Chapter 93 – The Red Cross

[Capital City of Raven’s Call – Temple District]

[Maximillian Barbary]

Maximillian sunk into his cushioned throne of red velvet, absentmindedly twirling the slightly luminescent vial in his hand. He gave the elixir an inspection.

Blood of the Divine Saintess

Type: Elixir

Tier: Rare

Description:

Greatly amplifies all restorative abilities.

Prophecy foretold of a great demonic threat that only the Saintess herself could stop. Thanks to the protection of the Divine and the noble sacrifice of the seven heroes, the prophecy never came to pass. Should great evil ever return; receive her blessing and take up arms against the darkness, knowing the Saintess will protect you.

He sighed heavily as he looked at the vial. It was a fine enough elixir, but he had been hoping for so much more when his subordinates desecrated the saintess's tomb. All he got was bones and this single elixir. No magic items or riches to be found. He thought these holy figures were supposed to be buried with their obscene wealth, but apparently, he had been wrong. At least her bones had radiated power, and he had several of his people assure him they could fashion powerful healing artifacts out of them. That would have to do. The items would almost certainly fetch a hefty price tag when complete.

Maximillian glanced out across the ornate temple. Enormous columns ran its length, their sheer size dwarfing most adventurers. He had long since had the pews removed and turned the sanctuary into more of an open market where his people could negotiate services rendered. The polished marble floors glimmered with the colorful light that spilled in through the surrounding stained glass windows. Each window was unique with a depiction of one of the seven heroes, the Divine Saintess being the most prominent and filling the room with a golden warmth. Maximillian thought that made sense, seeing as this was her temple after all.

Well, not her temple anymore, he mused. After a slightly hostile takeover, it now belonged to him.

When humanity had been dumped in this God forsaken place, this temple had served as a gathering place to train all those who had become healers. Filled with scrolls, tomes, and Tower assigned teachers, it quickly grew from a simple training ground into a hub where any adventurer could come and recruit a healer for their party. At some point, a starry eyed adventurer had even started a Red Cross organization mimicking the non-profit from Earth. Noble humanitarians who wanted to ensure no adventuring party was without a healer.

When Maximillian arrived at the Temple, all he saw was opportunity.

In his former life, Maximillian had been a mid-level Sr. Vice President for Smith & Smith Pharmaceutical Solutions, one of the largest pharmaceutical distributors in North America. In business and in life, he was ruthless. He had spent two decades climbing the ranks of corporate america to reach his position of power and had accrued a wealthy and lavish lifestyle. That was until everything was upended and humanity was reverted to the dark ages.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t even gifted a power that matched his ambition or killer instincts. He was a healer. Weak and useless in battle, until he realized that his skills and his powers were in high demand. When he tried to negotiate premium rates he was laughed at. There were always healers ready and available at the Temple. Why would they pay him any more than what they felt he was worth, which was very little. Jacked up warriors and soldier wannabes ruled the negotiations with brute force, but Maximillion had a plan.

After several targeted contract killings through a seedy band of toughs calling themselves the Rough House, Maximillan quickly found himself at the head of the healers' temple. Not that there was anyone really in charge, but there had been obstacles for sure. Those who didn’t believe in his personal brand of healing services. Gone were the days of helping those simply in need. Healers had a service that adventurers desperately needed and there was money to be made. A lot of it.

With just a few short and impassioned speeches he had the healers striking, refusing service to the adventuring parties. For his strategy to work he had to make sure the adventurers knew just what it was they were taking for granted. Healers deserved so much more after all. HE deserved so much more. Healers were solely responsible for keeping the entire party alive with their magic, yet these adventurers felt they deserved as little as one fifth of the loot – if even that.

It took surprisingly little convincing to send the healers on strike. The way they were often treated by others had them primed to fight back and what better way to fight than with a good ol’ fashion lock out. The adventurers needed them. Of course, parties tried to get by with just potions, and business was slow in the beginning, but they all came crawling back when there was a dungeon to be conquered or an elite monster that needed slaying. He had all the power. He controlled the negotiations. And he became filthy rich.

Maximillian couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped his mouth. It had been so easy. Just like that, he had brought modern, capitalistic healthcare to the Tower and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. In fact, they begged for it. Just like that, his healers were earning as much as fifty percent of the loot, and that was after the “Temple” took its cut. When word got out how much money that could be made, healers flocked to the temple to join the new Red Cross. Maximillian would ensure every healer got their worth as long as he got his first.

Who needed morals when there was money to be made?

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He couldn’t get them all, of course. There were healers that insisted on clinging to the old ways and preaching comradery among their fellow adventurers. They were idiots who more often than not ended up dead from some dungeon or another.

In addition, there were often those parties who would simply refuse to pay for services rendered. How would the Healers stop them? They didn’t have any real attack skills. That’s where Maximillians backchannel relationship with the Rough House came in. They were the Temple’s collection agency. Debt collectors with unconventional strategies in recouping losses. Maximilian grimaced at the thought of them. Horrid maniacs each and every one of them - but he couldn’t deny their effectiveness. They always ensured he got his money and word quickly got around that you don’t want to default on your payment to the Red Cross.

Eventually war came to the doors of the kingdom. Maximillian had never been happier since coming to the Tower. There was always money to be made during war, and his healers were the hottest of commodities. Bidding had been intense, and there were several times where he feared for his safety with that cursed Sarah threatening to sick her pet dragon on him. But he held strong and had come out victorious, and rich. Very rich. He took the Crowen kingdom for everything they were worth and set himself up to have a long, extravagant life. The healers too of course, but not nearly as much as him.

His smile was cruel and full of greed at the memory.

Now, though, he was bored. The war had gone on longer than he had expected and the Crowen King was not eager to renegotiate their contract. His temple was empty, and the money was no longer flowing in. He needed this war to be over so he could get back to the profitable business of emptying adventurers pockets of gold. There was more money to be made, after all, and if there was one thing he wanted, it was more.

He let out a long sigh and sank even deeper into his throne that sat on a stage above everyone else in the sanctuary, watching as the clerical workers moved throughout the temple on their little tasks. Even in the Tower, paperwork and administration were constants.

“President Barbary, sir, I bring reports from the frontlines,” came the voice of an approaching attendant, bowing before him.

“Speak,” he commanded. Finally, something interesting.

“Clearglen has been lost and the U.F.E. has turned their sights on the capital. They are marching on us as I speak.”

“What!?” Maximilian roared, bouncing out of his seat and staring down at the attendant who shied away from him. “Explain. Now.”

“It’s just as I said sir, umm… Mr. President-” the attendant stuttered.

“Tell me how they lost you fool.” Maximillian snapped. “I know Dragon’s Hope didn’t take part in the battle. No one has seen their elites for days. Was it a surprise attack? Some sort of trap?”

“No, sir… It was the Lilux empire. Apparently, they’ve chosen a side and have joined the war effort working with the U.F.E.”

“What?” Maximillian screamed. “That pacifist trash of a kingdom took up arms against us? Are they truly so foolish? Do they forget we have portals leading straight to their hearts and can have an army inside their gates in moments?”

“Sir, I do not-“

“What are the numbers? How many healers have I lost?”

“Twenty-three… All believed to have defected and joined with the U.F.E.”

Maximillian plopped down onto his throne, his face contorted in rage. This had been his one problem that he had no solution for. Healers always had an out. Should the battle go south for the Crowen forces, his healers would simply surrender, and the U.F.E. would welcome them with open arms. They weren’t villains, merely opportunists. They hadn’t killed or hurt anyone, quite the opposite in fact. Who couldn’t use another healer after all? The king had made several veiled threats that if his healers didn’t quit defecting, then he would be the ones to pay for their crimes against the kingdom.

“What does the King say about this?”

“He’s recalled all troops to defend the walls. Our healers will be home shortly. He’s advised everyone to prepare for a prolonged defense against a siege from the U.F.E.”

“And the Dragon? I can hardly imagine there have been no reports of his activity. Certainly, he is somewhere, planning something.”

“He’s not been seen, Mr. President sir-“

The front gates of the temple slammed open, and everyone stopped to turn and see who was entering. Maximillian grimaced at the new arrival.

Rodeo.

“What are you doing here?” He growled, taking a sip from the vial of the goddess’ blood and casting [Mind Ward] on himself.

“Heard you were looking for Gideon.” Rodeo said in his low, gravelly voice, a smile hanging off his face. Maximillian hated the man and his smug, arrogant face. He had the ear of the king simply because he was good at butchering everyone. Even the word made his skin crawl. It was complete nonsense.

“Tell me,” Maximillian said, recollecting himself as he sat up straight in his throne, “did you wait outside the temple for someone to mention Gideon just so you could make a dramatic entrance?”

“Something like that.” Rodeo chuckled, stepping before him.

“So? Where is he then?”

“At the Rough house.”

“You’ve captured him!?”

“Not quite. The Rough House has fallen. Gideon and his soldiers launched a surprise attack against it several hours ago.” Rodeo said like it was yesterday’s news, completely nonplussed.

“WHAT?” Maximillian said, jumping out of his throne, “Is he here? Are we safe?”

“Doubt it.” Rodeo said, barking out a laugh.

“Are you insane? How can you joke around? I’ve seen what the Dragon can do. Have you?”

“I just told you he assaulted and destroyed the Rough House,” Rodeo said, a flat look on his face.

“So why are you here, exactly?”

“Because I know what his next move will be, and I need your help with… facilitating.” Rodeo said.

“Really? Do tell.” Maximillian asked, suddenly interested. Ever the businessman, he knew Rodeo wouldn’t ever pay him any money, but it would be to his benefit to have a maniac like Rodeo owe him a favor.

“Well. As far as I see it, we’ve got an extended siege on our horizon. If I was Gideon, I’d try to cut that short.”

“And how would he do that?”

“By assassinating the king.”

“Hah. Are they mad? I can’t imagine this is the first time the king has dealt with assassination attempts. There must be precautions against it. Plus, we’ll have the entirety of the Crowen forces here at our defense, everyone we’ll be on extremely high alert. An assassination would be… impossible.” Maximillian said. He was starting to regret even entertaining Rodeo at all.

“I agree.” Rodeo nodded. “Unfortunately, the impossibility of it is why I think it’s going to happen.”

“Gideon isn’t foolish enough to attempt it. He has to know we would be prepared for such an attempt. Why are you so worried about this? Who would be stupid enough to try an assassination?”

Rodeo stood silent for a long moment, an almost wistful look on his face.

“My protégé.” He grinned.

Maximillian stared at Rodeo for a long moment in confusion.

“And what exactly are your plans to stop it?” he finally asked.

“Stop it?” Rodeo chuckled. “I want to help him.”