CHAPTER 134

Michael leant back into his cushion. Sweat ran down his face. “As the only one of us not to have offended Mus, Tom maybe you should run this conversation.”

Tom glared at the otter. “Are you over your tantrum?”

For a moment, the otter stilled its body and stared at right at Tom. The pressure built immediately, and he wondered if he had miscalculated the situation. So much of his actions was driven by the knowledge in his dream and the trust that beneath the terrifying fluffy exterior that could poke him full of holes with a single movement was a good person.

Mus stared at him. Then its whiskers twitched. The pressure reduced.

“Sorry,” Mus said not looking at all contrite but to the relief of all of them the suppression vanished. “I don’t enjoy being accused of being a slaver twice in such quick succession. But I’ll restrain my instincts and ensure your fragile bodies are not subjected to them.”

Tom’s mind ran furious as he tried to determine how to approach the negotiations. The greatest thing they could give this person was access to people willing to direct their future class and skills in a direction that they could use to discover lost skills and spells for Mus’s species. It might not want to talk about slavery, but the lure of getting someone into your community that could teach beneficial skills to aid their society would remove most of those objections.

“Human’s don’t accept slavery either.” Tom temporised, aiming for neutral ground.

The fur on the back of Mus dropped further. “Sometimes it’s necessary,” Mus responded with a shrewd look.

The words were almost a physical kick to the guts. Mus was as good as declaring that if he was not happy with what would end up being a farce of a negotiation, then he would take what he wanted, anyway. Tom clung desperately to the memory of his prophetic dream and how Mus actually viewed the world.

That skill…

It was worth more that Tom had realised. Everything the otter was saying was only theatre. Despite his words, despite the clever implications Mus would not enslave them.

He is a sapient. Treat him like you would any other human. Tom told himself. That comment about sometimes it being necessary. He wouldn’t have put up with one of his mates supporting slavery in that manner and nor should he hold back now.

“It’s never justifiable. We fought world wars to prove that.” Tom snapped in anger. It was not historically accurate, but the otter wouldn’t know better.

“Taking the high moral ground is a price a species can only pay when they are masters of their domain. You’re a competition race. That means you were the alpha species in your world. You owned it so you could afford to structure a world of ethical considerations. Existentia is different. We can’t afford to be bound by ethical boundaries.”

“Mus.” Tom quietly. “Let’s not bullshit each other. You’re no slaver.”

The otter hesitated. “You’re new to the world. The flag of trade is more than a symbol. I cannot lie. You can make your assumptions and you’re right in a way but completely wrong in another. My species comes before humans.”

Tom smiled at that wording. It was a masterful example of equivocation, but it revealed the truth. Mus was unlikely to enslave someone, but… Tom blinked slowly with dread filling his stomach. It was not that simple. It did not need to be a case of slavery. There were other; abduct a target and place them in a high level area and then charge them for protection, claim a crime, and imprison them because of it. Who knows, the otter’s might even have a culture where all survivors from a defeated force were automatically deemed to be slaves of the victors for twenty years.

Tom lacked the information to make a sensible determination. There were so many loopholes with the statements already made that there were thousands of ways to get a result of slavery without ever calling it that.

It did not gel with what he knew from sharing the otter’s thoughts, but Tom believed Mus when he said his species came first.

A bead of nervous sweat ran down his face and his armpits were wet. “Why don’t you tell us what you want?”

“To trade.” The otter’s whiskers twitched.

“But what are you after? One…” Tom paused.

The otter’s body language did not change.

“Two… three… four.”

Tom stopped talking as it blinked.

He breathed heavily. Even though Mus had dropped all of his effects, the pressure of the situation was immense. He was not negotiating for a small discount on a TV; the stakes were significantly higher. “You want four of us to go back with you and give up their upgrade paths to support your race’s training.”

The otter slowed blinked at him once more and Tom knew from its body language that he had nailed exactly what it wanted.

“We won’t do that.” Michael said firmly. “We’re not for sale.”

“Not so hasty,” Joline interrupted.

The two key political figures amongst the humans glared at each other.

“Now is not the time to die on a moral ant hill.” Joline snapped.

“We’re not selling people to slavery.”

“The common good triumphs the individual.”

“What sort of CEO are you?”

“A practical one.” Joline finished frostily. “I’ve never hidden from making the tough decisions. As for you, I imagine in your privileged, sheltered life you’ve never had to make one.”

“I was a doctor.”

“In a western country.” Joline shot back. “You just followed processes.”

“Hu-mans are definitely not a hive mind species.”

“No, we’re not.” Tom said tiredly. The other two had stopped openly arguing, but neither had conceded their points.

“And hu-man Tom, what’s your view?”

He started at the otter’s question.

“Because these two seemed to be deadlocked. Does your race work on majority vote or are you the boss?”

“Neither.”

“Then which side are you on.” Mus asked.

Tom glanced between the two of them. On one side was his good friend and great person and on the other was a self-interested harpy. Unfortunately, there was only one answer even if it strained friendships. He made eye contact with the otter. “I’m a pragmatist.”

“Tom!” Michael gasped.

“But I’ll never support slavery.”

“Yet you’re negotiating.” Mus observed closely.

“Do I have a choice?”

It rubbed its whiskers aggressively. “You always have a choice.”

“You are much more powerful than any of us, so all I have is words. You could kill everyone here and capture me. I would not even be able to kill myself. Given that situation, of course I’m going to negotiate.”

“Slavery is not that simple. There are rules. The GODs don’t like the complete oblivion of free will.” Mus said carefully. “But that’s only total subjection and if you do that, their usual response is to remove access of that body to the system. Basically, what you’re left with is no better than golem or zombie. No one really bothers as a result. But if it’s not complete subjugation the situation changes. The slave can still buy stuff from the system shop, but you risk the victim praying for divine deliverance. It’s a balancing problem and bit of a gamble.”

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“Divine deliverance?” Joline asked.

Mus whiskers twitched, but by dint of surprising willpower at least for it, Mus avoided cleaning them. “Once more you demonstrate how new you are to Existentia. Divine deliverance is as terrifying as it sounds.”

“It doesn’t sound–”

The hairs on Mus’s back rose in response to his annoyance at her combative tone. That and the fact that she was contradicting him again. Mus did not like the woman and was not afraid to show it. Joline stopped speaking mid-sentence her face going pale once more.

Tom could feel the backlash from where he sat and thumped his chest over his heart to make sure that it still functioned properly. “Is that necessary?”

The otter’s hair lowered. “Sorry. I promised not to do it again. As I was saying, you are new here and you speak so thoughtlessly about the GODs and their rules. I have studied only a bit of history, but I believe it is a common trait of the competition races.”

“I’m sorry.” Joline whispered again, though her eyes contained a barely suppressed fury. She had gone through the tutorial. Of course, she had an instinct that was closer to fight than flight. It took a lot to cower any of them. They were all hardened metal with anything fighting related. They could all endure far more than should have been possible. That was not a factor of humanity it was purely survival bonus. The soft ones had been torn apart and the brittle crystal versions had long since shattered.

Mus ignored her, either not spotting the simmering fury or more likely not caring. “In simple terms, Divine Deliverance is a last gasp measure that rarely ends well for the person triggering it.”

“Suicide.”

“Yes.” Mus answered. “Usually it creates oblivion. Sometimes you are saved and other times your enemies are smited but generally it is oblivion.”

“So if I ever get captured by the enemy.”

“I wouldn’t rely on Divine Deliverance because that is not what it is intended for.”

“What is it intended for?”

Mus nodded at that question. “There are many theories. The one I like is that it is an escape valve if you are denied control over all aspects of your life put there for those who value freedom over their existence. Another is that it is a reward for the faithful. The outcome of divine deliverance is decided between your god and theirs. The ones that have no faith are then smited.”

“Biblical.”

“What an interesting term.” Mus responded. “Derived from a book that contains an imprecise set of instructions from a lowercase god.”

“Not what it means.” Tom interrupted. “It’s referring to a scale of destruction beyond what we could do to ourselves.”

“Yes, it can very much get that way. If you get divine deliverance called against you and you have disappointed your own GOD, then it will not end well.”

“Thank you for your guidance.” Tom said formally.

The otter immediately started clutching at its whiskers and then toppled over in its water bath its tail paddling and sending water flying. Twenty seconds later it came up with its paws still massaging its whiskers. “I’m not a sensei.”

“Sorry master.” Tom said, lowering his head respectfully.

Tom felt the rising the threat and when he looked up, the hair on the back of the otter had risen. The atmosphere was oppressive, but he made a point of playing with his two week-old beard. The hairs rose further.

Tom forced his hands to keep moving.

Mus’s eyes narrowed and then the hair went down. Tom almost sagged at the release of pressure and then its paws went to its whiskers and then it collapsed back into its ankle deep wading pool thrashing about.

Tom smiled to himself.

This creature was more powerful than anything he had ever faced. Definitely on a relative basis, given he was weak now, but probably in totality as well. He doubted it had a fate build, but despite that it had three times as much Fate as Tom. That put its class levels in the multiple hundreds. Anything Tom could do to build rapport was a bonus and that entire scene had been it playing.

Mus reappeared. “I think I like you Hu-mans.”

Tom made the whisker gesture, and the otter mimicked him, but probably because it was genuinely laughing again as opposed to because it was duplicating Tom’s motion.

“We’re not trading people.” Michael said determinedly into the silence.

“We all understand your viewpoint.” Joline said acridly.

“I’m with Michael on that.” Tom said immediately. “However, if we come up with suitable compensation, we can probably convince volunteers to help you.”

“Yes.” A spray of water went flying as Mus smacked the water with its tail. Mus’s Skill that projected the otter’s emotions allowed Tom to interpret that as the equivalent of a clap.

“It’ll be a hard sell.” Joline interrupted. “No human will agree to that sort of deal unless the rest of us are compensated sufficiently. If I successfully convince someone to join you, what will you pay?”

“Yes, yes.” Mus’s eyes widened happily. “Now we start trade negotiations. To be clear, your offer is to source volunteers that will let me direct the expenditure of all their experience and the allocation of fifty percent of their attribute points. In turn, when they are experienced enough they agree to teach my people the GOD learnt skills that I have directed them to buy.”

Joline nodded suddenly all focused and professional. “Correct.”

“First, I’m after at least two volunteers, but will pay the same price for up to four.”

“What do you want them for? What are the risks?”

“Tom!” Joline snapped at him. “Time and place and we agreed I’m in charge here.”

“You are.” Tom said quietly. “But I’m not letting people agree to a deal potentially as restrictive as this without more information.”

“It’s a sensible question.” Mus acknowledged. “There is nothing nefarious in my purpose. My race’s need is an aspect of how the system functions. We’ve all been seeded here as a competitor race. The first generation born in Existentia has full access to the experience shop. The level of access gets reduced for each generation until you reach the tenth and are considered a native. The specifics lost each time varies, but a native earns fifty percent less experience per kill versus someone in the competition and can only direct that experience to class purchases and levels.”

“You can only use it to buy classes?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but it is worse than that. The prerequisites are tightened up and only the ones you’ve earned are visible. If there’s a legendary class with a hundred requirements and the only one you haven’t done is dance naked under the moon, you won’t even know you’re close to making it available.”

“What do you mean the prerequisites are tightened?”

“It is complicated and much of the detail is lost in time. But for natives, the requirements for a class are analogous to what is required to get an earned Skill or Spell.”

“Oh,” Tom said in surprise. Given the fact he had earned a skill, he understood how restrictive that was, especially if you couldn’t see how close you were getting.

Both Joline and Michael shot him confused looks and the fact he had not blinked at the mention of an earned Skill or Spell and they had picked up that it meant that he had already received one.

“Of course, with classes we can at least discuss the required achievements in general terms and that lets you pass them on. You can build books with the information on higher-level class skills and what they require. That process works and as a society you are stable. Then there is conflict, maybe a competition race or the knock-on effects of war from ten kingdoms away or possibly upstart of a neighbour. Something causes the drums of war to beat. As a species you are never in danger but you lose your high levelled warriors and a couple of libraries and you scramble and recreate everything from interviews, but one or two skills disappear. Rinse and repeat and eventually your classes are a shadow of what they once were and there is no roadmap on how to reach the expert and legendary evolutions.”

“Sounds depressing. And how would the help of a human change that?”

“Because the prerequisites are voided if it is taught by someone with sufficient mastery.”

That was pretty much what he had pieced together in his head, but it was good to get it confirmed. “I understand.”

“You don’t, really. Over hundreds of generations, the ability to teach key spells and skills is truly lost. Every race suffers the same decline and you’ll be hard-pressed to find an empire still with access to the classes that made them a powerhouse even ten generations after they became natives.”

“But you can find skills and spells in trials and some of them even tailor the loot for you.”

Mus looked at him. “No. Your understanding is flawed. Trial rewards reflect society. It will give prizes that already exist in the community. If skills are rare in the wider geography, the same occurs in the trials. That is why a helpful competitor species could change everything for an old species like mine. Unlock full classes, regain synergies that have lost from time and greatly improve the strength of an entire race.”

“Our volunteers will act like the catalyst for an avalanche where a single pebble at the top can cause a wave of rock at the base of the mountain that can flatten a city.”

“Correct. What I’m offering is not a sinkhole of their potential.” the otter told him carefully. “These volunteers have the opportunity to have a material impact on Existentia. Recreating lost skills and classes and being responsible for the reemergence of the Lookuns as a force will be worth a lot and they will be treated well. I’ll ensure that they are granted all the rights of an honoured guest.”

“Let’s talk price.” Joline said.

Mus blinked slowly toward her.

Joline ignored him. “I was thinking an ongoing rental arrangement would be appropriate.”

“No.” Mus interrupted. “I am many week’s journey away from my home, even on birdbrain and you are migratory.”

“We have a settlement,” Joline said instinctively.

“Do not insult my intelligence. You cannot hold that settlement. Maybe you can weather the next wave, but the fourth will overwhelm you.”

Joline nodded reluctant acceptance.

“A long-term rental won’t work because of the difficulty of communication.” Mus stated.

“That’s not true.” Joline said frostily. “We are a competitor race. You could absolutely transfer wealth back to us via the auction house. Such an arrangement would suit you because it will lower your upfront costs and will basically be funded by the services the volunteers are giving your people.”

“No.” Mus interrupted. “It is too complicated. The full price must be settled before I depart.”

“I’m not sure that is acceptable.” Joline said thoughtfully. “The payment options you have available are limited to what you are carrying. What can you actually offer us?”

Mus’s whiskers twitched, but more in respect than humour. “I have many trade goods that will satisfy you, but let’s talk price first.”

“Are you suggesting we barter?” Joline asked in disbelief.

The otter’s snout twitched. Its paws contracted and then they flashed towards its snout and it rubbed its whiskers furiously while slipping over and rolling in the wading pool.

Almost a minute later, the otter emerged. “Sorry, the thought of relying on barter for this sort of transaction amused me too much. No, we will use the currency of Existentia.”