Monroe

Chapter Four Hundred and Eleven. Basking in her necromantic power.

Chapter Four Hundred and Eleven. Basking in her necromantic power.

Carol-Ann straightened her shoulders and ran her fingers across her hair one last time. She'd told herself that it was normal to be nervous. It wasn't every day that you met the President of the United States, at least not if you were a simple nurse from Los Angeles.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She might have been a nurse from Los Angeles, but her work with Harveste Eilodon on a pill to cure cancer had started her down a strange road that rendered her much more than a simple nurse. She shifted her weight, and winced as the chair beneath her creaked.

The furniture in the White House was meticulously maintained, but the sad truth was that it hadn't been made for people who had reached tier six.

Carol-Ann was at the peak of tier six, and had been for a year. She was holding off on advancing, based on a theory that was gaining quite a bit of traction amongst runners. The theory suggested that the more achievements you held, the better your path was likely to be.

Three years of work had finally come together for Carol-Ann.

New Achievement!

Through Death, Life.

Through long and intense study, you have learned the nature of the viruses that afflict your species. You have taken the power of Death, and applied it to destroy these viruses while leaving the host unharmed.

You have offered this knowledge to others freely, asking for no material reward. This has significantly increased the value of this achievement.

Reward : User is granted the Divine School of Necromancy as Enduring Affinity, as well as unlocking both school thresholds without the need to allocate a skill point.

She'd taken what Harv had done, targeting cancer cells, and had gone further. She hadn't been able to crack the problem until she had finally pushed her Necros Blast spell past level one hundred, but once she had, it had come together.

What she had created wasn't a panacea, each batch of pills that she created was for a specific virus, although thankfully, it worked broadly enough that slight mutations from one strain to another were still impacted. Her focus had been on influenza, but her work could be applied to others as well.

The problem she'd encountered was two-fold. First, the FDA was still an active, functioning agency, and with the advent of instantaneous healing magic, they were feeling a loss of purpose. Second, despite all the work Harv had done for all the people that had been saved, there was still an almost knee-jerk reaction to the word 'Necromancy.'

Carol-Ann didn't have friends in high places, but she'd sent her work to one of the professors who still taught at UCLA, and he'd reached out others, and together they'd managed to arrange a meeting for her.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a tall man, clearly tier six, stepped away from the door where he was posted and gestured toward her. "The President will see you now," he said, opening the door for her.

She stood up and brushed her hands on the back of her slacks as she nodded to the man as she stepped past him, pausing for a moment to appreciate the fact that she was actually in the Oval Office. The door closed behind her, and the woman standing in front of the desk smiled at her as she stepped forward and offered her a handshake.

"Madam President," Carol-Ann said carefully, shaking her hand.

"Welcome to the White House," the president responded, gesturing toward a pair of chairs facing each other. "I understand that you've accomplished a dream of time immemorial, the cure for the common cold."

"I have," Carol-Ann agreed, sitting down across from the president. "Although it's more than that, with the correct knowledge you could use it to kill nearly any virus."

"Even in an age of magic, that stands as an amazing accomplishment," President Hartford smiled brilliantly. "The email I received from California's Governor, as well as both its Senators, implied that you were having difficulties at the federal level."

"The FDA is giving me the run-around," Carol-Ann blurted out. "I know I'm not a doctor, but I've followed every procedure they've outlined. It's almost like they don't want the cure."

The President shook her head. "They may very well not," she replied darkly. "Most of the government agencies have been revised over the past few years, with an eye toward shedding the bloat. Now that we can't simply print money, we've had to turn an eye on efficiency, and if there is one thing the government has never been, it's efficient. It's almost disgusting how many people were working on cancer treatments and how many people the FDA employed to regulate them. I wouldn't be surprised to find that your association with Harveste Eilodon has generated no small amount of discontent amongst those who are still there."

Carol-Ann nodded. She'd been vilified more than once because of her having worked with Harv, but she'd remained steadfast in her belief that Harv was a good man.

"That said," President Hartford continued, "It might very well just be a matter of the person or persons reviewing the application for approval not fully understanding what it is you're offering. The FDA is still operating under the same parameters, in terms of review, testing, and clinical trials, that it was before the System arrived." She sighed. "When the System arrived, and the dollar collapsed overnight, we were suddenly faced with having to operate the federal government on a devastatingly small budget. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, more crystals should have been allocated to the Department of Transportation," she chuckled ruefully. "The FDA was one of many agencies who didn't actually have a budget for the first six months. The people employed there received housing and food vouchers, just like everyone else, but it took a while for us to be able to actually offer salaries again. We lost a lot of good people during that time, which has left the FDA amongst the many agencies that are overwhelmingly understaffed. Do you know how many pending applications they have healing potions?"

"I don't," Carol-Ann admitted.

"Over four thousand," President Hartford said with a smile that contained a hint of a grimace. "Each one contains materials obtained from specific Dungeons, which means the FDA has to collect samples of each of those ingredients for testing."

Carol-Ann blinked. She hadn't thought of that, as her work involved using specific, directed magic rather than the properties of various substances.

"I didn't know that until I was being briefed for our meeting," The President said conspiratorally. "One of my favorite quotes, which I've found is often applicable when it comes to our government, is 'Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.' I'm going to have your application resubmitted, this time through the executive branch. That should get it the attention it deserves."

"Thank you, Madam President," Carol-Ann smiled. "I just want to get it out there. Right now, it's hard to be taken seriously, as I'm just a nurse, not a doctor, and a lot of people have a prejudice against Nercomancy, which doesn't help."

"Oh, you're hardly 'just a nurse,'" President Hartford disagreed. "Your work with Harveste Eilodon resulted in the cure for cancer, and you are likely the most powerful Necromancer in the country. While that word has frightening connotations, the work you've done speaks volumes for your character, and the good you've done serves to highlight the potential of an otherwise underutilized school of magic."

The President stood, offering her hand.

Carol-Ann took the hint, and stood, shaking the other woman's hand. "Thank you, Madam President," she said.

"Thank you," President Hartford said sincerely. "I'll be looking forward to seeing cold season fade into the history books."

Elania kept her smile in place until the door closed.

Letting out a sigh, she maneuvered back around her desk, falling into her chair with a satisfying thud.

She hadn't lied to the woman, but Elania suspected that there might well have been a touch of maliciousness when it came to the application. She didn't have any proof, nor did she want any.

She was absolutely going to apply pressure to fast-track that application.

Elania couldn't care less about the common cold. Once you had a few levels under your belt, the symptoms rarely became serious.

No, she was much interested in the other applications. There were other viruses that were much more debilitating that people weren't able to fight off on their own.

Necromancy was an underutilized school of magic. For the most part, monsters weren't any more or any less resistant to various forces than humans were. Physical force was almost always good, as were certain elemental attacks, such as Lightning. Then there were the attacks that didn't work quite as well, or at least not as immediately, such as Poison or Acid. Finally, there was Necromancy, which every living thing seemed to be resistant to.

Millions of teenage edgelords had been devastated to learn that raising the dead worked a lot like summoning, except you needed the 'materials,' namely, bodies, and that Necromancy didn't actually let you unleash plagues. Interestingly enough, that was the domain of Animancy, and a fact that wasn't widely bandied about.

Elania tapped the screen on her tablet, reviewing the document displayed there.

It had been the Governor of California who had brought to her attention the fact that Harveste Eilodon was still considered Persona Non Grata, and had suggested she review the results of the investigation into the events that had resulted in that declaration.

The investigation had concluded that certain company executives had colluded to steal the cure for cancer, counting on the apparent naive nature of the men who had developed it. As the company had collapsed around them in a matter of days, they hadn't been able to react quickly enough to physically destroy the server that had hosted their emails, and the entire sordid plot was uncovered.

With the company devalued and then destroyed, as well as the victim being removed from the country, the only charges that could have been brought would have been largely immaterial, although the notes from the lead investigators suggested rather strongly that should the six executives responsible return from their estates in non-extradition locales, that there was ample evidence and reason to charge them.

That part of the report wasn't exactly relevant, as none of those people were still alive.

What was relevant was the suggestion that Harveste Eilodon should be absolved of any guilt in the matter, and his presence ought to once again be welcomed in the United States of America.

Elania was eager to sign off on that suggestion.

Over the past two years, Bob and his friends had disappeared from the public eye, but not from the public's awareness. Without fresh material, people had begun to speculate. Some information that had been known by only a few people had become public, such as the specifics of his Saviour achievement, which had been compared with others who had gained similar achievements. Yorrick Wrathsbane had been particularly forthcoming, publically praising Bob's humanitarian efforts. The man had actually had the day Bob had been blown up by the accident at Fermilab turned into a national Holiday in his country.

More than ever before, Bob had, inadvertently, she was sure, developed an international cult-like following. The new pictures, alongside the interview he'd given, had reignited the public interest in not only Bob but also his companions. There was a flurry of speculation regarding Jessica Wright, as it seemed she might be the one to crack his shell, emotionally speaking, while Dave Coffman and Amanda Rigosi were also being examined rather intensely. Someone had discovered that Dave had helped a number of waitresses at his local Denny's gain admittance and grants to attend college, as well as helping them find job's afterward. Amanda had volunteered at over a dozen non-profits that worked with children, where she quietly donated her time to keep their books straight and helped to make sure they navigated the tricky waters of the tax code.

The fact that all of them looked like movie stars didn't hurt. Elania had made the mistake of reading some of the comments about the pictures that had been posted, and the thirst was real.

She had quietly hoped that Bob would fade into obscurity, a living, if absent, legend, a story people would tell their kids about a man who had faced down impossible odds to help others. She had made it known that she wouldn't mind at all if events followed that course.

She looked at the letter that was sat on the far edge of her desk.

Elania had objected as strongly as she could, but the United Nations, a body that remained largely ceremonial and irrelevant, even after the System had upended society, likely saw Bob as a draw that it couldn't resist.

The assembly was scheduled to meet the following week to discuss the matter of Earth's citizens living and working on Thayland. The original contract that the Emperor of Thayland had offered was set to expire, and many of the nations were desperate to retrieve their people now that they had gained a significant number of levels.

Bob, who was one of the people who had spent the most time on Thayland, although his recent absence made the gap rather narrow, was being requested to appear and offer his knowledge, despite Elania having pointed out that the man was, at best, a private citizen, and at worse, a citizen of Thayland.

With a sigh, she put her hands on her keyboard, and began typing.

"What?" Bob mumbled as he read the email.

There was only one person who had this particular email address, which was forty-eight random characters attached to a .gov domain. It had been given to him by the President, along with a corresponding address for her that looked much the same. He'd been uncomfortable at the idea of having that sort of access to the President, but she'd explained that if something was important but not urgent, it was more convenient than a phone call. She had then gone on to reiterate that if he was about to make an executive decision that was going to annoy some executives, he should feel free to call.

Sometimes Bob thought that the President didn't trust him.

Now she was warning him that the United Nations was looking for him because they wanted his input on the renegotiations between Thayland and Earth regarding the taxes gathered from people from Earth delving in Thayland.

Bob thought that they were fucking insane. You didn't negotiate with Dragons, particularly that Dragon. You did your best to make sure he was in a good mood, and then you took what he offered.

He hadn't been there when Kellan had teleported the assembly chamber of the United Nations to Thayland, but he had to wonder if they'd all just forgotten about that or if everyone there had been replaced by now? The President had been there, and he was happy to see that she shared his misgivings.

She had explained that they were probably more interested in Bob as a publicity tool than in his opinions, which made him feel even more uncomfortable with the whole idea.

He sighed. He'd end up going because as much as he didn't want anything to do with the 'negotiations,' he didn't want to see any trouble between Earth and Thayland. Hopefully, they would listen when he explained that Kellan was a Dragon and that they tasted good with ketchup.