Chapter 481

Mark floated easily on the wind over the skies of New Tokyo, belly full, buoyed by Isoko’s Shaping and by her presence. He smiled a little as he said, “That was good food.”“I’m glad I suggested it, too,” Isoko easily replied.

Mark snorted.

The two of them were flying, in a roundabout sort of way, toward Wandering Castle, somewhere over there in the distance. Neither of them were going fast. Neither of them wanted to go fast. Isoko floated next to Mark in the dark sky with one leg extended and the other pulled back, arms to her sides and gently pressing down, like she was swimming in clear waters. She kinda was. It was an easy sort of look, to go along with the easy look in her eyes. It clashed with her actual thoughts, though, hidden from most of the world, but not from Mark.

Mark hadn’t really noticed it until now. He had been busy. And then he had crashed after realizing that he had killed a lot of people and Isoko had rescued him from worry by filling his belly with good food. With a bit of distance from his own issues, Mark saw Isoko’s problems clearer.

Mark said, “I’m sorry for not noticing your own pain.”

Isoko barked a laugh. And then she smiled, saying, “Thanks, but I’m doing… I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to acknowledge any of it, either.” She lost her smile and shook her head. “It’s gonna be a war.” And then, as if preparing to rip off a bandage, Isoko said, “I don’t want a war, Mark.”

“I don’t want a war, either.”

Isoko tried not to be too serious as she seriously asked, “I know you said that earlier, but… I know you, Mark.”

“I mean… I did. Yes, I did. Dominant deserves to die and I want to kill him, and that means a war, and yet...” Mark organized some of his thoughts and explained, “War is going to be horrible. Worse than what we all just went through. I don’t want to kill people like that ever again, though I am absolutely sure that I will have to do exactly that, over and over and over again, maybe for the rest of my life—”

“It won’t be like that?” Isoko interrupted, to stop Mark from going in that direction because she did want to follow. “You’re just going to be an Inheritor. It doesn’t mean… That.”

There was a lot to talk about, from the Reset Quest, to the war, to Dominant, to everything that was needed to survive any and all of that. It was all too much. Too large to think or do anything about here and now in this cold Earth sky. But they could talk about it. They could try to organize of their feelings.

Mark decided to say, “This whole Skilling thing I’m doing has so many different outcomes to it, and we haven’t seen any of them at all. I’ve Skilled like 65-ish people total with some combination of True Brawny, Telekinesis, and something else. They just need some healers, some support, and some wildcards, and each and will be kaiju killers. The healers are being handled by the Church of Freyala, I’m sure, though we haven’t directly talked about that, but people are already lining up to get with those true powerhouses. I saw some of it when I was Skilling people. Most of it will happen way, way out there, far beyond any of my sight or control.

“I’ve made something like 200 true powerhouses, in total. Most of them today. Some of them in the last week.

“It takes 7 true powerhouses to garrison a normal settlement or a small city. We have something like 10,000 in the world right now, but I just increased that number by a full 2% Isoko. I’m pulling numbers out of my ass right now, but they’re close enough.

“Maybe if I make enough people capable of holding their own against Okuana, then maybe we can blockade them back, or something… I’m not a strategy guy.” Mark added, “All I know is that if we have enough people capable of ripping apart ships and intercepting missiles and stuff, then there with Okuana anymore, because they won’t try shit.

“And sure there will be assassinations, but eventually even the assassinations will stop, because we’re going to out-civilization them.”

Isoko nodded a little, thoughts a million miles away, vector and shoulders relaxing.

Mark continued, “So I think the best thing I can do for the world is to make powerhouses and… and as much as it pains me not to help out the little guys because was a little guy, I think I need to not do any of that anymore, unless I get like… a real solid case. Someone, well… like me. Which is weird to say.” Mark didn’t understand why he felt uncomfortable talking about Skilling people like himself, so he moved on, adding, “But the point is that I don’t think there will be a war; not at the rate I’m going with this Skilling.”

Isoko asked, “Do you to be a tactics guy?”

“… What?”

“We’re stuck in these contracts with Aluatha for a few more years, but… like, your apprenticeship to Walaria will be life-long. Okuana will never stop gunning for you. People next to you will get hurt, a lot. So… You said you weren’t a tactics guy, but you’re talking about moving in circles that determine how the world works, so you to be a tactics guy. It’s use or be used, Mark.”

“Okay, so… what do you suggest?”

Isoko said, “Let’s go find that guy, Devo Stone, from Aluatha. He’s Visionary, Battle Manipulation, and Strategist, right? He’ll know what Okuana is up to, and he might even have a good idea of what kind of stuff the world needs right now. I would suggest, as a matter of course, that you do as he asks but only as you want, and you make sure he knows that’s how it goes.”

It was good advice, but… Mark had felt that Devo was rather easy to get along with when he Skilled the dude. He wasn’t… whatever Isoko was getting at.

Mark said, “I think Devo is the kind of guy I can trust to be a soldier, looking out for other soldiers, and not whatever kind of politics thing you think he’s into.”

Isoko stressed, “I’m not talking about politicians, Mark. Politicians have to work to get elected by the people who vote for them. General Devo Stone, of the nation of Rocktower inside of Aluatha, is a .”

“Okay. Yeah. I get it... You wanna do that with me? Go talk to Devo? Not…” Mark angled his gaze toward the northwest, where Wandering Castle was probably one of those pinpricks of light on a distant mountain’s slope. “Go home for the night?”

“I talked to Grandma on the phone when you were Skilling. We can go home tomorrow morning. Let’s go find that General.”

“Quark?” Mark asked.

Quark spoke up, “General Devo Stone is currently located at the Imperial Hotel, south of the Imperial Palace, at the hotel bar. He is at a get-together of minor political importance, and he is receiving guests. The event is invitation only and formal dress, and the entire district is having a party on the streets in celebration of the blockade breaking and of the resurrection of Yokosuka’s people. Shall I request an invitation?”

Mark had a sudden instinctual desire to be , which was weird as fuck because Mark had been through a big battle and he had done the Winter Ball a few weeks ago, and so he belonged anywhere he wanted to belong. But if he went to the Imperial Hotel bar wearing his current superhero costume, then they would probably accept him as he was, but he would also get swamped.

And this was a party on Earth.

This was New Tokyo, the land of superheroes and big world events that Mark had always looked up to as a bastion of the best of humanity. Mark might be brushing elbows with Glorious Man in a social setting, and that would be weird as fuck. He’d also be seeing some politicians who propped up all the superheroes; people who were truly good… or at least as good as could get. Aluatha, by comparison, had tried to fuck Mark over more than once. Aluatha’s animosity was a lot easier to think about and work around than being around actual good superheroes, who were .

… Mark looked to Isoko.

Isoko seemed to be having much the same reaction as him.

Mark asked, “It’s silly for us to be scared of going there, right?”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a party like that, Mark.”

It was not a joke. Isoko was dead fucking serious.

“We can find clothes,” Mark countered.

“It’s the Imperial Hotel! The entire Imperial Quarter is formal on formal. Grandma warned me never to go there without 3 days of prep unless I wanted to make a fool of myself...” Isoko took a breath, squared her shoulders, and said, “We’re going. Let’s go. I need the best damn dress money can buy.”

Mark told Quark, “Request an invite, Quark, and where can we buy some formal attire?”

Quark beep-booped, and then said, “Devo Stone’s secretary is penciling us in for 45 minutes from now, if that’s acceptable. Otherwise we can go right now. And certain people are exempt from formal dress requirements. You are on that list. Your costume is acceptable.”

Isoko instantly told Mark, “.”

Mark said, “We’re going in formal clothes.”

Quark said, “Here is a list of places that sell high-class fashion to clients…”

Mark and Isoko got going, back the way they came.

They passed by Crystal Tower again, to the north of the Imperial District, and it was kinda still amazing to Mark, in all the ways that places can be amazing. The spire of white/blue crystal reached into the sky and sparkled with an inner light that wasn’t visible in the day, but which, at night, was visible like the color of pre-dawn light. The rest of the place down below and ahead was all manner of towers and golden lights and red hovercar bumper lights flowing in traffic on the streets and in the low skies.

The Imperial Palace was a monument to a different age, all large and low and mostly filled with open space. The roofs had those angles and tiles that you only ever saw in Japan, set within green gardens and open paths. The whole thing was a relic, nestled into an otherwise massive, major city.

Mark and Isoko kept out of traffic, guided by Quark, to land on one of several landing zones for flying heroes.

It was currently March 15th, 2050, Tuesday, and the moon was half-illuminated in the bright, clear sky, while the city rose all around like an ancient stone forest of business and politics. It had all been built with an eye to the past, with angled roofs with tiles, and with bright, solid lights. No neon. Nothing that modern, at least not on the surface. The were modern as heck; Mark was absolutely sure that there was even an underground kinda city down there, both because he had seen the movies about that place, and he felt people down there, tens of meters below the surface. Down there it was surely crowded, but up here the streets were open, evacuation signs illuminated here and there, but not flashing at all. If Mark wanted to visit Under Tokyo, he could take one of those evacuation routes down there, deep into the concrete jungle and fake sunlights. But up here, it was all open.

The city had left room for nature in this open space. Big trees grew here and there, twisting in the light, illuminated from below with spotlights, all gnarled and pretty, but contained to spaces beyond the foot traffic, and there was a lot of foot traffic.

Hundreds of people were out on the streets, many of them in suits or pantsuits, men and women, most of them a little drunk or a little high, if they were so inclined. It was a subdued, professional kind of party, most of the happenings happening beyond sight, in the buildings all around and in the happy voices laughing and talking as people moved from party to party. Karaoke was big in some parts, and some guys were singing in the streets, having come from one of those interior parties.

People instantly spotted Mark and Isoko, firstly because Mark was so damned tall, and then came recognition a moment later. Mark expected to get mobbed, and he kinda was, but this was a professional place and so they only got mobbed a little bit. Mark didn’t speak Japanese, but now was a great time to try and Understand it all, so he got to doing that as he walked down to the Imperial Hotel, with Isoko at his side. He signed four autographs, which was rather minimal, but he did have three people cry on him and then kowtow, which was also completely out of place, but which Mark had seen in the movies so it wasn’t too surprising.

It was surprising that it was happening to him, though.

Sure, Mark was already famous, but this… this felt different, somehow. This was New Tokyo; that was the difference.

People got out their phones and made little posts on various media and Mark smiled and shook hands, and it felt nice. He had saved the city, they said, and Mark eventually understood that in Japanese and started speaking to them back in broken Japanese, saying he was glad to be here, which most people were extremely joyful to hear him speak their language. And then some important-seeming woman with a pair of bodyguards started sobbing tears of joy, talking about how she had lost her brother to ‘Green Death Ecology in Okuana 20 years ago’ and she hated them ever since. But now all the world was seeing those people for who they really were, and she was so happy that Mark was here, telling the truth of it all.

Quark marked that woman as Yuma Otsu, a member of the House of Representatives. She was currently serving her 17th year, having been reelected for a 4th time just recently. She was a known very-vocal supporter of the Hero/Villain Program.

Mark bowed to Representative Yuma and said in perfect Japanese, “I look forward to working with New Tokyo to herald the end of the Tyrant Godking.”

Yuma bowed furiously and when she came back up it was with tears in her eyes. “Thank you for everything, Mark Careed, Blackvein.”

It took Mark and Isoko 30 minutes to walk 1 kilometer, to the back of the Imperial Hotel, to some clothing store that specialized in getting people ready for big meetings, fast. Mark paid the people 33,500 goldleaf for outfits for both him and Isoko, and mostly for Isoko. Soon he was in a black suit with a tie, while Isoko wore a slinky, sparkly silver dress. Mark had no idea why it was so expensive, but it looked good and she was happy with it, and that’s what mattered.

While the two sellers were bowing in the background, Mark looked at himself and Isoko in the mirror and thought this was good enough.

“Ready?” Mark asked in Japanese.

Isoko had gotten more and more professional as they walked here, as they got ready. She stood, back straight, eyes forward, vector focused, as she spoke in Japanese, “Ready.”

An AI-guarded door stood between the clothier’s business and the Imperial Hotel. The clothiers vaguely, demurely, warned Mark and Isoko that the guard might take a minute to review their information, but that they absolutely would be turned away due to lack of formal dress.

The door opened before Mark fully stood before the door.

Mark thanked the clothiers and then walked through into the Imperial Hotel with Isoko on his arm. The streets outside were crowded, the businesses out there having a big night, and it was no different here at the Imperial Hotel, but the clientele here were of a very specific variety.

There was a secondary guard, right beyond the door.

Mark recognized this guard as the same guy who was guarding Jessie Stills’ platform at the Virgin Social at the Winter Ball, because of course it was. Surrounded by softly-gold alabaster walls and thick square pillars, under soft lights and near wooden surfaces and tables and chairs, the elite of New Tokyo and Jessie Stills’ entourage of 250-ish people mingled and drank. Aluatha had bought out the entire hotel. The Imperial Hotel took up practically an entire city block.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

And then Mark recognized Cade Waterson.

Cade bowed a little, recognition passing through him as he actually saw Mark, in person, and so he said, “If we knew you wanted to come to this, we would have personally invited you.”

“I didn’t even know I wanted to be here until an hour ago,” Mark said, as the door shut behind them and the two clothiers had a little screeching-in-joy moment once they were out of sight. Mark barely heard that joy over the soft instrumentals flowing through the air of the Imperial Hotel. “Seems like a happening place.”

“Didn’t know Aluatha bought out the place until 30 minutes ago, either,” Isoko commented, eyes on a swivel. “Is Jessie safe?”

“Quite so, Miss Kanno,” Cade said. “He completed the resurrections 10 hours ago, and he just woke back up from a nap. The final count for revived persons is at 65,316. So only several thousand are missing.”

Mark and Isoko spotted Jessie at almost the same time.

Jessie was way over there, past several large pillars and beside his father, Hank, both of them dressed in suits and ties. Jessie was talking with some girl, and from his vector it was not a sexual thing, but an… intrigue about mysteries? Mark wasn’t sure about that, but it seemed good.

“About the same percentage of resurrection failures as in Memphi, yes?” Isoko asked.

“About the same.”

Mark asked, “How is Jessie doing, exactly? He seems to be getting along with his situation better?”

Cade bowed a little, again, and then he walked into the party, into the wide open spaces between the tables and the various gatherings. Mark and Isoko walked with him, and Mark spotted a whole lot of the people he had Skilled today, and most of them rapidly spotted him, in turn.

Cade said, “Jessie is doing as well as can be managed. He has a standing request for a Dynamo. Can I request you complete that request tonight?”

“Oh yeah!” Mark said, “He did want that… yes. I have 30 of them right now.” Quark spotted Devo Stone before Mark did, marking the General in Mark’s eyesight to the far left, past a few different pillars. He wasn’t visible right now but when Mark took a few more steps he spotted the guy. The General was surrounded by people. Mark told Cade, “Let’s do Dynamo for Jessie first, then I have an appointment with Devo Stone.”

Cade nodded professionally, leading the way back toward Jessie.

It was a bit of a walk, though, so Mark asked, “How are feeling these days, Cade?”

“Very well, sir.”

That wasn’t the whole story, but it was the socially acceptable one.

Mark nodded a little.

And then Jessie spotted them and his eyes went wide and he sighed and relaxed, and spoke in Japanese to the woman he was talking to, “Apologies, but I have to take this appointment.”

The woman and the two guys she was with all bowed a little and stepped away.

Mark said, “Hey, Jessie. I heard you finished the resurrections.”

“And I hear you got to be a giant fuck-off dragon,” Jessie said, frowning a little, sounding way too jealous.

Mark couldn’t help himself as he blurted out, “It’s fucking weird to talk to you sometimes. Why does it matter that I was a dragon for a bit— and I , by the way. I just manhandled a self-created kaiju and then steered it around. Totally different.”

“Well it like you were a dragon. And yeah, I’m jealous! I got Cade over here ready to wipe my ass if I needed it because I can’t even defend myself from a goblin. Not even talking about Goblinhome goblins. So you got that Dynamo I want?”

“Why the talk of goblins aga— You know what? I don’t need to know. Hold on—” Mark was ready to get on with it… but then he grinned. “Go ahead and punch me.”

“Fuck no I ain’t breaking my goddamned hand on your stupid fucking chiseled jaw. Why the hell is your face so damned pretty, anyway? You make yourself look like that?”

What was happening right now?

Mark countered, “You want a True Brawny? Maybe you’d get a better face with one of those slotted, too, but then you’d never be able to cast spells, so Dynamo would be a waste.”

Cade reluctantly, but strongly, said, “We cannot risk the mutation of his Resurrection into something else, sir.”

Jessie flipped Cade off, only talking to Mark, saying, “Yeah yeah, fuck you both for different reasons. Rub it in my face why don’t you. Come on. Give me Dynamo already. I know that noble family of whoever-the-fucks gave it to you to giveto, so stop holding out.”

… Mark did not need this animosity in his life right now.

Mark poked Jessie’s chest, falling into dream—

Mark paused as he saw Jessie unfurled in the air above the black grasses of his soulhouse.

He had never been inside of Jessie until now, and honestly, he was kinda expecting to find a trap. Jessie’s whole ‘Resurrection Ghost’ story was a lie told by the governments of the Central Cities and then spread out to the rest of the Two Worlds in order to lay the reasoning for the Ghost at the hands of ‘some unknown person’, instead of where the honor really lay, which was at the feet of the Cult of Thrashtalon. No one wanted Thrashtalon to have a win, though, and so, , Jessie Stills existed.

Jessie seemed like a real person on the outside, and also on the inside, as Mark pulled him apart a little on the black grasses of his soulhouse.

“… A real fucking Power, huh,” Mark muttered to himself.

He was surprised.

It was real.

Resurrection was real.

Resurrection was a funny thing to look at from inside. From the outside it was all fractal and white, but from the inside it was like standing at soft shores at a riverside beach where the waters came inward, inward, always inward. The headwaters lay deep in a fractal infinity, in the dream, but the exit was here, at Jessie, and yeah, that made a whole lot of sense.

Jessie pretty much pulled souls together from way, way out there, bringing them back to life, to a body, here, at these gentle shores. The shores also had some capability to turn matter into living flesh, too, which was a part of the complications of the whole idea of Resurrection. Honestly, there were a lot of complications here, and Mark only understood the surface of Resurrection.

… Mark glanced at Jessie’s core Binding memory, expecting to see something fake, or something dangerous. Maybe even something goblin-related. Jessie did mention goblins twice around Mark, after all. And yeah. There was a goblin there, of sorts.

Jessie was 13 years old and writing a story about a superhero who had died, bitten by a goblin, and who came back to life as the goblin.

… Mark didn’t look further into that, at all, leaving it exactly as he found it as he gathered up Dynamo, preparing it for slotting into Jessie’s current Arcane Power of Resurrection.

Dynamo was Natural, and kinda reminded Mark of his own ‘water wheel’ invention he had taken out of Union and replicated all across his soul, back when he was under attack from Wongod, like 10 months ago. Mark’s bastardization of his own Union had been sort of like the Dynamo he saw right now, but Dynamo was more fluid. More… infinite, Mark would say, especially as he gazed upon Jessie’s weird Resurrection-from-infinity-thing he had going on here.

Instead of a waterwheel, though, Dynamo was a shifting of power, like a mirror-prism capable of tuning any light it needed to tune. Why did Mark call Dynamo a prism? Well it was kinda reflection-y, he supposed, but it was also a filter and a tuner, all at the same time.

Natural Powers were weird as fuck. A lot of them had parts that were analogous to the Sigaldry that Mark had learned almost a year ago, but a lot of them simply would not survive in the real world because they were literal dreams, and not anything similar to ‘shapes you could make with your hands’.

Arcane Powers, however, were all specific spells, solidified strongly enough that they were always usable as long as the user had mana left to use those Powers.

Even Resurrection’s weirdness with the infinite river flowing inward from all the dream was like a ritual enacted upon Jessie’s body. Much like Necromancer, it had hookups for a whole bunch of stuff, from mana filters to make bodies, to stuff that reflected the interior of a target’s soul and brought that stuff to the outside… maybe. It was . Mark couldn’t understand it all that well, but he saw parts of it he recognized from other stuff he had studied… and he probably shouldn’t linger in here too long, actually.

Whatever was going on with the various jumbled magical languages inside Jessie’s soul (some of which were clearly unknown to Mark) Mark felt that Dynamo would go very well together with Resurrection. Dynamo would go well with any Arcane Power, actually.

So Mark planted the prism of Dynamo on the beach that was Jessie’s Resurrection.

Mark had no control over whatever memory appeared at the center of the Powers he put into people, but he was still able to look at them before he exited them, if he wanted. This time, he lingered and he looked.

The memory that appeared at the center of Dynamo was a memory of Jessie waking up, fully rested, sun barely above the horizon out beyond his window, and knowing, , that he was ready for everything and anything the day could throw at him.

Mark pulled out.

He had been under for less than a minute.

Jessie blinked, waking up strongly from his half-nap.

Cade and Isoko and a few other people stood to the side, watching.

Mark asked Jessie, “Feeling good?”

Jessie breathed deep and his vector filled out, like he was brimming with energy, eyes widening, and then relaxing. With surprise in his voice, Jessie said, “Yeah I feel… really good?”

Everyone nearby was watching. Some people from far away were watching, too, stepping up onto the sides of chairs to see over the gathered crowd. Cade and Isoko and a few glaring soldiers kept everyone from approaching too much.

Mark gave a rundown of Dynamo like he did for everyone who got the Power today, saying, “Dynamo is a Natural Power. It can do a lot more than give you nearly infinite mana. A word of warning: Not needing to sleep is common for Dynamos and others, but be aware that sleeping is necessary to remain sane, for all peoples. Even Dynamos can experience Dragon-Wake-like symptoms if they never sleep.”

“Cade warned me about Dragon Wake,” Jessie said, kinda flippantly, looking at his hands. Flickers of glowing white energy passed down his hands for a moment, then he stopped. “Aluatha is taking good care of its Resurrection-Bot.”

… Mark could have walked away after that, but instead he frowned a little, and said, “If you want a rescue from this life then tell me now. If you want to give up your Power to someone else, I can do that, too. But you saved 65,000 lives today, Jessie. That’s amazing. You should be proud.”

Cade was carefully still.

Hank, however, smiled and stepped forward, saying, “He should be proud! He did a great thing!”

Jessie frowned and glared at Mark, a real hate bubbling inside of his heart. “I didn’t get to be a giant fuck off dragon. All I am is some stupid long-armed white ghost.”

Mark was thrown for yet another loop. “Resurrection is fucking amazing…” He admitted, again, “It’s so fucking weird to talk to you.”

Cade remained carefully still. Eyes forward. Vector on a swivel.

Isoko asked Jessie, “You wanna give up your Power? Get a different set?”

But Jessie scoffed at both Mark and Isoko. “Those fuckers won’t allow it. They’re too scared it’s going to mutate in the hands of another.”

Mark admitted, “I bet I get a call from Walaria later asking me if I can safely remove it.”

Real fear struck Jessie to his core.

Hank sighed.

… Mark continued, almost saying something like ‘I can probably remove it and then put it into a cow’ along with something about how the ranch was doing a really good job of figuring out how to pass on Powers through breeding. Maybe they could get Resurrection in 10 different people. Resurrection was a funky spell, with parts that drifted off into the dream, but it was pretty much just the Arcane Power Necromancer but with a whole lot of fine-tuning and a whole lot of stuff that Mark had never seen before.

But Jessie was actually, truly scared.

So Mark said, “I’ll have to tell her that I can’t. It’s too specialized.”

Jessie kinda shuddered and chuckled, and then his worry broke into a triumph. His voice still cracked, though, as he said, “You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

Mark said, “Glad to have you with us, Jessie.”

And then Mark turned and walked away before Jessie said anything else weird.

The guards closed ranks on Jessie.

Isoko easily wrapped her arm around Mark’s, leaning in and pretending everything was fine, as she asked, “You figure out how Resurrection works?”

Mark was acutely aware of many different facts. Primarily, he was standing in a room full of soldiers for Aluatha, and they all had loyalties generally like Mark’s, but there were many people in the room that were not from Aluatha at all. It was pretty easy to spot those outsiders; they were mostly Japanese, and thus shorter than everyone from Aluatha. So secondarily, Mark was in a room with a bunch of people of truly unknown loyalties, some of which were probably demonic. Archmages existed, after all, and though Mark didn’t know any of the potential archmages here, he was sure there were some.

So the demons were listening, and the demons had already yelled at Mark about not wanting Resurrection Magic off the reservation. Archmage Blackthorn’s demon, Planty, had said as much, and very strongly.

Mark decided to tell Isoko, “I have no idea how Resurrection works.”

Isoko played it off, shrugging. “For the best.” Inwardly, she knew Mark was lying completely, and she even flinched her arm, tensing against Mark as she caught his lie, but on the outside, and in her face, she moved on, saying, “Now where is that General…”

And because the General was currently the guy in command of this whole situation here, and thus nominally the strongest man in the room or at least the one expected to be on-call for the big events, and Mark and Isoko wanted to talk big events with him and they were the strongest people actually in the room (with only a 98% certainty), General Devo Stone stood about 25 meters away, talking to people about very important things, but also ready to drop them at a moment’s notice. That moment happened now.

General Devo Stone nodded a little toward an elderly Japanese man, all white haired and slightly hunched and with his hand on a cane, saying, “Excuse me, Councilor Umeda. That appointment I told you about is here now.”

“I’d like to be a part of this coming discussion, if it’s alright with Aluatha.”

Stone nodded just a little, and then followed that look toward Mark, allowing Mark the opportunity to answer the question. Mark did not know the Councilor Umeda Unkei, but Quark gave a rapid rundown, as much as he could. Mark almost balked when he saw that the guy had been in office since 1960, Pre-Reveal, and though he had retired once in the 2010s, he had come back to fill someone else’s shoes for the last 20-odd years. The guy was a Big Name, with his hands in every part of New Tokyo, and though Isoko didn’t notice him right away she noticed him now. She rapidly let go of Mark’s arm to look more professional, her vector flexing to worry and triumph.

The guy was something like 125 years old.

He didn’t look a day over 100.

Mark stopped a few meters away from the pairing, saying, “Evening, General. Councilor. I’d like to discuss the nature of the war, and how far we’re going with it. I don’t expect it to be a long discussion, or in detail at all. I’m fine with New Tokyo knowing the answers to my questions.” He nodded a little toward Umeda.

The elderly Councilor nodded back, saying, “New Tokyo owes you a debt beyond debts, Inheritor Careed, but I would impose upon you again to let us sit down for this discussion. It’s about 3 days past my bed time, though, so I don’t expect I can manage for too long of a night.”

Mark grinned a little, saying, “Absolutely, sir.”

“Glad to have you with us tonight, Councilor Umeda,” Isoko said, being very polite.

General Devo Stone gestured to the side, to a glass door room beyond some soldiers, saying, “The rooms over here have some nice webweave couches...”