I found a quiet spot to sit and let my feelings wash over me. Four choices was an insanely luxurious lineup by the standards of gacha game quests. It strongly implied that the different routes would be at most superficially different, all leading to the same events. Presumably there would be subtly different rewards depending on which route I picked.

  At a guess, there would be a scripted loss, then a desperate last ditch battle in the big battlefield outside Wastet. Or, even more likely, get the victory here, have a cut scene where everything goes wrong, and then have the climactic battle. That sounded right, but felt wrong.

  I drummed my fingers on my leg, trying to figure out rationally what I was feeling instinctively. Thematically, it fit. That was the basic story structure, and it’s a good ‘un. But was that what we had done in the other two relic sites? Not really. Gradden March had already fallen, sort of, but in that scenario we managed to save the Floating Quarter. Hidden Moon Mountain wasn’t a million miles different, for all that I messed that one up. The mountain was already the playground of the Woodcutter and his monstrous Wife. I came in and liberated it.

  Must check for hidden oil reserves. Just in case.

  Anyway!

  This Relic Site seemed tailored for Genuda Defense Force Awakened, and it was reasonable to conclude that the ‘good guys’ here were supposed to be Genuda. Equally reasonably, they blatantly weren't. They were just the less-bad guys. The American in me wanted to side with the city- either Mr. Bacciato for that vaguely (but not really) proletarian vibe, or the more ambitious Mayor for the empire building theme. After all, winning a revolution is the easy part. Keeping the throne afterward is hard. All the Mayor’s hard work would be inherited by me as Verton integrated with my Sky Realm.

  Couple of small problems there. Trivial, really. Hardly worth mentioning. There was a final set of traitors. The ones who had already cut a deal with Hosk and their backers. Mr. Brass Buttons, Saccio, who had already committed one atrocity that we knew about, as well as aiding and abetting the raiders by supplying them horses. As long as they were here, any plan to change city governance would be suicidal.

  So how do we save Verton? Tell the mayor his hand-picked revolutionaries are actually Hosk patsies? That wouldn’t end well. Truso? More motivation to do what he already intended to do. Pastet wasn’t even worth considering- his plan, unstated though it was, was to turn the city into a tax farm using Genuda as the collection agency. He didn’t give a damn who ran the city, so long as he got his percentage. Mr. Bacciato was all the incompetence and treachery of the Mayor’s plan, but with an oligarchy instead of a monarchy. Woo hoo.

  Maybe I’m doing Mr. Bacciato wrong, but someone who keeps emphasizing ‘real men’ triggers my Redpill Scam alarms. I don’t care if it’s traditional or historical or whatever. A Redpill Scam is a Redpill Scam, and I’m not going to take manliness instruction from a bald sex trafficker with a better tuck than competition grade drag queens. Or Mr. Bacciato. I think I have some kind of PTSD from that crap. Too much time on the Chans, that’s what does it. Too much time on /b and /pol.

  That’s what they don’t tell you when they finally turn you loose on the internet. It’s not that there are Nazi Furries. It’s that the Nazi Furries are the shallow end of the depravity ocean. It gets so much worse from there. Tentacle hentai is where you return to heal and decompress. Got to take it slow when you come up from the deep. The bends can kill you.

  Christ, what a mess.

  The whole situation was cursed. And I can’t just ask Othai what to do, because the system will lock her out.

  “Othai, speak freely on any topic you like, but you have to talk about something.” I figured it would be worth a shot.

  “There is this kind of food that you make out of soup but you keep the soup pot on the flame. You dip things in the soup, then eat them when they are cooked through a bit. The last thing you do at the end of the meal is scoop everyone a bowl of the soup to drink.”

  “Sounds tasty.” I smiled a little. I missed eating. Not all the time, but I did miss it.

  “People squabble over who gets what to dip into the soup, and there is never enough of someone’s favorites. Also there is always someone who has the great idea of dumping more seasoning into the soup base, even if they are the only ones who like that flavor. So in addition to squabbling over the food, you have to guard the soup against defilement.”

  “Dinner and a not-so-fun game. I can see that. So how do you manage it?”

  “I eat a roast chicken instead.” I laughed. Othai didn’t. “On the unhappy occasions when I have to participate, I step in as the enforcer. You get so much meat and so much veggies, no you can’t add fish paste, no I don’t care if you made it yourself, no I don’t care if you fermented it for a month on your back porch-”

  “I’m sensing a traumatic memory there.”

  “There was this one company commander. We all went to the same social functions, and he was utterly convinced that the only way to make a hearty chicken soup base taste ‘right’ was by adding a few big spoonfuls of a fermented fish paste he made himself. Nasty stuff, the smell alone made everyone sick. Never seemed to stop him.”

  God, Othai was smart.

  “Someone of the same rank as you, how did you manage to back him down?”

  “Simple. There was always someone there ready to add hot pepper paste to the soup. He hated hot pepper paste, so there was always a compromise.”

  “Neither got what they wanted. Which happened to be what you wanted. You and everyone else. But you still had to guard the pot since they were both the strong willed sort. I mean, I’m assuming here. I can’t imagine a go-along-get-along type running a mercenary company.” I smiled.

  “Correct. Which is why I didn’t leave the soup pot. It would have been a really big problem, but after the first time, I made sure I was the one who owned the pot.” She locked up after that. Literally locked up. I could see her shutting down. Whatever reserves of free will and creativity she had were clearly used up. I just hoped it wouldn’t damage her in the long run.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Rache- damn, force of habit. Miyuki, Rikka, can you tell if there are people hiding in the buildings around here? Particularly a man wearing a coat with a lot of brass buttons?”

  “The prey will not escape!”

  “I am eager to relieve my Lord’s worries.” Miyuki looked alarmingly enthused. So did Rikka for that matter, but Miyuki was definitely thrilled to be hunting humans for me. I was only puzzled for half a second- they were part of the “Hunters of Hidden Moon Mountain” set. Their specialities? Monsters and monstrous humans. They had hunted a lot of monsters for me, and picking off bandits was sort of like hunting, but running down hidden traitors and monster sympathizers?

  If they knew what Christmas was, they would think it was just like that.

  “Start with Saccio, the brass button man. If you can capture him alive, so much the better. I want to know everyone he works with. Everyone. From the Mayor to his Hosk raider contacts, to the most stupid street level thugs. All of them.”

  Once we got that network rolled up, we would start in on Bacciato’s network. Then there would be Pastet, who would be a little dicier to deal with as I still wanted to use that charter later. Still, while he might be pissed about a mandatory time out in a comfy room somewhere, I had a feeling he would appreciate the new trade opportunities coming his way. A merchant needed to be flexible.

  As for Truso… he could either accept what I was doing here, or he could also go for a mandatory time out. That would be a hell of a lot harder. I was certain he wouldn’t come peacefully.

  Then there was His Honor the Mayor. He could share a comfy room with Truso. Maybe one with a view out over the walls, as I am certain digging into these networks would provoke an attack from hidden forces. Might do the Mayor good to see that things were not quite what he thought they were.

  A hidden route. I felt the smile stretching across my face. You would need Othai, and you would have to convince her that you would get the job done, and probably a bunch of other factors, but there was a genuine article hidden route to the good end.

  “Quick question for the group- does anyone know any suitable expletives for this situation? I’ll be candid with you. I’m stumped. I genuinely don’t know how to process this level of need-to-swear with my current toolset.”

  My Awakened all shook their heads slowly. Disappointing but expected.

  “I mean, all of them are hidden revolutionaries? Literally ALL of them? There has to be- Rikka how many are there?”

  “Two hundred and seventy, my lord, though all but a bare handful are idiotic thugs.”

  Translation- five officers, two hundred and sixty five sub-One Star intellect monsters. Probably running on the eldritch necromantic horror equivalent of a potato powered digital clock or a Pentium II, whichever was cheaper.

  “Right, but… everybody in Verton is a traitor. Literally everybody. Except the mercenaries I guess.” I kept an eye on Othai, but she didn’t so much as twitch. She was still pretty wooden. I was trying not to feel worried about it, and failing.

  “It does say something about the quality of leadership, I suppose.” Versai grinned nastily. “Not saying we didn’t have idiots and traitors, but the Queen was still raising loyal troops right up until-” She suddenly looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “One day.”

  She nodded. I think we both sighed.

  It’s funny. I keep wanting to pigeon hole the queen she worked for as some kind of evil or cruel monarch. Like from Snow White, or Cerci from Game of Thrones. She obviously wasn’t, though. Not a nice person, but not evil. Capable of inspiring real loyalty. But even knowing all that, I felt the image of her slithering back towards the Evil Queen archetype.

  Guess the Awakened weren’t the only ones stuck in their loops. 4Chan really messed me up.

  I rubbed my forehead. “Othai, I paid for my mercs for the day. Can I deploy them in the City?”

  “Technically yes, though for mass mobilization you would generally need permission from the Mayor.”

  “Fantastic. Just. Super.” This was going to be annoying. Doable. But annoying. “Okay. Did Saccio say how he gathered his people up?”

  “He did, my Lord. Three white X’s, drawn on that street corner. Then they all meet in the basement of the building next to it.” Rikka pointed. It made sense. The city part of the Verton map was only about three streets wide. Limited places for the signal and the meeting.

  “Get drawing. Everyone else, let’s check out the meeting spot and plan our ambush. Rikka, any idea of the rough numbers we are looking at for this batch?”

  “Between eighty and ninety, my Lord. But I suspect that some of them will be hiding their true nature, and that by beating the grass we may startle the snakes.”

  “Good. Great, even. We want lots of jumpy snakes. Hopefully they pop out and try to take a bite out of us. It will save time looking for them.”

  In retrospect, I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “REEEEE!”

  “VERMIN!” Versai shield bashed the mutated human straight through a wall. I’m hoping it’s mutated. It’s either that, or some kind of body snatching parasite that gives you a lamprey's mouth and four inch claws the second a fight breaks out. Most of the people in the room were humans, fighting with daggers and the occasional hatchet. They were yelling some kind of revolutionary slogan, but even they got a bit weirded out seeing a fifth of their number turn into lamprey faced horrors.

  Not enough to stop fighting us. But some.

  I wasn’t too worried though. I had Miyuki protecting Radz with one of the Three Handers outside. The rest of the Three Handers were deployed inside. In the tightly packed basement. With unarmored, dagger wielding civilians. The Three Handers, having been set up for success, did an admirable job justifying their existence. They were killing and maiming three or more with each swing of their long swords.

  Othai was moving like a vengeful executioner. Every step saw a traitor stabbed, hacked, hooked or trampled. She was speeding up too. She hadn’t taken to the speed hack the way Versai had, but she had some measure of it, and was making it work.

  Rikka was ghosting around the edges, popping out of the many shadows to slit a throat or stab a back. It was downright scary to watch. A shadow would suddenly come alive and a spray of red blood would fly out, then whatever was in the shadow would vanish once more. If I were a lamprey-faced monster, I’d say REEEE too.

  And then there was Versai. Delicate, sweet natured flower that she was. She was absolutely pasting anything that came within nine feet of me. Just pure violence. If they were on the left? Shield bash. Right? Sword to the face. Made no difference. Awakened versus civilians? It was an utter slaughter. The mercenaries were looking sick by the end of it.

  I didn’t blame them. Eighty bodies in a basement is a hell of a mess. Especially since few of them died with an intact corpse. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve seen in this game, but watching it happen up close was nasty.

  And we would have to do this two more times. That’s why I started with the Mayor’s group. I was least concerned about him doing something squirrely once he realized all his mooks were gone, and his only remaining muscle were Genuda mercs.

  “Cut off the heads of the ones with weird mouths. Grab the body of Mr. Brass Buttons too. Stash ‘em somewhere discreet. We’ll be doing a show and tell later.”

  Next up- Bacciato. I cracked my wrists. My “good friend” must be tired after sitting on that bench all day. I’d send a couple of cute girls to accompany him for a little bit and take him to a quiet room to discuss hopes and dreams. And to make sure we knew where all of his people were. No hidden surprises. He was the type to get creative.

  Mr. Bacciato was outraged. He was profoundly disappointed with my shocking betrayal. He didn’t know where I got such hideous heads from but he would certainly not be intimidated. Under other circumstances, I would have been the one intimidated. Even sitting still, the man loomed like a mountain. He must have terrified his kids.

  I had just come out of a basement filled with dismembered corpses. The mountain could loom all it wanted. If it moved, it would start losing pieces. I couldn’t see her, but I knew damn well Rikka was in the shadows behind him, just praying that he would try something.

  “Mr. Bacciato, two things are going to happen today. The first thing is that I am going to kill every single person who might open the gates to the enemy, and who might attack the walls’ defenders from behind. The second thing that’s going to happen is me taking over the city. Believe it or not- I would strongly prefer to keep you alive. I think you are someone who is both capable and daring. I can never have too many capable people working for me.”

  I stood up, feeling very tired. “I do, however, have rats in my organization. Only one so far. He is locked in a small room, all by himself. He will remain there until he dies. And there is absolutely no chance of him dying.” Mr. Bacciato must have seen something in my eyes, because his face tightened.

  “You think you can intimidate me?”

  “I really hope so. I’m going to leave the heads and bodies with you. You are a smart man, Mr. Bacciato. You can figure out why I’m doing this alone, rather than picking one of you to work with.”

  We walked out of the room, and locked it. The only window was a few inches across. I didn’t think he was going to starve any more than Osian did. I felt lessened by doing things this way. Like it would have been better to just kill him. Not for my own sake, but to preserve his dignity.

  A real man could die, but not be humiliated. Something like that. I don’t know. I’ve never been a ‘real man.’

  Just a damn weeb.