Monroe

Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty. Crashing the Vacation.

"Yorrick?" Bob asked, both surprised and confused by sudden appearance of the Warlock at his campsite along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

"Good afternoon!" Yorrick replied enthusiastically. "I heard you were on vacation, and I'm sort of waiting for the next wave, so I thought I'd find you and take a look at whatever is so interesting to you."

"How did you find me?" Bob asked.

"Bob," Yorrick shook his head sadly, "you're the second most powerful person on this planet right now. Your government is keeping an eye on you, and I got the sense that they were relieved to have me come visit you, rather than hanging around their offices, making a nuisance of myself."

"Of course they are, and of course you did," Bob sighed. "Can I safely assume that you understand the purpose of a vacation?" Bob asked.

"I do," Yorrick assured him.

"Then you know not to talk any sort of business or politics, or religion, or anything at all stressful," Bob replied. "That said, friends, this is Yorrick Wrathsbane, High Seat of the Warlocks Guild, Third Pillar of the Karcerian Empire and Emmisary to the governments of Earth. Yorrick, these are Dave, Amanda, Eddi, Wayna, Bailli, Erick, and Jessica."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Yorrick smiled brightly, offering a handshake to each person.

"I'd say likewise," Erick replied with a frown, "But you consort with demons."

"Ah, no religion or politics!" Yorrick waved a finger with a good-natured grin. "Bob's on vacation, no talking shop!"

"Besides," Yorrick said in what would have been a conspiratorial whisper had it not been loud enough to be heard twenty feet away, "I'm the fun kind of evil. Little e, not capital E. I'm not going around kicking puppies and cutting purses, or throats. I'm giving out free samples of ecstasy at the party, and making sure there are plenty of condoms for the orgy." Yorrick finished with a wink.

"So, what are we doing?" Yorrick asked, looking at the picnic table that was covered with D&D books and paraphernalia.

"We're playing a roleplaying game called Dungeons and Dragons," Bob explained, "which, oddly enough, is a lot like life on Thayland."

"Really?" Yorrick asked happily, "can I play?"

"Why is he here?" Erick hissed quietly.

"You know my policy on Dragons," Bob replied.

"Yes," Bailli was the one to reply, "we're well aware of your extreme paranoia."

"Yorrick felt comfortable teasing the King of Greenwold. My guess is that he is tier nine, which puts him on the same playing field, and thus my rules regarding Dragons apply to him as well," Bob shook his head. "As long as he isn't actively committing evil acts, I can't help but feel like having him with us is better than setting him lose on the unsuspecting populace of Earth."

"I can hear you, you know?" Yorrick called from across the camp.

"I did not, in fact, know that," Bob replied.

Yorrick walked over and shook his head in sadness, which was belied by the smile on his face. "Your senses tend to sharpen as you tier up," he explained. "But yes, Kellan and I are equals, in terms of power," he admitted, "although I'd never want to go up against him, as I'm not much of a fighter."

Bob winced as his Divine Blessing kicked in.

Yorrick made a face. "Ok, so I'm actually a pretty good fighter, but still, the collateral damage of a dust up between us would be devastating, and honestly, Kellan's pretty easy to get along with as long as you keep in mind that he's a dragon and that he's constantly fighting his draconic urges."

"So you're on par with the King of Greenwold," Dave mused.

"That I am," Yorrick agreed, "I'd say I'm about the third most powerful person in the Empire. I'd say I don't like to brag, but I kind of do," he finished with a grin.

"This is verging dangerously into the realm of interdimensional politics," Bob warned them. "You know the rules, no politics on vacation."

"Well," Yorrick began, "I've read through the players handbook, and I've got, surprise surprise, a Warlock rolled up and ready to go." He lowered his voice and faux whispered, "They really did a great job with that, considering they didn't have much to go off of."

"Why would you want to play a Warlock, when you already are one?" Amanda asked curiously.

"Well, this is more than a bit different, and in the end, I like me. I'm pretty awesome," Yorick said proudly.

Bob shook his head. "Seriously, why are you here? You must have better things to do with your time?"

Yorrick returned the head shake sadly. "I'm sitting at the tier cap for tier nine," he explained, "and have been for the past five years. I can't tier up again until I have someone ready to take my seat, and even then I wouldn't be able to do so when a Tide is so close."

Bob blinked. "You're level eighty-one?" He asked.

"I am," Yorrick confirmed.

"Isn't that information supposed to be private?" Jessica asked.

Yorrick snorted derisively. "I'm the High Seat of the Warlocks Guild. It's in everyone's best interest that my tier and level are publically known. I know you don't want to talk about politics, but in the Empire, there are requirements for holding certain positions or titles. You have meet those requirements before you'll even have the chance to demonstrate your competence."

"What are the requirements for being the High Seat of the Warlocks Guild?" Bailli asked.

"Tier nine, level sixty-four, double affinity for Abjuration," Yorrick replied immediately.

"Why Abjuration?" Jessica asked.

Yorrick smiled, apparently enjoying the question and answer session. "The High Seat is responsible raising the ward over Karce during a wave or tide," Yorrick explained. "It's both the capitol and the largest of the Empire's cities, and requires the most power to shield. With a double affinity, perfectly enchanted gear, and the correct attribute allocation, a tier nine at level sixty-four can just barely raise the ward, although it won't be as strong as it could be. We've learned over the millennia to make sure we have someone at the peak of tier nine when a strong tide is coming."

"How can you tell how strong a tide is going to be?" Bob asked.

"This," Yorrick grumbled, "this is why we don't like the Church of the Light. You can tell how strong a Tide will be because Tides are caused by planetary alignments, and the greater the number of planets aligning, the worse the tide will be. Lunar alignments are the cause of the waves, in case you didn't know."

Bob looked at Erick who shrugged.

"No one ever explained it to me," Erick said defensively.

"If they even knew," Bailli defended her fiance. "Given how tightly the Church likes to hold onto information, I wouldn't be surprised if only the upper echelons knew."

"They really aren't that bad," Erick protested, only for Bailli to glare at him.

"I sent you a letter a month, which I know were delivered to the Church, and you received not one of them," Bailli growled. "I don't care about their excuses, they could have given them to you when you left to come back home at least. They passed on Thidwell's letter to you."

Erick nodded and muttered something Bob couldn't quite hear about the Church minimizing distractions.

"That's a perfect example," Yorrick nodded in satisfaction. "I'm not trying to recruit, I just think everyone should be aware of what is really going on around them, but we've gotten a bit off topic. The reasons I'm visiting Earth are myriad, but my personal motivation is boredom. I'm seven hundred and twenty-nine years old, and stars and stones, I'm bored to death. There isn't anything new on Thayland, just the same petty politics, decade after decade, wave after wave, tide after tide. Earth is genuinely new, and exciting. There are enough books here to entertain me for the rest of my life," Yorrick finished with a grin.

"So you're just here on vacation?" Bob asked dryly.

"Well, that and to investigate the incredible wealth of knowledge this world holds, and determine which parts will benefit the Empire," Yorrick admitted. "From what I understand I have a year to so before mana awakens on your world, so I have time for that. You're on vacation with a mixed group of both Thayland natives, and Earthers who are accustomed to Thayland, which is the perfect opportunity for me to observe and interact with Earthers without having to worry about someone panicking when they release I'm not a local."

Bob shook his head again. "What would you do if I told you that you were intruding on a private outing, and we'd prefer you left?"

"Well," Yorrick began, "first of all, I'd be terribly hurt. Then I'd have to go make a nuisance of my self somewhere, probably the Vatican, where I could preach the gospel of the seven Gods of Darkness. I have enough mana crystals on me to perform 'Miracles' day in and day out for a few weeks until I have to head back to handle the Tide."

Bob winced. Yorrick was intelligent, charismatic, and friendly. A televised incident with Yorrick healing the sick and lame outside the Vatican while debating the precepts of the Catholic Church would not end well. For the Church that is.

Bob was not religious, and while he'd found several gods on Thayland, he'd managed to mostly avoid any entanglements, save for Huron's request that the accept a divine blessing of Veritas, which in retrospect, was rather ironically devious. That said, the Catholics on Earth did not need a crisis of faith right now.

"In that case, welcome to the party," Bob finally replied.

Kellan grinned as he surveyed the land far beneath his wings.

The people of Earth, the regular people that was, not their politicians, were delightfully constructive. Square, mostly unadorned buildings rose from previously unspoiled land like monsters in a wave. Some nations needed only a single small valley, while the Indian and Chinese had required dozens.

He snorted, recalling the brazen request, cast in benign bureaucratic terms, to classify these areas as 'embassies.' As if he would ever cede his sovereignty over his land.

No, the politicians of Earth were a delight to engage wits against, but were worse than useless when the time came for action. It wasn't that they simply failed to act out of indecision, that would have been bad enough, instead they actively fought against taking any action at all.

Luckily, his show of force had cowed them, allowing the people beneath them to act. It was a common theme in every government. If you peeled away the useless dross, the petty bureaucrats, you would find dedicated people, very quietly working as hard as possible, often fighting the system they were a part of, to keep things moving.

Those people needed to protected and nutured, but the sheer number of people that comprised the governments of Earth made that task difficult.

His keen eyes spotted a group of people gathered around a bonfire. More people than there ought to have been at this time of day. Dropping down, he hovered above them, invisible to their manaless eyes, and listened.

He was able to easily identify the problem. These people came from Papau New Guinea, specifically the lowlands which were hot and humid. Despite the requests of the two men who had been rushed through a rapid leveling program to become curators, they'd arrived in their every day clothing, which was ill-suited for the cool summers, and near freezing nights of greenwold.

Kellan wasn't entirely surprised to see this, as he'd encountered it twice before, although those equatorial countries had been part of the African continent. From what he understood of Earth's incredibly complicated and occasionally contradictory geopolitical landscape, these people should have been sheltered and prepared by their neighbors and political allies, Australia.

Regardless, they weren't able to accomplish much if they had to constantly warm themselves by the fire.

Flying back up, he dropped and his invisibility and slowly descended. He'd learned not to suddenly appear around the people from Earth in his true form, as they tended to panic.

"I am Kellan Gavardes, Soveriegn of the Skies, Blessed of Vi'Radia, King of Greenwold," he bellowed, drawing their attention as they huddled together. "I have come to inspect your progress, but you appear ill-prepared to thrive on Greenwold."

Kellan landed a hundred or so feet away from them, then employed a burst of light as he assumed his human form. He'd found that theatrics went a long way.

"You've no doubt noticed that my land is much colder than your own," Kellan smiled good-naturedly. He deliberately cultivated an affable persona when in his human form, while allowing his true majesty and power to manifest only when he resumed his true form. This was a long standing practice, and it worked to ensure that when he needed instant obedience, his true form would ensure it, while his human form would be approachable enough that no one would hide a problem or issue due to fear.

The men nodded hesitantly, and Kellan shook his head. "There will always be shelter beneath my wings," he intoned, then completed the ritual he'd begun when he'd identified their plight. Warm clothing, from thick socks, to heavy woolen shirts and pants, to thick jackets and sturdy boots appeared in front of him in a depression in the ground that hadn't been there before.

He'd transmuted the dirt and stone into what he'd needed.

"Please, take these," Kellan urged them. "You'll accomplish much more for your country if you aren't having warm yourselves by the fire every few minutes."

With that, Kellan employed another burst of light and resumed his true form, leaping into the air and beating his wings as he soared back into the sky.

His thoughts turned to the Karcerian Empire. Yorrick's appearance hadn't been entirely unexpected. His position, on the other hand, was quite different than what he'd been prepared for. Kellan had expected the Empire to flex their overwhelming might, and steal the entire operation out from under him.

In retrospect, he hadn't given the Empire enough credit. Most of his dealings had been with the Church, and the antagonistic nature of the diametrically opposed belief systems had ensured that those interactions were barely civil.

The Emperor, the Warlocks Guild, and the Crimson Bulwark hadn't had any part in deporting worshippers of the Light, nor had he ever apprehended any of their spies. Their tone was much more reasonable, and he was afraid it would be much effective when dealing with Earth.

Yorrick had been charming, and given his position, he likely had the wits and wherewithal to confound and convince Earth's politicians, swaying them toward the Empire.

Ultimately, Kellan understood the Empire's concerns. He was one of the few in Greenwold who knew the truth, that the worshippers of the Dark Gods had been cast off the planet Perceus, and settled on Thayland. He knew that his nation represented a return of a small portion of that population to the Gods of Light, and he further knew that the despite the zealotry and vindictiveness of the Church of Darkness, that the Empire had dealt with them fairly.

Yorrick's reasonable request that they go home after it was safe, and that they not imbalance the population of Thayland toward the Gods of Light, was not unreasonable. Not to Kellan at anyrate. Even Huron, who was normally even tempered and reasonable, became a triffle difficult when it came to those who worshipped the Gods of Darkness.

It was a rather thorny puzzle, and one he needed to devote some more time to considering.