The Gamer Chapter 1127 – Back in Black 10 – Golden Rose (Patreon)

It wasn’t fine or remotely usual form for John to spread his harem between two cars. To his mind, it felt like he was picking favourites, when choosing who got to sit in the vintage car with him. One of the definitive lessons he had learned was that picking favourites in the harem led to unnecessary strife. His Charisma prevented any extreme jealousy or envy from manifesting. Him letting the harem decide among itself who its leader was did aid in keeping even small negative emotions from blossoming into anything beyond a bad day. Rave had her position because she was the best at keeping the harem girls together, not because she was the first.

As leader of the harem, Rave was in the back of the car with him. On the other side was one of his maids: Momo. While Aclysia typically was the first to claim his left side, a privilege granted to her for the sheer amount of work she put into making everyone’s life pleasant, this was a diplomatic visit. Aclysia had a higher status in the harem, but Momo was still the chancellor of Fusion. That earned her the position on the comfortable bench at the back. The weaponized maid instead served as their driver, with the passive maid, and finance minister, sitting in the passenger seat. The rest of the harem was either incorporeal or sat in the car in the back.

They arrived at the Brighton estate. John remembered this place just popping up one day. Nowadays he also remembered how strangely little he had cared about the old mansion just appearing in the middle of a field by the city’s edge. There had clearly been magic involved in making mundane people disinterested. He had been too young for his lateblooming powers to influence him at that point.

‘If latebloomers showed they had slumbering potential by the age of four, they’d get abducted en-masse,’ John thought, while a guard opened the metal gate that separated the estate from the street for them.

The greenery around the manor invoked every bit the feeling of old British aristocracy as the mansion itself did. Carefully trimmed hedges surrounded flower beds, each of which was dedicated to flowers of only one colour and variety. The dirt paths between were orderly arranged and the entire structure mirrored by the short road they drove up on. Beatrice showed a small smile at the garden.

They were guided to two empty parking spots by the side of the manor by a butler. After they got out, John noticed a motorcycle standing there. He felt that it was oddly out of place. This was not the vehicle of choice he had in mind when it came to a knightly order. “The Lord-Protector and Warden await you in the library,” the butler informed them. “They wish to have a conversation before the official negotiations begin.” The butler leaned slightly to the side and observed the rest of his harem coming out of the car. “Although I have heard that all of your women are dear to you, sir, I would kindly ask that the majority of your entourage waits in the banquet hall.”

John looked at the ten women that were with him, fifteen if counting those waiting incorporeally, and just nodded. “Any of you want to desperately come along?” he asked.

“I’d at least care what this preamble is about,” Momo said, pulling at her poncho. She was in her official garb for this visit, which meant she wore the maid outfit with the personalized addition hanging from her shoulders. John loved that he could say that this was a uniform used in his government.

The other maid minister raised her hand to show her interest. “Beatrice…” John stopped in what he wanted to say, when the head of the butler suddenly turned towards the passive maid. Raw, unpleasant hatred dwelled in his eyes. ‘I guess we just found someone who made the spam calls.’ “…if you only want to come along to throw sassy remarks, lower your hand.”

Beatrice pondered for a second, and her hand stayed up.

John sighed, “Let me rephrase that. If you mainly want to come along to throw sassy remarks, lower your hand.” Still the hand stayed up. “To speak sassy remarks,” the Gamer added another correction. Finally, the pedantic maid’s hand went down. “I’m taking Momo along, that will cover the general need for sass,” he said.

“The Lord-Protector would doubtlessly appreciate it if you could repress your horrendous urge for sarcasm,” the butler spewed poison at them.

“Statement: I thought dry sarcasm was the entirety of British culture,” Beatrice stated.

“Bae,” John warningly flicked the maid’s forehead, “play nice. We are guests here.”

“Acknowledged,” the robotic, clearly unwilling response came from the perfectionist. “You have a nice garden,” she gave the sincerest compliment she could. “Symmetry pleases me.”

The butler did not care for the compliment. At the level of disdain he had for the passive maid, he was probably unable to take anything she said for full. Instead, he gestured towards the Gamer and the sassy support. “If you would follow me,” he said with the minimum of respect in his voice. Simultaneously, a different servant came over and guided the rest of the harem to the banquet hall where they were supposed to be catered to.

The inside of the manor was about as stereotypically posh-European aristocracy as it got. It had a somewhat older flair to it than Lydia’s estates, closer to medieval than renaissance era. There was some overlap here and there, unsurprisingly.

On the route they took were several pictures of members of the Brighton family. Red hair wasn’t a consistent feature through the generations. Moira must have gotten that from her father. The faces were remarkably similar, however. Whether the beauty only got refined through the generations or the family was able to employ more skilled artists was up for debate. ‘For people of this power level, they must have lived remarkably short lives,’ John thought, counting the generations as he came across them.

With the powers William and Moira had showcased, John knew they could live several hundred years. Moira had bested Rave, who had been over level 300 at the time. Even assuming that she was above average, courtesy of her being part of the ‘generation of monsters’, as the Horned Rat had called it, the Wardens should have ranged between level 50 and 100 to garner the level of influence they had. That would easily cover a lifespan of up to 200 years.

That there were more Wardens represented than this maximum age would suggest, John had two explanations for. First, the obvious, they died in combat. If nothing else, the Order was dedicated to its mission statement of protecting the innocent. Their willingness to throw themselves into harm’s way to achieve that had to be admired. Secondly, it could have been that there was something about the way this Blessing of the Golden Rose functioned that left them weakened after their heir was established.

John didn’t know for certain. The mechanics attached to the Warden’s power were quite mysterious. If they just kept on fighting relentlessly, the first part of the speculation could have been more than enough to explain this entire generational display.

They eventually reached a large double door. With an impressive swing in his step, the butler pushed open both halves at once and revealed a large library. It covered two floors, the massive shelves rising through where the ceiling would have been. Each of the old oak boards was filled to the brim with various texts. They practically smelled of magic, which made John raise an eyebrow at the brazenness of keeping these objects out in the mundane world. Although, as sensitive as he was to these things, there was no book around that actually glowed or whispered to him as he passed it.

Ladders and a system of walkways on the second level allowed the upper parts of each shelf to be reached. Just like he could feel the magic radiating from these texts, new and old, he could feel the way Momo’s head flew left to right in an attempt to read every title.

The library was impressive, especially for a private assembly of books. At the centre of the shelves, on top of a stone mural of a golden rose, stood a light wood table that had been worn down by years but remained good for use. Around it were several plain wooden chairs without any form of cushioning. Lord Brighton sat on one of them, his daughter standing behind him.

The leader of the Shield Branch of the Order of the Golden Rose was as grizzled as John remembered him. Scars and deep wrinkles, both born from years of responsibility, covered his face. A thick, albeit relatively short, beard and combed back hair shared a strong red colour. His blue eyes met John immediately.

Moira’s green ones followed. She had the same red hair, but feminine looks that fit the line of women in the portrait. She was cute, even if her face had a disciplined hardness to it.

Both Brightons wore proper and complicated clothes. A red blouse covered Moira’s torso, orderly tugged into the dark pants she wore in addition, all of it secured with a brown leather belt with a golden clasp. A pendant hung around her neck, taking the form of a tiny shield. Her father wore a white shirt and bronze-coloured pants, joined by a similar belt. Around his shoulders lay a strip of highly decorated cloth, like high-ranking Catholics often did. Their clothes were tailored to suit them flawlessly, showcasing both of their healthy bodies. Unsurprisingly, John had a greater interest in Moira’s balanced, female figure than William’s musclebound one. Considering who she was, even that interest stayed on modest levels.

John had already pulled back the chair on the opposite end of the table, when he remembered his manners. Last they talked, William had been nice enough to have Lorelei initiate the conversation. That aside, he was there to find a peaceful solution to the issue of their shared border. Hard as it was to not mess with the stuck-up Lord-Protector, the Gamer had to try his best.

“Greetings, Lord Brighton,” John said his hello, hands still on the backrest of the chair.

“Greetings… Gamer,” William responded, clearly skipping out on something between those two words. ‘Sinful’ would have been John’s first guess.

“Welcome to our estate,” Moira sounded a bit more diplomatic.

“Momo, hello, that’s my name,” the support maid introduced herself, somewhat awkwardly. “In case nobody knew.”

“We did know,” William Brighton responded with his rumbling voice. “We keep tabs on Fusion’s affairs. As, doubtlessly, you do on ours.”

“You make it a lot harder for me, since you guys don’t do press releases,” John joked, tapping the top of the backrest. He wanted to sit down and made that very obvious.

“…Take a seat,” the host finally obliged him. Both of them were struggling to be courteous, that much was obvious. As he sat down, John could see Moira silently sigh behind her father’s back and was absolutely certain that Momo was rolling her eyes. The chair reminded him of high school. Flat wood that he didn’t want to spend ten minutes, much less eight hours, on. “Let’s keep your complaints about our focus for the official meeting.”

John couldn’t help himself but to respond to that remark. “Sure, let’s say that was a complaint about that.”

“What else could it have been? With your indulgence of chasing popular support, weakening what should be the true goal of any just ruler.”

“Ah yes, I remember so many just rulers from history that were just loathed by their populace,” John responded drily.

“There is much between being loathed and selfishly indulging in the need for mass-approval.”

Momo grabbed her Master by the ear and softly tugged, before he could respond. That silenced him for long enough that she could interject, “Let’s do as you suggested, Lord Brighton, and just stay away from the official discussions.”

The Lord-Protector grumbled something and nodded, while John swatted at the hand that only now let go of his ear.

“You could have told me off mentally!” John chastised his chancellor. She raised her eyebrow at the vitriol he was spewing those words with. A certain crocodile growling in his soul let John know that he was letting his pride get the better of him. Getting even minorly humiliated in front of the Lord-Protector rubbed him the wrong way.

Although he did reign his excess in, the sassy support still needed to be punished. He did this by making her uncomfortable in the best possible way. Before the two socially rigid paladins, John wrapped an arm around Momo’s waist and, in spite of her protests, pulled her into his lap. Blushing furiously, struggling in vain, the white-haired woman was brought to park her round derriere on top of John, who held her in a domineering snuggle. With each passing second, she got redder.

John placed a swift kiss on her cheek, and she turned her face away with an audible ‘hmph’. Simultaneously, she held onto his neck for support. The typical Momo experience.

Happy, the Gamer returned to the talk, “Sorry, I had to do that. Servants are difficult to manage.”

“I’m difficult to manage?!” the sassy support cried out. “Have you met yourself?”

“I just want to protect you, cuddle you, and do lewd things with you, I’m very easy to please,” John responded.

William loudly cleared his throat. “An excellent opportunity to ask you what I called you here for… it has to do with our seer of the Varnik family. Lorelei, as you undoubtedly remember her.”

Nodding strongly, John waited for the leader of the Order to continue. He had noticed the seer’s absence, so this being about her didn’t surprise him. Of all the potential things the Lord-Protector could ask from there, the question he actually formulated was among the least expected. “What do you think of her?”

Unexpected or not, John had a stream of words in response. “She’s adorable,” he responded swiftly, “and I don’t just mean that she has a cute face, I mean that I adore her entire person. She has that slightly philosophical way of speaking, which just pleases my ears down to the brainstem. Getting her flustered gives me life. Not as much as her smile does though. Also-”

“Alright, that is enough!” William interrupted him. “If I believe nothing else about you, Gamer, then I do believe that you are insatiable. To be so brazenly and truthfully interested in our seer while one of your women lays across your lap.”

“He’s horrible, isn’t he?” Momo asked, only to get her ass pinched.

“Why do you ask in the first place?” John wondered. Obviously the Brightons had noticed that the interest was mutual. Them gathering more info on the sincerity of his own adoration was what friends and bosses should do. To what end they did that, however, he wasn’t quite sure about. Was this just concern or was there more to it?

“You will learn when I have come to a decision,” the Lord-Protector responded strongly.

“There is much we have to consider, we wanted the additional input,” Moira added, to keep things diplomatic. “That would be all, correct, Lord-Protector?”

“Indeed,” William nodded and stood up. “Let’s go and hold the proper meeting.”

They relocated.