Monroe

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-one. Dragon.

Huron had carefully prepared himself for this meeting.

One of the perks of being the head of the Church was that he was able to request the attention of the King both quickly and easily. One of the drawbacks of being the Head of the Church was that he was the one who had to interact with the King.

Ericka, the Seneschal, approached him, welcoming him with a smile, a habit from her past before she'd become a Draconian. What ought to have been warm and welcoming was somewhat less so on her draconic features.

"Huron," she greeted him warmly, "as always, it's a pleasure to see you."

"And you," Huron replied, taking one of her scaled hands in his own, "I take it you've been well?" he asked.

"Busy more than anything," she laughed, "we're starting to see an exodus of the commoners from the city, so I've been dealing with the Noble Houses who are in a panic, worried about their tax revenue."

"Events outpace us all," Huron replied, "but Vi'Radia will always light the path," he paused and delivered a smile of his own, "even for the Nobles."

"So, what brings you to the palace today?" Ericka asked.

"I have news for the king," Huron said, his tone serious.

Ericka frowned for a moment, looking pensive. "I'll need a little time to pull him away from a project," she shook her head, "you've my apologies, but I suspect it will take me the better part of an hour."

Huron shrugged his shoulders, then said, "This information, while not of immediate importance, has long-term implications that will need to be considered as quickly as possible."

Ericka nodded. "Soonest started then," she replied and strode away.

Kallan Garvades was frustrated.

All the Noble houses had needed to do was to keep their avarice within reason. He didn't expect them to serve him selflessly, as lovely as that would have been, but by flame and claw, he had expected them to be competent.

"So," he began, allowing a hint of flame to touch his tone, "am I to understand that you've taxed the commoners under your auspices so heavily, for so long, that at the first hint of an opportunity to escape your clutches, they've all left?"

Lady Dayson managed to maintain her composure, despite the King's harsh statement and fiery tone.

Kallan thought that she was either showing a great deal of self-control or, alternatively, she was mentally incompetent.

He shifted, his scales whispering as they rubbed together. He rarely interacted with his Nobles in his true form, finding that the weaker members were too terrified to think properly. Today, he wanted to deliver a little terror. Not one, not two, but four Noble houses had failed to render unto him his taxes, each citing an excuse centered on the flood of commoners leaving Harbordeep.

He looked down at Elinata Dayson.

"You have failed me, and in doing so, you have failed my city, and my Kingdom," his voice rumbled, "you have taken liberties with my generous nature and raised my taxes to increase the size of your own hoard," he snorted, and a twenty-foot long jet of fire splashed across the wall. "You've driven those who serve me, through you, out of the city, and now you come to me, short of my tax, and further," he growled as his tail swished, "stating that you've not maintained the sewers and waterways?"

"Your Majesty," Lady Dayson's voice trembled, "the unfaithful commoners have fled their lawful service, abandoning their tasks," she shook her head, "I beg of you, give us leave to seek out these traitorous wretches who have scorned the generous remuneration we provide for their work, and we will bring them back in chains!"

Kellan reared up, extending his wings to brace himself against the walls for balance. "Still, you shift the blame for your failures unto the backs of those you have abused," he roared. He fought for control. His nature demanded that he incinerate the worthless noble before him. "No!" his voice was loud, "Did you think I was unaware of the conditions my citizens labored under?"

He lowered his head to look her in the eyes. Or as close he could, as with his head on the floor, his eyes were seven feet above it, and she was only six feet tall.

"I have considered your actions and was inclined to cast your house down," he rumbled and smiled wickedly as her face paled.

"However, as other, more loyal houses are needed to take advantage of the massive profits I expect to see soon, I have a more elegant solution," Kellan's grin widened.

He had completed his ritual during his conversation with Dayson, and now he levied it.

"I Geas you, Elinata Dayson, that you must lay this geas on all those who claim by birth or name to be of your house; You shall see to the maintenance of the sewers and waterways of the city of Harbordeep for the next century. All the work shall be done by your own hands, never by proxy. Further, you shall tax none but your own house and deliver a tax of thirty percent unto me."

Dayson fell to her knees sobbing as the Gaes took hold.

Kellan rose to stand regally and commanded, "See to your task immediately."

Dayson scrambled out of the chamber to be immediately replaced by Ericka.

"Your Majesty," she bowed, "Huron is waiting to see you."

Kellan flopped down on his belly and curled his tail up around his side. He sighed. "I don't suppose it's good news?"

"It's probably not," he grumbled before Ericka could reply, "no one ever brings good news; it's always problems."

Ericka shrugged, indicating she didn't know what the priest wanted.

"Send him in," Kellan ordered, "but after him, I'm taking a nap," he added petulantly.

Ericka ushered him into the King's presentation chamber, rather than his throne room, which told Huron everything he needed to know about the King's mood.

Most of the time, the King was fairly affable and easy enough to work with as long as you kept in mind that he was, in point of fact, a Dragon.

When the King was in his draconic form, he tended to slip into a more 'Dragon-y' state of mind.

"Your Majesty," he greeted the King as he entered the room.

The King was eighty feet long, from tail to nose, and stood thirty feet high at the shoulders. Huron knew that his wingspan was double his length.

His scales were iridescent and shimmering as they reflected all the hues of light. Huron took in the sulking pose and the blacked section of the wall. "Difficult meeting?" Huron asked.

"I try, Huron," the King said, "to be fair to my Nobles, to allow them primacy over their own affairs," he grumbled. "But time and time again, they fail me."

"Yes, your Majesty," Huron nodded, "you have been a more fair and wise King than they could have asked for."

He was all too aware of the actions several of the Noble houses had taken over the years as they sought wealth and power. He had counseled the Lords and Ladies against such things, warning them that they were treading a path lined with shadows, but of course, they hadn't listened.

As he saw it, the problem was that even those who accepted Vi'Radia's Divine Blessings did so without devotion or piety, seeking only the power such blessings provided them.

"It's tempting to flame one of the houses to ash," the King growled, "but I know that as good as it would feel, it would be counterproductive."

"Might I ask which house has earned your ire today?" Huron asked.

"Dayson," the King sighed and twisted into his human form. "She's treated the citizens in her employ so badly that they've all abandoned her, seeking out new opportunities in Holmstead or Everwood."

"I'm not surprised," Huron said, "I've had many reports from the clergy regarding the ruinous taxes she's levied on them, along with the terrible working conditions and the general mistreatment from the members of the house."

"I've Geas'ed her to force her house to attend to their duties, alone, with no aid, for the next century, as well as increasing their tax to thirty percent," the King replied, "which will hopefully send a message to the other houses."

Huron grimaced. House Dayson would decline rapidly now. He shook his head and shelved his thoughts on the political climate of Harbordeep.

"I have some interesting news, your Majesty," Huron began.

"Good news or bad news?" The Dragon asked.

"That remains to be seen," Huron replied.

The King gestured for him to continue.

"Over a year ago, a strange man was found near Holmstead," Huron began, "he was human, level zero, and under a child's protection." Huron took a deep breath, "the man came to our world from another universe entirely, one without mana or skills. He joined the local Adventurers Guild and has stood against multiple waves. He has stated that mana will awaken in his universe in just over a year and a half, which will cause a massive tide, killing all the people on his world, as they are all level zero."

The King motioned for him to continue, his expression showing interest.

"The man, Robert Whitman, has concocted a plan to save his people by bringing them to our world until the tide has fallen," Huron said, "and to that end, he has constructed a Dungeon and an Adventurers Guild far to the west of Holmstead."

"He does know that Greenwold encompasses the entirety of the continent, does he not?" the King asked with a frown.

"He didn't," Huron admitted, "although I advised him of such and further explained that he would have to pay his tax to your Majesty, which he didn't object to."

The King appeared to be mollified and gestured for him to go on.

"The..." Huron searched for the right word, "opportunity here lies in that his world is rather heavily populated, and Bob is seeking to shelter as many of them as he is able."

"More people delving means more crystals," the King mused, his expression brightening, "and I'm sure you've offered the aid of the Church," he paused as Huron confirmed that with a nod, "so I have to ask, just how many people is he attempting to save?"

"Over seven billion, your Majesty," Huron replied calmly.

"Did you say seven billion, Huron? With a B?" The King asked incredulously.

"Yes," Huron confirmed, "although he did express his belief that he was unlikely to convince so many people to leave their homes."

"What, precisely is his plan?" The King asked.

Huron explained.

Bob was googling local gaming shops, having found little success with the D&D Forums. Almost all of the topics involving players looking for a group, or a group looking for players, referred to games conducted online.

Shaking his head, Bob closed his laptop and slid out of the booth, pausing to leave a tip on the table before abandoning Denny's for the morning. The phone call from Detective Hanson that morning had caught him unaware. He'd thought that having proven he was who he claimed to be, and further that the investigation which had charged Amber with his death having absolved him of wrongdoing, that he'd be left alone.

He didn't know what the Dean wanted, but if a pair of lawyers accompanied her, it likely wasn't anything to his benefit. Moreover, even if it was something that she perceived as being to his benefit, he was unlikely to care as his circumstances had changed, and his priorities had radically shifted.

Bob walked the two blocks to the bus stop and sat down to wait. He was nervous but eager for Sunday night. He'd gotten Dave's address, and he planned to scout the area this afternoon, checking for likely places where he could portal to. Then he planned to take the bus to the beach and go swimming. He'd spent most of his life in LA, and he'd never gone swimming in the ocean.

After that, he planned to drop a portal to the woods behind that shipping dock in Washington. He remembered a series of huge boulders halfway up the mountain, and he couldn't imagine they'd been moved. He would portal there, climb to the top and enjoy the sunset with Monroe, then spend the next morning playing with his buddy in the woods. He'd slaughter some monsters, gather some mana crystals, and then he'd go see the D&D group, hopefully recruiting them to his cause.

The bus pulled up with a hiss of air. Bob slid his bus pass from earlier that morning through the reader and took his seat.

He settled into his seat, pulling out his cell phone and opening the Kindle app. He let his worries fade away as he slid into an imaginary world.