The Gamer Chapter 1663 – Best Man 3 – Random Encounters (Patreon)

‘Wonder who that was,’ John thought as he walked back into the building. ‘I could still check…’ All it would take was for him to turn around and use Observe. He could just check out the passive window too. ‘Bad manners,’ he reminded himself. He had one too many talking tos about respecting privacy to observe a woman he randomly ran into while roaming the palace.

A dreamy sigh pulled his attention aside. “You really are the perfect man, Master,” Aclysia said, waiting for him at the end of the corridor. She had a fresh glass of water ready for him. “Opportune, charismatic, shapely, well-spoken, wise – perfect.”

John took it and sipped. For a moment, he tried to decipher what spurred her on to say that at this particular moment. There were too many potential reasons to narrow it down, so he just accepted the compliment with a smile. “And you are the best, Aclysia,” he responded in kind, then kissed her while the mint was still fresh on his tongue. “Did you get what you were looking for?”

“Everything and more,” she swooned and hummed a little tune.

It was rare to catch Aclysia in a mood this good at a public event. Had there been more space, he would have put an arm around her as they walked back into the main hall. Instead, he had her follow a half-step behind. As a maid, she took to that position naturally.

The Gamer did not know quite where to head next. Going back the way he came would be awkward, when he had made such a smooth exit. Therefore, there was only forward. One direction was off because he was already there in his third body. His second was somewhere else entirely. John therefore decided to just walk and see if he bumped into somebody.

Before John knew it, he was face to face with Osman.

The prince of the Great Sultanate seemed as surprised at having run into John as the reverse. The two men first looked at each other, then their respective companion. A woman was following a half-step behind Osman. She was of dark skin, too dark to make her Arabian and yet not dark enough for Africa proper. If the Gamer had to warrant a guess, she likely was the result of a romance between someone from northern Egypt and a Nubian, but that was him spinning tales in his head.

John recovered first from the sudden encounter. “Prince Osman,” he greeted and extended his hand.

“John,” he greeted in return.

“President – John,” Aclysia hissed behind.

“You put my first maid in a bad mood,” John added, more annoyed about that than the blatant disrespect.

“I don’t feel like using your pretentious title,” the Middle Eastern royal responded. “Perhaps once you decide on something that is not blatantly false.”

“Prince…” the woman behind him carefully raised her voice, earning herself a reprimanding glance. After a short gesture, she stepped up to him and whispered into his ear. Her hand was in the way of John reading her lips. A ring on her finger emitted an obstructing, subtle sound that made listening in equally impossible.

Osman exhaled sharply. Once she finished, he straightened up again. The shorter man glared at John for several seconds. “I respect your power and your accomplishments, John Newman,” he said, sincerely and yet half-hearted. “However, as I see it, your wish to be a new force in the Abyss makes you disregard too much of what works in favour of your mundane perspective.”

“That is a criticism you can have of me,” John gave on the point with a shrug. “One of mine insists that she will be proven right on the matter in due time.”

“Then she is wise, Metracana Metra, I assume?”

John raised an eyebrow and Osman took a smiling sip from his glass. “I would credit my spymaster for this, had he been to thank for this. I simply talked to her when we first met, at that fancy gathering of yours to celebrate the second year of your guild. You let your women talk a lot.”

“I prefer it that way,” the Gamer answered plainly. “As do they. A liberation that would likely be appreciated in your own country.”

“…Women cannot be trusted with real power,” Osman said very slowly, turning his head to glance at one of the several people that had taken an observational interest in their conversation.

John got the message. “I’m growing quite weary of standing. If we want to continue this conversation, perhaps we can move it somewhere with seats?”

“A splendid suggestion, John.”

There was one point John had to make while he was still in public. “If you will not respect my title, you either will have to let me drop yours or find yourself at the receiving end of my ire.”

A glacial chill underlined his words. An ice flower bloomed from Aclysia’s feet outwards. “Please pick the second.”

“…Fine, call me Osman.”

With that resolved in public, John was happy to take the conversation to the backrooms that Maximillian had initially mentioned. They found themselves a greatly decorated chamber with two chairs inside it, a round table between them. Osman threw the Gamer a much saying glance when the two of them sat down, while the accompanying ladies stood diagonally opposed behind their chairs.

“It’s not because she’s a woman, it’s because Aclysia is Aclysia,” the Gamer countered the unspoken argument. “I’m going to be charitable, though, and assume that what you just said out in public is not your complete stance?”

Osman let out a long sigh. “My father is quite adamant on his personal views being reflected by his subordinates. To assure a smooth succession, I must bite my tongue.”

“Yet you entrust me with that secret?”

“Your adversarial stance to my realm has its benefits. No one would take your word over mine. You’re an outsider.” Osman turned to his concubine, or whatever she was. “Be a dear and get us some snacks, Ulana.”

Without a word spoken, she bowed, then set into motion. “I shall accompany her,” Aclysia stated, the distrust plain in her voice.

That left the two of them alone in the room. John’s finger traced over the rim of the table. “Now I’ve heard that you have reasons not to disagree with the sultan in public, but I haven’t actually heard your opinion on the matter.”

“Most people cannot be trusted with power,” Osman stated boldly. “Of those few people that can, most are men.”

John nodded in understanding. It wasn’t a viewpoint he shared, only one he could trace in its logic. That men and women were different was apparent to everyone and that those differences manifested in an on-average variation on typical character traits was easily calculated across cultures. To hold the opinion on that basis that it was more often than not men who were suitable for office was at least understandable. Most people throughout most of history had held to that standard. There had to be something to it.

Just because there was some truth to something did not mean that it should be accepted dogmatically though.

“You disagree,” Osman observed the obvious.

“I’m not convinced,” the Gamer put it more definitively. “It could be true.”

“It is true for the Great Sultanate. Women in our society are primarily submissive. Exceptions are few.”

“Yes, because you surround the women with a culture where that is demanded of them.”

“They are happier that way.”

“Perhaps.”

Osman tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You’re a strange one to have a debate with, John.”

“I’m not having a debate,” John answered and reclined as much as the wooden chair allowed him to. “I know I won’t change your mind and there’s no audience for us to perform for. I’m learning who you are and why you think what you think. I have no ideological commitment to either side in this debate. I’m deeply disapproving of any law that restricts individuals access to anything yet I am also deeply disapproving of a culture that would not admit to reality.”

“That reality being?”

“That you give different people in different situations and with different temperament different advice and treat them with different expectations,” John stated simply. “I know that your patriarchal society imposes a fair share of cultural demands on the men as well – such as dying in war. I’m giving your argument its due. Can you do the same for mine?”

Osman’s answer was halted by the return of the two women. A platter of bite-sized cream cheese spreads was placed on the table. “Thank you very much.” He smiled at his company, who shot a faint, feminine smile back. Then, the prince turned back to John. “You believe that holding a prejudice towards someone on the basis of anything decided by birth is unproductive.”

John considered that formulation for a moment. “Close enough, but I would appreciate it if you hit it on the head.”

Annoyed at the rebuttal, Osman rubbed the lower half of his face. Ulana presented him with one of the snacks and he took it straight off her. The motion felt stilted to John. There was respect between the two of them, that much was clear. Ulana beheld Osman like a servant did their superior and Osman respected her like a royal did the caretakers of their household.

“You believe that holding onto a prejudice as the primary decision maker is unproductive – no, unwise.”

“There we go,” John said with a growing smile.

“Do not patronize me,” Osman warned.

The Gamer bit back the next cheeky comment. Instead, he asked, “Do you find that position unreasonable?”

“I find it unworkable on a large scale. You must have met the average person and realized that half of the people under you are dumber than that.”

“That’s not how math works, unless you somehow have found the absolute average person.” John grabbed five pieces of the snacks from the platter. One had very little topping, another too much for the amount of bread, the other three were basically the same. “The average is a spread onto itself and it’s where most people reside. The meaningfully dumber are probably closer to 20% of the population.” He grabbed one of the pieces and threw it in his mouth.

“That doesn’t detract from my point.”

“I rather think it does,” John answered. “Although that comes down to me having a higher regard for the average person than you do. I think most people can have an open mind.”

“An open mind is a fortress unguarded.”

“Maybe, but a closed mind is a body of stagnant water.” The Gamer rolled his neck. “I would say we agree more than we disagree though. You would loosen up the rigidness of your guild’s culture, would you not?”

“As said initially, I have met enough women able to take charge in my day. It’s unnecessary to restrict them all based on their sex.”

John’s gaze moved to Ulana. “What do you think about this?”

“I’m with Prince Osman on this,” she stated plainly. “The liberation you speak of offers men little and I prefer to live in a country where they are rewarded for offering their time, labour and life for our safety.”

The unsurprising answer. It would have been arrogant to believe that all women in a patriarchal system were unhappy with it, especially one that cast its net so wide. Throughout history, anything that actively suppressed women was typically restricted to the upper classes. Peasants and average citizens rarely had the reasons or means to do so, and if they did, John would not believe that it would work for long.

It was actually rather hard to suppress half of the population – especially in the Abyss.

“Excuse the pivot, but what does the Great Sultanate do with anyone with a powerful Innate Ability that happens to be female at the moment?” John asked.

Osman’s expression darkened. “Nothing that I condone.”

John’s eyes widened in shock. He had expected it to be bad, but so bad that the prince did not even want to share details? Morbid curiosity urged him to ask, an emotion he beat down. “Even if we disagree on how far this liberalization should go, I do respect that you wish to do it at all.”

“I’m merely observing that my father is a stubborn old fool, too set in his ways to allow our realm the greatness it deserves.” Osman began to rant, “Women can’t use whatever gift they were bestowed with and men that are blessed with talents seen as womanly are pressed into an army that leads futile expeditions into Akkad. Hundreds of craftsman die every year because they were made to hold a pike.” The prince bit his tongue, to regain his control. “Even if I think you are letting the common rabble go too far with their individuality, I do acknowledge that you have common sense.”

“There are limits to the utility of everything. I’m wise enough to know that, even if I’m not quite wise enough to know where those lines are exactly – if the line even exists in a static place. I heavily doubt that.”

Osman nodded to that. His fingers danced around on the edge of the table. “Would you be interested in a friendship?”

The question caught John off-guard. “You can at least buy me dinner first,” he joked.

Osman snorted, between derision and actual amusement. “I’m not Greek. Listen, I will need allies. I’m moving carefully so my father does not back any of my siblings with resources that may be enough to overcome my individual power. Even with all my precautions, the golden path for the Great Sultanate is narrow. My ascension to the throne is inevitable, but I inherit a realm up to the neck in the waters of a mire that the patriarchs self-servingly believe to be a clean pool.”

The Gamer considered the question carefully. He disliked much about Osman. Differences in beliefs aside, which were still significant even if they could see eye to eye on them, he did not care much for the man personally. He was rude, arrogant, and entitled. The same could be said about John himself and about Maximillian. On a personal level, John could see himself forming a friendship with the man.

Then there was the political dimension to consider. The Great Sultanate was the direct rival of Prometheus, who Fusion had a good relationship with. Prometheus, who was likely to fall to Remus.

“You’re considering if you can play both sides of the Bosporus,” Osman commented.

“My Master has more on his mind than you can fathom,” Aclysia weighed in.

“Are we not beyond the frostiness by this point?”

Aclysia almost snarled when she answered with, “No.”

‘God, I love this woman,’ the Gamer thought and noted the clearly annoyed glare that Osman regarded Aclysia with. Whether this was because she was a servant or a woman speaking out of turn wasn’t clear, although John leaned towards both. Osman was still a product of his environment.

“Well?” Osman pressed the Gamer.

“I have no answer for you right now,” he answered. “What do you think this friendship would consist of anyhow?”

“Communication, shared projects, maybe the exchange of brides or grooms down the line,” Osman listed with a shrug. “The standard politics.”

John nodded. “I will consider.”

“Then I won’t take any more of your time,” Osman answered and got up. “I will see you around.”

Swiftly, the prince left the room, companion in row. Aclysia circled around the table and considered sitting down in the chair he had been in. She did so. “Are you going to accept his offer?” she asked, just to hear John speak his thoughts.

“I am contemplating it, but I think Osman may be either a high-functioning sociopath or at least a mild one.” The Gamer grabbed one of the snacks. “I’ve seen him with several women, but I’ve never seen him in a state that I would call ‘emotionally attached’. He seems to treat modernization of the Great Sultanate more as a necessary move on the chessboard than a matter of moral necessity. It’s fine to play politics that way.” He tossed the snack into his mouth and chewed on it. “But I don’t like it.”

“If you don’t like him, then you should not engage with him.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“You’re making it not that simple, Master. The ‘Great’ Sultanate is, with all due respect, the least of our worries.”

John wasn’t sure if that would be true forever.