“You mean Jennifer Taylor?” Blake clarified.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Who else would I be talking about?”
“How do you know she needs help?” he asked.
“Because she messaged me, duh.” Oliver’s breath was finally recovered. He strolled into the room and plopped himself down in a seat. “She said she’s been stuck in the Show Low jail cell since you left her, and you’re not answering your messages.”
“Blake, we owe her,” Donna reminded him.
He nodded, but questioned his brother further. “How did she even know who you are?”
Oliver’s jaw dropped in faux outrage. “I’m hurt! Didn’t I tell you I was her biggest fan?”
He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“Fine,” his brother huffed. “I have a blog on that new Ribbit clone the Architect ripped off. I mentioned you were my brother and that you were back from a chat with the Architect.”
“You did what?!” Blake stood.
“Chill, bro.”
“How can you just casually mention that I was talking with the Architect?” he began to pace back and forth. “Everyone’s going to assume I’m working for it now, like President Warner said.”
“Oh, they already do,” Oliver agreed. “Didn’t you check out the subribbit? Hell, just search for your name. It’s right there, Lord Blake Summers, Scion of Humanity, Ambassador to the Architect.”
Blake stopped and sighed.
Why the hell does it have to make everything I do so much harder?
“Fine, I’ll get her out of jail on the way to Payson,” Blake agreed.
“We’ll get her out,” Oliver corrected him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Blake replied carefully.
“I agree,” Peter added. “It’s likely to be dangerous out there. There’s no reason to put both of you at risk.”
Donna nodded.
“What the hell?” Oliver looked around at the united front. “Am I supposed to be trapped here forever? I want to help, and I can drive a truck just as easily as anyone else.”
Not with those shaking hands, you can’t.
Blake suppressed the thought and instead replied, “You’re helping by mastering alchemy. Right now, you’re the only alchemist in the world who can make a health potion. We need those for when people get injured.”
Oliver sneered. “I’ve got like thirty of them sitting around. That’ll last us weeks.”
“No, it won’t,” Blake disagreed. “I’ll take twenty-five with me, so Jessica’s town has a reserve. With monsters appearing in a couple of days, we’re going to get a lot more injured people. They’ll all need healing potions.”
“Then, I’ll make more when we get back. It’s just thirty minutes away. I’ll drive you to Show Low, you can bust her out, then I’ll drive her back while you head on to Payson.”
Blake remained silent while he considered his brother’s request. His mother frowned.
I don’t think he should be driving, but he’s not wrong. At this point, it’s probably the safest it’s going to be outside.
“Oh my God!” Oliver blurted. “Now I have to go! The Architect just gave me a directive to rescue the people held in Show Low’s jail.”
Blake narrowed his eyes.
Is he making it up, or is the Architect screwing with me?
While what his brother described sounded like a typical directive the AI would create, it felt a bit too convenient for his taste.
Whatever. I was going to let him go anyway.
“Fine, you can go,” Blake relented. He glanced at his parents to gauge their reactions, but they remained neutral. “But, you can’t drive, and you have to follow orders.”
“Sweet!” Oliver celebrated.
“That includes turning around and coming back here if I think it’s too dangerous,” Blake informed him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver waved his concern away. “Let’s grab the trucks and go!”
He shook his head. “I can’t, not yet. I still need to finish healing.”
“Bro, I thought you had super healing. Didn’t you fall yesterday?”
“Evidently, only thirty minutes passed for your brother while we experienced a full day,” Donna explained for him.
“Weird,” Oliver shrugged. “You need a healing potion to speed it up?”
“Naw, save ‘em. I’ll feel good enough to go in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I’m going to go meet our new faction members.”
“Suit yourself,” his brother almost skipped to the door. Just before he left the room, he called out, “And don’t forget to let me know before you leave. I have a directive I can’t miss!”
After Oliver was gone, Peter asked, “Did the Architect really give him a directive to rescue those people?”
“I don’t know, it could have,” Blake admitted. “But, unless you want to force him to share his status screen, we’ll probably never know.”
“I suppose a supervised trip outside is better than him leaving on his own,” Donna mused.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Blake nodded. “So, you said Chairman Tessay is in charge of the Apache?” His mother nodded. “Then I should probably go see him with Mom before I leave.”
His father slapped a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “You two do that, I’m going to head back to the kitchen before they burn the place down without me.”
He said goodbye to his father and slowly descended the two flights of stairs to the lobby. When he exited the front door of the faction hall, he saw people everywhere. He paused and watched them as they carried supplies and keepsakes into the bunkhouses.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Hey mom, how many people can our bunkhouses hold again?”
“Well, that depends. Right now, the policy is at least two adults per room. Although, that’s not too much of an issue right now. Most of the natives have families, and some of them are choosing to squeeze in with four or even five people.” She shook her head. “But, if we assume two people per room, we should have enough space for about six thousand.”
Blake grimaced. “Damn, I was really hoping we could house ten thousand by now.”
His mother sighed. “So did I. But, at the time, we didn’t expect to be besieged and then attacked by the military.”
Stupid Warner.
“You know,” Blake said as he observed the activity. “I didn’t expect them to have that many horses. We’re going to need stables for them all.”
His mother nodded in agreement. “Right now, Jordan and Brent are focused on upgrading our second cookhouse. We need more room for people to eat. But, once they finish with that, they can get started on it.”
“Don’t forget, they can hire people without classes as general laborers. They won’t gain mastery or anything, but they can temporarily use their foreman’s abilities. That’s actually going to be the majority of people’s jobs. Either that or scavenging.”
“Well, luckily we have plenty of nano to pay them now,” Donna remarked.
Blake glanced at his mother in confusion. He was about to ask her how, then realized he already knew the answer.
Taxes.
Donna had reverted the tax rate back to ten percent once the dome was no longer under attack. That levy not only applied to nano earned from kills, but also to directives, money transfers, and wages. When their new faction members joined, they completed their first directive, join or create a faction. They were awarded two point five mega-nano, and ten percent of that went to the faction.
We should have over two hundred million nano now. Not bad.
“Well, let’s go see the Chief,” Blake smiled at his mother.
Donna shook her head and warned him. “Don’t call him that. His title is Chairman, not Chief.”
“I got it, I got it,” Blake assured her.
Blake hobbled around the town for a full ten minutes before he and his mother were able to locate Chairman Tessay. The older man’s back was to them as he directed one of his people. He had long, gray hair, which was bound into a single braid in the back, and wore a brown blazer over a white dress shirt and jeans, with a cowboy hat.
“No, the Chancellor wanted us to use the south buildings.”
The man was about to respond to the Chairman, when he saw Blake and his mother. His eyes widened, almost comically large, as he stared in shock.
The Chairman turned to see what caught his subordinate ‘s attention. “Oh, welcome back, Lord Blake.” He spoke with a smooth voice as he extended his hand. “I’m Chairman Tessay.”
Blake flinched at the use of the title but recovered quickly. After Blake returned the handshake, he greeted Donna as well, “Chancellor Summers, good to see you again.”
“You as well,” Donna replied.
The Chairman turned to address Blake. “Lord Blake, will you be addressing the faction? Your people became concerned at your sudden disappearance yesterday. They would be glad to know you’ve returned.”
“Just Blake is fine, and you’re right, I should do that. Let everyone know what happened before rumors start spreading.”
Chairman Tessay smiled as he shook his head. “Lord Blake, titles are important. You should insist people use them. They reinforce your authority and provide a weight of respect, all on their own.”
“You make a good point,” his mother agreed.
Fine.
Blake was uncomfortable with his titles. To him, they reminded him of the leaders who remained safe within town while they ordered fighters to their deaths.
Well, Lord Blake is better than Ambassador to the Architect Blake.
“I suppose I should,” Blake finally agreed.
The Chairman was about to speak when his eyes suddenly glazed over. A moment later, a grin lit up his face. “Congratulations on your promotion!”
Promotion? What is he talking about?
A moment later, his mother added, “Interesting, Jessica must be recruiting as well. Looks like our faction just passed a thousand members.”
“It’s a good start, Lord Blake. Or, I suppose it’s Baron Blake now,” the Chairman grinned.
Stupid notification spam.
Blake held up a finger while he navigated his interface.
What the hell?! Three hundred thousand friend requests? There has to be a way to block them.
He focused on disabling the new feature, and was satisfied when his notification count finally stopped rising. After the spam halted, he immediately denied all friend requests, en masse, and opened up the latest alert.
For gaining over a thousand faction members, your title has been upgraded. - [Lord] → [Baron]
The [Baron] title increases your attributes by ten percent and grants members of your faction two percent of your attributes. Raise your faction level to upgrade your title.
Wow, that’s huge.
The new title increased his attributes five percent over the last, and doubled the gain his faction members received. Blake closed out the notification and then checked his next.
You have gained one hundred million nano for completing a directive.
Wow, that’s a big reward.
Blake had been unable to complete his final objective for weeks now. While his faction hall had been high enough level to invite over a thousand people to his faction for months now, he had not been able to do so.
Three months ago, when he first upgraded the faction hall to level three, he was forced to hide from the police. Then, when his location was finally revealed, he was under siege and under attack. Now, there was nothing that would stop him from reaching the fifty thousand-person limit of a level four faction hall.
Well, nothing but bunkhouse space. We really need to get more built.
According to Metal, his companion, the next title upgrade would not be granted until the faction reached ten thousand members. Blake dismissed the notification and opened his condensed status, eager to see the changes.
Baron Blake Summers, Scion of Humanity, Ambassador to the Architect
Combat Classification - Level 2
Race - Tier 1
Attributes - Increased by 72% → 77%
Physical Power - 32.7 → 33.6[5]
Physical Stamina - 27.5 → 28.3[1]
Physical Resistance - 27.5 → 28.3[5]
Magic Power - 27.5 → 28.3[5]
Magic Stamina - 27.5 → 28.3[2]
Magic Resistance - 29.2 → 30.1[2]
Nano - 90m
Wow, five free attributes.
When added, without the seventy-seven percent increase, his six attributes equaled one hundred. As they now totaled one hundred and seventy-seven, that made it extremely easy to calculate the five percent gain. Hmm, the title still doesn’t add much to the faction, but it’s better than nothing.
The Baron title granted two percent of his adjusted attributes to his faction, minus increases from the gear he wore, or the temporary potions he drank. That meant every member of the Terran Alliance received a bit over three and a half total attributes from Blake, permanently, as long as they remained within the faction.
Just imagine when I reach level ten.
Blake quickly checked his directives to see if he received anything new, but was disappointed when he found none. After he gave his status one last glance, he closed his interface and began to pay attention to the conversation.
“...need to bring back more food, or we will soon run out.” Chairman Tessay told his mother.
“Yes, we have plans to do that, but don’t discount food gained from the fields. Once Blake brings back our members, we can build a new, much larger wall around our current one. Laborers can tear down the structures and fill the area between the walls with farms. Once that’s complete, it should be more than enough to feed our faction. Especially when added to butchered animals.”
Tessay looked doubtful.
“Sorry about that,” Blake apologized. “The notifications were becoming distracting. And, it’s true,” Blake confirmed. “The shield isn’t the only magical thing about this town. Crops grow from seed to mature in four weeks, and can be harvested every month, regardless of the season. Trust me, in a month, we won’t have any issues with food.”
Chairman Tessay grinned. “Thank goodness. I was afraid we would be forced to slaughter the horses.”
“Definitely not,” Blake assured him. “Those horses and carts will be a Godsend in a few months when our diesel trucks break down.”
Blake and his mother continued to converse with the tribal leader for the next hour. After they finished, Blake made good on his promise and sent out a message to his entire faction. He explained what happened to him after he was sucked into the portal, and what his new title meant.
In the message, Blake vehemently insisted that he remained at odds with the Architect. It was important to him that his faction believe in him. He also felt it was important to get ahead of any rumors that may spread, and squashed them from the beginning. While he did believe in transparency, he decided not to mention the fact that the Architect almost decided to delegate the entire human race to fodder for the other races.
Finally, when he addressed all the pressing concerns, he messaged his brother.
Baron Blake Summers, Scion of Humanity, Ambassador to the Architect: Hey Oliver, head out to the trucks, it’s time to leave.
