by Macronomicon
A strange pressure seemed to collect down the hall, pressing down on Eddie’s body, squishing him even further into the floor.
A moment later, Eddie heard two voices slowly growing in volume.
“The blockade will be every street in a one-mile radius around the Kordos mansion, along with the main thoroughfare. Sentinels will remove anyone or anything outside their homes after two in the afternoon inside that area. By the time of His arrival, the streets will have been clean for hours.”
“I appreciate your attention to detail,” another voice said as the figures came around the corner leading toward the office deeper in the library. “I hope that you can convince your men to share it.”
From the corner of his eye, Eddie spotted a hunched-over Big Bird traipsing smoothly alongside a keegan wringing his hands.
“What you say and what they do are seldom the same—” The bird’s head snapped to look at Eddie. “Oh, look, a human.”
“I’ll have him removed immediately, Your Grace.”
Eddie felt a drop of sweat bead up on the back of his neck.
“No, no, it’s not doing anything wrong. The kowtowing is new, but not unwelcome.”
“Excuse me, human,” the bird-creature said, stopping in front of Eddie. “Why do you bow so deeply for me? Did your owner not teach you proper etiquette?”
“He did not,” Eddie said, raising his head. “But he also told me not to take any chances, so I improvised.”
The bird-creature’s head wobbled strangely, the creature’s face devoid of expression. Finally it threw its head up and honked a laugh.
“Delightful. Keep up the good work.” The creature reached out with taloned claws and tapped Eddie’s shoulder.
“Where were we?” the bird-creature asked as they continued down the hall, ignoring Eddie entirely.
“You should leave now.” One of the melas bodyguards spoke, once the pair were out of earshot.
“I think I will do that,” Eddie said, his limbs weak from the adrenaline leaving his system. He picked up the book and slipped it back into its home before walking quickly back the way he’d come.
Eddie’s panic spiked again when one of the bodyguards stepped out in front of him, blocking his path.
“What’ve you got under there?” the melas asked, peeling open Eddie’s jacket and plucking out the crumpled paper that had been peeking out.
“I bought some paper on the way in to take notes,” Eddie stammered.
“I don’t see any notes.” The guard looked at him suspiciously.
Eddie glanced over his shoulder the direction the two officials had gone and shrugged helplessly. “Next time, I suppose?”
“Fair enough.” The bodyguard handed the paper back, then stepped aside, and Eddie walked out, his legs trembling.
Don’t run, guilty people run, Eddie chanted to himself, maintaining a steady walk as he left City Hall, leaving past the watchful eyes of the men and women watching from the line formed around the carriages.
Eddie didn’t know who the hell had just showed up, but he was glad he was too small a fish for them to be interested in him.
***Brett Courvar***
Brett was screening the fanmail, because a distressing amount of it was of the ‘go kill yourself’ variety, and Amanda didn’t deserve that. He was better at shrugging off the hate than she was. Well, maybe not better. Just more interested.
Brett put his feet up on the steel ottoman, enjoying his post-workout sponge bath from his squadron of cute young admirers. Gotta stay in peak physical condition.
He plucked out the top letter and pried it open.
Traitors to the human race, go fucking kill yourselves, you goddamn sellouts. I got a fifty caliber bullet with your fucking name on it.
Brett flicked it into the distant fire. As if a fifty caliber bullet could do anything to either of them.
Next.
The next letter had messy handwriting on the front, was addressed to Amanda & Brett Courvar, and the return address was ‘Solmnath’.
Messy handwriting and no sender usually meant crazy death threats or rude comments about his wife. He should probably save his eyes the effort and throw it in the fire, but Brett shrugged and took a chance, prying open the letter.
Hey guys, it’s Jebediah Trapper, and boy, have I got an opportunity for you to advance your careers, you greedy sluts!
Brett read down the letter, his eyes widening as he realized it was the real thing.
“Babe!”
“Hnn?” Amanda grunted from where Ricardo and Jacob were giving her a deep tissue massage.
“You need to read this letter.”
Chapter 24: The Calm
***Emperor Pikaku, Uniter of the Continent, Ruler of Mestikos, level 327***
Chains rattled as Pikaku’s father moved his hand, telegraphing his next move.
Pikaku chose discretion, allowing his father’s Waluigi to sprint far ahead. The former emperor had chosen the character because he had the closest resemblance to a kitri’s body shape.
Pikaku had chosen Peach, because her plumage was rather salacious.
“I spanked you once, I’ll spank you again,” the withered kitri muttered, the flame of undeath flickering behind his eyes as he honked softly in amusement.
“Blue shell.”
“Nooo!”
Pikaku’s neck wobbled in amusement as the shell hit his father’s character from above, allowing him to gain the lead and the win.
“The game is mine, father. You have no choice but to accept it.”
“Accept this!” The former emperor threw the plastic controller at him, the chains rattling around his wrist.
Pikaku dodged it easily enough, catching the precious commodity on the way past. They weren’t making any more of these, after all.
Pikaku checked the time. “Mother guide me, it’s time to go already?”
“It’s been four hours?” his father demanded, glancing at the ‘Nintendo’ gifted him by his new human aristocrats. “These humans are masters of masturbatory time-wasting, aren’t they?”
“I hear they had an entire city dedicated to it.”
“If I was a thousand years younger,” his father said, clutching a boney fist.
“You’d straighten them out?”
“I’d indulge in every vice they’d invented.”
“You’ve grown more honest in death,” Pikaku said.
“And whose fault is that, eh?” his father said, motioning to the glowing manacles and collar around his wrists and neck, preventing him from escaping and wreaking havoc on the world above. There were truth enchantments in there, too.
“All joking aside, these ‘nuclear bombs’ my new aristocrats warn me of paint a horrifying picture, and with the Stitching, they are not all accounted for. I fear rebel groups of humans may try to use them to shatter the empire and carve their own territory. I wonder if I truly have the luxury of attending a party at a backwater like Solmnath.”
“Your job is to appear normal,” his father said. “Remember, you lead their minds as well as their hearts. If you express concern over these ‘nuclear bombs’, it will signal to many, many humans that you are afraid of them, and possibly spawn more of these factions who seek to leverage them against you.”
His father honked. “But seriously, how bad could they be?”
“Twenty miles wide.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You believe that’s impossible. Let me tell you something. Every human I spoke to, from my aristocrats, to beggars taken off the street without warning, was absolutely sure they existed.”
His father grunted. “When everyone else believes a thing, sometimes you must ask yourself if you’re the ignorant one. These weapons seem like the sort of thing you might want to send some of your more trustworthy enforcers after in secret. The Tekalis family comes to mind.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Pikaku said, nodding. Vresh Tekalis had been stripped of her title for refusing to answer
him about to whom she’d given her Mark, but that made her more trustworthy, all things considered. She had given her word not to reveal who she’d chosen, and she would rather be punished by the emperor than break it. He would need to send some of his human enforcers after these weapons as well, because they were some of the only ones who would take the threat seriously.
“If you already knew what to do, what do you need me for, then?”
“I find it helpful to sound ideas off of you.”
“Bah.” The undead kitri grunted, waving him off. “An emperor makes his own decisions.”
Pikaku set the controller down within reach of his father, then headed for the marble arch leading to the long stairs out of the crypt.
“Before you go,” his father called after him.
“Oh?” Pikaku asked, turning.
“I don’t suppose you’d send someone down here for me to eat? I am absolutely starving. A fat little human child, perhaps? If those humans on the broadcasts are anything to go by, they’re the most succulent thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“No, father.”
“Damn you to the mangled space of the Roil! I want to eat!”
The former emperor’s curses devolved into howls a living being couldn’t hope to match.
Pikaku wanted to rub the aching corners of his beak, but he was being watched by his guard, so he straightened his spine and marched out into the sunlight while they closed the heavy stone doors of the crypt, sealing his father back in his grave.
“Four hours of lucidity, as promised,” the priestess said, bowing low.
“The emperor appreciates your assistance in this matter,” he said, nodding. “When will you be ready to calm him again?”
She winced. “Two weeks, my lord. He is very strong.”
“Do not harm your Core in haste. The emperor is patient.” Pikaku nodded, then prowled away, every inch the proud emperor. Nobody knew he’d spent all but the last few minutes playing human games with his father, rather than discussing important matters of state.
And if they did know, they kept their mouths shut.
As he walked, his secretary hustled up beside him, clutching a messy stack of papers to her chest.
“Emperor, King Jose of the Fiery Mountains wants a meeting to discuss the taxation of the villages damaged by flash-fires, and Gurand of Lee seeks your approval for the dispensation of funds to their dam.”
“I’ll Summon them personally.”
“There’s been damage in the imperial academy. Two children defaced a statue of your grandfather during a Myst battle.”
Pikaku grunted and waved it off. “Five lashes, and have them fix it.” He didn’t really care, but the institution cared—or at least, needed to be perceived as caring.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You’ve also got a slurry of letters,” she said, the smaller female half-jogging to keep up with his ground-eating pace.
“Oh, and the Courvars had some input about your visit to Solmnath. They said you might be interested.”
Pikaku nodded silently, marching to his throne that sat in the great hall of his grandfather, created by the greatest artisans of the age. He felt the weight of authority settle around his shoulders with every step he took up the short staircase that held the throne above all others.
Finally he settled down, and leaned back in the throne. He reached inside and tugged on the gnarled web of Venaxus, pulling a single strand out of his Core and giving it a voice. It only took a little bit of Myst, since they were already in the city.
“Amanda and Brett Courvar.”
The side door to the throne hall creaked open.
“You’re sure we’re not lost?” Brett asked his wife as the hairless apes stumbled into the throne room.
“I don’t know. We must’ve gotten turned around some—” Amanda put a hand on her husband’s shoulder, staring at the emperor.
Swiftly, Pikaku’s new aristocrats dropped into perfect bows. They’d been practicing their etiquette.
“You may rise,” Pikaku said, waving his hand gently, calculating every move to be as neutral as possible.
“We’re sorry for, umm, wandering into your throne room,” Brett said with a frown, craning his neck behind him, studying their path in disbelief.
“It is I who should apologize for your confusion. I Summoned you, and you came. If you find yourself before me, it is very likely that I wish to speak to you,” Pikaku said. “Remember that.”
Pikaku’s Myst Ability was to tug on Venaxus’s web and alter fate so that those who he named wound up in front of him. It was a power suited for an emperor. None could hide from him or his justice. The only limiting factor was the amount of coincidence that was required to bring a person to him, and his own familiarity with the subject.
“You’ve been doing good work for the empire, adapting humans to their new circumstances, and for that, I am grateful. You said you had something to say about my visit to Solmnath?” Pikaku asked.
“Yes, um…” Amanda tugged a letter out of her pocket. “Can I just…give this to you?”
Pikaku allowed himself a small head-waggle, and crooked a finger, motioning her to come forward.
The sickly-looking human half-jogged up to the throne and placed the letter in his hand before backing off.
“Interesting,” Pikaku muttered, scanning the letter. “Is this the same Jebediah Trapper who led you through the Impossible Tutorial?”
The two humans nodded. “We think so.”
“Well, my friends, you may be receiving land to accompany your titles sooner than I expected. The optics of this would work best if my humans were to execute punishment for this malfeasance on my behalf.”
Pikaku leaned forward in his throne, looking down at the featherless creatures. “Tell me, are you willing to kill in cold blood for the empire?”
The two humans were silent, the man deferring to his wife.
“The idea makes me want to throw up… But, if these people did what it says in the letter, then yes.” She swallowed loudly. “Yes, we’ll kill them.”
But just in case, let’s bring one human we know will follow through, Pikaku thought, leaning back in the throne and tapping his claws against the armrest. Generations of emperors had worn a groove in the gold.
“Excellent. Stay here until I am done so that we may discuss travel plans.”
“Yes, my lord,” the two said, bowing.
Pikaku reached into his Core and drew out a fine thread.
“Gurand of Lee.”
“I tell you it can’t wait any longer!” the large Brovis man shouted, shaking Pikaku’s frazzled secretary off of his leg as he stormed into the throne room at that very moment.
Amanda and Brett glanced back and forth between Pikaku and Gurand with the strange human expression of confusion that wrinkled up their eyebrows and tugged at their lips.
Heedless of the humans, the northern barbarian marched up to the throne, stopping just shy of the stairs, causing the imperial guards stationed along the hall to finger their weapons.
The man was no threat to Pikaku, but it was the principle of the thing.
“Listen ‘ere!” Gurand said, pointing at Pikaku. “We joined the empire with the expectation that we would be taken care of! And all we’ve gotten is letters asking for gold we ain’t got! Now we need that dam for our home to prosper. How else are you planning on getting your taxes?”
Pikaku once again suppressed the urge to rub the muscles at the corner of his beak. This was going to be a long day of chasing his own tail. He had to maneuver the chieftain of the tribe to give his word the cost of the dam would be paid back, and the tribesmen had a curious notion of debt.
***Jebediah Trapper***
Jeb watched Eddie walk out the front of City Hall, sweating so profusely that Jeb could see it from his third-story vantage point.
Several other carriages parked outside the circle of uniforms, waiting for their turn to enter City Hall. They were, for the mo
st part, richly dressed keegan.
Shit.
Without his drone next to him, Eddie had no way of communicating with Jeb, and he didn’t want to send the old man back into the wolves’ den.
Jeb picked up the receiver and told Legolas to follow if someone took the book, then he packed up the dish and battery, putting them in their duffle bags and heading out.
The two of them met up at the orphanage. Eddie must have run halfway back, because he arrived first, waiting for Jeb while breathing heavily and glaring.
“Never ask me to do that again,” he said, resting his palms on his knees.
“I have no idea what that was about. I’m sorry.”
“I think it was a parade or something. They were talking about clearing the streets for ‘his’ arrival.”
“Someone important?”
“Sounded like it.” Eddie nodded, before glancing around. “Where’s Legolas?”
“I told him to follow whoever took the book. Maybe we can still get our hands on it.”
“Mother—” Eddie scowled at him, reaching into his vest. “Gotta give me more credit than that.” The old man pulled out several blank sheets of paper.
“That’s…nice?”
“The list is on here, and we’re going to have to call Legolas back; he’s got a long run time, but it’s not semi-permanent like Buddy.”
“You didn’t use the engine?” Jeb asked.
“Why would you put a pair of two-stroke motors on a stealth craft?” Eddie asked, raising a brow. “No, I’ve been experimenting with lithium ion batteries. I used a silicon anode, upping the energy density drastically, but I haven’t got the tech to fix the growing SEI layer problem, so I just use my Myst to clean it out on Sundays, and that seems to work fine. One day, though, I’ll crack it.”
Jeb frowned. “You know there’s shrinking magic, right?” Jeb said, thinking back to the collectible he’d cannibalized to escape the Tutorial.
“Holy hell, why didn’t you tell me!?”
“‘Cuz we don’t have any on hand and I didn’t think of it.”
“How much shrinking!?” Eddie demanded.
“Football to pen-sized,” Jeb said, motioning.
