John did not overly enjoy the pig. The meat was of superb quality. The animal must have had a good life and been delivered a swift death. What had been made of it wasn’t to the Gamer’s taste, however. Whatever sauce had been used to coat the pig while it was roasted tasted intensely of honey and had the kind of smoky aroma sometimes found in whiskey. The combination was novel, John had to give it that much, and he didn’t find it outright disgusting. He would have just enjoyed the meat if it had been less drenched in the stuff.

To the credit of the roasting, it had succeeded in keeping the meat juicy. Long exposure to heat always threatened to turn meat into a dry chewing toy. As far as texture went, the pork was fantastic. John tried to overcome his difficulties with the meat by graciously applying the dark gravy to it. That did help, but not enough to get John to get more than a single slice of the meat. After that initial bit, he concentrated on the vegetables.

The entire time he was eating, he could feel Aclysia’s presence in his mind and how the gears turned inside hers. Every bite he took was another adjustment to what she would serve him the next few days. Aside from talking, the weaponized maid didn’t have much else to do. The only thing she could have taken to eat from the table was the silverware.

“So, John,” Amalia raised her voice, “your scheme to get my people to stay in your capital has been annoyingly successful.”

“What can I say, I play the long game.” John didn’t even try to deny that was what he was doing. Several months ago, he had struck an agreement with Amalia that allowed him to invite Dutch naval engineers to work in the Hudson Barrier. Ever since then, he had put numerous incentives out to keep those engineers around even after their initial contracts to school some of Fusion’s upcoming workers ended. An agreement to stay for longer time netted luxurious housing, greater pay, access to all of the Hudson Barrier’s advantages and funding for private endeavours, among other advantages. This way, John didn’t even have to ask if they wanted to join Fusion over the NTC. Given time, enough would stay to keep teaching more of the local population. Once that was assured, he would no longer need to brain-drain the Netherlands.

“I’m sure you understand that I can’t just let this continue,” Amalia continued on. “I think I’ll end our contract at the end of the year.”

Which was too early for John to have gotten out of it what he wanted. Looking around the table, he noticed the strategic reservedness of Lydia and the burning gaze of Sol. One clearly knew about Amalia’s plan to bring this up, the other was being used as a witness. Amalia wasn’t just threatening to end the contract, she was doing so in the presence of a person who both disliked John and had the political influence to completely nullify whatever he may have used to bludgeon Amalia back into an agreement.

Not that John had planned to use any underhanded methods. He had known this would need eventual renegotiating since signing the contract. Everything eventually did. Rather than put out what he had prepared to say if this topic had been brought up the normal way, being an email or a phone call, he turned to the celestial goddess. “What would you say I would have to offer to solve this situation, Lady Sol?” he asked in a respectful fashion.

As little as he liked Sol and her overly aggressive way of talking to him, the Gamer acknowledged that he was better off if he raised their relationship status from hostile to amicable. Exerting a little bit of effort to that end, especially since he could go nowhere else anyway, was reasonable enough.

Sol raised an eyebrow in surprise at being included like this, but answered anyway, “You could let the contract be terminated and work on it by yourself.”

“That is an option, but as you pointed out earlier, I’m an upstart and so is my guild,” he answered, being as humble as he needed to be. “I need the foreign knowledge to accelerate the growth of my own talent. What do you suggest I do in a situation in which a province of the greatest power in the world says they will no longer aid me?” He gestured towards Amalia, who was following this entire bit with a knowing smirk. She knew exactly what John was doing, but because it wouldn’t be to her disadvantage, she had no reason to stop it. “Going for anything but the best wouldn’t really serve me, would it?”

Sol’s surprised expression melted into a mixture between pleased and calculating. It was exactly the reaction John had anticipated. For how long she had lived, Sol was remarkably easy to read. Much easier than Luna, that much was for sure. It certainly helped that John understood quite a bit of Sol’s character because her pride and her protectiveness of what she had were traits in himself.

“The problem is that you’re extracting value from her economy, while offering nothing in return,” Sol finally put her thoughts on the matter out there. Easy as she was to read, she wasn’t unintelligent, so her analysis was spot-on. “The value of the NTC stems from the money and experiences the engineers gather and bring back. Wealth, newly discovered practices and intel about Fusion’s naval forces will all serve the Netherlands in the long run. After all, knowledge about your war machine can be used to bargain with us.” She gestured in her master’s direction. “The engineers staying with you diminishes that return value. You need to offer Amalia something that serves as its replacement.”

“Would you agree with that?” John asked, turning to the Lady-Protector of the NTC. “To continue the contract if we can agree on something that acts as replacement for the value lost by the engineers staying in Fusion?”

“That would be the minimum requirement,” Amalia agreed.

John reached into his inventory and retrieved a tiny piece of metal, having the shape and size of a die. Reaching over, he handed it to Aclysia who, in turn, placed it in front of Amalia. Interested, the middle-aged blonde picked it up and looked at it from multiple angles. Light reflected on the equally silver and gold material.

“What kind of alloy is this?” she asked.

“It’s not an alloy at all,” John gave his amused answer. “It’s Solunian.” Amalia seemed thoughtful, then shook her head. The goddess of the sun one seat removed now seemed extremely surprised. That she knew about this material didn’t come as a surprise. “Are you familiar with Terrium? Oblivium? Poseidury?” Two times she shook her head, then she nodded. “It’s the same kind of material, just of the light variety, rather than water.”

“I see,” Amalia returned the little cube. “Do you usually carry such exceedingly rare goods with you?”

“Today is a special circumstance,” John answered with a smile and took the cube back. “More important is that my Guild Hall can produce this and the other five elemental extreme metals – as long as I remain alive, that is.” He threw that last bit on there casually, while watching the implications reflect on the two women’s faces. John didn’t actually know if the Guild Hall would shut down if he died. Given that it was an extension of his powers, it was a fair assumption to make, however.

That neither of them had heard of this did surprise the Gamer somewhat. Sol was so close to Romulus that he expected her to know everything his doubtlessly vast information gathering network could bring to the surface. Perhaps Luna was handling all of that and therefore left the sun goddess unknowing. Perhaps John had just revealed something he didn’t strictly need to. He didn’t mind too much; this was something that would leak sooner or later anyway. The true surprise here was that Lydia hadn’t told Amalia about this.

“How much?” Amalia wanted to know, the profiteering intent was practically written on her face.

“Not much,” John kept it vague. “Most of it is used up by private endeavours and research at the moment, but eventually it will hit the market. Of course, I will prioritize the local economy, but it would doubtlessly prove profitable to push this out to the wider world.” He put the cube into his inventory. “How about it, would an agreement to prioritize the NTC in the international elemental extreme metal trade serve as enough recompense?”

The Gamer had by now worked out why Lydia was saying nothing, only sipping on the glass of water she had ordered to her meal. When she had first seen the Guild Hall’s ability to create these metals, she had asked that Rex Germaniae would get a monopoly on Fusion’s trade regarding these things. John had managed to decline. Now Lydia had managed to gain herself a lesser version of that pledge without getting involved herself. A prediction of this extent wouldn’t have been possible if she hadn’t known exactly how he functioned.

“…We will discuss the details another time,” Amalia decided, registering that Rodaclam was getting up again.

“Dear guests, I hope the food was to your liking and the vintage of the wine pleased your tongues,” the old chancellor began. His voice was underlined by the steady music, violins and a piano working in harmony, whose origin John still couldn’t find. “It is now time for you to present your gifts to the lady of the evening.” Rodaclam clapped his hands and the tables began to rise, creating more space in the hall.

Understanding the spirit of the action. John got up and moved his chair so people could walk to the still seated queen without issue. Fairly quickly, a row began to form. First of all was Suel. “I understand you like simple gifts, milady, so I bring a simple gift,” the unkempt man announced, lowering himself to one knee. John was a bit worried there would be an awkward scene for a moment, but Suel only kneeled as a form of respect and pulled something out of his personal pocket space.

It was a simple metal cassette, engraved with a recreation of the German eagle but otherwise undecorate. Flicking open a seal at the side, Suel revealed its contents: an array of writing utensils, screwdrivers and other tools, all fashioned from simple metals.

“These tools will be practical for you to wield and the container can be controlled by your powers as well,” Suel explained his thoughts behind the gift while handing it over. “It may look cheap, but I assure you that the enchantments on these simple steel tools are of the highest grade. The longevity is guaranteed.”

“I thank you,” Lydia said after having taken and inspected everything herself. She was thankful enough that not even a hint of the disdain she felt for the man slithered into her voice. “A practical and simple gift indeed.” Suel nodded, got up and made room for the next person.

The electors of Rex Germaniae one by one got in front of her and handed Lydia little pieces of jewellery or alcohol of rare vintages. Out of them, Ria was the most exceptional, instead giving Lydia a pocket watch that she had made herself. In a self-aggrandizing and joking movement, Maximillian inserted himself into the process by presenting his gift of apologizing for the troubles his sister was making. It helped to keep the mood from becoming overly rigid.

A bald man with skin darker than the regular southern Europeans stepped in front of Lydia. He had something Arabic about him. Just a note that set him apart. John identified him as Lord Africanus. Apparently, those that governed that area of the empire changed their name to be the same as their title.

Refusing to bow down, he reached into his dimensional pocket and quickly handed over an overly ornamented dagger. John raised an eyebrow. Presenting the practicality loving Lydia with a ceremonial weapon was a barely veiled slight. Lydia took it and Africanus stepped aside without the two of them exchanging a single word.

“How rude, that seemed,” the next person in line said as he approached. Both his blue robe and blond hair cascaded brilliantly, elevating his pale, beautiful face. His voice was a sing-song that almost rivalled Undine. Objectively speaking, it may have been her equal, but John would have never admitted that. Dropping down to one knee, he said, “I hope this gift will please you,” and retrieved an item from his regular pocket.

It was a simple paper card. Raising an eyebrow, Lydia took and inspected it. After reading through it, she showed a light smile. “Most gracious,” she said and put it away. “I’m pleased that we can agree on this matter, Governor Rada.”

“Your arguments persuaded me in the end,” the man answered and then rose to his feet.

Elisa was next and presented Lydia with a unique lamp. A carefully constructed, self-sustaining ecosystem of bioluminescent jellyfish swam inside a container resembling a lava lamp. It was quite beautiful, all things considered, and hovered in the area between practical and useless, given how unnecessarily complicated it was. Lydia accepted it with grace regardless.

Last before John and Rave was Eduardo, the Knightlord of the Golden March. He, too, refused to bow. However, his gift was less hostile. Historical was a much better term. Calling two attendants, he had them stack a number of tiles in front of Lydia, each a work of art covered in amber. “We have found the Amber Room while crushing a pocket of what remains of the Blood of the Proletariat in Belarus,” Eduardo explained. “It is only right that this piece of history is returned to Germany. Albeit, it seems a few pieces are still missing.”

“Incomplete history is better than no history at all, Knightlord,” Lydia responded, touching the tiles as if she was in front of a sacred altar. “You have my gratitude for this. I will cherish and remember this being returned to my people.”

Eduardo nodded and opened the floor for Rave to step forwards. “Tad awkward, that,” the Lightbringer started, scratching the back of her head as Aclysia and Beatrice stepped up next to her. “See, we knew it was still around somewhere thanks to John getting a Quest goal back during the war, so me and the girls spent some time sniffing around on the Abyss Auction, following leads, asking Momo for help when something was outside of a day’s trip range… ya know, this is the result…” The maids now did as the attendants before and put more of the wall tiles of the Amber Room onto the floor. “Hope that amounts to all of it.”

Whether it did or not was unknown until it would be put together. For the moment, it was expected of John to present his gift. Stepping forwards confidently, the Gamer dropped down on one knee, took Lydia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You will receive my gift later,” he promised. “At the end of this.”

“Unconventional as always, are you not?” Lydia sighed with disapproval. She had warned him to not spend an inordinate amount of time and resources on his gift. Likely she was now completely sure that he had done it anyway. Since she was powerless to change his mind, she looked over to Romulus. “Would this meddle with your plans for the day?”

“Not enough to warrant intervening,” the emperor answered, letting things pass as they were.