The campfire players fought briefly. They fought valiantly. And then they died.

Most fell to arrows and the flaming orbs. But two others left the trees with swords and soon butchered the last, wounded stragglers. Blake kept entirely still.

“Mikkel, I gotta tell ya, those fireballs are getting badass.”

The attackers were laughing now, joking amongst themselves. Blake listened carefully for names, classes, personality details, any information he could use for Mental Influence.

“It was mostly my arrows that did the actual killing,” said another of the murderers, sounding vaguely offended. Blake noted the voice, pleased to hear the tone because it sounded like a genuine chip on the man’s shoulder. “Not my fault it’s not as flashy,” he added.

“Ha. Whatever, B-dog, I’m just glad you boys did most of the work. Dead is dead is dead, am I right?”

“Shut up and check the bodies,” said another, and Blake focused on him. The leader, he expected, official or otherwise. “Hey, you civilians!” shouted the same voice. “Get your asses over here or we’ll march you to a wolf den.”

“Gotta go, kid,” Hank whispered, and Blake gave him a nod. “Good luck.”

“Ohh we’ve got another woman.” Apparently they’d found Big Nose. “Shit look at that face. Well, she’s got a nice body.”

“Paper bag for sure,” said another voice, and the group all laughed.

“Sebastian will take her anyway.”

“Yeah but the more he’s got the more leftovers for us. It’ll work out. Now keep it down.”

The civilians came back from their scattered positions around the campfire, eyes cast down and faces pale.

“I’m Paul. You’re coming with us to our settlement,” said the now confirmed leader of the group. “You’ll get work and housing, food and safety. We’ll protect you. You’re part of Nassau now.”

Blake practically snorted at the name. Nassau (on top of still being a place) was a famous old pirate port in the Bahamas. Apparently these idiots thought themselves bandit kings.

The killers were checking the corpses now, and Blake had run out of time. He put his hands in the air and stood.

A young, silent man who stood next to ‘Paul’ leaned over and whispered in the man’s ear. His eyes instantly turned to Blake, and he raised his sword.

“You’re not a civilian. Get on your knees. Now. You idiots, are there any more of them?”

Blake focused on Paul, and sent a giant blast of mental energy with a single purpose: Greed.

“I have information. And I’ll be useful to your leader.” He put a little shake in his voice to sound afraid. “He’ll want to see me.”

Paul snorted, and his men laughed. “That so? So go ahead and tell me. I’ll decide.”

Blake shook his head.

“He’ll want to hear it alone. But you’ll be rewarded. I can guarantee it.”

Paul laughed like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, but there was curiosity in his eyes.

“Guarantee, is it? You don’t know my chief. Check him for weapons.”

The other sword-wielding player grabbed Blake roughly and soon found Rajesh’s sword lying at his feet. He picked it up and gave an approving nod before tying it to his waist. They all stared at Blake, and at their leader, in a moment Blake supposed was rather tense. But he knew how it would go.

“Alright. Bring the pretty boy, too.”

Blake closed his eyes and pretended to sag in relief. It wasn’t too difficult. He knew he wasn’t going to die here, not like this, but it had certainly got his heart going.

He said a silent prayer for Mona and the others, then accepted the players tying his hands together and marching him along with the civilians.

They moved them in silence the rest of the day before meeting another group of players. Apparently they’d organized themselves. And rather quickly.

“Take these back to camp,” their leader told the new group. “Tell ‘em it’s my gift. And this one here said he’s valuable. If he’s not, at least Sebastian can have a little fun.”

He turned and winked at Blake, then the new group of four players took them and marched them all the way through the evening.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Blake’s feet were killing him. He was thirsty and had gained a stitch in his side that just ebbed and flowed and never seemed to go away. Fortunately, in all the boredom, he’d managed to activate Meditation even while walking, as long as he sort of clung to Hank’s back and used him as a walking guide.

He got a few strange looks, but nobody stopped him. By the time he blinked and realized he was looking at a long, maybe fifteen foot actual wall of something like concrete in the middle of the forest, his mana was fully recharged.

“Home sweet home,” said one of the nameless raiders, then Blake and the civilians were pushed and shepherded inside, straight to a large building that looked like a town hall.

“You got a plan?” Hank whispered over his shoulder as they waited.

“Always.” Blake grinned as if he didn’t have a care in the world, then turned more serious. “I won’t forget what you did back there.”

Hank nodded, then looked at the ground.

“Sorry about the girl.

“Me too.” Blake sighed. “But now we move on. We survive.”

In the middle of the street, the ‘pirate’ raiders of Nassau had built some kind of circular, wooden structure that looked like a pen. Inside were maybe a dozen people sitting in clusters, looking miserable and filthy. One of the men opened a gate, then gestured inside.

“Go on in. You wait here till the chief comes and sees you. There’s a few buckets for your business. And we’ll bring food and water when we feel like it. Till you sign a contract, you ain’t shit. Understand?”

Hank and the other civilians exchanged looks, then walked through the gate. The same rather crude, unlikeable fellow turned to Blake and looked him up and down.

“Shit. You’re prettier than some of the women. Get on up to the chief before I fit ya in a dress.”

“Charming. I’m Blake, what’s your name?” Blake forced a smile, then regretted it slightly when he took a hard cuff to the back of the head.

“Walk, darlin’.”

Blake walked to the hall as commanded. There were several other players here all staring as he reached the door. His unpleasant jailer went in first, then came out and grunted for Blake to go inside.

His eyes widened as he entered. There were working lights. All kinds of modern furniture. And what looked like a proper kitchen with refrigerator, stove, everything.

They ushered Blake into a kind of office, where he found a maybe mid 30s giant of a man who looked like he’d just left the beach. The room was surprisingly tasteful, with a plush rug, a fireplace, a desk that belonged in some corporate law firm.

“My man says you have something useful for me,” ‘Chief’ Sebastian said in an Australian accent. “That better be true.”

Blake took a moment to calm his nerves. He wanted a sense of this man before he wasted too much mana on Mental Influence.

“I assume you’ve discovered you can’t hurt civilians,” he said. “Or force them to do as you like. At least not easily. Hence the cage.”

The big man stopped playing with his rubix cube, his green eyes narrowing.

“Enough time in a cage, and they’ll sign.”

Blake shrugged.

“Trade contracts. Maybe service. Because in the end you can’t kill them. The system will know if you starve them in your town. I don’t know what it’ll do, but I don’t imagine…”

“And why the hell do you know anything about anything? Who are you?”

“My name is Blake. And I know things because that’s what I do. Just like I know sooner or later those civilians are likely to break out of your cage. You can’t truly stop them. That’s not how this works.”

The big man just watched him with a predator’s eyes in silence, and Blake mentally winced. He was smarter than he looked. Or at least more cunning.

“I would say the only reason they haven’t already is because they’re more afraid of the forest than they are of you. And where else would they go?” He could see he was right, and gestured at the chair set out in front of the chief’s desk. Sebastian nodded, and Blake sat.

“I’m a Mentalist class,” he said. “I can…influence how people think.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

“Anyone?”

“Only those weaker than me,” Blake added quickly, silently cursing himself.

The chief shot a stream of saliva through a gap in the front of his teeth.

“By the looks of you, that’s basically no one.”

“As you say.” Blake bowed his head, then smiled. “Civilians, however, are weaker than me. My powers work quite well on them.”

He had no idea if that was true, of course, but Sebastian instantly perked up and Blake knew he’d found his leverage.

“Allow me to serve you here as these others do.” Blake gestured towards the door. “I’ll help get you what you want.”

“Bonded contracts,” Sebastian said instantly. “Especially the women.”

Blake almost sighed at the obvious nature of the request. The big ‘chief’ wanted his own harem of sex slaves, though Blake expected just slaves in general would make him happy. He was beginning to understand the man.

“It will take time,” Blake said. “My mana recharges only so fast.”

Sebastian snorted as it to say ‘of course it will’.

“I’m not a patient man. And I’d bet you’re a liar. Maybe I should just beat you to death instead.”

“I can get you service contracts first,” Blake said soothingly, now flooding the chief with a wave of trust using Mental Influence. “I’ll get you all the men, first, as a demonstration. All of them. Just leave me in their cage for two days. What does it cost you?”

He could see Sebastian had already agreed, but his pride was a problem. “You have one,” he snapped.

Blake probably only needed a few hours, but he wanted as much time as possible to influence the raiders. He scoffed and appeared flustered.

“My powers take considerable mana. It only recharges so fast, which is why I need more time, and…”

“One day, or I cut off your pretty head and leave it on a spike.”

Blake licked his lips.

“I’m sure I can make do.”

“Get him out of here,” Sebastian called through the door, which opened instantly. “Throw him in the cage. I’ll see to him when I feel like it.”

A different, slightly older man with a spear lifted Blake and took him out, but not aggressively. As they left the hall Blake met the man’s eyes, and the spearman shrugged.

“He’s…not as bad as he seems. Not quite. Don’t piss him off. Do something useful, and you’ll be alright.” He took Blake down to the cage and opened the door.

“Appreciate it.” Blake smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Uh. Garet.”

Blake nodded and instantly gave the fellow a blast of friendly Mental Influence. He’d be the first target. The first soldier in Blake’s revolution.

“Hello.” Blake grinned at the cluster of staring civilians as he trudged inside.

The gate closed behind him, and he nodded at Hank and Billy and the few other civilians he’d met at the camp. Then he sat next to Hank and pretended to be just as dejected and miserable as everyone else.

He could see all the raiders through the cage, and the whole world lit with possibilities when he activated Mental Influence. It was time to get to work.