[Mirror Mirror] Investigation: Balearic Islands

highdarklord

highdarklord

100% Certified Cunning
Jefferson Davis, Special Field Agent of the Crystal Empire, was leading a small, 10-man squad of soldiers to the Balearic Islands chain in order to fulfill the following objectives, in list of importance:


1. Search for lost technology


2. Search for information on the Celestial-style tech trees


3. Make contact with the locals (human or other)


4a. Establish trade relations


4b.Peacefully annex the islands


4c. Scout for invasion routes


They inserted via a three-set of speedboats, dropping them off on Majorca. The latest intel on the island wasn't as good as it used to be, and the team was unsure if there were any sentient beings on the island at all.
 
They landed, and suddenly, a bullet whizzed by Jeff’s head, followed by shouting, in English,


“You bloomin’ idiot, they’re Empire! You shoot at them now they’ll come back with artillery and blow us back into the twentieth century!”


Five men, all of them well armed, approached the beach. Their weapons were slung. One of them had his head hung low, likely the shooter. There was a Freighter anchored off the shore of the island, which passed through the Strait all the time. It flew the old flag of the Republic of Ireland, only with an empty pot with a single gold coin inside. It was called the ‘Irishman’s Treasure.’


“Sorry about that, blokes, Tavi here don’t know what he’s doing most of the time,” the same voice from earlier said, in fluent but accented Spanish, “Welcome to Majorca. I’m Captain Leon. That over there is my vessel, and this is my island four months out of the year. You happened to catch me whilst halfway through a run to Ireland. What can I do ye fer?”
 
As soon as the bullet whizzed by Jeff's head, he dropped to the ground, "Down! Incoming fire!" he shouted, the soldiers around him all going prone with their rifles pointing inland. It was only after the men appeared with their weapons slung that Jeff gave the all clear and the group rose back up to their feet, brushing some of the sand off of their uniforms, holding their weapons at ease for the moment.


"Ah, Captain Leon, my name is Jeff, and we're here to investigate the whole chain of islands here for life and resources," he paused here for a moment to chuckle, "I suppose I should also say that I'm grateful that Tavi doesn't know what he's doing most of the time, otherwise I'd have a new hole in my head, and despite what some of my friends say, no, I don't need another one." He winked at Tavi with a grin, signalling that he wasn't going to bite Tavi's head off anytime soon.


"So Captain, I guess its safe to assume you know what and who is on the island pretty well if you're spending a third of it here?" he asked, while at the same time the troops with him finally slung their weapons, becoming more at ease.
 
“Oh, aye. I’m the one who founded the villages in these islands after the Machines wiped out the local population. Mostly, it’s the bastards of sailors that pass through the Mediterranean and their mothers. And a number of my own,” he laughed, to which his fellows joined in, “I founded this place, oh, thirty years ago now. I spend four months here to charge up the solar panels on the Fortune and find work in the Empire, usually fixin’ up fishermen’s vessels and selling machinery I couldn’t sell in Ireland. The rest of the time I’m either in Anatolia or Ireland, but mostly at sea. That’s true for a lot of us at this point, it’s a successful rout. I suppose it were only a matter ‘o time affore the Guilds came to poke their nose in our business. Most of the islands aren’t much different than ours. Sheep in the south, docks and taverns here, machine shops in the north. But don’t go to Formentera without more than a few tanks. There are still active Machines there. I once hired a lot of Crystal mercenaries to clear the place out. I found one of their heads on the beach two weeks later. We’ve got a demon that lives there, too, he comes in once in a while to buy fish if he can’t catch enough himself. Grouchy fella.”
 
Jeff nodded in understanding, "I figure that besides Formentera, which I should mention that the mercs are never as good as the actual soldiers," he said, indicating with his eyes he was saying this partly for the soldiers behind him, "there aren't too many threats out here except the occasional attempt at banditry by some pirates? I'm also sure you're well aware of how business would increase, and more importantly security would increase, if the islands joined the Empire?"


"So about this demon bloke, Captain, any idea why he's hanging around this far south of where the Frenchies made it? Or why the machines haven't caught him yet if they're on the same island?" Jeff asked, referencing the nickname that had come and gone in terms of popularity when talking about the Demons from France that had invaded the Empire early in the War.
 
“They better have been actual soldiers considering how much I spent to hire them,” he growled, “They told me they wee off duty soldiers with time on their hands and some empty wallets.”





He thought about it, and didn’t seem too sure.





“These islands are visited because they’re independent. We’d have to consider it, and it would depend on what you’d be willing to let us get away with. Sometimes those pirates are our customers and our escorts, too. It’s a hard distinction to make between neighbor and bandit when seasons get rough. If we considered it, ye’d have to let us allow us to govern ourselves fer the most part. That’s how it’s been fer thirty years, t’have a port outside of the Empire but not too far from the Empire. We’re a well-placed pit stop right affore a toll booth, if ye understand what I’m sayin’.





“As for Groucho, he didn’t come from Paris. He came from Tunis. At least that’s what he said when I met him fer the first time. He said something about having pissed off the Demon that rules the place. I think he stole some coin, which don’t make any sense, because the coins are used to keep the humans addicted to drugs, sex, and gamblin’. Not much use fer coin between the demons.”
 
"Off duty soldiers usually spend time with their families rather than out performing merc duties, meaning there was likely a violation of the Guild of Destruction's regulations there in regard to mercenary duties. In the future, I'd advise to make sure you go through the Guild's official channels for the hiring of mercenaries. Takes a little longer and might cost a little more than hiring mercs off the street, but it assures a better deal and a force that will clear out your problem, or a partial refund is assured."


"As for the self-governing, other than the standard Empire wide procedures, its Guild hierarchy that governs towns, and other than a few seed-members, the local chapters are always primarily run and organized with locals staffing the positions and setting the rates on taxes and the like. Helps make sure that the people know they control themselves. The way the Celestials wanted to run things has never sat well with the Master Slayers. We're an Empire yes, but we prefer to make sure that we're a united and truly diverse Empire."


When Leo mentioned what had happened to the demon, Jeff got a puzzled look on his face, "Would it be possible for me to talk to Groucho? Or is he unlikely to be coming in for a visit anytime soon? If there's somebody that would know about the inside workings of a Demonic Dystopia, that alone could prove monumental in preparing to break the holds the Others have over our fellow brethren across the world."
 
“That was ten years ago, I’m sure things have changed,” Leon shrugged, “If ye’re intent on annexin’ us, you’ll have to speak with the other leaders of the islands. I’m not opposed to the idea, but I’m not going to support it, either. A couple of ‘em have a chip on their shoulder about you, and some of them are French. That last one alone ought to be enough of a deterrent.”





One of Leon’s soldiers couldn’t help but laugh.





“As fer Groucho, we call him Groucho fer a reason. He’s more’n a mite grouchy. He kin get a bit bitey. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but I kin show ye were he lives, fer a little extra jink in my pocket. The south island is dangerous fer all the robots. I don’t know how he survives it, he’s probably tougher’n he looks. Demons usually are. What do ye say?”
 
Jeff nodded in response, smiling at the comment, "Aye, French... didn't last too long with the demons... left a mighty big number for our boys to mow down in the mountains all those years ago. I would like to speak to the other leaders first, as I'm sure Groucho will still be where he lives if he's survived there that long. The robots probably aren't too terribly organized at this time."


"So, before we start start speaking to any of these leaders, I gotta know, what do they have against the Empire? The specifics will be vital to figuring out what will need to be done to win over enough of them to get the islands to join," he asked out of curiosity, cocking his head slightly invitingly. "I figure at least one will hate us because we killed his buds when they took some hostages, another because we're not a democracy, and a third just because he's not in charge."
 
“Well, as I recall my Irish history, the last of the French navy sacrificed themselves to prevent the Demons from landing in Great Britain. A whole lot of good it did against the Angels and the Celtics, though.





“I know that Francisco was a soldier. Lost his leg while he was in the service, and it could have been saved, but someone screwed up at the hospital, and he didn’t get a whole lot in the way of benefits. Michelango is Italian and thinks we ought to join the Republic ‘o Sicily. And Isabella…She lost her brother and father in a retaliation strike. They weren’t even part of the raid her village conducted, just moisture farmers. So she has a few choice words for ya.





“Other’n that, Ophelia is the Matron. All the girls go to her to make sure they’re healthy enough to spread their legs fer the sailors. Louis, he’s one of the Frenchmen, he runs the machine shops. Claimed to be an adventurer, till he took a bullet to the knee. If you want to get on his good side, listen to his stories. If you want to stay sane, shoot yerself now. Carlos leads the fishermen. Don’t talk about taxes to him, and he’s sure to bring it up.”
 
"Trust me, you'd probably have been better off if the Demons had been able to land, would have given the angels a hell of a lot harder time, though their sacrifice was noble enough."


"Service with the Guilds? The hospital screw-up alone is a nightmare, but having to deal with the Guild of the People and the Guild of Gold to try and get benefits is a nightmare, but perhaps if I can convince the higher-ups for get a better system he'll come over to our side. Michelango... if he's Italian there probably won't be much I can do to get him over to our side. Isabella, I'll just have to listen to and play it by ear."


"Ophelia doesn't sound like she'll object, and the Guild of Gold will probably help her with her operations... Louis is another I'll just listen to till he can't talk anymore, or at least decides to vote the right way. Carlos... taxes will be an interesting discussion..."


Jeff thought for a minute, "Well, looks like my hands will be kept quite full dealing with all of them. Best get started, eh?"
 
“Carlos would be the closest, he’s just the beach here. Be careful not to touch anything, either. He’s got a strange sense of possession, so he might take offense if you touch the wrong thing. Weird one, him, but I ne’er met a better fisherman.”





There was a dock down the beach with a fishing boat. To their surprise it actually had sails on it, and there were slots for oars, as well. There were boathands getting the boat ready to go out to sea. A black-haired man with a slight beard wlaked off the dock to meet them.





“Leon. I thought you would be getting the Fortune ready to go out to sea.”





“Well, I was about to, when some folks from the Empire showed up. They want to have a few words with ye.”
 
Jeff looked over his shoulder at the troops, who nodded in affirmation about keeping their hands to themselves. Before they left, he waved off the drivers of the speedboats to head back out to escort freighter that had served as the mothership for the boats.


Jeff smiled as welcomingly as he could at Carlos, "Don't worry Carlos, it's nothing bad at all. It is Carlos, correct? I heard you were the single best fisherman in the area, along with carrying the respect of all your peers. Are the stories false?" he asked as he respectfully kept back from the dock, his hands folded behind his back. The soldiers kept in a loose formation behind Jeff, their hands resting at their sides.
 
Carlos hoisted a fishing pole onto his shoulder, and assumed an impatient stance.





“I am. More than that, I’m the one who determines who fishes where, so that areas can refill with fish. Overfishing used to be a problem in the area, to the point that the fishermen would turn violent against one another. I have more than their respect, I have their attention. If they don’t listen to me, they don’t fish. And if they fish anyway, their boats get boarded and their catches seized. That’s one of the reasons I like being here. We get the chance to do things right, and everyone is entitled to what they fairly acquire.”
 
Jeff nodded in agreement, "Good to hear. Humanity can't afford to overtax what natural resources we still have in regards to food production. With that kind of mentality that you possess, you'd make an excellent member of the Guild of Gold. You see, the Crystal Empire is seeking to expand peacefully, and these islands we feel would, if they joined, benefit both the Empire and themselves further. The Guild of Gold has fairly lax fishing regulations, and if we could gain a man such as yourself to perhaps agree to join the Guild of Gold, preferably as either a high-ranking official of the local chapters or as their leader, you'd be able to insure that such things as the fishing regulations and tax codes are kept fair and balanced. High enough for the governments to be able to protect the people and invest in them, yet low enough for the people to flourish."
 
“I have heard Barons of the wilds claim that their tax codes are fair and balanced. It is rare to find this to be so. Our islands are self-sufficient. We use your currency because it is near, usable, and convenient, not because we owe you anything. Least of all, taxes. With things the way they are we have no need to be brought into a larger organization, to pay taxes and tithes for someone on the continent. We have our own warriors. Our own regulations and way of doing things. If you want us to join, I’ll want more than promises, and I’ll want to see that we won’t be giving up what we have for the sake of a nation we owe little to.”
 
"Did I not say that you yourself would be one of the people deciding the local tax code Carlos? You give up next to nothing to gain much. You gain additional protection, access to greater fishing grounds, and the assurance that if you come under attack, you have a true, highly organized and disciplined fighting force. If the robots from Formentera were to decide to expand, do you really believe your people have the resources and numbers to stop them? What if an angelic strike force comes along? How about a slew of Oldspawn appearing from the seas? What if Groucho isn't friendly and is a scouting force? What if you're attacked by an aggressive baron with a strong military? Could your people and their warriors really stand against them for any time?"


"As I said, the local Guilds would rule and set the regulations, not a far off power. It would be people like you who fish and know the sea who would set the fishing regulations, it would be people like Francisco who would make sure that nobody is wronged here, Louis who would make sure the parts are of the highest quality. We can insure that every single economic aspect is increased in size, that the people flourish rather than survive, and that your decedents can look forward not to a life of survival, but a life of growth, longevity, the kind of life humans were able to live before the Celestials came and destroyed everything. One of knowledge, of passion, of joy, one where they can create art rather than spend all their lives struggling day in and day out to make sure they survive. A bad season would be an inconvience, not a possible death sentence. THAT is what the Guilds hope for, fight for, and above all else, build for. We only ask that you buy in so to speak."
 
“You said I would have control. I would be the local leader. That does not necessarily mean that these things will be protected. If you want me to work with you, I’ll need to have specific plans written and drawn up. Not to mention integrating our legal systems, adopting tax code language, and things of that nature. It’s a lot more work than you make it seem like, and I want guarantees. A conflict I want to avoid is if our fishermen go into your waters, or yours into ours, and begin conflicting with our fishing ordnances. And for the military corner, many of our soldiers hold themselves to be mercenaries. Dealing with them will take a bit of tact. Your words are nice and flowery, but if the Robots attacked us we’d be able to deal with it. And if the Demons attacked us, then you or Sicily would respond. As for continental Barons, we’re at least as strong as they, and with a more powerful naval force. Only larger powers are of any of our security concern. Namely, you.”


Carlos took out a canteen and took a drink; it was obvious that he was smiling as he drank, but his expression was gone once he was done with his drink.
 
"If we started violating our local guild leaders and stepping on their toes, our whole system would fall apart. As for your soldiers, the Guild of Destruction is more than suited and already set up to operate with mercenaries, in fact, besides small member dues at select positions, mercenary contracts are its primary source of personal income. Fishery boundries can be easily and clearly defined between Guilds and by the Master Slayers as needed. The Guild of the People has a well trained legal team that would be able to easily sort through the legal systems and insure a smooth transition, along with the tax code language, especially when the seeding members of the Guilds were to arrive. If you're implying that the Crystal Empire would violently annex your people, I see no pressing reason as to why we would, unless you have something we don't that we'd want to take by force, but I would say simply my open presence here, and equally important me not beating your face into your own dock, shows that we have only peaceful intentions here." Jeff responded, a slight grin on his face.
 
“I’m just saying that when it comes to security concerns, beyond a handful of other things, you’re it,” Carlos shrugged, “I won’t say anything one way or another until I see actual plans and meet with legal representatives like judges and barristers. But when you keep your world, I don’t see any real reason to oppose integration.”


“That’s as close to a ‘Yes’ as ye’re ever gonna get from him,” Leon said.


“Well if I said yes then it would be too easy,” Carlos shrugged, “And we would lose everything we have.”


“Fair enough. Next closest is Ophelia. Should be her lunchtime by the time we reach her, that’s the best time to talk to her about anythin’, really. Tavi! Get the truck, and don’t crash it!”


Tavi darted off, and came back with the truck, successfully not crashing it, and led them to the eastern part of the island. What they saw was a quaint fishing village, with buildings of surprisingly fine craftsmanship in some places, while the rest looked like as one might expect a fishing village to look like. When they parked, Leon pointed to the tallest and finest of the buildings.


“That’s the Boards. It’s a fine hotel, one of our great’est attractions, and provides cate’erin’ and companion services throughout our fine islands. Don’t call ‘em hookers or prostitutes. Ophelia’s likely t’ shoot ye if ye do.”


He lifted his shirt showing a bullet wound.


“And if ye piss her off, none of the others will talk to ye. I like to think these are my islands, but really, it’s her that brings everythin’ in. If she says no it won’t affect the others, but if you anger her, that’s an entirely different story.”
 
"Now watch out fer the wee ones, they'll likely be comin' home fer lunch from school," Leon said, "Try and keep yer weapons su'tle. Ophelia doesn't like the wee ones seein' guns if they ain't bein' used."





Jeff looked at the men who were with him. Out of all of them, only Jeff had any real ability to hide his weapons. "You guys wait here in the truck, and keep the rifles down below the sides so they don't see them. I'll talk to her myself."





Inside, Jeff found that the women here looked quite happy and quite healthy. Healthier, in fact, than most of the men they'd seen. Everything was quite fine and detail orientated. There was a trio of male teenagers performing some repairs. The hotel, as far as something this fine, was fairly recent. The receptionist was a well-endowed Spanish woman. It was easy to tell, considering she practically had them popping out; first impressions were everything, after all.





Jeff raised an eyebrow somewhat noticably, "Impressive," he muttered under his breath to Carlos





"I know, right?" he smiled with a whisper, "Pardon me, Rochelle. Is Ophelia available?"





"She is. I'll buzz her," Rochelle said, giving Jeff a sideways glance.





Jeff smiled, half innocently, half suggestively at her.





"Who's the continental?" she asked. She pressed a button, and waited for a few moments. A red light activated.





"My name is Jefferson, but you may simply call me Jeff, madam Rochelle," He responded, bowing slightly, "I'm here on business."





"Madam is French, and for married women. I am a señorita," she replied with a warm smile.





"They say French is the language of love, but always forget to mention how our own tongue is the language of passion," he replied, smiling fully and warmly at her, his eyes never leaving hers





“French is a language of lust. That is why they are infested with Demons, and Spain is not. Ours is one of passion. And I have been taught passion all my life."





"Passion tempered with wit, and breathed over with a clear mind. You are a shining example of what every senorita should strive to be, as smart as you are beautiful, and as cunning as any fox."





"I'm sure señorita Rochelle would love to catch up with you la'er, but Lady Ophelia is not one to keep waitin'," Leon said.





"How about tonight? Dinner?" Rochelle asked.





"I would not object senorita, I will return tonight and meet you accordingly, though if my travels take me too far away, I will insure a runner reaches you long before the time. I will see you again," he responded, smiling at her before breaking away to Leaon, "Of course, business must be taken care of."





"Of course," she smiled, and Leon rolled his eyes, leading Jeff up the stairs.





"Ye do realize ye've just fallen for the techniques she's trained to use to get men to buy her dinner, right?"





"Of course. I hope you realize I have no intention of showing up, or sending a runner? I am no novice to this trade Leon. You may be a sailor, but I am not inexperianced. To say that my own missions with the Guilds have taken me places is a slight understatement" No such thing as a free dinner for a working girl in the end."





"Well, ye kin get yerself into that mess yerself, then. Ye promised her dinner or a runner. She'll find a way to hold ye to that."





He grinned, "If my business takes me to the robots soon enough, I can relieve myself of either. Or, I could send a female to deliver the message mere minutes before I'm supposed to meet her. She'll have no free dinner on me or my troops tonight."





"Oh believe me, the ones that Ophelia put at the front desk...If ye take THEM out to dinner, that's payment. Well earned." He knocked on the door.





"Come in," a heavily accented woman called. She was from near the border with Portugal.





Jeff gulped, "Joy, practically from Portugal..." he mumbled as he opened the door, "Lady Ophelia?"





"Yes," a large woman sitting at a small dining table nodded. She was plump, but very curvy.





“I am Jeff, and I am here on behalf of the Guilds."





here was a red-haired woman sitting at the table, as well. They were eating lunch; oysters. The red haired girl's face lit up when Leon walked into the room., "I can tell from the accent and the dress. You're a Diplomat of some kind, a talker?"





"And a fighter, and a sneaker, and in truth, a jack of all trades. I work for the Guild of Destruction."





"I've been in the Hotel too long then. Have a seat. Leon, you may go."





"Mother, can't he stay?" the red haired girl asked, and Ophelia rolled her eyes.





“All right, have a seat, then," Ophelia motioned to a chair.





Ophelia motioned to the oysters, "Help yourself."





Jeff sat down, smoothly easing himself into the chair and facing Ophelia. He calmly grabbed one of the oysters and began to open it and eat. "Thank you Ophelia. So, I'm sure a smart woman like yourself can guess why I'm here."


"You either want to annex us, or you want to establish a military base. Either way it's the same thing."





He nodded, "More business for you and your girls, and also more chances for them to earn a living other ways."





Business!" Ophelia made a dainty 'Hmph!' Her daughter winced. "And what 'business' am I in, then?"





"The business of entertaining others, and fulfilling needs and desires that can't always be easily fulfilled."





Ophelia smirked, impressed with him being able to weasel out of that one.





"Do you have prostitution in the Empire?"





“It’s not illegal, due simply to there not being enough opportunities for young ladies to make a living in other ways, but its frowned upon, though if a local Guild of Gold branch were to start recognizing it and treating it as a normal business, it could gain a foothold. Short answer: Yes."





"I'm sorry to hear that. Here in Balearia, we don't. I do not operate a whorehouse."





Jeff nodded in understanding





"Prostitution is the tool of the Devil. It's used in Paris and Tunis to keep people addicted and enslaved. My girls are free. They live better than any of the men do on the island. They cook, they clean, and they work. They are well-read and educated. Every one. What's the literacy rate in the Empire?" she raised an eyebrow.





"Not as high as we wish it was."





"Yes. The girls have sex with sailors. But they do more than that. They bring conversation. They bring kindness and understanding. A comforting ear. And they are also teachers. Many of the men in Balearia would not be literate if they were not taught. The standard of living for women on our islands is much higher than that of the men. That's not to say that the men aren't important. They build our homes, father our children."





The red haired girl couldn't help but glance at Leon.





Jeff smiled, "But the women run the island in the end."





"They bring the food that we serve on our tables," she continued, "And they guarantee the trade. And yes. Isn't every home, in the end, run by the women?"





He shrugged, "I wouldn't know. I spent little time with my own family, and have no wife of my own."





"The reason this arrangement exists is because there are so many more women that live here permanently than men. Most of those homes down there are rented for a few weeks as fishermen count their profits. Many of those men are young and will die out on the sealanes. It is tragedy for a man to die without knowing what it means to be a man. Or, on the other hand, for a woman to die without knowing what it means to be a woman. The men fall in love with the girls, as they will. But they can't stay on the islands. So sometimes, they sponsor. They commit their resources to a woman, so she will bear his children, and wait for him if he returns. Otherwise, the women find work by running the island: Merchants, nurses, teachers, and so on. Usually, the man comes back, to what is, effectively, his home. Sometimes, they don't, but they leave behind a woman with a home of her own. I cannot call someone that does that for another any less than myself."





Ophelia herself took a glance at Leon.





"The women are not paid for sex. They are paid to perform whatever function they perform. If they are a maid, a teacher, a nurse. They party and lay the men because the men will provide. As she does, as well. There is no prostitution on our islands."





Jeff watched her eyes go to Leon, "I see, and I believe I understand."





"Now. My hotel and my girls are the worst kept secret in the Empire. We get plenty of your soldiers and fishermen. I will not have my island degrade. So, if you are to have my support, I have something big to ask of the Guilds in exchange for my support."





Jeff raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"





"You have prostitution in the Empire. That must change. I know how to fix those things. This hotel, when I started, WAS a whorehouse. There is no sexual health education or services in your Empire. I have known Guild officials that come here to check for venereal diseases. If this is to happen, I want to be able to fix the situation in the Empire. Which means a good deal of power over that sort of thing."





"I believe the Guild of the People would love to have you join with them to help educate the general population. I know they're planning on beginning to implement a rash of education reforms, and if you were to help craft additional ones, their hope is to have a fully revamped education system that can be rebuilt from the ground up, and they want to have the policies in place before they expand."





"That is all well and good, and I would be sure to work closely with them. But I will need financing and resources to fix the whorehouses and change the fate of your ill refute. Health education can come later; right now there are street walkers that need guidance towards talent other than what is between their legs."





He smiled, "If you need muscle, the Guild of Destruction has that. Money, the Guild of Gold. Manpower and organization? The Guild of the People, along with plenty of passion to help people. New methods? The Guild of Crystal. The Master Slayers are pouring considerable resources from the Guilds into turning the Empire back into a thriving power, instead of a husk compared to what it was at its height."





"As I recall it was on the retreat even then," she smirked, "But if you'll fund and power me, and allow me the authority to act within the Empire, then you have my support."





"Mama, if you went to the Empire, who would run the Board?"





Ophelia, without changing expression, shrugged, as if the answer was obvious.





"You."





"Me?"





Jeff smiled, "I can promise you the Master Slayers will give you what you need. She'll need a good man, a leader of men to help her I'm sure," he looked at Leon as he spoke.





"Well, I've raised you to run this place, haven't I?" Ophelia said, "You know how everything works. Where everything has to go. You've run it without me before. You're your own woman."





The girl puffed her cheeks in offense at Jeff, "I need no man to do what I was groomed for!"





Ophelia smiled widely.





Jeff grinned lightly, nodding, "Good. However, I never said to do. But to hold you when you're stressed, to care for you when you're sick? As I understand it, that's one thing a man can do without screwing it up too much."


"I'll find my own man, then," she raised her nose into the air, "I don't need one supplied."





Jeff looked taken aback slightly, "I certainly hope you weren't thinking I was volunteering! I wouldn't stand a chance!"


"I certainly hope you didn't think so, I don't know you!"





"You know Leon though, and he's a good man, that's for sure."





Jeff winked and smiled, chuckling slightly





"You aren't running it yet, Adele. You have my terms, Jeffery of Gibraltar."





He nodded, "I will make sure the Master Slayers hear of them, worry not."





"So do you have any questions on what it's like here?" Ophelia was spreading some cheese on a slice of bread.





"How did you manage to secure such living conditions when most of the traffic comes through and does its layover in the Empire?"





"We have vessels stopping here from all over the world. Leon here has been as far as India. Once we had the place, it was only a matter of time. We made it so that it was preferable to spend their coin and time here, rather than the Empire, which bleed them for tithes through the strait as it is."





He shrugged, "It’s my understanding that it's still cheaper and safer than taking the long way. Though I suspect this means your people have ready trade access with powers all around the world?"





"Some, yes. We get a lot of Turkish. Free Greeks. No end of Italians."





"How are the Free Greeks doing? Last I heard, that was perhaps the largest concentration of organized Powerwalker forces."





"That's a question to ask me," Leon said, "It's easier in the south and the western parts of Greece than it is in the East, but it's got its share of troubles."





Jeff nodded, "Once the Empire is back on its feet, we'll need to make sure we help organize better resistance in as many places as we can."





"If ye kin get the Barons to stop fightin' each other," Leon laughed.





"A few well placed bullets can do wonders, if history is to be believed, though chances are good that it'd be easier to just organize resistance groups against the barons and overthrow them with more rational forces."





"They're all the same. I have no illusions that if we were connected to the mainland we'd be no different. We've blessed here, and not by Angels, thank goodness."





He nodded, "Aye, it’s quite possible. Thankfully, the Barons aren't too active on the Empire's borders, though we have to deal with two dystopias practically on our border instead."





"There are Barons in between," Ophelia nodded.





"They aren't exactly strong enough to serve as an effective buffer sadly."





"The Dystopias don't expand much," Ophelia said, "I've lived in two of them."





"Which varieties? Old One and Demon?"





"My father sent me to Portugal in exchange for fertile fields. I bore two Deep One children before escaping. I thought the demons in Paris would be able to provide better. I was wrong."





"The Oldspawn buy people?" Jeff asked, his face becoming notably darker





"They all do," Leon shrugged, "Many Barons do, too. In America they actually enslave people based on their skin color. They're less discriminatory in Europe. If a farmer wants good crops, then the Oldspawn have salves and mixtures that lead to great crops. The Demons will grant spells. The Angels, blessings. Robots manufacture advanced weaponry. The Spectres can tell fortunes."





"You were able to escape both Dystopias however?" he thought for a moment, "We could use this to the Empire's advantage. Create a group of people dedicated to doing this repeatidly, and have a group ready to exfil them... what kinds of fortunes can the Spectres tell though?"





"I escaped the first because the Deep One that fathered my children took pity on me. I escaped Paris because of Leon."





"So security is ruthlessly tight than? And what did Leaon do to get you free?"





"I was young and stupid, and went in hopin' fer a good time. I was lucky I had a shotgun. And a helicopter."





"You had a helicopter and any number of their forces didn't tear you out of the sky? I've read the combat reports from the mountain combat back in the early parts of the war. Helicopters could hardly be used except when air supremacy had been taken."





"Well, it was one of theirs. I paid fer Ophelia, and saw what a rotten state she was in. I cannae love a woman that barely knows where she is. So I snuck her to one of the helipads, and flew out. By the time they realized they'd lost one, we were already in Ireland."





"Sounds like dumb luck more than anything else."





"Oh I have no illusions about that," Leon laughed, and Ophelia chuckled as well.





"Hmm... there is much to be done sadly..."





"That there is."





"Perhaps you will be able to give us information on how to deal with the Portugal Dystopia... most likely the first one to be... dealt with eventually."





"They have a strong navy. They will use it. But there is little I remember from my time there," Ophelia said.


"Strong navies are often weak to a high-altitude strike... or a vicious land assault... or a few well-placed mines in secret."





"I wouldn't know, I'm sorry."





He smiled, "It's not your job to, it is however, partly mine. One thing the Guild of Destruction did well was to preserve the combat reports and strategy books of our forefathers. We have the knowledge to kill, but not enough out of the highest ranks have been able to study them in depth…That, and we don't have some of the vital weapons that would make it effortless. We need better technology for that."





"In either case ye still an army," Leon said.





"Yes, but a very green army. Outside of fighting raiders and pirates, they have no real combat experience, little field experience, and while our infantry is our single most lethal weapon, they just would suffer to astronomically high of casualities to put down one of the dystopias."





"I know a few barons that could use a nice arsekickin," Leon laughed.





"But Louis knows 'em better."





"Yeah," Leon growled, "He does."





"They all could, but even then, they'd be on the defensive, with more than likely fanatics..." he shrugged, "I suspect Louis knows them a little too well?"





"Louis won't shut up about all the jobs he's done or the Barons he's swindled," Leon sighed.





"I think he's rather charming," Adele said.





"Well, better swindling than helping," Jeff said. Leon groaned at Adele's statement.





"Leon is well traveled but he doesn't know the continent. He knows the coast. Leon has been around the world at least once," Ophelia said, "He may be full of himself, but his ego is well earned."





"If your islands join the Empire, we could certainly put him to good use."





"Publishin’ his memoirs?" Leon snarked.





"More like... scouting advice, preferrably willingly, though... eh..."





"Louis had played a vital role in establishing trade and peace with the Barons on the continent. Both of them," Ophelia said, "He deserves respect."





"Both the peace and the trade?"





"Yeah," Leon grumbled, "He's a piss poor sailor, though."





"Both continents," Adele said, "There's one to the south."





Jeff rolled his eyes slightly, "She weren't exactly specific, Adele."
 
Jeff shrugged, "Leon, I believe we should continue. There are many others I still need to speak to before my mission here is done. Perhaps Louis would be a good next start?"


Leon nodded, "We should get going than." Leon stood up and stared for a moment at Adele before tearing himself away and leading Jeff downstairs.


As they exited, Jeff caught the eye of Rochelle, and motioned for her to come over. "Senorita, I am afraid that I won't be making our dinner date. However, here are some crystallites so that you may dine with me in spirit. Perhaps one day my travels will bring me back to here, but until then, I must bid you ado."


He left before she could respond, briskly walking out, hanging his head in fake sorrow. As soon as he and Leon were outside, Jeff briskly strode over to the truck, where a small crowd of local girls had arranged themselves, talking none too innocently to the soldiers. "Cut it out men, Misty is going to feel lonely if you keep it up," he stated, Misty being the one female soldier who was in the group.


She rolled her eyes, "Clearly sir, these guys are beyond a doubt my type," she responded, the sarcasm dripping off her words.


Jeff grinned as the other soldiers got into the truck, along with Leon and himself. "Drive us away Leon."


Leon signaled and the truck started up and began heading for the machine shops where Louise was expected to be. After an uneventful trip, the truck rolled to a stop and Leon came around to the back, Jeff and the soldiers dismounting with their weapons slung.


"This way Jeff," Leon stated, Jeff nodding and following, half the soldiers coming with him while the others stayed behind. After a short walk they came to a building set slightly more away from the other buildings around it, the constant noise of machines operating and crafting clearly heard. "He should be in here."


"Lead on," Jeff instructed. Leon opened the door and nearly ran right into Louise, who was in between eating and heading back to his machines.


"Louise, this is Jeff, Jeff, Louise," Leon started, through Jeff and Louise were already eyeing each other somewhat suspiciously.


"You look familiar," Louise stated.


"You too..." Jeff responded, his left hand casually landing on his hip as he responded, his main knife just in the small of his back.


"From the raid against that bastard..." Louise started, "Did you finish the job?"


"Of course. Think I'd let that smug idiot survive?" Jeff responded.


Leon was somewhat surprised, "You two know each other?"


"Not really. Enough to know he's Crystal," Louise stated, "Only now know his name."


"Only knew he was French, not a thing more." Jeff stated.


"From what though?" Leon asked.


"Nothing," the other two responded at the same time.
 
“I am glad to see zat ze Empire is taking an interest in our islands. I’ve been wondering when you would show up, zough I am very pleased zat zey haff sent someone as skilled and honorable as you, Jefferey. My full name is Louise Lecuyer of Valence. I was once what is still known as a mousquetaire. We fancy ourselves ze disciples of d’Artagnan. Leaders and adventurers, men of honor and glory. Though since a sniper nearly blew my kneecap off, I am stuck in the machine shops. If I had a new knee, I’d still be on the continent, swindling Barons out of their fortunes and laying their daughters and wives. Alas, I am here, and it is a good life, with many fine women with sharp minds and great wills of their own. All the more challenge for Louise Lecuyer de Valence!"


Leon sighed, and stepped out of the building, pulling out a cigarette.
 
Jeff smirked, "So I've heard on the winds. Though I suspect you know the full reason I would ever show up here, at least show up here in the day, without a heavily armed strike team with me," he responded.


"The Empire's interests in these islands has gotten to the point where the Master Slayers have decided to attempt to persuade the people to join us in the Empire as an entity. Ophelia and Carlos are already siding with us," he paused for a moment, "Additionally, I've heard your old companions in France are getting harassed by the Barons there. While you might be stuck here due to your injury, I happen to be more than capable of doing some things... not just of the big explosiony type either, but sweeping a Baron daughter or two off her feet is something I haven't gotten to do in a while. I might be able to arrange for some assistance to arrive to help them as a result, if you agree to join the Empire."
 
“Ah, well, I don’t want to be made completely useless save for my stories. I keep the engines in Belearia running and I make good money with it. It’s selfish of me to say no in that regard, but I’m also thinking of all the men and women that work with me on the engines. If we joined, we would have to become a private business. We would end up competing with Crystal machine shops. Crystal machinists, who are formally trained and have access to industry. We make do with salvage and imports. Our business is entirely local, we work with local fishermen and our militia. If our fishermen can get better prices and better convenience on the continent, that makes things a bit more rough for us, unless the Empire is willing to help compensate for our lack of competitiveness in an annexation situation. I have the expertise, of course, but we don’t exactly have all the manuals for our vehicles, or the parts.


“As for the Musketeers, well, I’m sure they would appreciate the help. I’d be right there with them if I could. But they might not like the idea of one of the Nations sticking their noses in their business. We-they, I mean, tend to be an independently minded lot. I’m sure they’d appreciate you but not so much the Empire.”
 
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