Chapter 140: The Eyeblight Assassin (Patreon)

“How should you proceed to get the best deal for us?” Tusile repeats my question. “That is a very difficult question to answer. It all depends on the situation; usually, trade deals take days to ponder over and work out, but the most important rule is always to be the one in power. What I mean by that is always be the one who has something other people want, that way, they must always take a worse deal or simply not get what they want or even need.” Tusile gives me a wide smile.

“The best thing you can do is threaten to take your wares elsewhere for a better deal. You have done well to recognize that us having more valuable money is a good thing if we want to trade with them, we spend less. These are not our people, and by the sounds of it, they have wealthy leaders, so take them for everything they are willing to give.”

It sounds... selfish, greedy, and unsympathetic to try and wring people out of everything they’ve got; I don’t like it. It’s just another form of tyranny, creating an even larger divide between the rich and poor. Why can’t we just have a fair deal?

“I don’t like it, it’s greedy, and people will suffer because of it,” I say, letting my emotions show, drooping my ears slightly.

“A leader’s only responsibility is to their people,” Tusile says. “It is best for us to do this, and they understand that, for they would do the same to us. Both sides know what must be done; it’s how the game is played.”

“It’s a stupid game!” I cross my arms. I hate politics for this exact reason; the only reason why I didn’t offer a simple and fair deal was that my role instincts from [Acting] told me that it was a very bad idea. “I am not cut out for this stuff, this... game.”

“Opetu and Yukika also disliked things like this,” Tusile mentions the former elders. Opetu died during the fire storm, and Yukika was murdered by Papuyo’s faction. “But that’s why they were also popular Elders; they cared for the people. We need leaders who care, but they must be strong enough to make hard choices, and now that falls on you, Alysara. You need to make the hard choice. Just remember, they won’t show you any mercy. Their job is not to care for us, and our job is not to care for them; let them lead their people in the way they see fit. Every leader must know to prepare for bad times and know how to take advantage of the good times.”

In other words, they’ll figure it out even if they are dealt with a shit deal. What’s more, we aren’t even talking about the actual trade deal yet, just what the currency exchange rate should be and how it should be calculated.

“You should know that I talked with Guklaro; she mentioned that you walked out on her and haven’t spoken to her since,” Tusile says. “She’s been stressed lately, being the only Elder right now.”

“What happened to the other one?” I ask. There was another Elder in training, but she just disappeared one day.

“She was a spy for Papuyo; I don’t know where she went after the cursed being.” Tusile answers before continuing like the question never happened.

“We care for you, Alysara, everyone does, but we worry about you, we want to see you safe and healthy, but it is your mental state that worries us most. You have a negative view about yourself, Alysara; the entire reason why crafts are so important to living a fulfilling life is that it gives us a healthy sense of self. By making and accomplishing things, we can begin to acknowledge our abilities; everyone wants to have something they can say they are good at, that they can be proud of something. What are you proud of?”

“There are lots of things I can be proud of, my Diadem and Dryads Grace staff, my research into magic and mana, and my mastery into my Bond,” I reply. “I can admit that there are some things I am good at; it’s just that people have an over-inflated perception of me. My view of myself is perfectly fine; it’s not the problem.”

“What about Airships, the village plumbing, the spell crystals, the armor ideas for fighting monsters, your win during the Kheshamo tournament? Are you proud of those accomplishments?”

“Not really,” I say and lazily rest my head on my right hand, playing with a strand of hair. It’s not very elegant, but that’s the challenge; if I can make it graceful and elegant, it should help me level up my Bond. “The only airship I am personally making is not yet complete; anyone can figure out the plumbing if they tried, same with the spell crystals and armor; as for the tournament, I don’t really care for it, I fight because I need to, not because I want to.”

“If anyone can figure it out, then why haven’t they?” Tusile says, letting out a long sigh of frustration.

“For the sewers they did, the risen city has one, sure it’s not the same, but the function is the same. For armor, it just wasn’t needed, so no one had a reason to invent it; as for the spell crystals, I was just trying something, and it worked; anyone could have stumbled into it if they could do what I did, besides it’s a technology that other parts of the world has, if what Kayafe says is true” Also I never made a ‘First Spell Crystal’ like I did for inscriptions, so it has been made before.

“That’s what I mean, Alysara; most people would be proud of that even if others could have done then; it’s a great accomplishment regardless. Let’s put it this way: say that someone made a tower so high it goes beyond the clouds; would that not be an impressive feat?”

“Well, it certainly would; building something that tall requires a lot of time and dedication, not to mention bravery unless they can fly,” I say, sitting up straight. “But the real feat is the hard work put into it. Anyone can stack bricks, but not anyone has the dedication to stack that much nor the bravery to stack it that high. You seem to be under the misconception that many of my feats required a lot of me when it was merely tedious work at best. Don’t get me wrong, many things that require a relatively small amount of work can still represent years of mastery which in turn makes the fact that it is so easily done an impressive feat.”

Tusile lets out a sigh of resignation and slumps her shoulders. “There’s no winning with you,” she mutters. “look, just know that Guklaro didn’t mean to offend you; she’s overworked and didn’t think her actions through.”

“I’ll forgive her,” I say

I check my mana as I leave the Temple; it’s still dropping. I am getting quite a hefty tax on my mana usage operating a clone that far so much it’s canceling out my mana regen. I won’t be able to have a clone there for more than a day or two, so anything physical I send over there I will have to bring back or just leave it behind like my storage ring. I can always make another, so it’s not that big of a loss.

I should use this time to check out what that Empire is doing and get a clear picture of what’s going on. Also, my range should have expanded enough for me to fully see the extent of this island and explore what that last nation is.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Boring! This new Emperor is boring! It’s been so long since the last war since something interesting happened. Sentaron Klaman, The Eyeblight Assassin, flicks his tail in annoyance, watching the young Emperor be entertained by court jesters. A hedonistic fool! What has this Empire gone to?

Klaman reminisces back on the last four hundred years. The time he slew a great Island Eater and saved the Empire, the time he slew a Leviathan, the time he slaughtered an entire invading army on the land bridge near Bastion city. It’s a shame the first Emperor never achieved Lengendary tier like him, his friend whose legacy and bloodline he swore to protect forever would be ashamed by the recent line of Emperors.

Blood stagnates, that’s for sure; all that bullshit about ‘keeping the bloodline pure’ is utter nonsense. The true Lunaleyan heritage is long gone by now, replaced by this giggling, fat, imbecile! He often wondered if somewhere down the line, the Empress sired someone else’s child instead of the Emperor’s.

Death is a mercy sometimes. Klaman would rather not have seen his friend’s bloodline fail so miserably, but he is no ruler; he is an assassin, the best in the world. Even the system as seen fit to grant him a title, The Eyeblight Assassin. He needs no retaliation items, for he is the ultimate counterintelligence. Anyone who spies on him he can instantly teleport to and swiftly end them. No need to mess around with mind mages, no need to break past scapegoats or track through proxies; he appears, cuts the head off the spy and teleports back before anyone even knows what happened.

The Young Emperor claps as the court jester ends his performance. He sips his wine glass sloppily and belches. “Another one! Give me another show!” he demands.

How far has this rotten bloodline gone? His father may have been dumb but didn’t drown himself in wine and pleasure all day, letting the empire fall in disarray. It is a tragedy that the previous Emperor died before a grandson was born, someone who could have hopefully been a better person. Thankfully, there should be a number of bastards by now, and Klaman would just have to find the nearest whorehouse to find them.

“That’s enough, Your Majesty,” Klaman says, waving a hand. The jester disappears as if reality willed it so. “He’s been at this for-”

“BRING HIM BACK!” the young Emperor roars. “I AM THE EMPEROR. YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!” The Young Emperors’ fat cheeks flop around disgustingly.

Klaman is so sick of this man child, but what can he do? He swore to his friend to keep his bloodline safe and his Empire thriving. The only issue now is that his bloodline is killing his Empire. Klaman can only hope this overgrown toddler will just drown in wine before the Empire falls.

“...Four hours now, he’s tir-”

“YOU WILL BRING HIM BACK, OR I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A PIKE!”

Klaman sighs as he tries to wrestle the beast inside him down. This fat man, a lesser Adept tier... creature, cannot ope to go against a legendary being like Klaman, All he has to do is raise his mana output enough, and everyone in the palace will die of mana toxicity.

“...tired, let him rest-”

“GUARDS! TAKE THIS TRAITOR TO THE DUNGEONS, ARREST HIM!”

The guards look at the Emperor, then at Klaman, then back to the Emperor

“Your majesty, he’s Legendar-”

“YOU WILL ARREST HIM, OR YOU WILL JOIN HIM IN EXECUTION!”

Klaman’s ears are starting to hurt by the young Emperor’s tantrum. He’s so sick of this fat man.

“But your majesty,”... the guards say, shaking under Klaman’s glare.

“TRAITORS! TRAITORS IN THE COURT! HELP!”

Something in Klaman cracks, anger bursts forth as his body grows hot with rage. He just needs to make sure the bloodline survives? He needs to keep the Empire thriving? Alright, then he will make sure this fat man lives but won’t be in a position to rule!

The Young Emperor’s tantrum turns into a scream of agony, and his arms and legs vanish as if reality devoured his limbs; then, the world turns quiet as if the realm decided that sound should not exist but judging by the moving mouth of the Emperor, he’s still screaming.

“The Emperor is unwell,” Klaman says, extending his Bond presence, pressuring all in warning to not resist. Every man and woman collapse to their knees, shaking in terror. “His condition has rendered him unable to lead, and another must act in his stead.”

Klaman looks at the court attendees one by one, letting the uncomfortable and eery silence settle in. No one meets his eyes; after all, Who would dare to go against a Legendary tier being?

“Right... The royal bloodline must continue, so our priority will be to find a suitable... partner, someone who is closest to the true Lunaleyan lineage. We will also need to reign in the governers, make sure they toe the line. We will make this crumbling Empire thrive again!”