The Gamer Chapter 1632 – A Bulwark and an Oath (Patreon)

“When was the last time you actually governed for a whole month uninterrupted?” Emrik asked.

John actually had to consider that question for a split second. A delay that his opposite caught up on nearly immediately. “My point is made.”

“Respectless creature,” Ehtra mumbled in the background.

Emrik turned around for a moment, beholding the First of Hatred with a cool gaze. She did not honour him with the same gesture, instead sneering away while working on whatever letter she was drafting at the moment. She actually wrote it by hand. Ehtra’s calligraphy skills were impressive enough to be used as a diplomatic tool.

“I’m no fan of your new secretary,” the middle-aged man stated flatly.

“I’m no fan of you coming here in person when we could have dealt with this via a quick phone call,” John answered in a similarly flat tone. “Alas, I want someone competent around me and you want to use your Innate Ability to read me.”

Something was in the air today. John couldn’t say if he personally was just a bit tired of internal politics or if Emrik was particularly disagreeable today. Likely, there was a bit of both going on. Fact was only that their animosity was as alive as ever.

“When?” Emrik insisted on the question.

“February,” John admitted with a long sigh. Even that was arguable. During February, he had been driving up and down the territories annexed from the Order of the Golden Rose, putting together registries and such. That was governance, no doubt about it, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of governing Emrik was talking about. Then again, he had also been in the capital with his second body most of the time.

Still, that was over 5 months ago. April, he had mostly spent in the office, but both March and May had been entirely spent elsewhere, being the war against the Iron Domain and his Oklahoma vacation, respectively. Peppered in between were various political and private events.

“And now you want to prance off to some vague threat in Mexico, after you murdered Mengele,” Emrik stated.

“Be careful what you accuse me of,” the Gamer growled warningly. The walls were thick, but Nightingale wasn’t around to give him complete peace of mind. “Shouldn’t you be happy? While I am out and about, you can execute your political machinations as you please.”

“We both know that you will send your cohort of geniuses after my machinations the moment you return,” Emrik stated plainly. “I’m reining in my efforts to get the Lake Alliance ahead of the rest of the Federation in return for your occasional blind eye when I do enact a favourable bill. This is our quid pro quo.”

“Then what is your problem?” John wanted to know.

“You are the strength of this nation.” Emrik put the tip of his index finger on the gleaming mahogany with an audible ‘tock’. “I relented to joining this Federation because of the protection you offer. I continue to be part of this Federation in large part because the prosperity you promise is real, but none of it is worth anything if the Lorylim make their move. When it does happen, we will lose territory and people. The loss will go up exponentially the longer you need to respond to their surprise attack. What good are you when you are in the middle of a jungle, kilometres away from any airport, fucking about with some other ancient force we do not have to deal with?”

John raised an eyebrow at the curse coming from the older man’s lips. Outwardly, Emrik remained as calm as ever, but the length of his monologue and the choice of words made his agitation clear. The scratching of Ehtra’s pen on parchment had stopped, leaving the room in silence while the Gamer weighed his words.

“You’re afraid,” he noted.

“As any sane man would be,” Emrik responded plainly.

John put his chin on his chest. His eyes were focused on a random point in the empty leg compartment of his office desk. Metra had been on duty and had stepped out when Emrik had stepped in. This was too important a person to be distracted by a bobbing head and tight lips. A stance only made truer by how this discussion was developing.

“As any sane man would be,” John agreed. The position of the average person was growing more distant with every passing day, but he still remembered what it was like to be a fleeting mortal that could be extinguished by a stray bullet. Eldritch mushroom horrors presented a much more terrifying threat. “What would you have me do, Emrik?”

“Stay,” the Speaker of Commons stated with certainty and swiftness. “Continue to govern. Consolidate our gains. The west will join us in due time, all that takes is diplomatic effort. The north and south can wait. Mengele’s demise puts us as the sole power in the western hemisphere, John. There is no need for us to make a move that would put this position at risk.”

John kept looking downwards, gently swivelling left to right. The well-oiled mechanisms of his luxurious leather chair whispered softly. Turning all the way to the left, John looked at a screen mounted to the wall. With a thought, he made it flicker to life. A map of the current lay of North America’s Abyssal polities was put on display.


On the map, Fusion was separated out into its major power blocks. The Fusion Heartlands along the east coast, the Lake Alliance around the Great Lakes, the Hidden Tradition covering the Appalachians, the Military Zone where soldiers continued to root out Lorylim corruption from the Gestalt incident, and the Order Midlands with the Golden Rose itself located at the south coast. Between all of them was Pacifica, a gathering of states that had joined Fusion willingly and found itself located between various influences. Just one of those quirks of history.

Beyond Fusion’s borders, changes had occurred. The Fleshcleansers had conquered the surrounding guilds, while the Snowdancers and the Catto Nation had fused with their neighbours to have a stronger negotiating position with Fusion. The Wanderer guild continued to be an enigmatic and elusive bunch, as did Mae Ea. For everywhere else, Fusion’s diplomats were doing their work, externally and internally.

The Catto and Gobbo Nation joining was a foregone conclusion, so was the Outer Mandate. The remaining small fries in the area were guaranteed to follow. All John had to do now to see the project of his Abyssal USA come to fruition was keep the ship steady and let things run their course. The winner of the continental struggle was clear, now they were just mopping up the stragglers. Even the Fleshcleansers could be dealt with by using Fusion’s armed forces without John’s intervention.

John knew that and Emrik knew that too.

“What do you think will happen next?” John asked, looking at the screen. “After all the predictable moments are sorted out?”

“Something surfaces, inside or outside our borders, and throws its might against our bulwark.”

“What bulwark?” John asked. Now it was on Emrik to be quiet for a few seconds. A silence that the Gamer exploited. “The bulwark is me,” he stated the obvious. “It is me and my harem, standing between what Fusion could become and those forces that would aim to destroy it before we get there. Money, minds, population, land, we have it all, but what we do not have is time. Fusion is only starting to build a cultural identity to fight and die for. We have a strong elite force, but our military is tiny compared to the land area it needs to cover. The infrastructure is basic. The economy is only beginning to seep out into surrounding areas. Right now, the military practically functions as a detection system to throw me and mine at a problem.”

“That is the responsibility you chose to bear,” Emrik cut to the heart of the matter.

“Indeed,” John agreed. “And I choose to leave you to prove your own as well, Emrik. I’ll leave the Fleshcleansers to the military, the western nations to the diplomats, and I leave the day to day to the people.”

“It is too early to take risks.”

“Everything is a risk,” John retorted. Now it was him that tapped on the table. “What if this unknown threat in Yucatan turns out to be against us? What if it is the Lorylim? Worse, what if the Lorylim get there first and corrupt themselves another ally? What if someone from the Purest Front makes their way there, discovers what it is, unifies the guild, and turns their ire against us?”

“An issue we wouldn’t have to contemplate if you hadn’t-“

“Emrik,” John interrupted him with a firm word. Quiet ensued. “Risk is inherent to life,” the Gamer stated. “You are a person of cautious pragmatism, and I deeply respect that. When it comes to running the ship of state in calm times, I couldn’t ask for anyone better. These are not calm times. Not yet.”

Emrik just stared at him, then he stood up. “This will cost you support among the leadership,” he said. It was a statement of fact and a threat in one. “You cannot keep leaving the people you vowed to protect to go after your personal projects.”

“Protecting you and my personal projects are one and the same.”

“It does not look that way from the outside.” With those words, Emrik took his leave. He was about to close the door behind him when Ehtra slammed it shut in his face. The shadow of Emrik lingered behind the milky glass for a moment, then stepped aside.

“That was unnecessary.”

The commentary went ignored. “I would love to say this is going to be my last question,” Ehtra said as she walked up to his table, “but the chances are I will always have more. Tell me, John, why do you respect that man?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because he loathes you.”

“And he’s honest about it.” John grabbed a pen from the table, just to have something in his hands. “More than that, he loathes me, he outspokenly dislikes me, the most popular singular person in this nation, and yet he has made it to the position of second most politically powerful person in the nation.” The pen danced over his fingers. “I loathe him too, but it’s good to have people around that both oppose me and actually have the means to put up resistance.”

Ehtra just nodded. It was the same song and dance they had been through a few times now.

“Alright, this is it then,” she decided. “Step outside.”

“This is my office,” John pointed out.

“Step – outside,” Ehtra ordered him.

The Gamer was prone to resisting authority, particularly the assumed kind, but not here. One thing would always have authority over John Newman and that was gorgeous, blushing women incapable of looking him straight in the eye. Whatever she had planned, he felt like he would like it.

Following her demand, John went out into the hallway. He had just started getting comfortable out there when he felt a tugging on his mind. A wordless beckon back inside. ‘It’s been less than two minutes, she really doesn’t play around,’ John thought and opened the door.

He was greeted by a magnificent sight.

The clothes Ehtra had worn were orderly assorted in front of her. The maid uniform was folded, black panties, stockings, and garter belt piled up in a neat stack next to it. Between them sat a piece of paper. Ehtra sat, in all of her nudeness, a step behind her clothes. John had seen her naked before. She had not been ashamed then and she did not appear ashamed now. Eyes closed, a mild blush on her face, she displayed something entirely different from shame: excitement. Her nipples were hard. Her thick thighs squeezed together.

John did not get a look at what laid between them. The moment the door closed behind him, the grey angel began to lean forwards. Her wings had been dismissed, leaving her back in all of its smoothness on display. Shoulder blades and back muscles shifted under the taut, brown skin of a tanned Middle Easterner.

First both hands on the floor, then her forehead on her hands, the kneeling woman bowed. Her spine curved enticingly, putting the curve of her raised ass on display. Full and round, that it was, fitting right in with the rest of his maids. The prostration was so utterly sexual, John struggled not to descend on her immediately.


“I, Ehtra, First of Hatred and Lady Vengeance, swear my loyalty to you, Master,” she said, her hard voice softened, yet still regal. She was delivering the oath with every bit of sincerity that she felt and that was appropriate for a woman of her age. “I have borne witness to your supreme ability to lead, to fight, and to love. You lead with courage and wisdom, acknowledging your faults and asserting your decisions. You fight with slyness and might, achieving victory through schemes and force. You love with devotion and honesty, deserving your harem as much as they deserve you.”

John heard an added cascade of criticisms in the seconds that followed, but none of them were ever voiced. Still prostrating herself the naked woman swallowed all of her uncouth words and continued in the regal tone.

“You have given me power, you have offered me time and space, you have decided that I shall make my own decision, and I have decided to… love you.” The confession took John off-guard. He had been keeping his eyes off her relationship score all this time, and did so even now. When had she actually started loving him? Or was she just saying that? “I love you, Master.”

‘That puts a firm no on that,’ the Gamer thought, a string of calm words in a drumming of his heart. This confused him. It confused him in a way he didn’t know he could still be confused. A part of him had anticipated she would come to a decision, none of him knew how to handle her suddenly confessing such deep feelings for him, paired up with the consistent and venerating use of his favourite title no less.

“You may not be all that I would ask of a lover, but you’re the best I ever experienced. If it would please you, mark me as you have the others. I have their agreement.”

John’s eyes fell on the piece of parchment on the floor. Squatting down, he grabbed it. It was a short writ, a statement by Ehtra for her intention to join his harem, signed by the entirety of the harem. It was too chaotic, too orderly, too varied a set of signatures to be faked. The Gamer did not ask when or why she had started to gather them. Ehtra had a tendency to surprise him, that much was clear.

Not knowing whether it would work or not, but hoping dearly so, John put his hand on Ehtra’s shoulder. The grey angel raised her head confidently, the will behind the full-faced blush strong despite the compromised position she had put herself in. There were no words, for words would have only muddled what came next.

Ehtra raised her head just enough to meet his lips halfway. She tasted of oranges. It was delightful. The kiss itself was almost chaste. The inexperience at display was evident. John guided her through gestures and little nudges, parting her lips with his tongue, then gently getting more from her. Soon, she was sighing wanton sounds into their connection. Her eyelids fluttered, the emerald of her eyes half-hidden.

John put a hand on the back of her head, pulled her a little deeper, and let the magic flow. It tingled through his lips, through his fingers, and on hers. Sighs turned into moans as their chaste kiss became anything but. Tongues whirled with increasing confidence. The Gamer became more and more forward, growing in ambition. These were his lips to claim, by her choice and the choice of his other girls.

The ticklish feeling on his finger told him that he cared more for Ehtra than he himself had realized, or perhaps this sudden confession had let manifest what had been slumbering under the surface. Fact was that another mark joined the many decorating his fingers. On the middle digit of the left hand, her claim to him appeared, sharing a position with Nathalia. A fact that may have been more fitting than John gave it credit for. The appearance of the mark made her earlier words as true as they could have been. They also made his next ones impossible to be a lie.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

Their second kiss entered the realm of debauched.