Meetings (solus)

“What are you doing here?” Mars asked, not even bothering to look at you. You’d found the woman on the side of a hill, watching a flock of goats nom some grass.

“Came to see you actually,” you reply, plopping down near her. “Here,” you say, holding out a cutting from a tea plant.

“What’s this?” The woman asked as she took the cutting, staring at it in her usual bored demeanor.

“It’s the cutting from a tea plant,” you explain. “It’s a plant from somewhere off in the east and the leaves, when dried, make tea,” you continue, spawning two bowls, some tea leaves and some boiling water to pour into the bowls.

“Why?” Mars asked, eyes casually observing the two bowls of tea as they steeped.

“It’s a way to drink boiling water without needing any vinegar . . .or if you’d prefer a hot beverage,” you reply before sticking your finger into your bowl of tea and stirring it to hasten the steeping process. “I know I planted those coffee trees but they’ll take years before anything comes of them,” you say. “But this time next year there will be tea ready for harvest if you plant cuttings,” you add. “It’s also easier to store dried tea than it is to store ready to brew coffee,” you comment as you watch the swirling lines of tea stained water mix into the still untouched water.

“Coffee is the rich man’s luxury and tea is the poor man’s necessity?” Ma’ra asked, also watching your bowl steep.

“Not quite but close enough,” you say. “Making coffee is an art form, some people like it sweeter, some people like it creamy, some people like it straight up and mixing coffee beans grown in different regions and altitudes makes for different flavours,” you explain. “Tea is tea, once mastered it’s less an art form on the maker of the cup but rather a skill,” you say.

“Why?” The goddess asked.

“Why what?” you ask in reply, turning to look at the goddess with a frown.

“Why come to me with this? You are already growing it yourself” she elaborated.

“You are the goddess of the land,” you say, looking away and over the rolling hills. “If I want to add something to agriculture it must go through you, that’s the rule,” you explain. Mars clearly didn’t believe you if her skeptical look was anything to go by. “Things have changed,” you said softly before bringing your bowl to your lips and taking a sip “mmm, needs more seeping” you mutter, putting the bowl down again. Tea bags have spoiled you to the skill of making loose leaf tea.

“I see,” Ma’ra said softly. You gave her a look and studied her for a moment before returning to your tea.

“There’s also one other thing that I want to start and I want you to be the patron god of,” you say, stirring your tea some more. “I want to set up a police **** whose specific purpose is to prevent crimes or to investigate those that have happened,” you explain. “To protect and serve the people by hunting down criminals and finding evidence of their crimes before dragging them in front of a judge to mete out justice,” you continue.

“That does sound like my sphere,” Ma’ra commented, stirring her own tea with a small twig she had found somewhere. She then lifted the bowl to her lips and took a sip. “Bitter” she commented lightly before taking another sip “could be stronger,” she added and set the bowl back down.

“Tea is nowhere near as bitter as coffee,” you comment. “And if you process it just right, it can even taste like chewing on a fresh twig . . . like spring,” you explain. Ma’ra gave her bowl of tea a contemplative look at that. “In any case, I have other things to do today” you say and Ma’ra nods. You leave the goddess to her goat watching.

****

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Asked Valentina as she casually poured some wine into your clear, modern style, wine glass.

“My idea was probably worse,” you reply, your eyes trailing over Valentina’s delicious form. She was wearing a skirt that went halfway down her thighs with a trim decorated in a Roman style border pattern, coloured in turquoise. For a top, she wore a cross-wrap halter style crop top that left the top and bottom of her boobs exposed. Neither garment offered your servant any protection from wandering hands, a fact that you exploited by giving one of her breasts a fondle.

“If it comes to politics? Yeah probably,” Valentina replied cheekily. You pinched her nipple for that, causing her to moan and spill some wine.

“Best clean that up ****,” you say with mock severity.

“Yes master,” the girl replied flirtatiously before getting down on her hands and knees, sticking her arse into the air and lapping at the spilled wine.

As for where you are currently sitting, you have created a platform in the sky. Clouds lazily drifted below the platform and occasionally gave glimpses of the Himalayan mountains. On the platform, which was made of polished, glass-like marble, was a circular marble table, around which sat cushioned seats. Above you was a domed ceiling, held up by arches surrounding the platform.

This platform existed for the sole purpose of a meeting you intended to start that would form a temporary basis for your new empire. Originally, you had intended to just summon all the leaders here without any preparation and then chuckle at the surprised reactions of those who didn’t know you are a god. Artemis, however, convinced you that this would be a bad idea without some sort of preparation work.

You yourself would not be sitting at the table as this meeting would largely take place without you, barring some input occasionally. Thus, you are reclined on a couch at the back of the platform on a raised section so you can easily see the full table. And of course you would happily play with Valentina when she wasn’t busy bringing wine to ‘delegates’.

The wine for this meeting was non-alcoholic even though it tasted like fine, honeyed wine. It wouldn’t do for the delegates to get drunk and start accepting anything you threw at them and then waking up in their beds the next day not remembering anything while wondering what the shiny new **** collar was doing around their necks. You had also made sure that the wine amphora that Valentina had would never run out.

You strategically waited for your **** to finish her demeaning task before beginning the process of getting the meeting started.

The first delegate that you beamed up to the platform was one of Ishtar’s people. It was actually surprising that she chose a male as the ‘diplomat’ side of your own faction.

The man in question had ‘sexy’ as his main defining trait. Long, luscious hair, a chiseled jaw, stormy blue eyes and a well honed body from lots of wrestling and athletics. And most definitely sex if the look he immideately gave Valentina was anything to go by. Of course his name was Fabian because why wouldn’t it be?

Fabian had brought a young, preteen girl with him who was clutching a very large book in her little hands, holding it close to her chest while she stared around the platform in abstract awe.

While you’d have preferred to have gotten to know the man who was representing your interests diplomatically beforehand, you will just have to trust Ishtar’s judgement on the matter. She did seem to be a much better judge of character than you so that wasn’t too hard.

“Ahh, is that wine? Might I?” Fabian asked, holding up his glass gently. Valentina hopped to and poured the man his drink, who then studied the glass with a fascinated smirk before taking a sip. “Here, why don’t you try some?” he said, offering the glass to his assistant. The poor girl looked torn between putting her book down to accept the beverage and refusing it until she changed her hold on the giant book so that she was hugging it like a teddy bear. This then allowed her to take a gentle sip of the wine. Her eyes widened and she took another, deeper sip before sheepishly handing the glass back, to Fabian’s musical laughter.

The next person you beamed up was Cattleya who, surprisingly, brought an old man with her. An old man whose beard was as long, and as white, as his hair. Cattleya, apparently knowing you hadn’t added an extra seat for her guest, unfolded a chair she’d brought with her before helping the man into what should have been her seat. She then slipped a giant bag of math related stuff off her back with a heavy sigh and began stacking the table with Weapons of Mathematical Destruction.

Valentina didn’t even bother waiting for the old man to ask for some wine before pouring him a glass, to which the old man gave her a grateful smile. You, on the other hand, did not like the way Fabian was looking at Cattleya and resolved to impress upon him exactly whose daughter the girl happened to be.

The next person you beamed up was Strabo. The venerable general had brought his top lieutenant with him. Strabo, at least, gave you no unexpected surprises but that was to be expected.

Finally, with your own faction’s delegation all summoned, you beamed up the leaders of the three major cities that would form the core of your empire for the moment.

Tevron didn’t so much as blink as he rematerialised on the platform. He had chosen your own sister as his accomplice for some reason. You made a mental note of that and moved on.

Tullus was startled, as though he hadn’t expected site to site transportation but then again, he’d only just been told you are a god and could do this sort of thing. He probably hadn’t believed you. As always, his second was Bard though Ishtar had also accompanied them for some reason.

Last to arrive was the governess of Monopoli who blushed as soon as she saw Strabo and then blushed some more when she realised the last available seat was next to him. Apparently her name was Aesica, or so Artemis had told you when she was changing your plans for you.

Aesica had apparently brought along an older man in maille armour as her second who eyed the assembly with wariness.

“Ahh, it looks like we are all here,” Fabian announced, standing up from his seat to greet the assembly. You had to admit, his voice was rather silken. And with that, the meeting got under way. You only partially paid attention, answering questions when asked. The rest of the time you spent playing with Valentina and seeing how many times you could make her cum without anyone noticing.

****

You draw your cloak closer around you to ward off the mizzle that has been steadily falling since you spawned yourself in. Before you lay a Blacksmith’s house, the smith himself out the front and protected by a thatched roof. The sound of metal striking metal had been steadily growing louder as you approached until you stood directly before the smith. You made no move to interrupt the man in his working, metal cools quickly after all, especially in this weather.

While you waited, your eyes wandered over the other occupants of the smith’s shop. A woman, perhaps middle aged, worked a set of bellows built into the side of a stone forge. A girl, perhaps nine or ten, was determinedly raking a file across the blade of a scythe. Judging from her progress in the moment you spent observing her, she had many hours to go before she’d removed all the scaling on the scythe blade. Curiously, it looked as though the girl would almost have to be dragged from her work, she was that determined.

The last two girls had also been filing metal but had put their work down in order to gossip quietly. The way they blushed and giggled when you looked their way gave you some idea what they were gossiping about.

Finally the smith had stopped hammering, the glow of his metal having faded back to its natural colour. The smith took the bar and inserted it back into the fires his wife had just gotten up to temperature. With that done, he turned to you and returned to his anvil. Quite noticeably, he never put his hammer down.

“What do you want?” The man asked gruffly through a thick brown beard.

“I wish to apprentice under you as a smith,” You say to the man who narrowed his eyes. “You needn’t pay me, sir, I have some coin,” you add quickly before holding out your hand and revealing the four gold coins in it. The smith’s eyes widened for a moment as he saw the gold before he schooled his features once more.

“What’s your name, boy?” He asked, eyes flicking back to yours and resuming his stern expression.

“I am Alanus Saturninus Italica,” you reply to the man, giving him a name you had crafted for the character you are playing.

“A posh Roman then,” the smith said with a ‘harrumph’.

“Alanus of Italica works,” you tell the man. The smith’s eyes return to the gold in your hand before flicking toward the sound of his daughter, studiously ignoring what’s going on to file her scythe like her life depended on it.

“There are no slaves in this household,” the smith told you, returning his attention to you. “There’ll be work involved and no passing it on,” he added. “You earn your bread and soup,” he said.

“If I wanted an easy life, I’d have stayed at home and watched the slaves tend the estate,” you replied. “I want to make iron and steel,” you say. The smith nodded to himself for a moment.

“Very well then, hold onto those coins boy, You’ll earn me that much at least before your time is done here,” he told you. “And if I catch you ogling my daughters again, I’ll break your hands so you’ll never be a smith,” he told you in a low threatening voice.

“Of course sir,” you say happily, “I’ll be perfectly respectful,” you lie.