Chapter 980 – Vacation Week 9 – Classy Guys’ Side


    John waved away some of the cigar smoke that wafted his way. A fruitless gesture, as the majority of the air in the room was already pregnant with the heavy smell. The ventilation in the ceiling ensured that there always was air to breathe, but it seemed adjusted in such a fashion that some smoke always stuck around. Presumably, they kept it as part of the whisky club’s aesthetic.


    Noticing his gesture, Maximillian gave him an amused look. ‘That’s what you should have expected, buddy,’ it seemed to say.


    ‘I did,’ he responded by rolling his eyes.


    “Stop being so bothered by some smoke,” Magnus grumbled into their non-verbal conversation, taking another huff of his cigar.


    “Give me half an hour, I’ll get used to the air poisoning my lungs,” John retorted, while Hera came over and placed the whisky in front of them. Each glass was a work of art, faceted like a diamond and with the establishment’s logo, a cube of marble, engraved on the side. The Gamer took his ice-cold glass and carefully sniffed at it. It had that typical whisky aroma, with a hint of peppermint of all things. He nipped at it and his mouth filled with a refreshing mixture of alcohol, smoke, ebon wood and that particular taste good whisky had. The cooling dice of metal inside the drink clacked when he put it down. “Good choice,” he complimented the bartender.


    “Thank you, Mister President,” Hera said, bowing her head.


    “John will do fine, for the evening,” he told her.


    “Max,” the self-exiled king suavely followed suit, “if it pleases you.” He nipped at the drink and made a delighted sound while swallowing. “This drink definitely pleases me. A fantastic recommendation.”


    Hera was about to respond when the oldest of the three followed the trend in his typical, stern voice, “Magnus. The cigar menu.” He held out his palm and was handed the menu a moment later.


    “Whenever you need something from me, please ring the bell,” she said, pointing at that golden handbell attached to the wall-facing end of their table. Then she bowed, gave Maximillian one last glance, and took her leave.


    “Yo, Magnus, can’t you let a man flirt?” the gravity mage complained.


    The addressed didn’t even think that worthy of a retort, just opened the menu and checked the assortment.


    “What do you even need the cigar menu for?” John investigated. The Fateweaver had brought his own box of five cigars and there was no way he would churn through all of them this night. Even if he was eagerly huffing from the one he had lit up the second they sat down.


    “You never know what rare brands places like this have.” Magnus turned another page. Placing the cigar on the ashtray, he reached out to the empty glasses and pitcher of water in the middle of the table. They had been brought along without even needing to be requested. This was an establishment to taste whisky, not one to get drunk, and many of the little things reflected this.


    Maximillian sighed, likely because he had no girls to talk to anymore. “Alright then, let’s behave appropriately for the surroundings,” he decided. “How is the economy, John?”


    “Pretty good. The first official trade vessel returned from its trip to Europe yesterday,” John responded. “Which will do wonders for our import-export balance.”


    “It does make you less dependent on the empty storages of people coming here to sell,” Maximillian nodded. Whenever someone traded between two points, it was common sense to want to carry something on the way to and on the way back from the destination. Returning with an empty ship meant that half the trip was without profit and merchants were, in no age, known for leaving an opportunity for earnings unclaimed.


    That did mean that wares did leave Fusion, despite them not having a merchant fleet to speak of. The problem was that the pace of export was entirely dictated by importers. Not a situation John considered sustainable for long. “Personally, I hope that additional shipyards will soon be constructed in Miami and Boston. The Hudson Barrier can’t produce the entirety of the Federation’s sea-faring vessels. Not when I need it as the main harbour for our military.”


    “I think you overestimate the importance of ships in modern Abyssal warfare,” Maximillian pointed out. “You can get everywhere via plane. It’s all about striking enemy bases of operation with elite squads and Fateweaving sieges.”


    “That’s President Newman for you,” the Gamer insisted.


    “I am not one of your subjects, so I will refuse there,” the interloper said and relaxedly leaned back in his chair. “Do not mistake that for a lack of respect though, John. I greatly admire you. Truly, you are an incarnation of the potential of your people.” Every compliment by this man made the Gamer feel like the inside of his ear was being brushed with something slimy. “You also seem so terribly nai?ve.”


    “I did let you sit down at this table, so I agree,” John responded flippantly.


    The interloper smiled sourly. “I was referring to your lack of centralized power. Your people need the guidance of a centralized authority, John. You refuse to firmly grasp the reins and direct their efforts to the common good. I’ve followed your exploits with close interest. You are smarter, more driven and more powerful than your subjects. You are a tiger in a world of sheep. Certainly, you should lead them.”


    “Tigers don’t lead sheep, tigers eat sheep.” The Gamer grabbed his whisky glass. “To start with, I don’t agree that the people are sheep. If we go by that analogy, however, I’d be a shepherd’s dog.”


    The man scoffed, furrowing his eyebrows, “A degrading position for someone of your power, is it not?”


    “To watch and direct the herd in their prosperity? I could not disagree more.”


    “You will not be able to enforce their prosperity if you simply watch.”


    “You cannot enforce prosperity, period. Extensive welfare failed in Rome and every system that tries to dictate the perfect citizen inevitably crumbles.” John narrowed his eyes. “Whatever kind of authoritarian hogwash you want to sell me, you will not find me eager to buy. I know my principles and what would break them. Convenience is not among them.”


    “Is it a desire of convenience to create an orderly society in which the best and brightest lead? Where everyone knows their role for the welfare of the state?”


    “The best and brightest do not lead a society in which power is concentrated.” John shook his head. “You want those with the most merit to lead, yes, but you never know who the one with the most merit is or where they come from. Any centralized system to that end will inevitably be faulty. Make the politics too powerful and society itself will be sick.” John emptied his glass. “I think it would be best for you if you left now.”


    The interloper pressed his lips together. Then he smiled and extended his hand. “Perhaps we can discuss this again another time, John.”


    The Gamer looked at the hand. A number of advising voices inside his head all went silent while he reached out to take it. They were all ready to do more than just comment. John and the interloper just shook hands.


    “If you insist on wasting your time,” the Gamer told him. The man rose and left without another word. John waved his hand around as if he had just touched something disgusting.


    “Can’t believe you took his hand,” Maximillian said.


    “Thought it would be the quickest way to get rid of him,” John admitted to his sole reason. “Any idea who that was?”


    Both of the men on the table shook their heads. “Sounded like he was just visiting,” Magnus pointed out. “Didn’t Observe tell you anything?”


    “It was completely blocked,” the Gamer told them, which had both raise an eyebrow. “Whoever that was, he is important...” he sighed. “I’ll look into that tomorrow.”


    All of the girls in his head returned to their own party.