The hall that opened up before John was even larger than the room dedicated to the House of Commons and parliament. Accessible from both sides of the building and stretching so much that the curve was noticeable along its length, it was the single largest room inside the capitol. On normal days, it served as the entrance hall, letting people see the growing splendour of Fusion and manned by receptionists who helped the people with the grievances that brought them to the heart of federal matters.

Like the outside of the building, the inside was dominated by white marble. A decorative fountain was located in the middle of the room. The water that sprung forth into the room flew several metres high. Rather than be confined in height like the offices in the building were, the entrance hall went all the way up to the roof. The presence of the two floors above the first one, on which they currently stood, was still felt in two sets of balconies curving along the walls. The extension of the second floor was smaller than that of the uppermost third one. Both were held up by pillars, helping the room to stay in line with the neoclassical style John had wanted.

There was a ground floor underneath them, which they had skipped out on by climbing the stairs attached to the outside of the building. Down there were all of the things that made the event run smoothly, but didn’t look all that glamorous. Store rooms for the tables and decorations, kitchens to feed the mouths of bureaucrats and, today, fill the tabletops with luscious displays of food both to go and to eat while sitting. Other things were down there, such as the pump for the water fountain, a respectable number of offices, the water and electrical regulation, all of the things a large building needed to have somewhere.

Being the designated dwelling place for the named guests for the day, the large hall was less filled than the outside. People had ample room to stand together in small groups and hold conversations in relative privacy. At the moment, this led to the vast room feeling somewhat empty. John expected that to change, given the amount of people he had invited to this event.

“I’ll go get ready,” Undine told him. “Can you send Jack with me?”

“Sure, but why though?” John wondered.

“I’ll have to undress and want to have the dress ready up here to put it back on,” she laid out.

“Ah, right.” John wished she would peel out of the black, cleavage happy thing for fun activities right here and then. However, as she was currently in her human appearance, that would have been a bit distracting. He gave her a goodbye kiss, then sent the Mandala Sphere with her. After having one of the doors opened for her by the staff guarding it, Undine left the hall.

The Gamer looked around a bit more. He noticed much activity on the upper balconies. People were putting up their camera equipment, ready to film the events of the evening. Since room was plenty and the media world of the Abyss small, he had allowed anyone who filled out the official form to go up there. It would have a special charm to have the shaky camera of an individual holding their smartphone show angles of the event not found in widespread footage. It also served to better John’s image.

He was resigned to the fact that his current approval rating was unsustainable, but he was going to try to keep it as long as he could.

The lower balcony layer was completely empty. Both could be reached through stairs by the walls and from corridors on the appropriate floor. John headed for neither, instead searching for any familiar faces. He found none, and decided he might as well eat something in that case. A lot of chatter would precede the official events.

On the way to the buffet, he took a short detour to drop Stirwin into the fountain. The hatchling sized light spirit hopped into the water, swimming around happily in the half-metre deep basin. “You better be ready,” John told the currently restricted mind, while giving Stirwin a little scratch between the eyes.

‘Ye,’ he got a simple mental answer back.

John then headed to a nearby table and sat down. “Dibs,” Metra declared, quickly grabbing the nearest chair and pushing it even closer to him. Wordlessly, Aclysia took the other side. Beatrice was fast enough to grab for herself the third best spot, standing behind his backrest.

The maids, as was usual, wore identical dresses. Elegant was the theme for today and the flowing silk of symmetrical, swirling black and white patterns certainly embodied it. Both retained the long gloves of their regular maid uniforms, with Fusion’s simplified emblem on the upper border, just below the shoulder. Their long skirts were slit on only one side, sacrificing some of ease of movement in favour for making the view of their thighs, the stocking and garter belts included, that little more exclusive. Metra’s dress was almost identical, being part of the same work order. The differing factor was not skirt length, the exhibitionistic First of Wrath had decided to go with a long skirt for once, but in the colour. Silver and gold, rather than black and white, made up the patterns. All three were wearing black chokers. It was becoming a bit of a trend among the more sexually submissive elements of the harem.

“If I may choose your food, Master?” Aclysia asked, and John granted it to her with a smile. It was a barely veiled request to feed him and being doted on by the three women only increased the success-high he was on at the moment. After they were done here today, John knew that he would take everyone willing to the Sex Dungeon and probably stay active there well into the morning. Victory on the diplomatic battlefield thrilled him almost as much as Metra got excited on the warpath. Honestly, victories in general did it for both of them, but John was turned off by the loss of life and Metra by the length of dry discussions.

That wasn’t an issue today and the First of Wrath inched closer, while Aclysia grabbed one of the many available plates and loaded it with food. Fish, pork, beef, peas, and a glass of milk all appeared in front of John while Metra nuzzled against his side. The common theme of all meals was protein. Aclysia knew very well what ecstasy awaited her tonight and prepared his body accordingly. Beatrice rubbed his shoulders with a soft massage. Metra came even closer, grabbed one of his hands and directed it towards her thigh.

The invitation was obvious. John felt his brain roll a Wisdom check and the die landed in a state of failure. His hand slid into the gap of her skirt. Travelled up her defined, right thigh. Arrived at her groin. Pushed into her panties. Two fingers curved into her damp twat and she let out a lustful coo while he fingered her.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing it. With the cameras being set up above and the semi-public setting, the only guard he had against his actions being noticed was how close they sat together at the table. It, the tablecloth, the chairs and their bodies were all that obstructed the view. It would have been a scandal, a minor one but a scandal regardless, if his debaucheries reached this level. Everyone knew and, for the most part, accepted that he was having sex between every meeting and him getting serviced during office work was an open secret. At least during public events, he had stayed clear, however.

Metra moaned a little bit louder, not caring in the slightest about that boundary. ‘Shut up, slave,’ he mentally chided her. Her jaw did shut, but a renewed sound of lust reverberated inside her throat. It was just quiet enough that John let it pass, while he increased the speed at which his fingers moved. ‘And keep your hands to yourself,’ he gave another instruction when Metra was about to grab his crotch. He was feeling risky, but getting a handjob would have taken it too far.

Soon, he had rubbed Metra to simple orgasms. The ancient weapon spasmed lightly in her chair, rubbing her legs together and letting out a mixture of laughter and groans. He followed every intense breath she took and let go, while wolfing down what Aclysia fed him. The maids never stopped in their service. What their Master wanted to do in public, he got to do.

It was incredibly tempting to continue and see just how far he could take things without getting discovered. The second Wisdom check, however, landed high enough and he stopped there. Being caught was one reason not to continue any further, the other that the cleaning enchantments of the dress could only work so fast. One issue of being transcended above even sex gods and being surrounded by a harem of gorgeous superhuman women was that the amount of leakage involved created a lot of evidence of recent ongoings.

‘Best to keep things at moisture levels the panties can absorb,’ the Gamer thought, trying to use comically dry language to distract himself from his boner. Source of Satisfaction had to kick in and reduce his Libido again every second now. Snatching a piece of salmon off the fork and raising it to his mouth, John had another question. ‘How come nobody stopped me?’

There were at least a few women in his harem reasonable enough to stop him, and if that failsafe wasn’t available, Stirwin at least had an eye on him. The answer was found in the people that had stayed at the table with him. The ever-hungry Eliza, babbling Sylph, approvingly winking Rave, and silent Nia, those were all that were still around. Everyone else must have decided they weren’t hungry and walked away from the table.

That, more than the threat of the scandal, made John scold himself, ‘Pay attention to your women, you horn dog.’ It was completely acceptable for them to go somewhere else, having a conversation with over a dozen people at the same time was impossible, but there was no excuse for him not knowing what they were doing.

Part of maintaining a healthy harem was letting everyone know and feel that they were loved. His superhuman Charisma let him take shortcuts that regular men couldn’t, with the internal synergies between the girls and his ability to also fulfil them sexually doing the rest. For long-lasting relationships, orgasms were a healthy addition to a strong emotional foundation, in John’s view. Therefore, the worst thing he could ever do was to give any of his girls the impression they were being ignored. It was doubtful that was the case here, but letting small things slide could lead to big things falling into place.

He wiped his hand off with a handkerchief from his inventory and made a mental note to either initiate a wholesome, non-lewd hug pile in the near future or have a series of individual cuddles. For now, he just ate and cuddled who was around him. He also groped their butts a bit while he was at it. That minor display of public lewdness, at least, he had normalized.

As for why Stirwin hadn’t intervened, the crocodile hatchling was too distracted swimming in circles.

“It zeems I have arrived quite early,” a thick French accent suddenly hit his ears and John turned his neck to see a woman approaching. Her black hair was combed orderly and held in an unequal parting by a gem-encrusted barrette. Under her dark blue dress, covered in white and silver ornaments, was a nicely balanced body. It was almost as beautiful as her face, out of which dark eyes gazed at him with intelligence and a hint of aristocratic snob. Her putting her nose that high was a shame for how cute it looked. “Zhis gala is a well-looking affair, my compliments, John.”

“Thanks, Marie,” the Gamer said and he meant it. Every nice word she gave had to be encouraged. Although his investment into her bettering herself had, unsurprisingly, dropped after their mutual agreement that she could never function as part of his harem, he still had some appreciation for her. Not as a potential lover, not even as a friend, but as a close acquaintance. He still saw her every now and again to let her chronicle his deeds, as was her original reason for coming to Fusion as an ambassador, and during those meetings they talked about this and that. John didn’t let the distance between them grow too short, however. For one, because he had been interested in her once and he could easily be again and, more importantly, because of her close affiliation with the Horned Rat.

Both of these influences on their light relationship sat in the air. One came in the way the harem casually glanced at her. They didn’t bother to intervene in their conversation, not even Metra, who had previously clashed with Marie. As she was no longer a prospective member of their lover-based clique, nobody but John had any investment in her. Perhaps Lydia had a few things to say to the Frenchwoman, regarding comments about Lydia’s then lesser beauty, but the queen wasn’t around. The second factor was physically manifest in a rat-person standing right next to Marie.

“I see you brought someone else?” John asked and mustered the skaven male more closely. Having run a few dungeons filled with rat-people, John knew the differences between the sexes close enough to make that judgement from the way his face was shaped. It was a bit difficult, as he was admittedly on the cute side of things. Light brown fur, almost white around the chin, with big round ears and dark round eyes. The black whiskers quivered as the skaven sniffed, an almost steady motion, making his light pink nose and the tall top hat he wore tremble.

As for the rest of the body, only the skaven-typical clawed hands, feet and the long rat’s tail were visible. Everything else of his surprisingly straight body was covered under robes, which in turn were covered in tacked on parchment. In a very unorthodox method of paper transportation, the skaven had a bag full of it dangling on a stick that he carried with him.

“Can you introduce us?” John continued his question.

“I was planning to,” Marie confirmed and pointed elegantly at her companion. “This is the Hobomice, a wandering scribe of the Horned Rat. Zhe god of future calamity decided zhat he wanted him to represent the skaven at this dinner, as he himself is unable to come today.”

“Shame,” John said and he meant that as well. He and the Horned Rat had much to discuss, best in person, regarding the Remus situation. Only lightly joking, he turned his eyes towards the newcomer. “Am I supposed to believe this Hobomice isn’t the Horned Rat in disguise?”

“Big Horned One Said You Would Say That, Yes, Yes,” the Hobomice spoke in a peculiar fashion. Every word was carefully and wholly pronounced, removing any potential of misunderstanding. It gave the words a bit of a hacked feeling, as if each of them was the first in a sentence, but it wasn’t overly distracting. There was also the typical skaven-speech pattern. “Said, Said To Show You This Image, He Did, Did.” The Hobomice reached into his bag and pulled out a miraculously uncrumpled, piece of paper.

“Written With His Talon He Has That, That,” the Hobomice made clear. “Talon Of A Cruel Bird, Terrible Being. With Glasses, Yes, Yes!”

John just nodded, not trying to decipher what all of that meant. “Well, you’re welcome to partake in the feast.”

“Ooohhh, Free Food, Will Do, Do! Chronicle All The Tastes I Will, Will!”