MM - Chapter 227 - FLAMES OF AMBITION

The sun hung high, casting waves of gentle heat over the milling crowd of crafters. Fizgore stood at their head, bare chest gleaming so brightly Raine wondered how the lot of them weren’t squinting. The big man caught sight of him and broke into a grin, clapping his hands together with a resonant smack. “Brother, you've returned! These fine souls grow restless, like eagles waiting for the storm to pass.”

Raine scanned their faces, searching for flickers of recognition from his past life. Thirty years was a long time when it came to recalling the names and faces of geniuses he never met, or might have only heard about in passing. Unless they made a big splash like Celeste or Rhino, they were cast into the misty fog that was long-term memory. Crafters, in particular, had fled the kingdom the moment it fell to the Dantinians, when material acquisition became stifled. 

He shook his head sadly. These people were all strangers, and his memories from so long ago naught but a blur. At this point in his past, only weeks after ZionLine’s release, he had been nearly useless, depressed, and numb to a world designed to keep him poor and unfulfilled; nothing had mattered, so he didn't pay attention, didn’t try.

Attempts to convince himself that the holes in his memories weren’t a significant drawback, that he was bound to find a few with potential through luck alone, failed. That thought was a pretty lie. The truth was that some geniuses required extraordinarily specific criteria to be met before their worth could shine: a mother cured of illness before a son could gain focus and insight; a father reuniting with his lost daughter, who then becomes a muse for his transcendent talent; a peaceful workshop in the hills without distraction; the list was as varied as the god-tier crafters themselves.

Since he couldn’t remember them, there was nothing to do but forge ahead. Setting his frustration aside, Raine nodded appreciatively to Fizgore. Stepping forward, his voice rose to cut through the clamor. “Thank you for waiting patiently. We'll begin momentarily.”

A burly man near the front crossed his arms, oversized beard twitching with irritation. “We've been here all morning after you ran off! At this rate, half of us’ll be forced to log out before getting a shot at your supposed audition.”

A woman beside him nodded vigorously, wiping sweat from her brow with a stained sleeve. “He's right. You dangle jobs like bait, then leave us hooked to dry in the sun. How long do you expect us to rot here with nothing to show for it. Could have been out trying to scrape materials.”

Raine lifted his hands, palms out, gaze steadily sweeping across them with disapproval; a reminder that they could have been part of the first group if they hadn’t scorned his original offer. “Everyone gets a chance to qualify. There are no limits to numbers; if I need to rent more adept rooms to accommodate additional hires, I will. But I can only test ten at a time. If you think you can figure out the new crafting system faster than I can get to you, well, no one's forcing you to stay.”

The crowd shifted, murmurs dying down as they exchanged glances. They had all seen the gold he handed out like cheap candy and wanted a piece for themselves. Pacified for the time being, they begrudgingly settled in for a long wait. The day dragged on, hours passing as one group of crafters after another were led inside, instructed, and put to work.

Those left to wait were further appeased when he hired a group of porters to bring meals from a nearby restaurant. Generosity wasn't the point; loyalty was. These crafters needed to see Astra as more than a job, but as a foundation of support worth building on. Their effort and enthusiasm were essential for the future Raine envisioned. 

He knew better than anyone how vital it was for Astra Infernum to create a circular economy as soon as possible. First, hunters and farmers fought to procure materials. Then, crafters used those materials to create equipment for the hunters, who then would be capable of procuring better materials. This cycle was the basis for every booming guild’s economy. So far, Raine had managed to bypass this norm by stealing from his enemies. That shortcut would no longer work once Astra was ahead in levels and equipment quality. 

When that day came, these very crafters would need to be ready, or his guild would stagnate. Not to mention, the payroll for his existing employees was burning a hole in his credits. The sooner Astra could begin producing goods to earn a profit, the better.

Fizgore turned out too efficient at gathering more of them. Realizing he would never finish if things continued as they were, Raine sent the man back to the mountains to reconnect with Celeste. The sun was threatening the horizon by the time he finished. He hired over twenty from each profession—smiths, alchemists, scribes, and more, all wide-eyed at their first month's pay of five gold. To most, it was a life-changing amount of potential credits. Tears streaked more than one face, fingers clutching their gold like lifelines. Those who failed wept too, shoulders slumping in defeat.

The additional bodies necessitated another twenty-two thousand gold in salaries, facilities, and materials; a cost Raine happily fronted. It had only been a single Earth day since the exchange launched, and already ZLO’s shares had nearly doubled in value. It would only continue to grow as independent sources began reporting on just how many credits were being thrown into buying gold. Unfortunately, Raine had already capped out on how much he could buy and sell. He had a little over two million gold left, but that would be gone by the end of the day.

He personally escorted the final failure out. He clasped the tailor's arm, grip firm. “Practice on your own. Improve your success rate, and try again next week. Astra’s doors will never close for those with perseverance and even a little skill.”

The man wiped his eyes, nodding jerkily. “You’ll really give me another shot?”

Raine released him, stepping back. “If you earn it,” he promised.

Other failures still mingled about, whispers of hopelessness passing between them. The fact they weren’t already off making improvements or hunting for materials told the tale of why they failed in the first place. Leaving them to their misery, Raine hailed a cart to the Nobles' District. 

The wheels rumbled over coarse cobblestones, and a cool wind caressed his cheek. Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Celeste. An unfamiliar ache surfaced, and it didn’t take a genius to discover its source.

I fumbled with her, hard. Instead of accepting her inexperience and guiding her, I threw everything in her lap without any real explanation. Shit. I never even told her what I want, what I expect, or how strong she is; beautiful, invigorating to be around.

Raine smiled softly, recalling all the times she’d made him laugh just by being her crazy self. Celeste was an embodiment of fire, but lately, she’d also proven that her heart was soft and warm, delicate to the touch. Fingers ran through sweat-slicked hair as an explosive sigh blew through Raine’s lips. He had allowed distractions to pull him away from making time for her, making her feel valued. She deserved more than scraps of attention and relentless commands. He resolved to fix those mistakes, and he had just the thing to start with, though he didn’t dare pull it from his inventory in the middle of the Nobles’ District.

The administrative offices loomed ahead, torches flickering in the growing dusk. Raine hopped from the cart and flipped a tip to the sprinter before striding through the entrance with purpose. Guards bowed low, spears dipping in unison. He moved past swiftly, traveling familiar halls. Everyone who saw him bowed and scurried out of the way. Now that he shone with the aura of a baron, on top of his queen’s favor, they were practically licking the ground he walked on. At the head clerk’s door, he knocked once, entering without waiting.

Rhamos sat buried behind towering stacks of papers, his quill scratching furiously. He leaned sideways to peer around the piles, eyes widening in recognition. The chair toppled in his haste, papers fluttering like startled birds. Rhamos scrambled to his feet, brushing off his robes with hurried swipes. “Lord Baron! An honor to see you again!”

Raine waved a hand dismissively, stepping closer. “Looks like it's been a long day for us both, Master Clerk. Let's skip the formalities.”

Rhamos straightened his spectacles, nodding eagerly. “Of course, my lord. How may I be of assistance?”

Leaning against the desk, arms crossed, Raine got straight to the point. “Those additional properties, are they still available?”

The mousy clerk darted to a side desk, snatching the thinnest stack of papers in the entire office. He flipped through them, fingers a blur. “Indeed, my lord. I held them specifically for you, as we discussed. There have been no inquiries from others who could afford such prime locations.”

Raine's lips curved upward, satisfaction revealed as his palms rubbed together. “Excellent.” He dropped a heavy sack onto the freshly cleared space, the desk practically vibrating from its weight. “Here's the remaining four hundred thousand for the first prime’s rent.” A standard Vaaterran cycle was a close approximation to an Earth year, minus forty-two days and change. Each cycle was split into five primary fingers—or primes, which could be thought of as a season, each roughly equivalent to three Earth months.

Rhamos's eyes gleamed as he swept the sack into his inventory with a precise movement. He scurried to lock the door, the click sharp in the quiet. Returning, he grinned, teeth flashing. “With your barony confirmed, we can finalize the contracts for those additional plots. Your most vicious plan to corner the market is one step closer to completion.”

Being permitted to rent three plots of land within the city was only the start of Rain’s plans for abusing his new title. He matched the clerk’s grin, leaning forward. “That’s not the only reason I came. I require a retinue. Can you suggest a company that offers permanent hires? I want two full conrois of level forty classers, led by level fifty bearers. Add five support servants, a steward, treasurer, and assistant clerk to manage my accounts.

“Yes! Absolutely, my lord. I know just the company; they are the elites of the elites, though their salaries are nothing to scoff at. I would be remiss to remind that the support staff will put you over the fifty retainer maximum allowed for a Baron; there will be an associated additional tax for each.”

Raine nodded, “I am aware. Include the tax in your tally of the additional lots’ primes and the retinue salaries. I’ll also need another construction company to build warehouses on both plots, as Garrick is busy with other projects.”

“Understood. One moment.” Rhamos bent over an abacus built into his desk, beads clicking rapidly under his fingers. He straightened after a moment, clearing his throat. “1,150,099 gold, my lord.”

Raine dropped the requested sum down without hesitation.

Only two hundred thousand for fifty soldiers and staff? A steal, even if they're low level. They can advance in levels along with the regulars after I stuff them up CronGate’s ass.

His grin turned predatory as he pictured how horrible things were about to get for his enemies. The gold he’d just spent would soon be reimbursed, with interest. Rhamos shifted, wringing his hands. "If it pleases you, my lord, I have a nephew—Charles. A genius at accounting and acquisitions, seeking employment in a prominent rising star such as your Astra Infernum."

Raine's interest was instantly piqued, though his expression turned neutral. Unique Vaaterrans were gold mines, their talents worth fortunes—if you could secure them, which was as much luck as the steep salary they demanded. Not having much funds left, and still needing a bit more for his plans, Raine could only shrug and hope he had enough. “Direct him to my guild hall at his earliest convenience to discuss his salary.”

Rhamos bowed deeply, relief washing over his features. “Thank you, my lord! Charles shall accompany your retinue there with all haste.”

“There’s one more thing, Rhamos. My title isn’t permanent, yet. Her Majesty informed that I would need to provide some necessary contributions to change that.”

“Right you are, my lord. For starters, a small donation of five million gold is required, and, I would be remiss not to add that the tax benefits a baron receives would counter that payment within a short five cycles. In addition, if your Astra Infernum were to claim five military victories that benefit the kingdom, then there would be no issues making your title permanent.

Raine cringed, knowing he had to hurry if he were going to achieve either of those requirements in time. He inclined his head. "That's all for today, Rhamos."

The head clerk clutched the papers they’d signed to his chest. “Until we meet again, Lord Baron.”

Raine strode from the offices and out into the cooling evening. The Nobles' District buzzed around him, liveried servants scurrying to ignite the street lanterns for another long night. He hailed a cart, settling in for the ride back to the guild hall. His new army would arrive soon—fifty Vaaterran souls, entirely his to command. They were a force capable of wiping out tens of thousands of Travelers in minutes.

But that wasn’t good enough. He had methods to make them even more deadly.

Upon arriving, he found the first foundation had been completed on time, a flawless slab of unyielding stone. The crafters were gone for the night, their tools tucked out of sight, leaving only the passing people on the street to bear witness. He withdrew a scroll wrought with shimmering golden thread, its edges glowing with an otherworldly pulse of untapped energy.

Holding it high against the deepening twilight, he instilled a sliver of intent into the item. It burst into flames with a dramatic whoosh, the fire dancing wildly as if alive and eager. The inferno expanded in a great, roaring rush that surged across the empty foundation like a swarm of fiery spirits, twisting and weaving into intricate patterns before erupting into a light so blindingly bright that the night momentarily fled. Passersby shielded their eyes, gasping in awe, while Raine refused to look away. Such summonings were too rare to miss.

When the brilliance faded, Raine blinked away spots that danced like mischievous fireflies. A magnificent barracks stood where once there had been only empty air. Towering walls of obsidian and gleaming silver filigree rose triumphantly. They were topped with battlements that were both seamless form and solid function. Banners of deep blue fluttered in the breeze, each proudly wielding his guild’s emblem.

[Premium Barracks: This rare construction can house a maximum of 2,500 soldiers. Reduces the negative affliction recovery time of residents by 25%. Additionally grants a bonus 25% efficacy to command skills applied to residents]

Raine immediately ducked inside, the heavy reinforced doors swinging open with a satisfying creak to reveal a stunning, fully-furnished interior: beyond the outer defenses lay a long hallway lined with sturdy doors; through each were rooms stuffed with rows of bunk beds. The hall, each room, and every individual bunk were connected with enchanted lines that thrummed with Elemental Power. The entire building was an interconnected array, granting it the special bonuses.

He set himself as the primary resident with a few taps in his interface, feeling the building's array connect to his avatar with a mental click.

[New resurrection location bound: Astra Infernum Guild Headquarters - Premium Barracks]

As exciting as the barracks was, his mind returned to Celeste. The gift he had for her wasn’t ready yet. He entered the main hall and hustled to his study, there withdrawing a small box from his inventory. Inside sat a soft stone. Panoramic windows framed the city's twinkling lights as the Soul Flame of Amanesh heeded his call, engulfing the stone in golden fire. Its surface drank in the heat and light.

He continued to pour in more and more flames, his eyes reflecting the flickering embers as he imagined her reaction. The Sunstone was only a start, a bridge to mend what he'd neglected.

All too soon, footsteps echoed in the hall below, voices questing for Baron Alaric; his retinue had arrived. Raine snapped the lid closed on the velvet-wrapped box, heartbeat hammering for more reasons than he could count.

[Sunstone: (Marvelous Gold) A mysterious stone that remains cool to the touch even when bathed in intense flames]