Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Five: 'O, twisted Mover...'

'Please tell me you are done with this nonsense,' said Bool privately.

"It's not nonsense," said Morgunov. "It's a great humanitarian effort. This could change the world for the better if I decide to mass produce it."

'Setting aside the first absurdity you uttered--how, pray tell, would a vending machine be able to change the world?'

"Because! It'll feed people! While also imparting a valuable life lesson that everyone should understand!"

'Which is?'

"That pain is incredibly valuable."

The truth was, he was nearly done. When it came to machinery, he didn't usually need very long unless it was something truly cutting edge. It had only taken him a couple hours to jury-rig the thing to his liking. He'd actually spent most of his time trying to decide on what the appropriate prices for each product should be.

A slap to the face for a pack of gum seemed fair, as did a boxing of the ears for a bag of chips and a purple nurple for a candy bar. He wondered if anyone would go for the bag of mini-donuts, though. Maybe a needle in the eye was too much to ask.

Eh, oh well.

The real problem was that servants with strong enough passive soul defenses would be able to just shrug all this stuff off. The longer he'd spent on this thing, the more he'd realized that he really wanted to make a version that could assess the buyer's soul power and adapt accordingly in order to ensure that they experienced the optimal degree of pain.

But that would obviously be a much more involving project. He'd have to invent a mechanism that could analyze soul power, and as far as he was aware, there was no modern technology that could accomplish that.

Dang, that sounded like fun.

'You realize that you're holding back our entire operation while you waste time fiddling with this thing, don't you?' said Bool.

"Eh, it's just another day of sieging," said Morgunov, rubbing his chin. A fresh shave always made him feel like a million sparks. Hmm, was that still a modern currency? Didn't matter. "The boys can handle it, I'm sure."

'It would go a lot faster if you lent a hand yourself.'

"How will they ever learn to stand on their own two feet, then?"

'They won't. That's the point. We WANT them to remain reliant on us.'

"Hmm, that seems a little selfish of us."

'Could you please stop talking aloud? Someone will overhear.'

It was true that there were many in their encampment now. When Morgunov had sent the call out to gather his forces, he hadn't quite expected this many to respond. How much had Abolish grown while he wasn't looking? Was this Jercash's doing? Probably.

All the attention had been rather nice, at first. It had felt like years since he'd been out in public and interacted with anyone.

Wait. Had it been years? Oh, maybe it had.

In any case, he'd been able to enjoy himself for a time. Meeting all the eager young folks, seeing that starry look in their eyes as so many of them laid eyes on him for the first time. It was no wonder why so many of his peers had gotten such a big ego over the years. So many of these youngins treated him like some sort of messiah, come to cleanse the land and show them a rollicking good time in the process.

Which wasn't inaccurate, he supposed. But still. No sense in getting a big head about it. Anyone could've orchestrated this war. In this political climate? And all the resources at his disposal? All the eager participants?

Child's play, as far as war games went.

It wouldn't be easy going forward, though. Kicking the hornet's nest wasn't the hard part. Getting away with it was.

He felt like this plan was pretty good, especially considering he'd only come up with it in about a day, but there was no telling what the future might hold.

At least, in the long-term.

The Vannies had obviously gotten all hot and bothered over all these fights breaking out simultaneously, but heck, they probably enjoyed having some real problems to deal with for a change. No doubt, they would've protested until the sun went down if someone were to say that to their faces, but there was no doubt in Morgunov's mind that they were just as sick as his boys were of this endless staring contest between the two of them.

Someone had to make something happen. Just a quaint little push.

And bam. Second Continental War.

It was a bit more than he'd bargained for, honestly. Old as he was, the actual depth of cultural strife between nations still managed to surprise him, sometimes. This one seemed like it might last for a good while.

His real objective, though, wasn't the war. That was just a useful distraction. Unfortunately, these days, he was far too famous to be traipsing around wherever he pleased. Sure, he had various means of stealthily entering or exiting countries--even ones hostile to him--but at the end of the day, this wasn't just about touring the world for funsies. If he was going to find his pet "god," then he would have to ruffle more than a few feathers in the process.

Which was why he was here in Calthos.

The recent events in this place were quite convenient for him. Apparently, the Rainlords of Sair had been run out by the Vanguard, and his own boys had already been harassing the Sandlords for a while, weakening them.

To compensate, the Vanguard's presence here was now stronger than most other regions, but Morgunov was reasonably sure that they weren't expecting him to show up.

Benefits of being regarded as a madman.

Even if they had spies informing them of his movements, he had enough double agents on his side to run interference. They wouldn't know who to trust--or even if the misinformation being provided was intentional or not.

Psyops were a fun hobby. He was glad he'd gotten into it at such a young age. There weren't many thrills greater than that of swaying an entire country into doing his bidding without realizing it.

Historically, though, that was one of the big reasons why Sair was always such a problem. The Sairi were more difficult to manipulate than most, doubtless because their servant population was also their ruling class. It afforded them a level of cultural rigidity that was virtually unmatched.

Eheh. What a weird little experiment of a country. Even today, he still recalled how surprised he'd been when he heard that a bunch of Rainlords and Sandlords were getting together in order to jointly rule a newly formed nation. No one thought it would last, including him. Maybe even including them.

Yet here it was, two hundred years later.

Morgunov admired the accomplishment.

Wasn't looking too good for them at the moment, of course, but even so, Morgunov had to admit that a small part of him hoped that Sair would survive this whole thing.

Ehehe. If they pulled that off, then they would certainly deserve it.

Ooh, or maybe their little god buddy would rustle up a miracle for them. Wouldn't that be something?

Rasalased, the so-called Dry God, was of course not one of the Primordial gods that Morgunov was chiefly interested in, but he still felt like he would've been a fool to let this opportunity pass him by. Wasn't often that this region of the continent became this unstable. And heck, maybe the ol' Raw Salad would be able to help him capture one of those slippery little buggers.

Oh, and he supposed he should try to free Ivan while he was at it. If he could be bothered. In a way, Ivan's capture was also somewhat fortunate, because the Vanguard and the Sandlords no doubt believed that he was Abolish's true objective in this campaign.

Plus, there were plenty of eager youngins who were hoping to be the one who found Ivan's head. It would be a pretty good way to earn some reputation, after all.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Eheh. The Void only knew how many young Abolishers were aiming to take advantage of this war in order to boost their fragile, piddling egos.

Good on them. The world needed more passion like that. And besides, Jercash always seemed to enjoy promoting the little dumplings.

Ah, Jercash. He hadn't been too pleased when he found out what Morgunov had done, but as much as that guy liked to protest, he'd been adapting to the war just fine. Better than fine, from the sound of it. He already had Hoss on the ropes, and the Vanguard had been forced to divert quite a significant chunk of their manpower just to keep him at bay. Kane, Grant, and Carson had all supposedly been dispatched to that region.

This would be the first real test for the sly boy in quite some time. Even for Morgunov, fending off three marshals at once wouldn't be easy.

But if Jercash really intended to lead Abolish on his own, one day, then he'd have to step up sooner or later.

Might as well be sooner.

Eheh.

As for the remaining marshals, that still left Sanko, Lamont, Jackson, and Graves. Lamont was here. Jackson was supposedly in Melmoore. Graves was supposedly in Vantalay. And Sanko was supposedly still in Korgum.

Morgunov was of course keenly aware that any of those could change at any time, especially once he revealed himself on the battlefield. And he probably wouldn't get much warning, either.

He was particularly skeptical of any intel he received regarding the current whereabouts of Jackson. After slaying both Gunther and Dunhouser and apparently achieving emergence in the process, that one was obviously the Vanguard's new golden boy.

It therefore struck Morgunov as rather strange that Jackson would be in Melmoore, of all places. Sure, the fighting currently going on there was said to be quite grisly, but none of Abolish's top figures were there, right now.

It seemed much more likely that, instead, Jackson was doing the very same thing that Sermung, Dozer, and Morgunov were doing.

Waiting.

When one of them made the first move, the others would then make theirs.

He might've also included Sai-hee on that list, but frankly, she was always waiting for someone else to make a move. And Morgunov had deliberately left her territory out of this. If she intended to involve herself in the war, then she would have to take action without direct provocation, which she almost never did.

Eheh. It sure would've been neat if she decided to do something, though. He hadn't seen the old bat in well over a hundred years now. He had to wonder how different she was these days, if at all.

And Dozer. That curmudgeon was his own brand of unpredictable. People liked to say that about Morgunov, that no one could ever tell what the Mad Demon would do next, but no one ever mentioned that Dozer was just as bad. Heck, maybe Dozer preferred it that way.

Over the many long years, Morgunov had often wondered with a smile on his face why Dozer bothered to put up with him. Yeah, strength and manpower were the main reasons, of course, but still. Was that really all there was to it? Morgunov enjoyed pressing ol' Wrinkle Brow's buttons more than just about anyone else in the entire world.

Maybe, on some level, Dozer kinda liked it, too.

Hmm, yeah, he should ask him about that the next time they saw each other.

As for this current campaign against Sair, Morgunov had the distinct feeling that he would, as usual, have to be the first one to move. Everyone else was so scared of everything. Dozer, Sermung, Sai-hee.

Cowards, all.

It sure would've been a breath of fresh air if one of the others would actually try to enact some type of meaningful change in the world, try to genuinely tip the centuries-long balance of power that had been established between them.

But no. It was always him. He shouldn't get his hopes up again.

And to think, there had once been a time when he thought himself too meek and introspective to ever do anything with his life. He'd just been another boy who'd learned to be quiet the hard way from a world that didn't want to listen to anything he had to say.

Eheheheheh.

It sure listened to him now, though, didn't it?

"Something funny, boss?" came a familiar voice.

Morgunov popped his head out of the vending machine to see the angular face of Albert Crowe.

The black birds on the man's shoulder followed him around wherever he went, and even Morgunov wasn't quite sure why. There'd once been a joke going around that they did it because they mistook Albert's giant, pointy nose for a beak and therefore thought he was their mother.

That time was long gone, though. Morgunov didn't hear anyone laughing at the Man of Crows like that, anymore.

"Oh, I was just reminiscing to myself." Morgunov wiped his hands and headed over to the rocky chamber's corner table, where an assortment of tools lay. The impromptu workshop that the boys had created for him was lacking in many ways, of course, but he wasn't feeling especially picky, at the moment. He'd made do with worse. "Need something from me?"

Albert was eyeing the vending machine up and down, but he didn't ask about it. "I was just coming to report in, boss. The last of our scouts have been routed from Kuros. Seems the Sandies came up with a way to track the movements of our invisible units, unfortunately."

"Surprised it took 'em this long," said Morgunov. "Know how they did it?"

"Our running theory is some kind of specialized listening technology," said Crowe. "It's difficult to tell for sure. It seems they were able to spot them even in crowded areas, where they should have been impossible to hear."

Morgunov stopped and leveled a stare at the other man.

And Albert Crowe did something he rarely did. He hesitated. "Ah... where they should have been difficult to hear, boss. Is what I meant to say."

Morgunov allowed his gaze to linger a moment more. A part of him was simply curious about how uncomfortable he could make him. But then he relented with a smile and went back to assessing his tools.

"There are any number of ways it could've been done," said Morgunov. "Echolocation. Aerolocation. Stupiditylocation. Etcetera."

"...What is 'aerolocation,' sir?"

"The tracking of air currents within a given space for the purpose of determining the precise shape of said space and any objects therein."

"You can do that, sir?"

"Eheheh."

That almost sounded like a challenge. Now there was a thought. The urge to drop everything and build a device that could do exactly that reared up on him.

Eh, but would that even be useful?

Well, sure, of course it would.

But, eh. It wasn't really necessary. The enemy wasn't employing invisibility like they were.

Yet.

Eheh.

Well, the real trick wouldn't be building it. The real trick would be making it compact enough for easy use. Talk about a pain. He'd need rare materials from all over the world to pull that off. And maybe a few from outside the world. Hmm.

Neat thought, though. Dang.

"That's not an answer, boss," said Crowe.

Morgunov ignored the question. "Is that all you had to report?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, you can go now."

But the Man of Crows' footsteps did not arrive, and Morgunov could sense him lingering.

"...Was there something else?" said Morgunov.

Crowe tilted his head slightly as he looked around the workshop. "I suppose I'm just wondering the same thing that everyone who knows you're here is wondering, boss."

"And what's that?"

"Whether or not you've got some special trick up your sleeve. With regard to our battle plan, specifically."

"Ah. Eheh. Hmm."

Bool, who had thus far only been listening, decided to chime in. 'You can always bet that he has something up his sleeve,' the reaper said. 'What's less certain is whether or not he will actually decide to use it.'

'Hmph,' huffed Learxia, Crowe's reaper. 'Well, I hope he decides sooner rather than later. I'm sure it would save us all a lot of trouble.'

To Morgunov's eyes, the reapers were a pair of old, mangled clocks. Their faces were bent, their hands twisted out of position and pointing the wrong way, and gears and springs were visible brains through cracked open skulls.

"Maybe if you behave yourselves, I'll let you see something truly extraordinary," said Morguonov with a slight laugh.

Eheh. Wasn't often that a reaper other than Bool ever gave him any kind of attitude. And Learxia didn't used to do that. Perhaps she'd grown confident in Crowe's abilities over the years and thought he could protect her from him.

Ooh. A tempting thought. Morgunov decided to keep his back turned to them, just in the off chance that it might motivate them to try something.

'Don't tease them,' said Bool. 'This battle is still in its early stages. The importance of it cannot be overstated. The result of this battle will affect the entire war. Rushing in haphazardly, as fun as that might be for some of us, would hardly be a sound strategy.'

'Hmph. Do you fear Iceheart?'

That made Morgunov chortle. For quite a while, in fact. By the time he settled again, everyone was staring at him. "Only a madman would not fear Iceheart," he said.

And no one responded.

Which made him laugh again. Harder, this time. The more uncomfortable his audience looked, the funnier it became.

There were so many things he could say here, so many demeaning or even infantilizing remarks that popped into his head. It was clear to him that Learxia just wanted him to hold Crowe's hand while they confronted the Vanguardian Field Marshal. To ensure the lad's safety. And hers, of course.

But pointing that fact out might just embarrass the two of them enough to go out and try to prove him wrong, to try to take down Iceheart on their own.

And yeah, that might've been amusing. Hell, imagine if they even pulled it off. The Man of Crows was a strong, growing boy. The possibility was non-zero.

But the risk was needless, all the same. Crowe was one of the two most powerful servants that Morgunov had at his disposal here. Bool would throw a fit if he allowed him to die so stupidly.

Especially when Morgunov was already planning to take to the field soon, anyway.

"I hope you aren't getting too eager for your own good," the Mad Demon said. "You two are supposed to set an example for the young ones, and they've already got eagerness to spare, I'm sure."

Still, no one said anything.

Well, that was fine.

"Anyway, good work so far," said Morgunov. "Keep me apprised of further developments."

"Of course, boss."

And they departed without another word.

Bool lingered, of course. 'Sometimes I forget how skilled you used to be in leadership,' the reaper said privately.

Morgunov smiled as he returned to his vending machine. "Y'know, there was once a time when I thought it was the reaper's job to lead and the servant's to follow."

'Hmph.' Bool's twisted clockface became abruptly even more so. 'What are you trying to say?'

"Eheh, only that the term 'servant' is misleading," said Morgunov.

'Just because you don't do my bidding anymore doesn't mean that most servants are the same way.'

"I am quite exceptional, aren't I?"

'Oh, be quiet.'

"Hey, which of the Primordials do you think would actually make for the best pet, by the way? I've been thinking about it for a while now, and I can't quite decide."

'What does it matter? We both know that you'll go after whichever one you can find first.'

"Eheh. True. But say that we had to choose, for some reason. Who would you pick?"

The reaper sighed. 'Hada.'

"Ooh, the God of Storms and Wrath, huh? Are you just saying that in the hopes that it will make my job harder?"

'...Frankly, yes.'

"Eheheh."

'An avatar of destruction that supposedly hates humanity sounds like a useful "pet" for Abolish to have, wouldn't you say?'

"Hmm. Guess so. There would definitely be plenty of ego there to break down. But I don't know. Hada just doesn't seem like a real mushroom to me. And I'd kinda like one that's a mushroom."

'What? You want a mushroom?'

"Yeah, y'know. A fun-guy."

Bool fell dead silent.

Morgunov had to pop his head out of the vending machine again to check on him. Yeah, he was still floating there alright. He just wasn't saying anything. "That was a joke, Boolie. I want a pet god that's a fun guy. And a fungi. They sound the same."

Still, though, the reaper said nothing.

Yep. Morgunov knew he wouldn't, but that still never stopped him from trying. "One of these days, I'm going to discover that sense of humor of yours. It's gotta be in there somewhere."

'No, it truly doesn't. After half a millennium, you should know that by now.'

"Nah."