The Gamer Chapter 1487 – Dinner (Patreon)

John was irked twice over. For one, he had to wait in line in the canteen of his own yacht and that was just terrible. For two, he loathed that this bothered him. Resenting his own feeling of entitlement, he stood in the line, brooding over which of the two feelings he should listen to. Certainly, no one liked a ruler that cut in line, but was he not deserving of special privileges on his own boat?

‘Yes!’ Siena’s voice echoed in his mind.

‘No,’ Stirwin calmly disagreed.

Shadow and light spirit engaged in a mental sparring match. Although John didn’t come to a definitive conclusion which side of his persona he wanted to empower through habit building, he was at least distracted until it was his turn to be served.

The dinner of their first day at sea was a delectable tuna steak with a side of pasta and green salad. A healthy dish and fitting with the fact that they were on a voyage. While on a boat, one had to eat seafood. Well, they did not have to, there were alternative offerings for those with a distaste for the ocean’s bounties or meat in general. John, however, indulged.

Carrying his tray, the Gamer walked through the cantina. The room was large, being the main facility on the main deck of the yacht, and thus quite capable of giving enough room to the many people that were currently housed in the swimming luxury hotel. The furniture was of a dark colour, the floors of a much lighter shade, and the walls covered in an artistic, nonsensical swirly pattern of several colours. The tables were split in various ways, isolating some for quiet conversation while allowing others to sit in a large circle.

Usually, the harem would have gone for the latter, but all of them were occupied. Just because there was enough space for everyone did not mean that everyone got to sit where they wanted. ‘Now why does that not bother me?’ John thought, trying to decide which cluster of his girls he joined. ‘Probably because everyone is going through that inconvenience? Ah, but everyone is also standing in line. Must be because I value my time more than my choice of dinner conversation.’

As John walked, his eyes fell on a pair at one of the more isolated tables. Ahanu and Emrik, two figures that were similar and yet quite opposite. Both wore suits, both were dark haired and dark eyed, but that was where similarities ended. Ahanu was a decent looking man, with long hair that was bound into a ponytail. A headband with a single feather decorated him, giving a halfway modernized tribal look to the blue suit with the bowtie. He was a unique sight, with a large smile.

Emrik looked cynical. Next to the charisma that was the Chieftain-Elect of the Hidden Tradition, the leader of the Lake Alliance even seemed downright despondent. Short hair, early wrinkles on his face, a constantly thoughtful expression bordering on a scowl, and a black suit with a blue tie that made him almost as stereotypical a suit as Richard displayed himself as.

‘I suppose I should be a part of that,’ John thought and adjusted his steps. His toes had barely adjusted their direction, as Emrik looked up from the conversation and looked directly at him approaching. “May I sit down?” he asked, actually meaning the question.

“Of course,” Ahanu responded, while Emrik was still contemplating.

They were beyond the point in their adversarial relationship that they had to pretend to like each other, especially in these semi-private settings. If Emrik wanted to talk to Ahanu without the president present, then that was his good right. For one reason or another, the Speaker of Commons nodded, however, and John sat down.

“To what do we owe the honour?” Emrik asked, inquisitively.

“Just wondered what the two strongest statesmen in the Federation were discussing,” John answered, not bothering to hide anything from Emrik’s ability. The bothersome fact was that he detected lies through physical means, primarily vibrations in the air, and experience in interpreting them. There were very few measures against that and even fewer could go unnoticed. John could have Sylph calm the air around him, but that told the Speaker of Commons that he wanted something obscured.

Claire could have maybe lied to the man, just because of how good she was at it. That could have been a worthwhile test.

“We’re not that influential,” Ahanu responded with his typical, dangerously earnest smile.

Of all the politicians John had to interact with, Ahanu was the biggest enigma. The man always got what he wanted, and so did everyone he dealt with. By some miracle, he just got along with everyone, and he had just the right level of ambition to thrive without annoying anybody. If Fusion held general elections, Ahanu might have been the only person John would have considered to be competition in the running.

That was, if he earned himself more name recognition.

“You’re very influential,” John disagreed. “By your word, policies rise and fall.” The two were leaders of the two most powerful power blocs within the Federation. The Lake Alliance was the undisputed first, but the Hidden Tradition was the clear second, and both had strengths and weaknesses the other did not. What both of them truly benefited from was that they were holding their positions in ways that existed besides Fusion’s federal framework.

Officially, Ahanu was a member of the House of Exceptionals, Emrik was Speaker of Commons, but both held de-facto positions with way more local power. As Chieftain-Elect, Ahanu had more traditional power than Fusion’s legal framework could ever endow him with, within the Hidden Tradition. Emrik just had political capital inside his home. A whole lot of it. Enough that, if there hadn’t been barriers against that, he would have likely held the positions of mayor of Niagara Falls, president of the devolved parliament of the Lake Alliance, and Speaker of Commons, all in one. Instead, he was all of these things using people that owed him. At least there was still a chance to win them over for specific proposals.

Ahanu stopped his downplaying at that point, and Emrik just pierced some of his salad. All of them took a few moments to bite down on what was in front of them. Aclysia’s students were picking up the craft wonderfully. “Anything besides empty flattery?” Emrik finally asked.

“How do you like the walls?” John asked.

Emrik and Ahanu both mustered the swirly colour patterns. “Not quite to my liking,” the chieftain responded first.

“Postmodern,” Emrik gave a much more scathing opinion.

The Gamer sighed, having anticipated as much. “I wasn’t sure what to paint over the old images, so I just let a few artists go wild. It was a terrible decision.”

“What was on the walls before?” Ahanu asked.

“Various depictions of squids doing heroic deeds… the previous owner of this vessel was a squid man,” John had to attach the bonus explanation to his answer. “To this day, not sure what he needed this big of a ship for. He travelled with like 5 other people.”

“That would have been Captain Boss Senior and his crew, correct?” John nodded to Emrik’s question. “They reached out to me not that long ago, suggesting I hire them to annoy you.”

“Did you do it?” John asked.

“No, albeit I wouldn’t put it beyond them to try something anyway.”

John just raised an eyebrow. He had defeated them handily back then and that was 500 levels ago. If he looked in their general direction, they could have exploded. “I would appreciate not having additional stowaways… I’m still not even sure that Tilgun hasn’t decided to follow us.” His tuna steak sliced into mouth-sized bites, John began to churn through. The fish had been repeatedly basked in fat to keep it from drying out in the pan and the final result was delightful. Probably terrible for his arteries, though. “Anyway, may I ask what you have been discussing?”

“Just the weather around this time of year,” Ahanu responded.

John had to suppress the urge to raise an eyebrow. The idea that politicians could have small talk without ulterior motives was admittedly something he still struggled with. Admittedly, that said more about him than them. “I suppose that is a rainy topic?”

“Depends on the side of the Appalachians,” Ahanu joked.

“The lakes remain lovely at all times of year,” Emrik stated, a rare sense of pride lingering in his voice. It was closely followed by resignation. “I wish I could be by their shores more often.”

“The sacrifices we make to assure that our homes remain prosperous, isn’t it?” John asked.

Emrik let out a deep hum. “Do you have a home, John?”

“Difficult question,” the Gamer admitted. “I suppose I don’t have one in the same sense as you two. I don’t have a specific land I would call my own. Sort of goes both with my upbringing and being a previously mundane Latebloomer. The Guild Hall definitely is my home, though.” He stretched to wink across the cantina. Fiancé senses tingling, Rave turned her head just in time to catch it and wink back. Then she laughed at something Sylph said. “Wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.”

There was silence again, around the table, for a little bit. Ahanu tried and, for stretches, succeeded in entangling them in conversations, but they always eventually petered out. For all the friendliness he had for Ahanu and the understanding opponent that Emrik was, he didn’t know either man particularly well and neither did they know each other.

The plates were eventually empty, announcing the end of their equally empty chatter. “I’ve given some thought about where our discussion ended last time,” Emrik stated vaguely, as he got up. “I am once more forced to begrudgingly respect you, John Newman. Keep earning it.”

John had no response for that. Any sense of gratitude he had towards the older man for saying that was competing with the annoyance he had for his tone.

Expectedly, Ahanu asked, “What was that about?”

The question indirectly put a smile on his face because it reminded him that nothing of the discussion had leaked out. The two other politicians present at the end of the last tea party had kept word, despite one of them being part of the very same party that wanted to put a crown on John’s head.

“Let’s find somewhere quieter,” the Gamer said. The table was relatively isolated, but between superhuman hearing and spying magic, John did not trust the actual safety of information he divulged in the cantina. One of the many side rooms served much better to that end. “This is strictly confidential, for reasons regarding the kind of reactions the public would have if they heard it.” Ahanu gave his agreement with a deep nod. “Emrik and I had a talk regarding the… apparent inevitability he sees in me becoming king…”

“And you suggested he had to be the one to put the crown on your head?” Ahanu asked.

“Yes… did anyone tell you this?”

“No, I just feel like that would be the logical conclusion of that talk.” The Chieftain-Elect let out a little chuckle. “He would push you on this. Emrik likes moving things to their inevitable endpoint as fast as possible. Always busy.”

“You agree it’s inevitable?” John asked, his voice immediately gripped by resigned monotony.

“You were a mundane man, John, and I respect that you bring other insights to the world,” Ahanu responded, diplomatic as always. “For us Abyssals, the idea that people elect someone from among their peers is… difficult. How can the average person be your peer when you think faster than supercomputers and can erect mountains in a week?”

Not even a sigh could be mustered in response. John had been down that line of questions many times before and no response satisfying had been found yet. ‘In concept’ was the best one and it just did not stick. Republics were founded on the understanding that the people could invest their power in whoever they wanted, if they were willing to use force to back their decision. An act that was already complicated enough in the real world, with standing armies fighting militias in revolutions. How much harder would it be when he alone was worth as much as the entire army?

Could John even be conceptualized as ‘human’ at that point?

“I dislike how readily all of you accept supreme authority being derived from one person,” John complained. “Also, you are literally elected.”

“By my peers and my ancestors,” Ahanu responded plainly. “The chieftains of the tribes decide who may attempt to venture to the Cave of Spirits to be found worthy of carrying their greatest blessings. I’m elected in the same way your Lydia is elected.”

John rubbed his forehead. “Can I just find one person that agrees with me fully?” he grumbled.

“Democracies don’t survive in the Abyss, John. You demonstrated why yourself when you took over the Little Maryland. Assume you had been weaker than Abraham. Would you have run? Would you have let an outsider take over, in his position?”

The Gamer still had no good answers. He couldn’t even muster a principled response, because he had not allowed elections for his position from the start. Just another aspect that made his position so intellectually untenable. John rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the rare headache. “So what do I do? Just surrender to this?”

“You could, or you can continue doing what you want.” Ahanu put a hand on the Gamer’s shoulder. He was only slightly older than John, a gap that kept decreasing the more time was spent in dilated Illusion Barriers. Perhaps that was why his smile looked so brotherly. “The Hidden Tradition believes in your promises, John. That we’ll be a Federation, whether you’re king or not, is what we trust in. Just that you would want your opposition to crown you means that you understand what is important. Beyond that, you can govern however you want to. Maybe just the fact that you pretend to be accountable makes you a better ruler for the common person.”

“Pretend… I suppose that is my issue. I don’t like pretending anything.”

Ahanu pulled his hand back and shrugged. “We all pretend in some ways. During meetings, we smoke because we believe this will pull us together as one tribe. It has no foundation in actual magic, but we believe it and that makes it more magical in a sense.”

“…I’ll keep thinking about it.”

Laughing, Ahanu walked away, after one more friendly smack to his shoulder. “You always think, John Newman.”

Standing alone in the side room, John slowly drew in his breath and exhaled softly. He still wasn’t any closer to a resolution on the matter. Would the struggle even be over if he was a king? Would it just change its texture?

Never any answers.