King’s Castle, December 19, 2036
The Slaver King’s living room was larger than a small house.
He sat in the most comfortable couch in the world. And that was a fact. He didn’t expend a massive amount of time and resources to turn a carpenter into a high level master couch craftsman. The same with an upholsterer made into a master upholsterer.
The bespoke couch was made for him and him alone to exacting measurements that were impossible without the aid of Skills.
The way it held him like a baby in his mother’s arms was heavenly.
Scantily clad slave women fed him snacks and massaged his feet, legs and neck.
He had been tense when he should’ve been relaxed and happy with how well his Freedom Championships had been going.
Three weeks in and he couldn’t remember how many epic and exciting action he had the privilege to witness. From the strongest in the Gold Division to the lower levels in Bronze there was something that got his blood pumping. There was even that group of feeders that just refused to die. Thrice now, they’d won and killed monsters, granted they lost people each time. However, someone with deep pockets and influence continued to provide them with replacements.
He had ordered his people to look into it. Though, not as a priority.
It was a curiosity, but not the first time that one of the nobles decided to deal with their boredom through anonymous acts of excess.
Shake the box of ants and see what happens.
He understood the sentiment.
Had done so himself on occasion.
The Freedom Championships owed its genesis to it.
He focused his attention back to the match replay on his projector.
The screen took up most of the massive wall opposite from him.
It was like having a movie theater all to himself. Almost like the theater in his childhood home. Though that one only sat twenty people. He could fit five times that number in his living room.
The third round match or the Sweet Sixteen, as he privately referred to it, was between the Blue-haired girl and Blackstar. 1 seed versus 5 seed.
He had already seen it live earlier in the morning, but he wanted to watch it less as a fan and more as a potential opponent.
“Excuse me, your majesty,” his slave butler said in a stately voice.
“What?” he tilted his head back.
“Your guest has arrived.”
“Which one?”
“The large man that appears to roll around in mud.”
“Bring him in. Ladies, leave.”
His smiling slaves followed his command as they always did.
The slave butler escorted the man into the living room.
Big was an understatement, as was muddy.
The man’s clothing was tattered and covered in brown streaks.
It wasn’t all mud, at least if his sense of smell was correct.
The man’s gray hair was a wild, tangled nest. Quite literally, there were leaves and small bits of bark sticking out. His thick beard was in even worse shape. His ruddy complexion was another indicator that the man spent a lot of time exposed to the elements.
The man went to sit down on one of the comfortable lounge chairs.
“No,” King said.
The man shrugged and simply stood in a slouched stance eyes drifting over to the huge projection where the Blue-haired girl was punching Blackstar’s eponymous concussive blasts out of the air.
“What’cha want with me,” he slurred.
The man wasn’t drunk.
King knew that for a fact.
The man’s type needed to down an entire keg just to get buzzed. Their class supercharged their entire system. You’d need an equally supercharged toxin to make a dent.
“You enjoy the hunts, Garou?”
“Yeh… ain’t got much to complain bout on that account,” he shrugged boulder-like shoulders.
King gazed up at the beady eyes hidden in the shadow of a sloped brow.
“Too bad about your boy, Gator. Ran into my new champion.”
“Don’t know nothin’ bout that.”
“You didn’t watch?”
“Don’t care none.”
“I wondered why you didn’t enter. Why only Gator and Rou did? Aren’t you worried that they’ll take the rewards they’re going to get and take over your pack? Unseat you as the alpha.”
“Ain’t how that works.”
Garou didn’t elaborate.
“How does it work?”
“Strongest leads. Make the strongest submit, you lead.”
“Isn’t that what being an alpha means.
“Dem’s jus words. Ain’t meanin’ nothin’ to us true swamp folk. You civilized folk be the ones worryin’ bout what to call dem things.”
Blackstar did a nifty tactical trick blasting at the charging Blue-haired girl’s feet making her face plant into the dirt.
“You do you. It’s clearly working for you guys. Gator’s out, but Rou’s got a match coming up in a couple of days.”
Garou shrugged.
“Have you even seen any of your boys’ fights?”
A shake of the head.
“Then what are you doing when you aren’t… hunting?”
“Doin’ wut we’s agreed on. I stickin’ around case you need muscle, so’s long as you givin’ me prey to hunt when I’s needin’ dem.”
“I’m also generously providing you with as much land as you want in the everglades. Although, I think it’s time that you started providing returns on my investment.”
“Cain’t jus bite dem civilized folk to make ‘em like us. Cain’t be civilized like to git our class.”
“I know that, but how about I start by sending out people to live with you in the swamp. You make them uncivilized and then turn them like you.”
“Ain’t sure that’s how dem things work.”
“That’s fine, we’ll still try.”
Another shrug.
“I invited you into my castle for an additional reason.”
King shut off the replay just as the Blue-haired girl punted Blackstar like a football. He put on another replay.
In this one an attractive, if somewhat slightly furry woman savaged her opponent with quick and powerful swipes of her thick, sharp fingernails.
Garou perked up.
His eyes zeroed in on the screen.
Mouth opened to bare sharp canine teeth in an unconscious gesture.
“Got your hackles up?”
“Who?”
“Rino, from California. Don’t get the wrong impression. She’s not like you.”
“But—”
“We appraised her. Her class is weredog. Yeah, we didn’t know that was possible, but then again you learn something new everyday and I’m not using that like the tired cliche from the old days.”
A low rumble slipped out of Garou’s broad, barrel chest.
“Is that an angry growl or a horny one?”
“Dogs is for civilized folk. I ain’t civilized. I be pure. I be the wilderness.”
“Yeah, I hear you. So, are you going to run off to kill her?”
A shrug.
“Well, don’t. She’s a contestant and under my rules of hospitality. As long as she remains a good and proper guest, she’s untouchable, like all guests in my domain.”
“So’s why you be showin’ me?”
“Well, you see, I was wondering… wolves and dogs can breed…”
“Don’t know if this be somethin’ you can pass on to yer youngins.”
“Just a thought.”
“So’s what’cha want from me?”
“Keep close and maybe sniff around where this Rino comes and goes. I’ll give you the addresses she’s been observed around.”
“You ain’t tellin’ me somethin’.”
“Nothing big, really, just that my eyes and ears are starting to pick up connections among some of my guests.”
“Then I be goin’. If’n ya need somethin’ else—”
“I know where to find you… oh, and please don’t attack my men. I’m providing you with prey so that you can satisfy those urges on the right people.”
“Ain’t none smart enough to be puttin’ dem hands in the wolf’s jaws.”
Garou left without another word.
“For such a big man, he sure moves quietly,” King said.
“It helps that he doesn’t wear shoes.”
A woman’s voice, sultry and inviting.
Tempting as all good traps tended to be.
He turned to his left.
An exquisite woman sat in one of his lounge chairs at a safe distance.
He wondered for whom.
“Lady Velvet. You’ve let yourself in as always. Had I known you’d be like this I never would’ve invited you in the first place.”
“That only works in stories,” she threw her head back in laughter letting her vivid red mane toss invitingly
The woman was tall, shapely. The picture of perfection. Like a painting, a sculpture. Her pale skin evoked alabaster. Her red eyes danger.
A dark veil across her face covered her mouth.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Another predator in his living room.
Unlike the brutish, wild man, this was the elegant dagger slipped into your neck.
“Sun’s not fully set,” he said lightly.
“Its hate for us is not equal, as I’m sure you’ve seen in your little tournament.”
“Blood-soaked assassin. I guessed it was one of you,” he nodded, “would you tell me how he managed to fool my appraisers?”
“Would you share the secrets of your collars?”
“Fair,” he conceded. “Although, how is he spending so much time out in the sun. One of his matches was at noon.”
“Full-coverage clothing, strong sunscreen and a Skill or two, but you didn’t call me here when you would’ve just called him if these mundane questions are all you’re after.”
“Yeah, you’re sharp as a fang, as always.”
“And you’re not nearly as funny as you think… as always.”
King snorted. “Alright, then, answer this question. Have you or any of your little— what do you call it, again? Oh, that’s right, coterie, have you been indulging in your more predatory instincts in say the last two months or so?”
“You mean in addition to our arrangement?”
“Yup.”
“No.”
He pulled a truth gem out of his pocket.
It remained dull.
Velvet raised a brow. “I thought a king knows when his subjects are untruthful?”
“That works fine for normal people. The higher the level the dicier it gets, but since I’m so high-leveled it’s really a non issue most of the time. You might be different. Your class might give you something that lets you hide your true nature. I mean, that’s, like, built into your kit. Melting into shadows, hiding in mist, turning into small animals.”
“We are happy with our arrangement. Indeed, it’s provided pleasure and purpose. We get to indulge our true selves without having you people trying to burn us and such. Besides, we aren’t wasteful. Blood is plentiful, thanks to your generosity.”
“No big deal, tons of hospitals and blood banks all over the place. Zero labor involved beyond packing them up and sending them to you.”
“Yes and we’ve found that it is more beneficial for us to let the prey live with only a little bloodletting. The ones we’ve used the longest even develop Skills and classes tailored to thwarting our hunt. It makes for a truly exhilarating experience. The excitement! The challenge! As we all know, with challenge comes gains.”
“Between you and me. I’m much happier with our arrangement than I am with what I’ve got with the furries. You make good, proper use of my essential supply. They just eat them.”
“It is time then?” she said.
“Time for?”
“Don’t play coy. I may have… accidentally overheard portions of your conversation with that brute…”
“Yeah. I think so. Expansion is on the horizon and there are powerful forces out there in my yet to be reclaimed republic. A force of people with your class is crucial to our continued lives of privilege.”
“There is wisdom in what you say, your majesty. However, there is also danger. Our class is unpredictable. You’d risk turning some people into monsters. No better than the real ones.”
“Sure, but there’s no reward without risk. What we do is mitigate. You do your thing, but in a controlled environment. We watch your little ones closely until we know they can control themselves.”
“There is also an issue of blood supply. I’ve talked about this with my coterie and there is a number that we can’t cross.”
“Yeah, I get that. It’s like with wolves. You need a hundred sheep for, say five wolves. The ratio needs to stay stable. If the predators start to out compete the prey then you’ll eventually end up with all predators no prey.”
“Just so,” Velvet inclined her head. “But, I’m willing to undertake this experiment… slowly, carefully.”
“Of course. That’s how I do things. There’s no need to be reckless.”
“I sense that there is another matter playing on your thoughts.”
“You sense? Or is it something else.”
Velvet arched a perfect, red brow.
“Back to my first question. The reason I asked is because it looks like there’s a serial killer in my city. The center of my kingdom. And my men are proving useless.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of this… troubling news.”
“Bodies in the woods, in the canals and now inside their own locked homes.”
“How were they killed?”
“Cut and stabbed.”
“Ah!” Velvet clapped delicate-looking hands. The red on her fingernails just as bright and vivid as her hair. “Then it couldn’t have been one of us. We would never waste the blood.”
“Which, brings me to the next point I wanted to cover,” he grinned. “It occurs to me that you and your coterie are the perfect people to solve this problem.”
Velvet’s eyes stared into his.
He steeled his will.
He knew a little bit of what she could do. It shouldn’t be a problem for him, since he was a king and higher leveled.
The struggle he anticipated never emerged.
She looked away.
He realized that she didn’t blink like a normal person.
“A true hunt then,” she nodded.
“Great! Bring them in alive if possible. I have so many questions for them and depending on what I get there could be a job offer. Feel free to share that information when you catch them.”
“As the king commands,” she inclined her head a fraction.
“Cool! I’m going to turn my head now and you do that thing were you vanish without a trace…” he slowly turned his head. The reflection on the glass cover of his giant wall painting showed Velvet sitting on his lounge chair.
He blinked.
She was gone.
He spun around.
Velvet was probably right.
An army of vampires was too risky.
Same with the werewolves.
Too easy for both to get out of control.
However, a small, loyal force of elite spies, assassins and special forces on steroids was perfect for his needs.
The problems with SoCal revealed the need.
In the world made by the spires, power was in the hands of the individual.
To bring about his kingdom, his New American Republic, he needed more power in his hands.
He and Noel just had to make collars that worked on nonbasic humans.
Dozens of hopes, dreams and plans danced through his head as he went back to the replay he had been watching when Garou had come in.
The Blue-haired girl held a fist to the cheering crowd as it rained adulation down. She had a foot planted on Blackstar’s chest.
The woman was alive, if badly beaten up.
He wondered about the girl.
She had refused to even acknowledge the invitations and messengers he had sent. She was yet another mystery brought to him by the championships.
A child in appearance, yet the appraisers were certain that she qualified over the minimum age. That they didn’t get anything else from her only added to the mystique. No class, no Skills, not even a name.
He made a note to extend an invitation to Blackstar. She had fought well in both the team and one versus one events in the Gold Division. An unclassed. Superpowered. The true divide in humanity. You either had one or the other. With the latter being extremely rare.
In any case, it was in his best interest to get most of these competitors to bend the knee and come work for him.
He wouldn’t force it. Just make it clear that it was in their best interests in terms of their long-term prospects. He had plans for what was once America and after that?
Well, the world awaited.
“We need to find out if it’s hereditary,” he muttered.
Would matching a werewolf and weredog result in one or the other? A half version? Or did it follow normal class rules where what you did and how you saw yourself tended to be the determining factor?
“Excuse me, your majesty. Your last guest of the evening has arrived. Shall I send her in?” his slave butler said.
A woman with twelve eyes walked stiffly into the living room and refused to take a seat even though he was magnanimous enough to offer her one.
He regarded her brown skin and almond eyes.
The years were writ upon her weather-lined face.
The eyes, though, held power and anger.
He wouldn’t have known that she was a lot more dangerous than her 50 plus years suggested had he not seen her in action.
Magus of the Ten Eyes.
She had refused to divulge any other name.
None of his appraisers and interrogators had succeeded in prying it out of her.
Indeed, outside of himself and maybe a few others there were none that could compel her to do anything against her will.
Which was why he had used the safety of her own employees against her.
Ten eyes from some unknown monster orbited around her.
Four glared balefully at him.
The other six spun to provide coverage in every direction.
“We really didn’t get to talk much the one time we were fact to face,” he began.
“I remember your words,” she said flatly. “Fight in your little farce or my friends, the ones you didn’t murder, suffer,” she spat.
“Good, good. I won’t have to rehash the details of our agreement.”
“It is not an agreement when one party is unwilling and under duress. Though, from the country you’ve created, it’s obvious that you lack an understanding of the word’s definition.”
“You could’ve just walked or flew away,” he shrugged. “I’m honest enough to admit that we couldn’t have stopped you. Don’t get me wrong, if it came down to a fight, I’d destroy you. It’d be hard and I’d take shots, but… well, you know…” he leaned forward and stared into her human eyes, “except you couldn’t run and take your employees with you.”
“What is the purpose of this waste of time?”
“Revisiting said agreement,” he smiled.
“I’ve done as you asked.”
“Have you, though? Two fights and I can tell you’re barely putting in effort. The first guy you just put to sleep. And the second guy, you just hit him with tiny little beams that barely burned him while floating around. The poor bastard quit out of frustration. His wounds? Barely as bad as scalding water. That is not what I want to see. It isn’t t part of our agreement. I specifically told you that you would do your best.”
“It’s not my concern if my opponents are not to your satisfaction.”
“Listen, Arab,” he dropped the amiable facade. “I know your story. I know you came from Egypt. Walked across North Africa, up into Spain, England, Ireland, Greenland or Iceland, whichever, down though Canada and finally into old America. Figured you’d take the chance to immigrate now that the borders aren’t secure, did you?”
“Your racism reveals a small, petty, ignorant mind… or is it the other way around. I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“You think you’re so smart… well, who’s got whose balls in a vise?”
“Neither of us is so equipped.”
“For an old lady, it seems like you’ve got a pair,” he laughed. “Now,” he dropped his smile, “answer my questions or else your employees, friends, whatever, suffer… more.”
Several eyes narrowed. “More?”
“It depends on your willingness to answer questions and fight to your best ability.”
“You can’t hurt them. Their safety is your only leverage. As soon as you hurt them I will no longer have anything holding me back from, say, turning your degenerate arena into a charnel house. What would your people say when they realize that you can’t protect them?”
“There’s those balls again, well, I anticipated you’d be a little difficult, so…” he snapped his fingers. His slave butler approached with a covered plate placing it down on the glass table in front of the old woman. He gestured for the butler to leave it. “I don’t really like doing this sort of thing. It’s like you said before, too crude. But… needs must…” he lifted the cover to reveal a small pile of finger tips.
It was with some satisfaction that he watched the woman go from confused to horrified in real time.
Multiple eyes widened.
Two focused on him and began to shine with inner light.
“Careful, what you do to me I’ll do to them and they can’t heal like I do, as you know,” he chided. “Now, it’s not as bad as it looks. I only took their fingertips and not all of them came from one person. You’ve got a number of friends that are my current guests. I couldn’t tell you which finger tip belongs to which person. Only that I took one, two at most, from…” he counted the bloody digits on the platter, “seven… ten people.”
“I’m not surprised. You’ve displayed the bearing of a true monster. It’s in evidence everywhere I turn in this kingdom of slaves.”
“They’re all happy to serve,” he said simply. “In fact, I’m considering giving your friends the same honor. It’s why I only took a fingertip or two. I don’t believe in maiming our essential workers. It’d only make them worse at their jobs. Wasteful.”
The old woman calmed.
Her eyes followed suit.
“I will try harder in my next match,” she said through grit teeth.
“Good. Good. I’m hoping the steampunk cyborg can push you better than your first two opponents,” he nodded. “Now, to my next issue. In speaking to your friends. I’ve learned some interesting things about what you’ve been up to in my lands these past four years. Specifically, who and what you encountered about four years ago. You remember New York, right?”
“Yes… I know you’ve tortured my friends, so they would’ve told you everything there was to know about our studies and exploration. I left instructions that they cooperate.”
“And they did.”
“And you cut of their fingers.”
“Just the tip, right to the knuckle, basically just a finger nail or two, not that big of a deal,” he shrugged.
“There is nothing I can add to the story.”
“Just give it a shot. We paint a more complete picture when we collaborate. I remember that night. Everyone around here has a story about being awoken by the flash of light that turned night into day. Then the thunder a few minutes later. I thought someone had popped a nuke, but then the light didn’t go away. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never seen a nuclear bomb go off before so I have no idea how long the light stays, but over a few minutes seems too long for an explosion, even as powerful as a nuke. There was the lack of a mushroom cloud and so I started thinking that it had to be something else. Magic was the only other rational conclusion. Unfortunately, we weren’t as strong back then as we are today. I sent a few teams north to try to investigate, but never heard from them again. So, I stopped, why waste my people needlessly? And then you came down the coast,” he raised a brow.
“Get to your point. I have to prepare for the match tomorrow.”
“The man with one hand. You found him in a field. Unconscious and yet, untouched by the monsters and mutants that presumably came to eat him. They slaughtered each other or simply stood and waited, which is where you and your friends came in. They said you spoke to the man before you went to New York to investigate the explosion. Some kind of being from another world. I knew that the possibility of intelligent alien life shot up when the spires told us that we could travel to another world.”
“And you’d enslaved them as well.”
“Trust me, Arab, they’d do the same to us if they could. But, luckily for you, I’m here to stand in their way. A guardian for humanity standing on the wall to keep the monsters at bay.”
“Is that what you call it? Luck. I’m lucky to fight for the braying, bloodthirsty masses? I’m lucky to sit here with a plate of my friends’ fingers in front of me?”
“You know, it’d be easy for me to just put collars on their necks. I’d lose you as a participant and a resource, but there are alternates,” he shrugged.
“There is nothing for me to add to the story. I spoke to the man. He revealed nothing beyond what you’ve already taken from my friends. I kept no secrets from them. There was an alien being. The man killed it, which resulted in the energy release that turned night into day and turned much of Manhattan into a smoking crater.”
He chewed on the information for a few minutes.
“Normally, I’d push you harder on this, but you do have a match tomorrow and I want you at your best,” he said. “Go on, get out of here and don’t disappoint me. Your friends only have so many fingertips.”
The old woman stood and followed his slave butler out.
Ten eyes gazed at him as if they could see right into his soul.
“Can’t wait to see what those things can really do!” he said.