Not even the Inner Council.
Of course, that he’s actually the puppet of the Weaver is a not-so-hidden secret. One that the powers that be—people like the Erethrans and, thus, me—know and the smaller players don’t. It’s why no one in the Inner Council objects when he runs roughshod over their own powerplays. So long as they play within the stated rules, they know he won’t interfere.
In a corner of my mind, I watch it all, absently noting that every single one of my Hands have now expired. I make sure to call them up, now that we’re here. Now that we have time. One wanders off to cook and eat, another to the study to read, and the last sits in a corner, brooding. I’d protest at the caricatures of my behavior if it wasn’t so damn accurate.
In time, I ignore them. I watch the proceedings below with interest in the beginning, before boredom takes me and I turn away. Harry watches and records, muttering explanations to himself and his viewers—eventual viewers—doing his best to provide commentary. He throws himself into his work, though I note the way his foot never stops bouncing, the occasional stuttered pause.
More than once, I note Harry cursing or muttering in bewilderment as a political maneuver catches him by surprise. A lot of the time, he mutters things about needing more research.
I leave him to it, glad that work has the reporter absorbed, and walk over to find Mikito seated in lotus position, hands clasped before her, and meditating. I sit across from her, only for the Samurai to crack an eye open.
“You should try it. It’ll calm your mind and center you.”
“Calm might not be the best option. They’ve killed all my doppelgangers. They must be wondering where we are by now.” I drop my voice lower, leaning in and adding, “And I don’t know how long the others will stay distracted.”
Mikito sighs, exhaling roughly before she fixes me with both eyes. “Will worrying change things?”
“No.”
“Then as you like to say, what is, is. There is nothing more that we can do. So eat some chocolate, meditate, and stop bothering me.”
She shuts her eyes and I find myself alone once more. Forced to stew in my own thoughts. With nothing better to do, I focus within, playing with not the System but my Elemental Affinity, gently sensing the flow of bonds, the force of attraction and repulsion that makes up the Affinity. I consider the weakness shown, my lack of ability. And I explore new concepts, new ways of interacting with the system—gently.
Time passes slowly, inching forward as votes and new clauses and constitutions are put into play. We’re forced to wait, until finally, finally, Harry speaks.
“It’s time,” Harry says, gesturing down below.
“You sure?” I say.
“Yes. This bill needs to be voted upon. Afterward, it will be yours, with no others set to speak.”
I look at Ali, who shrugs and nods at the same time, as if to say he’s as sure as he can be.
When I dither for a second more, Feh’ral speaks up. “Go.”
I stand, looking around at the group. A part of me wonders if this is the right thing to do. The right course of action. But I’ve gone this far. Sacrificed too much.
I close my eyes, then nod. “Fine. Let’s go save Earth.”
Chapter 25
The votes go as expected. The numbers climb fast then slow down, as those who hesitate, who are compromised by Earth or me hover between opposing or abstaining. The simple sphere fills with liquid blue Mana for each positive vote, sloshing around the sphere as some hesitate. The sphere itself is large, many times larger than the Kapre-variant’s and most other votes’. This is a long-term vote, one meant to enforce itself across the entire Galactic System, and is subsequently large.
The votes come, and while I wait for those who hesitate, I look upon the notification that hangs above the sphere. The one that holds all the hopes of Earth.
Motion to restrict Dungeon Planets from the Galactic Council
Requires 2398Q Unites of System Mana.
Effect: Strips Dungeon Planets of the Planetary System Network, foregoing voting rights on the Galactic Council and all System-enabled Planetary Upgrades.
Prior purchased System-enabled planetary networks will be refunded and/or modified to suit new restricted framework.
Eventually, the Mana stops entering, leaving a clear amount of space for liquid to enter. There’s a small demarcation line and the liquid filled is below that by a few hundred thousand Mana points. I’m surprised that we made it that far. That the abstainers have held out for so long, that the pressure and horse trading has done so well that the liquid sloshes near the edge of completion but does not cross it.
Yet.
The Erethrans, the Duchess, a few of our other allies hold the line. Refusing to throw their votes for the motion. Direct vassal states follow their lead in most cases, though I note a few quick glances, a couple of surprises that are revealed. Ramanner, amongst his people, gestures more than once to a few hard-eyed compatriots who look with glinting malice upon the ones who have betrayed them.
The liquid trembles on the edge of crossing. I watch as those who abstained are turned on or toward. The vultures and the grifters, the deal makers and the Negotiators arrive, ready to sway. I know some hold off for the better deal.
I wonder if I’ll make more enemies by what I do next. Cutting their deals short, making all their hard work and plans just so much wastepaper.
Then I grin. Because it doesn’t matter. I never gave a damn anyway.
***
My voice cuts through the hubbub, and the aliens’ attention is drawn to my figure on the stage. The hair-and-string-ball of the Secretariat allowed the speech as per my right as one of the affected parties. The only affected party with a seat. It’s a little unusual to speak while the voting is happening, but not impossible.
As the Council stares at my figure, my words keep coming. Keeps pouring out, as if a dam is unleashed.
“I invoke my right, as proxy holder for the Dungeon Planet Earth, to speak about the motion.”
The Secretariat of the Council spins tendrils of hair and flesh together then pulls it apart creating a minor thunderclap. It silences the hall, the entire Council no longer able to make themselves heard to one another. A simple Skill.
“Thank you.”
The Secretariat doesn’t care, impassive eyes shifting to the timer that has appeared, indicating how much time I have to speak. Fifteen minutes. More than sufficient.
“You know, a decade or so ago, I was a barbarian with a stick in the middle of nowhere, watching the sunset on a beautiful lake. A nobody to the great and powerful personages before me. And then, you and your System came along. Rather than give us a chance to integrate peacefully, normally, you made us a Dungeon World.”
In the pause, in the silence, the aliens shift. I feel the information flow, the data passing and bouncing between Ambassadors and Diplomats and Bodyguards, as my presence is located. As they get ready to take me down when my time is up. Favors are called in and confirmed, bounties marked as pending collection. All this information flows, and attached to all that data streaming out of the Galactic Council, I sense the familiar touch of a friend’s Skill.
“You killed us. Billions of us humans. Transformed even more animals, some who might have become something more in a few tens of thousands of years. Altered the path of our destiny.” Exhale. Wry tone, almost amused. “Some of the survivors these days, some of them are grateful. Because when you made us a Dungeon World, you gave some of us strength. Power. Perks.
“You gave us a leg up, and some of us have taken it all the way to the stars. We’ve got Heroics now, and soon, we’ll have some of them in truth. Not a cheaty bastard like me, but people who earned it the hard way, wading through streets filled with blood, tearing through dungeons, and making it all the way through.”