Of Power Balance and War

Marisa falling over on the couch from laughing was not the reaction he had expected, even though he was beginning to realize that she snapped back out of frustrated ranting easily. Despite the tone of her laughter being one of mirth without derision, it felt a bit humiliating. That was ameliorated somewhat by her already high-cropped shirt riding up until it was so close to a nip-slip he could see a hint of areola.

As her laughter started to subside, John put in the effort to rein in his visual appreciation of her physique, and the memories and fantasies that came with it, enough to mostly look at her face when she was able to talk again. “Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for, but fuck. Inferno, a ‘nightclub franchise’, that’s just too funny. Even if that were technically true, your legwork has a pretty big hole there.

“One,” she held up a finger, “Inferno is an A-lister. That’s a kinda loose category of business-oriented guilds. They’re smaller than the Big Three-” she briefly paused there, probably to gauge whether he seemed to recognize the term, “-but still enormous, international guilds. Throne guilds are to rulership type guilds what the Big Three are to business guilds, and can dictate rules to A-listers. With almost everyone else the A-listers negotiate from a position of strength.”

John filed the terms ‘A-list’, ‘Throne guild’ and ‘rulership guilds’ away as something to look up later. Meanwhile, Marisa raised another finger. “Two, and this is the part that makes what you said funny. The Inferno is immensely much more than what ‘nightclub franchise’ suggests. So much so that it’s kinda fucky that Dante even calls it a nightclub at all. It’s basically a whole ass magical city state enveloped in a never-ending party, with hundreds of entry points scattered across the world.

“It’s unclear if the Inferno is a small Kingdom with abnormally many portal connections, the perhaps most expensive illusion barrier setup in the world or a Divine Sanctum. Which brings us to three. Dante is either a wealthy demigod or a god outright; in either case he’s a fucking powerhouse. Personally, I’m leaning towards the actual deity theory, though I’m not sure I buy that it’s Dionysos doing the whole ‘back from the dead with a new name’ thing a second time.”

John thought about that for a bit. “Okay, so there’s a few things there I’d like to unpack, but I suspect the natural first stop for ‘Divine Sanctum’ and the Dionysos thing is Abysspedia, AKA the Librarians’ website. But if Dante and Inferno are that powerful, why did you call the Order the biggest boot in the state?”

Marisa snickered a bit at the Abysspedia thing before responding. “Well that’s half slang and half getting into the weeds of Abyssal power balances. ‘Boot’ is slang for guilds that form some sort of government, whether it runs a town district or all of Abyssal Russia. You, uh, probably shouldn’t use it where Order knights or other boot-folk can hear, though, they tend to think it’s disrespectful.”

“While Inferno claims some sovereign territory in Springfield as their own, they aren’t actually governing or policing shit. Well, they’re doing the bare minimum to keep it from scaring off customers and not get stricken from their place in the Accord, but that’s really not much. And most of the other Inferno entrances sit in some other guilds’ territory under their rules, keeping the sovereignty to the interior of the ‘club’.

“That all sums up to Inferno claiming very little territory relative to its wealth and reach, meaning it operates mostly as an Abyssal business and is considered as such, even though they’re the local boot inside the establishment itself. The whole business guild versus government guild isn’t really a hard line so much as different ends of a spectrum anyway.”

She made a waving gesture as if to sweep away the terminology discussion. “Anyway, the power balance part of the question is that nobody really knows who is stronger between Inferno and the Goldies. Mostly, it’s probably gonna come down to how you measure. The Shield Branch certainly can’t take Inferno on alone, but if the Order as a whole decides he’s the biggest threat to mundanes…

“Well, a lot is gonna hinge on whether Dante can personally hope to best more than one Warden at a time, but other than that it’s about what ‘winning’ means for either side and who plays it smartest. But the real winner in that fight will be the Cabal, the Scions and a couple other major shitstain crews that the Goldies are trying to stomp out. So the fight doesn’t happen.”

With one of those real winners being everyone’s go-to example of utterly vile guilds, that made sense. “I see… That leaves one Springfield Accord guild that I don’t really know much about: the Emerald Order. Can you tell me anything about those guys?”

Marisa looked like a floating question mark was about to appear above her head for a moment. “Riiight, you would’ve barely missed that and it isn’t showing up in the obvious places on the web yet. As of Saturday night, those bastards are out of Springfield. They’ve been **** mundanes and stealing mundane corpses, and using both for experiments with necromancy and soul shards and shit.

“The Goldies got enough proof to show the other Accord guilds recently, so we hit the Emeralds in ****, getting all their barriers in Springfield in one night. Lost some decent people, especially when the Greenskulls retaliated by attacking a trauma center on their way out, but Springfield’ll be better off for it in the long run.”

She paused long enough for John to have opened his mouth to speak when she suddenly exclaimed, “Shit! That’s a pretty fucking important thing for you to know about before getting the Goldie recruitment pitch and I almost didn’t tell you. As of that night, the Goldies and the Emeralds are at war. And unlike the ‘try to stomp them out when they’re found’ story with the Cabal and Scions and the rest of the Most Wanted list, this is a hot war.

“Given that the Greenskulls run about 3/5th of the state and have the second most resources and manpower out of local boots, it’ll probably be that way for a while. I’m pretty sure the goal is to either dismantle them or evict them completely, so a ceasefire isn’t exactly around the corner. Putting the hurt on them is its own kind of fun and cathartic as shit, if you know what you’re doing. I don’t think it’ll make for the most forgiving ‘learning on the job’ environment though…. Can I convince you to forgive me for nearly leaving that out?” Marisa delivered a critical hit to his ability to formulate a response by crossing her arms beneath her bust and leaning forward.

“Uhm, I, err, that, uh… Y-you did tell me before…” he trailed off as his train of thought fell completely into her cleavage, then managed to notice, shake his head and tear both eyes and thoughts away from what he wanted to do to her. “Tell me in time, I mean. N- no harm, no foul.”

Marisa giggled at that, but when she sat back her expression turned serious again. “For real, though, thank you for making me realize. I would’ve been a fucking cretin if I didn’t tell you until after you signed on.”

She did have a point there, this was important information. As much as he was committed to stay in the Abyss, and try to unfuck Qhila’s situation as much as possible, he had an obligation, to his mom especially, to try to do it as safely as possible. And volunteering to learn on the job warfare of all things was not living up to that.

That said… “Wouldn’t they tell me before I sign on though?”

Marisa grimaced at that. “Err, maybe not. Their view is that they’ve been actively at war with evil since their inception, and this is just a regular old case of the circumstances of how that happens changing every now and then. They might not consider it important enough change to bring it up. Which is kinda bunk in my opinion, but I’m pretty sure they genuinely think like that.

“That goes for other things that are gonna look weird, especially coming in from the mundane world, actually. I specifically told you to ask for the Writ of Protection because they’ll just lead with presenting the contract mage shit on its own. To them, it’s a great opportunity to make more of your duty to try to make the world a better place, and get paid for it in the process. Which… I agree that everyone has such an oft neglected duty, but I don’t agree that doing it as a Goldie is the best way for everyone.”

That sounded kinda sketchy to John, and no way there wasn’t at least some of the people involved that had realized that presenting it like that skewed what people chose. Not that commenting on it to Marisa would change anything, and he had other important ground to cover.

“How many local guilds are going to get pulled into that war? It would be pretty dumb to join a guild that’s going to war anyway if the main reason I said no to the Goldies was to avoid going to war…”

“... Hard to say. I think the Shield’s got what it takes to do this solo without eating too much shit in the process, but that’s from a grunt’s eye view. Depending on what the bigwigs figure, it might go like that or they might tap some allies. Technically, the Accord defines a breach as big as the Greenskulls’ as a declaration of war against the rest of the signatories, and with that plus their subordinate guilds, that’s like three quarters of Abyssal Springfield already involved.”

“They’ll mostly be happy to take a back seat and leave the work to the Goldies though. I think the only ones that are likely to show any unprompted initiative, other than tightening security, is the Moon Clan. The Artemis crew and their Viking buddies out in the sticks might’ve as well but the Emeralds have tried to pull a scorched earth on the natural barrier while denied access in the past, before the Accord. So they’ll probably be busy playing defense for the foreseeable future.

“If Big Willy does prompt the rest of the Accord for aid… Well, the Inferno and the Scarlet Bitch ain’t likely to do more than a token effort anyways but that’s still half the town in war mode. Doesn’t mean all the guilds are committing fighters though. While Abyssals that can’t fight are rare, a lot of them are more useful, even to a war effort, doing something else. So if you can hitch up with some artisanal outfit, you should be able to stay off the frontline. At least until you become enough of a powerhouse that they can’t afford to keep you in reserve.”

John mulled over that one for a bit. Maybe he and Qhila should ask if there were job openings at the Grave Concoctions. The problem with doing that, or trying to get into another small Abyssal business, was that according to Qhila kobolds were generally disregarded for most work.

They, as well as a few other demihumanoids, like goblins and gnomes, were apparently known to almost universally have a low ceiling on potential aura strength. That capped the strength of magic they could work, whether as spells or supernaturally enhanced physical pursuits. As a result, they were locked into the Abyssal equivalent to low skill work. Developing talented entry level employees into specialists was apparently ubiquitously important to growing one’s business. Consequently, hiring someone who was practically guaranteed not to have such untapped potential over someone who might simply wasn’t done much.

All of that didn’t sit right with John, but he couldn’t really do much to change it. He just had to deal with it, at least for now, and that meant that the only way to get Qhila the protection of guild membership was to shoehorn her in as a package deal with him. Which meant he needed leverage beyond that of just being another set of hands and mana.

Unfortunately, the only leverage he had at the moment was him being a Late Bloomer and the bullshit abilities that gave him. Once he started using that to job hunt, however, it couldn’t stay hidden for long which was only a bigger issue with a fucking war going on.

He’d need to mull over that issue some more, as well as discuss it with Qhila. And ask her why she hadn’t mentioned the war. Right now, though, the clock was ticking on his opportunity to ask Marisa stuff.

She had given him time and space to think about that for a bit, finishing off her beer and going for a third in the meanwhile. Deciding that he didn’t really have more questions on his mind about the war stuff at the moment, he went for something different. “That gives me a lot to think about… but changing the topic, can you tell me anything about examining auras?”

“Talk about change of topic alright.” She giggled. ”Aura stuff is tied up a bunch with magical theory and crap I ain’t good at, but if just surface level shit’ll do, or if you just need the right terms to throw at ‘Abysspedia’ to get started, sure. What do you wanna know?”

“Well, I’ve got a Skill called ‘Observe’ that gives me a bit of information about stuff I use it on, and when it leveled up today, the description changed to include examining the target’s aura. I’ve kept from using it on people since, in case it’s some sort of invasive thing.”

“Sounds like either assensing or an aura probe. The latter’s something you ask about and probably get told no. Otherwise, imagine how people would react to a surprise colonoscopy. The former is a big old ‘maybe’ that ranges from innocent non-issue to something like taking out a magnifying glass to stare at people through.”

“How do I find out which it is though?”

Marisa looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. “Why the hell not. Hit me. With the ‘Skill’ that is, don’t start throwing hands.”

“... Are you giving me permission to probe your… uh…” John realized the potential side implication there partway through the sentence, causing him to falter.

“Let’s lead with dinner and a movie and we can talk about it,” Marisa responded with a shit eating grin. “The serious answer is that your aura isn’t strong enough to do a probe that I can’t squish when I know it’s coming. Or shouldn’t be, anyway. If you turn out to have another piece of Late Bloomer bullshit going, though, I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.”

“Okay then… here goes.”

[Name: Marisa Groenn
Class: Frostblade Lvl 27
Title: Figureskating Fencer
Guild: The Order of the Golden Rose [GRO]
Guild Rank: Contract Mage

Physical Appearance:
Height: 1.66m
Weight: 63 kg
Age: 22 years
Body Shape: Athletic Hourglass
Cup Size: C

Information:
An irreverent and independent-minded frost mage and fencer that is chafing under the limitations of her contract with the Order. In combat, she uses conjured ice to secure a mobility advantage and channels cold through her blade to dispatch foes in close combat.

Relationship: 42
Next door neighbor to you and your mother for a year, during most of which you have been loosely but positively acquainted. Certain nightly peeping events notwithstanding.

Emotion: Curious, Optimistic, Horny, Vengeful

LOCKED

LOCKED]

’Horny in emotion listings and a reference to me peeping. It’s good that I removed her from the party when I went to meet Qhila…’

John didn’t have time to think of any implications before Marisa spoke up. “Nope, no signs of probing. So unless you have bullshit to hide a probe, it’s assensing. And closer to the ‘stared a bit’ end than ‘whipped out a magnifying glass’, probably. What’d you learn?”

“Oh, uh, mostly things I already knew just with more precision… I could already see your level, class and title from being around you. It added numbers for your health and mana to your nameplate, and disagrees with you about whether contract mages are a part of the Order. It also gave me text blurbs telling me that you’re my next door neighbor and a frost mage, that you’re feeling curious and it put a number on our, uh, relationship. Which is higher than I expected, actually…”

Marisa smirked at him. “And the reason your cheeks are getting red?”

“Uh, I… Well, it also gave me a few physical measurements like your height, age and, uh, cup size.” Hopefully, that would be reason enough to not get into the other reasons to blush at that readout. Not that getting called out on blushing was doing anything to reduce the heat in his cheeks.

Marisa giggled. “That’s some precision, dude. But it all sounds on brand for assensing. That stuff is good for determining aura strength, ongoing magic and a general idea about magical talents, surface emotions and social relationships. And theoretically for where stuff is and how it’s shaped too, but that takes enough practice to only really be useful to blind folks.”

John had just enough time to think that it’d be nice if he could somehow teach Christie assensing before an alarm went off from Marisa’s phone. She fished it out and turned it off. “Well, that’s my cue to head out.”

She got up and fetched an ice-blue leather belt that looked like it belonged with the bodysuit she had worn yesterday. “There’s a good chance I’ll be out of town for a while. And off the air waves too, OPSEC shit. But don’t worry about me, I know how to handle myself and how to not bite off more than I can chew. Plus, I need to get back and hear how it went with you and meeting Big Willy.”

She opened the garden side door, then turned towards him with a shit eating grin. “And while I’ve got my gear,” she tapped the belt, “I am going to the briefing like this. Sir Liverton is going to pop at least two forehead veins, but the dress code doesn’t apply to contract mages so he’s gotta deal.”

She stepped out and half-yelled through the closing door, “Locks and alarms engage 5 minutes after I cross the property line. Best have left by then, Johnny.” Then she jogged to the garden gate and ran onto the paths out there, presumably heading towards the barrier alley.

All of that had happened too quickly for John to get a word in edgewise, leaving him with the phone as his option for any parting words to her. She was setting a pace that he was definitely not going to catch up to.