The small balcony overlooking Harehill had been constructed on the suggestion of Graham. He wanted somewhere nice to overlook the town. I thought it was a silly request at first, but now that I was sitting on it I saw the value.
Cain sat across from me at the table. He had asked to talk to me multiple times yesterday, but I was exhausted after hooking up a fifth Rabbitfolk village to the network. Harehill had the honor of being at the center of our five villages, so caravans were passing up and down the street every couple of hours. Those caravans seemed to be getting bigger, too. We were turning into a trade-hub that had materialized out of thin air, even if that trade-hub wasn't built by or even necessarily for human players.
“Jeremiah…hello?” Cain waved a hand in front of my face.
I snapped out of my thoughts. “Sorry, man. What’s up?”
“Look…you’re taking a leadership role, and that’s cool. That means you have to make decisions though.”
“What decisions?” Although I had a feeling what decisions he was talking about already. Cain had been bemoaning the lack of structure for a while. Graham was content with safety and seeking progress. Cain, on the other hand, wanted everything to be organized perfectly. I wasn’t sure why I had chosen Graham as my right hand man, but that might have played a part in it.
“You are basically running an empire, right? Or...at least...that seems to be where we're headed. That's a lot of people management. You need to make decisions like...what are the rules? Who's going to handle the dungeons? Who's going to handle the gathering? Who's going to lead the satellite villages...hell....who's going to lead everything. There's a ton of aspects to this and we're kinda just stumbling into it.”
He had a point. I had vague aspirations for what I wanted this area to look like in ten years, but I hadn't put a ton of thought into exactly how we were going to get there. “What’d you major in?”
“Huh?” He frowned at me.
“In college.” It seemed like a bit of an out of the blue question, but I was curious. Cain seemed to know a lot about what he was talking about, or at least was trying to seem like he did.
“I…I was in business management.”
Cain was exactly who I thought he was. A college frat kid who ended up in this apocalypse just like him. My biases made me think he was dumb, but that had been proven wrong several times over. I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was definitely a huge potential leader for whatever this Commonwealth thing turned out to be. “That makes sense. I figured it was something like business.”
“I’m not fucking around here, J. I'm serious and I want to help. I just...want to solve minor issues before they become major ones."
“I know.” I thought about it. He was right. People who sold products weren’t making much. A few dozen gold a day maybe. Those who were gathering materials for in-town projects were making even less. Larry, one of the civilians from Hubbard Creek, had gotten his Lumber skill to Level 14 and was bringing in log after log. Each time he chopped down a tree, it seemed to respawn three days later. He was maximizing this. He was invaluable to the town, yet he was living off donations practically. “So what do you want to do?”
“I think we should tax and redistribute.”
“You want to split our gold even more?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying the towns people need some of the income.”
“We’re fine right now.”
“Yeah, but we might not be in a bit.” Cain’s blonde hair was falling into his eyes and it was making it hard to tell what mood he was in.
“What do you mean?”
“What do we do if we reach 5,000 people?”
“We do what we’re doing now. People are getting food.”
“We need some sort of daily stipend for civilians. If we don’t, no ones going to keep doing it and they’ll leave for a guild who does that.”
“The other guilds are doing that?”
“They have to. That’s how governments function. People aren't going to willingly make themselves lower class because they don't want to go out and risk death every day. That's not fair to them and that's going to destroy our support network.”
I thought on what he was saying. My number one reason for not joining the Eastland Guild was the guild tax. Every bit of loot you made was taxed a percentage and that pool was redistributed for everyone. It sounded fair, but at the same time unfair. We were the ones going hunting and looting this gold. The crafters were selling items on the marketplace or to the caravans. Why should our gold go to gatherers? Still…they needed money too. They were working just as hard. God knows how many hours Larry is working a week. “I’ll think about it.”
“Maybe we should bring it up at the next meeting.”
“Maybe.” I tapped my finger on my chin. “You heard about Sally’s sister?”
“Yeah. I did.” Cain seemed just as concerned as I did.
We were all shocked a few days ago when a pigeon flew down right into the middle of Harehill. Nick and Matt said it was probably a summoner mage spell. The pigeon carried a letter that said it was from New Tulsa, whatever that meant. I wasn’t able to see guilds in other states unless they were on the Global Top 100 Guilds Leaderboard. The letter was addressed to Sally and was from her sister, it asked her to move up north to Oklahoma and join them. They said they had a few hundred people and things were good up there.
We were secluded in the middle of nowhere Texas, and our people were still being poached. Sally is a big crafter for us with her Illumination Crafting Skill so high. We need her here. Luckily for us, she said her and her son were happy here. That didn’t mean other similar things wouldn’t happen. The world was inching slowly back to the globalization it once had. Humanity already knows what it can achieve and how, and it was putting in the work to get back there.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I looked at Cain and shrugged. “Hell, maybe you can be our Financial Director.”
He laughed before looking at me. “That might be less of a joke than you think.”
“Oh?”
“I figure most of those big guilds work like hybrid companies and governments. There’s probably a whole org chart for the big ones. You might need a presidential cabinet at some point.”
“Jeremiah for President, 2052.” I smirked at the thought.
He shrugged. “Who knows? It’s something to consider.”
I nodded. Cain was smart, even if he was a dick sometimes. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course.”
“What’s going on with you and Theresa?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are y’all…a thing?”
“No…not exactly. We used to be.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Before?”
“Yeah. We broke up a week before the start. When the electricity went out, she came to the frat house and asked for me. She said she was nervous. Next thing I know it was just her and me and Rosco.”
I saw the twinge of sadness when he mentioned the Shifter. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s cool. We decided that we won’t work well together, but we’re both still alive and that’s something.”
I nodded, not wanting to go any deeper into this. “Well…anything else you wanted to ask me?”
“Yeah, actually. I’d like to go talk to the Finfolk up at Hubbard Creek. Maybe we can add them into this whole thing.”
“Just you?”
“I might take Matt or someone with me, but I want to contribute. You made it pretty clear that you and Graham are running the show here so-”
“Woah…what makes you say that?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but no one ever said anything about it before.
“Come on.” He gave me a half-smile. “Anyways…I just want to do something myself.”
I nodded. “Hell, you don’t need my permission. Go for it.”
He smiled. “I’ll go in the morning. Hey, J?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good leader.”
I gave him a nod and a smile. “Thanks.” He stood up and walked back down the lookout tower stairs as I watched the town. Everything moved fast in this game, and the construction was no exception.
------------------------------
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Vincent ran through the courthouse, his purple cloak in tatters. “Sarah! Get a fucking portal!”
“Go! Go! Go! Charlie Team! Left wing! Bravo! Right Wing! Delta, with me!” The sound of the Liberty soldiers behind him made Vincent turn his sprint into a mad dash for safety. Sarah chugged along behind him.
Vincent turned a corner, finding the doors and running. Persepolis was in flames. “Sarah! Portal to Barracks 2 and tell everyone to meet me a mile north!”
“Where are you going?” The tears down her cut up face were absorbing the blood and forming wet, pink stains on her chestplate.
“I’m going to save our King.” Vincent darted back into the courthouse, heading for the throne room.
The heavy footsteps of two Liberty soldiers ahead of him made him stop. “Okay…here we go.” Vincent turned the corner of the hallway, seeing the two soldiers with their red cloaks and immediately casted [Holy Explosion]. The men were flung to either side of the walls while Vincent charged forward. [Burning Sword] flashed out at one of the two men, Vincent striking him in the neck and sending him to the ground as he clutched his throat. Turning on the other, Vincent outstretched his hand and cast [Holy Explosion] again, this one directly to the mans chest and killing him instantly. Turning on his heels, Vincent stabbed his sword through the crawling soldiers chest and heard the tip of the blade strike the floor underneath him. “Fuck.”
With both dead, Vincent made his way to the throne room. Several civilians in purple shirts and robes ran past him, making their way to the exits. He kicked open the door and saw Perseus surrounded by half a dozen purple cloaks. The soldiers of the Crusade were face to face with a dozen members of Red Liberty.
Vincent glared at the group. No strikes had been delivered yet, and the two clans were in a stand off. “VINCENT! You must not be here.”
“My lord!” Vincent took a step towards Perseus, causing the Liberty soldiers to look back at him.
“Vincent…leave, now.” Perseus had a look of both fear and acceptance on his face that sent dread through Vincent’s chest.
“I-...I can’t just leave…”
The cold whistling from one of the adjoining hallways filled the room. Silence fell over the men. The clanking of plate boots on the marble floor filled the halls. As the figure emerged, the members of Red Liberty fell to their knees. The purple cloaks took the opportunity to readjust and form a tighter circle around their king. The man who entered the chamber wore black plate armor outlined by crimson red detailing. His long red cloak scraped the ground and nearly covered the massive two-handed warblade attached to his back. “You should listen to your king, Vincent.”
His ominous faceless helm faced Vincent and he could feel the stare. The voice was booming and dark, like something out of a nightmare. “High Lord Armistice.”
The figure took a bow and turned to Perseus. “Percy…I suggest you tell your men to place their weapons down.”
Perseus nodded, his young face suddenly looking a century old and full of experience and wisdom. “Men, disarm.”
The captain of the King’s Guard turned. “M’lord? We can’t just-”
With blinding speed, the warblade had been unsheathed and placed directly through the captain’s chestplate. He stared at the High Lord for what felt like an eternity before falling dead on the floor.
Vincent could feel the sweat on his forehead. It was true. Armistice really did have the [Teleport] ability. He opened the profile and choked back a gasp. “Armen G. - Level 32 Blood Knight”. 32? He was 6 levels higher than Perseus and 11 levels higher than Vincent himself. What the hell was a Blood Knight?
“NO! Armistice, stop!" Perseus looked at his King's Guard. "Men! STAND THE HELL DOWN!” Perseus cared about one thing more than anything else: the well being of those loyal to him.
The rest of the King’s Guard nodded and un-equipped their blades, backing up. A long and cruel laugh came from Armistice. “Good…good….”
He took a step towards the throne, then another. As he reached Perseus, the King stood and stared down at the faceless abomination. Armistice responded by delivering a single punch that sent the King of the Abilene Crusade skating across the marble floor. Armistice turned around, adjusted his cloak, and sat back into the throne with a sigh. “This is a very comfy chair, Percy.” Vincent could almost feel the man’s cruel smile beneath the mask. “We have a lot to talk about, your highness.”