The Gamer Chapter 1064 – Christmas Friends 3 – A series of small talks (Patreon)

“Do I have to?” John asked, looking at the offered cigarette.

“You don’t have to, no,” Ahanu relented with a smile and pulled his hand back. The cigarette quickly wandered back into the pocket of the chieftain’s pants. The dark-haired young man ignited the wooden pipe for his own use, using a match. Of the powerful young men around, he was the most average looking, with a long face and comparatively low height. Wrapped around his head, he wore a leather band that sported a singular feather. It was the only remotely tribal part of his otherwise casual, modern outfit. “I just thought it would be proper manners.”

“Whenever I try smoking, I feel like scratching the tar out of my throat afterwards,” John responded. “The ritualistic mix you had me inhale when the Hidden Tradition joined Fusion was the worst of all. What even was in there?”

“Too much to list and many things we wouldn’t just tell a foreigner,” Ahanu responded with a smile.

“I’m your president, may I remind you,” the Gamer’s voice reflected the same good-natured banter, “I know that is easy to forget, rarely as you are in the capital.”

Despite having a seat in the House of Exceptionals, Ahanu spent the majority of his days back in the Appalachians. There he was chieftain, an honorable position elected from the tribal leaders, which made him the primary negotiator in most things internal and external. Although that wasn’t an official position, it did go against the spirit of John’s declaration that nobody should hold two different positions of power. That he let it pass was both a favour he let the Hidden Tradition have because they had enabled Fusion to survive in the aftermath of the Maryland war and because, in realistic terms, there was nothing to be done about Ahanu’s position.

In any system of governance, the person with the most power was rarely the one that was actually invested with the most of it. Instead, it was the one that had access to the most connections, resources, and time that typically dictated the path forwards. In Abyssal politics, the question of personal might also joined that calculation.

While John was actually the person with the most political power in the federal government, the member states’ leaders weren’t that clear cut. In the Amaca Coast, the economic class still held an incredible sway over affairs. They had deliberately disengaged from being the direct rulers, for reasons of their own safety from rebellion and to lift the administrative burden from their companies, but money still spoke volumes. The North Lake state still had a ‘might makes right’ culture and therefore the elected officials were only respected to the degree that they could back up their words personally. The Maryland had adopted John’s prescribed design of a government, but their public officials were still largely the same as they were in the Abraham days. To say that the civil service had the true power in that state would have been largely accurate. Similarly, although Florida had elected their own governor, if push came to shove, the people there would look to Wendy and others of the elite to solve the issues.

This was because, in real politics, people didn’t trust those they had recently elected and the recently elected had to get used to the internal power structures before they could get anything done. Both required time to amend and so the officials that had the experience to navigate (or influence to bypass) the system wielded outsized power, supported by a public who liked having a known element to rely on.

“I may stop being here all together soon,” Ahanu confessed, taking a huff from his pipe. “It is likely that I’ll get recalled in order to concentrate more on our internal affairs.”

‘Well, at least that’d be more in line with my outlined principles,’ John thought. “Guess we’ll get to talk even less then.” The Gamer leaned back in his chair and sighed. “A shame.”

“A shame,” Ahanu echoed, after slowly blowing the smoke out of his lungs. “If either of us had less obligations, perhaps we could become great friends.”

“We could,” the Gamer agreed and got himself a beer from the nearby fridge. They were in one of the red decorated rooms, sitting on a circular ebon wood table. Although the door was empty, inviting anyone to join them, they were alone at the moment. Just a happenstance that had evolved. “We can at least be good friends, I would say,” John said and offered a second beer.

“I’d like that.” Ahanu smiled.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­______________________________________________________________________________

“Horace!” John greeted the brawny, scarred man enthusiastically. He met him randomly, by himself, in one of the corridors.

The man had come a long way since he and John had first interacted. Back then, the level 70 fighter had looked intimidated whenever the two interacted in any capacity. The reaction was easy to understand, his entire world had been expanded in a way that had demoted him from the biggest fish in a small pond to an above average fish in a massive one. Needing time to adjust was only natural.

Initially, John had used Horace’s connections to other small fry guilds in the area as a means to an end, but the man proved to be more skilled in administrative manners than anyone, including himself, would have believed.

“Mister President.” Horace lowered his head respectfully.

“Please, you’re my guest, call me John,” the Gamer insisted. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk earlier. I wanted to compliment you on your recent initiatives. The internal development proposal you’re working on is highly ambitious. More importantly, it’s highly competent.”

The older man seemed to grow several centimetres at the series of compliments. “Thank you, John. I can’t take all of the credit though.”

“Of course not, nobody can ever take all of the credit for anything.” John put an arm around the man, making the two of them walk together. Once they were in motion, the Gamer let go and continued, “My personal compliments to the entire team. Recognizing that we won’t be able to produce the necessary IBMAs to create a capital in the Meltpot area in over a year was prime realism. Going from there and creating an infrastructure plan that relies on easily upkept Protected Spaces that can later be expanded is a splendid move forward. It’s going to take years, perhaps even decades, to pay off, but you still went ahead.”

“As they say: ‘Civilisations become great when old men plant trees in whose shade they will never sit’,” Horace quoted.

“Well, not sure how true that is for us long-lived people,” John laughed.

Only smiling softly, the brawny men responded, “With all due respect, John, you will outlive me by thousands of years. The two of us having a conversation about longevity is like a cat and a tortoise talking about a jellyfish.”

“Crude, but accurate,” the Gamer relented the point. “You’ve educated yourself quite a bit.”

“There’s a lot of time to read when half the day is spent travelling.”

“Let’s hope that will be a thing of the past relatively soon,” the Gamer hummed.

Horace tilted his shaven head. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing I can quite disclose yet, it may fall through after all.” John kept things mysterious. “On a different topic, I would like to put you in contact with some media people about having a documentary made about you.”

“Me?” Horace sounded honestly taken aback.

“Absolutely,” John put a warm smile on his face, “you’re a success story. Someone who excelled in the old order and in the new. Your programs bring wealth to local areas without the need of the federal government’s aid. A true example of what Fusion politicians should strive to be.”

“…I’m interested,” Horace agreed.

______________________________________________________________________

“What a fascinating structure,” the black-scaled lizardman, Dramar’s humanoid avatar, said while walking around the Guild Heart. Several rings of gold rotated around a glowing blue sphere that was itself several metres across. Below was an oval socket, a sparkling metal shape in the otherwise plain stone room, giving the floor the appearance of a stylized eye.

Together with the owner of the Abyss Auction and John were Aclysia, Beatrice and Metra. Revealing the central source and distribution mechanism of the Guild Hall’s mana flow to the dragon was a sign of trust that John took cautiously. The two had a deal, but it was to both of their benefit and therefore required fairly little in the way of honour on either side.

“I’m pleased that you showed me this.” The black dragon redirected his eyes to John. If he took offense with the bodyguards, he didn’t show it. More than likely, the owner of the Abyss Auction understood that precautions like this were healthy.

“A sign of a working relationship,” John said and put his hands into his pockets. “Down here is about the most secret things can get, short of a private meeting.”

“So, you want to talk business?” Dramar asked. His tone didn’t change whatsoever; for the black dragon, practically everything was about business.

Nodding, the Gamer explained, “From Fusion’s internal perspective, the Token is doing quite well so far. On the international side, we lack a definitive perspective. How are we doing?”

“We started out firmly ahead of schedule. Since then, things have slowed,” Dramar gave a quick summary. “I’ll put some pressure on the Indian market soon. The physical currency will flow outwards from there and force adaptation slowly on surrounding areas.”

“Anything I can do to help that process along?” the Gamer wanted to know.

“Hurry up with your current trade agreements. The quicker the coins flow, the sooner I can replace the useless green in my hoard with their shiny metallic goodness.”

________________________________________________________________________

It was past noon by now and John had to seriously watch his alcohol intake or he would get wasted hours before the gathering was meant to dissolve. They had all come together in the ballroom again, sharing a hot meal. John was at his table with Rave, Maximillian and one of Laralia’s bodies. Since there was no binding seat placement, that was just how things had come together by chance.

“We should have a double date,” Rave suddenly announced.

“”Pardon?”” John and Maximillian asked at once.

“Alright, ya two should have a date,” the Lightbearer laughed and rolled her eyes simultaneously. “Since you’re so in sync.”

“Why would I ever go on a date with that pompous asshole?” John pulled out the friendly insults and gestured at the self-exiled king. Among all the guests, who had explicitly been told that this was a casual event, he was the only one who to appear in a suit. Not any suit, at that, a full three-piece of noble black silk, golden buttons and a matching tie. He looked like he was about to attend his own coronation.

“I concur,” Maximillian agreed poshly. “Why would I waste my time with a barely accomplished lowlife?”

“Ya can stop sucking each other off now,” Rave remarked, her tone as dry as sandpaper. She reached over to her boyfriend’s crotch and squeezed the package possessively. “That’s my job.”

John couldn’t answer immediately. He had been halfway through swallowing a piece of meat when his meat had been grabbed and had choked on it. Coughing, he pressed out, “You… need to decide if you… want to ship us or…” he reached for the glass of water and felt the relief of cold wet cleaning his throat. “…or if you want to keep me.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Your narratives don’t align.”

“Seems like a problem for ya,” the pink-haired bombshell grinned. “Anyway, double date, how about it? Some nice and cliché romantic stuff. Tiger and I, and you and whoever ya wanna take along.” The feline Lightbearer looked over to the gemini elemental. “Would say Laralia here, but I don’t think she’ll be able to leave the Guild Hall anytime soon. I assume ya two are on the same page in the whole harem department?”

“Certainly,” the water spirit answered with a nod. Since she was an elemental and her entire reproductive strategy was non-existent, she wouldn’t have had the same gripes as a human woman. That was to say, a normal human woman, not someone of special ‘moral’ fibre like Rave or Lydia.

Maximillian brooded over the suggestion while cutting his steak into strips. Glancing over at John, the Gamer’s best friend seemed to search for a way to confirm whether this was a good idea. “Well, what’s the worst that could happen?” John gave a half-hearted agreement. “As long as you organize the whole thing, I’m in.”

Rave grinned cattishly, her tail flopping about as if she had just spied easy prey. “Whaddaya say, Max? Couple of hours failing to romance it up next to tiger and I?”

“Fail?” The gravity mage’s competitive nerves were tickled by that single word.

“Ya can’t think ya could seriously make a woman half as happy as John makes me?” Rave purred, stroking the Gamer’s leg.

“…Fine, you got yourself your double date!” Maximillian fell for the play hook, line and sinker.

John bowed over to his triumphantly giggling girlfriend and whispered into her ear. “How come you only compliment me when you want to ridicule someone else, hm?” he wanted to know.

Grabbing him by the hand, Rave stood up and pulled him along. “Let me make it up to you, Master,” she whispered back.

That was about all John needed to hear to follow her perfect ass.