Who wishes to fight must first count the cost.

Pre-Fall classic.

Johanna had assumed that Vernon would be like New Benton. Or maybe like that first major city of Independence State they’d seen in the spring, Nedalshe.

It was all these things, but more.

“First time, I think,” Ulrich said, chuckling.

She did not reply, instead taking in the sight. As they crossed the last few miles to the city, more and more details became visible.

There were obviously multiple walls surrounding the capital of Independence State. Hybrid versions, mixing stone and enormous wood palisades. Her childhood lessons on geography had barely included things about the other States of the Union, but at least she knew the city wasn’t built around an Ancient ruin, like many, but founded a few decades after the Fall, just before the first Wars of Unification.

Despite that, it was huge. Vernon was not the capital of Independence State for nothing.

“It is, it is,” she said, chuckling too.

“I grew up in a small town, too,” the thirster said.

“Oh?”

“A place called Black Lake Redoubt, up in the Marches of the Algonquin. It had less than 1500 people living there, with maybe one-fourth being humans.”

“It must be weird, growing up in a place like that, with so many Changed.”

“Well, for me, unchanged people were the bizarre ones. Dark skins – compared to mine – all sorts of color hair, brown eyes. All thirsters were Changed two years after the Fall, I think, but the funny thing is that it happened in waves, or so my grandpa said.”

“But you’re not really vampires, aren’t you?” she asked.

“No. I mean, we digest fresh blood, which is semi-toxic for unchanged humans. And it does taste good, at least for us. But we don’t get powers from it, we aren’t immortal or something, and while I dislike the sun, well, it’s because I can’t get a suntan and I get sunburn instead. I would have loved it if Dark Flame had bestowed me the kind of heat immunity you have, but alas, it does not have a passive.”

The Wood Master fell into contemplation.

“I wonder if there are Talents where you can truly change into something. Those Skins that Miles and I have got are mostly… well, skin-deep.”

“Want to become a giant bat?” she joked.

“Who wouldn’t? Not everyone can become an angel of death,” he joked back.

“Well, I can’t. It’s all Moore’s doing…” she stopped.

Could I?

She tried to remember. While she was in the Ancient’s Realm, she’d been able to see, written in plain text, all the details. Including the Talents Moore had brought into play.

Fleshless, she remembered, was what had seemingly changed her into a skeleton. And it required only level 11, 2 more than her current 9. And lots of qualities. The black wings, Shadow Wings, were even higher at 16 and even more extensive requirements. Moore was not bound by limitations on those, but she was.

“So, there is a possibility of really getting that?” Ulrich said, once she’d explained the Talents.

“I’m probably not the best person to get that. I think a Metal Master would be best.”

“Level 16 sounds almost impossible, too. I don’t think Miles will get to that point if the professor’s observation about the amount of talent energy growing higher and higher holds true. But you, on the other hand…”

“Pr. Gomez said we had to cheat, that Moore was infusing us with additional experience. But once the Talent House gets going… young people of our age will go out regularly, maybe for decades, against the Changed beasts. Those will gain lots of experience as well.”

“The future is going to look very different,” Ulrich concluded.

“What next?” she asked as they neared the gates into the nearest district of the capital.

“First, we drop off our horses at the stables. Then, we head to the Executive House. I don’t know the Executive’s agenda, but I’m quite certain he’ll instantly clear it when we arrive,” Katia replied as she veered off.

The Undersecretary’s stables were a large area, with the unmistakable sign of the Postal Service prominently all over the place. Johanna should not have been surprised by that, given that the woman had mentioned them being the primary users of horses. It made sense to use the Service since both the Postal Service and Katia’s Internal Affairs were part of the government.

As she dismounted, she took note that she no longer needed Laura’s service for sore parts. By measuring the time it required to erase the traces of the day, Laura was quite sure she was using somehow Regrowth or Cleanse Toxins rather than Close Wounds. The fact that she needed to actively fix her own complaining muscles pointed out to the former rather than the latter, as Cleanse was somewhat automatic on her part.

She had no idea what was “regrown”, and she found out she didn’t want to know. Johanna might need some more training if she ever were to use horses again, but at least she was no longer a complete beginner.

Katia and the agents acting as an escort headed immediately further into the city.

“Haven’t been in here for a while,” Ulrich said.

“You’ve been to Vernon before?” Johanna asked.

“Yes. For the longest time, we ran ruins in the south of the State. There were lots of mana zones there for almost a century after the Fall, then for some reason, the mana dropped to low levels, and you started not to see many dangerous Changed beasts. That was a golden age for scavenging, but not every Ancient ruin was well preserved. When our team went there, most of it was cleaned.”

“But you had an advantage. Snowbound.”

She knew the Wendigo had an Artifact that duplicated her own Mana Sight but much better. He’d spotted her easily in Kootenai with his glasses, and she had only started seeing most mana users’ regeneration once Moore had improved her specialization when they arrived in Washington, DC. But when it came to Artefacts, the only one that had been giving her problems was that little unassuming stone that Helena had in her possession.

“He didn’t run with us in the first years. But yes, we kept going even when the money was barely worth the trip. Whenever he noticed something, we’d get there. Sometimes in ruins that had been mostly cleaned.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Without Mana Sight, it’s easy to miss Artifacts.”

“Yes, I remember how you found all those during our original run. Cameron’s brought back another from near the lake already, thanks to Petra. I think he mostly recruited her just for that. In a year, there won’t be an unfound Artifact within a hundred miles of New Sandusky.”

“And she’ll be rich.”

“And the prices will start to crash,” he objected.

“You really think so?”

“Well, maybe. Supply and demand, you know. Although for something that is as rare as Artefacts, even with cheats, who knows?”

As they followed the main avenue into the capital, Ulrich started pointing out places he remembered from a few years ago.

Harold Wexler raised his head from the report he was reading as his secretary entered the office.

“Undersecretary Michaelson is there.”

“She’s back? Get her in then.”

Katia was ushered in along with quite a large group of people, which raised his curiosity. His Internal Affairs minister wasted no time.

“Harold, meet our troubles.”

“Troubles?”

“You can tell Henley to stop looking for them. May I introduce you to those four people who found the Warden’s Artifact? Oh, and the fifth person involved, who is the Artifact himself.”

Wexler looked curiously at the albino man, which he guessed might be a thirster.

“Not him. He’s not visible, but he’s watching us through them.”

Wexler’s eyebrows rose.

The building itself might not have been similar, but someone had very obviously attempted to reproduce the Oval Office at one point. Moore wouldn’t know the differences between the real one and this counterfeit, but it looked like the one used in so many movies and stuff.

The man they were meeting wasn’t surprising, given the place.

Harold Taylor Wexler

Male human, 63 years, 2 months

Unspecialized (head of state)

Level: 8 (21,000 XP needed)

8 unallocated skill points

XP: 35,832

STR: 15

AUT: 16

AGI: 15

PER: 16 (2000 XP needed)

DEX: 17

EMP: 14 (2000 XP needed)

So that’s the president. Well, not of the USA, as much as you might want to pretend, given the place, Moore noted.

He still had not a clear understanding of the geopolitics of 2174, as most of it was the topic of discussions – which he couldn’t follow – rather than writing, which he did.

Well, that’s the second head of state you meet. It’s probably less impressive when it becomes a habit, he thought, as the four took seats in front of the president’s desk.

Moore wondered how he’d fare in the same circumstances. It was easy being detached from normal circumstances back in the beyond. It had been barely more than a year of conscious thought, and he had more than enough time, notably at night, to reflect on his existence. But he did not see any solution to his personal dilemma.

Exchange was far too costly and a temporary kludge. In addition, it was trading places and putting someone in his predicament. He’d pulled Johanna since he had gotten enough XP and apologized, reassuring her that he’d help them.

The other problem was geometry. Although his current realm felt like he did not obey standard spatial rules, the four windows into reality felt like windows. And he had pulled descriptors in every four directions. Create Scroll, Pull, and Exchange all used what felt like a specific side of the descriptor, leaving just one side for the original viewing window.

And that left no room for further options. At least none that involved the four. He had tried multiple times to see if he could create one of those kludged-together user interfaces for himself, but nothing came to view. He was as blind to himself as the others were to their own system interfaces.

Do I have one?

Katia Michaelson completed her briefing and Johanna had pulled the testing scale to demonstrate the basics of the Talent acquisition. The Executive had recognized the parchments, and Johanna remembered they’d recovered some of Gomez’s old stock. She explained and demonstrated the scale, nothing that Executive Wexler seemed to be Dexterity-focused.

Somehow, she didn’t see him as a stealthy melee fighter.

“So basically, you say I can get one of those sets of Talents.”

“Anyone can. All we need is a few Ancient books to create a specific set – and I brought along the intact ones we still had. If we were doing this using the Talent House system, we’d also need a gauge of your level and then figure out what fits. But with Moore, all of that is in his hands – metaphorically speaking.”

“Interesting. Wait, you got one?” he replied, looking at Katia.

“You did not notice. I didn’t talk to you,” the woman smiled.

Wexler looked a little bit skeptical. A few seconds later, he shuddered.

“Your lips don’t move. You are actually not speaking.”

“Yes. And the others present don’t hear me. Unfortunately, I can’t hear you unless you speak,” she continued, audibly this time.

“What else…”

Katia slipped Wexler the little Talent House sheet that Johanna had filled along while Moore had created the parchments.

“I’m not going to ask for a demonstration of the rest,” Wexler said. “Especially not Detect Lies.”

“It does what it says,” Katia merely shrugged as if it were the most ordinary of things.

“And now, the Warden of the Montana has 90,000 of those.”

“I am assuming it is him. The people that assaulted the Talent House claimed to be working for his Adjutant, they clearly were involved with the burglary at Nashville revolving around Professor Gomez, which was a person of interest for the Montana, and we know he’s looking at cracking the mystery of that skeleton in the Montana – sorry, sir,” she added, looking at Johanna and presumably through her.

“It might not be enough of a case for a judge, but for me? No doubt,” she concluded.

Wexler looked back at Johanna.

“It’s a bit of a complex thing. He can’t make, say, 15,000 powered people at our level. For one, a lot of the parchments require higher levels and qualities, which limits who can get them. And there are a limited number of the ones that are truly important. In major combat, you need things like First Aid ready, or you lose a lot of people. And each person you lose, you lose the Talents forever.”

“You don’t recover the parchments?”

“They are destroyed when you get the Talents. I don’t think those ‘artificial’ talents differ from ‘natural’ ones. The Montana agents that died during the attack on the Talent House did not leave copies of their original parchments behind.”

“That’s still a terrifying perspective. What are we talking about? Ten thousand? Five thousand? More? Less?”

Ulrich, who had remained silent so far, injected himself into the discussion.

“They destroyed or left with our detailed inventory, but I remember we had something under 200 copies of First Aid. That gives him 200 regular squads with a dozen or so Talented. If he scales up from that, the troops will be more ‘disposable’.”

“How strong would be a Talented squad compared to regular troops?”

Everyone looked at Johanna.

“Back when we were around level 5, we four basically defeated an entire platoon that was trying to stop our escape. Twenty-some soldiers, including crossbowmen. And that was relatively easy, even if one of them had an Artifact to balance things out.”

“So a factor of, say, 10. I was worried about facing hundreds of Burning Walkers.”

Ulrich coughed.

“I think there were 120 copies of that particular Talent, if it is Burning Ground. And more than enough Specializations to really make use of that Talent.”

Wexler groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“What I want to understand is why you made so many of those parchments. If your Ancient can make a perfect set of Talents instead of you having to rely on guesses, why? Why not have everyone come to you instead and get the right ones? That way, he’d have – you would have – more control over who gets what.”

“We had reasons. Good ones,” she hastened to add.

The Executive merely nodded back, waiting.

“First, it was way more practical for transportation back to New Sandusky. A hundred stacked parchments weigh less and take as much space as a single book, which would yield two to four parchments at best. We could bring back a lot more over a single expedition, just in case we couldn’t go back for a long time.

“Two, the Talent House is supposed to cover the entire Union. Maybe one day, in the future, the entire world. We will have local branches, at months of travel time sometimes. In some places, like the East Coast, you may need to mobilize additional forces in emergencies when you have a massive and dangerous Beast horde coming out of the mana zones. And if you’re very active, you’ll grow in experience fast and can use new specializations or additional Talents all the time. The branches would need to have parchments ready for all that.”

“You could still ask people to come for all that. Well, except for the emergencies.”

“Yes, but how many would? In the future, when the Talent House is known, and what we do, what we can do, is trusted, maybe. But right now, who would send their guards to the other side of the continent on our say-so? Even with a higher Talented demonstrating his abilities, you can always tell yourself he’s the one-in-a-century power, trying to scam you somehow.”

“Well, that was nice on paper, but then you lost control. Because it was never solid. When you make plans, never forget to make plans for when the original one fails.”

Wexler looked at her inquiringly.

“Well, the third is if we all die. Parchments work without Moore’s direct interference. No one knows what happens if there is no one to channel Moore’s presence. Those might be what will ever be.”