Ernest Edgelord is offering YOU, Elonia Silver, Sovereign rights to New Arcadia!
New Arcadia is home to:
5 million elves & 1.66 Million mixed race citizens!
10,669 square miles of extremely fertile land with high levels of both mana & spiritual energy!
New Arcadia City! Home to 300 Master Craftsmen.
New Arcadia additionally possess:
300 Master farmers/herders/cheese makers/vintners and other agrarian specialists!
100 Royal Guardians (Level 99 Paladins! All said guardians are eligible to quest for Bronze Ascension! Probability of survival and success depends on whether or not your brother can successfully reclaim Ashland Province!)
100 Bronze-tier Magisters & 1 Silver Archmage who, together, oversee Mistridge, a LEGENDARY tier arcane academy that can teach up to 2000 students per semester both arcane Classes and Professions of Advanced tier or better to anyone with even a single clear node and any Arcane Affinity at all!
The fates have blessed New Arcadia with Gentle Fortune! (The average citizen can expect to enjoy a peaceful life. Adventurers and those who otherwise influence the world around them will, of course, suffer the bitter and sweet fruits of their actions!)
A minimum monthly surplus of 20,000+ gold crowns can be expected with this territory with zero class perks or skill rank modifiers in effect.
Note! Profits may be increased substantially with the appropriate mercantile, administrative, and leadership skills and perks (or the election of administrators and advisors possessing said skills and perks) as well as with trade treaties! (Your nearest friendly neighbor will be Freetown, in desperate need of a steady food supply, which New Arcadia has in extreme abundance).
The cost of claiming this territory (and the payment Ernest Edgelord expects in return) is: Nothing.
Do you ACCEPT Sovereign rights to this territory? Yes/No?
“Elonia, are you okay?”
Elonia was in shock. Her heart was pounding. Her skin tingling. She felt strangely dizzy, like about to topple over. Brittany and Lord Caliban were both looking at her with growing concern.
She didn’t dare to move, terrified of saying anything, even THINKING the wrong thought!
After so many months? Years? Of bitter hardship and struggle... remembering such agony and despair over seeing her territories overrun, her people slaughtered. Struggling to stand strong, to lead, to fight, while enduring the ravages of both her addiction and the constant pain that had been gifted to her that had caused her to relapse so badly, courtesy of a malevolent pod. She recalled so viscerally the nightmare of shame and humiliation she had experienced, the guilt and doubt that still festered deep inside, no matter how supportive and understanding her closest friends had been… only to find that horrific nightmare had been nothing more than a dream.
Yet somehow, she knew that wasn’t so. KNEW she hadn’t always been a girl struggling to maintain a tiny tract of land with a handful of friends struggling against enemies eager for her wards to fall before slaughtering everyone within.
She had once been so much less, and so much more than she was now. But one commonality in the weird dual facets of her existence was that life had always been a struggle. She had always felt under terrible stress, and pressure, her beauty and clever intellect used as an excuse to deny her any aid at all and demand ever more. Her gifts never allowed to be a source of comfort and solace.
It was a struggle to keep from laughing. A struggle to keep from sobbing! With joy, with hope, with mind-numbing terror at the thought that this priceless prize dangling in front of her, calling out to her very soul, could somehow be taken away.
It would have been so easy to just ignore the message, to stay numb and accept her fate, to surrender the bitter game that had drained her dry and subtly accept Caliban’s offer of sanctuary. To just move up to her brother’s suit in Blue Palace with Brittany by her side and just fill the ache inside her with parties and drinks and Brittany and boys and try to forget. Try to forget it all.
Yet here before her now…
She swallowed, blinking back hot, joyful tears.
A city. No, an entire territory the size of Belgium or Armenia! And all of it, every last square mile of it, rich with magic and wonder and enchantment and grand forests and rich fecund fields absolutely bursting with crops and livestock and vinyards and dairy farms and a magnificent beautiful city out of the most glorious fairy tale imaginable. And all of it could be hers.
A beautiful fantasy kingdom in possession of an actual Legendary arcane academy.
It could be hers to cherish and protect and nurture.
All she had to do was dispel the awful demons of doubt and shame and the memory of Stony’s cold threats and the jackal-like gnoll’s mocking laughter and darker thoughts still.
“Elonia? Are you okay?”
She felt Brittany’s hand gently touch her cheek with more concern and tenderness than they dared show publicly.
She glared down at her own clenched fists.
Blinking the tears out of her eyes.
Yes.
She was worthy of this.
Yes.
She could do this!
She knew she had it in her to be a good queen. One who cherished and cared for her people. All she had ever needed was a chance. A single opportunity without a dozen spiteful foes doing their utmost to sabotage her at every turn!
And now she finally had the opportunity to finally walk the walk, not just dream a sad girl’s dream.
So why was her heart racing? Why was her breathing coming in such ragged gasps? Why was she on the verge of tears?
Oh yes. That’s right.
She was afraid.
She had already lost a kingdom once before, in nightmares so visceral and real that they had to be more than a dream. According to the Contender claiming to be her brother, the one offering her an impossible, incalculable prize even now… they were more than a dream.
So the only question she had to ask herself was… was she brave enough to try again?
“Elonia?”
She said nothing, too choked up to speak, merely reaching for the silvered hand mirror her friend had handed her, forcing her to look at the face of the girl who would dare to be a queen once more.
You have chosen: YES!
Congratulations! You are now the QUEEN of New Arcadia!
Your Class has Ascended!
All personal attributes have gone up by 10 points! For a queen must be both strong and wise, perceptive and beautiful, to care for the needs of her people, and assure their love in turn!
CONGRATULATIONS! ELONIA SILVER IS THE FIRST CONTENDER TO RULE A CONQUERED BLACK-TIER TERRITORY ON TERRA! THIS TERRITORY IS BOTH SELF-SUFFICIENT AND POSSESSES A POPULATION IN EXCESS OF SIX MILLION! A KINGDOM HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY ESTABLISHED! - THIS IS A CONJOINED BRONZE TIER FEAT! - TERRA ITSELF RECOGNIZES THIS ACCOMPLISHMENT!
YOU HAVE EARNED A 5% BONUS TO ALL BASELINE CHARACTERISTICS!
YOU WILL ADDITIONALLY RECEIVE A PERMANENT 5% MULTIPLIER TO ALL FUTURE STAT GAINS ON OR OFF OF TERRA!
YOU HAVE EARNED THE TITLE: DESTINED RULER!
IT IS NOW YOUR MANIFEST DESTINY TO RULE A KINGDOM WHERE THE SUN NEVER SETS! YOUR PEOPLE ENJOY A PERMANENT +50% BONUS TO MORALE AND A PERMANENT +25% BONUS TO PRODUCTIVITY! YOUR CITIZENS WILL DEFEND YOUR TERRITORY WITH FATE’S LUCK AIDING THEIR BLOWS!
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
* ANOMALY DETECTED *
BRONZE TIER FEAT EARNED AS WHITE-TIER CONTENDER.
ALL BOONS HAVE BEEN DOUBLED!
The words rang through her soul so loud she couldn’t hear a word her friend was saying. Yet the look of awed wonder upon Brittany’s beautiful face made it clear that voice, that System voice, had rang so loud that the entire world could hear. Or at least, those that mattered. As she herself should know. How many Bronze titles had her brother earned, broadcast before the world?
She then paled as wonder turned to sudden dread, even as exhaustion, dizziness, and an odd bubbly effervescence she had never felt before threatened to overwhelm her. Tipsy on effervescent joy and stomach-churning dread. Overwhelmed as a body that had, for whatever reason, accepted no physical enhancements save what sweating in the fencing studio and weight room every day had given her, was suddenly blessed and burdened with a massive boon in all of her physical characteristics. All her mental traits as well. She had gone from a healthy Mortal’s physique to that of Olympian. Past Olympian. In just a handful of seconds. Her body was utterly overwhelmed.
And that’s when it suddenly hit her enhanced mind, abruptly finding herself able to process and parse thoughts with an ease and grace that made her normal day-to-day brooding seemed like the dull meanderings of an exhausted drunkard. Only now, she felt invigorated as if she had had two refreshing cups of coffee after a brisk hike and was ready to face the first day of the rest of her life like never before.
Which she was suddenly terrified might simultaneously be the last day of her life.
Because her title, her Bronze-tier title, had just been announced to the whole world.
And she had yet to even arrive in the bosom of her supposed kingdom with nearly seven million devoted subjects. Instead, she was in a city filled with hungry mercenaries that any number of goblins, goblins she had been subtly informed were worth almost 1.4 billion credits, and furious that they weren’t worth far more, could put into play against her.
Because who cared if Freetown was effectively a Blue-Corp safe zone? If the Goblins were offering you a hundred million or more, that kind of contract was worth a bit of rule-bending. Far better to be rich and fabulous in corrupt New York than bitter and struggling in Freetown where most of the Professionals here had a better quality of life than most Combat Classers. At least until better dungeons were found.
“Elonia! What what the hell just happened?”
“I think maybe I just became a queen?”
Brittany’s laughter was brittle. “Oh hell yeah, I think you did! And you saw Stony. The fucking malice in his eyes. And those Shaman were Bronze… and you know the cards goblins hold up their asses.” She squeezed Elonia’s hand. Careful, as she always was, being so much stronger than Elonia. She understood that now. Yet a mortal’s 13 had just turned to 23… no, 25.3, with her Bronze tier title boosting all her baseline attributes another 10%. Or at least, that was what her character sheet was showing. Even if it hadn’t fully integrated yet, so massive was her transformation.
Right now she just felt dizzy and sick and exhausted and absolutely incredible and she was sure her body was just now getting ready to incorporate the changes, slowly adjusting as her thoughts slowed with wonder and molasses.
“Fuck. The goblins are going to try to snipe my ass again.”
Brittany nodded animatedly, before furrowing her brow. “What do you mean, again? Wait, never mind. Come on, let’s just go up to those high-end roller suites you were bragging that your brother left for you, and we’ll plan out our next—”
Before she could even finish the statement, Caliban, looking ever the debonair businessman, prince, and tycoon all rolled into one was suddenly in her space, radiating such concern and handsomeness and why the hell did the hottest elf that looked so much like a young Spock have to be spoken for already?
She shook her head in rue when she saw his gentle frown.
Pheromones. Fuck. She forgot! Her race’s weakness… but wasn’t she human?
Caliban’s features instantly shifted back to grave concern. That’s when she noticed the full contingent of Blue Corp elves by Caliban’s side. All of them wearing power armor, with force shields and extremely deadly looking blasters and plasma rifles in their hands.
Elonia gasped, heart pounding with dread that was instantly alleviated by Caliban’s soothing words, graceful enough to ignore the momentary fear she had had of him taking full advantage of her while technically in his power. Instead, his words were exactly what she had wanted to hear. Had been so desperate to hear.
“I pray you will allow me to escort you, personally, to your capital city, Your Grace, as a professional courtesy from one sovereign to another. And of course, I am well within my rights to maintain a full security detail about my person at all times while visiting foreign states and dignitaries.”
Elonia’s eyes widened with a surprise that cut through her racing, hyper-clear, and utterly exhausted thoughts. “But, Your Grace, isn’t it extremely unusual for Blue Corp Representatives to leave their territory for any reason?”
She gave a vague wave encompassing both the grand Blue Palace Hotel and Conference center chamber and the magnificent view of the futuristic city beyond. “The sheer wealth of your territory, the defensive measures, highly stationary defensive measures that you’re not permitted to ever move once placed, even if they will serve you well into the ascension and beyond… do you no good if you leave your territory. You’ll be vulnerable out there. Just as vulnerable as me.” She bit her lip. “Caliban, if anything were to happen to you, the one friendly Neutral ruler keeping so many hyper-powered mercenary companies full of Bronze-tier monsters in check, playing softball when they could so easily play hardball and grind all of us to dust… if you’re gone, we’re all completely fucked. You do know that, right?”
“Not to mention every single humanoid faction eager to humiliate and torment us after cutting off all our fingers,” Brittany noted with a wan smile. “After Stony’s latest threats, after letting it slip that the entire assassination attempt of our hero, pulling out a fucking Bronze Ringer with a Silver-tier daddy-dearest suppression ring out of NOWHERE, then using that to tell us ‘door’s wide open, prepare to die while I call in all my friends, fuckers…’ was totally and absolutely his ploy? That the entire fucking humanoid council, even the fucking goblins, were dancing to his strings? Yeah, that Stony who is far too fucking clever and the farthest thing from the brutal idiot it’s so easy to take him for...”
She shuddered, gazing at Caliban and Elonia with haunted eyes while wrapping her arms about herself, looking the farthest thing from an eighteen-year-old Queen with a witch’s bloodline coursing through her veins. “We really, really need you to stick around, Caliban, or we’re truly done for.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing that Blue Corp policy allows for exceptionally large personal retinues when a Blue Sovereign leaves his territory for any reason, isn’t it?” The debonair elf then solemnly handed them both a futuristic-looking polychrome belt with an oversized buckle.
Elonia’s eyes widened with a gasp. “Caliban! This is priceless!”
“Please! I would consider it a great honor if you would consent to trying out a prototype item we will eventually be bringing to market. I’ll even pay you standard test-rates, if you’ll forgive such a crass proposition to esteemed personages such as yourself.”
He flashed a tight smile.
Brittany whistled in admiration. “Fuckin’ A! It’s a Type-A Sentinel Ward belt! This fucker deflects all attacks that don’t hit dead on, and even if you’re perk-spiked by a marksman, it can still absorb two thousand points worth of electromana or kinetic damage from direct hits before going down! And it only costs five mana per hour to passively maintain? This is fucking epic!”
Caliban chuckled. “Sadly, it shorts out rather quickly in wild-magic infused territories that have yet to know a Contender’s grace, and in dimensional rifts, or dungeons, it will remain entirely inert. But in assuring day to day safety in tame, stabilized regions, or when hunting wild game in such regions for sport? It certainly holds its own. Wherever a power-armored mercenary can use his gear without undue corrosion, you can use our Sentinel Wards equally well, though the force-belts will short out far quicker in untamed regions where power armor would at least endure for hours or days. Regardless, I do hope to have your ringing endorsement when we finally get permission to bring such in line. Now I’m given to understand that you’re both competent fencers?”
Brittany flushed at that. “I hit Apprentice tier with saber and thought that was such a big deal, not that long ago. But having met multiple Journeyman-tier weapon experts who have ranks all the way into the teens… seeing the way Stony was sneering while he held that war club of absolute brain-smashing death and just KNOWING that he had some sort of ugly weapon perk to make the blows especially gruesome… no. I wouldn’t consider myself any sort of fencer—” Her words cut off when Caliban solemnly handed her a glossy black force-saber hilt with a guard made of fancy, glittering jewels.
Elonia felt her eyes bulging equally wide. “No fucking way…”
Caliban chuckled at the squeal of delight Brittany gave when the press of a button caused a two-foot long, two inch wide rod of crackling force to reveal itself.
Though Caliban and Elonia did back up just a bit when she lashed out with a delighted shout, Caliban’s no nonsense sentinels giving Massachusetts’ young ruler a disapproving frown when her force-sword cleaved through the thick oak backrest of her chair as effortlessly as cutting through air.
An instant later, Brittany had cut off the flow, her breath coming in short, ragged breaths. “It only cost me three mana per swing! I thought it would be so much more!”
Caliban nodded indulgently. “The mana cost adds up rather quickly, unless you have a significant pool and an elf’s gift at mana regeneration, or access to very special perks or node enhancements. But yes. It will slice through any chair rather effortlessly. Don’t expect the same success against, say, a Bronze-tier mercenary’s power armor. But against a gnoll or ogre wearing common or low-grade enchanted steel? It should prove more than adequate.”
Brittany’s euphoric gaze became one of horrified dismay. “Oh fuck, I ruined your chair!”
“Completely my fault for not thinking to bring adequate testing material.” Their host then gave Elonia a bemused smile. “If you too feel the need to test your force blade, you’re more than welcome to use it on whatever furniture you like.”
An awed Elonia solemnly shook her head. “No need. It handles beautifully, and the shorter length makes it so comfortable to manipulate if one has any experience at all with decent-sized straight sabers.”
Caliban nodded. “Hard edicts absolutely forbid bringing any force-sword to market within any ascending world with a disintiblade beyond 24 inches in length, exclusive of the handle, of course. Yet this isn’t all bad, as the cost to use increases significantly with every additional six inches of length. Regrettably, it too suffers the same disadvantages as the force-barrier in terms of shorting out within minutes of exposure to wild mana regions, in addition to being completely inert in Rifts. On the plus side, should raiders or ambushers trouble you, so long as no elite mage is casting specialized disjoining magics at your high-magitec gear, any White-tier aggressor will be in for an extremely rude awakening.”
“In death!” Brittany smirked.
“Pretty much, yes. Now, if you’ve finished testing the equipment, I pray you’ll put it away and have the discipline not to use it in tight quarters. But should you find yourselves unexpectedly enjoying a woodland hike without my protective detail around, then you might find it quite complimentary to the significant armamentarium of tactics, spells, and counters you no doubt already have against unwanted aggression.”
“In other words, if psychotic assholes actually try to fuck with us on the way to Elonia’s brand new kingdom, we should let your elite badasses handle it. But if we get separated from your honor guard, at least we have a chance,” Brittany softly said.
Caliban smiled. “Of course certain precautions are forbidden to Blue for a host of reasons. Fortunately, I am well within my rights to offer unique opportunities to test products that we intend to put up for common use. Even if the product line will be delayed for another… ahem… century or so.”
Elonia and Brittany shared an awed glance.
Clearly this was some high end, late-ascension shit that no one should be getting to play with, this early in Earth’s own blossoming. But for Elonia’s sake, Caliban was cutting some technical rules with a fine razor to make sure she got to her new home safely.
Elonia’s gleeful grin turned to an anxious grimace. “That bad, huh?”
Caliban’s reassuring chuckle fooled no one. “Certainly no party has given me any cause to doubt their sincerity and trustworthiness in matters of contractual obligation. Neither in matters of state nor mercenary decorum.” His smile hardened with chilling intensity. “And I intend to keep it that way. Now, if Your Graces would care to accompany me, our ACV is waiting.”