Chapter 219: The Spirit of Compromise

  At the moment, Vim was unable to speak, and anything that he said or wanted to say would’ve just come out as “gluhblubblub.” But if he could speak, he would angrily shout at this giant whale-creature to get the fuck out of his face, as it had been swimming alongside him for the past twenty minutes and he was pretty sure that, any time the ocean water suddenly warmed, it meant that the creature was pissing on him.

  Look at this fucking thing, he thought to himself. Seriously, is no one going to shoo it away?

  It was a massive creature with a weird, glowing, antenna-like thing sticking off the top of its bulbous head, and for some Gods-know-what reason, it seemed to want to swim around Vim. In fact, it’d been keeping pace with him pretty much since he began this dive. But the worst part of it all was that it completely obscured his view of the sexy mermaids—a name even he knew not to call them aloud—swimming in their sexy mermaid bikinis ahead of them.

  Ever since the Orcs became so prominent on social media, they’d begun enforcing their political correctness on everyone else. Thus, it had come as a surprise to no one that the Orcs had in recent years chosen to ally themselves with the mermaid-led struggle to abolish the antiquated term “mermaid,” and thanks to their diligence, it was now socially unacceptable and considered a slur when used to refer to the female members of the merfolk species; instead, they were now meant to be called “merwomen,” which just sounded all wrong to Vim’s ears.

  He still thought of them as mermaids.

  Anyway, for the moment, he was losing his patience. He was tired of this big, grey, vision-blocking creature, and he’d had enough of it. So, Vim drew back his hand and punched it in its face, causing it to make a loud, sad cry that sounded like “Wuhh-wuhh-wuhh” as it hurriedly swam away. This caused ten trident-wielding mermaids, fifteen armored mermen, High-Lord Oren, and even his own second-in-command, Haisel Ragora, to turn their heads and glare angrily at him.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Bathoonba asked. He was the king’s nephew and the head of the royal guard; his golden and silver armor spoke for his position. “Sir Alazar, did you just…did you just punch a Love Whale, one of our holiest and most sacred animals?”

  Vim shook his head no, unable to verbally reply just yet. As he did so, the look of exasperation on the face of High-Lord Oren only seemed to deepen. But it wasn’t just him, either. Queen Vayra, who swam alongside them, was also glowering at him with ferocity in her eyes.

  “I saw him do it, Commander Bathoonba,” replied a red-haired, well-endowed mermaid with piercing blue eyes. She pointed her trident at him. “That Gnome just slammed his fist into the face of that poor creature! How barbaric!”

  Give me a fucking break, Vim thought to himself, annoyed. He wanted to respond in his own words, but the underwater breathing enchantments that allowed users to breathe for up to two hours did not, unfortunately, allow them to speak.

  As Vim again shook his head to deny any wrongdoing, a pain flared in his back, and he realized he’d been slapped by the Elvish queen, who then swam forward and pointed at a basket filled with specialized, bronze-colored helmets, which completely concealed the wearer’s face. Putting it on, a flurry of bubbles began escaping valves positioned on each side of the helmet, and this continued for around ten seconds as the helmet pushed out water and filled with air before she was able to form words, which echoed out of speakers built into the helmet.

  “I apologize for any offense the Royal Roses may have just caused,” she said. “Please know that their actions do not speak for all of North Bastia.”

  Commander Bathoonba grunted. “That’s for my uncle, the king, to decide. For the record, I find this entire meeting ill-conceived. Be grateful that I am not the one in charge, as I would not deal with the humans or this foul-mouthed Gnome.”

  “I understand, and I apologize if you’ve taken offense. Let us not derail things due to this slight. I assure you that Sir Alazar had no understanding of what those creatures meant to your people.”

  “Of course he doesn’t. Why would he?” Bathoonba made another grunt but seemed to relent. “Very well, let us continue on.”

  With that, Fylwen removed the helmet and continued to swim along, but not before giving Vim a very serious look of warning. To make matters worse, that fucking whale creature decided to come back, only now there were three of them, and they were practically sandwiching Vim between themselves.

  If not for the incredible sight up ahead, he would’ve hit all three.

  So, this is City of the Sea Gods, he thought. Have to hand it to these fish. They sure know how to build a city.

  Naturally, calling them “fish” was an even bigger racial slur than calling a mermaid a mermaid, and Vim would have to be very careful not to do so during the meeting or else he’d risk being challenged to a duel to the death.

  Upon swimming through a patch of tall seagrass, they made their way over a cliff-like ledge, below which revealed a gigantic, enchanting city filled with millions of bright, orange-yellow lights. There were small submarines zipping along what looked like designated lanes, and there were also an uncountable number of dome-shaped homes and globe-shaped buildings.

  Though the entire population of merfolk only numbered around five million, the sheer size and magnitude of this city made it seem like far more, especially as Vim could now see thousands of them swimming all at once.

  As Vim descended farther alongside the others, he found himself fascinated by the way in which the merfolk adapted their society to living below the ocean’s surface. For example, as they approached the Capitol building, they swam above entire communities with seagrass lawns and commercial areas where fish and other sea-based foods were actually cooked and boiled right out in the open using artificial thermal vents. These foods were then sold to civilian merfolk, many of whom looked upwards and pointed at Vim and his entourage.

  As they neared the grand Capitol building, which looked like eight large domes stacked around in a semicircle, Haisel gave him yet another pleading look. But it was unnecessary. Vim understood what was at stake here. But he also refused to be taken advantage of, which was why he was going to enter this situation with an attitude that suggested he was willing to walk—or in this case, swim away—from any deal he didn’t like.

  But we really do need them…

  True to their word, the Elves, aided in large part by High-Lord Oren, had somehow miraculously gotten all the races in Galterra to agree to readmit North Bastia into global trade—all but two. And those two races were the merfolk and the lizardmen. In order for the deal to be finalized, only one race could object, meaning two or more races were all it took to prevent any agreement from going forward. And as far as the lizardmen were concerned, they were never going to vote “yes” on humanity. The bitterness they held towards humans was ancient and everlasting, and from the classified history that only guild leaders knew, Vim was fairly sure it had to do with the two or three genocides that saw the lizardmen banished from South Bastia a very long time ago.

  And they really knew how to hold a grudge.

  So, no, the lizardmen weren’t even worth courting. The merfolk, on the other hand? Clearly, their only reason for holding things up was economic and opportunistic rather than moral. Vim was absolutely certain he could get them to a “yes.” That was why they were here, after all, having been invited to enter the city below the sea, something that was a rare honor even for the Orcs. King Maheeko would not have asked for this visit unless he clearly wanted to make a deal.

  The only question was: at what cost?

  Swimming over a large stone wall, Vim chuckled, blowing bubbles in the water as he found the existence of such a structure comical. For what purpose would they build a wall under the water? Cosmetic? He could see no other practical value to something that any ordinary level-1 merfolk could circumvent just by swimming. It was impractical and nonsensical. Regardless, it wasn’t worth his brain cells thinking about. But that was.

  Vim grinned as he stared at the shimmering, blue fin of the mermaid who was now swimming directly in front of him. Although they had that large, tail-like fin in place of legs, merfolk resembled humans from the face down to their pelvis, which meant a whole lot of mermaids swam around with irresistible, scantily-clad asses, as their tails emerged where a human’s thighs would begin. To accommodate this, they wore special garments that wrapped around the tail and the mermaid’s waist, creating something that looked superficially like a pair of panties, only extremely stretched on the bottom: kind of like a slingshot that had been pulled all the way back.

  Bathoonba came to a stop and turned around to face them. He gestured with his free hand. “Right this way, Sir Alazar, High-Lord Oren, Queen Vayra, Sir Ragora. Our esteemed king awaits.”

  Vim nodded and swam inside the center-most dome as trident-wielding warriors stood at attention on both sides. He could tell from the look in their eyes that they were eyeing him and his companions warily, and for this, he did not blame them. The last time humans had visited the City of the Sea Gods—somewhere around five hundred years ago—they had killed something like eighty-two thousand merfolk in a war over trade routes.

  The same thing I’m here to discuss.

  The Gnomes had also participated in that bit of ugliness. Come to think of it, the Gnomes and the Humans had historically aligned themselves in almost all conflicts, which was why it did not surprise Vim that the Gnomes had been the first race to forgive the humans for the acts of Peter IV. Unlike their cousins, the Dwarves, the Gnomes had frequently sided with Humans throughout history, and yet, for all their many, many, many victories together, both Humans and Gnomes were constantly struggling. It seemed that nothing won through war ever lasted.

  Still, it sure did beat losing.

  As Vim swam over a red-and-gold carpet inside of the grand, dome-shaped palace, he and the others were led to an elegant dining table covered by a fine, turquoise cloth with fancy plates and silverware prepared for them. Somehow, none of it floated up and off the surface, and Vim suspected there must be some use of magnets at play here or some other kind of clever, inventive trickery. As for himself, he struggled to get into a seated position. It was fucking hard to “sit down” in water. The best he could do was grab the bottom of the table, push himself down, and keep his hands where they were in order to avoid floating up and out of the decorative chair.

  “For our guests,” a mermaid in a serving uniform said, swimming over with a tray. “The king will be joining you very shortly. For now, please enjoy our hospitality.” She set the tray down onto the table and removed the top, causing several ball-shaped, bread-like delicacies to float up and out of the tray and into the water.

  Everyone reached for one—except for Vim. And for this, all three of them glared at him again. And even without being able to speak, he knew what they would say to him if they could: that he was being ungracious by not eating at least one, and that it disrespected the effort put into the meal.

  And maybe that was true. Maybe.

  But counterpoint? Who ate food while submerged beneath an ocean? If he opened his mouth and put food inside it, he would be eating salt water as well as whatever they were feeding him. The fact that he could even breathe at all was incredible. This was just disgusting and not at all the way he enjoyed his meals. Yet the way Alex and Fylwen were staring him down, he knew he had no choice but to relent.

  I can’t believe those two are even here, he thought.

  This was actually supposed to be a one-on-one meeting between him and King Maheeko, but Queen Vayra, High-Lord Alex Oren, and his own second-in-command, Senior-Lieutenant Haisel Ragora, did not trust him. They implored him to let them come along, and so they had bumped up their own scheduled visits to coincide with his in an effort to “rein in” his worst instincts.

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  Disgusted, Vim forced himself to consume one of the bready treats, and he swallowed just as a grey-bearded man with a shimmering purple fin and a gem-encrusted trident swam into the dining hall, accompanied by another eight royal guards. With him was an extraordinarily beautiful mermaid with flowing blonde hair and a fist-sized diamond around her neck. Vim was intrigued to see that even the queen herself only wore a thin, bra-like top, leaving little to the imagination.

  “Welcome, esteemed guests!” King Maheeko said in a powerful, booming voice. His tail paddling powerfully against the water, he acted the part of a showman and swam circles around the table again and again until a visible cyclone of water surrounded all of them. Queen Vayra smiled and clapped, and so too did Haisel and High-Lord Oren. Vim also clapped. No noise emerged, however, and why would it? They were underwater.

  “This is my lovely wife, Queen Magunda,” he said, gesturing to her.

  “Be welcome, guests of the merfolk,” she said. “We have eagerly awaited your arrival, and we look forward to the bounty our joint collaboration will bring. For merfolk, humans, and Galterra as a whole.”

  Taking a seat together at the head of the table, the king set his trident on the floor, face-up, and much like the table and its furnishings, it did not float but remained in place. He waved his hand. “Please, bring our guests some helmets so that we can engage in discussion. And my guests, I implore you: feel free to remove them whenever you feel like eating or drinking.”

  Vim, forgetting he couldn’t speak, asked, “Drinking?”

  But it came out, “Gluuur-blurblur?”

  The king chuckled in a friendly, sincere-sounding way, seeming to understand what he’d wanted to ask. “Yes, drinking,” he confirmed. “We may not have reached quite the level of technology as Humans and the Dwarves, but I assure you, here in the City of the Sea Gods, we have managed to invent straws and sealed containers.”

  Vim shrugged, then took a helmet provided to him off a serving tray that a beautiful mermaid held his way. He placed it over his head, and the mermaid helped strap it in and secure it. He had no problem doing it himself, but she had to brush up against him in order to assist him, so why not just let it happen?

  Now, concealed within the dark helmet, he felt a little judder as the mermaid assisting him flicked what he presumed to be an on-switch. And then he felt the water drain as it cleared the top of his face, then his nose, and finally his mouth; at the same time, an LED screen within the helmet flicked on, allowing him to see out of it in a way clear enough that it almost looked like he was staring through a window, but the illusion was ruined by a slight graininess from video compression.

  “Can you hear me?” he asked aloud.

  “I can, Sir Alazar,” King Maheeko said, a boisterous laugh following his words. “It is good to hear your voice.”

  “And me?” High-Lord Oren said next.

  “Testing,” Ragora added.

  Queen Vayra also spoke a few words to ensure that her voice was able to transmit. And now, with everyone able to communicate, Vim was eager to get things going. He was quickly becoming annoyed with having to exist in this space-like, zero-gravity environment. And though he found their city to be beautiful when viewed from above, it was also a bit too strange for him. There were, for example, little schools of fish casually swimming around this man’s dining hall. Would that not be the equivalent of having birds flying around his guild office back in Giant’s Fall? Or bugs? Or something unwanted?

  I’m glad I don’t have to live this way, he thought.

  Assuming a more professional pose, Vim folded his hands on the table. But then he began to float up and out of his seat, and so he once again had to grab the bottom of the table. Surprisingly, Haisel, Fylwen, and Alex had no such trouble remaining seated. How in the hell were they doing that? They’d better tell him after this was all said and done. This was infuriating.

  “So,” King Maheeko began, biting into a piece of boiled fish before speaking. “You have all come a long way for this meeting, for together, we stand on the verge of a momentous occasion, do we not? Given the approval of the merfolk, humanity—and now, the Elves—will be admitted into world trade. With my blessing, you will have the final seal of approval needed to proceed.”

  “That is correct,” Alex said, bowing his head. “And it stands to benefit not just us, but the entire world, too. Although humanity has suffered the most from our exile, it cannot be denied that all other races on Galterra have suffered as well. The loss of humanity as a trading partner is something that has caused economic downturns in every race.”

  The king pointed at him. “That’s correct, young man.”

  “A smart boy, that one,” the queen said, smiling at him. “Indeed, the merfolk have lost much since Peter IV’s actions caused humanity to be exiled. Least of all was one of our favorite treats. That…what was it called again, sweetheart?”

  “Chocolate,” the king said.

  “Yes, yes! Chocolate. I remember having that as a little girl.”

  Vim nodded. “Cocoa beans only grow in Faded Island. But if you allow us to proceed, I’ll personally ask Duchess Fiona Darkmae to expedite her product to the merfolk as a thank-you for helping us move beyond humanity’s past indiscretions.”

  The king laughed, loudly, his smile warm. “Oh! Sir Alazar, I would like that very much. Yes, that would indeed be appreciated.” Suddenly, his smile fell, and a much more shrewd, serious, and calculating look crossed his eyes. “Of course…for humanity to once again participate in global trade, the merfolk are going to need a little bit more than a few cocoa beans.”

  Here we go…

  “I suppose this is the part where you ask for a cut of our shipping profits?” Vim asked him. “You may as well come out with it, King Maheeko. You wouldn’t have brought us here unless that was your aim.”

  The smile returned to the merman’s face, only this time, it was sharper and colder. “I only seek a return to what is right and fair,” he explained. “The partnership that existed between human and merfolk was strong and enduring—and I’ve always regretted the abrupt way in which it ended.”

  “As have I,” Vim said. “Which is why I’ve come here today, willing to offer you a return to that very same partnership: exactly as it was before the reign of Peter IV.”

  “Exactly the same?”

  “Yep, exactly the same. A flat, ten-percent value of all shipped cargo paid in gold.”

  The king sat up straighter in his chair. Every few seconds, his tail paddled the water, and Vim grew uncomfortable by a prolonged silence that came upon the man. His wife, too, said little. The two of them simply watched Vim and the others while saying nothing. Were they expecting Vim to speak? Clearly, he was expecting them.

  Vim cleared his throat, the sound of it coming through the speakers on the helmet. “As I was saying, I stand ready to sign such an agreement immediately. I look forward to our—”

  “Ten percent is not going to cut it,” the king interjected, finally deciding to speak. “In fact, I find that number to be an insult. That’s not nearly enough.”

  Vim, confused but angry, slammed his hands down onto the table—or tried to at least. All he did was push himself out of the seat. He then glided upwards until his head bonked the ceiling, which sent him zipping right back down into his chair, where he bounced up again, having to grab the table to steady himself, but now in an upside-down position with his legs pointed above him. He tried to steady himself, but that only caused him to slam back-first onto the table and send various bits of fish and breaded treats floating all over the place.

  Then, for no reason that made any sense, that Gods-be-damned whale thing from earlier swam into the royal dining hall, coming right up to Vim. Upon reaching him, it turned itself around and put its big whale ass right near Vim’s face, and Vim began to urgently flap his arms to move in the opposite direction as it shat out two large brown pellets before swimming away, like it was personal or something.

  Witnessing this all, the king laughed at him. He laughed at him! Thankfully, Vim was able to control his temper and react like an adult.

  Actually, no. That was a complete lie.

  “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THAT’S NOT ENOUGH, YOU FUCKING FISH-BRAINED FREAK!” he yelled as he pushed himself back down into his chair, using the underside of the table to hold himself in place.

  “S-Sir Alazar!” Haisel hissed.

  “Sir Alazar, please. Do not speak that way to him,” implored High-Lord Oren.

  “Here we go again,” Queen Vayra muttered as she briefly raised her helmet and sipped at wine through a straw.

  “Do not worry yourselves,” the king said. “I’m quite familiar with Vim’s antics. Like I said, the merfolk are behind on technology, but we do have viewing screens at the very least. In truth, I expected our guest to be a little perturbed.”

  “Perturbed?” Vim snapped. “Perturbed doesn’t begin to describe it. Here I come, in good faith, offering you a deal that you don’t even deserve for the sake of smoothing things over, and what do you do? You ask for more!”

  At this, the king frowned; not at the initial insult or using the racially loaded word “fish,” but at this comment in particular. His voice dropped, both in volume and in pitch, but not in power. “And why, exactly, do we not deserve our fair share?” He gestured with his hands, extending his arms widely. “Do you not require the crossing of our territory in order to move goods? If the merfolk needed to travel across Giant’s Fall or Spider’s Eye Oasis in the course of doing business, would that not require payment?”

  Vim snorted. “We don’t cross your territory. We never have! The original deal between humans and merfolk only came into existence because of all the piracy. We were essentially paying you to leave us alone.”

  Nothing Vim said was a lie. Both humans and merfolk had history books that agreed and told the story in the exact same way: that for hundreds of years, merfolk pirates would attack human ships and steal a portion of the cargo, and eventually, a deal was struck: ten percent in exchange for safe passage. But the idea that humans were treading on their territory was, on the face of it, ridiculous. And it was this very point that the king now addressed.

  “The sea is our territory,” he said. “No one disputes this. Not even the humans.”

  “Correct,” Vim agreed. “But when we move cargo, we travel over the seas, not below it.”

  “That’s still their territory,” Alex said, cutting in. “Sir Alazar, I understand your point of view on this, but the intercontinental oceans are recognized by the global community as belonging to the merfolk.”

  Vim folded his arms—then again had to grab the table as he started to float up. “I don’t agree. But it doesn’t matter what I think about that, does it? No, what matters is how absurd the king’s position is. Ten percent is more than fair. Any more and we’re being abused.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the king replied. “We aren’t asking for much more. Twenty percent of the value of the cargo.”

  “Twenty percent?” Vim exclaimed. “Do you not understand how this works? The value of the shipment is separate from the profit my people earn as couriers. If we ship diamonds, we get paid only slightly more than if we ship planks of wood. Yes, we charge a small, sliding-scale fee that increases with shipment value, but for the most part, we charge a reasonable fee for shipping most items. Not only that, but we’re also incurring major costs in rebuilding the ports in Shadowfall Coast and getting them operational. Then there are side deals we’ve made with the other guilds. When all is said and done, it’s not even worth it for us to be in global trade. Might as well just go back to isolationism if that’s how you’re going to treat us.”

  Vim was lying, of course. Even at twenty percent, his people would thrive from the sheer volume of cargo they’d be moving once North Bastians got their foot back in the door. Humans made a whole lot of stuff that people liked, and Vim knew that the other races were eager to trade for human products once again.

  Still, twenty percent is outrageous, he thought angrily. These fish are trying to fuck us!

  Another stretch of quiet settled over the table, during which the ambient sound of water and the occasional whisper of a mermaid servant became the only noticeable noise. But then, with a shake of his head, the king said, “We need twenty percent. I cannot take less than that. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  Vim tightened his grip on the bottom of the table. He tried to think. And at once, an idea came to him. “You would be incurring the wrath of the Gods if you forced us to pay that,” he said.

  “The Gods?” both the king and his wife, the queen, asked in unison.

  “Surely you’ve heard by now,” Vim said. “The Elvish Gods are real, and I’ve communed with two of them myself. If you continue on this greedy, treacherous path, then I shall personally ask the Great Goddess, Eilea Vayra, to—”

  “Not another word!” Queen Vayra barked out, her tone so heated it threatened to boil the water around them. Vim immediately fell silent, cowed by the sheer intensity in her eyes. To King Maheeko, she said, “Ignore every word of what Sir Alazar has just told you. The Gods wish nothing but impartiality and fairness upon us, and they would not dare intervene in a trade dispute.”

  Vim scowled at her for giving away his leverage, and she scowled right back. “Do not ever think to use the Great Goddess or any of our Gods in such a way! I will not stand for it! That’s interference!”

  She put such emphasis on the word “interference” that it almost sounded like it was some kind of holy word—like it was sacred to her. It was both daunting and confusing to Vim, but he decided not to prod any further. Instead, he tried a completely separate track. He tried appealing to the king’s sense of compassion, but that failed. Then he tried to find a middle ground, such as 15 percent. But when that failed, too, he insulted the king’s mother and implied that she had sex with an irradiated tuna, which explained why the king’s tail glowed.

  The king didn’t seem to take offense. He actually laughed and said that was a “good one.” It seemed that only matters of substance angered him, such as casting doubt on the merfolk’s territorial integrity and their right to the oceans.

  Finally, however, the impasse came to an end when High-Lord Alex Oren chimed in with a solution. “While I realize this is a matter between the Royal Roses and the Merfolk, I believe I have an idea that both sides would find agreeable.”

  Vim looked at him, and so too did the king. “Go on,” King Maheeko said.

  Alex nodded politely, then continued. “Right now, North Bastia is in a bad state. We had a vicious war last year that saw untold destruction. As I’m sure you’re aware, our shipping ports were destroyed, and the city of Ogre’s Axe was leveled by an atomic bomb.”

  The king visibly cringed, but then his face softened sympathetically. “I did hear about that. Who hasn’t? Such a terrible tragedy. Sir Alazar, for that, you have my condolences. To you and your people. I won’t rub salt in the wound by lambasting humanity for creating such a gross, unfathomably twisted weapon, but yes, I’m aware of the situation.” To Alex, he said, “Go on.”

  Once more, Alex nodded. “Ten percent right now will bring a lot of pain for the Royal Roses and the people of Giant’s Fall in particular, and for those in Shadowfall Coast, things are also not great. Though their city was spared total annihilation, over a hundred thousand lives were lost, many of them civilians, and so we’re in bad shape right now.”

  “So what do you propose, High-Lord Oren?”

  “How about you two agree on the twenty percent rate, but you begin at ten, increasing half a percent per year for twenty years. This way, the Royal Roses can use the extra money to rebuild. After all, the more they ship, the more you make. It’s a win-win.”

  Vim sighed. “I can live with that.”

  “I can as well,” said the king.

  With hope and optimism in his voice, Alex asked, “So, then, do we have a deal? Can humanity finally move beyond Peter IV and into the future?”

  King Maheeko smiled. “Starting today, I believe you can.”