Slumrat Rising

Truth thought about it a bit longer. He could sort of see what they were getting at. The conversion process, at least while he was working for Starbrite, took years to be fully effective. Or, at least, for a complete personality change, which was probably the only indication the job was done.

He really tried not to think about Harmony. About the brother he worked his ass off to get into C-Tier and equipped with the System. Six years. Long time to be under.

The mountainside was filled with the soft sounds of nature. The elders from Siphios sat quietly, content for him to think things through. They had taken his measure, all of them. There was the occasional sip of coffee, a bite of fruit, and that was enough.

Poison the souls of the soon to be dead with a spirit of rebellion. Make them believe in something so hard that it turned their souls into something indigestible to the System. There should be a gap there, one closing quickly. Now was the exact moment to start inserting these public ideals. Before would have been even better, but it simply couldn’t be any later. Once the ideas that Starbrite wanted implanted were set, they were practically impossible to dislodge.

Then there was the issue of the… he called it the Planetary Curse. That forbiddance of empathy beyond a certain point. Convincing people that a life organized around individualistic greed and self satisfaction was the only real option. He could spread fury and rebellion but what was the positive case? We are against Starbrite, and for… feudal Jeon? The return of the Holy King and his Virtuous Ministers?

He had been to Siphios. He wasn’t impressed with the standards of governance. Better than the Ressilaud Free State, still not what you would call good. Not to mention the last king of Jeon famously overdosed on convenience store dick pills. That tends to take the shine off monarchy.

“I assume you have an ideological programme prepared to go with this “spontaneous people’s revolution.”

“Oh yes. Wonderfully detailed, with lots of explanatory pamphlets and catchy songs set to popular tunes.” Merkovah said.

Truth fell back into silence for a moment. It all came down to the gambler’s mentality. “I’ve already lost so much, I can’t stop gambling now. I have to win it all back!” There was a term for it, but he’d forgotten it.

“What do you call it when you have already put so much money into something, you feel like you have to keep pouring money into it even if it’s a loser?”

“Sunk cost fallacy.” The old lady supplied.

“Yeah. This whole plan hinges on Starbrite getting sunk cost fallacy. No revolution ever swept everyone up in its ideology. You don’t even need a majority. You just need a big enough, organized block that is energetic, loud, and violent enough to pick off the smaller blocks and make the rest fall in line.” Truth started working it out on his fingers.

“You already have the hundreds of thousands direct Starbrite employees and their families dead set against you. Include subsidiaries and dependent industries and the number rises into the millions. I’d say you have lost a quarter of the country before you even got started. They aren’t persuadable. Then you have the government and the army, who don’t want someone else trying to eat off their plate. Then you have the scared people who just want tomorrow to be like yesterday, and know damn well it won’t be. They just want to be safe, and that’s not a revolution. At this point, you just have the desperate and angry.”

Truth shrugged. “If you could get the rich in on it, convince them they will eat better if everyone is mad at Starbrite, then maybe. I’ve been laying the groundwork for insurrections all over the country. It would certainly screw up the internal security situation. But persuading the whole nation of Jeon to… what? Align their souls with concepts contrary to Starbrite’s goals, somehow, to starve the beast?”

He shook his head. He’d have to figure out something on his own. But first, that library.

There was a whiff of rat. Truth’s mind started racing. He whipped his head around to Merkovah, and his eyes squinted into a glare. He slid the glare over the rest of the room.

“No. No, I don't think so. Some random shit I can put together after thinking for two minutes was obvious to you before you even walked into this room. Obvious months or years ago. You either think I’m dumb enough to go for your idea uncritically, which I can’t believe Merkovah would let you think, or you want me to give lip service to the idea, half ass the parts of it I actually find useful and then… something. This is a distraction, for both Jeon and me. And somehow, you roped in Merkovah. Thanks for the coffee, it was spectacular.”

Truth shoved back his little stool and stood. Everyone else rose with him, waving him back down, calling on him to stay.

“I told them it wouldn’t work. They insisted.” Merkovah smiled slightly, cheerfully throwing the others under the wagon.

“Bullshit.” Truth’s mind raced ahead. “Playing for the world after the fall. Siphios’ whole technology base is built around demon binding. Worse than Jeon, even, because a lot of the technology that goes into industrial manufacturing can be adapted to non-magical things. Making tables and chairs and things. Casting steel. You want the country broken, so that whatever happens later, they won’t have a technological edge.”

There was a startled silence in the room.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“I have spent a lot of time walking around, looking at things and thinking. Putting pieces together. International terrorism has really broadened my horizons. I am eager to see what I will learn as an international secret agent.”

“Operative.” The old lady said, distracted by her own thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“Employees of the Service are Officers. Agents are Officers employed overseas. Operatives are people employed to work on a specific operation, and not necessarily agency employees. You would be an independent contractor, and therefore an operative.”

Truth reckoned he was okay with being a secret operative. It lacked that dash of romance provided by the word “agent,” but added a hint of militarism and danger.

Merkovah sniggered. “They know how you have been using Incisive, but it runs so counter to how most people use Incisive that they are struggling to adapt.”

“Eh? I’m using it as intended, though?”

“Are you? It’s a spell that lets you impose your will on the world and mentally warp the people around you into being more biddable and pleasing to you. Does this sound like a spell used by low-ambition types? Or would it be used by Prince types?”

“Why did you teach it to me, then?”

“Because it is the perfect tool for a clandestine operative, and I figured your low self esteem would benefit from the ego-boosting nature of the spell. Properly guided.” Merkovah shrugged.

“And if it turned me into a monster, it would do it when I was safely deployed in Jeon.”

“Don’t think so poorly of me. I have had a long time to watch those who learn the spell. They really do fall into the routes of snake or swordsman. You went snake. Botis even blessed you with a vision of himself as the grand serpent. You weren’t going to be a megalomaniac.” The old man shook his head, shooting a crooked smile at the old lady. She had suggested Truth learn more of the swordsman path- the Lord of Hell.

“You… are not completely wrong in your assessment, but you aren’t entirely right either. Yes, we want to break Jeon. Frankly, every country is going to be varying degrees of broken, Siphios most assuredly included.” The ambassador’s voice was smooth and somber.

“Our desire to see Jeon utterly shattered is partially out of self defense and partially out of revenge. We have all lost many, many people to Starbrite, and having to face their gloating pawns in Jeon after each loss…”

He shook his gray head.

“The symbolic parallels between hate and venom are well established. We don’t need you to create a coherent popular revolt. Just hatred. Turn a symbol of national pride into one of national loathing. Your work with MegaShroom was downright inspired. We have ordered our other operatives to adopt the same tactic elsewhere.” The old woman’s voice was harder than her husband’s. Her eyes were too.

“None of this puts Starbrite’s head on a stick.” Truth shrugged. Maybe he could rope in Merkovah for a private chat. This conversation was going nowhere.

“No?” Merkovah smiled beatifically. “The chaos is already putting such a strain on their systems, we are learning secrets we had chased for decades. Getting people in places they could never have reached before. The more pressure we put on the more cracks we can make, the deeper we infiltrate. The more pressure we put directly on Starbrite, the more gaps he will show. And if we directly poison his food, turn his harvest against him…”

“Logical but uncertain. I will think about it. That book, Teacher?” Truth set down his cup.

“It will be waiting for you, as will a small selection of spells I had couriered over, in another conference room. I will keep the golem active, just so we can chat about them as you make your selection. Before that, though, the third cup.”

“Eh?”

“The ritual calls for at least three cups.” The old lady smiled. Truth quietly admired her. The conversation hadn’t gone how she wanted, but she could still move with grace.

She refilled the pot with fresh water. The grounds were the same ones that went in at the start of the ritual. She brought it to just under a boil, and poured it into the cups. “This one you really should add sugar to. Add at least one big spoonful. I like three, but I have a sweet tooth.”

Truth did as instructed. It was thin. Light. The flavors had changed and evolved. All the funk and rumbling basso had left the cup, as had most of the bitterness. The remaining bitter and sweet combined to elevate the faint fruit left. It was utterly different from the first cup. If the first cup was like an explosion, the last was like a warm breeze at your back. Lifting you up and carrying you forward.

“The third cup is called the blessing. It represents my wishes for your safe travels and safe return.” She really did have a wonderful smile. “Do you like the view from this mountain?”

Truth looked out. It was beautiful. Truly. The green forests waved in the wind. Not too hot, not too cold. Colorful birds flitted around joyfully, and the sky had a depth of blue he had only ever seen in Siphios. It wasn’t paradise, but it was close enough.

“I really do.”

“Good. It’s where I’m building your house.” She sniffed. “Well. Having it built. I’m not directing the demons in person, obviously.”

“Pardon?!”

“You have been, unquestionably, our single most effective operative in the last century. Quite possibly ever. You have inflicted horrifying losses on our most hated enemies. Enemies who have personally cost me more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than I like to count. Merkovah was buying some prefabricated nonsense.”

“It was top of the line! Seamless insulation and a sixty year roof, no magic required!”

“Naturally I had to step in. It is a rare thing. Constructed to operate without magic. There is a well with a pump you can operate with a lever. That took some figuring out, let me tell you! Thick insulation, warm, solid slate roof, a stove that can burn wood or charcoal, trapped safely in an iron box with a solid brick chimney. The grounds are being carefully fertilized and planted with fruit bushes and trees. Even if you tend it rarely, it will form its own little ecosystem. There is a little pasture for goats, well fenced.” She jutted her chin out proudly.

“Much better than Merkovah’s shack. And lots of room for babies, of course. Whatever you chose, remember. There is a home waiting for you. Whether you stay or go off world, kill Starbrite or fail utterly, there is a home waiting for you. You are wanted there. So go walk your bloody road, young man. But see to it that you wipe your feet well before you return to Siphios. You deserve a happy ending, and it’s waiting for you in our mountains. If you want it.”

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