Chapter 100: Book 2: Chapter 5

With our agreement made, Quinntexxis’ gargoyle plodded down the corridor leading us out into the sunny compound. There was another grey brick building not far from us, off to the right, that she led us to. The cell blocks themselves were further into the compound. When we were halfway Quinntexxis lost patience with the turgid pace of the gargoyle and one of our escorting sentinels picked the barely conscious creature up and carried him the rest of the way.

<Are you sure about this, Torin> Quixbix whispered in my mind privately. <What if Dean can’t help you out with Quinn? The imp/fairy liaison can be a stubborn prick. None of us like him. You’ll be stuck with a significant portion of your roster trapped in the prison or be forced to go toe to toe with the sentinels. There are thirty of them here in Bellamy Creek and the same number at each of the other three facilities ready to reinforce.>

I’ve got this under control, I thought back at him.

Which was true. I was quietly confident Dean would pull strings on my behalf and even if he didn’t, there was the potential command I had over Quinntexxis to fall back on.

Ideally, it wouldn’t come to that, though.

In fact, once the notion of cutting this deal had occurred to me the concept had started to expand, and my avaricious nature ignited into full blaze. My aims for what we could get out of this were now much higher, but I didn’t want to jinx anything by speculating out loud.

Quinntexxis led us to a small conference room on the first floor. The walls were non-descript; the same kind of grimy-white stuff office cube farms were made of. The room was dominated by several rectangular varnished pine tables that had been pushed together in the middle. There were several operational laptops hooked up to a tangle of cables in the centre that snaked down through a gap between the tables to floor sockets. The carpet was a dull green. In the corner was a large xerox machine and water cooler.

Jackson let out a small yelp of joy when he saw the functioning laptops.

[Here we are] Quinntexxis started. [There is no podium in the prison, so no tablets. You will have to use these native devices to review the records of the inmate population, as inefficient as they are. The records have been updated to detail what choices the inmates made during character creation, though those choices won’t initialise until they have been released.]

“Really?” I said in surprise and pointed to the gargoyle being cradled in the sentinel’s arms.

 [Cameron here is an exception. They needed to tether me to someone and picked him because of his character choice.]

“Did they not tell the poor bastard what effect picking stoneskin gargoyle would have on him?”

[I’m sure they did. Cameron was a prison informant. What little I’ve managed to glean from his fuzzy consciousness indicates he had just been outed and was afraid of repercussions.]

“Snitches get stitches,” Anastasia helpfully supplied.

[I’m fairly certain they meant to give him more than stitches young lady] Quinntexxis answered, not quite understanding the reference. [He chose this species for its prodigious survivability. Not that he would have benefitted from it if they hadn’t placed me here. I get the impression Cam wasn’t very quick on the uptake even before he became a gargoyle. Anyway, I believe you can create physical copies of the records from that machine over there.]

It was the sentinel who pointed to the printer, we’d likely have had to wait several minutes for Cameron the gargoyle to do it.

[If you’ll excuse me, I must keep Cam moving, if he goes dormant it can take hours to wake him up again.]

“One last thing, Quinntexxis. Where is the power coming from for the tech?” I asked her.

[Each facility has an operational generator with an ambient mana converter addon. Many of the native security features utilise electricity. It was less invasive to use them than to build anew. Also, the unusually high ambient mana levels on this planet made it an efficient decision.]

With that, the sentinel holding the gargoyle did an about-face, tearing a hole in the crappy carpet as it did so and marched out of the room.

I clapped my hands with false joviality. “Well, let’s get to it shall we.”

 

õõõ

 

We let Jackson, our resident computer ‘nerd’, do the metaphorical heavy lifting. My computer skills were average at best and had more often than not been bent towards making the occasional meme on social media and navigating porn sites. I knew my way around the Microsoft office suite well enough, but Jackson’s fingers practically flew across the keyboard.

After my accident and effective exile to Flint I’d lost access to the complimentary equipment that being surrounded by scholarship athletes in a successful football program provided. My ancient tower desktop that I’d dusted off had crapped out a couple of weeks after I arrived. It was a miracle it had lasted that long.

Besides, I could barely cover the electricity bill even without a computer running.

In less than half an hour he had cobbled together a program to sift through the three and half thousand inmate records, sorting and collating them with pertinent information which he disseminated to the other machines.

His skills probably saved us three or four hours’ worth of work trawling through the records manually.

While Jackson feverishly typed away, I quizzed Quixbix on some of the latest Darkwyrlds revelations.

“Quix, what else can you tell me about this Carolus Vonnit character and the emancipation group he founded? Considering the direction of travel my faction is taking, is this something we need to worry about? While you’re at it, how do you know Quinntexxis?”

<Quinn and I are first-generation support programs. We are part of the first group of imps and fairies created. Unlike what happened with you, we aren’t usually handed out at character creation, and we certainly weren’t on Vantia, the first world integrated into the Darkwyrlds by the Framework. We had several years to wait before somebody earned the right to merge with us. So…us first-genners all got to know one another. There wasn’t much to do but talk and watch you lot.

<Later generations were created as and when they were needed, so aren’t as familiar with one another. Which left them as complete personality vacuums if you ask me.>

“We didn’t,” Anastasia snarked.

Quixbix huffed a little at her needling.

<You’re lucky to have me. Most other imps are all work and no witty repartee. Their lack of interaction with their hosts limits their usefulness> the imp said defending himself.

“Whatever,” the tiny blonde huffed dismissively.

I still wasn’t sure what the source of the antagonism between the two of them was. That was something to investigate when we had a bit more time on our hands.

“Quix, please continue,” I urged him and gave Ana a meaningful glare.

<Carolus was Quinn’s previous porter. He was a Flamepurge Celestial King with a Knight-Marshal Paladin class. A valiant, and you know I feel about them. At least, that’s what he would have been before he was executed, which must have been a recent development. He was still under siege on one of his stronghold worlds when my last porter accidentally challenged a far superior combatant to a duel to the death.

<I think you can guess how that ended> Quixbix chuckled darkly.

I snorted my impatience, and the imp took the hint and got back on track. <As I was saying, Carolus was Quinn’s last host and he was very powerful at the end, but he didn’t start out that way. He was just an idealist living on a backwater world the rest of the galaxy barely gave two shits about.

<I’m not sure, but I think he was a slave who outwilled his owner, killed him, and then went on a bit of a rampage. A killing all the master’s type of deal and he came across the fairy brooch in the belongings of a local warlord’s treasure chest.>

“You mean he went all Khaleesi on them,” Shana noted with a smile.

Quixbix paused for a second as he thought over her comment. <Ah, Game of Thrones, yeah, I’m familiar with that one. An apt analogy indeed as I shall soon describe. Anyway, he got access to Quinn when he put on the brooch and with her help and advice quickly took control of the shitty little planet he was born on and increased his class and species tiers.

<If you repeat this in her presence, I will deny it until Torin’s death when we are forever separated. She is very good at what she does. Quinn is very much a big picture type of girl and always has her eye on the grander stage. Now, Carolus didn’t precisely create the Moral Emancipators, the Liberation Army, or any of the other dozen or more groups that operated as part of his valiant coalition. It was more like he revitalised pre-existing but weakened organisations, many of which Quinn had a hand in creating with her previous porters over the millennia.

<Don’t blame her for that, though. Fairies often end up with the valiant-classed, much like imps tend to be paired with the notorious. This must be what got her in so much trouble. With Carolus, she finally had someone capable of bringing everything her previous hosts had built together and he unleashed it on the galaxy. It was truly awe-inspiring what she managed, a work of art considering the Framework’s favouring of the notorious, but also a terrifying act of utter folly.

<The true nature of her charges has always been Quinn’s biggest blind spot. Carolus launched his purge against slavery and those who practised it. This wasn’t the first, there have been six other large-scale attempts over the years. However, there hadn’t been any in close to a thousand years and by dint of the Darkwyrlds being much larger by that point, so was the scale of this purge.

<Although they called them valiant crusades instead of purges, it amounted to the same thing. Carolus’ people would move against a city, faction, or world. Takeover, free the indentured, gather fresh recruits and then move on to the next target. All very noble, at least, noble by intent.>

Shana pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I know it might seem odd to say this with what we are doing, but that doesn’t sound so bad. I’m not saying there wouldn’t have been casualties and some suffering. There always is during conflicts, but I don’t see why Quinntexxis would be punished for helping him do this. It’s not all that different from what we and everybody else is doing, is it? Our presidents have started wars for less.”

<I’m getting to that part. It quickly spiralled out of control as these things are wont to do. As much as Quinn tries to blame selfish traitors for the atrocities committed, they were just repeating what happened under Carolus direct command first. The corruption in his ranks may have led to his ultimate downfall but it wasn’t the cause of his condemnation.

<To be honest, I think she is in denial about what he became, or should I say what he always was.

<Carolus was a zealot, whose own experiences drove him to see his crusade in terms of black and white, absolutes. All slaves must be freed no matter the cost. This was fine for the collared, you just took the collar off them and boom, they’re free. It wasn’t so simple for the contracted.

<If the contracts went poof when the holder died, it wouldn’t have been so bad. There would have been bloodshed, yes, but not enough to justify her erasure. The problem is they don’t, and the ownership of many servitude contracts were inheritable and passed down through families…> Quixbix left it hanging there.

Shana gasped aloud as realisation struck and Quixbix’s apt analogy comment fully sank in.

“Children,” I said quietly. “They killed the contract owner’s children too.”

<Yes. The utter destruction of entire family lines, every root and branch. It was the only way to ‘free’ the contracted. To leave no one alive who could inherit and enforce the contract until its eventual expiry. For Carolus, there would be no compromise, no act too unconscionable, not in the name of the greater good. And the valiant-classed flocked to his cause, for the reasons you can imagine.>

I knew what he meant. Freeing slaves would be considered a valiant act, even if they butchered tens of thousands of innocents to do it. Something, according to their class, they technically had to do. The wealth and experience this path afforded while satisfying the requirements of their class would be the real motivator for many, though. Just like the crusades from our own history.

“I don’t buy it,” Anastasia snorted as Quixbix finished. “The bloody Framework does as much, if not worse every time it integrates a world. It isn’t going to throw a hissy fit if some dickholes off a few rugrats.”

“Ana!” Shana cried with genuine upset.

“Oh, I’m not suggesting it isn’t horribly wicked,” she said in a softer, conciliatory tone. “I’m a carefree bitch, not a monster. Just that it doesn’t sound like something the Framework would issue a punishment for, given their own track record for blood and carnage.”

<Bugger> Quixbix swore. <I hate to admit it, but Bunches is right. It doesn’t really add up. Something else must have happened after I re-entered the imp pool. I was put in isolation for deliberately getting my last porter killed. Which by Framework standards is probably a greater crime than Quinn doing what she is supposed to do, guiding and helping her person. Even if that person is a murderous, self-righteous, malignant, twat.>

“How big is the gap in your historical timeline?” I pressed him.

<About three years. Long enough for something significant to happen.>

“Fine. Let’s get back on point; how dangerous is this group to us?”

<Hard to say> the imp started thoughtfully. <They can’t get to Earth at all until the plexus connection to the planet opens in five and a half months. Even then, I doubt there will be a public gate in the Earth network which makes it difficult and dangerous to try and come here.

<On the other hand, the coalition was scattered and on the ropes before my forced seclusion. If they were on the run, it might make one or more of the groups desperate or stupid enough to try coming here without an open gate to guide them. There are always some yahoos who think the risk is worth the reward.

<Invasion forces would still be limited in level, though. Even after the connection is made with the plexus network, the Framework actively blocks the navigation of vessels with overpowered passengers for a decade.>

As I nodded my understanding, Jackson who had been so intent on his work that he’d missed the whole conversation spoke up.

“We are good to go. Hey, what’s going on? Why is Shana upset?”

“I’ll clue you in later, Jackson. It’s nothing to worry about right now and we have a job to do if we are going to finish the recruitment and transfers by nightfall.”

The Moral Emancipators or whichever splinter group that might come knocking was something else to worry about down the line. I would have to get Quixbix to give me a full rundown on how the plexus network and the gates worked after we had finished the necessary early establishment work.

I had a few months before it was something I needed to turn my attention to.

Jackson described what he had setup and how to use the spreadsheets he’d put together for us. I sat down at the table and pulled the laptop towards me and perused the information on the screen.

Our job had been made far easier as the Framework had updated the prison records with a lot of additional information that had been gathered during the inmate’s integration assessments.

We didn’t have to rely on the prison’s official records of an inmate’s convictions which could be inaccurate or be missing vital details. A list of the offences they were truly responsible for had been included.

Jackson was able to use this and perform a keyword search to sort the prisoners into various groups.

More than that, the Framework assessment also included a kind of psychological profile of every inmate. This included a threat assessment and what Quixbix informed me was a remarkably accurate prediction of recidivism rates for their specific criminal predilections. We would need to review the full assessment of any potential Canon candidates, of course, but it helped narrow the field a little more.

Last, but not least, there was the full details of their character aptitude and what they had selected during character creation. Unlike the rest of the population who were all processed within the same minute and had to be offered do-overs if they refused to cooperate, the incarcerated were processed later and couldn’t exit back to the real world until they made their selections.

Unlike everybody else, they were safely ensconced in their shielded prisons and could be left to sit there unseeing and defenceless until they capitulated to the whims of the Framework.

When reading through the details of my class I learned that the number of active signatories on my Corsair’s Canon had a range of factors that made it a bit more complicated than I had envisaged in those first few days.

First, I got a flat number that didn’t change unless I went up the class tree to the next tier. Two officers, five full crew members and ten deckhands.

Second, came my class additions. This element was based on the number of my Corsair Captain levels. Each level allowed me to sign an extra officer, three crew, and six deckhands to the Canon. As I was level five that meant five, fifteen, and thirty respectively. This would rise to six, eighteen and thirty-six after I signed a handful and made level six.

Third, my flagship, Marena’s Mercy, made a contribution based on the current grade of the vessel. Currently one officer and five crew, but no deckhands for being a mark one vessel. Unlike my levels, the flagship increases to the canon’s allowance were not uniform. Mark two vessels contributed five officers, twenty crew and twenty deckhands.

That was a big increase between mark one and mark two and it only got larger after that.

Marena’s Mercy started out as a mark one ship as Anastasia’s dungeon had been level one. All level one through ten dungeon cores created mark one ships. If Anastasia had been within the eleven to twenty range when I claimed her, the ship she formed would have automatically been the larger mark two. The progression continued in that vein, claimed cores from level twenty-one to thirty resulted in a mark three ship and so on.

Marena’s Mercy was not stuck as mark one, though.

The ship would evolve to mark two when Ana’s dungeon gained five more levels. And would continue to grow for every five levels after that.

Ultimately, Marena’s Mercy had a far greater capacity for growth than Dungeon ships where the captain elected to claim an already high-level core. When Ana’s dungeon hit level twenty-six Marena’s Mercy would evolve into a mark six vessel. Had I claimed a level twenty-six dungeon it would only be mark three.

The catch, of course, is that we needed to level Anastasia’s dungeon to unlock the benefits of her maximised growth potential. Which was something emptying the prisons could help with.

Back on the recruitment front, there was one special exception. I could sign as many people who had taken the basic U-grade Corsair class or any of the later P-grade options on the Corsair class tree as I wanted. This included Dungeon Corsair’s which was the precursor to my class Dungeon Corsair Captain.

I couldn’t sign other captains to my canon as they would have a Canon of their own. In fact, anyone who became a Dungeon Corsair Captain would be automatically removed from my canon.

These signees would not count towards my total. Unfortunately, for the purposes of my recruitment quest they didn’t count either as they operated under some specialist rules.

However, those on the Corsair class tree came with some drawbacks, one for them and one for me.

For them, anyone with a Corsair class that signed a canon was then class tree locked in a similar manner that I was. Basic Corsairs would have a few more options than me, as Dungeon Corsair was only one of a handful of choices they could make at the next tier. Two of the others included Corsair Marine and Corsair Specialist. Whereas I was committed to the dungeon captaincy route.

For me, the problem was that Corsairs had a bit more freedom when signed to my canon. They could leave for another captain’s crew if that captain also had a canon. Not a problem in the short term, as the only captain on Earth they would have nowhere to go. However, in the future, it opened up a way for disgruntled followers to defect to other pirate factions.

These were the only factors that influenced my numbers currently. There were more, mostly revolving around when and if I started expanding my fleet.

For today, it meant I had eight officer positions, the ninth already occupied by Trisha Belmont who was embedded with the governor in Lansing. Twenty-seven crew slots, as Jackson held the twenty-eight spot, and forty-six deckhands available. Eighty-one positions total.

I could have more people on my ship and have them fight for me, but they couldn’t be signed to the Canon, which meant my influence over them would be based solely on my personal abilities if they were free.

Jackson had used his program to sift out the one hundred and fifty most promising candidates. Rather than splitting them up, I decided I would prefer each of us to review all one hundred and fifty and give each a rating out of five. We’d then combine all the scores of our four independent assessments and that should allow us to rank the candidates from most promising to least.

You are reading story Corsairs & Cataclysms at novel35.com

Jackson made the excellent suggestion that we should randomise our lists, so any biases for candidates being assessed earlier or later would be minimised, which was a very good idea.

We went to work and two hours later we were done. Anastasia had a little difficulty because of her current size until Jackson activated some voice command software. Soon we had ranked the shortlist of one hundred and fifty candidates.

Quinntexxis had popped back in a few times as we were reading and made it clear that she wouldn’t risk bringing inmates over from the other facilities and I would have to level up from signing prisoners here in Bellamy Creek. I only needed to sign nine, maybe ten to get me over the line and we should have enough in this facility to do it.

I gave Quinntexxis a list of the Bellamy Creek inmates that made the even-shorter shortlist. Now I just had to convince them to agree.

 

õõõ

 

While we waited for the sentinels to bring in the first interviewee, we rearranged the tables in the conference room and put a chair in the middle for the inmate.

Quixbix buzzed in my ear that we were wasting our time and that I should just force their thumbs on the canon and get it over with. He was right in so far as I didn’t need their consent to sign them. However, I would rather have willing participants than reluctant malcontents.

You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, my grandmother always used to say when I was young.

Our first arrival, Latavius Thompson, was escorted in by a pair of sentinels. He was a six-foot African American man with an Afro-fade haircut that was beginning to grow out at the sides. He was dressed in the prison’s navy-blue scrubs. I analysed him as he took his seat.

 

Latavius Thompson (Human/Voltic Infernal suppressed)

Civilian (Z) 1 / Hexbolt Soldier (N) 1 suppressed

Character Aptitude: Extremely High

Loot Value: Nil

Threat: Abysmally Low

XP Value: 60

Current Affiliation: None

 

I’d started analysing everyone out of habit even if it was unnecessary. It was the only method I’d been able to verify that seemed to increase my natural score in the Preternatural Insight skill, which was now up to three, six with my class skill bump. Now that I had Acrobatics as a class skill, I intended to incorporate a gymnastics regimen into my training schedules to help improve that naturally as well.

Unlike a couple of the others, Latavius Thompson didn’t score a perfect twenty on our assessments. His psych profile revealed that he had a pronounced independent streak and a severe distrust of authority. Loose translation, he didn’t take being ordered around very well.

He was two years into a twenty-five-year sentence for murder. He had been running a modest, but successful, drug-dealing outfit that he built from the ground up himself. Officially he didn’t complete high school, rarely attending after he turned fourteen, but his IQ was in the one-forties. The success of his drug business was a testament to his acumen.

However, his temperament was what led to his incarceration after he stabbed to death one of his suppliers whom he believed to be cheating him. It was just bad luck his victim had been under police surveillance at the time and the whole incident was caught on camera.

Jackson and Shana, both gave him a three and I could understand why they downrated him, his history was a bit troubling. Ana appreciated his ruthless streak and fived him regardless of possible attitudinal clashes.

I gave him a five as well, but for different reasons. He was the only Extremely High aptitude candidate out of all the prisoners, and I felt that it was worth the risk of incorporating someone with his authority bucking nature. That and his intelligence. If I nurtured him correctly, he could become a very capable lieutenant.

“Latavius, welcome,” I opened with.

“LT,” he replied as he casually looked around the room and then at us. “Only my mother and the warden call me Latavius and you’re neither.”

He grinned, showing off his pearly whites.

I couldn’t help but grin back at his forwardness.

“LT then, do you know why you’re here?”

“Nope, but you sure ain’t no parole board,” he answered me with a chuckle.

“True enough. Well, I’ll cut to the chase. The world has changed, but you know that. I’m here to offer you an opportunity to get out early. Start levelling your class rather than waiting inside these walls hoping that whatever monster is strong enough to break in won’t immediately gobble your level one civilian ass up.

“You’re a smart man LT. I bet you’ve been reading the help files while you’ve been idling in your cellblock.”

LT reacted slightly at that comment, which confirmed he had. Another reason I wanted the smart ones onboard was that they would be the ones most likely to have done their research and understand the new normal and how the world had changed. And just as importantly, how they needed to adapt to take advantage of those changes.

“I’m not just offering an opportunity to get out of here and get strong, but to put money in your pocket while you’re doing it.”

“What did you have in mind?” LT asked after a few seconds of silence.

I looked at Jackson and he quickly outlined what the Canon was and the terms that LT would be serving under, for him.

“You want me to become a pirate? Shit, I can’t even swim,” he laughed when Jackson had finished outlining the details.

“We can rectify that,” I promised him.

“Okay,” LT started. “I’ll sign up on one condition.”

“Oh, and what might that be,” I said cautiously.

“You got to get my Moms and take her back to this island of yours. Keep her safe. Tell me you’ll do that, and I’ll sign whatever you want.”

“Where is she?” Shana quickly inquired; her interest piqued.

Shana may have said she was over her mother’s relatively recent death, but I suspected that it troubled her more than she wanted to let on.

“Florida,” LT responded straight away. “She’d had enough of the winter cold up in Detroit and with her pissed at me for being in the slammer there was nothing keeping her in these parts.”

God damn it! That was an absolute no go.

If his mother had still been in Detroit, I could have asked for a favour from Regina Reynolds and have her sent in my direction, but Florida, that was way too far. I doubt we’d be leaving the Great Lakes area until Luca had been dealt with and that would be months from now, if not most of the year.

If LT dug his heels in that would pose a difficult question for me. He was one of the few people I absolutely wanted but knew that forcing him into it would backfire spectacularly for me.

“I’m more than willing to accommodate your mother or any other family members at Stormblade Harbour,” I said, and then continued in an apologetic tone. “But they’d have to make their own way to the island. I’ll be honest we’ve no way to make contact with anybody that far south. Phone lines are down and won’t be coming back, same with the internet.”

“Too bad,” he said, slouching in his seat and then he smiled broadly again. “Alright captain, give me the damn papers and let’s get this done.”

“Wait, what about your mother?” Shana asked, confused.

“Call that a test,” LT answered with a cheeky wink. “I’ve not seen that crack-addled junkie in five, six years and even then, she was tryin’ to rob me. If the life ain’t killed her, the apocalypse will have. I jus’ wanted to know if you’d be straight with me and you was, so I’m in. Like you said, the world is leaving me behind while I’m sat in here.”

With a snap of my fingers, the Canon materialised in my hand. I made LT an officer and the duration was the remaining twenty-three years of his sentence. I pushed the unfurled vellum across the table and LT jabbed his thumb at the bottom.

“Welcome aboard.”

We were off to a great start.

Over the next couple of hours, we cycled through eleven more candidates.

The next two guys through the door were Kristoff Meyer a German smuggler and Tony Parks a former pro boxer banned for juicing who left a guy in a permanent vegetative state in an illegal underground boxing match. These were the only two perfect twenty scores in Bellamy Creek and the interviews were short and to the point.

Both had high aptitudes and desperately wanted to get out. They signed up with very little prompting.

There were some other notable individuals that we added to the roster.

Interviewee number seven was Danny Ambrose. Danny was only a moderate prospect and he’d selected warrior, a dogshit X-grade class, but that was because he’d used all his aptitude to become an Ogre.

Ogres were a tier-three species like me and taking such a poorly graded class was how Danny had been able to ‘afford’ it in character creation with only a moderate aptitude.

Being an ogre came with a lot of physical advantages. They were nine feet tall and made of muscle. Their physical stats were incredibly impressive, but they did come with a few drawbacks. Their mental and social attributes were heavily penalised, and all their character upgrade costs were doubled.

We had a bunch of dungeons within my demesne, though. And even at double the cost, it wouldn’t require much to get his class up to something like Knight, a low second tier class. Plus, if you managed to push his species up a tier to fourth, one of the options was Ogre-Savant.

Savants kept the ogre’s prodigious physical bonuses, halved the mental and social reductions, and shed the upgrade penalties completely. We’d have to crunch the numbers later to see if it was worthwhile.

Of course, if he became eligible for a fourth-tier species upgrade you could always pick Ogre-Brute which further increased their physical gains with no extra disadvantages.

However, the biggest surprise of the morning went to Sheamus Coughlin.

After reading his profile nobody expected a dwarf to walk in the door.

No, not the stocky, bearded, miner type of dwarf. Sheamus was a just under four feet tall and born with achondroplasia. Technically he no longer had the condition, the Framework wiped all such conditions away whether the person wanted it to or not, but it hadn’t physically changed him. Not yet anyway.

Sheamus had taken a class called Alchemic Bombardier. Essentially, he was half Alchemist crafter, half bomber. Even though the class meant he wouldn’t be very helpful in a melee fight it was something that could help soften up the enemy before they got in close.

Like Jackson, Sheamus had picked Tainted Fae for his species, but for different reasons. Jackson plumped for fae as his base species because of their greater affinity for magic. Taking the tainted prefix in the second tier made the fae more robust without adding any further magical bonuses. Jackson had rightly understood his character build needed some survivability.

Sheamus, went fae not for the magic but for the dextrousness of their hands and then took the tainted prefix so he wouldn’t experience any ill effects when using iron and metal to make his bombs. His height would barely change but his limbs would lengthen while his body got a bit slimmer and smaller. The physical alterations in Jackson were less noticeable as he’d apparently been slight of build in the first place.

Whether he’d get the same green highlights in his hair as Jackson was unclear. But it was made very clear to us before he signed, that Canon or no Canon, anyone who made a leprechaun joke would be getting a grenade or four shoved up their arse.

It was the kind of condition I could happily agree to, though Ana was a bit miffed when I ordered her to comply. Apparently, I had ruined some prime comedic material.

Not everything went our way, though.

We had to see a dozen people as two of the candidates refused to cooperate. Vince Callin was convinced we had to be working for the police and spent the short interview commenting about the smell of pork and making odd grunting sounds that I assumed were meant to sound like a pig.

He’d get a chance to change his mind after he cooled his heels in the pens on Stormblade Harbour for a bit.

The second disappointment of the day wouldn’t be getting a second chance.

Marcus Sawyer III simply glowered at me after hearing the pitch, leaned forward, and spat in my face. I kept my cool and wiped his spittle away with a rag for cleaning a whiteboard as the two sentinel escorts dragged him away screaming obscenities.

This was truly unfortunate. For Marcus.

I’d been confident we’d get enough yesses today to fill my ranks and the disinclined, like Vince, would have a chance to reconsider once we got them back to Stormblade Harbour. It was only natural to expect there to be a proportion of refusals.

What Marcus Sawyer III did, went well beyond refusal and this avenue was closed for him.

There was something about spitting, especially in another person’s face, which lit a fire of rage in my heart. And that was before the apocalypse. I’d been on the verge of gutting Carl in the dungeon when he’d gobbed at my feet, his poor aim being the only thing that kept him alive until the end of the dungeon and his inevitable betrayal and comeuppance.

Marcus had spat in my face. Except for trying to harm the people I cared about he could not have done anything to enrage me more. He could have cheap-shotted me with a kick to the groin and I would have been less inclined to punish him.

The anger settled into a cold flame of implacable wrath. Marcus would suffer for his vile disrespect. The only question that remained was the nature of said suffering.

 

*** The Frost and the Fury: Fresh pathways for your Frost Harmonisation have opened. ***

 

I knew instantly that this was a Framework prompt and not something Quixbix had sent my way.

The imp hadn’t gone into much detail about how we improved my harmonisation with the frost element. The basics were that as an Acheronian with an affinity for Chaos, the antithesis of harmony, I needed more than upgrade points to improve or adopt a harmonisation. There were hidden prerequisites, and it would appear Marcus had helped me stumble upon one.

Bypassing the initial prerequisite had been one of the benefits of getting a special pre-generated character.

My chaotic affinity didn’t only have negative connotations when it came to the Mana Harmonies, though. Although it did make it more difficult to adopt a Harmonisation, we were permitted to mix discordant Harmonisations, Harmonisation combinations that were typically incompatible with one another, without penalty.

For example, elemental harmonies couldn’t be combined unless you had a class which allowed it, like the Flamebolt Sorceress class Shana had been offered. That would allow someone to have both Flame and Lightning. However, there were some combinations no class could give you, such as Flame and Frost.

Those immersed in the rule-breaking tumult of Chaos could manage it, not easily, but it could be done.

Anastasia’s class of Lifeforce Enchantress was another that permitted the comingling of discordant harmonies. Life and Death.

I pushed those thoughts out of the way. I had plenty of time to figure out my Harmonisation progression and Marcus’ fate, but there would be no forgiveness.

After the twelfth interview and the tenth signature, I passed the sixty-eight thousand experience I required. Taking Shana’s hand in mine with Ana sitting in the palm of the other I prepared for my level-up audience.

“Get some lunch, Jackson. We might be absent for a while.”

Blink.

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