Year 213
“I see the transportation went smoothly. Glad to see you, Master Johann.” I rotated domain holders between the two worlds. One of my newer treefolk lords, Baron Threid, and a delegation of administrators were present to greet him when I sent him over.
I could send him over unannounced, but the Valthorns have a huge operating procedure built up for fixed deployments, so I went along with the bureaucracy. Baron Threid’s kind was a rarity on Mountainworld, but he was one of those willing to take a relocation package over the Branchhold. At level 50, he was relatively lower level, but that was normal for those with noble classes. Noble classes and ruler-classes levelled slower, just like those with the higher ‘tier’ or ‘upgraded’ classes, but they made up for it by their ‘aura’ and other ‘state-level’ abilities.
This act of ‘greeting’ domain holders and receiving ‘visitors’ was one I felt a bit iffy about. There was an element of brown nosing that I didn’t quite like, but Lumoof and my senior leaders claimed that it was nothing more than a good practice of hospitality. Eventually, I settled and agreed to let the practice continue, but forbid lavish and large receiving parties.
“Well, I’m here for my assignment. How’s everything?” It was his first visit to Branchhold this year.
Baron Threid shook his head. “We caught another four spies. I’m fairly sure Branchhold is infested with spies at this point. Our spies are trying to weed out the rest, but with so many immigrants, it’s quite hard. Some of them essentially do nothing but feed info back to their minders back in the kingdoms.”
Johann laughed. “Well, I’m sure Aeon saw it coming, so good luck there. ”
Baron Threid paused at the statement. “Would you be assisting the counter-espionage efforts?”
Johann looked at the Treefolk Lord’s misaligned eyes for a moment, and shook his head. Treefolks were not what people would consider ‘pretty’. They were more tree than people, and so their body structure was unusual. “No. That’s not what I’m here for. Counter-espionage remains the task of Branchhold’s designated council. I believe Aeon’s intention is for the council to level, so it wouldn’t be right for me to interfere.”
“Ah. I see.” I would step in if things really got out of hand, but it’s important to let the people make mistakes and learn from them, as long as it wasn’t a ‘lethal’ one.
That said, I did find my tolerance of ‘lethality’ increasing over time.
“Instead, I want a briefing on the latest wars of the foreign nations.”
Baron Threid nodded. “Right this way.”
***
There are days when I think war is inevitable. The system facilitates and encourages the act of combat.
Not just that. There are days when I thought war was good. The system is part of this world’s nature. It is how this world works, and war was how the system and people of this world ensured the survival of the fittest.
The survival of those who could gain the levels and skills needed to survive. War accelerated that process, as conflict ensured and required each and everyone to strive harder to protect what they have, and to survive.
War was coming, because the system encouraged it.
War was coming, because those who survived are better equipped to face the future.
It was a morbid, cruel assessment of the world. Or was it me, becoming numb to this constant state of war?
Despite the benefits of war, it came at the expense of generational learning, because war encouraged destruction of infrastructure and knowledge. War was the equivalent of stepping on others to go higher, and destroying other's ladders.
There had to be a balance somewhere between the two, and I wasn’t sure whether the Central Continent’s model was the best one, even if it worked very well so far.
I also didn’t think it was right to transplant a governance model that worked for the Central Continent to Branchhold and the wider Mountainworld as a whole, because both worlds and people had different histories.
Johann sat and contemplated the briefing, my spymasters had built a basic information gathering network throughout the other kingdoms of the Mountainworld. This complemented the information I gained through my trees, which also expanded outward.
The Mountainworld people fought a lot. In fact, the wars of this era seemed more violent than ever.
The level 80s of the Mountainworld fought each other, and their levels meant the destruction they wrought was more extensive. Conflicts seemed to arise from the smallest things, the rulers eager to shake the status quo with the military power accumulated over the decade of war.
This was partly why there was a surge in immigration to Branchhold, once it became clear to the population of the world that no one actually attempted to invade us. Branchhold’s military power remained a huge ‘unknown’ to the people of this world.
“We should arrange a visit to the Central Continent of Treehome, and establish the sheer gap in power between our two worlds. Once they realise the kind of military power we have, it would greatly ease our efforts on Branchhold.”
What was the point in that, really? Show that we have a bigger stick? Was there a point to scaring the people? Is it not the same as what the heroes did? Their presence frightened the other nations into compliance, and gave them the ‘right’ to have their own kingdoms.
“It’s useful to get some of the nobles to work with us. There are those who feel that they can oppose us if they combine their might.”
Fear. I’d prefer if we were liked, but then again, being liked never stopped them from fighting against us. If anything, I’d like my spymasters to bribe, blackmail, preach and twist these other nations to get out of my way.
After all, why kill when you could convert them or bribe them? It’s unnecessary bloodshed. Money’s not an object for me anymore.
Over the decades and centuries, I watched the value of money fluctuate, and now I was at the point where money is kind of a secondary result of my will. After all, money was useful to convince others to mobilise and do what you want. Now though, with the resources of a continent, and my power, should I choose to wield it, was absolute, money was just an intermediary.
After all, money is just a means of exchange, and also a way for the state to exercise its power to govern. A nation could pay its employees with food, lodging, or any other kind of benefit, in order to compel them to do what the nation requires them to do.
At the core of it, what was a nation? A nation was a means to create an overarching structure to enable the provision of services not possible to be achieved at a smaller scale. Back home, democratic systems generally try to ensure that the government has a ‘mandate’, so to speak, from the people that it is governed.
This, partly, was to ensure stability, to align the will of the people and that of the rulers.
In a world with magic and skills, how does this ‘mandate’ play out?
Frankly, in a world where skills, levels and magic exist with monsters of varying strength, the value of the common man is not much.
It’s more of an oligarchy of the powerful.
Too frequently, it becomes a ‘mandate of the system’. Not unlike the mandate of heaven. The system bestows a select few with the power to rule, and thus they create their kingdoms. Levels create power, and that power is exercised to rule over others. Those who have power and gain power used it to oppress and to demand those beneath them to obey.
I’m aware, that’s essentially what I did. My overwhelming levels ensured I could execute my will and bend Treehome to the direction I want it to go.
It was a form of tyranny, even if I’ve generally tried to have a light-touch. Lumoof once said the presence of level caps was to ensure that no one got ‘too’ powerful, but clearly, the system wasn’t expecting a creature like myself.
Occasionally I wonder whether this was all planned. Did the system know this is what I would do? Does the system have a desire? Does it have a goal?
Why? It was a question many people around the world asked. During prayers, many asked why level systems were created, and lamented how unfair it was. How some nobles had inherited skills, and some had none.
What was the purpose of it all, anyway? I noticed a rise in these types of existential questions from the inhabitants of the Central continent, which I suspect was a result of rising affluence and education levels. Was there even a purpose to it, to create a system where the system grants so much power to those who jump through it’s hoops? The system encourages slaughter, and encourages achievements.
This, of course, tied back to development. Rightly or not, I’ve significantly uplifted the development of the Central Continent, and invested significant resources on magical research and weapons. Tools of war, to wage more dangerous wars.
This was known to all on Treehome, and has functioned as a deterrent from the other nations. Alka’s crystalline bombs are well known for it’s incredible destruction. Their magical ripples could be detected an entire continent away.
Yet, my goal was to end the cycle, and there is a worry, just like back home, that further research and overuse of bombs may eventually lead to some kind of magical nuclear winter. We don’t know how much magic is ‘too much magic’, even if I’m currently quite certain it’s nothing to worry about.
***
On Branchhold, the issue of a constitution was a bit harder than I initially expected. Mainly, the refugees and immigrants to Branchhold had very different expectations, norms and requirements compared to the administrators from Treehome.
Those from Treehome had lived a generation or two under my rule, and their social, cultural and administrative norms had deviated quite a bit.
Form filling was a struggle with the immigrants who didn’t even know what a form was. Things like waste disposal, sanitation and food-processing all had gaps. Even on Treehome there was some gaps, especially between continents, but the other continents had learned from us by exposure. Many nobles, influenced by my spymasters, adopted some of our norms and policies. Even the Triumvirs of Aiva adopted more regimented training processes, supported by my Valthorns indirectly.
All that happened over a long period of time, so the gap never felt so big.
But here, these people never had that exposure. The worse thing was, it further solidified my delegation's impression that the people of Branchhold were uncultured barbarians.
This was something I wanted to avoid, because it was a formula for resentment, and worked against my intention to build a good, positive impression among the nobles, warrior classes and general peasantry of the world.
“The gap’s too big.” Johann admitted in a personal conversation with me. “I’m not sure it’s possible to educate them and get them to change their practices so quickly.”
I wasn’t sure why, but that statement made me churn a little. I sensed disdain and a little bit of patronising in those words. I get that he had a point, but I wasn’t too comfortable with that feeling, so I decided to clear it up. “Perhaps there is no need too.”
“Oh?” Johann was one of my soldiers, and he respected the warrior-ethos of the people. But that was about his only positive impression. There was an immediacy to their life, the focus is on winning the next battle, not stepping back and thinking about how to win the war.
This difference in ‘time-horizon’ was probably something that would need a generation or two to change. The immigrants didn’t understand or comprehend the security we could provide.
Why think about what’s going to happen a year down the road when the demons could invade and kill everyone next month? In a way, the decade-long war was a big setback to their overall society, and frankly, he understood that we could have easily been the same.
Yet it made day-to-day interactions frustrating. It was an experience quite like the Canari, who also seemed to live their lives day-by-day.
“These people lived life day-to-day, and rather than try to change them, is there a way to make a ‘better’ or more ‘productive’ version of this mindset?”
“That sounds rather strange.” Johann laughed. “Isn’t foresight one of the better qualities of civilization? To create a structure from nothing.”
“It is, but I am beginning to wonder whether I’ve been looking at civilization with a far too narrow perspective.”
“To me, that just sounds like chaos.”
“Maybe.”
The strength of planning and foresight allows the accumulation of our efforts towards a larger goal. Something that cannot be achieved through instant reaction and living day by day. There has to be a guiding path, or a ‘focus’.
It’s the equivalent of a corporate ethos and culture, towards some kind of goal.
An organisation this large, by sheer number of actors and players would generate many contradictory forces. A noble in one part of Treehome would and could take the exact opposite direction as another noble. It’s impossible to force everyone to be perfectly aligned. It’s too much effort, and means turning everyone into robots.
Ultimately, it boils down to the question of, ‘what kind of world did I want Mountainworld to be?’
Does it even matter, if its main function is to serve as a massive mana generator to complement my future mana requirement?
Why was I doing this?
***
“How do the immigrants take the rule of the council?” Johann asked one of the relocated administrators.
“Not well. Language differences are getting better, but they are still unused to the way many things are done. There’s also no ‘respect’ for the Valtrian Order, which makes it harder for the Order personnel to carry out their work. The priests are having a slightly easier time, but it’s not smooth sailing either.”
Johann spotted many small aggressions and conflicts as the relocated administrators and guards tried to impose their version of order onto the refugees.
Most accept it, even if they don’t understand. After all, they came as refugees to avoid the threat of war, but there clearly was some expectation gap. They expected life to be similar back to where they came from, not this accelerated-uplift society where they had to adjust to how I wanted this city to be.
This was a result of my will being in conflict with those of the refugees, and frankly, many made the journey with incomplete information.
I could solve this problem by allowing mass migration from the Central Continent to Branchhold, but I wanted to see how receptive the local folk were before I did that.
I also had some concerns about facilitating such a large movement of people between worlds, and I wanted rules and proper process before such things were permitted. The artificial minds could be granted authority to operate the inter-world transportation, and the necessary mana budget, so that freed up one part of my mental load.
***
There was a strange problem that emerged for those who came from the Central Continent. I didn’t notice it immediately because of the presence of my healing aura in Branchhold, but my spymaster noticed it in their field operators.
Diseases of another world.
Those with my familiars, or those close to my clone trees were spared thanks to the influence of my [healing aura], but the spies that strayed further, some without the protection of my familiars, got sick. A lot.
Most diseases were mild, but it was another aspect that I did not foresee. Stella swiftly reminded me of the diseases brought by colonisers during the age of exploration.
The inverse did not occur, simply because my people were generally ‘healthy’ thanks to the effect of my [healing aura], so they didn’t carry that many diseases. My [Biolabs] quickly collected some of these disease samples.
Then we realised these diseases of Mountainworld were made of magic.
***
I eventually agreed to a learning visit for the refugees and the nobles. I thought about it, and realised, maybe intimidation wasn’t a bad thing.
It was the whole idea of a nuclear deterrence. I had the impression that my domain holders already qualified to be my ‘nuclear deterence’. I also wanted the refugee representative to see for themselves what kind of culture and society we had back on Treehome.
Many refugees have their own defacto ‘community leaders’, which we selected for the trip. In total, about 100 refugees would take their first trip to Treehome.
Their arrival on Treehome was a quiet one. I had not fully declared their presence here, so they were shuffled like tourists on tour buses, always escorted by security personnel.
They were frankly awed, the equivalent of jungle bumpkins entering the city for the first time.
Year 213
“I see the transportation went smoothly. Glad to see you, Master Johann.” I rotated domain holders between the two worlds. One of my newer treefolk lords, Baron Threid, and a delegation of administrators were present to greet him when I sent him over.
I could send him over unannounced, but the Valthorns have a huge operating procedure built up for fixed deployments, so I went along with the bureaucracy. Baron Threid’s kind was a rarity on Mountainworld, but he was one of those willing to take a relocation package over the Branchhold. At level 50, he was relatively lower level, but that was normal for those with noble classes. Noble classes and ruler-classes levelled slower, just like those with the higher ‘tier’ or ‘upgraded’ classes, but they made up for it by their ‘aura’ and other ‘state-level’ abilities.
This act of ‘greeting’ domain holders and receiving ‘visitors’ was one I felt a bit iffy about. There was an element of brown nosing that I didn’t quite like, but Lumoof and my senior leaders claimed that it was nothing more than a good practice of hospitality. Eventually, I settled and agreed to let the practice continue, but forbid lavish and large receiving parties.
“Well, I’m here for my assignment. How’s everything?” It was his first visit to Branchhold this year.
Baron Threid shook his head. “We caught another four spies. I’m fairly sure Branchhold is infested with spies at this point. Our spies are trying to weed out the rest, but with so many immigrants, it’s quite hard. Some of them essentially do nothing but feed info back to their minders back in the kingdoms.”
Johann laughed. “Well, I’m sure Aeon saw it coming, so good luck there. ”
Baron Threid paused at the statement. “Would you be assisting the counter-espionage efforts?”
Johann looked at the Treefolk Lord’s misaligned eyes for a moment, and shook his head. Treefolks were not what people would consider ‘pretty’. They were more tree than people, and so their body structure was unusual. “No. That’s not what I’m here for. Counter-espionage remains the task of Branchhold’s designated council. I believe Aeon’s intention is for the council to level, so it wouldn’t be right for me to interfere.”
“Ah. I see.” I would step in if things really got out of hand, but it’s important to let the people make mistakes and learn from them, as long as it wasn’t a ‘lethal’ one.
That said, I did find my tolerance of ‘lethality’ increasing over time.
“Instead, I want a briefing on the latest wars of the foreign nations.”
Baron Threid nodded. “Right this way.”
***
There are days when I think war is inevitable. The system facilitates and encourages the act of combat.
Not just that. There are days when I thought war was good. The system is part of this world’s nature. It is how this world works, and war was how the system and people of this world ensured the survival of the fittest.
The survival of those who could gain the levels and skills needed to survive. War accelerated that process, as conflict ensured and required each and everyone to strive harder to protect what they have, and to survive.
War was coming, because the system encouraged it.
War was coming, because those who survived are better equipped to face the future.
It was a morbid, cruel assessment of the world. Or was it me, becoming numb to this constant state of war?
Despite the benefits of war, it came at the expense of generational learning, because war encouraged destruction of infrastructure and knowledge. War was the equivalent of stepping on others to go higher, and destroying other's ladders.
There had to be a balance somewhere between the two, and I wasn’t sure whether the Central Continent’s model was the best one, even if it worked very well so far.
I also didn’t think it was right to transplant a governance model that worked for the Central Continent to Branchhold and the wider Mountainworld as a whole, because both worlds and people had different histories.
Johann sat and contemplated the briefing, my spymasters had built a basic information gathering network throughout the other kingdoms of the Mountainworld. This complemented the information I gained through my trees, which also expanded outward.
The Mountainworld people fought a lot. In fact, the wars of this era seemed more violent than ever.
The level 80s of the Mountainworld fought each other, and their levels meant the destruction they wrought was more extensive. Conflicts seemed to arise from the smallest things, the rulers eager to shake the status quo with the military power accumulated over the decade of war.
This was partly why there was a surge in immigration to Branchhold, once it became clear to the population of the world that no one actually attempted to invade us. Branchhold’s military power remained a huge ‘unknown’ to the people of this world.
“We should arrange a visit to the Central Continent of Treehome, and establish the sheer gap in power between our two worlds. Once they realise the kind of military power we have, it would greatly ease our efforts on Branchhold.”
What was the point in that, really? Show that we have a bigger stick? Was there a point to scaring the people? Is it not the same as what the heroes did? Their presence frightened the other nations into compliance, and gave them the ‘right’ to have their own kingdoms.
“It’s useful to get some of the nobles to work with us. There are those who feel that they can oppose us if they combine their might.”
Fear. I’d prefer if we were liked, but then again, being liked never stopped them from fighting against us. If anything, I’d like my spymasters to bribe, blackmail, preach and twist these other nations to get out of my way.
After all, why kill when you could convert them or bribe them? It’s unnecessary bloodshed. Money’s not an object for me anymore.
Over the decades and centuries, I watched the value of money fluctuate, and now I was at the point where money is kind of a secondary result of my will. After all, money was useful to convince others to mobilise and do what you want. Now though, with the resources of a continent, and my power, should I choose to wield it, was absolute, money was just an intermediary.
After all, money is just a means of exchange, and also a way for the state to exercise its power to govern. A nation could pay its employees with food, lodging, or any other kind of benefit, in order to compel them to do what the nation requires them to do.
At the core of it, what was a nation? A nation was a means to create an overarching structure to enable the provision of services not possible to be achieved at a smaller scale. Back home, democratic systems generally try to ensure that the government has a ‘mandate’, so to speak, from the people that it is governed.
This, partly, was to ensure stability, to align the will of the people and that of the rulers.
In a world with magic and skills, how does this ‘mandate’ play out?
Frankly, in a world where skills, levels and magic exist with monsters of varying strength, the value of the common man is not much.
It’s more of an oligarchy of the powerful.
Too frequently, it becomes a ‘mandate of the system’. Not unlike the mandate of heaven. The system bestows a select few with the power to rule, and thus they create their kingdoms. Levels create power, and that power is exercised to rule over others. Those who have power and gain power used it to oppress and to demand those beneath them to obey.
I’m aware, that’s essentially what I did. My overwhelming levels ensured I could execute my will and bend Treehome to the direction I want it to go.
It was a form of tyranny, even if I’ve generally tried to have a light-touch. Lumoof once said the presence of level caps was to ensure that no one got ‘too’ powerful, but clearly, the system wasn’t expecting a creature like myself.
Occasionally I wonder whether this was all planned. Did the system know this is what I would do? Does the system have a desire? Does it have a goal?
Why? It was a question many people around the world asked. During prayers, many asked why level systems were created, and lamented how unfair it was. How some nobles had inherited skills, and some had none.
What was the purpose of it all, anyway? I noticed a rise in these types of existential questions from the inhabitants of the Central continent, which I suspect was a result of rising affluence and education levels. Was there even a purpose to it, to create a system where the system grants so much power to those who jump through it’s hoops? The system encourages slaughter, and encourages achievements.
This, of course, tied back to development. Rightly or not, I’ve significantly uplifted the development of the Central Continent, and invested significant resources on magical research and weapons. Tools of war, to wage more dangerous wars.
This was known to all on Treehome, and has functioned as a deterrent from the other nations. Alka’s crystalline bombs are well known for it’s incredible destruction. Their magical ripples could be detected an entire continent away.
Yet, my goal was to end the cycle, and there is a worry, just like back home, that further research and overuse of bombs may eventually lead to some kind of magical nuclear winter. We don’t know how much magic is ‘too much magic’, even if I’m currently quite certain it’s nothing to worry about.
***
On Branchhold, the issue of a constitution was a bit harder than I initially expected. Mainly, the refugees and immigrants to Branchhold had very different expectations, norms and requirements compared to the administrators from Treehome.
Those from Treehome had lived a generation or two under my rule, and their social, cultural and administrative norms had deviated quite a bit.
Form filling was a struggle with the immigrants who didn’t even know what a form was. Things like waste disposal, sanitation and food-processing all had gaps. Even on Treehome there was some gaps, especially between continents, but the other continents had learned from us by exposure. Many nobles, influenced by my spymasters, adopted some of our norms and policies. Even the Triumvirs of Aiva adopted more regimented training processes, supported by my Valthorns indirectly.
All that happened over a long period of time, so the gap never felt so big.
But here, these people never had that exposure. The worse thing was, it further solidified my delegation's impression that the people of Branchhold were uncultured barbarians.
This was something I wanted to avoid, because it was a formula for resentment, and worked against my intention to build a good, positive impression among the nobles, warrior classes and general peasantry of the world.
“The gap’s too big.” Johann admitted in a personal conversation with me. “I’m not sure it’s possible to educate them and get them to change their practices so quickly.”
I wasn’t sure why, but that statement made me churn a little. I sensed disdain and a little bit of patronising in those words. I get that he had a point, but I wasn’t too comfortable with that feeling, so I decided to clear it up. “Perhaps there is no need too.”
“Oh?” Johann was one of my soldiers, and he respected the warrior-ethos of the people. But that was about his only positive impression. There was an immediacy to their life, the focus is on winning the next battle, not stepping back and thinking about how to win the war.
This difference in ‘time-horizon’ was probably something that would need a generation or two to change. The immigrants didn’t understand or comprehend the security we could provide.
Why think about what’s going to happen a year down the road when the demons could invade and kill everyone next month? In a way, the decade-long war was a big setback to their overall society, and frankly, he understood that we could have easily been the same.
Yet it made day-to-day interactions frustrating. It was an experience quite like the Canari, who also seemed to live their lives day-by-day.
“These people lived life day-to-day, and rather than try to change them, is there a way to make a ‘better’ or more ‘productive’ version of this mindset?”
“That sounds rather strange.” Johann laughed. “Isn’t foresight one of the better qualities of civilization? To create a structure from nothing.”
“It is, but I am beginning to wonder whether I’ve been looking at civilization with a far too narrow perspective.”
“To me, that just sounds like chaos.”
“Maybe.”
The strength of planning and foresight allows the accumulation of our efforts towards a larger goal. Something that cannot be achieved through instant reaction and living day by day. There has to be a guiding path, or a ‘focus’.
It’s the equivalent of a corporate ethos and culture, towards some kind of goal.
An organisation this large, by sheer number of actors and players would generate many contradictory forces. A noble in one part of Treehome would and could take the exact opposite direction as another noble. It’s impossible to force everyone to be perfectly aligned. It’s too much effort, and means turning everyone into robots.
Ultimately, it boils down to the question of, ‘what kind of world did I want Mountainworld to be?’
Does it even matter, if its main function is to serve as a massive mana generator to complement my future mana requirement?
Why was I doing this?
***
“How do the immigrants take the rule of the council?” Johann asked one of the relocated administrators.
“Not well. Language differences are getting better, but they are still unused to the way many things are done. There’s also no ‘respect’ for the Valtrian Order, which makes it harder for the Order personnel to carry out their work. The priests are having a slightly easier time, but it’s not smooth sailing either.”
Johann spotted many small aggressions and conflicts as the relocated administrators and guards tried to impose their version of order onto the refugees.
Most accept it, even if they don’t understand. After all, they came as refugees to avoid the threat of war, but there clearly was some expectation gap. They expected life to be similar back to where they came from, not this accelerated-uplift society where they had to adjust to how I wanted this city to be.
This was a result of my will being in conflict with those of the refugees, and frankly, many made the journey with incomplete information.
I could solve this problem by allowing mass migration from the Central Continent to Branchhold, but I wanted to see how receptive the local folk were before I did that.
I also had some concerns about facilitating such a large movement of people between worlds, and I wanted rules and proper process before such things were permitted. The artificial minds could be granted authority to operate the inter-world transportation, and the necessary mana budget, so that freed up one part of my mental load.
***
There was a strange problem that emerged for those who came from the Central Continent. I didn’t notice it immediately because of the presence of my healing aura in Branchhold, but my spymaster noticed it in their field operators.
Diseases of another world.
Those with my familiars, or those close to my clone trees were spared thanks to the influence of my [healing aura], but the spies that strayed further, some without the protection of my familiars, got sick. A lot.
Most diseases were mild, but it was another aspect that I did not foresee. Stella swiftly reminded me of the diseases brought by colonisers during the age of exploration.
The inverse did not occur, simply because my people were generally ‘healthy’ thanks to the effect of my [healing aura], so they didn’t carry that many diseases. My [Biolabs] quickly collected some of these disease samples.
Then we realised these diseases of Mountainworld were made of magic.
***
I eventually agreed to a learning visit for the refugees and the nobles. I thought about it, and realised, maybe intimidation wasn’t a bad thing.
It was the whole idea of a nuclear deterrence. I had the impression that my domain holders already qualified to be my ‘nuclear deterence’. I also wanted the refugee representative to see for themselves what kind of culture and society we had back on Treehome.
Many refugees have their own defacto ‘community leaders’, which we selected for the trip. In total, about 100 refugees would take their first trip to Treehome.
Their arrival on Treehome was a quiet one. I had not fully declared their presence here, so they were shuffled like tourists on tour buses, always escorted by security personnel.
They were frankly awed, the equivalent of jungle bumpkins entering the city for the first time.
