“Queen Lydia!”

The enthusiastic words came from a man that emerged from the centre of the event. Like John had often seen from members of the traditionalist faction in Germany’s politics, he wore a mixture of a modern suit and medieval garbs that signified his standing in the noble hierarchy. Specifically, he wore a half-cape of deep red, embroidered with a complicated crest that depicted a man with a salver getting knighted by a red-haired lord.

It was a near absolute confirmation who he was dealing with, but John checked Observe anyway. Bertrand was level 87. Above what was normal for his station and no threat to John, even in his weakened state, as Lydia had said. He was only a few years older than John, 25, had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was attractive and a bit shorter than the Gamer.

John rarely paid attention to his own face, but he knew when he was across someone who looked similar to himself. It was actually rare to find someone who was as decisively plain in his looks as the Gamer was and he had never met someone who actually was both as plain and as attractive as him. It was a mixture that was exceedingly rare. There, however, Bertrand was.

Their similarity was enough that it bothered John, but not enough that he thought anyone would ever get the two of them confused. Because of their features being what they were, they could have been interchangeably used on the cover of a magazine aiming to entice women to buy them. Otherwise, they were their individual people.

“So glad you could make it,” Bertrand spoke with genuine happiness, which was interesting.

“Only extraneous circumstances could ever persuade me to miss a gathering I have agreed to,” Lydia stated and offered her hand. It annoyed John a little, to see this half-baked copy of him kiss the hand of his date. That was just the general possessiveness acting up. It only lasted as briefly as was decent and Betrand took half a step back afterwards. “I surprisingly found an additional guest to accompany me tonight, I trust that will not be an issue?”

The noble’s smile visibly soured when his gaze skirted over John and returned to bright when they reached Nightingale. “A truly pleasant surprise, to have the legendary songstress and goddess of the night in my court.” He returned his focus to Lydia. “We have the space,” he responded coldly.

‘One has to love noble word games,’ John thought and he meant that. Deciphering the unspoken or properly unpacking the wording of people who talked for their status was like being presented with a never-ending chain of riddles. Something had to entertain his erudite mind while he was having basic conversations with these people. ‘Should I point out that he didn’t properly answer Lydia’s question…? No, let’s wait with getting aggressive until he’s a few drinks in.’

“Good, then I wou-“

“LADY LYDIA!” a new voice echoed through the veranda, interrupting conversations as its source strutted quickly towards them.

Another man approached them, one in a grey suit that looked more washed out than specifically coloured. Underneath was a black shirt, with a black tie, he had black, dull shoes, and wore black gloves. All of that made for a depressing, colourless mix that worked too well with his dark, greying hair, the uncombed strands reaching the length of his chin. He had bags under his eyes, was thin and slightly hunched. The only real colour to him were his red eyes.

Even after having met an actual one, John could not believe that the sleazy man approaching them was not a vampire. In passing, he grabbed a glass of champagne from the hands of a fellow noble that had just taken it off the table. They did not dare to complain. This was, after all, one of the major power holders within the Sons of Rome.

“Lord Suel…” Lydia greeted the man in a deflated tone.

John raised his eyebrows at that. In the first place, hearing Lydia speak publicly in such a tired way was unusual. It would have been rare even in private. Secondly, he knew she had only disdain for this man and had never hidden it. ‘Am I being paranoid?’ he asked himself. It wouldn’t have been the first time. ‘I’m usually right though…’

“It is indeed I,” the noble took a pause to down ‘his’ glass of champagne. He revealed a pair of sharp fangs when he let out a loud, “Aaaahhh! Lord of Pontis, Suel.”

It was downright absurd he wasn’t a vampire. He wasn’t one to wear it on himself, but John knew that his house crest was a bat on a blood red background and that he had chosen to introduce it in the last twenty years. Still, he wasn’t a vampire. Then again, he could have been. The Gamer wasn’t able to get an Observe through.

Suel directed his red eyes at him. “Be careful where you direct your eyes, my boy,” the sleazy man chastised with a wink. “Do you not have more interesting people to stare at? There are two of your extensive harem present, after all.”

“That decision has not yet been made, Lord of Pontis,” Nightingale frostily interjected. “Do not ascribe what you do not know.”

“Oh, my mistake, I’m so poorly informed,” Suel waved off.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” John joked.

“You know fairly little about me, to be fair.,” Suel snickered and patted the Gamer on the shoulder. The touch was deeply unwelcome. Plenty of reasons were to be had why just about every person that knew the Lord of Pontis described him as a cunt. “This is only the second time we meet.”

“I feel like I know a lot about you,” John stated.

Suel’s eyes flickered between him and Lydia. “Do you now?” he asked in a deeper tone. “Do tell, what am I?”

“A deeply… charming person,” John responded without missing a beat.

Suel waited for a moment, then laughed loudly. There was something unnerving about it, as if spiders were about to crawl out of his mouth. Everyone seemed eager to get away from it. “I most certainly am! Thank you for the kind words, President Newman.”

“Lord Suel, is there any reason you stormed into my greeting of the queen?” Bertrand asked, having found his verbal footing again.

“I just wanted to break etiquette,” Suel stated, before walking away. “Please find me at your leisure – Empress.”

Scoffs and deep inhales were had around the room. This was a traditionalist gathering, which typically meant they saw Rex Germaniae as a part of Romulus’ Empire. German loyalists within Rex Germaniae used ‘Empress in Germany’ to refer to their ruler during gatherings on this level. The Lord of Pontis, whose lands were located by the black sea, using it could have been seen as support of secession.

Because it was Suel who said it, nobody took it quite seriously.

Which was too convenient for John to ignore. While Bertrand and Lydia went through the rest of the spiel of greeting a ruler to a gala, John opened the Harem Comms to drop Lydia a message. Others may have been able to see him tap the air in weird ways, but no one would be able to see what he wrote, outside of those who had the Lover’s Will mark – which described only Lydia, the shadow spirit hiding under John’s feet, and the blonde security babe patrolling the outer perimeter of the barrier.

John: Is he supporting Germany’s independence or something?

Lydia: My lips are sealed on this matter.

John furrowed his eyebrows. He knew that Lydia was keeping something from him, she had told him that she was doing it and that she would reveal everything when she could. That Suel was involved in it was cause for concern. His trust, however, was larger.

He did not manage to type a response before Bertrand turned to him. “President Newman of Fusion,” the noble said, barely hiding his disdain for the title.

“Please, President John will be enough,” he assured in nearly accent-free German. “May I ask for the same courtesy? Your family name is quite the handful, Viscount von Großhofstadt-vor-Sigmaringen.”

“You may call me Viscount Bertrand or Lord Bertrand,” the noble said.

“How magnanimous,” John said, a hint of sarcasm slipping in his voice. A tactical blunder. John’s current strategy was to lower Bertrand’s guard and deliver a straight verbal slap when he was drunk. ”My apologies, that tone was uncalled for.”

Bertrand blinked twice. “How insightful of you,” he said, pleased. “In all due honesty, I do not appreciate your lifestyle, but I do appreciate you taking the time to socialize.” He moved on to Nightingale. “I double appreciate that his presence here allowed you to accompany him, goddess of the night.”

“I thank you for the warm reception, Viscount. As repayment for my unexpected addition, can I offer a song to this crowd of lords and ladies?”

“You are under absolutely no obligation!” Bertrand assured hastily. “We would be most pleased, however, if you did. If you wish, do converse with my court musicians.” He gestured towards the duo of pianist and violinist that were providing steady, quiet tones.

“I shall do so then.” Slightly, Nightingale raised her voice. “My suitor, I will converse with the musicians. Do mingle.”

“Gladly,” John said, giving her shoulder a kiss, before letting go of her. After exchanging a glance with Lydia, he let go of her as well. “I suppose I might as well talk to some members of your queendom,” he said. “Try to make myself popular.”

“Perhaps not an entirely lost cause,” Bertrand whispered quietly.

That gave John reason to pause and reconsider the stance of his double. ‘Temporary niceness or should I re-evaluate my goals? 35 GP is not worth humiliating a good man in his own house,’ the Gamer thought. ‘I’ll need to keep an eye on this.’ “Well, I certainly hope so,” he responded quietly.

“I will reconvene with you later, then, my love,” Lydia said and waited close. A quick goodbye kiss on the mouth, and she was on her way.

John suppressed his grin. There were envious gazes, for good reason. Traditionalists or not, everyone understood that Lydia was rich and attractive beyond the standards of Abyssals. Nightingale did not have the monetary means, but she was prestigious in different ways and just as gorgeous. Both were incredibly powerful. Of course, they would want what he had. He could hardly believe he even had those two, not to mention the harem beyond that.

Life was truly something to cherish.

Which was a thought John had to hold onto, as he entered the fray of nobles on his own. Well, Siena was still in his shadow, but that was moral support more than anything else. ‘Might as well try to make a few acquaintances,’ he thought. ‘Not like this is fully hostile territory.’

He was surrounded by Lydia’s ‘enemies’. They served as her political opposition and that was as far as their adversarial relationship went. There was no threat of them taking over Germany or even taking her out of the throne. The worst they could do was to get hold of the necessary levers of power to make her decisions inconsequential. Even if they succeeded in that for the time being, the tug of war would be continuous.

While John, like Lydia, believed that many a noble privilege was horribly misplaced and unearned, he did acknowledge that most nobles thought they were acting in the best interest of their area. Very few people in power were ever so decisively selfish to just care about having the power for the power’s sake.

It was an often-stated weakness of democracy that people were too occupied with staying in power to use that power to get anything beneficial done. Personally, John believed that same problem to exist in every other system or, in the case of nobility, that the negative effects of complacency outweighed whatever positive development there may have been.

In any case, people liked to believe that they were the best for what area they governed over. They had to believe that. Otherwise, they would have to put down the position or acknowledge they truly were selfish assholes. That was a thing John could somewhat admire Arkeidos for. The Emperor had definitely known what he was.

‘He’s also proof that honesty with oneself can be way worse than pretending to be a good person,’ the Gamer thought. ‘Wonder how long he’ll keep surfacing in my thoughts… some people leave a lot of impact, others… I barely think about Victoria or Igor at all… even Herman isn’t much on my mind these days… Feels weird to realize that.’

Before he got too conscious about himself, he made eye contact with a noblewoman. She was attractive and married, as the ring on her finger so clearly showed. John didn’t even have to try to keep his eyes off her cleavage, ample as it was, he wasn’t in the mood to ogle random women, especially not other people’s wives.

“President Newman,” she greeted him and waved him into the group of people she was standing in. Just like that, the Gamer was part of a group of six, himself included. All of them were finely dressed, the crest of their houses adorning them in heavily pronounced ways, typically as capes for the men and necklaces for the women. “We were informed you might visit us today. How do you like the gala?”

“It’s a lovely place to hold an event,” he said what he meant and swallowed his opinion about the cause of it. “It is only right that I visit the country of my Lydia every so often.”

“Your Lydia? Quite brazen to say you own the queen,” one of the noblemen commented in a mildly chiding tone. It was all that slipped past an otherwise friendly face.

“Well, love is complicated. I wouldn’t dare to say I won the queen, only the woman – and that she owns me.”

“You have split loyalties, do you not?” a noblewoman asked.

“I suppose my loyalty is split, but I haven’t betrayed anyone.” He shrugged with a pleasing smile. “Ladies, gentlemen, you can try to haze me over the personal choices of me and my love, but that will fall on deaf ears. It’s none of your business, frankly.” Disagreement was clear on all their faces. “Instead, let us talk about what is productive. Do any of you wish to have some of your scholars learn in Fusion for a few years?”

The question would have been answered with smirks a month ago and gotten outright laughed at six months ago. Today, the reputation of Fusion’s learning facilities was better than ever.

The Hudson University had started with Magoi’s Fateweavers and expanded steadily, as John managed to take in entrepreneurs and researchers from all walks of life all across the continent. The process had put a lot of brain drain on the rural areas of Fusion, but that was a necessary sacrifice to create a centre of learning that then could create scholars which could bleed back out into the surrounding areas. John had his dislikes of centralized government, but it did have its perks.

Aside from concentrating the knowledge of his own country, there were the constant deals he made with other guilds. Fusion ‘borrowed’ their experts in exchange for good paying jobs for said experts and great trade deals for the countries of origin. One of John’s goals was to make things so wonderful around the Hudson Barrier to keep those people there permanently. Having them show the ropes of their crafts to the locals was the primary value they offered, though.

Interestingly, it had not been the, still growing, Hudson University itself that had managed to garner the attention of the world. It had been a rapid development over the past week, spurred on by Momo’s ceaseless office work, and spawned by Aclysia. The maids were to thank, literally, as it was people gaining interest in Aclysia’s maid school and then further checking what Fusion had to offer in terms of education. They had found a growing campus that contained the most modernized tools and laboratories in the world – less than an hour away from an endless spawning point of research materials.

They were 12 days out from Fusion’s first anniversary and everything was going fantastic.

“I do have a daughter that would perhaps benefit from education in your Fateweaving department…” one the noble’s broke.