Chapter 42: The Old Fashioned Lawsuit

Sam

March 21, 1787, Realm Time, The Outworlder Base

"Come, I'll drive you," Smith beckoned to Sam, pointing to a buggy.

"I'm fine. I'll use my own car," Sam said.

"Cars are forbidden for the duration of the lockdown. It's me and the buggy, or you stay out," Smith said.

While Sam went into the vehicle, Smith's wife pulled a lever. The giant door opened faster than one could think from its size, but stopped its movement in the middle. Smith squeezed the vehicle through, and immediately after, the blast door closed again. Ignoring the man, who was trying to make small talk while driving, Sam began reading the data Eliza had sent him.

Some information made sense, specifically why the Smiths were always hanging around the access door. Somehow, their simple minds had bonded with it, and they were nigh unkillable as long as they were nearby.

They're invulnerable to anything, except for Mind Magic, Sam thought,

Other data was far from being up to date. None of his, Eliza's, Tristan's, or their team's later skills and class evolutions were correctly recorded. They skipped a couple of evaluations in the last couple of months, busy fighting or negotiating here and there.

Maybe it's for the better.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, noticing they had taken an unusual turn and avoided the second checkpoint.

"The resort," Smith said. "All the guests are there; they negotiated some big treaty, or so the boss said. They're partying."

The Boss? Is the Juggernaut involved in this?

He opened his phone anew, analyzing the file of the man most considered the strongest awakened. Judging from what was displayed, the other teams have been more disciplined and have attended every regular check-out. They were also higher in level.

'The Juggernaut, level 80, Third Tier.

'A pure melee spec, The Juggernaut takes full damage only on the first hit of the combat. Any type of damage is then resisted, reflected back, and increases his Strength by 1% for each hit to a maximum of +200%. To eliminate the risk of a lucky first hit, the Juggernaut delivers an electric shock to himself as soon as he is registered in combat by his Interface, counting as a first hit.'

Shit! He's strong.

The tunnel took a right, and a mile further, another blast door opened to let them out. The resort was in the southern part of the mountains, with a few hot springs used in its bathhouses. It had a concert hall, a few sports venues, a casino, and two hotels, and in the past, it was able to host a few thousand people at the same time. Now, everything but one hotel and a bathhouse was abandoned, the other buildings empty.

Guess it's still better than the underground, Sam shrugged.

Smith stopped the car in front of the hotel. "The reception is in here," the man said with disdain, spitting on the ground over the buggy's door.

"I guess you were not invited, huh? Go figure."

"One day, I'll give you a good beating just to teach you not to be so smug," Smith said, staring hatefully with his little beady eyes.

"I'm not smug, I'm just stating facts: you're a jerk," Sam shrugged, getting out of the buggy.

Smith half-cocked his right arm back, and Sam stared into his eyes, smiling. The guard spat again and drove away, tires screeching, showing Sam the middle finger, his mouth spitting a bleep every two seconds.

His Int and Will are still below thirty.No surprises here.

A pair of attendants opened the doors for him. No one attempted to take his katana. In the first lobby, there were three members of the Combat Squad and a Mage, all with powers unknown, and they all stared at him at the same time.

They're in the plot…

Finding out their abilities would have been neat, but he didn't know their names to start with, and guessing without seeing them at work was useless. Sam walked on, entering the main reception room.

About a hundred people were having a good time, oblivious to whatever drama was going on. Outworlders—mainly the Council members and their families—were chatting and mingling with locals. A small band, a quartet with a piano, was playing in a corner, and he recognized Amadeus among them. They discreetly nodded at each other.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

There was a buffet, plus servants who walked around carrying drinks. Sam stretched his hand and took a glass of his favorite cocktail: the Old Fashioned. Taking a sip, he let out a sigh of satisfaction. He drank again, squeezing his eyes to scrutinize the room, searching for clues. After the third sip, a voice called:

"Samuel! It's so good to see you, my friend!"

He turned on his heels and was caught in a bear hug. It felt weak now, but back in its time, it bruised his ribs.

"General Georgescu?" Sam widened his eyes.

"It's Duke Georgescu now. Join us, I'll explain everything." The general tried to pull Sam by the arm, but the latter's stability wouldn't let him be dragged. "Oh… You grew strong, my friend. Follow me."

Glass still in hand, Sam followed. The general led the way to a separate, smaller room where a few people were sitting at a table. The Council's President, Joseph, a few nobles representing the Confederation of the Rhine, and an elf, looking more human than any other elf Sam had ever met, but still very tall, with a haughty expression and dressed in eighteenth-century fashion, albeit he wore no wig.

"Sit, please," the general waved his hand. "I apologize for the delay. Those guards are stupid. My orders to keep visitors away did not include you."

"What's going on?" Sam asked sincerely. The guests were evidently unaware of the takeover. Their body language was normal, even relaxed. If there was one sentiment he could read on all the faces around, it was relief.

"General Georgescu approached us yesterday with an offer we couldn't refuse," the President said. "We presented it to our guests today, and it was signed into a treaty."

"You've signed a treaty after just a few hours of negotiations?" Sam asked.

"Our mission was to be recognized," an elderly noble of the Confederation said. "That went exceedingly well. There was no evident reason to aimlessly procrastinate."

"There was nothing to negotiate," Joseph followed. "The Protectorates recognized me as their sovereign. We're dissolving the Holy Roman Empire and starting an Austrian Empire."

"Like it happened on Earth," the general said. I was appointed a Duke. Don't worry, it's honorific. The Protectorates will be an autonomous democracy, with the Council members as ministers. Everybody's happy."

A nauseating feeling washed over Sam. He felt sick thinking he once considered Georgescu his best friend, or worse, a mentor. The general delayed him on purpose and knew about the massacre in the research facility. The constant shift in his eyes was proof enough.

At the same time, he could tell the President didn't know. Thomas looked happy, oblivious that his friend, the Head Scientist, had been tortured and murdered.

"I thought you didn't like monarchy," Sam said blandly, looking the President in the eyes.

"I had a change of heart when Georgescu reopened the portal," the former Council President stared back defiantly.

"What?"

"You heard me. He reopened the portal."

"Allow me to explain," the general said. "After I lost the elections, a group of friends and I, all military, worked as freelance contractors."

"Mercenaries?"

"If you must use that word, yes. We kept a low profile, using our skills here and there. I was in Rome, helping train the Pope's bodyguards, when I met this gentleman, who's a portal expert," Georgescu said, looking at the elf.

"I was window shopping," the elf said.

"Elves are not from the Realm," Georgescu said.

"I know," Sam said.

"We had a coffee together. I asked for guidance, and guess what? All you need, except quantum tech or advanced magic, is to follow the rules of the land and have a portal expert at hand," Georgescu nodded toward the elf.

The elf nodded back. "I inquired into the matter exhaustively before I made my decision to help. When you Earthlings arrived, the portal was under His Majesty's authority. He allowed you as ambassadors and tradespeople; thus, the gate remained open. However, your pernicious ideas spread, and war ensued. When you won, Magic acknowledged you as the new de facto rulers."

He means the Zeitgeist?

"However, you started bickering, and the second war started. Magic was inclined to return its recognition to the Emperor. The portal destabilized. Then the Empire was caught in internal strife, and the land's situation remained uncertain. Who was Magic supposed to recognize? An Emperor who abandoned the fight? A council that cannot decide anything of importance? Now, Magic knows. As long as this land has a rightful leader, a Duke, the gate will remain open."

Shiiiiit, Sam wailed on the inside. Our elves told us the same… I was about to figure it out, then Eliza made a stupid joke and distracted me. It's HER fault; he tried to cope with his failure, even though he knew the fault was all his.

"I checked personally… I was on Earth, Sam," the President said.

"Just a small question. By pernicious ideas, you mean what, exactly?"

"Democracy," the elf creased his nose, looking disgusted. "The concept that inferiors are equal to their betters. That commoners have... ugh... the right to choose their ruler."

On the last words, Sam could swear the elf was about to throw up.

"So, according to you, wormholes and democracy are incompatible?" Sam asked.

"They should work with a strong President," General Georgescu said, "but Karoperos was adamant about—"

"I don't indulge folly," the elf sneered. "Your kind is degenerate enough as it is to allow them the decadent filth of democracy."

"Wow!" was the only word Sam could say.

"Indeed," the elf nodded, looking satisfied, like Sam had understood his point.

"Why didn't you bring Kaunitz to the negotiations?" Tristan asked Joseph.

"He's a killjoy," Joseph smirked. "Always plays the smart ass and finds faults everywhere."

"Like for instance, figuring that all Georgescu has to do to conquer the Realm is to bring in a few nukes?"

"I give you my word, I wouldn't do such a thing," the General said, touching his chest with his right palm. Sam knew the general was lying because the fingers were way above his heart and his left hand behind his back, probably its fingers crossed. And also because the man had allowed the science team to be murdered in cold blood just to have the Awakened's secrets all for himself.

"This… duke-related portal thing, can it be undone?" he looked at the elf, a decision starting to form in his heart and mind, not that he liked it.

"It cannot," the elf said deadpan.

"The treaty was properly done, and was written on enchanted paper that sent the information to the Mana Field's memory," Georgescu said. "You call it Zeitgeist."

"Then I'm suing you," Sam snapped, looking Georgescu in the eyes.

"C'mon, Sam, this is not the US," the General laughed.

"Not that kind of lawsuit. I'm talking of the good old ways," Sam sneered. "Trial by combat. The prize will be the duke title."