Chapter 331: What’s next?

Chapter 331: What’s next?

Mason met with all his players, and some of the elves and civilian leaders in the central ‘hall’ of his new raised city. Everyone was buzzing, full of barbecue and a little alcohol, talking excitedly and staring out at the platforms and buildings.

After they got over the initial what-the-fuckery of its instant construction, and then the size and absolute insanity of it all, they were all pretty damn excited.

Naya and Haley both came to Mason’s side of the table, exchanging a polite smile before Haley gestured for Naya to sit beside him first. She did, and Haley sat on the other, both of them looking just a little too generous and pleased with each other. Mason did his best not to roll his eyes.

“Are we going to move everyone in, er, up?” Sylvie asked. “Oh God. We’d just started to agree on housing. This is going to be a nightmare.”

The former mayor of Sanctuary put a hand to her face and sighed, and Mason reminded himself people could always be trusted to find the bad in every situation. He didn’t blame her, really, she was probably right. There would be a lot of fighting.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Mason said. “But that’s why you’re here. I don’t care where people go. And since we had more houses than we needed before, at this point it’s mostly going to be a ghost town until we get more people. So I guess the main message from me is: I don’t want to hear any housing complaints. I really don’t. I have a designated estate. The beacons are off limits until there’s rules. And I’m taking this hall for settlement business. Other than that, go wild. You guys are in charge, figure it out.”

“So that means it’s all open?” Sylvie asked. “All the residential, I mean? And what about the crafting and...” Carl cringed slightly and was looking at Sylvie and shaking his head. Mason narrowed his eyes.

“Figure it out means figure it out,” he said. “Hold a lottery. Vote. Bare knuckle boxing contest. I don’t care. The first person who goes around you and complains to me lives for a week with the wolves. You can go ahead and tell people that.”

When no one else said anything Mason sat back and glanced at his many, many patron points.

“I’ll be sorting out more buildings soon. I want a list of requests and...I don’t know, ideas. I’ll give Haley a list of my options, all the information I have. Take a look, show it to your people, see what you think. Honestly I think we’re pretty well defended. So probably we want...crafting options? I have no idea.”

Again people mostly just nodded in silence, but they looked pleased to be included. The elven oracle cleared her throat, looking rather meek and tiny and old next to a human on other side.

“Might I speak, my lord?”

Mason winced, no idea if he should try and correct her and just say ‘call me Mason’, or what. Truth was, he was technically her lord. And these people weren’t humans whom Mason felt some kind of innate ‘equality’ to. Their culture was just...different. So he nodded and let it go.

“This place is...astounding. And my understanding of what’s happening is limited,” Dariya said, though Mason was beginning to expect that was anything but true. “However,...it seems you are trying to learn more of this world? And...find your lost kin?”

Mason nodded, and Dariya bowed her head again.

“Then might I suggest an Oracle Stone? This...Nexus, is truly unbelievable. A wonder of the world not seen in...” she shrugged, eyes a little watery as she glanced at Naya and the pair exchanged a smile. “We were already pleased to be here with you, lord. But now...it seems, the gods have truly blessed this place. The light of Luna and the grace of...”

Carl crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, a self-aware but petulant look at the Vietnamese swordsman.

“I’m not that bloody old. I wasn’t the one who invaded you, was I?” He glanced around, presumably at the other Americans, then sighed. “I’m still not helping them.”

Mason stood.

“I’ll leave Haley and the civilians to start sorting out...everything. I don’t expect to be at the tower long. When I come back, we’ll use those patron points, and hopefully by then those communication beacons are working.”

“And if they try and talk to us before you’re back?” Carl asked, still a little tone in his voice. Mason shrugged.

“Feel free. If they ask for me, tell them I’m busy.”

“Oh he’s off making friends with murderous green monsters,” Carl muttered. “No that’s not a joke, Mr. President, or whoever the hell. Oh no it’s fine, I can take a message.”

Mason slapped his shoulder and grinned. “That was great.” He nodded towards Phuong. “Get the other players. We’ll take volunteers. I can go alone and teleport them over, we won’t need more than a few.”

Phuong nodded and pulled back his chair, and all the newness and excitement had everyone up and chatting and grinning (except Carl). Mason patted his arm on the way by, understanding the man’s anger completely. He wasn’t sure he felt any different, if he was completely honest.

A piece of him was seriously considering slaughtering his way to his brother, picking him up by the scruff of his neck, and dragging him back to Nassau.

But he knew Blake wouldn’t accept that. It also probably made no sense to go stirring up trouble that may have been stopped already. Mason didn’t think he had much to fear from these orcs or goblins anymore.

He and his players were more powerful than ever. And now they had a raised city full of some kind of tree-elemental guards (in a month, apparently), and who knew what else once they spent their points and started ‘tiering’ up.

No. Blake was right about one thing: whatever the next threat to mankind, it wasn’t orcs and goblins. Maybe it was the undead. Maybe it was the demons. Maybe it was something else entirely they had no idea about.

But as Mason climbed back down to the ground in leaping jumps and drops, he couldn’t help but think of roboGod’s message when he’d finished the challenge. Some kind of new phase, with a period of ‘non-violence’ between players.

It gave the impression their overlord knew something they didn’t. Something about the nature of man, maybe, and about what was going to happen when everyone came together from different ‘tribes’.

Mason wasn’t naive. He knew the first chief of Nassau wouldn’t be the only bloody-fisted tyrant. He kept a tiny hope that maybe in this insane new world the humans who won out would be the ones who saw the value in collaboration to face a dangerous game. Good chiefs or kings who cared about the people they protected.

But in his heart he knew: maybe the next threat to man, was man.