“One hundred percent. Ms. Ward and the Grazish Heir are an item,” Ali confirms.
“And they’re going out.”
“Yup.”
“In public,” I verify.
“And canoodling.”
“Canoodling?”
“PDA. Getting handsy. Making the little spirit pay respects to the mother spirit.”
“That…” I shake my head, refusing to be distracted. “Is it safe?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” Ali retorts.
“Because they killed Phil.”
“He’s not her,” Ali says. “Officially killing the actual delegate is a major no-no. Unofficially, they might go after her, but you heard what Bolo said about anarchy. It might also stop you, boy-o, from coming to Irvina. Anyway, no one’s taking potshots and potentially hitting the Grazish Heir.”
“And why’s that?” I say, only to catch Mikito muttering baka in my direction before returning to her research.
I glance over, but she’s focused on her own notification, so I leave her be. She’s got the job of working out potential vulnerabilities between our enemies—specifically, looking at those who voted against us before. If she can find a few we can convince to not vote against us, even if it means being neutral, that’s as good as a vote for us. After all, while I might think of it as a specific vote, it’s more a dedication of resources. So they’re all already inclined to not paying the System Mana to make any particular vote workable since they’d then be less able to influence the next vote.
In fact, a few planets have been known to not vote at all, abstaining but holding the possibility of using their entire accumulated System-voting Mana at one time as a way to get what they want. Of course, it’s a dangerous game to play since once it’s all used up, their bullet is wasted. And there’s always the danger of conquest… but some still dare.
“Because he’s the Heir,” Ali says slowly and clearly.
“You keep saying that…”
Ali throws up his hand. “Listen to me carefully. Grazish. Heir.”
I open my mouth to scold Ali, but that’s when the damn library in my head kicks off. I don’t fade out, I don’t lose sense of my surroundings. But I still get the download.
Heirs. A special Class within the System. Not always guaranteed to be given, not always available. And it is, in many cases, a crappy Class. It doesn’t give you Skills for combat or even Artisan-type Skills. It is, however, extremely useful for survivability. The three pillars of the Heir Class revolve around survival Skills: increases in attributes, increases in resistances and immunities to poison and the like; networking Skills including Aura Skill’s and Reputation bonus upgrades; and retribution Skills.
Like the penultimate Skill of the Basic Class under the retribution side for the Grazish Heir.
No Insult Unpaid (Level 1)
A Grazish does not condone insults. He does not allow those who have stained his honor or offered harm to him or his personnel to escape without retribution. Only proper recompense will see the ending of the feud with the Grazish. Mana Regeneration decreased by 5 permanently.
Effect: An Insult Marker is applied to each individual who insults or otherwise provokes the Grazish Heir. Each Insult Marker decreases cost of tracking spells, information purchases, and retributive Skills by 20%. Mark may only be dismissed by the Heir or those of higher Status than the Grazish Heir.
“And the Grazish are…?”
“Old money, as you humans might say,” Ali says. “Powerful private corporation with its own Guild, security force, and Leveling teams. They keep things in-house for the most part, leveling the heirs—capital H or not—in safety, then they switch over Classes when they’ve hit the required Level.” Ali shrugs. “At least, some of them. Some take a more active part in their own Leveling.”
I see the threat this can create. Getting rid of a Marker like this must be difficult, and if they’re old enough money, they’re just as likely to kill those who insult them as listen to excuses. Scorched earth tactics are a favorite of the old families, especially against contractors. It helps keep things civilized.
I frown. “Why is she dating him?”
“Nice thighs?” Ali offers.
“Butt,” Mikito corrects. Then tilts her head as she considers the picture. “Thighs are pretty good too.”
“Seriously.”
Ali drops the humor, flicking his fingers. A picture of Earth shows up, then it shifts. Small flags appear all across the globe as he continues. “Those cities have all special sponsored links from the Grazish corporation to the default Shop. As well as sponsored ads and sales prices for direct System-bought items.”
“They can lower the cost via sponsorship?” I say, surprised.
Another flicker of Ali’s fingers, and this time, small containers appear across the globe. Not as many by far, but some are in the middle of the ocean, surprisingly enough.
“Teleport and storage locations. If you get them close enough and provide the right kind of tech, you can lower teleport cost from the System.”
“Smart,” I praise.
Ali nods. “The Grazish corporation was the one that came up with the idea and exploited it, building out their teleport platforms near the start of the System. Since then, they’ve kept their first mover advantage.”
“So you think he’s helping her? Letting her meet who she needs in public while ostensibly ‘dating’ her?”
Ali nods.
I consider the possibilities. If they’re in public, there’ll be more eyes on them. At the same time, the Heir is rich enough that their social schedule will likely be extra secure. That’s the thing about the capital—everyone’s so used to clandestine meetings, most upscale locations have their own safe rooms. Never mind the more downscale ones I’ve used before.
And it might be safer to meet them in public than try to do so at their residence. That’s definitely going to be watched.
“Find out their social schedule. We’ll try to do a meetup that way,” I say.
In the meantime, while the others work on the problem for Earth, I focus my attention on the Council. The inner Council of the Galactic Council, the nine (or so) permanent seats that make up the ruling council. They run everything on a day-to-day basis and they’re the ones most likely to view me as a problem.
Nine individuals. Of the major political factions in the System, only the Galactic Edge and Artisans have seats as a faction. The Truinnar sit for the Galactic Edge—the expansionist group—while an old Nang Mai sits for the Artisans. The tree-like humanoid creature is one of the longest-serving members of the Council, and probably could hold his position by sheer virtue of strength and reputation alone if he sought it.
Neither the Traditionalists nor the Fist hold position on the council as a faction. You could say it’s a weakness of their own philosophies. Or just an argument about how long they’ve been around as factions, requiring them not to have a grouped “bloc” to give them strength.
On top of that, we’ve got the Erethran and Movana representatives who are just that—representatives.
Of the remaining five, they sit on the council as independents, powers in themselves or for the planets they rule.
The Weaver is one. His body is bloated in the picture I’ve got, but his eyes—seven eyes on his face, another two that rise on tentacles from his forehead—draw attention. Fingers, long and nimble, twist and twitch, spasm in never-ending movement. Rumors are that he weaves fates in his fingers constantly, altering destines of peasants and Legendarys with as much disregard.
The Lady of Shadows, she who few dare name, is another. Their intelligence asset, their Legendary spymaster. There are too many stories about her, many conflicting. Even her gender is in dispute, for information on one whose entire Class is focused upon cloaking and information dispersal cannot be trusted. Not even in the smallest detail.