Nero Walker, Book 4 Ch.81 (312)

For Vera, participating in a conversation with this many people through a singular ping wasn’t something all that new or unfamiliar to her. As the head of Precision Shipping, she’d often found herself in meetings through the use of the Thought Hub rather than being there in person. And realistically, considering how often her subordinates were forced to attend to matters throughout the city, it was simply a matter of practicality to manage her people that way.

But for the others currently on the ping, they were obviously struggling to handle so many different presences within their minds. She could feel many of them instinctively retreating into themselves, opting to listen in silence rather than participate as the stronger minds took over the conversation.

“... Whether or not the citizenry can convince the council of faith to act, the damage has already been done,” her husband Nicholas stated again, having repeated this point multiple times before.

She couldn’t help but be impressed by the strength he was projecting. His mind stood out like a pillar of competence in the face of the powerhouses who have somehow become entangled with House Walker. Unlike her, he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated.

The largest presence by far, the archmage, replied, “As I’ve said before, I’m not disagreeing with you, what I am saying is that you are overreacting. There is no possibility of a cult or religion dedicated to him being ratified by the kingdom. It simply won’t happen. Besides, once he leaves the city, none of this will matter.”

Vera, attempting to wrangle the conversation back into a productive direction, interjected, “While I’m sure you both might be correct, what we currently need to be concerned about is the perception of Lord Walker in the city, and the likely retaliation by the council of leadership and the nobles.”

Nicholas replied, “And I’ve already told you, nothing they do will matter. In that regard, at least, the archmage is correct.”

Unable to hide her frustration with the lovable but stubborn man, she replied, “And I’ve told you that you’re being naive. Steering public perception on an issue like this can result in any number of problems. Whether we’re the ones doing the steering, or someone else, we’ll be the ones having to deal with where we end up.”

Smugly, Nicholas replied, “Problems more serious than envoys from the capital coming to collect Lord Walker like a prize?”

Quincy, the former evaluator and current head of what could be called House Walker’s clandestine services, interrupted their byplay by saying, “Perception or reality, neither of them affects the core issue that the archmage has already recognized. We’ve lost control of the growing legend, and from here we can only guess what will happen. How will the people react when the faiths confirm that Lord Walker is neither a planar lord nor a god, and that he is instead just a man? While House Walker, by virtue of its lord being a unique, doesn’t rely on the local ladders, House Verena’s surely does. And as his local representative, receiving an overwhelmingly negative rating by the citizenry will cause serious economic repercussions that might take both them and House Walker a very long time to recover from. And we should all keep in mind that while Lord Walker likely should leave the city to avoid entanglements with the capital, doing so could prove disastrous for his growing power base.”

Sounding more than a little annoyed, the archmage replied, “Powerbase? In Dorchester? The fact that you’ve put so much effort into growing anything here is both a waste of your time and your effort. What we need to do is get him and his Wackos out of the city and engaged in some quests from some of the larger cities. Those are the type of entanglements that will force those leeches in the capital to back down. Furthermore, by doing so, we will both distance him from these religious issues and give the relevant local authorities time to calm everyone down. In the short term, maybe the next few years or so, there might be some issues, but I believe Lady Verena and whoever is left behind will be more than capable of handling them.”

Surprisingly, Cathleen chose to voice her support for the archmage’s plan, “I agree with the archmage. The issue of Lord Walker’s divinity is a distraction we don’t need. Whether he is already a god or will eventually become one isn’t worth worrying about. What he needs to be doing is growing, and the best way for him to do that is to find foes worth facing and challenges for him to overcome. Being ensnared in these petty political concerns is beneath someone like him.”

Vera replied with some heat in her voice, “These ‘petty political concerns’ are how House Walker will be able to pay for the wars you wish to wage. If you intend to travel to other cities, it will cost money. Currently, the entirety of House Walker’s income will be coming from its sole vassal, House Verena. And if we don’t handle this issue with the citizenry and the local council of leadership, we’ll be at the bottom of the ladder, paying exorbitant taxes that will cripple our growth. We’ll go from a rapidly expanding house to one in decline. And considering the house was just founded, that could very well end up with us being forced to sell off the businesses we just opened.”

Her unvarnished opinion was met with harsh rebukes from all sides. Archmage Jennings believed that she was being overly concerned with her house’s growth, essentially putting her interests above the greater good of House Walker. While Cathleen and Knight Angelton both agreed with him, although each for their own reasons. And as for the former evaluators, they simply stated that she should already begin planning around that outcome as if it were an inevitability.

Unwilling to argue with them, she remained silent. Yet, the longer this conversation went on, the more she was beginning to regret having agreed to tie herself to House Walker. Not because she didn’t believe in young Nero’s potential, but because the people around him all were incapable of thinking of anything other than their own agendas.

It hadn’t been clear until recently, but she’d come to understand that the archmage was only interested in watching Lord Walker grow as if he were nothing more than an experiment to be observed. Meanwhile, Cathleen and the more combat-centric types were only concerned with how powerful he’d become and what kind of legend he’d forge for them all to participate in. Lastly, there were the former evaluators, who’d been secretly spreading their influence on his behalf, forming a movement dedicated to adventure with what she assumed was the intention of creating a tower dedicated to the idea. She could only guess at their motivations, but she assumed they intended to become its founders and gain a reputation on par with the founders of the Hall of Hunters. In her opinion, none of them had Nero’s best interests in mind. They were all just pushing their own agendas while relying on him to advance them.

While she was lost in thought, the former evaluator, Vaxas, silenced everyone with a single question, “What I would like to know is why you are all assuming that this recent religious issue will result in a loss of reputation for Lord Walker?”

Nicholas was the first to reply, “Because, obviously, when the faiths make it clear that he is neither a god nor a planar lord, then the citizenry will feel duped. Even if we make a statement that contradicts the growing narrative, and we have, they will still feel as if they’d been lied to.”

Vaxas, in a tone devoid of emotion, replied, “Has anyone bothered to consider that he might be something we haven’t seen before, neither a god nor a planar lord, but instead something else?”

His presence projecting interest, Archmage Jennings asked, “Are you implying that you’ve discovered something that we’ve missed?”

His tone still subdued, Vaxas replied, “While you were all scheming, I did my due diligence and ran some experiments. The rituals are all common knowledge, and any one of you could have done the same.”

Nicholas, sounding more than a little insulted, replied, “You assume that we haven’t? I looked up the rituals of binding for a servant of a planar lord and tested them myself. There were no successful connections or linkages. I then personally set up and tested the standard rituals of faith, and the results were the same: no successful linkages, confirming that he is not a god. In fact, the religious rituals didn’t even activate. I even went so far as to use a supported power source, fueled by multiple essence crystals, and still there was no connection to be made.”

The archmage, now sounding annoyed at the former evaluator having gotten his hopes up, added, “If you are through wasting our time, then please remain quiet while those of us more capable finish discussing what our next steps should be.”

Still unemotional, Vaxas replied, “I’ll keep that in mind, archmage. But, for my peace of mind, would you mind at least telling me if either of you bothered to attempt to locate his plane?”

After a few seconds of silence, Vera couldn’t help but ask, “You’re implying that Lord Walker does, in fact, have ties to a plane? What makes you believe so? And if he does, is he, or is he not, a planar lord?”

Vaxas immediately replied, “No, I don’t believe he is. Just like Lord Verena, none of the binding rituals I found succeeded. But what I did note was that they did successfully activate. Which in itself is evidence of something happening. However, I’m not skilled enough in the planar sciences to find what they were attempting to connect to, only that the attempt wasn’t a complete failure. That alone led me to conclude that Lord Walker’s identity, Nero Walker, resonates within the planes. However, I’m not certain what that means, and I was hoping that either the respected archmage or our local prodigy would have an explanation for me.”

For just a moment, the connection they were all using on the Thought Hub was overwhelmed with the archmage’s presence. It was as if their individual minds were nothing more than flashlights in a dark room when someone decided to be inconsiderate and turn on the lights.

Feeling as if her mind were being drowned out, Vera’s mind completely blanked. But, just as quickly as it began, it was already over, leaving her to wonder if she’d only imagined it.

With his presence once again restrained and his tone as cold as ice in the depths of winter, Archmage Jennings said, “I’ll have to get back to you” before disappearing from the link.

Vera wasn’t surprised when she felt her husband Nicholas’ presence vanish almost immediately after the archmage was gone. He’d likely be unreachable in his lab for the foreseeable future.

Somewhere between amused and annoyed, Vera retook control of the conversation, along with those who were left, by saying, “Well, now that the sole assumption we’ve been basing our discussion on has been called into question, can we now discuss some of our strategies to handle the public fallout of this misinformation campaign which has been going on against us? According to reports, the dwarves will be here by tomorrow, and we, at the very least, need to have compiled one decisive action plan for Lord Walker to review before he meets with them…”

—--

By the time he was done with his shower, Nero was again back to feeling more like himself. He’d decided that regardless of what kind of nonsense the little magic panel in his mind was telling him, he was perfectly capable of accurately engaging in self-reflection without any metaphysical crutches to lean on. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t need the world or anyone else telling him who or what he was.

‘That’s what internet quizzes are for,’ he thought to himself with a chuckle.

It was the kind of self-confident belief in himself that could only be achieved by enjoying some ‘me’ time in the shower all by his lonesome. Although it was reassuring on some level that his hormones and bodily functions were all just as easily handled now as they were the last time he’d been a teenager, he did wonder whether or not being a manifestation of magic would help him avoid getting pimples in the future.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he smirked at the thought of some things never changing, regardless of what world he was in.

Using a few of the unfamiliar products near the sink, each of which he thought smelled nice, he spent some time messing with his hair. And even while looking like an anime protagonist, one in desperate need of a haircut, it was enjoyable to go through the ritual of making himself look oh-so-effortlessly put together.

‘It takes a lot of work to look this laid back and carefree,’ he noted to himself with a nod before tossing his wet towel at what he’d been assuming was the hamper.

Luckily for him, he had plenty of spare clothes in his personal space. Which, by the way, had once again grown larger since the last time he’d checked on it. Idly noting that interesting fact for later consideration and reflection, he carefully selected a comfortable robe along with some shower sandals he’d appropriated from his time with the elites. Since he had nowhere to be, he opted for comfort over style while ensuring that he still looked relatively well put together.

When he was ready, he gave himself a final check in the mirror. He was about to head out when his eyes drifted back toward the numerous little bottles and jars on the shelves near the sink. Rubbing his chin in thought, he wondered why he suddenly felt the desire to put a few of them in his personal space. Wouldn’t he just be stealing from himself? Just because this place felt like a hotel, doesn’t mean it was one… right?

‘Eh, screw it. I want them, and I’m sure at some point they’ll come in handy. Ohoho! This one smells like pinecones! Noice!’ he thought to himself with a smile while infusing them with his center and tossing them into his personal space.

Now finally ready, he slowly poked his head out of the bathroom door, fearful of what or whom might be waiting for him. He knew he’d been in the bathroom long enough for his legion of followers to organize one hell of a reception for him. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least to have them all lined up, waiting for their turn to ruin the remainder of his day.

Looking around the large chamber, Nero dropped his jaw in shock at the sight of the clothes he’d shed still lying haphazardly along the floor. Even the couch he’d propped up against the door hadn’t been moved, making it seem likely that no one had even attempted to bother him.

Throwing open the door, Nero strolled into the room with a wide grin on his face. He gingerly stepped over the clothes and armor, ignoring them as if he were perfectly happy leaving them where they were.

Muttering under his breath to himself, he said, “I’m gonna need to remember to write down whatever it was I said to them to get them to actually leave me alone.”

Plopping himself down on one of the couches, Nero took a moment to relax his weary back further into the cushions. For the first time in a while, he was in a nice room with fresh air, wearing clean clothes, and sitting in comfort.

Unsurprisingly, he was bored out of his mind in seconds. His mind completely unable to stop thinking its ass off.

Tapping his finger on the armrest of the couch, he looked around reflexively, looking for something interesting to do. No television or radio, but if he really wanted to he supposed he could stare at some of the paintings for a while.

‘Yeah, I’m never going to be much of an art lover…’ he admitted to himself before mentally moving on.

With his senses, he could barely feel his connection to his link, which was still in the pocket of his armored pants that were lying on the floor a few feet away from him. Groaning in annoyance, he rolled himself to his feet, stomping over as if the effort involved was nearly more than he could take.

While slipping the link into one of his robe’s pockets, Nero uncaringly dropped the armored pants back on the floor. Figuring that while he was up, he should be productive, he looked around for one of the coffee carts that always seemed to be around. But, aside from an empty pitcher, which he presumed would be for water, he found nothing.

Glancing at the door, which was still barricaded by the couch, he muttered, “Right… consequences of putting a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door.”

He was about to return to the couch without anything to drink when he heard a gentle but firm knock on the door. Raising his eyebrow in surprise, he wondered if the staff here really could read his mind. But, considering that he actually did kind of want to ask them for some coffee, he surprisingly wasn’t all that creeped out by the idea. Instead, he felt a weird desire to try and investigate the possibility, like he was performing an experiment or something equally juvenile and ridiculous.

Calling out loudly that he was on his way, he quickstepped over to the couch and slid it out of the way.

He then took a moment to smooth out his fresh robes and double-check his meticulously tousled hair before opening the door a few inches and poking his head out into the hallway.

“Yes?” he asked while his eyes darted around to see if someone had indeed brought him coffee.

Ms. Davis stood there with a smile bordering on a smirk, her hands in front of her waist as if she were the picture of a high-class service professional.

“My lord, apologies for disturbing you, but I wondered if you might have changed your mind. The kitchen staff has an excellent roast chicken recipe they would love to get your opinion on now that you’ve returned home. Are you sure they can’t make you something?” she asked hopefully.

Nero, narrowing his eyes, stuck his head out into the hall a little further. Looking up and down the hallway, he didn’t see anyone else, nor did he see the coffee cart he expected.

Locking eyes with her, he replied calmly, but suspiciously, “No, I’m not… hungry… at the moment.”

Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, and that she thought she knew that he knew what she was thinking, her smile widened. “Perhaps you’d like something else? The kitchen has just brewed a fresh pot of coffee if you’re interested.”

Nero froze, his eyes drilling into her, searching for a hint of weakness, a crack in her professional armor. Sure, he could just ask her, but would she deny it? And if she did deny it, would he believe her? Was this a conspiracy at work, or just a coincidence? Maybe it was a combination of factors, including some form of household magic that he hadn’t been made aware of. There could be any number of reasons why she chose this exact moment to offer him coffee. Or, could it be, she’s just that good?

“That would be wonderful, Ms. Davis. Thank you,” he said woodenly, unwilling to be the one to break.

Still smiling, she offered a short bow while saying, “I’ll go fetch it now, my lord.”

Still half-hiding behind the door, Nero watched her walk away. She neither hurried nor tarried, maintaining her professional demeanor until he lost sight of her around the corner.

Closing the door, Nero’s expanded mind continued to race. The simple, stupid, pointless question of whether or not his household staff had the ability to read his mind in order to better serve him played out across multiple subminds. Each considered possibilities more unlikely than the last. Until he noticed at one point one of them contemplating the likelihood that he’d been implanted with a subdermal mind-reading chip during the first night he’d slept here.

Facepalming hard, Nero’s mind immediately slammed to a halt.

Embarrassed, he walked back over toward what was becoming his preferred couch while thinking to himself, ‘I really need to get a handle on this new brainpower. I can no longer afford to let my mind run wild, the consequences could be disastrous.’

He’d gotten used to being behind enemy lines with multiple things of importance that needed to be kept track of going on all around him. But now that he was back somewhere safe, his mind was desperately looking for things to analyze, causing his normally conspiracy-inclined mind to take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere while doing its damndest to drive him crazy.

What he instead should be doing is practicing his ability to focus and increasing his relevant skill levels.

‘Maybe there is a training program or something online I can sign up for,’ he thought to himself before remembering that the internet wasn’t a thing here… not technically.

Pulling out his link while allowing his ass to drop back down onto the couch, he held it up in front of his face and stared at it. The little piece of magical metal in his hand was so much like a cell phone that he had a moment of nostalgia. More than a few times back on Earth he’d caught himself staring at his phone, lamenting the fact that he spent so much time screwing around on Reddit when he could be using it for it’s intended purpose. From what he understood, the internet was supposed to have been a source of shared knowledge in service of humanity’s advancement, but instead it became a source of carefully distributed propaganda, Gilmore Girls fanfictions, and cat videos… not to mention porn, lots and lots of porn.

“And I’ve been using this to do the same type of pointless crap here,” he admitted to himself quietly.

Hearing a knock at the door, he turned his head to see Ms. Davis leading in a pair of servants, both carrying in trays of coffee and what looked like finger sandwiches. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the link for long enough for her to have returned, but apparently he had.

While the servants placed the trays on the table in front of him, Ms. Davis asked, “Is there anything else you require, my lord?” before adding with a smirk, “Perhaps something from the library? Or would you prefer to look through it over the estate’s Thought Hub?”

Whipping his head around to stare at her, he narrowed his eyes at her in accusation of her not-so-subtle implication that she knew what he’d just been thinking about.

‘This bitch HAS to be fucking with me!’ he thought to himself while gritting his teeth in frustration.

*Chapter 312 - Down time.

*Spoiler - If you've ever been in a high intensity situation for an extended period of time, you'll find returning to normal extremely difficult.  Your brain and instincts have adapted to a particular speed, and without that stress, you mentally go a little bonkers.  I once, for reasons, spent a few weeks in the mountains doing all sorts of intensive things.  When I finally returned to civilization, I ended up standing in front of a sink watching the water flow for long enough that the person who's apartment I was in to come over and ask if I was alright.  I remember blinking in confusion, wondering what they were talking about.  When they told me that I was staring at the water for like a good 5 minutes straight, I remember being totally confused.  In my head, I was just thinking about how amazing it was that we set up running water in all our houses.  I thought it had been just a passing thought, not a full 5 minutes of mental static that shut me down like a misfiring replicant.  I'm not really sure if that demonstrates my point or just makes me seem like an idiot, but either way I know what you're thinking... "Cool story bro"