Lewd Dungeon, Chapter 210 (Patreon)

Chapter 210 – A Fair Deal

The pleasure of taking desperate people and bending them over to take them for everything they were worth was even more exquisite when those people were ones that had made themselves your enemies.

Each of the ten temple-ships held roughly two thousand, four hundred people. Basically, putting them at roughly the complement of a battleship on Earth. That was a lot of people rapidly running out of air. Oh, they had emergency, nonmagical life support systems, but they were only good for an extra twelve hours or so, if everyone stayed calm, and no leaks emerged. Maybe longer, if someone found a way to keep them going, or they turned off the heat to extend the fuel supply, but that was it.

So, I had them over the barrel, and they knew it. The question was how hard I wanted to push things. I could simply wait them out, and let the people suffocate and die, before claiming their empty ships as my own, but that was a fool’s gambit, for a number of reasons, but they all came back to a single realization. Namely, the fact that I was bound by the Dungeon Laws keeping these ships grounded as much as their crews were.

See, the thing keeping the ships powerless was the fact that they were filled with Pofmisians. If they left, then the ships would start working again, and if I wasn’t in control, someone might try and swipe them from me. Same thing if I sent my creatures to invade the ships. The moment the number of Pofmisians dropped to less than 50% of the complement, the ships would activate again, along with whatever internal defenses they had.

And that wasn’t even counting the idea that the ships still in orbit of the moon might not decide to blast the grounded ships into rubble the moment they were no longer subject to the dungeon laws. If I pushed hard enough that the crews chose death over the dishonor of agreeing to my terms, then whoever was left in charge up above could very well decide to destroy the ships to spite me. And I didn’t want that. Those ships were going to get my name spread to every corner of the fucking globe!

So, I couldn’t push too hard. I had to give them terms that they could accept. Speaking through the Crusader-Champion’s banshee body, I negotiated with the fleet’s leader, and we eventually came to a deal that, while painful and distasteful to them, was something they could at least live with.

The price was simple enough, in the end. I kept the ten downed ships and the Church released any claim or connection they had to those ships, as well as the shuttles on the ground outside Swamptown, and then I would transport the ships’ crews to someplace on the edge of my territory, where the crews could then be picked up by their people, after which their remaining ships would immediately depart. In return, all members of the Church of Pofmis who were not born in Sol System would be banned by the System itself from willingly entering the system for the next hundred Galactic Standard Years (or two Earth centuries). Otherwise, I didn’t put any binding on them.

Some would no doubt ask why I didn’t try harder to humiliate them on their way out the door, but I didn’t need to do that. I had already broadcast the Crusader-Champion’s downfall and my heretical image everywhere the System would let me. The fleet returning without ten of their ships would be noticed, and the crews would talk.

That talk, and the images they’d already seen, would spread discontent in the Pofmisian church. Zealots often rubbed people the wrong way, even within their own organization. With this kind of brutal slap in the face, the freedom zealots would likely be facing increased pressures from without and within. And, if my plan to spread my faith through different dungeons bore fruit, then the Anathema and Dungeon Foe titles they’d all have would make adventurers question whether they should keep following Pofmis, or risk their very livelihood.

See, being effectively immortal meant that I could afford to play the long game. These people would be my new weapon against Pofmis, forcing her and her church to deal with other things, while I built up my strength. That way, when the time was up, I would be strong enough to fend off her forces when they came back, without relying on dungeon laws. At least, that was the idea.

The crews accepted, not that they had much choice. But that just left the issue of me getting them out of my territory. In each fallen ship, I opened a portal. The Pofmisians ran through, one at a time. The other side of the portal was situated half and inch from the edge of my influence, so with just a bit of forward momentum, the Pofmisians made it to safety with less than a second of exposure. Not pleasant, but not enough to kill them. And once they were out of my influence, their magic items made sure they stayed alive until their friends came and picked them up off the moon’s surface.

Once that was done, things began to progress on my next trick. With the connection to Pofmis cut, I could send my minions into the shuttles outside Swamptown, and let them fly the shuttles someplace safe. Lieutenant Grant had talked with his superiors, and someone in the chain of command must have had a good head on their shoulders, or else they had aspirations of a political career after military life, because they agreed to splitting the shuttles as I suggested, with four each going to the members of permanent members of the UN Security Council, plus Germany and Japan. All of it televised, with the US very publicly declaring that they were giving these shuttles freely, so that the entire world might benefit from the advanced technologies they held.

Suffice to say, the news rocked the world, and the name of Lord Kuronoth got bandied about quite a bit. That, on top of the stream of the first public dive of the only dungeon on the moon, had people looking to space again, in a really big way. Travel to the moon through my portals suddenly became a prized commodity. The fact that astronomers on Earth could clearly see the ten golden Temple-Ships left behind with their telescopes only added to the buzz.

Since the Temple-Ships were officially mine, instead of being part of the deal I’d worked out with the shuttles, I needed to make my move there, before anyone started getting handsy, and thinking they could use the shuttles to pick up one or more of the ‘abandoned’ ships. Best way to prevent someone from taking cookies was to put the cookie jar out of reach, after all. So, I set about doing just that.

I had my minions go out and begin preparing a ritual, like the one that had been done to claim the bounty hunters’ ship. Obviously, the whole bit about vacuum on the moon made the mechanics of the ritual different, but that was easy enough to take care of. The key was in supplying the people, and mana, for the task. Fortunately, I had plenty of both, so it only took another three weeks to convert the ships, one by one, from golden pyramids to onyx ones, and have the main shrine be reconsecrated to me, with a core spike planted in each shrine, so I could manifest directly on the ships, if needed.

But, obviously, I didn’t need a fleet of battleships, which is what the Temple-Ships effectively were. Even if I could crew them, what the hell would I do with them? Plus, that put me far too much in the ‘running the world’ category for my tastes. If I wanted to run things, I’d have entered politics. I just wanted to indulge myself.

So, I decided that I would make some deals. The shuttle deal had more people coming to my metaphorical doorstep, trying to get things from me. The countries that got shuttles quickly got consulates in Miami, if they didn’t have them already, for easier access to me. So, I got them, and a couple others, to meet me at the Miami Adventurer’s Guild, with Miguel as the host.

We were close enough to the shard that I could manifest myself directly, rather than acting through a spokesman, so I took on a less confrontational version of my typical demonic avatar, sitting at a table with Miguel, and representatives from the US, UK, Russia, China, France, Germany, Japan, South Africa, and Columbia. The last two might have seemed random, but they had official offices in Miami, and they consented to meet me. Further, with their inclusion, I could say that each of the UN Regional Groups were represented in this meeting.

Miguel, as the host, introduced me, though we all knew that no one in this room really needed to be told who I was. Looking at the delegates, I smiled. They were going to both love and hate me for what I was about to do.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you are all just as busy as I am, if not more so, so I will not waste your time with frivolities and useless small talk. As I know you are all aware, I have recently come into possession of a great deal of alien hardware, in the form of ten ships formerly belonging to a rival who arrogantly overstepped their bounds, and was punished for it. These ships are known as Temple-Ships, but what they actually are would be warships, on par with battleships, and they are fully armed.”

I held up a hand to silence the predictable outcry, and continued. “However, I do not need a fleet of warships, and I do not want a fleet of warships. The essential technologies I have already claimed copies of, and given over to my dungeon, and so I have no use for the ships as they are now. And so, I have brought you all here to offer you a deal.”

The representative from South Africa was the quickest to catch on. Leaning forward, she said “You’re going to give away the ships, like you did the shuttles, aren’t you? Giving them to those of us here.”

I nodded once. “Selling them, actually, but I think you’ll find my terms quite reasonable.”

Whistling softly, the Columbian representative leaned forward, and said, “Most impressive, Señor Kuronoth. But, why am I, and the lady from South Africa here? You gave the shuttles to the Security Council, plus two of the stronger countries. Not to disparage my own country unnecessarily, but I do not think you would have a need for any of our exports, official or criminal.”

“You are here because you agreed to come, and because with your presence, every Regional Group in the UN is represented. Now, we all know that the UN is dysfunctional at the best of times, but it is the closest to a global government that the world has, and I have no interest in seeing World War III start. I happen to have a lot of stuff here, and I would hate to see it blown up.

“So, with that in mind, I would propose a contract selling nine of the ten ships to you indefinitely, and the tenth sold to the United Nations as a whole. This contract would be binding through the System, so that neither side may shirk or disregard it. Naturally, I will provide the full text of the license agreement to you, for your lawyers to review.

“Now, the terms of the sale are simple enough. First, that these ships not be used against any nations or states on Earth or its eventual colonies, but instead be used to increase the world’s knowledge of science and magic, and be the first line of defense, should anyone decide that the new kids on the block have something shiny, and decide to take it. I don’t think anyone wants to see a new arms race devolving into a second Cold War, right?”

There were some nods, so I continued. “Second, that these ships not be used against any dungeon on Earth, or their subordinate or allied dungeons elsewhere. I am, naturally, not keen to have someone lease weapons from me, and then turn them against the dungeon I manage, or other dungeons on Earth.”

Seeing no objections, I continued. “Third, that the central shrine aboard each ship remain consecrated to me, and be maintained by one of my priests. Where possible, the priest will be a member of your nation’s Chaplain corps, or its equivalent, but in situations where that is not possible, I will supply one of my own to tend the shrine.”

The American representative raised her hand. “Will they be actively promoting your faith?”

I shook my head. “No more so than a military chaplain promotes theirs. They will not be actively proselytizing, and they will offer their services to those of all faiths, but they will not turn any away who wish to know more, or who seek guidance.”

The American nodded, so I went on. “And, finally, to satisfy some System-based requirements for my dungeon, I will need ten individuals to be sent to my dungeon for each ship offered. They should be those who are either condemned to life in prison or death, who have exhausted their appeals, or volunteers. And, before you ask, if prisoners come from areas that do not allow capital punishment, I can arrange for them to be kept alive.”

I held up my hand again for silence. “Unfortunately, that item ironclad. Free trade between a dungeon and the outside world, even through an intermediary, is not exactly encouraged, so a price must be paid. But, in return for these modest requirements, you’ll gain access to warships that will advance your technology by leaps and bounds.”

I let them think on that for a second. Technically, none of what I said was a lie, though I may have glossed over a few things. And it was certainly a modest price, from their point of view, but I stood to gain far more in the long run. Selling the ships would mean that the ships would not register as part of my dungeon, preserving my anonymity for a while. And it would get my priests in a position to influence individuals from all around the world. Possibly further. It was a fair deal for them, and a great one for me.

“So, do we have a deal?”