It’s amazing what six months and a million credits can do, I think as I stare at the new training complex that the construction drones that Tova directed and Instructor Kenneck finished setting up this week. Today is the first day that a new class of trainees can use the facility and it is packed full of kids and a handful of trainers watching and taking notes. I feel this is an excellent use of the derelict baseball fields that used to be here. I have yet to see the indoor section of the facility, but the center is about as nice as I can make it without spending money on frivolity. It’s amazing how much money I saved on labor with the fleet of construction drones that Tova convinced me to buy.

“How you liking the place so far?” I ask Kenneck, the man nominally in charge of physical training for the Orphan Market recruits.

“I’d say it was fine, but then you went and put a barracks in the damn place, so I’d say it’s damn fine.” I haven’t seen the man smile in a while. Maybe his sphincter will relax and he can finally ease the stick out.

“I’m glad. It’s nice to finally have enough housing to go around that I can focus development on our future instead of our present.” Empress, I swear that it felt like this would never happen. Without Paolo and his Venezuela crew on Asphodel, it never would have.

After three months, Paolo asked if we could install another run seeing as the factory could conceivably hold three. Penny said the demand was there and so I bought another and Paolo and Dzartha installed it. The factory is averaging around 1.5 kilograms an hour, and with Penny’s drugstores and my selling the remainder to the prospects at between 400 and 600 credits a kilo, NovaChem’s cocaine department is projected to make over 4million Cr this year.

Kenneck yells some direction to his trainers to start pulling people that are routinely causing accidents on the obstacle course and turns to me with his full posture. “Speaking of the future, this whole Camp operation is getting a little too big for little meetings with everyone. Me and some others think it’s time to set up a government of sorts.”

“And you have all likely noticed that I’ve been avoiding doing just that.” He nods at me. I sigh. “Yeah, I know. Pull my shit together and get it done. Any advice you want to put in before I start this nightmare rolling?”

“Ditch the summer camp structure and put some adults in charge.”

“So, I should replace you then?” I smirk, knowing what he’s getting at, but I like calling him an asshole sideways instead of frontways.

He looks offended and chuffs.

“Don’t start nothin’, won’t be nothin’ Instructor Kenneck.”

“Fuck off Kimber.” He says, red-faced and embarrassed.

“Director. If you’re gonna be a dick, it’s fuck off Director.” I laugh loudly and walk away when I see his face resemble a puckered asshole. Is it wise to tease him when he takes offense instead of the playful ribbing it is intended to be? Probably not, but if he keeps being disrespectful about my age and my ability to lead, I’mma start taking offense as well—nobody wants that.

Alright Tova, what do you think? Should I lean into the Marine-esque ‘Camp’ instead of the summer camp thing? My vote is no because I have no Military training, and calling myself ‘general’ seems kinda dumb.

When has that ever stopped you?

Ass

It is obviously up to you. Classic examples include appointed staff or an elected set of representatives. The Continental Staff organization of an armed force such as the Navy would be a person heading a nominal department where N1 would be personnel, N2 would be Security and Intel, N3 would be Operations, N4 would be logistics, N5 Operations, and N6 Signal and IT; where legal and finance are separate operations entirely.

Okay, but I like that part. I like those departments! Save I’d want Intel to a part of communications N6. I could make the assistant director do finance and have a person for legal. Okay, that seems doable! I like ‘N’ for Nova also.

I believe I recommended against the ‘kinda dumb’ option. I merely included it because it was a part of your query.

Yes, however, it keeps me from having to think about it in awkward Warram terms like hospitality, drugs, recruitment, etc. I’m not thrilled it makes an 8-person council, but I can be the tie-break no problem. Plus, civilization basically advances by someone inventing something that everyone can steal to make their lives easier.

I hate it when your reductive logic makes sense.

BWAHAHAHAHA!

Internal triumph achieved! I ask Aria to skim what’s left of the Internet to see if there are any good examples of the staff tree I’m looking for. Then I dictate a nice little open call for applications to be a Senior Camp Counselor. With the people that are already assuming important roles because they had old Warram clout, I’m all about crashing into their fruit stand. Warram Officers were/are fucking parasites.

Yes, starting a government by pissing off your leaders is a solid plan.

Tova, is Aria not paying you enough attention? You’re being a little catty. But also helpful. I’m confused on how to feel about this. Bitch responds by hissing in my brain.

\Kimber, Marcus, What the hell is this ‘Open Call’? Are you replacing me?\

/Not specifically, no. I’m fucking with people that are making assumptions and are maneuvering behind my back./

\Ah, understandable. I just sent you a packet. I like the idea of taking on some intel operations, FYI.\

/I did not know that about you. Why do you have a resume already ready?/

\Possible transfer. Humboldt and Cascade seem like nice places.\

I chuckle at that. He wanted to be considered for leadership in other places should this one go south. /Tell you what, Marcus, if you help me set some precedence here, I’ll keep a job open for you if you want to transfer./

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

\That’s a fucking deal. Gimme that scroll.\

HAH! And I get one too! Bastard taking appropriate advantage of my Talent. I can’t help but smirk at how good of a work relationship I’ve developed with Marcus. He was barely above Jaime in my opinion of the people that were sponsored in my year, but now he’s just a level in every interaction I have with him—balanced and straight as an arrow. I’m glad he got over his VIP protection hitches, but I kinda hate that Belle basically fucked him into salience. Fuck, that’s some internal vitriol I didn’t need in my life right now.

One of my living nightmares right now is that the old Warram worms decided that involving Jaime and Belle in leadership would be a good way to manipulate me. It makes me want to set them all on fire. I’m not really being fair to Belle, but when she confessed that she couldn’t balance a relationship with me and her career, it felt as though she was calling me toxic. I mean, fuck, maybe I was, but I was only trying to survive. Her and Marcella made me want to take a crack at actually living, though, so it’s hard to hate the bitch.

I call my girlfriend, suddenly needing to hear her voice.

“Kimber?” I see a sleepy-eyed dragon looking up at me. “Baby, it’s like 4am here. Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry honey, I just . . . I’m going down a hate spiral because people are trying to put my ex-girlfriends in government positions and I needed a little grounding.” I can’t keep the wobble from my voice as I try to keep the moisture from dripping from my eyes.

Zia’s eyes focus, “Is this, teleport, transport, or no-port?”

“Heh, while I’d love to see you, it’s not important enough for you to miss the hunt to set people on fire.”

“Kimber, your enemies are my enemies. My dragon instincts make me want to collect their bones, encrust them in jewels and showcase how their only worth is what I gave them.”

Empress’ massacre, “Damn Zizi, I uh, that’s like comforting and a little alarming? I love you, but that’s not necessary.” How did I get so lucky to have such a fierce partner?

“Gah, now I want to kill something. It’s a good thing I’m on Elysium for a hunt. Oh, wait. Do you need me to comfort you in a Mindspace? I got a little carried away.” She collects her wings around her, showing that she’s a little embarrassed for her volatile response.

My cutie dragon is the bestest—I feel so much better already. “No Zia, seeing you and your willingness to go to war for me is more than enough.”

“Of course! Why would I not go to war for my . . . uh, ma . . . partner?” I snort as she looks for a word that doesn’t translate.

“Do we need to talk about us for a minute Zizi?”

“NO! Uh, I mean, I like us. I just . . . ugh, not until I can do this in person okay!?!”

Empress, that woman is trying so hard not to call me ‘mate’ it’s ridiculous. If Penny hadn’t warned me, I’d be super confused right now, but dragons and in my bae’s case draconids, well, they commit to one being, one mate, for the remainder of their existence. Naturally I take an enamored sense of amusement from her struggles to not tell me she wants to marry me, because in her mind we’re already life partners. She’s so fucking cute.

“Sure thing, cutie-pinkie-saur. Thanks for taking my call. I really needed to hear your voice.”

“Kimber! I’m with hunters!” she tucks in close to the virtual lens, “pinkie-saur wants to snuggle with Kimber-bear. Visit me soon, ‘kay?”

My emotions melt into a puddle of adoration, and apparently giggles. When she gets cutesie in her Draconid form it just tickles me silly. “Soon” I say and nod.

“Ack! The hunters are laughing at me! Love you bye!”

Guh, I love that woman.

***

“Haven’t tried to make these crafting potions in a while, but Tova and Zia tell me I need to branch out with confidence.” Easy to say when they’re not wasting a fortune in materials trying to craft a Mastercraft recipe as a empress-damned advanced alchemist.

I fail as often as I succeed but the system will pony up some skill ups because I invented a new way to make these ridiculous potions.

I’m fairly certain that if I turn that 3MAS into a 3MES or a 3MMS that the length of the buff will increase, but this is the only recipe I have that is above advanced. It’s a shame to waste a vial of S-grade ink on 100 doses when I should get 2-3 hundred, but this is the game isn’t it? That said, these fucking things sell for 1100cr a piece. At my current skill, it’s already a tenfold increase in value. If I get more hours and a higher yield, I could literally make billions. No wonder Penny laughed at me when I asked for a loan. Sassy boss lady.

Today I’m feeling frisky, so I put the potions up in batches of five and put them up for bid, 1100cr open for 12-hr auction. I start cleaning my private lab space and program my system-granted fabricator to make more corundum vials for me. Turns out, getting a tier gift as an Ordinal Being is a little rule-breaking and I take wild advantage of it for small shit. It will make anything to a quality that has been previously made. It printed me a kilo of Ethereal Agate once, and then it proceeded to super-suppose itself somewhere else while being tied to my lab. I still don’t know what that really means, but when I inspect the Agate or my lab, that’s what the system tells me. I though the substance was fictitious, so I guess this is what I get for wanting to make a fantasy ring for my girlfriend.

A pressure difference and a pop in my ears tells me I got the wrong kind of attention.

“Kimber. Did I not tell you to not auction priceless shit?!”

“Since when is this fucking priceless? I’ve been selling these vials for months!”

The curvy Pixie demi-goddess flutters over to me and smacks the back of my head. I suddenly want to call her Mommy for the wrong reasons. NO! One woman girl, one woman girl.

“Ow, what’s the big deal?”

“If you post them for a fixed price, you look like a fence or a pirate. Posting them on a bid, you look like the producer. They can see your company name. Well, cat’s out of the bag, and you’re about to be famous. Good luck with that.”

“Penny! Why didn’t you tell me these potions were that important?!”

She walks up to me with a sneer on her face and I freeze. Her aura is . . . oppressive.

“I almost cried when you gave me a crate. Sure I tried to play it off, but I wanted you to make me more. These vials, are not marketed for sale anywhere else. I have not seen them on the Exchange in my years, but have heard of fortunes being levied against a mere dozen of similar flasks.”

“Ugh, I guess I remember, but seriously, Penny, you need to convey importance when you rush off to do other shit.”

The Empress sighs and sits on one of the stools in my lab. “I wish you’d asked about this, but I can’t reset this.” She scrubs her face in frustration. “Sell me another crate and I can keep you supplied with a vial of ink a month to help you level. But don’t put them up for bid again and for fucks sake, do it under a pseudonym.”

“I can just make a fake company and the Exchange will accept it?”

“Andromeda save me, Kimber, you put a different name under ‘Poster’s name’ and or the contact info. You just auto populated the last stuff. I, I wish I had talked to you sooner, but shit happens and you’re out there now.”

“Meh, your crate takes my last two vials to make. I can just say that I’m out of stock until I find a new supply.”

The Royal Pixie starts laughs at me again. “I’m not sure whether you’re a boon or a curse little Nova, but if Confucius saw this, it was living in interesting times.”

I was worried for a minute then I just can’t take the juxtaposition and laughter consumes me. “Like you ever live in boring times.” She squinches her face and I know I got her.

“You’re lucky Zia likes you.”

“Also lucky you like me.”

The most powerful person in the Empire considers my statement a moment and nods. “True. Ask Zia to come with you on your next visit to Astoria, would you?” and the shit teleports out. I’m not dumb enough to ignore her request, but she can wait until the next time I talk to my cutie pink dragon girl.