Monroe

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty. Heavy.

Bob woke up slowly.

Monroe was still curled up on the bottom half of his bed, although the purr had subsided to a very light rumble and a slight vibration.

He carefully slid out of bed, making sure the sleeping floofer remained undisturbed.

Padding into the kitchen, he considered his options for breakfast and decided to go old school, an egg white omelet for himself and an egg yolk omelet for Monroe. Well, an egg yolk omelet and a half-pound of ham steak, diced neatly and heated.

He'd just finished when Monroe sauntered into the room, looking up at the counter with a chuff.

"Good morning, Buddy," Bob said to Monroe as he deposited his omelet and ham chunks in front of the big cat.

Monroe gave the omelet a tentative sniff before delicately nibbling on it, settling down in front of his meal.

Bob set to work on his own omelet and contemplated just how much his life had changed.

Less than nine months ago, he'd been living in a shitty apartment, living on pasta and eggs, working at a place where everyone hated him.

Now he had his own house, friends, and an easy job that paid stupidly well.

Honestly, once all the rush and bustle was over, Bob was going to be able to live happily on just an hour or two of delving a week.

"I hate to say it," Bob said to Monroe, "but getting blown here was probably the best thing that ever happened to me, at least," he hastened to add, "once I was able to bring you over."

"Generally," he added, recalling the pain of the explosion and the mental break he'd suffered from being trapped in the rat cave.

"Well, it ended up working out well anyways," he told Monroe, who had finished his omelet was working his way through his ham chunks.

Of course, everyone back on earth had the upcoming system integration to look forward to.

In much the same way that ancient inhabitants of low-lying island chains looked forward to Tsunamis.

Bob stood up and stretched slowly before heading into the bathroom. He'd summoned all the dishes with a persistent effect, so once Monroe was done eating, he'd pile them into the sink and drop the spell.

A nice hot shower seemed like just the thing, and then maybe he'd fly over to the west, continuing his search for a nice spot to dump the humans he intended to bring back to Thayland.

As he summoned a pair of huge, fluffy towels, he wondered what his friends were up to.

Thidwell grimaced as he watched Bailli storm out of his office.

"That could have gone better," he muttered as he waved a hand, a control air spell closing the door.

Asking Eddi to switch things up and head to the thirtieth floor to gather Conjuration Affinity Crystals had been simple, a pleasure even. The young man had volunteered to pull eight-hour delves until they had enough crystals.

Bailli had been less than enthused. She'd already repaid her fifty crystals and half a dozen extra as well, and while she was willing to contribute, she adamantly refused to entertain the notion of delving that deeply for that long.

She'd informed him rather heatedly that she did not have the necessary skills to create the shield described in Bob's addendum to the pamphlet, and she was all too well aware of the hazards of delving so deeply beyond your own mana density.

That small Dungeon aside, everything else was moving along quite smoothly. While everyone was eating a hearty breakfast, he'd pulled the Dimensionalists aside and offered them a bargain; If they would each add six additional rooms to the Inn above the Tavern, he would provide them with their Dimension Affinity Crystals and their Conjuration Affinity Crystals immediately, and waive the need to pay back the Dimension Crystals.

They'd lept at the opportunity, and before breakfast was finished, the additional rooms had been created, all done at cost by master dimensionalists.

Thidwell had spent the next few hours casting the ritual spells necessary to ensure water, heat, and air were all in place, in between meetings with Eddi, Harv and Elli, and Bailli.

While the information getting out with merchant caravan hadn't been intentional, and he'd have preferred it had it not, it appeared that the new arrivals from Harbordeep hadn't told a soul where they were going.

Or rather they didn't tell a soul who hadn't come with them.

All told, out of the one hundred and seventy-three arrivals, he had the twelve master Dimensionalists, who had delved long and hard to reach that goal, allowing him to count them as Adventurers.

Another fifty-eight actual Adventurers had arrived next to seventy-one laborers and thirty freshers.

He'd felt fairly confident that the seventy Adventurers would be able to handle the transition quickly, without needing any shepherding; however, the one hundred and one laborers and freshers would need to be shepherded if he wanted to ensure that the reputation of his Dungeon as being 'safe' held true.

From a purely numerical standpoint, it didn't matter if he lost a dozen freshers, but it would stain the image he'd carefully crafted, and he was too close to a major goal to allow something easily avoided to impede his plans.

Kelli had reported that there was one group who apparently knew Bob and had asked about him. Kelli hadn't thought to probe them about how they knew Bob, but he'd informed them that Bob was taking a short vacation after Curating the Dungeon and would be back in a bit over a week.

Things were progressing nicely.

Annisa restrained a sigh and suppressed the urge to shift in her seat.

She'd provided Ellen's report, as well as her own analysis over two hours ago, and the heads of the Church had been talking in circles ever since.

They simply couldn't seem to accept that things were going to change.

Her misery was brought to an end as the High Priest of Vi'Radia, a man named Huron, rose to his feet and stated firmly, "We aren't accomplishing anything here. Let's recess for now, and devote ourselves to prayer and contemplation. Annisa, if you would stay behind please," he finished.

Annisa waited in her seat.

The high priest sat on the edge of his desk and looked at her consideringly.

"You seemed restless," he said finally, "and you've had this information longer than the rest of us."

"If I may," Annisa said, "I feel that everyone seems to have missed the true problem."

Huron motioned for her to go on.

"In the short term, we aren't going to see a revolution in the streets of Harbordeep," she said slowly, "so focusing on a message of reconciliation between the Noble Houses and the commoners, while laudable, isn't going to stop what's coming."

"And what do you see coming?" Huron asked.

"Harbordeep is going to lose half its population," Annisa said firmly, "They'll take this new information and leave, seeking to improve their lots in life."

"The city is crowded as it is," Huron noted, "surely even the loss of half the commoners, while disruptive, shouldn't be a real problem."

Annisa shook her head, "All due respect, but you see this through the lens of the Noble houses," she said carefully, "the people who are going to leave aren't going to be the skilled artisans; those people have comfortable lives here."

"It's the laborers who are going to flee the city in droves," she went on, "the people who are barely scraping by, the ones who have waited to have children because they can't afford them, and the ones who have suffered most of the abuses perpetrated by the Noble Houses."

Huron leaned back on his desk, closing his eyes as he murmured a prayer to Vi'Radia.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and nodded slowly.

"You may be right," he admitted, "but what are the real consequences?"

"I'm not an economist," Annisa replied, "but the single result that concerns me is the sudden and drastic reduction of the flow of taxes into the King's coffers."

Huron drew in a sharp breath and bit his lip as he slowly let the breath out.

"You know as well as I," Annisa continued, "that the Noble Houses pay a pittance in taxes through various methods. Given our King's... volatile temper, how do you think he will react when he discovers he's lost thirty percent of his revenue?"

"Not well," Huron replied dryly.

"Taking Holmstead as an example," Annisa continued, "there are towns that are well designed and defended, where the cost of living is less than half of Harbordeep's."

Huron nodded as he mused aloud, "The King has never concerned himself overly with the small towns across the Kingdom, save that the Adventurers Guild in each pays their tithe, and of course offering what help the Kingdom can during a Tide."

"I expect that the King will seek to tax the outlying towns and cities more directly and more heavily," Huron said solemnly.

"And that's the real problem," Annisa agreed, "the people in those towns are there because they don't want to be under the rule of the Noble Houses or strangled by the King's tax, and you can be certain that the Noble Houses will be jockeying amongst themselves to be assigned to these various towns, placed in charge of gathering the King's tax."

Huron snorted in agreement as he smiled at her, "Would that all of the Noble Houses swore the oaths we have."

Standing up, he motioned for her to do the same.

"Let's go find a meal; I'd like to hear a bit more about the young woman who so bravely volunteered to undergo a fourth reincarnation in the service of the Chruch," Huron said.

Amber smiled bitterly as she accepted the Plant Affinity Crystal and signed the agreement to stand with Holmstead during the next wave and repay the Affinity Crystal fifty-fold.

"As the Plant Affinity Crystals can't be found in Holmstead," Thidwell rumbled from across the table, "I'll accept either Summoning or Conjuration Affinity Crystals in their place."

She nodded her agreement and moved away from the table, allowing the next person in line to step forward to make their Faustian bargain.

She'd been waiting months for a Plant Affinity Crystal. Months spent smashing beetles with a staff, gathering crystals, planning her future.

She had wanted to buy one, but it had become glaringly obvious that Thidwell wasn't going to let them out of his grasp so easily.

So, she now had to embrace the slaughter of millions of monsters.

Amber headed down to the ritual chamber. She wasn't going to wait any longer, not with the horde of people that had descended on Holmstead.

Bob looked over the flat plains with satisfaction.

He was ballparking the area at around forty square miles, with the northernmost end bound by a glacier that rose a solid mile from the ground and the other sides with steep hills that quickly became snow-capped mountains.

The area was quite flat, with two rivers running off the glacier disappearing into the southern hills.

Eight miles from north to south and five from east to west, it was exactly what Bob was looking for.

He could drive a Dungeon down in the center, low and broad. Build some dormitory-style housing...

Bob nodded to himself as he portaled down into the center of the huge valley.

It would take some time, but he could do it. Monroe slid off the Makres with the customary clicking sound and bounded into the grass.

With a squawking cry, several birds flew up from the grass, no doubt disturbed by Monroe's antics as the big cat burst out of the grass, his eyes tracking the fleeing fowl.

"They got away from you, didn't they, buddy?" Bob commiserated with Monroe, who had flopped onto the ground, and rolled onto his back, batting at a piece of grass.

Bob sat down on the ground next to Monroe and leaned back.

"I'll need some help," he quietly admitted, "there's no way I can do it all by myself, not unless I end up having a decade before the countdown to Earth's integration into the system starts."

With a sigh, he reached over and started scratching Monroe's ruff, an action that appeared to please his feline overlord, as a low rumbling purr filled the air.

"And something tells me that I'm not going to have that much time," Bob told Monroe as he continued to provide the affection that was the big cats just due.

Monroe abandoned his attempts to savage the grass and crawled over across Bob's lap, sprawling out as he closed his eyes and continued to purr, pleased with his human-servants offering of petting.

Bob dug both hands into Monroe's ruff, increasing the volume and frequency of the purrs.

"I just don't know," he said quietly, moving one hand to attend to Monroe's ears, which appeared to desperately need a good rubbing, "there are billions of people on Earth, and I can't figure out how to save much more than a million of them if that."

"I hope that I can find someone on Earth who can come up with a better plan," he whispered as he continued to pet Monroe.