Part 2
### Chapter 1: Chapter 262 Urban Planning Southern Style
Vernon Throckmorton stared at his mostly useless group of managers, searching their tanned and perfect faces for some hint of an idea about how to deal with the current situation. He saw nothing.
One of them was at least reading the briefing material he had dictated before the meeting. Ricardo was a new face at ACME. Nepotism at its finest. Someone that Ricardo was friends with knew Willy. Willy had hired him, and someone had tossed him to Vern. Vern couldn't fire him, just pass him on to someone else. He decided to start with Ricardo. Better to have him fail here and get rid of him fast.
"You look like you have some good advice for me, Ricardo. Why don't you brighten your Uncle Vern's day by giving it to me."
Ricardo spent another minute reading the paper, turned it over, looking for more information, and set it down on the table and sighed when he didn't find anything. The rest of the yes men around the table waited for his inevitable groveling and attempts to shift the blame.
"You're screwed, Vern. Fething screwed. What the hell were you thinking?" Ricardo had the calm of someone who knew his days were numbered and figured he might as well say what he thought.
Vern stood up, and his face turned from white to purple, and it surprised everyone when he didn't explode. "Such a firm statement. Let's see if you can back it up with any facts."
Ricardo was also surprised. He'd heard Vern didn't have much of a brain left, but the old man was at least willing to listen for 30 seconds. He shrugged and got to work. With several clicks on his laptop, four images appeared on the screen. All were of the lizardmen tribes that lived in the jungle surrounding New Vernon City. Formerly known as The Lost City of Mazqorat. "Mazqorat has more than two dozen tribes living in the jungles and villages around the city, but let's focus on these four. The Kraxmiroxtli, or Krax for short, are eight-foot-tall warriors who have guarded the Black Pyramid for 107 generations. Those are the big blue guys in the upper left. Next, we have the little red guys next to them. The Pixatatilii are three-foot tall, fast, and use poisonous blowguns. They control seven villages near the city that supply poisons, drugs, and luxury items like pickled snails to the main city.
The gat blue guys with the big chins are the Grixmottllicans. They act as traders, advisors, and priests for most of the warring tribes. Lastly, we have the Croctilidans. They specialize in fast-moving cavalry riding raptors and aerial scouts on weird feathered bird things."
"We all keeping up? Krax are fighters. Pix are assassins. Grix are priests/merchants. Crocs are scouts and cavalry. These four tribes dominate the area and control the other four tribes. They also hate each other, are constantly at war for control of resources, and all want to be in charge of the city. You marched in with your mercenaries and outnumbered the Krax, so they joined your cause to conquer the other tribes. One by one, they all agreed to follow you. You had total control of the city, and then you fethed it all up."
Vern liked how the young man came up with easy-to-say nicknames for all the natives. He was always getting them messed up. "I like the names. Is that all you have?"
Ricardo smiled. If Vern gave him a stage, he'd have fun with it. "Just getting started. Let's look at the city. Seems simple. Four large areas with the Black Pyramid in the middle. Under that is the older ruins, The Lost City. Again, split into four distinct quarters, each having an architecture that mirrors the tribes above. But it turns out there are little areas in the ruins corresponding to all the other tribes. Some only had a courtyard, others a few blocks. The ruins are big time important to the tribes. Who had what area was a matter of importance. Over and over, we see pictographs of the tribes marching along, always in a specific order. That's the clue to how you screwed the pooch."
As if on cue, Lorrie spoke up. "Yes, we saw all of that. And since it was important to the tribes, we gave them what they wanted. Each of the four main tribes was given their part of the city and control over the ruins below the pyramid. Our mercenaries hold the Pyramid. The system works."
Ricardo rolled his eyes. "Works so well that 27% of your mercenaries die each week, constantly losing days while they recover from the debuff and slowly increasing PTSD. You keep looking for which tribe is responsible. The answer is all of them. This isn't a loose assortment of tribes; it's one big corporation, similar to ACME."
Everyone around the table looked at each other and started laughing. "You had us for a bit, Ricky." " Nice joke to pull on your way out the door." "I can't believe I slept with that loser!"
Ricardo looked at Vern. Vern looked at the room. "Anyone whose name isn't Ricardo can leave. You're all fired. Get the hell down to HR, file a protest against me firing you, and see who can transfer to a new spot. Go on, get out!" He sent a message to his personal assistant. When everyone was gone, he sat down. "I ordered steaks and beer. Keep going. You were pointing out how all the tribes are in constant competition, and instead of directing their aggression at each other, as we would with low-level managers, we pointed them at us."
Ricky nodded. Vern caught on fast. "We need to put the Krax in charge. They are used to guarding the pyramid and keeping all the other tribes in line. Tell them they have been tested by the gods and passed. Then the Grix. They're used to keeping the Krax happy so they can get most of the work done. They control religion and the economy. The crocs work as transportation with those huge wagons pulled by stegadons. The pix come last out of the top four but ahead of the rest."
"Krax for muscle and doing the grunt work. They only get the top slot because nature made them walking tanks. They'd be working as bodyguards and in the mailroom currently. The Grix are accounting and morale. They keep the machine running. The pix are the HR department. If anyone gets out of line, the Pix make them disappear. The Crocs are logistics and information. Give them a strict pecking order and a little competition, and they'll get to work. Without order, they become a bunch of mid-level managers arguing over who gets to drive the car."
Vern was sketching out the new org chart. It made so much sense to think of things this way. "What else? I know you have some more tidbits for me."
Ricardo nodded but sat down to eat his steak. "What's my new title?"
"Assistant Head of the Southern Region. As soon as I get more control and move up, you become Head of the Southern Region. Feel free to crush the other three people and take over all of it. But be careful with Billy. Billy is vicious when cornered and holds a grudge like no one I've ever known. The little bastard is getting cocky. He's sending pictures of himself killing monsters. I don't see the point. Only idiots waste time killing monsters and playing the stupid game."
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Ricardo took a long pull from his beer, collecting his thoughts. "Sure, Assistant Regional Head works for now."
"Let's talk about dungeons. In the Lost City, you found two dungeons, one here and the other here." He pointed to two corners of the city. "I think we are missing two more dungeons. If you look at the pictographs in those quadrants, you see pictures of priests that look like the Grix tossing other tribes into a portal to the underworld, and in the Krax quadrant are pictures of a giant arena filled with warriors in an endless battle. Once we get things settled, we open up those two dungeons and get more revenue going from adventuring groups and guilds."
"Which is the next problem, transport to the city. This place is at the ass end of the world. A group has two ways to get here: Very expensive teleportation or a trek through the jungle. The Empire will keep charging us a premium to send people here. We need some sort of treaty with them. That goes back to having a stable city with some exports. But we can also cut a road through the jungle up to the tip of the Empire and make travel easier. We need to market it right. Four dungeons is a great reason to come down here and adventure."
Vern was thoughtful. "And a trade route and treaty might be a considerable amount of building points. We need those badly. I tried to get the board to force Billy to give me control of his, but it didn't work."
Finishing his steak, Ricardo reached for another beer. "Willy mentioned that at the game. I wasn't paying much attention that day. Something about wanting you guys in competition with each other and figuring things out yourselves. Seemed inefficient, to tell you the truth."
Vern slowly put down his beer. "Game? Just how well do you know Willy?"
Ricardo was on his fourth beer now, and a second steak had just appeared before him, brought up from the kitchens. ACME HQ had very good kitchens, at least on the executive level. "We're just gaming buddies. I play in one of his Dungeons and Dragons groups. There are twelve groups that he rotates between. I play a fighter in group #7 and a thief in group #2. It pays well and has some nice perks. He bought us all pods when GENESIS came out. A bunch of us have been in Mazqorat doing quests and exploring the dungeons since we found it. When he offered us jobs at ACME, a couple of us took him up on it. This seemed like a good fit for me, for obvious reasons."
Vern was drumming his fingers and thinking when a message from the game was sent to him and everyone else in their division.
Corporate Announcement
William Kovacs of the ACME corporation, AKA Baron William of Gadobhra, AKA 'The Butcher Baron,' has opened a trade route to the Demi-plane of Smoke and negotiated a trade agreement with a Lord of the Fae. ACME is the first corporation to open a trade route to another plane and the first corporation to sign a trade agreement with a Fae Realm.
ACME Corporation, Northern Division, under the control of William Horvacs, has gained 37,500 building points.
The Hamlet of Sedgewick, under the control of Mayor Suzette, the Lonely Barmaid, has gained 12,500 building points.
Captain Woodrat, Baron of Cingo, has increased his Aura by +1 and is acknowledged by the Queens as their representative to the Conjunction.
Alwyn, the Fae Lord of Summer, and his entourage will now be seated at a table only two removed from his Majesty, Oberon, at the next feast. He is encouraged to bring gifts. Red shiny gifts.
The Fae Realm of Alwyn, Lord of Summer, has been granted an increase. He may now claim a realm twice its former size.
Vern ground his teeth so hard he cracked a molar. Ricky whistled long and low. "How the hell did they get to the elemental planes? That's awesome. My group would love to head there."
It was 4:30 a.m., and Samantha Duran was waking her husband, Steven. She had taken the precaution to have a 24 oz. mug of Morning Thunder tea on the table next to him. She had the drink programmed to appear within 30 seconds of hitting the button on her phone. Delaying whatever Wally needed him for was worth the 30 seconds. He needed something with caffeine in it to get him moving. Steven routinely worked until past 2 a.m. "Your lord and master calls. He seems in a good mood and needs you to meet with upset corporations.
Steven downed half the tea, kissed his wife, and stumbled into the meeting room wearing a robe and slippers. He knew Wally would alter his image to show him in business casual, looking shaved and alert. He saw that no less than seven of the large corporations were asking for immediate meetings. "My oh my. What the hell did you do to upset them, Wally?"
The AI appeared on the screen. "Why, I've done nothing, nothing at all. They are protesting that someone else is winning. Look at this notification from the system."
Steven read it twice. "How interesting. I'm guessing that our wandering Butcher made it home, and the ACME representative got right to work on setting up some trading agreements with whoever brought him home. The Fae part of this is intriguing. I hadn't expected that to take off so soon. The system thinks it's significant. That is a lot of building points just for the initial contract."
Wally nodded. "Indeed. They can do quite a bit with that. A lot is going on in the Northern part of the Empire. Several corporations and nobles have noticed and are allying against ACME. Gadobhra scares them. No one wants someone else to control it. I am curious to see if normal economic sanctions and political pressure will work against Baron Billy. They certainly haven't worked against corporations in the real world for the last fifty years. Watching things unfold is becoming more and more fun."
Steven looked at the waiting executives and the blinking red lights on the screen. "How about dealing with that crowd? I'm not looking forward to it."
Wally grinned. "But I am. They were all given the same resources and told to build the world, improve trade, explore, and find the secrets of the world. Half of them are, and half don't seem to know how. Guess which half we have to deal with today? And the really funny thing to me is that things are just getting started." The lights quit blinking, and the voices of the representatives of the largest corporations spilled into the room.
"Greetings, gentlemen. I can see you are all as excited about the opening of new trade routes as I am. How can I assist you today?"
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### Chapter 2: Chapter 263 Accountants
With a small flash of light, several people appeared on the teleporter at Rowan Keep. They paused momentarily, looking around at the new construction and half-built walls. Four of the men were bodyguards. The other three were imperial bureaucrats. As they stepped aside, three scribes, one groom, and the first of ten horses appeared. The bureaucrats could be easily recognized by their more expensive clothing, shoes not made for walking outdoors, and perpetual scowls. They seemed to have the same look regardless of who they worked for. Falcar wondered if it was some uniform.
One turned and looked at the teleporter. "This is certainly insufficient for a fortress of the proposed size."
Captain Falcar was standing to the side of the teleportation stone. "Greetings, travelers. I am Captain Falcar of the Emperor's Legion. May I be of assistance? This is a larger stone than the average for a rural Legion Keep. Normal stones are 10' to a side and hold 10,000 mana. We are blessed with a 15' stone that can hold 100,000 mana, and we keep it fully charged to provide quick travel to and from Rowan Keep."
The man who had spoken snorted slightly and walked to the smiling captain. "Thank you for telling me things I am an expert in, Captain. I am Theordis Thancton, accountant for the Office of Accounting of the Emperor's Legion. I and my associates are making a surprise inspection to observe of the ongoing construction. I am amazed you can accomplish so much with such a small teleporter. Are you sourcing some of your materials locally?"
Falcar made a small eye movement that told a lurking soldier to report to the centurion before smiling again at the Imperial bean counter. "Baron William is paying for all of the materials and the improvements' cost. He has chosen to source the materials locally since he owns all of the local materials."
Theordis snorted. He had friends and family in the construction business. He hated local sources of materials. If he had his way, the Legion would never use them. "We will need to replace this teleporter with at least a twenty-foot stone, if not twenty-five. With less, a garrison big enough to fill this can't be shifted as needed."
Falcar's bland smile became a thin line. Every person in the bureaucracy felt they were an expert on how the Legion should be run. He was happy to see his Centurion arrive.
"Luckily, travel has been very minimal lately. And our supply of mana is very good. We can shift men and horses as fast as every ten seconds if the stone on the other end can keep up. Good to meet you; I am Marcus, the commanding Centurion of Rowan Keep. I am also surprised to see you. Shouldn't a notice have been sent so I could provide you with proper lodging and transportation and prepare the documents you needed to see?"
Theordis brushed a bit of dust from the shoulder of his black velvet jacket. "The dust here must be just terrible. No need for documents today. I am here to find the flaws in construction that invariably appear as local contractors try to skimp on supplying the Legion with their best services. My colleagues are here to talk to the Baron about his taxes and his requirements for imperial storehouses. Just ignore us, and we'll all get along fine. I'm sure you understand."
Marcus bowed. "As you wish." He turned and walked back the way he had come. "Captain? Please instruct the men to ignore these people and let them go about poking into things."
The functionaries moved about the Keep, followed by scribes, bodyguards, and horses. A man holding a pallet of building stone was blocked by their path. Startled, Theordis stared at the man waiting patiently for them to move by. His mind did the calculation as his eyes kept staring. That was at least a cubic yard of stone bricks. At 150 pounds per cubic foot, the man was lifting two tons. "Dear heavens. How are you lifting that heavy load." There was scattered laughter from nearby. Theordis was wracking his brain to puzzle out the man's class. He must have at least a STR of 20, several levels of Haul , and be under the effects of a potion. Or possibly an Earth Mage with a spell to move rock?
The man sighed slightly. "You pick it up in one place and put it down in another. Although, I think it gets harder to do the longer you have to sit and talk with someone about how to move rocks. Maybe you and the circus to move past so I can deliver this load?"
Theordis was taken aback at being talked to in such a tone of voice by a common laborer and was about to say something when Manfred and Geoffrey took him by the arms and started walking again. "Best to move out of the man's way lest he drops it on you." The worker nodded his thanks to them, waited for the last horse to get out of his way, and resumed his journey to deliver the load of bricks. Manfred, the most practical of the three, had come from humble beginnings than Theordis and had more respect for artisans at work. And he was seeing a lot of them today, many lifting heavy loads of materials. He moved their entourage out of one of the gates and to a grassy area outside to where a line of merchant tents was set up. "Here, this is much nicer. Near some food and away from the dust. The horses can graze on the grass, and we can look around before heading to see the Baron".
Down the hill, perhaps ten miles away, was a little village that, according to the Imperial Census, was little more than a few houses and half a dozen merchants. It barely counted as a hamlet. Beyond it, they saw the imposing bulk of the City of Gadobhra, broken towers sticking up like the teeth of some horrid creature. Theordis was still upset at being spoken to that way but took a deep breath and continued his work. "I need to see how much they have skimped on the depth of foundations and the thickness of the walls and how cheap the stone is. That will do for today, and then we can go have words with the local Baron." From the cross-section that Manfred could see, the walls looked quite thick. But he was a taxman, not a construction accountant. Each had their specialties for pulling money out of the local nobility.
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Theordis took one bodyguard and one scribe with a measuring tape. They wandered the length of the wall until they found a ramp down. He talked as he went, and the scribe nodded in time to his words. "It's always the parts you can't see that they skimp on. Walls this big should have a depth of at least fourteen feet. I doubt that these have even twelve!" Measuring showed that from the edge of the surface to the hard-packed gravel was exactly twelve feet. "Ha, just as I expected. They'll have to dig this up and extend it down two more feet, plus another two feet for good measure!"
"By 'they,' I'm assuming you mean me." Theordis turned to where a large muscled man was standing nearby. He had close-cropped hair and was clean-shaven in the style of the legion. He wore sturdy boots, leather pants, a carpenter's apron, and a bright red shirt. Goggles of some type were pushed up on his forehead. A bevy of carpenters squares, plumb bobs, and other surveying tools hung from his belt and apron. He extended a gloved hand. "Jorges. I'm in charge of this project. What the hell are you talking about? We aren't digging up anything."
Theordis ignored the hand and struggled to stand as tall as he could, but the man addressing him was at least half a foot past six feet. "You will extend the foundations of these walls down to sixteen feet, or they will not be approved, which will play badly with your Baron. And don't play ignorant of Imperial Building codes."
Jorges smiled. "Never. Not by an inch. Follow me, and You may need a longer tape measure." They followed him along the level ground of the foundation and came to a wooden ramp going down. "We go down a lot further than sixteen feet. That's crap for walls this big. You need to be on bedrock and packed stone. We dug to the hard stone and either cut down to where we needed to be or dug out the dirt and filled it with hard-packed gravel. A fortress stands or falls on its foundations, and none of mine are going to fall over."
The scribe looked at his tape measure and the walls. "Sir, to what depth is the lowest part?" Jorges showed him how to read the markings on the walls. "We started with a perfectly level base and a depth of thirty feet. Stone base, then a ten-foot high wall section, filled with large stones weighing a ton or two with gravel in the crevices. Then cap it with a two-foot thick layer of stone and start the next ten feet of wall. It's all interlocking pieces that aren't moving, and I pity the person that tries to dig through or under. Once we have the foundations perfect, the aboveground walls go up and won't move for a thousand years."
Theordis was trying not to be impressed by the construction but couldn't resist saying. "Unless the enemy has a capable Earth Mage who is better than what you have in the fortress to stop him. Any fortress can be destroyed by magic. That's why you need a good contingent of the Legion, competent mages, and a large enough teleport stone to handle the job."
Jorges said nothing but beckoned the three to follow him. They went down to the thirty-foot level and along to a section of stone just being laid. Two people were concentrating on their work, carving runes into the stone. Nearby was an alchemist tending a vat of molten silver, and an artist sketched runes in colored pencil ahead of the two rune carvers. The stone they were working on was perfectly white marble. The stone of the walls at this level was a dark grey with small silver flecks. The scribe made a note of the tier 2 materials and pointed them out to his superior. Theordis needed to know where they were getting this stone. Tier 2 materials were generally only mined from a hundred or more feet into the earth.
Jorges pointed to the runes. "If someone brings an Earth Mage to tear down my walls, they better be tough enough to handle a God."
"An invocation? Are you putting an invocation on the entire fortress walls? That's madness. Make an altar to Ares and give him a dozen bullocks in sacrifice each month! "
A smile appeared on Jorges's face, showing his amusement. "Mars has his good points, but I want protection for my walls. Nothing is better than Hermes for that."
Theordis rolled his eyes. "Madness and a waste of time, and it makes a mockery of Ares. All Legion fortresses are dedicated to the God of War. No, this won't do. You can't waste all this time and money venerating some lesser god of shopkeepers and flower delivery." Around him, all sound died down. The two rune crafters stood up.
The first brushed the dust from his uniform and settled a fancy hat on his head. His uniform looked remarkably like that of an Imperial Courier. "Now, now. No need to be so ignorant about things. I'm sure it's just poor upbringing that prevents you from seeing just how cool Hermes is. He gets a lot of respect around here. He's a god who listens to shepherds, shopkeepers, and cunning pranksters. Also, messengers, which I'm sure includes the Emperor's Couriers, of which I happen to be one. When you consider that commerce and money keep the empire moving, you might re-think the importance of a God of Shopkeepers."
The other person stood, a young woman with striking good looks and flashing eyes. She glared at the intruders angrily. No dust or dirt clung to the long white gown she wore. On her neck, she wore a symbol of Hermes. "And I'll be happy to help with your re-education if I ever have the opportunity. Your words are rude and will be remembered." She gave them a look that sent a shiver down the imperial functionaries' spines. They turned and left hurriedly.
Later that day, one of the Legionnaires came down to pass a small bag with two silver pieces in it to Suzette. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but a very worried scribe and soldier asked me to give this to you in the hopes that you'd make an offering from them to Lord Hermes. They don't want you to have a bad impression of them, despite who they work for."
She smiled at the thought, "Thank them for me, please. And tell them to spend the silver at the local tavern to encourage commerce. That will please Hermes."
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