Disclaimer at start of First Chapter but again I do NOT own the right to Overlord and its respective content.
Well, we did it. The rewrite has officially finished on the last chapter, and this is the final chapter to be all caught up to the crossposted version on AO3. I'll be crossposting the chapters at the same time from now on to both AO3 and here from the 8th of January onwards. I'll have the date of the next scheduled chapter at the bottom of each new chapter (likely a week between each unless difficulties arise).
To mbarbiba: THAT... would be goddamn terrifying. I love it. Maybe we'll see as the story progresses, who knows? Either way, I think we can all agree the New World is in for a rude awakening very soon. Magic? Pahh. All we need here is Vodka and AK.
Suggested age rating: T
- Some language
Chapter 12: Foundations (Part 2)
Hans stared at the mounting piles of precious ores, minerals, gemstones, jewellery, crockery, armour and other miscellaneous metals. So far he had organised and catalogued everything into groups, i.e. the type of items, whether they be loose jewellery or armour. From there, he had further organised everything into the type of metal used for each. The most common were iron alloys and gold, though some copper and brass was present.
With the help of the mercenaries, he had liberated said materials from the residents relatively quickly and with ease. Though, a few had been quick to put up an initial protest, or even dare try to resist and fight back. That was short-lived due to the mercenaries, and the presence of the nearby hounds further subdued the residents into compliance.
By now, everyone had been gathered and, between Maxmillian and Trisha, corralled and designated into assigned duties. They, his creator, Maxmillian and himself that is, were still finalising assigned duties for the residents, and that would still take a couple hours at least, and possibly even the remainder of the day for everyone to come to terms, but it was, regardless inevitable. His Creator's will was inevitable, and indomitable. They would either comply, or they would die.
He turned to a nearby mercenary that was accompanying him.
"Is this everything?"
"Y-yes it is."
The mercenary was no older than a late teenager, a mere boy in his eyes. It showed in his mannerisms and actions. Whatever bravado he might have once possessed was long since gone after the massacre and take-over by his illustrious creator.
"You're sure? I'd hate to find out we are missing something when you had the chance to confirm. Because if so, I will hold you personally responsible." He didn't even need to sound angry or cruel. Just by speaking in a dispassionate tone with emotional indifference was enough to make the poor kid almost quake.
"A-absolutely, though I can personally go double check everything i-if you still need me to prove myself."
Hans merely tilted his head.
"I don't need you to prove anything. I need everything accounted for, and assurances that it is. If you feel that uncertain, then perhaps it is warranted and you should go check. Be quick about it, though. I don't have the patience to wait around all day, and neither does our Master. Now go," he snapped rather than dismissed.
"R-right away." And with that, the young mercenary all but practically ran out the door, almost running over Alizia as she entered the door.
He mentally sighed. Absolutely useless waste of oxygen. If I had known he was that useless, I'd of had him shot to begin with. Alas, he lacked a gun currently, and the Supreme One still needed the mercenaries alive. For now, anyways.
"The remaining residents have been gathered and the demi-human woman is overseeing them. What now?"
Hans slowed turned to face her, sizing her up before he finally addressed her.
"All of the remaining mercenaries have signed the contract, Trisha is learning her new role, and all of the residents have been gathered. All that is needed is to ensure that the items our Master requires are presented."
"So, if that is all…" she trailed off.
"No," replied Hans, his soft-spoken mannerisms unnerving her. "Now that those tasks are done, I want you to provide me a detailed list concerning all of your mercenaries. All of their attributes, skills, strengths, weaknesses. I also want birth details, work history and experience, and recommendations on who are the most effective, and who are the most redundant. I want it by midnight at the latest. Tardiness will not be accepted."
"O-of course. I understand." She bowed, before leaving the mansion.
Do all of these mercenaries have a stuttering problem?
Sygil stared at his two prisoners locked in separate cages before him. Beovhan was clenching and unclenching his remaining knuckle, whilst Clair was too distressed to even grace his presence with even the briefest of glances.
Sygil glanced at Maxmillian.
"Maxmillian, could you do me a small favour and get our dear friends attention?"
"Of course sir."
He wasted no time, drawing his sabre before slamming the flat of the blade against Clair's cage with considerable force.
The cage rattled, and Clair let loose a small scream amidst her down-pouring of tears, before furtively glancing up between Maxmillian and Sygil. Beovhan snapped his head in Sygil's with such speed he was almost amazed the man didn't break his own neck.
It didn't take long for Beovhan's features to morph into absolute fury.
"You…." He snarled. "You sick, twisted, fucking aborted slime of an afterbirth…."
Now that's a new one, mused Sygil before he interjected.
"I feel you should reserve that title for yourself and your wife."
"I hope you die a horrible fucking death."
Sygil squatted down, quirking an eyebrow.
"Death has a hard time catching up to me. As for your wife and child, though? Well, let's just say my patience is very limited right now, and I have entertained your antics long enough. Give me any more problems and the only abortion around here will be from your wife as I disembowel her, are we clear?"
Beovhan trembled with anger, but after a few seconds, he finally appeared to accept the reality of his situation, and with a defeated slump of his shoulders, he at last relented.
"What do you want? There's nothing left to take from us of any value."
"On the contrary, actually."
Clair looked at him, her eyes red as she clutched her stomach even more tightly.
"Your account records." Began Sygil.
Beovhan looked at him in slight confusion.
"What about them? You already have access to them?"
Sygil rolled his eyes.
"I know I do. What I want to know is the fact that you are making payments upwards of 40,000 gold, undisclosed might I add. No declaration of tax, no record of what the payments are for or why, and only that you keep subtracting that amount every six months."
Sygil leaned forward.
"What I want to know is to whom, and why."
"It's… complicated."
Sygil merely raised an eyebrow at Beovhan non-plussed, before nodding to Maxmillian.
Maxmillian pulled back his sabre and aimed it at Clair, before Beovhan suddenly realised what was going to happen.
"W-wait! A-a man named Marcus Deuobr'e!"
Maxmillian halted his blade, while Sygil gestured for him to continue.
"Go on."
"H-he comes to collect payment every six months as well as any slaves we get!"
"So why are you paying him to take your slaves? That seems a little counter-intuitive if you ask me?"
"The money's not for the slaves. We don't even make any profits from giving him the slaves."
Sygil felt himself scoff incredulously.
"Then why the fuck are you even giving him slaves if you're not even getting something in return?! For a supposed investor, you sound like you have set yourselves up a real dumb fucking deal."
"I thought you detested slavery?" Shot Beovhan.
"Oh I do," confirmed Sygil. "But even I can appreciate the business intricacies involved in trafficking anything, even if it is people. Which is why I'm astounded at how bad of a deal you have got."
Sygil through his hands in the air as he stood up, at a loss for words at the idiotic deal he was hearing.
"Because it's not a business deal," moaned Clair amidst hitched breaths and tears.
Sygil glanced at her before addressing Beovhan.
"Can you explain what she means?"
"We owe Marcus Deuobr'e a debt after we made a mistake. In order to keep our life running safely, we had to begin making payments to amend what we did, and the slaves we sold to him had to be gifted freely instead as compensation," explained Beovhan miserably, head hung low.
"What sort of a mistake did you make to get into that sort of position?"
"We put a hit out on one of our competitors in the farming business, who just happened to be related to a prominent drug-dealer," sobbed Clair.
"We didn't know until after he was nearly assassinated, a-and then Marcus and some thugs came to us one night." Sygil didn't know if she was crying over the memories or the previous trauma he had inflicted. He didn't really care either way.
"So," exhaled Sygil in exasperation. "You essentially put the hit out on someone related to a mob boss, and Marcus made you a deal to preserve your life, and now you are in a semi-fucked position, while still treading on thin ice. That sum it up?"
Beovhan pursed his lips whilst nodding slowly in defeat.
"Great," frowned Sygil as he ran a gloved hand through his hair.
This is just what I need.
"Care to explain who it was you exactly pissed off?"
Beovhan replied tersely. "We don't know."
"Really? You just said it was a notorious drug-dealer, and yet you don't know who? I find that hard to believe."
"We. Don't. Know!" Beovhan's voice hardened with each word.
"All I know is that you're fucked now that you've stolen our property and assets. They'll come for you instead, and there's nothing you can do against them. And I'll enjoy watching them kill you slowly!" Beovhan was beginning to sport a satisfied small smirk.
"You have no idea who it is you're messing with."
"And frankly," retorted Sygil. "I could care less. If they get in my way, they'll die. Simple as that."
"Sir!"
Sygil craned his neck to look behind him.
Hans was walking up to him with a piece of parchment and a quill.
"What is it?"
"I have finished gathering and cataloguing all of the materials you requested. I have listed everything here for you, sir." He handed him the parchment, which he accepted.
After quickly skimming over everything, he glanced up to Hans.
"Will this be sufficient?"
"Based on what we know, it should be sufficient to create a basic automaton, roughly Level 25. Afterwards, it should be able to level up as it accomplishes tasks, or if you grant it XP, sir."
Sygil slowly nodded his head in affirmation, a small smile creeping onto his features.
"Good."
He passed the parchment back to Hans, who accepted it, rolling it up and tucking it in a pocket inside his uniform.
"How long should it take to create one?"
"I hypothesise a couple hours at most, depending on the level of detail and customisation you provide it, sir."
Sygil shot a brief glance at Clair behind him as he quietly hummed to himself.
"Hmmmm. That sounds reasonable. Maxmillian."
"Yes sir?"
"Get a couple of the mercenaries to take these two," he pointed with a thumb over his shoulder, "out to the back yard of the mansion. Keep them in their cages."
Maxmillian nodded his head sharply.
"Right away sir."
Sygil briefly watched as he wasted no time in quickly fetching several mercenaries, barking orders harshly at them to move the two prisoners and their cages.
After several minutes, accompanied by indignant insults from the two captives, the whole caged setup was finally moved out to the back garden, escorted by Maxmillian who supervised.
Sygil felt himself suddenly chuckle. Hans glanced at him curiously.
"Perhaps Trisha will use them as an example for the residents."
"Won't she just kill them to make a point though, sir?"
"She won't. She knows I need them alive. How long their usefulness lasts depends though."
"Indeed sir…"
After a momentary pause, Sygil finally sighed, outstretching and interlocking his hands with a stretch.
"Well. I suppose we better get this automaton – "
Muffled hooves, panicked voices and the faint sound of wooden wheels on stone interrupted him.
Hans and him exchanged a curious glance.
The noise was getting louder and louder, a sign of it getting closer.
"What the…?"
Suddenly, at the far end of the street beyond the central water fountain, a wooden cart pulled by two horses came speeding around the corner.
The horses were galloping straight towards the mansion, and not showing any sign of slowing down.
Finally, as they reached the fountain, the rider reigned his horses in as they swerved around it. The horses eventually slowed down to a complete stop immediately before Sygil and Hans, just several metres shy of the mansion and front gardens itself.
The cart was covered by a high-reaching cover, likely canvas or some other material. Wooden supports could be seen pressing on the tarp from the inside.
Sygil couldn't help but muse. Almost like one of the old western caravans from centuries ago.
As the two horses loudly panted for breath, finally enjoying some respite, the driver could be seen hopping down from his seat.
A leather coat adorned a wiry looking man who appeared in his early forties. A small, pointed, blonde beard protruded from his chin and wrapped around to his ears, though he lacked an accompanying moustache.
The man's face was sharp as a knife, with a hooked nose to accompany. A loose mop of blonde hair rested atop his head, while sharp beady eyes covered by half-rimmed glasses scrutinised himself and Hans.
The man strode towards the two of them, peeling off his brown leather gloves while looking at them disinterestedly.
"Where is Beovhan?" The man all but practically demanded.
Sygil shot an eyebrow up as he glanced at Hans, before addressing the approaching stranger.
"Beovhan is currently indisposed right now."
"And who, pray tell, are you?" The man had his nose upturned at them, and his overall demeanour wasn't doing much to persuade Sygil of a less than snobbish persona.
"I believe I should be asking you that," began Sygil, catching several puffed mercenaries running up behind the coach.
"Considering, after all, that you are the one that barged onto my property unannounced." By now the mercenaries had caught up.
"Something I will be sure to discuss with my mercenaries about." The three mercenaries felt themselves wither under his stare.
"Your property?" Balked the stranger incredulously.
"Yes. My property."
"Hmmpf, yes well," the man pulled his glasses off to polish with a handkerchief that he somehow produced, wiping them disinterestedly.
"My name is Reginold. Reginold Ohio."
The name clicked with Sygil's memory.
"Ah, I believe Beovhan mentioned your name. You're a wandering trader, correct?"
That perked his attention, as he shot his eyes upwards mid-wipe.
"He did? How do you know him?"
"Simple. He sold the property to me."
"Really? He didn't strike me as wanting to sell this any time too soon."
Sygil merely shrugged.
"He had some financial problems that needed taking care of."
Reginold delicately put his glasses back on.
"Well, if he's not here, then I guess I wasted my time coming here. Still, it's such a long journey," he lamented.
"Well, it's not entirely a waste," started Sygil, adopting a warming smile.
"I heard you sell rather interesting items, and I would be interested in seeing your stock if you have anything interesting. You can stay here for a couple nights if you need to before you leave."
Reginold wasn't the only one that was surprised, but Hans did a better job hiding it.
"Really? Oh, well, erm, that's generous of you. Perhaps I can stay, but I'm not sure if you can afford the items I have though…" he tailed off uncertainly.
"Nonsense. If I can afford this property, I think I can afford whatever it is you are selling." Sygil did his best to appear disarming.
Reginold, however, only smirked in response. "We'll see…"
"500 gold for this?!"
Sygil and Hans were currently gathered around Reginold's caravan, which had been opened up to display several items. Maxmillian, meanwhile, was disciplining the three mercenaries that had allowed Reginold to breach past them.
"I told you, I'm not cheap," replied the trader with a smug smile.
"For a map…"deadpanned Sygil.
"Not just any map." Reginold raised a lecturing finger.
"A highly detailed map. Hand crafted by the legendary adventurer – "
"I could care less," interrupted Sygil.
"Hmmpf. Suit yourself."
Hans, meanwhile, was examining all of the herbs, plants and apothecary bottles displayed.
Sygil slowly strode over.
"Anything useful?"
"Several of the materials you requested prior in Yggdrasil are here. While not all of it is present, there is enough to start creating the basic starting processes for some remedies, sir."
Sygil placed a hand on his chin thoughtfully.
"Hmmm. That is good. What have we got so far?"
"Alarosaceia, Tervinhub, Roots of Jaklan, Rose of Thoryn, Ginger root, Beckhart leaves. Then there's the apothecary items."
"And they're all efficacious?"
"Theoretically, yes. Sir."
Sygil glanced at Reginold.
"How much for your whole stock of herbs, plants and apothecary?"
Reginold couldn't but stutter in shock.
"I-I beg your pardon?!" The man's eyes looked as if they wanted to burst from their sockets.
"How much," reiterated Sygil a little more harshly.
"For all of it… about 20,000 gold."
Holy fuck, this man is insane?!
"20,000?" Sygil frowned sceptically.
"20,000," confirmed Reginold smugly.
"For only a couple plants and jarred liquids?"
Reginold scoffed in annoyance.
"These aren't just any mere plants or "jarred liquids"," he used air quotes to further emphasise his point.
"These are incredibly rare herbs and plants, cultivated under extreme conditions by professional mages and researchers. They are incredibly rare and difficult to acquire, and their properties make them double in terms of price."
"Really? And do you know who happens to culture them and where I could find them?"
"Pffft, hahaha!" Reginold almost doubled over, clutching his stomach whilst Hans shot him a withering glare that went promptly ignored.
"I can't give away my suppliers like that! Besides," his laughter started to fade. "Even if I wanted to, they are very reclusive people, in an even more reclusive and remote location. I normally collect them via a middleman. They're extremely paranoid folk."
Sygil let his gaze wander amongst the products.
"I see. And where do you meet this middleman, exactly?"
"Depends," shrugged Reginold.
"Usually we meet at the capital when I restock on materials."
Sygil nodded his head slowly.
"So what about the apothecary supplies you have?"
"Well, I get them from various reputable suppliers and pharmacists. They sell to me for a pretty good deal so I can sell them slightly more cheaper. If only that old hag Lizzie would bother to though," he grumbled the last part sourly under his breath.
"Still," began Sygil, picking up a glass bottle containing a blue liquid inside it. "200 gold for this? What is it even?"
Reginold looked slightly miffed.
"That is a healing potion. And not just any kind either. It's made using a special recipe by mages from the Slane Theocracy. It is said to have been passed down from their Holy Scriptures and even their founding gods themselves, though the original recipe was lost to time. This is one of the most superior Healing Potions on all of these lands. So, of course, you can appreciate its price and the effort I had to go through to acquire it."
Hans interjected with an unimpressed look on his face.
"I was under the impression that healing potions were red? This looks fraudulent and absolutely vile."
If looks could kill, Reginold would have tried.
"Excuse me?! I sell nothing but high quality products, assured by highly experienced manufacturers and traders. I sell only the best! Besides, what exactly would you know about a Healing Potion anyways?"
Hans shot him an inquisitive look, but Sygil was quick to respond.
"If it is as good as you say it is, then I'll consider taking it. However, I too also have my doubts about its authenticity."
He still remembered the Healing Potion he had consumed inside Yggdrasil was red.
"Look, if you're not going to buy it, then I'm not going to bother staying around."
"Do you happen to sell any other items that are not on your person currently?"
"Well, of course," Reginold rolled his eyes.
"Every trade has different items. Seeing as you appear interested in the apothecary and herbal items, if you buy anything from them, then I will come back with several different herbs and items for you to browse. I do like to keep my business floating after all."
"How long would that take?" Inquired Sygil. Considering the range of items that Reginold was selling, and their medical potential, if he could procure more items, particularly the herbs to cultivate, then his chances of resolving his Holy Infection would drastically improve.
Especially considering how stagnant progress was in the real world and even Yggdrasil. Though upon looking at Hans, he couldn't help but reconsider.
Still, it has provided me the necessary information, and two loyal subordinates….
"About two months," suggested Reginold.
"I have to finish my route and then head back to the Royal Capital to stock up on supplies. I can make sure to stock up on some extra goods if you will purchase them."
Sygil flashed a quick smile to Reginold before he turned to address Hans who was standing patiently..
"Sound's good. Hans. Is everything else here up to standard and of potential use?"
"It's a starting point, sir," affirmed the NPC cautiously.
Sygil clapped his hands enthusiastically.
"Excellent. Go fetch 20,000 gold for our guest. I'll start unloading all of his herbs and apothecary goods."
Hans merely bowed, before wheeling around to fetch the gold required.
"Of course sir." And with that, he was gone, leaving Sygil and the travelling merchant alone.
Reginold peered after Hans as Sygil began to offload the herbs onto a pile on the ground.
"Rather strange fellow, isn't he?"
"He's my subordinate. Nothing strange about it," dismissed Sygil.
"Yes…" frowned the trader suspiciously.
"So, where are Beovhan and Clair anyways?"
"They are currently away. They sold the place and left. Where they have gone, I don't know."
Reginold, however, pursed his lips as he genuflected, steepling his hands together.
"That's strange. Did they happen to say why they were leaving?"
Sygil glanced at him.
"Not really. Only that they had some financial difficulties they needed to resolve."
"Hmm. Curious…" muttered the man.
"Curious," confirmed Sygil.
It didn't take long for Hans to return with the gold, carried by several mercenaries in three large chests, who were more than eager to place the heavy chests on the ground.
"20,000 gold as requested," supplied Hans indifferently.
Reginold's eyes seemed to gleam as he took in the sight before him.
"A pleasure doing business," thanked Reginold, greed plastered across his face.
Sygil ignored him however, favouring addressing the mercenaries and Hans.
"Help him load the gold onto his cart. Hans, help me take these items inside. We can look at them later. I want to create the automaton first."
"Right away sir!"
"Wait," called Reginold.
Sygil and Hans glanced over at him in confusion.
"Where am I going to be staying?"
Sygil just waved him off.
"I'll have Alizia come and show you to your quarters for the night. Just don't go wandering anywhere."
Whether he acknowledged what he was told was debatable. The man was too engrossed in the sheer quantity of gold he had just made, grinning gleefully.
Sygil merely shook his head, and with a roll of his eyes, he proceeded to enter the mansion, Hans at his side.
"Are you sure it's wise to let him go sir?"
"His interest is only money. Besides, I'll have him watched by some of the mercenaries. If he shows any signs of becoming problematic during his short stay, then we'll kill him. However, for now, he is a potential investment."
Sygil cracked a small smile as potential plans and ideas raced through his head.
Hans, however, didn't appear to share the same optimism.
"At the expense of 20,000 gold, sir? Forgive me for saying so, sir, but that is a ludicrous amount to be paying off for what we have received."
"Hans," chuckled Sygil. "In order to make money, you have to spend money. 20 grand is hardly a dent on our finances. Besides, he will be motivated to return with new items to make what appears to be easy money. Besides, I do need those items rather immediately."
"Then why not just take them from him by force, sir?"
Sygil pinched the bridge of his nose as he opened the mansion door.
You sound just like Maxmillian.
"Because," sighed Sygil, "if he is alive, he can bring more traders here with potentially valuable items. Not to mention the previous points I just mentioned."
Hans shut the door behind them, and Sygil nearly did a double-take at the sheer quantity of materials piled across the floor throughout the rooms.
"Well," he started once he got over his initial shock.
"That is a lot of metal…."
"There's more in the other rooms sir," supplied Hans.
"Oh I'm sure," frowned Sygil.
"Go fetch Alizia. Have her escort Reginold to his quarters and watch over him. Once you're done, return here. I'm going to fetch Maxmillian. Then we can get started on the automaton."
"At once," bowed Hans, before he exited the mansion to carry out his new duties.
When Hans returned, Maxmillian and Sygil were standing near the base of the stairs, idly chatting and overlooking the assortment of metals deposited.
Sygil noticed Hans enter, and called ovially.
"Ah, you're back Hans."
"Of course, sir. My services are required here, sir."
"Indeed," nodded Sygil.
He was idly fidgeting with the Ring of Creation with his left thumb and index finger. He had several ideas for how he envisioned his automaton, but ultimately the capabilities and limitations of the ring would be the determining factor.
"Now," began Sygil.
"I want the best quality metals. The higher quality the starting materials, the higher the quality, levelling and durability of the automaton, correct?" He glanced at both of his subordinates for input.
"That should be correct sir," nodded Maxmillian, with Hans nodding in affirmation.
"Well then," smirked Sygil as he adorned the ring.
"Let's get this show started then, shall we?" And with a flourish of his ring hand, he activated the ring.
Upon activation, a small, orange, translucent holographic control panel materialised directly before Sygil, though he suspected it was only visible to him judging from the lack of reactions from his two NPCs.
Then again, they don't react to anything noticeably. Well, except anything assumed hostile, apparently.
So, I want to create an automaton. How would I go about that?
After a quick search around, he realised the process was nearly identical to when he created Maxmillian and Hans, with a couple exceptions. Namely, there were no texts for him to digitally import.
So. Racial class. Automaton. Shape and physical features? Humanoid.
Now came the hard part. He wanted his automaton to be practically designed, so he wasn't overly concerned about aesthetics. The problem was, it would cost mana levels, which only he could supply. And he didn't have too many, even from those ported over from Yggdrasil when he arrived here.
There was also the matter of the metal quality. It was, frankly, of inferior quality. Sure, it would be able to offer incredible protection by human standards, but in terms of contributing to his NPCs levels, it was absolutely atrocious. Though, his subordinates did confirm that over time, the automaton should be able to level up, and as a result, the quality of the materials used would improve, and could even be further modified by himself or the NPC itself. That was somewhat reassuring.
"Now," mused Sygil aloud. "I need to essentially create all of the tools and gear needed as part of the automaton."
First, he needed an energy source to power the automaton; a core per se. That would cost several levels, especially since he lacked all of the necessary physical components such as a fuel source, wiring, insulators, etc.
Next, he needed to have it encased inside the main body and be thermostatically regulated so as to not overheat the NPC itself, nor interfere with the rest of its functions. That cost more mana.
Now, he lacked enough levels to make the automaton look human at all, so by the time he would be finished it would look like a literal robot. Not that he overly cared.
In terms of in-built tools, he needed an in-built welder, well-articulated hands electronically and mechanically stabilised to produce precision tools and work, and he needed a mana injector to strengthen his NPCs capabilities. After all, the tensile strength of all of the metals present would be significantly weaker when subject to mining hard rock, ores and more. The mana would essentially make the copper and iron digits and in-built tools the equivalent of titanium coated, and improve overall durability to last even longer.
Of course, that came at the cost of depleting half of his available mana. Still, now his automaton would be capable of mining, construction and precision work.
In terms of an internalised processing core, or sentience, he needed to invest half of his remaining mana into an internalised computer inside the NPC's head, an artificial 'brain' so to speak. This would allow his NPC to communicate, run complex mathematical models and equations, process data and information and deduce a logical outcome, as well as communicate successfully with anyone.
However, he was left with only a handful of mana points and XP left, barely enough to allow language processing and different visual filters for vision and scanning. This included simple infrared, night-vision, very limited X-ray vision and regular broad-spectrum colour akin to human vision.
By now, he had expended all of his available mana and XP points. All that was left was to finalise the basic design.
After some back and forth between Maxmillian and Hans to select suitable materials present on the floor that were practical and affordable to add to the NPC, he was finally ready to save his creation. All he needed to do at this point was name it.
"So," breathed Sygil after several hours. "What should we name him?"
Hans had a thoughtful fist to his chin, while Maxmillian simply deflected the question back to Sygil.
"It is your creation, sir. Only you could be capable of granting it a worthy name, sir!"
Sygil couldn't help but internally sigh. Well that's not much help.
"Well, perhaps…" trailed off Hans, especially under the look Maxmillian shot him.
"No, do continue," waved Sygil.
"Well, it is a computer, technically, sir. So… how about Quantum?"
His creator stared at him for a couple seconds, a pregnant pause filling the air. For a moment, he wondered if he was foolish to suggest such a name, but then…
"Quantum," repeated Sygil thoughtfully. "Quantum-47, Q-47 or Forty-Seven for short. I like it."
Hans felt himself internally rejoice at his creators approval.
"Well then," began Sygil as he input the name into the creation menu.
"Time to see if you work and effort wasn't a waste." And with that, he pressed save. The screen disappeared… and nothing happened.
They stood there for a second until Sygil spoke up in frustration.
"Well, where is he?"
"Um," coughed Maxmillian, catching both their attention. "I believe you have to activate the ring first, sir," he offered in a small voice.
Sygil's eyebrow's shot up as he pursed his lips in embarrassment. "Right," he nodded, quickly flourishing his ring hand.
This time he was rewarded for his efforts.
"Quantum-47 standing by," called a deep robotic voice. "Awaiting primary directives."
To Sygil's left, the automaton finally materialised. It was exactly as he designed.
Quantum-47 stood at exactly 2-metres in height. He was covered head to toe in solid metal plating which bulked his appearance. There was no perceived frailty or immediately observable weak joints to exploit. All exposed joints were covered in flexible metal tubing, whilst somewhat bulky limbs housed an assortment of tools and equipment in hidden compartments.
He could almost have passed for a bulky human in strange form-fitting armour were it not for his head.
Quantum-47's head comprised of two short metal cylinders for where the eyes would otherwise be, shielded by a short in-built, domed visor that encapsulated the majority of his skull. A small exhaust vent could be seen at the back of his head, whilst a mechanised vocaliser shaped like a hexagonal air vent jutted from where his mouth would normally be. To finish off, a short stubby antenna protruded from where his right ear would be on a human.
The eyes flickered onto a crimson red, contrasting for a rather sinister look in comparison to his stark grey and black body.
The red optics tracked Sygil's movements as he approached. Meanwhile, Hans and Maxmillian were both congratulating him. He paid them no heed however as a satisfied smile crept onto his face.
"So, it works. Can you understand me?"
"Affirmative," droned the mechanised voice. "This unit can understand you fluently."
"Excellent," remarked Sygil, standing straight.
"Give me a list of features. What level are you?"
"Currently, this unit is Level 27 Automaton designed by Grand Creator Sygil Amadeus. I am currently capable of category 2 mining, category 4 production and assembly. Armour statistics make me impervious to weaponry weaker than a .50 calibre round fired under optimal conditions. Further upgrades required to improve self-protection and enhance current Levels to optimum efficiency. In summary, comparatively more efficient than a Level 30 meatbag."
"Meatbag?" What does he mean by meatbag?
"Meatbag. Any organic lifeform, which is therefore inferior due to defective physiological traits which impede the overall effectiveness of any tasks assigned. With the exception of you, Grand Creator, all naturally derived organics are weak and useless."
Sygil felt himself nearly balk.
So Maxmillian hates anything not ethnically a desirable human, Trisha and the freed slaves hate humans, and now Quantum-47 hates organic life. Fuck my life I have an interesting group of followers….
Choosing not to dwell on that for now, he opted to begin outlining his orders.
"Well, I hope you don't hate organics too much, because you are going to be working with a lot of them shortly."
Quantum-47's head hydraulics could be heard quietly whirring as he turned to fixate a more attentive gaze upon Sygil.
"Please elaborate?"
"I want you to take all of the newly designated miners, Hans here," he gestured to him, "will help you. Find a suitable area nearby to begin work on a mining encampment. I want any and all ores, minerals and resources unearthed and refined for later industrial use. You will be in charge of the miners, but note that they are not completely expendable. They are needed alive to work, and any disregard for their overall health and safety will impede my ability to quickly expand."
"Affirmative. This directive computes," nodded the ominous machine.
"However, I will require several automated assistant workers to help optimise task efficiency?"
"That's fine," dismissed Sygil casually. "Help yourself to the materials here that you need to get started. Hans."
"Yes sir?"
"Take him out to the back to meet Trisha and his work-force. Get him up to date on everything. Maxmillian."
"Sir?"
"Make sure Alizia has organised a place of residence for our new guest. And have some of the more competent mercenaries keep him under watch. I don't want him snooping around and causing me a headache."
"Right away sir," nodded Maxmillian.
As Quantum-47 left with Hans, and Maxmillian left to complete his own task, Sygil was left alone with his own thoughts.
The townspeople were currently gathered in the back yard, still being sorted by Trisha. One such resident, Jeremiah, was sitting on the grass struggling to stay awake as the filthy animal in front of him kept talking and making orders.
Honestly, he wished he could go back to bed, but things had suddenly changed literally overnight. Apparently, Beovhan no longer owned the property, town or his business even! Some newcomer did. And worse yet, he made this dumb bitch in charge apparently!
He would have told the guy to sod off, but apparently, according to the mercenaries and some of the townspeople, the guy was some monster that summoned strange beasts straight from hell. Now, he personally didn't believe in that hogwash. Now as far as he was concerned, unless he saw it with his own eyes, everybody was just seeing things. There was no such thing as demons, bah.
At that very second, the back door to the mansion opened behind Trisha, revealing it.
Monstrous red eyes glowed in the dark, while a black humanoid body that did not belong to any man stepped forth.
He could feel his eyes widen, his heart skip a beat as his pulse skyrocketed, and his bowels prepare to empty themselves on their own accord.
"De-de-de. FUCKING DEMON!" He all but screamed in panic as he scrambled to his feet.
He could faintly hear everyone else's murmurs quickly turn to panicked voices and even some screams as they mimicked his actions, but he was too far engrossed in getting the hell away from that monster.
Trisha was quick to turn in confusion to see what was causing the commotion, when she saw it as well. She felt her heart skip a beat and her eyes widened a fraction as she laid eyes on it. Until she saw Hans standing calmly next to it.
The strange being slowly walked into the back garden with Hans beside it, strange whirring sounds accompanying its heavy footfalls.
By now everyone was on their feet preparing to run, until Hans bellowed out.
"Everyone, STOP!"
For a human, he sure had a commanding presence, similar to his master, she would give him that.
Almost everyone seemed to freeze at his voice.
"Did Trisha or myself give the order you could leave?" He shot, unimpressed.
"B-but, there's a demon, standing right next to you!"
Said demon stepped forth, turning its head to address the voice that just spoke.
"I have a name, meatbag. Quantum-47. And you would do well to remember." His voice came off as a mechanised snark.
"I-it talks?!" Another resident was freaking out.
"Yes I talk. I am capable of more intellectual capabilities than all of you meatbags combined." He almost sounded disappointed.
Hans, however, pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he let loose a sigh.
"Ignore them, Forty-Seven. They're nothing but primitive fools anyways. You'll set yourself up for disappointment if you expect otherwise. Ask me how I know."
Trisha finally found her voice, and she offered to the duo.
"I have organised them into their groups as required. I have found the ones most physically suitable for mining."
Quantum-47 snapped his head in her direction, and she could feel her heart spike a little.
"Are you a creation of our Grand Creator, Sygil Amadeus?"
She felt her nose wrinkle slightly at the mention of his name.
"No," she scowled.
"Then I care not for your input, meatbag." With that, he redirected his attention back to the townsfolk who were too petrified to move.
"She's probably one of the more useful ones. Our glorious creator made a deal directly with her for her servitude."
47 glanced back at her, before dryly commenting.
"A wise decision on her behalf. My opinion of you has now slightly elevated. However, you are still a meatbag."
She could feel her blood start to boil indignantly at this things attitude. However, before she could even attempt to say something, it spoke.
"Attention all collective meatbags, big and small. I will be taking charge of 13 physically capable and fit beings of your kind for physical labour."
That seemed to stir several fearful murmurs.
"W-what are you going to do to us?" Came a meek, fearful voice.
"See what I mean," gestured Hans in disappointment. "Absolutely useless. You tell them something, and they completely ignore it."
"Affirmative. Perhaps should I institute re-educative programming into the stupid meatbags?"
"H-hey, we're not dumb!" Called an indignant voice. 47 merely snapped his head to the caller's direction.
"Clarification. Institutive re-education for the meatbags dumber than the stupid ones."
Whatever bravado that one individual in the crowd had quickly withered and died under 47's stare.
Hans quickly interrupted.
"Trisha has already organised them into assigned groups. All you need to do is collect the ones recommended for mining."
"Why should I trust the judgement of this meatbag?"
"Because Lord Sygil has assigned the task of organising them to her as a test of her capabilities."
"Affirmative. I still believe it is foolish, however."
"Do not question our Lord's decisions," shot Hans venomously.
"I do not, and would never, question our Lord's decisions. I am questioning the efficacy of this meatbag's conclusions."
"That is why she is being tested," stated Hans much more calmly this time.
"Understood," replied 47 after several seconds of computation.
Quantum-47, with a whir of internalised motors, turned to address Trisha.
"Greater meatbag, which of the lesser meatbags do you conclude are the most reliable for working in mining?"
Trisha didn't know whether to feel offended at the title of meatbag, or somewhat happier at being perceived as a greater meatbag.
Meanwhile, Hans stood to the side, observing everything with hawkish eyes. The residents were fearful of a lot right now.
So long as they prove their worth, then they shouldn't have anything to fear.
Alizia led Reginold into one of the better rooms inside the inn.
"I must protest. Why do I have to stay in an inn like a filthy commoner? Beovhan always let me stay inside his mansion?"
Alizia felt a sigh escape her lips.
"And like I said earlier, the new owner doesn't want anyone staying inside the mansion."
"This is bloody outrageous!"
"Look, if you want to protest, take it up with him directly. I'm paid to follow his orders, and that's what I'm doing, okay?" She could feel her patience for this codger diminishing. She honestly never liked him to begin with, but now that Beovhan wasn't paying her, she could take some private satisfaction in denying him something.
"And what's with having armed guards outside my door?"
She glanced at the two mercenaries accompanying her, their armour glinting from the candle-light, their wearer's faces stoic. A far cry from last night after witnessing that horror-show.
"They're for your protection," she stated blandly. Honestly, she had better things to do than talk to this idiot.
"Oh, bullshit," he hissed. "You and I both know that's not the truth. I haven't even done anything, and now all of a sudden I'm being treated like some animal. Locked in pathetic inn room with armed guards outside my door."
"It's not like you're being held captive," she rolled her eyes. "You're still allowed to go about freely, it's just you have to be accompanied at all times and can't go inside the mansion."
"And why not, exactly?"
"I – look!" she snapped, catching him off guard. "I don't make the rules around here. All I know is that I have to follow them. If you want to contest it that badly, by all means, talk to him. I'm sure these two lovely gentlemen would love to help you cut into our employer's busy time so you can raise complaints about how unfairly you're being treated."
Reginold didn't fail to notice how the two guards stiffened uncomfortably at that, but Alizia continued.
"But if I were you, I'd just take it as it is and leave it be. For your sake, okay?"
Reginold stared at her strangely.
"What's got you so ansty?"
"Nothing," she exclaimed exasperated, before turning to the two mercenaries.
"Don't let him out of your sight, otherwise I'm going to get in the shits, are we clear?"
"Yeah, you're probably not the only one," muttered one of the mercenaries.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure we'd all like to avoid ending up like Cain, Gregory or Kandis. So don't fuck it up."
The two guards nodded stiffly at Alizias words.
"Good. Now unless something happens, don't call me at all. Hans wants a report by midnight tonight, and if you make me late, I'm taking you down with me, okay?"
"Crystal," nodded on mercenary . Alizia shot a glance at the other mercenary. Satisfied, she turned around on her heel and stormed out of the wooden hallway to head back downstairs and continue her other duties.
"So…" began Reginold, however, he was cut off by one of the mercenaries.
"Look, Mr Ohio, our boss isn't exactly the most forgiving of people, and he doesn't like timewasters."
"Yeah," quickly agreed the other. "We're not kidding when we say for your sake it's best not waste his time."
"Hmpf," snorted Reginold. "He seemed quite amicable to me earlier? What's the big deal?"
"Look, you should just be grateful he even bothered to buy your items and give you a free lodging at all."
"Well of course he would! I'm a high quality merchant! I sell high quality and exclusive items. Which is why he should grant me a better room rather than this rundown piece of shit!" He gestured to the cracks one the ceiling, the peeling paint on the walls, and the odd questionable stain throughout the floor. Even the bed looked more like a stone slab covered in a single white sheet that hadn't been changed in years.
"So, I want you to go fetch him for me, or even better, take me directly back to him," he demanded, his beady eyes crossed indignantly.
"Yeah," drawled one mercenary. "Fat fucking chance of that happening."
"Excuse me?!"
"Look, sir," the second mercenary, much younger than the first, tried to explain whilst avoiding the withering glare of Reginold.
"Our boss, he, uh, is not someone you want to piss off, okay?"
"What exactly do you mean?" snarked the older merchant.
"Look," he whispered conspiratorially, glancing furtively around. "He's really bad news. He could have easily killed you and robbed you, but he didn't. So, maybe it's best to just stay inside here?"
The older mercenary roughly grabbed his compatriot and leaned down to him, growling in his face.
"Will you keep it fucking down?! For all you know, one of those damned things could be spying on us! You trying to get us both killed?!" He shot a glare up at Reginold, before roughly pushing him back, ignoring his indignant protests as he was shoved into the inn room.
"Just stay in your room until you're ready to leave tomorrow, okay? It's safer for all of that way if you don't go wandering around anywhere."
With that, he slammed the door, leaving a mortified look etched across his face.
How rude!
With an airy huff, he stormed over to the bed, double checking his satchel was there, before walking over to the window to open the wooden blinds.
He could see the mansion around the corner at the far end of the street.
As he tried to calm down, he couldn't help but wonder. What the hell is going on around here?
It was turning to dusk as Sygil stared outside of a window in his mansion, watching dark clouds roll in, cracks of thunder and lightning sporadically erupting as the faint traces of rain arrived.
Everything was, for once, working accordingly. His plans were starting to become implemented. Nothing was interfering with them, and for the first time in months, he felt confident about his injury recovering.
The door creaked open as Maxmillian entered.
"Any updates?"
His loyal NPC was quick to reply.
"Forty-Seven has got a workforce established. He is beginning to search the nearby land for a suitable mine to establish. Hans is collecting several reports concerning the mercenaries and the demi-humans. The merchant is still under guard in the inn, sir."
"Then we are on track. Soon we can start looking at expanding our army once Forty-Seven islevelled up high enough and we have sufficient starting resources."
"Of course, sir," affirmed Maxmillian with satisfaction.
"I'm going to finish looking at the finances," Sygil gestured to the paperwork scattered on the desk behind him.
"You are dismissed for the night, Maxmillian."
Maxmillian gave a clipped nod, before exiting the room.
As Maxmillian left the room, Sygil let a satisfied smile work itself across his face. Everything is going according to plan.
Reginold tightened his leather coat, pulling the hood up as he opened his satchel.
Where is it? Come on, where is it? Ah, here it is."
Finding what he was looking for, he produced a small chain necklace containing an amulet. A crack of thunder frightened him, causing him to the hide the amulet in his jacket as he shot a glance towards the door, fearing discovery.
Realising it was just the weather, he sighed in relief, before adorning the necklace. The effect was instantaneous. His holy body started to visible fade away into a cloudy mass, only vaguely visible. With the addition of the storm rolling in, and the cover of night, he would be practically invisible to the naked eye. Which was what he wanted as he glanced back at the window, the muffled howling of the wind billowing through the streets below.
Something was not right in this town, and he was going to investigate it. First the paranoia of the guards, then Alizia refusing to hear his case. However, the strangest thing was the sudden appearance of this Sygil character appearing and taking over Beovhan's land, with Beovhan and Clair just walking away.
Something seemed fishy, and he was damned if he wasn't going to bother finding out. And the best place to start was at the very place he wasn't allowed entry; the mansion.
Double checking his lantern was off, and his pillows propped underneath the bed sheets to make it appear he was sleeping, he finally approached the window, and opened it.
He was instantly greeted with a buffet of strong wind and rain in his face. After spending a moment to gather himself, he climbed onto the frame, looking down to get his footing, before making his descent, closing the window after himself.
He was only on the second floor, so he wasn't that far off of the ground, almost jumping distance, but he still climbed down safely instead.
It was nearly dark, and the lantern lights from nearby houses and street poles were the only thing that permitted him to see in the atrocious conditions.
He took a step forward and nearly slipped in the mud, catching himself from falling at the last second.
After steadying himself, he took a look in the direction he intended to go; the mansion. After checking for anyone on the street, he made his way to his destination.
It took only a few minutes to get to the mansion, and he could make out several lights from the second floor, as well as the silhouette of someone seated near the balcony, hunched over a desk.
After glancing around to ensure no-one was present, he made his way to the front door.
He gave the door knob a slow, gentle turn to see if it would budge, but it was locked. However, he was prepared for this inevitability, so reaching into his jacket, he prepared to pull out a lock-pick. Howver, he stopped mid-reach as he heard.
Voices. Muffled, and inside, approaching the front door.
Glancing around, there was nowhere to really take cover, and while his amulet would help, it didn't provide total invisibility.
So, instead, he traced the walls of the mansion to enter through the back door.
I hope there's no-one on this side, either.
Fortunately, there wasn't once he finally arrived in the dark.
Now, I just need to make my way to the back – what's that?
Was that a cage?
Curiously, he edged closer when he realised it was actually two cages.
Why are there cages in the back – is that a person?
Sure enough, there was someone huddled in the cage, hugging themselves as rain poured off of them.
He was about to ignore them when a flash of lightning illuminated them, revealing them more clearly.
It was a woman in a tattered dress, covered in mud, blood and grime. However, the most catching feature was her face. It almost looked like - ?
"Clair?"
The woman looked up at him, and in the dark he could just make out some of her features.
"Huh? W-who is it?"
It sounded just like her, albeit defeated.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled the necklace off, revealing himself to her.
"Clair? It's me. Reginold! What happened, what are you doing in a cage?"
"Reginold?" Clair stirred.
"No, no it can't be?! Reginold?"
"It's me! Where's Beovhan?" However, he could hazard a guess as he glanced at the cage on his left.
Slumped up against the bars was short, portly figure that looked like –
"Beovhan! It's Reginold!" Clair whisper shouted.
"Huh, Reginold?" Beovhan stirred.
After a second to orient himself, he looked at the vague silhouette of Reginold.
"By the… Reginold, is that you?!"
"Yes, yes it is!" He confirmed frantically. By now, the two were facing him.
"What the fuck happened? Why are you in cages? What the hell is going on?" He rattled off.
He could hear Clair sneer.
"I'll tell you what happened. That bastard Sygil is what happened."
"Who's Sygil?" Though, it didn't take but a second for him to clue in who Sygil was.
"Oh, I'll tell you who Sygil is. He's the fucker that did this to us," spat Beovhan, though Reginold could barely hear him over the wail of the wind and rain.
Reginold could feel anger wash over him.
"I'm getting you two out of here."
"No!" They both whisper-shouted.
"Wha-? Why not?"
"You won't get far. Bastard will find out and track us easily. And once he gets a hold of us, we're doubly fucked," explained Beovhan.
"But I can't just leave you in here?"
"You're going to have to. For now," gritted Beovhan.
Before Reginold could retort, Clair spoke up.
"Reggie, I need you to do us both an important favour."
"What?" Reginold leaned forward to Clair.
"I need you to get to the Noble Court immediately. Tell them what has happened. Once they realise that our property has been stolen, get them to send Baron Joyce."
Reginold shook his head, however.
"The nobles won't listen to me, I'm just a merchant!"
"Not if you go directly to Baron Joyce. Write a letter explaining that we have been forcefully invaded. Bring the parchment back to me and Beovhan and I can sign it. If you present that letter to Baron Joyce, he'll verify it with a Court Mage. He'll know what to do."
Reginold's heart was racing at the enormity of what was transpiring.
"W-what will he do?"
"Simple," growled Beovhan. Reginold looked at him, but Clair was the one to answer with murderous rage.
"The nobles will be obligated to help us. And Baron Joyce? He'll send an army 10,000 strong here to flush this parasite off our land and kill him."
Author's note:
I debated having this chapter originally merged with the last to be one chapter, but it ended up being longer than I anticipated. Anyways, this pretty much wraps up all of the exposition and setting up for the story. We did the prologue with Yggdrasil, and now we have set up the playing board for Sygil and co. Now... the story shall commence in full, and in real.
Also, I'm curious if anyone picked out the reference in this chapter. It's a pretty big one and was an inspiration. First person to guess it gets a free internet cookie from me.
Next chapter will be crossposted both here and on AO3 on January 8th 2021. See you then :)