The Gamer Chapter 1565 – The Filled Seat (Patreon)

It had only been a few days ago that John had sat at this roundtable.

The mighty oaken construct was separated into ten segments. Nine of them were marked by the iconography of the member of the Divided Gates that sat at its end. Romulus of the Sons of Rome, Lydia of Rex Germaniae, Eglystas of Prometheus, Celeste of the Illuminati, Lu Zhi of the Mandate of Heaven, Dangun of the Dangun Clan, Scunnder of the Odin’s Sons, Mengele of the Purest Front, Atrahasis of the Great Sultanate, nine leaders for nine segments.

John sat opposite Romulus that day, between Lu Zhi and Dangun. A random position, most likely, but an interesting one nonetheless. Not that there was any particular position that could have been uninteresting. There was no one at this table that he, and Fusion by extension, did not have some kind of relationship with.

The Gamer tried to suppress the impulse to turn around. He failed, peeking past the backrest of the high chair to look at Rave and Momo who flanked it, Nathalia and Nightingale right behind them, and the rest of the harem, together with the rest of Fusion’s high officials, behind that. They were part of the ring of important people that surrounded the table that had been put atop the world map that was engraved in the ground between the rows of rising platforms of the court and the imperial throne of the Apex.

Romulus himself sat, eyes closed, in his chair. He appeared deeply relaxed. Had it not been for his upright posture, one could have gotten the impression that he was asleep. There was the occasional confused muttering as all waited for the ceremony to begin.

When the Apex opened his eyes, all went silent. The sheer weight of his presence muted all those that would dare interrupt him. Sol pulled his chair back as he stood up, avoiding even the sound of wood screeching over stone.

“People, citizens, administrators, leaders, rulers, sovereigns,” Romulus began, his dark eyes drifting across the entirety of the gathered people. “We have witnessed the challenge to Fusion’s membership and the challenge has been answered. Are there any that, having seen what we have seen, doubt the position that John Newman, his partners, and his nation should have among us? Anyone who doubts Fusion’s economic strength? Anyone who further questions their ability to innovate and to overcome? Anyone who could reasonably declare that they are not a threat that to clash with would cost them dearly?”

A full minute went by, during which all were given their opportunity to speak. John looked around nervously, letting his true emotions show for once. Something in his blood told him that they were a second away from another interruption. Mengele petulantly blowing a nuke, a Kingdom tear opening up and a prophesied king stepping out, or Tiamat herself tearing open the ceiling to declare that they were all unworthy of leading.

None of that happened. The sixty seconds ticked by one eternity at a time. Romulus raised his voice again, “Then, with the authority of its peers and of the might displayed, Fusion is accepted as the newest member of the Divided Gates!”

Romulus slammed his hand down on the table and the smooth oak in front of John rippled like a disturbed surface. Under the waves, the material changed. Great artisanship and expensive materials that had been lying ready for days became visible, outlining the colliding comets mixed with the form of his six elementals that was Fusion’s true logo.

Those that supported Fusion cheered in that instant. The members of the Sons of Rome, Rex Germaniae, the Mandate of Heaven, the Illuminati, and Fusion themselves beat their feet loudly on the ground while their voices echoed in these ancient halls. There were some among them that did not share the enthusiasm, isolationists or simply those that liked their own nation but not the friends it kept.

Then there were those among Prometheus and the Sons of Odin that cheered loudly despite how their own nation had voted. Leadership had made the decision to oppose, not them, and they were at liberty to declare themselves one way or another. The Dangun Clan was somewhat part of this, giving courteous applause without joining in the enthusiasm.

Only the people of the Purest Front and the Great Sultanate were entirely silent. Authoritarianism meant that, even if any disagreement with their leadership existed, to express it would have been more lethal than poison. There was only the option to sit and look grim.

John noted that the Azure Tribe was nowhere to be seen. Whether that was a consequence of their failure or simply a wish to be as far away from Nia as possible was anyone’s guess.


The sense of success at seeing that window paled only in comparison to the giddiness of what came next.

Romulus sat down and John rose. The attention of the room changed to him. “I give my thanks to those of you that believed in the worthiness of my nation and to those that at least did not obstruct it,” he began, before stepping away from his chair altogether. As he spoke, he circled around the table. There were mocking grins he could have delivered, but he chose to focus on what was important. “Despite my meteoric rise, my beginnings were humble. A city in the middle of nowhere. No resources to my name. No backers… that is, until I came into contact with her.”

John stopped by Lydia’s chair and extended a hand to her. The queen’s ornate armour gently rattled as plates retreated to let her slender fingers lay bared in his palm. To help her stand would have been to undermine what he was saying and so she merely used his hand to pull herself up. Holding her hand, he continued to walk.

“From there, my life was set for greatness. Perhaps I would have achieved notable things out in the land and likely that would have been its own greatness. To live for oneself is also a path of righteousness if lived correctly. I chose to live to make history. First I aided in hers, then I began to carve my own. It is her that I can thank for my ambition and my understanding of the political side of the Abyss. She has been my guidance, my first advisor, and my most important teacher.”

“It is you that I can thank for the prosperity of my realm,” Lydia answered his praises immediately, her words chosen weeks ago. “The days we shared discussing what is wise, until the sun set, and the nights we continued in whispers. You tempered my discipline with humanity and kept me from steering too far off the path in chasing what is easy.”

They arrived back at Fusion’s chair, where a spot for them to stand had been cleared and where all could look upon them from the podiums and through the cameras. John, in his black suit, with his copper red shirt underneath, struck a modern figure. Lydia, in her armour of silvery white, her cape of woven sunlight waving mystically, was every bit the monarch of a fantastic realm she truly was.

“I’m honoured that you have guided me every step along this path, my mithril lady.”

“And I’m honoured that you have stuck to me when you could have gone so many other ways, my love,” Lydia answered, her tone as soft as tin.

While they continued to hold hands, John turned his eyes to Rave. That was not in the script, and so Lydia’s fingers twitched between his. Quietly trusting him, the queen turned her attention to his fiancée as well.

Rave smiled and raised her left hand. The ring of glowing colours framed by silvery-white sat there. John touched it for a moment and asked a simple question. “You’re all my harem. Do you approve of what I want to do?”

“Of course, tiger,” Rave purred.

With a resounding, satisfying noise, like two gold coins clacking against each other, the ring multiplied. One continued to sit around Rave’s finger, all colourful and gorgeous, perfect for her. A new one weighed heavy in John’s palm, the dark colour of wrought iron. A flowing carving of eagles and oak trees cut thin lines of steel grey into the surface, an artistic masterpiece.

John had gone to Sindri and Brokk specifically because they were the makers of Draupnir, the ring famed for replicating itself endlessly. This characteristic was what he had treasured most of all because he needed not just one ring, but many rings, each perfect for his women. None could be bestowed without the agreement of the wielder of the original.

Rave tip-toed on the spot, looking first at her ring, then at the new one. John held it on his open palm, as he went to one knee. Despite how prepared she had been for that moment, despite them playing out every part of this in their mind and in practice, both John and Lydia blinked away tears of joy as he presented to her, long-winded, the question.

“Lydia Augusta the Fourth of house Hohenzollern, Elector of Brandenburg, Princess of Greater Brandenburg and the city of Lübeck, Marquise of Pomerania and Silesia, Queen of Rex Germaniae, Queen of Steel, Empress in my heart, my mithril lady, and one of those I am blessed to love and be loved by…” John’s voice broke for a second and he cleared his throat, to continue at the volume he should, “…I am kneeling before you, as your equal, and ask for your hand in marriage. I lay no claim to your titles and our children shall only ever belong to your house. I lay no claim to your country or any position therein. All I wish is for us to become part of a greater whole. Lydia, will you marry me?”

“John…” Lydia started and immediately stopped, herself having to clear her throat. “John Newman, President of Fusion, I…” She stopped herself and suddenly, deeply, laughed. Half a page of prepared spiel were suddenly eliminated by a single word. “Yes!”

Heart singing, tears rolling, the Gamer pushed the ring over the finger of the queen. It fit perfectly, settled in the only place it belonged. Lydia immediately pulled him up. Their lips met, and the people cheered again.

The sound reached John’s ears. The drumming and clapping reverberated in his chest. Of all the applause he had listened to these past few days, this one mattered the least. It didn’t matter if anyone outside the small circle of haremettes around them cheered for them. That was just a side bonus. What mattered to John, for all the posturing and all the acting they had needed to do, was only the woman and the red lips he currently met. Even if she was covered by the hard plates of the armour he had gifted her, through the kiss he experienced all the warmth she had to offer.

And it was abundant.

Before John knew it, a piano and string quartet had begun to play. Luna’s voice overpowered all the applause, underlining the movements of the betrothed pair. Following instincts, John and Lydia danced to the music. “A joyous occasion!” the moon goddess shouted. “Let us all share in the echo of their deepest delight today!”

“Let the intertwining of history commence!” Sol joined her opposite in the declaration. “Let us all exist in harmony where we can and love where we are blessed to know it!”

“The queen of steel is no longer!” Romulus clapped his hands and the great table of the Divided Gates lifted from the ground. “From this day she shall only and ever be known as Lydia, queen of mithril!”

The applause from the nobles of Rex Germaniae rose to a rumbling roar, traditionalists and reformists unified in agreement with the declaration.

John was swept up in the great motions. The courtroom became a flow of chaos as benches were hastily removed and large viewing platforms turned into individual levels for a dance that spread throughout the city. It all was a haze of fantastic music and enthusiastic steps. Lydia continued to spiral, twirl, and step fluidly, never disconnected fully from him, even when another haremette joined in the dance for a stretch.

Whereas the engagement with Rave had been such a private affair, this could not have been more public. The entire world knew of their betrothal, the entire world had opinions on it, and of the Divided Gates there were those that danced along and those that attempted to stream out of the chamber in the joyous chaos.

Euphoria lay in the air, rising ever higher, as a concert that had not been arranged for put itself together. The great military orchestra of Rex Germaniae played on drum, piano, violin, flute, and trumpet the songs of victory and of marches to difficult times.

The great dance came to an end when Romulus suddenly hoisted John and Lydia onto his shoulders. It snapped John out of the stream of joy, to suddenly find himself lifted like a child onto the shoulders of the Apex. The ancient man smiled broadly at him and Lydia. All the misgivings he and Lydia had over the role Romulus had played in making the tournament necessary had long been forgiven. All clashes they would have in the future were shrouded in the same fog that all of the future was always covered by.

But in this moment, for the lashing that John had received, for the agreement they had made in case of war, for the favours and the insults they had delivered at each other, Romulus was just a man happy to see two young rulers unified in love. “Say a word, while you still can,” the Apex recommended.

It was a sobering announcement, a reminder that all of this was not going to last long. They were out of time, their stay in Rome was concluding, and uglier but necessary things were close to follow.

“At least let it be known!” John shouted over everyone. “That I love her!”

With a final cry of agreement, the great gathering of thousands began to relax. The final underlining of the string of successes John had enjoyed ended with fanfare and jubilation. All was bright and going well for John.

It was almost a shame it had to be followed by ugly vengeance.