Chapter 74 - The Ku’zi (Patreon)

Inquisitor Ar-Dagan

Mind control, in Inquisitor Ar-Dagan’s opinion, was horrifically overrated. Yes, it got short-term results, but inevitably, someone would break free from a control spell and it always resulted in a mess. No, the best kind of control was the one where the target was wrapped up in bonds of their own making. People who believed they were making decisions with their own free will.

The best slaves served willingly.

Ar-Dagan adjusted his tie in the mirror of his hotel room. Suits were stupid looking things; they were intentionally bland, and had no personality. Ties, on the other hand, at least were interesting. He liked his ties to have subtle notes of white and gold. In a sense, he was wearing his true loyalty around his neck, right in front of his targets. That was satisfying.

He adjusted his watch. It was a forgery of a very expensive Royal Oak. Ar-Dagan couldn’t bring himself to care at all about things like “brands” or “fashion,”—the manipulative delusions of the merchant-prince caste in this world didn’t interest him in the slightest—but his research team had assured him the timepiece would send the right signal to the right people. Finally, he checked his eyes and skin. It was the right shade: the shade the people on this world called “white,” but was more of an ugly mess of splochy tans, marred by imperfections and the visible blue of veins. It wasn’t the proper white of celestial marble. The tone was surprisingly difficult to replicate, even if it was revolting. Good. His control hadn’t slipped. He had decades of experience manipulating his drudic conduit to enhance his shapeshifting spells, but it was always important to make sure his form was perfect.

“I’m David Morgan,” he said, holding out his hand to the mirror. He looked for the sly half-smile that projected confidence. He listened to make sure an accent wasn’t even hinted at. He had done this countless times before, but slips in discipline were how people made mistakes. Inquisitor Ar-Dagan did not abide mistakes.

Satisfied, he grabbed the leather briefcase and headed for the door.

His guard detail was already out in the halls, securing this floor of the hotel, wearing the culturally appropriate clothing of this sphere-world: their own suits, black sunglasses, and an earpiece. They carried the primitive yet surprisingly effective weapons the locals preferred at their belts, though if it came to a real fight, they had their magic to fall back on, and none of them would die to a mere chemically propelled projectile. Blending in was all about meeting expectations. A man of Morgan’s position was expected to have guards, so he had guards, hired through a tangle of shell corporations.

He made his way to the limo waiting out front. Glancing down a row of skyscrapers, he could see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles a few blocks down—the remains of another portal raid. Down the street, he heard a scream of sorrow and rage. Two men were restraining a woman who was trying to cross the barriers that had been erected around the torn-up street. It did not move him. Such was the nature of the world, as it had been since Ahn had birthed the Realms from the primordial chaos and created the Great Light. Urtau had blessed the Hadaun and harnessed that holy light. It was only natural that those creatures not blessed by it would struggle and break.

He ducked his head into the passenger seat. The driver already knew where to go.

A few minutes later, the chauffeur opened the door for him, and Ar-Dagan made his way inside the restaurant, briefcase in hand. He made his way up a side-stair where another guard wearing sunglasses and an earpiece opened a door for him. Senator Richard Clayburn was already sitting down in the isolated booth, bottle of sauce in his hand, drizzling it on a steak. The inquisitor suppressed the urge to wrinkle his nose in contempt. There were two other men sitting next to him. The senator’s eyes brightened as he saw Ar-Dagan walk in.

“David! Pleasure to see you again,” he said. “I was just telling my friends here about your company’s work in acquisitions.”

Ar-Dagan smiled. “The pleasure is always mine, Richard. Who are your friends?” He already knew the answer. One was a retired general who worked for one of the large weapons companies, and the other a high-level official in the NSA, but he smiled and gave a firm handshake to each of them as the introductions were made.

They made light talk, with Senator Clayburn griping about how the golf courses were all closed now and the retired general complaining about how expensive it was to maintain a security team that could use speed boats and depth charges to keep sea serpents away from his yacht. Then Ar-Dagan steered the conversation towards one of the new bills that was making it through the House of Representatives that he needed stopped.

The old general was the first to complain. “It’s like we never defeated the damn USSR! Nationalize the defense industry? It’d be a disaster. We’d be losing good people as soon as it went through, never mind the hit to innovation. We’re at the bleeding edge of military technology! The last thing we need is a bunch of do-nothing reforms and chaos. Don’t they know there’s a war on?”

Ar-Dagan nodded along as the general continued his rant. Of course, the inquisitor actually thought the opposite. Powerful merchant groups had their purpose in a society, but the idea of having them in charge of the weapons the military needed to function was ludicrous. He was only surprised that none of this country’s rival powers had taken advantage of the obvious vulnerabilities first. He and his teams had studied the merchant princes of this world in depth. The complex and secretive networks of finance and corporations were effective as a tool for the rich of this world, but they were also simply used by anyone who had the money and slid aether into the right palms. His operation alone was now using dozens shell corporations and was continuing to infiltrate the boards of the big corporations. Gold, which was plentiful in the Realms, had made it easy to raise the funds in the local currency without giving the enemy anything that was actually useful. Most of their employees were sphere-world natives, always so desperate for money they didn’t care what kind of work they did to earn it. It only took a few Hadaun operatives to steer things as needed, or alert them to a place where their attention was critical.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Ar-Dagan said when the general finally stopped yammering, and shook his head sadly. “I sure hope the rest of the Senate can see some sense.”

“It’s the damn midterms again,” Clayburn said. “Half my colleagues don’t want to vote for it, but they’re sure they’ll lose a primary if they don’t. Plus there’s the damn Union Reform party, so they’re worried about the general too. Where are these upstarts getting their campaign money from, anyways? Smells like a rat to me.”

Ar-Dagan glanced at the NSA guy. “You know, I heard you were having trouble with the workload over in your offices. I have some network specialists who could help. They all have security clearances already. I think there’s a way to keep them off the budget lines. Don’t even consider it a favor; it’s just my duty as a patriotic American.”

The NSA guy nodded. “That sounds great. Didn’t used to have to worry about all this oversight, so it’d be much appreciated.”

Clayburn looked puzzled for a moment. “I thought the appropriations bill—” The general politely kicked him under the table, and the senator said, “Ohhhh, yeah, yeah, I get it. Yeah, that would be a relief. Alright, that’s enough talk of work.” He nodded at the briefcase.

Ar-Dagan smiled and brought it up on the table. With a click, the latches came free, and a soft golden glow illuminated the table.

Clayburn shook his head. “I don’t know how he does it. Most of those magic trinkets stop functioning when they get dropped here, but any that work, he company snaps up before anyone else even knows there’s a market. But these….!” The senator picked up a glowing golden bracelet from the case.

“What can I say? I’ve got the magic touch,” Ar-Dagan laughed. The other two started examining the other items in the case like children opening presents on the Festival of Lights.

Non-aetheric enchantments were expensive to make, but as long as these idiots were content with literal toys and shiny baubles, Ar-Dagan would give them as many as they wanted. Inquisitor Sabet had to promise most of the lizardfolk tribes actual Magic Cores and piles of aetherite to get their aid. He just had to hand out gold and trinkets. Not that Inquisitor Sabet’s operation wasn’t any less critical. Breaking the power of the lizardfolk had been a long-time coming, and by all accounts, Sabet was doing a marvelous job getting their portal mages killed, while parading around the few rich chiefs to get the others salivating with jealousy.

The meeting went on for a few more hours, and then Ar-Dagan made his way back to his hotel. He summoned his soulbound lens as soon as he was inside, then used that to check the integrity of the magic circles around the room. Good. To be complacent was to sin.

When he was sure the room was secure and warded, he pulled out his phone. A man picked up on the other end. Another contact, this one from Liberty Militia. “Mr. Turner, I have good news. My contacts came through. Your next weapons shipment is on its way…”

An hour of details and instructions later, he hung up, feeling very pleased.

The invasion, in Ar-Dagan’s opinion, was glittering like a golden field. So far, he hadn’t lost a single Hadaun operative. Why waste blood when you could get your enemy to destroy itself?

This country, like all the countries of this sphere-world, would be broken. He would make sure of it.

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[Malachi's Stat Sheet (End of Book 1)]

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Two chapters today because this last one is a bit short and they're both alt-povs. This concludes Book 1! Feel free to chat about your favorite parts, least favorite parts, where you think things are going, what promises you feel the story has made that you want to see fulfilled, or whatever comes to mind! As before, I try to plan out my pace of release so that even when I take breaks, there are no interruptions, so you can expect Book 2 to start immediately. And as always, thanks to everyone for the support that makes writing these books possible!