Chapter 172: 172: Prison Rules

What is this stuff? Calvin thought as he rubbed his finger along the white bench. It had no texture, per se, except for a slight sense of granularity. Calvin rapped his fingers against it, and marveled at the sound it made. It sounded light, like there wasn’t much there, and yet, it was holding up his entire body.

Calvin wanted to stop and study the material, use dupdomancy on it and test its weight to strength ratio and durability, but that would probably attract too much attention.

Instead, he licked his finger and rubbed it on the furniture.

Completely waterproof. And it seems like minor stains wipe right off.

Huh. It obviously wasn’t wood. There was no grain.

I wonder how it responds to heat.

Unfortunately Calvin couldn’t just burn the bench he was sitting on in a fit of curiousity, so he forced himself to pay attention to what was going on between Kurawe and the three exhausted diplomats.

“I understand your desire to make a profit here, but the tariffs you’re suggesting are going to actually reduce the total revenue by an order of magnitude. If you make your exports more expensive than something other countries could get themselves or go without, they’re going to do it, and leave you with nothing.”

Kurawe was sitting in front of a thoroughly exhausted Juntai man, rapidly wearing him down with unceasing reasons why they should lower the price of lumber.

Calvin had to clamp down on the urge to yawn just looking at it.

The Juntai diplomats seemed to have realized that something was seriously wrong with Kurawe, as the giant of a man didn’t seem to need to eat, sleep or crap, zealously wearing down their defenses through superior endurance.

They had responded by taking eight hour shifts, but that left each negotiator alone in the room with Kurawe, and the man was overwhelming when taken one-on one, so for the last stretch, they had rallied all three of them.

“We’ll always have a minimum sale price, and we understand the street value of copper in Gadvera and Uleis is low, so don’t think to cheat me out of a good thing. We won’t go any lower than an eighth of a pound of copper per ten thousand board-feet.”

Kurawe sucked on his teeth for a moment, seemingly debating while Calvin was screaming internally for him to take the deal. Uleis would pay huge amounts of glass for just a thousand board feet, and Boles, Iletha and Gadvera would pay huge amounts of copper for an equal amount of glass. Iletha needed wood, too.

It was a perfect profit triangle, but Kurawe acted like he was signing away his firstborn child when he signed the final papers.

All three Juntai negotiators loomed, watching with bags under their eyes as the giant signed it, the pen tiny in his meaty fingers. He finished the document, with two copies scrawled on vellum, written in the trade language, outlining in no uncertain terms, the details of the trade agreement between Juntai and Calvin’s March.

Finally, Calvin thought releasing a sigh he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The country had been wearing thin on all of them for some time now. Kala was severely perturbed by the customs, Ella was avoiding the city, Goob wasn’t talking to Baroke since the incident, and Learner had disappeared. Hopefully whatever mayhem she was perpetrating wouldn’t reflect poorly on him.

Calvin rubbed his temples. Staying in a place like this for over a month was wearing on his nerves.

“There we go,” Kurawe said, passing the document back to the diplomats, who made one final pass.

“Well, now that we’re all done,” Kurawe said, standing.

“Wait.” The lead negiator, a thin man with a patchy beard spoke. Calvin didn’t bother to learn their names, because that was Kurawe’s job. “We don’t have the authority to commit this to law. We must send word to the Diocese.”

After he said that, he went to the nearby door, raised a hand and held his copper bracer to the wall. The wall hissed and blipped for a few moments with a flicker of light.

What was that?

Broken intercom. They seem to be using it to send a signal like morse code.

What in the abyss is that?

“The Diocese of Trade will join us soon.” The wrinkly man said with a slight bow.

Soon came and went, and Calvin started pacing in back of the room as minutes turned into hours, bored out of his mind while Kurawe and the Juntai diplomats had a seemingly friendly chat.

If Kala were here, she would probably tell him to stop pacing as it presented impatience, which was a form of weakness, then she would probably sweeten the pot by offering to sit on his lap to keep him in one place…But Godsdamnit, women weren’t allowed in the palace and he was impatient!

A month of sitting on his hands, resummoning Kurawe in secret as necessary, living in a city that had long since lost its charm, under an enormous steel cylinder that was constantly humming at him, and now some a-hole was going to make him wait another couple hours?

Calvin just wanted to move on.

Calm down, Nadia’s thoughts echoed through his mind. This is a normal tactic by those in power. And it’s not like you can spend your time hopping instantly from engagement to engagement and stay sane if you’re a leader. Royals need down time too.

Bah, Calvin thought sourly. Give it a year, and we’ll see who’s waiting on who.

It was good to hear a coherent thought again from Nadia, though.

I can sit on your lap if it’ll help. She offered.

This channel is for emergencies and timely advice only, what did I say about reading my thoughts?

I think it involved sewing my lips to my own asshole.

Calvin huffed and sat down on the couch in the corner, completely ignored by the four old men in the room.

I think I’ve overused that threat.

Probably.

Tell you what, if you behave and provide me with timely advice, I will reward you with another Lure-brained manifestation. You can spend the evening out on the town, doing whatever you want as long as it doesn’t cause me problems.

I’m on the job! Calvin got the impression of Nadia snapping a salute somewhere inside his own mind.

A moment later the door slid open on it’s own to reveal a…young man, bedecked in copper and gold, svelte and maybe two years older than Calvin himself.

The Diocese was trailed by no less than a dozen men, scurrying behind him with quick steps.

The first thing Calvin noticed aside from the young man’s apparent age, was his arrogant walk, almost a reverse sashay, followed by the strange set of his eyebrows.

Are those drawn onto his face?

Don’t stare, this seems like the sort of kingdom that will have you executed for staring, Nadia advised.

Calvin could see how that could be counter-productive to establishing a trade deal, so he found something else to look at.

“Rise in the presence of the honorable Vender Penson, diocese of Trade.”

Kurawe stood, so Calvin followed suit, waiting until the man himself had taken a seat to sit again.

The Juntai royalty scanned the room, dismissing Kurawe with a scowl.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said in Juntai, presumably to keep his conversation private from Kurawe. He snatched the document off the table and complained about having to read a foreign tongue for a moment before he fell silent, concentrating as he read.

He crooked a finger to summon one of the nearby diplomats. The leader crouched nearby, looking over the agreement beside him.

“What can I –“ The man’s voice caught as the diocese snatched his earlobe and dragged him closer.

“Why are the terms so poor?” the diocese demanded. “Explain it to me.”

“The profit is greater in bulk,” the man said, surprisingly composed for someone getting his ear wrenched on. “Once we begin exporting more than a hundred tons of unseasoned lumber each year, the economy of scale will begin to favor us, via being paid for every single board, regardless of whether it succumbs to rot before reaching its destination or not.”

That was another of Kurawe’s little tactics. What they said would be true if it took weeks or months to move the wood from place to place, but Calvin was fairly sure he could arrange for it to be transported in days.

The diocese’s gaze flicked back down to the agreement, and scanned it again. “Ah.” He glanced up at Kurawe, his expression neutral.

“On behalf of the people of Juntai, I am happy to enter into this trade agreement.” The diocese said, holding up his hand and placing it on top of the vellum scroll beside Kurawe’s signature.

A wisp of smoke rose for an instant before the man pulled his hand back, revealing a clear burn in the exact shape of his hand, down to the most minute detail.

“It’s been my honor to be a part of these groundbreaking proceedings,” Kurawe said, bowing with no hint of sarcasm. “I’ll tell my master of your hospitality when I give him his copy of the agreement. Once that’s been done, you can expect trade to begin flowing before you know it.”

“Of course,” The Diocese said with a polite smile as he rolled up Kurawe’s copy of the trade agreement. He pulled out a crystalline vial of clear goop and dribbled it on the edge of the paper before pushing a stamp down into it. Calvin could swear he felt something from the decorative circle on the back of the man’s hand for a moment before the diocese lifted the stamp.

The goop had become white and hard, containing the symbol of a square-headed dragon.

Calvin glanced down at the bench he was sitting on. The two substances looked the same, but he needed to be sure.

Give me the scroll.

Are you sure, Ravager?

Yeah, I’m sure.

“Give your master our heartfelt thanks for the opportunity for mutual benefit.”

“I will,” Kurawe said, standing.

“I hope this fat fuck leaves soon, I want to get back to my game with Selera.” The diocese muttered in Juntai to the diplomats hovering behind him.

Kurawe stood, turned to face Calvin, walked over, and handed him the rolled up trade agreement.

“The Diocese of Trade gives his heartfelt thanks for the opportunity for mutual benefit, ravager, and the accommodations provided were splendid, although I didn’t see much of them.” Kurawe said in Ilethan, handing Calvin the scroll.

Calvin glanced up and spotted everyone in the room watching him, frozen in place.

“Good work, thank you,” Calvin said, dismissing the spell, his eyes on the white seal holding the scroll closed.

Kurawe burst into green smoke which vanished into nothingness in the blink of an eye, leaving Calvin alone in the room with the Juntai.

Are you sure that was a good idea? Nadia asked.

I got the agreement, and now I have their attention. This time, I’m fairly certain it’ll play out okay in the long run, Calvin thought, putting his thumbnail under the white material fused to the fibers of the vellum.

With a quick pry, Calvin popped it off and held it between thumb and forefinger, examining it closely before twisting it between his hands, flicking it with his finger and dropping it onto the bench and listening to the clatter.

Very interesting.

“You don’t happen to have more of this, do you?” Calvin asked, holding up the seal, which was decidedly not wax, and most likely identical to the strange material his bench was made out of.

Nobody spoke. All the Juntai present simply stared at him with varying degrees of astonishment.

“Huh. Shame. Well, if we’re done here, I’ll be going,” Calvin said, standing and heading for the door.

“Stop him,” The diocese ordered in Juntai, and three of the man’s attendants hustled to block the door.

See, bad idea.

No, this is gonna be fine, Calvin thought as he came to a halt in front of the stone-faced Juntai blocking the door. He’d had plenty of practice escalating things. Now he’d like to try brining a situation to a simmer and leave it there.

“Did we miss something?” Calvin asked innocently.

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“You must be Calvin.” The Diocese said in fluent Ilethan. “your…advisor spoke very highly of you in the past weeks. It’s my mistake for not inquiring your identity when I saw you today.”

“No harm done,” Calvin said, turning back to the Diocese, giving his most polite bow. “I didn’t introduce myself, either. My name is Calvin Gadsint, Prince-consort and Marquis of the eastern March, and Juntai’s closest neighbor to the west.”

“Prince-consort. Does that mean you’re married to a princess, and she has a higher rank than you?” a brilliant white smile bloomed on the man’s face.

“Technically.” Calvin gritted out.

The diocese gave a short chuckle, then schooled his expression. “Would you be interested in spending the remainder of the day accompanying me?”

“I’d hate to take up your precious personal time.” Calvin attempted to refuse. After all, the diocese was complaining about getting back to his ‘game’.

“The great thing about personal time is that I can spend it however I want. You seem like an interesting young man, and I would relish the opportunity to get to know my neighbor.”

“Sounds good to me.” Calvin said, relenting. After all, he’d pulled the rug out from under them, so they deserved a chance to save face.

“Excellent.” The diocese said with a grin. “What do you know about Forceball?”

“Never heard of it.”

******

“You won’t find a sport like this anywhere else in the world, Calvin,” the Diocese said as they watched men competing over a lodestone ball the size of a man’s head, drawing it in and shoving it away from themselves with special bracers that Calvin could only assume were powered by the same Ability that every other Juntai seemed to be capable of.

It was very interesting to watch as the two teams competed to put the heavy iron ball through hoops set up sideways on either side of the court, all without touching the ball at all, which seemed to be a penalty.

Watching the heavy ball bounce around as if was weightless was indeed amusing, especially when the diocese tagged in and began diving into the crush of bodies, elbowing and being elbowed in turn in the brutal sport as they sought to score.

“Come down and play!” The diocese yelled up to him after a few minutes for Calvin to get the rules of the game.

“You know I can’t use those!” Calvin said, pointing at the bracers on the man’s arms. “let me touch the ball without penalty and I’ll play!”

The Diocese grinned playfully. “No deal! You can’t touch the ball, but how about this, use any Ability you want as long as you yourself follow the rules of the game!

Calvin rested his elbow on the bannister overlooking the arena.

“trying to sound out my Abilities?” Calvin asked with a raised brow.

“Maybe!”

Well, it was better than subtle threats and an interrogation, calvin thought as he stood up straight again. The man already knew he was a summoner, so Calvin would stick to summoning.

The Juntai knew he could summon, and the extent of his abilities would soon be revealed as he constructed the railway through the country, so that would be the one he would use here, revealing as little information about himself as possible.

The fact that he could disable the bracers they based all their technology and weapons on simply by reducing the conductivity of copper to match leather…that was something he’d keep under his hat.

Calvin leapt over the bannister and landed in the arena, eyeing the two teams of Juntai, who watched him curiously, with more than a little disdain thrown in.

“I apologize in advance for…playing the game wrong and most likely offending you.”

“Seva, you’re out,” the diocese said, pointing out one of the more exhausted looking players. “Calvin you’re in his spot. Show us what you can do.”

“Alright,” Calvin said, taking the man’s place in the center left of the field, right behind the two who’d compete for the serve.

“Start!”

The lodestone flew up into the air, spinning rapidly as the two men in the center jumped high into the air, turning their bracers toward the iron ball.

Meanwhile, Calvin made his move.

Calvinian Summoning

Chimera.

42/46 Bent remaining.

Calvin’s palms flooded the arena with green smoke, and out of the mist, Nadia after Nadia – with a tiny bit of Lure as the base – appeared, manifesting from skeleton to flesh and blood in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly a crowded arena was positively packed with Nadia’s leaving absolutely no room for anyone to maneuver.

“Ow!, you stepped on my foot!”

“Hey, you’re rubbing up against my~”

“Wow, you’re really strong~”

Nadia’s voice echoed across the arena, easily falling into her role and stupefying the two dozen or so men she was pressed up against from every angle.

In the meantime, the other Nadias who weren’t preoccupied with the honeypot distraction grabbed the ball and passed it over toward the enemy team’s goal, handing it to each other in rapid succession.

Calvin was moments away from scoring when a bolt of lightning tore through a couple Nadias and knocked the ball out of their hands.

The lighting moved like a dragon, picking up the ball and bringing it back to the Diocese, hovering in front of him like a living thing.

“Prison rules!” The diocese crowed.

Oh, it’s on.

****

“Don’t feel bad,” The diocese said, bowing slightly as Calvin left the palace. “It was your first time playing with prison rules. There’s no shame in losing to someone who’s been playing for over a decade.”

“It was my first time playing at all,” Calvin muttered.

“Sadly the only format you can participate in.” the diocese said with a grin. “Seeing your Abilities and your competitive streak has given me a great deal of confidence that you’ll be able to deliver on your proposed rail system.”

“Again, I’m deeply sorry about the burns,” Calvin said. “And that guy’s eye.”

“Prison rules,” the young Juntai leader said with a shrug, as if that explained everything. “Come on back if you ever want to try again…but not too soon. It takes time to heal.”

He offered Calvin a hand, and Calvin shook it, to the murmuring of the onlookers.

“Your business with the diocese is finished. You may now take that agreement to the local businesses and barter with them.”

He lowered his voice. “I’ll also let you in on a little secret, in exchange for a night with that ilethan summon of yours.” He winked.

Gross. Calvin thought, keeping his face neutral.

Sounds like fun. I’m up for it. Unlike you, he’s got abs.

“Deal.” Calvin said. You’re not getting anything extra for this.

Fiiine.

Chained Spirit

Chimera.

32/46 Bent remaining.

In a flash of green smoke Nadia appeared at the tip of Calvin’s fingers.

Nadia gave a coy, calculating smile designed to inflame a man’s passion, meeting the young diocese’s gaze, and Calvin got a strange sensation from Open Book. There was a relationship there but it was strangely…off, like two pieces that didn’t quite line up.

Calvin didn’t have time to think about it, as the Diocese turned his gaze back to Calvin and started speaking.

“There’s a fellow by the name of Carem Sageva, owns a good deal of the businesses in Allast. He’s a major force in the city’s industry, though not many people at all know of him. He values his privacy and runs his businesses through intermediaries, but the name on his taxes, though, that doesn’t lie. He would be a good first person to talk to when you get started working with local businesses tomorrow.”

“Much appreciated,” Calvin said. “Have fun,” he nodded to Nadia.

“Oh, I will,” She said, pressing up against the diocese in a way that the young ruler seemed to appreciate very much.

Where’s your dignity?

Eh. This is more fun.

I’m keeping the channel closed for the rest of the night, Calvin thought to her as he said his goodbyes and left, heading for his temporary housing on the edge of the city. If he left it open there was a seventy percent chance Nadia would think it was funny to contact him mid-coitus.

When Calvin made it home, he spent an hour or so venting about spending an entire day suffering through listening to old men negotiate to Kala and Ella’s amusement, until it was time to go to bed, moving on to the next leg of his work here in Allast.

Just a little longer and he’d be able to go back to his March and see how far people had come in his absence.

Calvin was launched out of bed in the middle of his dream by a violent horn, blinking sand out of his eyes and trying to locate the source of the godforsaken sound. It sounded like someone or something was blasting a horn at full volume into both ears.

Where’s the bastard! What’s going on!

There was nothing in the room but his bed and his wives, spooning in the corner, grumpily yanking the covers back over themselves and blinking at him in confusion.

>> Chained Spirit Has suffered Data Corruption!<<

Purging corrupted Data.

Restoring Backup from last uncorrupted Continuity timestamp

Backup Restored.

Initializing.

Repair Complete.

Continuity has lost 5 hours 28 minutes and 43 seconds of unpackaged memory.

Macronomicon

Enjoy!

I am staggered with how universally hated Carem is. That's good, because he's not supposed to be liked, but damn, I also don't wanna drive anyone off with his POV's.

A real conundrum. Anyway, have fun!

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