Monroe

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-One. Hail to the King.

"Your Majesty," an acolyte bowed deeply as Kellan stepped through the Gateway.

He looked around the unfinished Church, noting that the altar to Vi'Radia was at the front, while the two sides each held three smaller altars, with the final altar in the back.

The stone beneath his feet was white marble inlaid with gold, and it sang softly of Vi'Radia's blessing as he strode out of the building.

He emerged into the morning light, where he spent several long moments looking around.

The refugees had built a substantial earthen berm, topped by a shorter wall. The encampment within those walls was laid out with an admirable degree of precision and displayed none of the litter he'd expected to see from refugees. He heard a hundred voices calling out, and he stepped down to look behind the temple, where he watched as a hundred men thundered past, each footfall in sync with the others.

He could feel the blessing of Erros working as the words carried to his ears. "He was trained in Paris Island, the place that god forgot." A voice called out another line, and all the men responded, "The sand was fourteen inches deep, the sun was boiling hot!"

They continued behind the Adventurer's Guild, the only other building that looked at all familiar to him. He turned and inspected the rest of the camp, this time paying attention to the men. They were all tier five humans, wearing clothing of the exact same pattern. He couldn't see anyone lazing about; each man visible walked with a purpose. There were also no women visible, which he found odd. Turning to head towards the Tavern, he paused and squinted.

That was a tower. Kellan made an effort of will and lifted himself off the ground on a thin platform of air, racing up and over to the building. He slowed as he approached and circled it carefully. It was perhaps a thousand feet tall and likely half that on each side. He fought down his natural instinct to knock it down, as it was an affront to see a building taller than his own palace. Instead, he landed on one of the peculiar skeletal floors. His feet touched the stone, and he reached out to place a hand on a pillar, letting his Stone Sense expand. The entire building was made of summoned stone blocks, melded together. He could feel where the stone met the bedrock and drove down deeply into it, anchoring the building. The latticework of supports being used was excruciatingly well designed. He could tell that each floor was a mere ten feet high and that they hadn't yet been spatially expanded.

He removed his hand and looked around more closely. Having felt the tower, he now knew that these open spaces were meant to allow the wind to pass through rather than forcing it to hammer at the building. He shook his head. He couldn't imagine tier five humans with no access to magic being able to build something like this, but the design was utterly alien.

Stepping back out into the air, he rushed back to the encampment. He would have liked to have stretched his wings this morning, but it wouldn't do to terrify the men below with his true majestic visage. He'd give them a show as he left, he decided. Stepping smoothly onto the ground, he ducked his head to enter the Tavern, noting that two of the men stood guard outside but didn't challenge his right to enter. Looking around, he saw an appropriately sized chair sitting in the corner with a stepped table, half of it sized for him, while the other half was sized for the humans. Three humans were seated already, awaiting his pleasure. He smiled and strode over to the seat that had been creat- summoned for him. He could feel the mana locked within it, marking it as a persistent effect. The mana's song resonated with the man sitting to his right. "You must be Bob," Kellan smiled.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Bob replied, bowing his head in respect. Kellan nodded his approval.

Kellan glanced at the other two men. One was like a functionary or servant, without a trace of mana, while the other stood perhaps halfway through tier five. It was hard to judge lesser beings accurately.

"This is Mike Hanson," Bob gestured to the man who had at least some mana, "and this is Mr. Heller, the Secretary of Defense of the United States of America."

"I'm afraid that while Erros brings your words to my ears as ones I may understand, She doesn't offer any insight to their arrangement to those who aren't truly devoted, and my soul shines with Vi'Radia's blessed light," Kellan replied.

"That's fair," Bob replied, "The Secretary of Defense is the civilian in charge of the United States Military," he paused and frowned, "I think."

Heller smiled, and Kellan was instantly reminded of the heads of his Noble Houses. "Close enough, I'm not sure we need to spend the time boring his majesty with the minutiae of our bureaucracy," he said.

Kellan took a few seconds to evaluate the men in front of him. Heller was tense, frustrated, and resentful but unafraid. Mike Hanson was also tense and apprehensive. Bob was utterly terrified, although he managed to present an appearance of calm that was admirable.

"I am Kellan Gervades, Defender of Greenwold, Blessed of Vi'Radia, Sovereign of the Skies," he intoned, "on behalf of my Kingdom, I welcome you to her soil, may you always find shelter from the Shadows in Vi'Radia's blessed light."

Heller continued to smile, although it had become more strained, while Mike Hanson delivered a short, sharp nod of respect, while Bob bowed as low as he could from his seated position.

"Bob," Kellan began, "I received your tithe yesterday, and I was surprised at the amount. Nora explained that you'd collected all the crystals gathered in the Dungeon and applied my tax to that amount before returning the crystals to your people so that they could increase their levels."

"Yes Your Majesty," Bob replied, "although I'm sure there is some small amount of, let's say, 'loss' when the crystals are brought out of the Dungeon, I'm fairly certain I've accounted for all but perhaps a hundredth of a percent."

Kellan could feel the ring of truth in his words, a slight echo of his own Divine blessing of Veritas.

"While I've never before had reason to complain of excess taxes," Kellan smiled, "in the future, please don't feel that you need to tax those brave men and women who delve the Dungeon here on the crystals that they'll be using to increase their levels."

"As Your Majesty wills," Bob responded.

Kellan cocked his head to the side as he inspected Bob more closely. The man was beyond terrified.

"Bob, I don't mean to intrude, but you seem ill at ease with my presence, despite our having never met before," he tried his best gentle smile, "please know that you have nothing to fear from me."

Bob grimaced and swallowed hard before looking up to meet his eyes. "Your Majesty, no disrespect intended, but are you not capable of wiping out this entire encampment with a single breath?" Bob asked.

Kellan leaned back slightly. "While you aren't wrong," he began, "I can't imagine a scenario where I would find that necessary."

Bob leaned forward and patted the table lightly, several times in rapid succession. "Oh, don't worry," he paused before patting the table again, "we can imagine that for you."

"You're what I think we would call a 'Global Threat,'" Bob continued, "you could hiccup and level this place, killing everyone here."

Kellan leaned back further, letting out a slight sigh. Now he understood. He mentally raised his estimate of Bob several tiers. The man demonstrated a degree of concern and caution that only the brightest of his Nobles, such as Wallenstair, ever approached.

Heller and Mike Hanson were exchanging looks.

"Perhaps I'm missing something," Heller interjected, "how exactly would his majesty destroy this encampment by breathing."

Mike involuntarily rubbed his temples before jerking his hands back down to his sides. Kellan hid a smile. That one was clever as well.

Bob looked at him, then at Heller. Seeing that Kellan wasn't explaining, Bob spoke. "His Majesty is a Dragon, Mr. Secretary," Bob hissed across the table, "not only is he a Dragon, but he's also the most powerful person on the entire continent. From what I understand about Dragons, he's like a walking tactical nuke."

Kellan smiled lazily. He'd rather that he didn't need to have people fear him, but it was awfully convenient at times. He made a mental note to investigate what exactly a 'nuke' was.

"A Dragon?" Heller asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

"Yes," Bob replied in a low, fierce tone, "A Dragon, like fifty feet long, twenty tons, a propensity to breath fire at two thousand degrees celsius!"

Kellan coughed, allowing a touch of smoke to color the air. All three humans turned their heads. "Eighty feet long, and around a hundred and sixty thousand pounds," he smiled urbanely.

Heller paled as he swallowed hard. Bob simply nodded, cataloging the information, while Mike Hanson just tilted his head and blinked before returning to his previous stiff posture.

"As for the temperature of my breath weapon," Kellan mused, "that serves as an example of the differences in our cultures. Erros tells me that celsius is a measurement of heat, whereas everyone here on Thayland would instead measure it in terms of damage done. In which case, that number is rather personal, but we'll simply say it's well into six figures and leave it at that."

He looked down at Bob. "I believe I understand better now why you delivered your tithe as you did," he tried his gentle smile again. It didn't appear to work. "Allow me to place your fears to rest," he began, "Robert Whitman, since your arrival upon our soil, you have risked your life for our people, placing yourself in harms way repeatedly."

"Further," he continued, "you have determined new paths to power for our people, which you've shared without any request for recompense or reward."

He thought Bob might have paled slightly at that statement. "Yes, we are aware that it was your efforts that produced those lovely pamphlets. Our Nobles might have been fooled by Thidwell Orstang's attempt at obfuscation; however, we see more clearly," he smiled.

"In all this, you asked for nothing, even taking it upon yourself to act as a shepherd for some of our less fortunate citizens," Kellan's smile widened as he glanced at Heller. "Know that your actions serve your people well, for they have predisposed us to look favorably upon you."

"We would not turn you away in any event," he stated, "for surely our paths would be cast into shadow were we not to make every effort to aid you in your attempt to save as many from your world as you can."

"To that end, I will accept your proposed lease agreement. Five percent of all the mana crystals harvested from any Dungeons delved by Earth," Kellan finished.

"Lease agreement?" Heller asked.

"His Majesty owns this continent," Bob replied, his voice level, "so yes, I offered five percent of the mana crystals gathered as a sort of lease, showing our gratitude for his generosity in accepting billions of people seeking refuge on his land, even if only temporarily."

Kellan stifled another smile. Despite his terror, Bob was rather fun.

"You didn't think to consult someone before making this agreement?" Heller's tone was disapproving.

"Who would he have consulted?" Kellan asked. "You?" He chuckled. "You might have some importance back on your world, but here," he gestured, "you are less than nothing." He shook his head in amazement, "The only reason I've tolerated your presence at my table is that Bob appears to have wanted you here." Kellan leaned forward. "Understand that here, as someone who has not yet tasted mana; you are a child. Children should listen quietly when their elders speak," he finished, allowing a trace of his true lineage to seep through, his gaze pinning Heller in place.

Heller had grown paler and paler, with his jaw finally clicking shut as he shrank back in his chair.

Mike Hanson winced slightly, and Kellan wondered if he might borrow the man from Bob. Watching his reactions while he dealt with his Nobles would be a wonderful source of amusement.

Kellan smiled at Bob again. "I've tasted your mana and found you to be true," he proclaimed. "Henceforth, I will accept your tithe and lease for any land your people need to occupy on the eastern half of my continent. I will make it known that you have earned my favor and are to be considered the highest authority amongst your people," he paused as he registered the utter terror that had finally managed to break through Bob's impressive facade, "at least in regards to your peoples' dealings with our Kingdom."

Bob's face sagged in relief before his mask snapped back into place, and Kellan idly wondered if he could steal both Mike Hanson and Bob for his next open court.

He stood and motioned for Bob to precede him out of the Tavern. The man continued to show his perspicacity, leading the way through the Tavern and out the doors.

Heller and Mike Hanson followed along.

Kellan nodded to them each in turn, although his acknowledgment of Heller was rather shorter than that which he afforded to Mike Hanson and Bob.

"Know that you may find me at our palace in Harbordeep," Kellan said as he eyed the sky. "Until next we meet, may Vi'Radia light your path."

He teleported into the sky, where he instantly embraced his true form, reveling in the shouts from below as the alien humans witnessed his Majesty.

Bob watched the Dragon fly away and sighed in relief. "That could have gone worse," he muttered as he turned to head back into the Tavern, coming to a halt as he nearly ran into Secretary of Defense Heller.

Heller was pale and shaking, staring at the receding form of the King of Greenwold as he winged away at dazzling speed.

Bob looked at Mike, who was rubbing his temples.

"What?" Bob asked.

"The King of Greenwold basically just chose you as Earth's ambassador," Mike grumbled.

Bob paled. That hadn't been what the King really meant, had it? He mentally reviewed the King's statement, then closed his eyes. He took several deep, calming breaths. Realizing that it wasn't working, he pulled a sleeping Monroe out of his inventory and cuddled the huge Maine-coone to his chest as he walked around the Secretary of Defense and headed back to his table.

He needed a few minutes to process all this, and that time was best spent with a kitty.