As for the guards, they spend more time checking our manacles, only to mutter pleasant surprise when they read their details. I completely understand why, considering their quality.
Enchanted Manacles of Imprisonment (Master Class)
The problem of System-enabled individuals have long been considered and solved with the development of the Manacles of Imprisonment. Each set of manacles is as unique as its crafter, but they all suppress the usage of Skills while worn. Mana flow is inhibited, while Mana regeneration is directed into empowering the manacles themselves.
Effects: Skill Suppression, Spelclass="underline" Powerful Suggestions, Spelclass="underline" Lightning Grasp (Inactive), Spelclass="underline" Sleep (Inactive)
Durability: 2300/2300
Satisfied that we’re well secured as prisoners, we’re passed through the security cordons with minimal fuss. As we journey deeper through the silver-covered hallways, they grow wider and wider as more diplomats and their bodyguards join the main thoroughfare.
Even if the session has already started—for quite a while now—being fashionably late and skipping out on the early morning, unimportant discussions is a time-honored tradition. But now, the Diplomats and Ambassadors are arriving for the afternoon session where actual bills of import are voted upon. And while only a portion of them might be coming in via the underground passages, when you’re looking at a portion of the over ten thousand plus worlds, it’s still a large number.
Of course, the actual Galactic Council isn’t just made up of ten thousand planets. There are a lot more. Between the hegemons, empires, and serf contracts, many planets either have no seat on the Council itself or have permanently handed over their voting rights. Leaving us with this mixture of planets that have their own seats by being independent, stubborn, vassal planets that refuse to give up their presence—even if they vote as directed—and multiple minor and major empires.
All in all, it’s a mess of a government system. Made more of a mess when the vast majority of the bills and other matters that are voted upon are ignored by non-signatories. It’s kind of like the UN, but with a lot less bite if you can imagine that.
Except when the Inner Council acts, of course. That’s when matters escalate, as the entire force of the Council and its bureaucracy take action. And for all its inadequacies, the empowerment of the System ensures that the occasional System-wide pronouncement and bill that do manage to pass can cause true havoc.
Like the creation of a Dungeon World.
As we pass and get side-eyed by the crowd, Harry grows increasingly paranoid and twitchy. Even the ring—a simple Advanced Class enchantment—is being overwhelmed by his growing panic.
I drop back, bumping him with my shoulder as I lower my voice. “Hold it together, old man.”
“We’re being frog-marched to our deaths as prisoners!” Harry hisses back.
“Well, at least there won’t be any more torture,” I say glibly. When humor doesn’t calm the reporter, I murmur, “It’s fine. I’ve got a plan.”
“Really? Does it take into account the fact that he’s going to betray us?” Harry says softly.
I grin at the reporter and he rolls his eyes. I don’t even mind the fact that Yorera looks back at us, his eyes narrowing. My grin is as much a warning for him as it is to assure Harry. That neither side seem reassured does make me a little sad, but it is what it is.
“You see, Harry, the problem is when someone is a devious, backstabbing bastard all the time, it becomes very predictable. Then it’s just a matter of figuring how you’re about to get backstabbed when you deal with them.” I pitch my voice relatively high, letting the guards around us hear me.
The really smart ones, the ones who are tasked with containing us if things go bad, look worried. Some of the guards shoot Yorera concerned glances, searching for a reaction from him. The alien continues to stride along confidently, playing as if he’s not heard a single word I said.
Truth be told, there are two major ways this could go. The first—if he keeps his promise—makes things a lot simpler. The second—if he does betray us—will make things much more complicated.
The first time this might happen is when we enter the main building, when security intensifies once more. Where there were a half dozen semi-bored guards going through the procedures at the other post, here there are over two score, each of them glaring at Diplomats and Ambassadors without a care. There’s even a change in their Classes.
Mook 1 (Loyal Council Guard Level 17) (A)
Mook 2 (Loyal Council Investigator Level 24) (A)
…
…
Mook 33 (Dedicated Council Lieutenant Level 27) (M)
Unsurprisingly, more than a dozen of the guards surround us the moment we make an appearance.
“Halt, Diplomat Yorera.” Mook 33 holds his hands down by his sides and up and sideways, barring the way. He can do that, what with having ten limbs—four legs and six hands, all crystalline outgrowth from his sea-foam-green and pink cystal body. “You have unauthorized prisoners with you. Judgment of Galactic Criminals are on the sixth configuration of the moons. It is only the twenty-third configuration currently.”
I feel Mana twitch as Skills trigger, putting us and the nearby guards under a privacy dome. It’s a powerful one that also blocks most access to the System. At least for us.
“These are special prisoners. The Council will be grateful to see them,” Yorera says. “I am invoking my right as a Diplomat under Treaty Clause 2567-891-53-c(ii).”
Mook 33’s eyes glaze over a little as he accesses the relevant section, before his lips press in disdain. “A once-a-decade option? Unusual.”
“These are unusual times,” Yorera says.
Before Mook 33 can say anything further, a guard—a shivering blob of pink and green slime—glops closer and burbles at the lieutenant. “They are under powerful disguise enchantments.”
The Skills the Slime-Mook uses cut through our physical disguises with ease. I’m not super surprised. They wouldn’t be guards here if they couldn’t do that much.
“Of course they are,” Yorera says, not even missing a beat. “Do you think I want my surprise spoiled?” He glares at the Slime-Mook, his voice lowering. “If not for the privacy screen, I would have your head for your indiscretion!”
“These people, they seem familiar,” Slime-Mook says.
A few of the other guards nod, and the lieutenant’s crystal body trembles. He cocks his head, waiting for one of his subordinates to say something.
Harry’s breathing speeds up, sweat dotting his skin, glistening like diamonds on obsidian sand. Mikito looks around as if she’s entirely unafraid, but I see the way she’s lowered her weight, angled her body ever so slightly. As for me? I just glare at everyone. And hope.
Famous as we might be, the Lady’s Skills are in play. She warps memory, databases, and the eleven senses of sapient creatures. Yes, eleven—because we’re talking about aliens and everything from tremor-sense, sonar, psychic, and aura senses come into play. And while most Skills affect some—but not all—of these senses, this is the Galactic Council’s headquarters. And guards with the full complement of sensing abilities and Skills are in play.
Without her, there’d be no way to sneak in. No way to get past them. Once more, we gamble everything on her Legendary Skill. And come out the winner. Because it is a Legendary Skill. And pointed in one direction, against a single planet? There’s nothing that can be done.
“Restricted,” Slime Mook finally speaks up.
The other guards nod, making the lieutenant’s eyes narrow. He gestures and the group close in on us. Yorera tries to protest, but it doesn’t matter, as the Cystalline Mook Lieutenant drags us all in the privacy bubble to a secure room.
Once we’re within, the Council Mooks move to the corners of the room, keeping an eye on us. Yorera’s guards stay in closer, hands on their weapons, smirking at us. Harry’s literally hyperventilating now, while Mikito is standing utterly still, waiting for her chance. The three musketeers keep themselves next to Harry. Their job is to keep him safe.