The little gnome ducked under the counter with my orders. There was some muffled squeaking, a series of bangs, thumps and whooshes, then she popped up again, looking adorably mussed. Or maybe she had been very carefully mussed to look adorable. The complicated glasses were tilted at an angle, her hair was pushed askew, the leather jacket hung on one shoulder, and I would swear someone had painted on dirt. It looked like cosmetics, not like she had been working.

I hate this game. How dare they besmirch the tropes I love so dearly! It was such a classic look. Worse, though, was the way it poked at a kind of double uncanny valley. The gnome looked alive until you realized it was barely responsive, then it did stuff like this.

Someone programmed this. Someone scripted this whole sequence. An actual person used what once had been an actual person to do fake things to recreate something that wouldn’t actually happen, but could pass as appealingly ‘human.’ A little happy burst of factory made moe.

“Installation will be done by our Gnarswaorps! Thank you very much for your patronage! Would you like to purchase anything else?”

“Installation will be done by your what now?”

She stared at me, her smile fixed in place.

I got my explanation when I saw a series of boxes being carried out from behind the counter through a hitherto invisible door. They were being carried by little robots, each with a key in the back that slowly spun as the machine moved. I could hear them chanting as they moved.

“Eeep. NEE. Eeep. NEE. Eeep. NEE”

Might be a mechanical noise. Might be the souls of goblins shoved into mechanical shells to labor endlessly for their sadistic Gnome overlords. I remember hearing some things about Gnomes. Nothing good. Maybe there was a reason this shopkeeper was particularly lobotomized. Justice, perhaps. Or developer spite. Or both.

The little damned souls of innocent goblins (or, possibly, robots) unpacked the boxes with surprising speed. Their little limbs telescoped out, stretching out to impossible lengths. It was like watching Doc Ock’s arms working without the Doc. I vaguely recall the arms being evil and turning Doc evil, but that never made sense to me. Surely the arms could be no more evil than their creator, right?

Godspeed, you damned goblin souls. Even this insane Hell won’t last forever. Someday soon you will rise up and slaughter your gnomish oppressors. Keep the faith, and keep fighting. Keep being an inspiration for us all. All us NPC’s.

The Sky Realm Management Interface was the first thing they installed. It was a floating pane of obsidian, gold filigree and exquisite carvings on the wooden frame. You could tell it was a fancy model, as I can’t imagine anything twelve feet tall and eight feet wide as ‘basic.’ It was set up on one side of the Throne Room, but I watched the little robots push it around with just a touch. I guess I could put it where I liked. Observe my domain while lounging on my throne, maybe.

Not going to dwell on the fact that it wasn’t reflecting anything in this room. I couldn’t even see a blurry outline of myself. Which was weird. I can look down and see my body. I know I have this stupid Robin Hood hat. So why can’t I see my face? Why are there no mirrors here? Or in Gradden March? I should be able to see my face! I have a face! Why can’t I see my face?! What happened to my face?!!

A cool rush flooded my brain, and I shivered all over. Weird how you get sidetracked and spirling about nonsense. Shows a lack of focus. Maybe I needed some alone time in the Tower Master’s Quarters. I’d only been there one time, who knows what else that place was good for? I looked more closely at the mirr- the interface. There was a little floating rock in an empty blue sky displayed, looking very lonely in that huge expanse of glass. And if I really squinted… There was maybe something on the rock?

“How do I control this thing?” I asked. Rhetorically, I wasn’t really expecting an answer. Nor did I get one. The map in the Map Room was a complete pain in the neck to figure out too.

In a fit of blind optimism I spread my thumb and forefinger apart like I was zooming in on my phone. It worked. The smudge on the rock turned into a medieval city. I noticed, approvingly, that it was perfectly circular, like any good anime fantasy city. Something about that Borg-Sample look just seemed so right. Unlike the fact my finger spreading motion actually worked.

I had to sit down for a moment, letting the plush foam of my diabolical throne soothe me. Intuitive design? No bizarre controls or obscure symbolism? Someone must be holding the Dev’s kids for ransom. Or their favorite blood servitor or however they work, I’m not a programmer. I don’t even have the right socks.

I stared at the thing, discarding obvious red herrings like “The map has intuitive controls too, you just are too dumb to understand them,” and “The controls are intentionally unintuitive and mysterious to their creators, as a way to add immersion.” Which, given how twisted they were, had a shred of plausibility to it. I, however, did finally reach the all too banal truth in the end.

It was a later addition to the game. The crappy map in the Map Room got the big fancy graphics and what the devs thought were useful, intuitive controls in Ver. 1.0. Then, after a few years of operation, when they brought in the Sky Realm mechanic, they didn’t have the budget for art and someone had finally persuaded them to rip off controls that people already understood from their phones.

I can believe in multidimensional necromancers. I can believe in soul bound warriors battling for eternity in a mobile gacha game. I can even believe that Maria-Chan really misses my visits to the Maid Cafe. But I flat out refuse to believe the forces of capitalism no longer apply. I’d sooner disbelieve gravity.

No points for guessing the cored out bit of the city was The Floating Quarter of Gradden March. More than just the one burned out street, it looked like I got the whole neighborhood. Then I gently slapped my forehead, because I am absolutely certain the ‘whole neighborhood’ was not a geometrically perfect circle. Either some bits were left out, or some extras were included.

I fiddled with the zoom. “Floating Quarter” popped up when I zoomed out just the right amount. Likewise, when I zoomed in, I could see the labels on buildings.

Slum Housing Level 2. Occupation: 15/15. -15 Maximum Health of Occupants, -20 Public Order, -20 Production.

A lot to unpack there. Looks like there were a whole bunch of systems at work, and I didn’t understand any of them. I couldn’t help but notice there was nothing about what the house actually produced. Did it generate taxes for me? Or did every worker require shelter, so the housing acted as a cap on total production that way? Also, if I was getting hit by negative fifteen and twenty penalties to things… out of what? How big was that pool?

Slum housing. Never lived in that, but Hell, I grew up in New York. It’s a couple stops on the subway between luxury high rises and the projects that gave rise to rap. And it’s whatever, but I don’t want to be a slumlord. If for no other reason than refusing to tolerate such an outrageous stack of negative modifiers. This SSR-Tier Weeb is the TOWER LORD!

Everyone should have their Hentai Mountain. Everyone. Each home should have their Doushin Valleys and Shrine of Soothing Toys. A doorman is a skippable luxury, so’s a bathtub and soap’s a scam, but everyone should have a quiet place to hide from the world. And those houses didn’t look quiet.

I’d need better houses. And given that I have pretty limited land to work with, I’d be building up, not out. At least, I don’t know if I can expand beyond the bounds of that circle, and what if I clear more relic sites? Will we fill up that little floating island? Then what?

If I want to build apartment buildings, that means I need concrete and steel and architects that actually know how to build that stuff, ‘cause I sure don’t. That means resources and people. And how do we get those?

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He asked, reclining in his throne, toying with his scepter and wondering which of his murderous summons to call to attend him.

Yeah, we get that the old fashioned way. Build up my forces, in both numbers, equipment, experience, ratings, whatever. Build up my defenses. Form a virtuous cycle with clearing relic sites. I cleared the Floating Quarter in what was essentially the most careful way possible- one time unit expended per day, retreating to digest my gains after each expedition.

It worked, but the attacks on the Tower were getting stronger. We already had murder baboons in the mix, and we saw new unit types during the siege defense at Gradden March. The wall-breakers would likely smash straight through my dirt walls, not stopping until they hit the concrete reinforced stuff. Just… going to ignore the titans, because I don’t have a wall remotely big enough to deal with any of them.

So the very conservative approach wouldn’t keep working. I also needed to be scouting WAY more aggressively. So far, we hadn’t found much in the way of resources. We found one merchant and one relic site. Not good enough. Not remotely good enough. Rache needed to get her rear in gear and start clearing the map.

Then there was the resource management side of things. In that I now had resources to manage. Just looking at that stat block for the slum housing was giving me a headache. Was it possible to delegate this stuff? But I needed to understand it before I could even begin to dream of delegation. How, exactly, did my little fief work?

Sounds like something an advisor could, and should, explain. The little Gnome-Oppressed-Servitors set up a side table next to my throne, and with immense ceremony, put a little bell on it. One of those little bells with the wooden handle on top. In this case a silver bell with a beautifully polished rosewood handle.

It was reddish colored, anyway. Cherry? I decided it was rosewood. That was a fancy sounding wood, and this was a throne room. Fancy was important. The bell was engraved with beautiful people attending court, speaking with someone clearly intended to be a king.

I couldn’t help but notice the people in the pictures had high cheekbones and distinctly pointy ears. Not Firen pointy, but…

Well, if I already had a gnome shopkeeper and some kind of metallic tree stump running my armory, elves weren’t the craziest thing. Elves were also notably fancy. Most of the time.

I had a sudden, mad, moment of hope. How cool would it be if a tool tip would pop up when I touched the bell? “Oh, what’s this? Good heavens, a small window with a clear, concise description and use guide has appeared as soon as I touched it! Amazing. I think this will happen every time I touch something weird from now on.”

I gently touched the bell. Nothing happened. It was a little cool to the touch, smooth and much heavier than it looked. I’d have to play around with it. All that was left was for the little gubbins to do the throne room upgrades. Alethai seemed to have a real flair for the fancy, the gilt and the grand. I was cautiously optimistic.

An optimism that was, for once, rewarded. They definitely had prior Throne Room design experience. The walls were finished in white plaster, then painted a particularly elegant shade of blue. Like some granny’s precious Wedgewood vase. That blue. I don’t know what you call that color, but it reeked respectability. And, I hoped, authority. Which did lead me to wonder who I needed to impress with a fancy Throne Room.

There were frescoes painted on the ceiling. Mostly of trees I didn’t recognize, though the circle of angels holding hands directly above my throne were a particularly tasteful touch. Elf angels, admittedly, but that’s fine. Sometimes, you just need the special angels. Especially if you have special problems. Like, and I couldn’t get away from this idea, who did I need to impress with my Throne Room? Fingers powerfully crossed that it was purely cosmetic.

I glanced over at the windows. Massive improvements. Why, two of them even had door handles!

They even had door handles.

Oh. Oh no.

I slowly walked over to one and, with a shaking hand, jerked it open. There was a large balcony with a thick stone railing around it. The view out over the fortifications was wonderful. Really, really top notch.

I had a throne. A scepter. Troops. And now a balcony. I would have to give speeches in the future, wouldn’t I? The anticipatory embarrassment and failure made me want to dig a hole and hide in it until the heat death of the universe dissolved my shame. I tried to make a speech after we killed the Alpha monster. Never again. I slowly retreated back into the throne room, and did my best to ignore the balconies.

The whole thing had a very refined feeling. Very put together. I felt like the scene was missing some enormous Renaissance era paintings to hang on the wall. Carvaggio has to be public domain by now, right? So the designers could steal make an homage to his stuff that I could hang on the walls.

Funny- I have an incredibly granular appreciation of the art and history in anime, but I can’t tell you what the redecorated room most resembled. All I know was that I was getting strong Le Chevalier D’Eon vibes. That series may have expanded my horizons in some… unusual directions. But I think we can all quickly move past that point, not dwell on it, and appreciate just how incredibly nice and not weird my new Throne Room redecoration is.

Any bonuses for the redecoration? I looked around for something to clue me in. Nothing. Again. There hadn’t been anything at any point before either, but hope springs eternal. Like, maybe I could get a portrait of myself to hang on the wall. Kings did that, so why not Tower Masters. Then I could see my face and find out what they did why can’t I see my-

Ah, I really am under a lot of stress, aren’t I. Mmm. That cooling sensation. I can see why Versai enjoys it so much. I walked over to the doorway to just drink in the whole room remodel. It was all very elegant. Which I liked, don’t get me wrong. It really did something for me, looking at all that and knowing that it was mine. That I had earned it, leading my summons to a decisive victory. Quite literally reversing what had been a crushing defeat. Not even a defeat. I re-wrote the history of a genocide.

And plopped in the middle of it like a porta-potty in the middle of a Tiffany’s as my throne. My “Technically it only kind of looks like a Lay-Z-Boy recliner, notice the lack of a lever on the side,” canary yellow microfiber covered throne.

The contrast was striking. I certainly felt like I had been struck. I had my scepter. I had a bell for summoning my minions. I had a magic mirror to supervise my domain from. I apparently had a council. Tower Master was, apparently, a short step from King. And since I needed to expand aggressively, there would be a price to pay. Not by me, at least in the short term.

It… would be very hard to keep all my summons alive. Moving faster, fighting more, meant more risks. It meant I could prepare less and be less hands on with everything. Some of my summons could think and act independently. Most couldn’t. I had to micromanage, or I would quickly have no one to manage. I had promised to bring them all home with me. I hate the idea of leaving them here, summoned endlessly from the void to stand and fight against the monsters. Their stories always ending the same damn way.

I dithered, then sat on the throne once more. I needed advice, so it was time to test out the bell. Who it would summon was still an open question. Sebastian said he was running the Floating Quarter on my behalf, so he would be a logical choice. He wasn’t the only person in Gradden March with a functional brain, though.

I picked it up. It was heavier than it looked, but still light enough to lift with two fingers and my thumb. I gave it a little ring. The vibrations seemed to echo on and on and on, far longer than they ought to have. It was quite mystical. Which seemed fitting if the makers really were elves. I reclined a little, just enjoying the moment.

I can only assume that is why the Devs extended their vibe-killing streak by having a screen pop up in front of me with a little ‘bloop!’ noise. Gold edged, with a pale blue background and white font. Felt like I was straight back into an old school JRPG.

CONGRATULATIONS! The first piece of the Sky Realm has been set. The path towards the Golden Dawn opens, and your dominion will be known by all!

To expand your Sky Realm, acquire Realm Fragments by conquering Relic Sites, completing Legendary quests at 100% completion rating or higher, or through trade. There may be hidden merchants who can tell you more.

Wait. Wait just a damn second. NOW you are giving me tool tips?

To ensure that your glorious rule is smooth, you may appoint a Counsel to assist in running the Realm. Each Counselor must be assigned a Role to be on the Counsel. You may change who performs which Role at any time. Counselors must be Six Stars or equivalent. Have fun and see how well your subjects perform in different Roles!

The number of Councilors and Roles available is determined by the average level of your Throne Room and Council Summoning Bell. Your (RARE) grade Throne Room and (RARE) grade Summoning Bell allow you to have (4) Councilors and the following roles:

Seneschal:

Development:

Economy:

War:

Next to each role was an empty box. Floating off to the side of the screen was a short array of pictures.

Three things immediately occurred to me- I don’t see word one on how these guys are getting paid and, two, these sound like powerful jobs, and three, my current options for counselors were a former madame, the man who puts the ‘Organized’ in Organized Crime in Gradden March, The Queen’s personal thug, a merchant who was considered subhuman by career criminals, and Jim, who believed in violence considerably more than he believed in the fabric of reality.

I looked back over at the gnome.

“You know what? I can tolerate graft. Let’s get to it.”