UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 107

The gathering room felt smaller than usual.

Max studied his friends' faces as they settled into their seats around the table Fowl had borrowed from the Golden Axe faction over a century ago. The wood was dark, polished from years of use, and the chairs had been designed to accommodate everyone from Fowl's shorter frame to Rakonath's bulk when he chose to sit in humanoid form.

Today, everyone was present. That alone told Max how serious this conversation would be.

"Alright," Fowl said, crossing his arms. "Someone want to explain why we're all here instead of doing something useful?"

"Because Max has an idea," Tanila replied, her tone carrying the familiar weight of someone who'd already heard part of it. "One that affects all of us."

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward him.

Here we go.

Just lay it out. They'll either agree or they won't. 

Max leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I want to talk about Nerdok. Specifically, about getting a portal pad set up on our world."

The silence that followed was heavier than he'd expected.

Fowl was the first to break it. "The gnome? The one you think might be a god playing dress-up?"

"The same."

"Bah." The dwarf shook his head. "And here I thought you were going to suggest something crazy."

Batrire elbowed her husband. "Let him finish."

Max nodded his thanks. "Look, I know the risks. We've talked about Nerdok before and what he might be. We’ve discussed what he might want. But here's the reality we're facing." He gestured toward Jazzjak, who pulled up a display on his tablet. Numbers filled the air above the table, glowing softly. "Our DP income is steady, but it's not enough. Not if we want everyone at tier five before protection ends."

"We knew that already," Cordellia said quietly. "The math hasn't changed."

"No, but our options have." Max stood, pacing slowly around the table. "A portal pad would open our world to trade. New species coming through, new people settling here. Each one generates DP. It's not just about goods or knowledge, it's about growth."

Rakonath's deep voice rumbled from his corner. "You're talking about inviting outsiders onto our world. Permanently."

"Some of them, yes."

"And the ones who come through temporarily?"

"Traders, craftsmen, maybe adventurers looking for tower access." Max stopped pacing. "It's how other worlds accelerate their development. We've seen it. That gnome world Nerdok operates from it's a hub. Dozens of species passing through every day. The amount of DP flowing through that place has to be massive."

Sog leaned back in his chair, his black skin absorbing the light. "We’ve been to a world like that. Before." His jaw tightened. "They're not all success stories, Max. Some of them become battlegrounds. Igarra’s world wasn’t peaceful even though we thought it was going to be.  You mentioned what that gnome did to a whole section of the town when they tried to steal Rakonath’s core. What’s to stop species with too many grudges, all crammed together?"

"That's a fair point," Max admitted. "But we'd control who comes through. We set the rules."

"Do we?" Tanila asked. Her golden eyes met his, and Max could see the concern there. "If we join whatever network Nerdok operates, don't we have to follow their rules too?"

That was when Jazzjak cleared his throat.

Everyone turned to the vorpal rabbit, who had been unusually quiet. His red eyes were dim, the sign that he was processing something serious.

"She's right to ask that question," Jazzjak said slowly. "And I think it's time I explained what joining a portal network actually means."

Jazzjak set his tablet down and stood so everyone could see him clearly.

"Portal networks don't just connect worlds," he began. "They create obligations. When you install a portal pad and link it to an existing network, you're not just opening a door. You're signing onto a collective."

"A collective?" Fowl asked, frowning. "Like a guild?"

"More like a treaty organization." Jazzjak's whiskers twitched. "Think of it this way… Every world in the network agrees to certain terms. Trade regulations. Transit rights. Conflict resolution protocols. And most importantly, mutual defense."

"Mutual defense against what?" Batrire asked.

"Against anyone who threatens a member world." Jazzjak's voice grew more serious. "If a god outside the collective attacks one of the member worlds, the others might be obligated to respond. That's the trade-off. You get protection from external threats, but you also have to provide protection when called upon."

Max felt Bob stir inside him.

That's a significant commitment. We'd be bound to fight for worlds we've never seen, against enemies we know nothing about.

I know. But it also means we wouldn't be alone if someone came for us.

Assuming the collective actually honors its commitments. Treaties are only as strong as the gods willing to enforce them.

Rakonath voiced the same concern aloud. "And if we refuse to honor our obligations? What then?"

"Then you face the wrath of the collective," Jazzjak replied. "Every world that's part of the network would consider you hostile. Trade would stop. Portal access would be revoked. And if the violation was severe enough..." He paused. "They might decide to make an example of you."

"So we trade one set of potential enemies for another," Cordellia said. "Instead of worrying about random gods attacking after protection ends, we worry about the collective turning on us if we step out of line."

"That's one way to look at it,” their helper stated.

Silence fell again.

Max watched his friends process the information. Fowl's jaw was tight, the way it got when he was chewing on a problem he didn't like. Batrire had her hand on his arm, steadying him. Tanila's expression was unreadable, but Max knew her well enough to see the calculations happening behind her eyes.

Sog was the first to speak. "I've seen what happens when demons break pacts," he said quietly. "The punishment is... thorough. If these collectives operate the same way, we need to understand exactly what we're agreeing to before we sign anything."

"Agreed," Cordellia added. "What exactly would we be obligated to do? How often? And who decides when the collective has been 'threatened' enough to trigger a response?"

Jazzjak's ears flattened slightly. "Those are the right questions. Unfortunately, I don't have all the answers. The specifics vary between networks. Some are loose affiliations with minimal obligations. Others are..." He searched for the word. "Stricter."

"And Nerdok's network?" Max asked.

"From what I've been able to gather, it's somewhere in the middle. Not the most demanding, but far from the most lenient." The vorpal rabbit pulled up more data on his tablet. "The network he operates connects roughly forty worlds. Most are tier two or tier three god territories. A few tier fours. No tier fives that I know of."

"Which would make us the strongest members if we joined," Rakonath observed.

"Most likely, yes."

"That could work in our favor," the dragon continued. "Or it could make us a target. The strongest member often gets called on the most."

Fowl slammed his palm on the table. "Bah! All this talk of obligations and treaties, we're dancing around the real question." He pointed at Max. "Do we trust Nerdok enough to do business with him? Because that's what this comes down to. Everything else is just details."

Max took a deep breath. "No," he said finally. "I don't trust him. Not completely. Maybe not at all."

"Then why are we even discussing this?" Tanila asked softly.

"Because trust isn't the only factor." Max returned to his seat, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "We don't trust Nerdok, but we also can't afford to ignore what he's offering. Our DP growth is too slow. We've done everything we can with our current setup. Even with our obelisks, sparks, bloodlines, and training champions. It's not enough."

You and I both know the math doesn't lie. At our current rate, tier six is... optimistic.

Unless something changes.

"A portal network changes the equation," Max continued. "New species means new DP. Trade means wealth flowing through our world, which means more development, which means more points. It's a multiplier effect."

"And if Nerdok is playing us?" Sog asked. "If this whole thing is a setup?"

"Then we deal with it when it happens." Max's voice hardened. "We've dealt with worse. We'll keep our eyes open, watch for signs of betrayal, and be ready to cut ties if we have to. But I'm not willing to let fear stop us from taking an opportunity that could save all of us."

Batrire had been quiet for a while, but now she spoke up. "What about our people? The ones living here now? If we open the world to outsiders, there'll be friction. Different species, different cultures, different ways of doing things. That's not nothing."

"No, it isn't," Max agreed. "But our people have already adapted to a lot. Demons, dragons, elves, humans, dwarves, all living together. Adding more isn't easy, but it's not impossible either."

"The question is whether the benefits outweigh the risks," Tanila said. She'd been thinking quietly, and now her voice was measured. "New DP sources. New allies, potentially. New knowledge and skills flowing through the portal. Against that, we weigh collective obligations, potential conflicts, and the unknown of Nerdok's true intentions."

"Don't forget the surveillance aspect," Cordellia added. "If Nerdok is a god pretending to be a helper, he's doing it to gather information. A portal pad on our world would give him, or whoever he's working with, direct access to everything happening here. Who comes, who goes, what we trade, how strong we're getting."

"He's probably already watching," Max replied. "I visited his world. A portal doesn't change that, it just makes the watching more convenient."

"That's not exactly reassuring," Fowl muttered.

"It's not meant to be. It's meant to be realistic."

***

The debate continued for another hour.

They went around the table multiple times, each god raising concerns, offering perspectives, pushing back on assumptions. Max answered what he could and admitted when he couldn't. Bob provided silent commentary throughout, sometimes agreeing with the others' objections, sometimes pointing out flaws in their logic.

Finally, Rakonath raised a claw for attention.

"We've been circling the same points," the dragon said. "I think we need to acknowledge something fundamental." He looked at Max. "None of us wants to join a collective. The obligations concern us. Nerdok concerns us. The loss of complete autonomy concerns us." His golden eyes swept the room. "But we're not discussing this because we want to. We're discussing it because we need to."

"Time," Tanila said softly. "It always comes back to time."

"Yes." Rakonath nodded. "We each know how much time we have left before protection runs out. It sounds like forever to a mortal, but to gods?" He shook his massive head. "We've already spent over a hundred years building this world, raising champions, growing our strength. And we're still not where we need to be."

"So we take the risk," Fowl said. It wasn't a question.

"We take a calculated risk," Batrire corrected. "There's a difference."

"Barely,” her husband replied.

"Enough of one." Their healer looked at Max. "If we do this, and I'm not saying we should, we need safeguards. Ways to minimize what Nerdok can learn, ways to limit our exposure to collective obligations, ways to walk away if things go wrong."

"I've been thinking about that," Jazzjak said. "There are... options. Some networks allow provisional membership. Limited portal access with reduced obligations. It's less beneficial, but it's also less binding."

"That might be the compromise," Cordellia mused. "Start small. See how it works. Expand only if it proves worthwhile."

"And if it doesn't prove worthwhile?" Sog asked.

"Then we shut it down and accept that we tried." She shrugged. "Better than sitting here wondering what could have been."

Max watched the mood in the room shift. Not quite agreement, but something close to resignation. They didn't like this option, none of them did, but they were running out of alternatives.

"I'll go talk to Nerdok," Max said. "Just to explore the possibilities. No commitments, no agreements. I want to know exactly what he's offering before we decide anything."

"And if he tries to pressure you?" Tanila asked.

"Then I'll walk away." Max smiled slightly. "I've walked away from worse deals."

"Have you though?" Fowl grumbled.

"Name one time I made a deal that backfired on us."

The dwarf opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it. "Fine. But if this goes sideways, I reserve the right to say I told you so."

"Noted."

One by one, the others nodded their assent. Not enthusiasm, there was none of that, but acceptance. They'd weighed the options and found them all wanting. The portal was the least bad choice.

"Then it's settled," Rakonath said. "Max will speak with Nerdok. Learn what he can. Report back." The dragon's eyes met Max's. "And we'll decide together what happens next."

"Together," Max agreed.

He looked around the table at the gods who had become his family. They'd fought together, bled together, built a world together. Whatever came next, they'd face it the same way.

You know this is probably a trap.

Everything is probably a trap. That's never stopped us before.

True. Just wanted to make sure you remembered.

Max pushed back from the table and stood. "I'll leave tomorrow. The sooner we have answers, the sooner we can plan."

"Be careful," Tanila said, rising to stand beside him.

"Always."

Fowl snorted. "Bah. That's the biggest lie you've ever told."

For the first time in hours, everyone laughed.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. They had a direction now. A path forward, however uncertain.

Now it was just time to walk it.