"Before I agree to anything, would anyone like to tell me, what Wilson is going to say? You could spite him." I offered to the crowd.

Wilson stopped smiling and took his feet off the table.

The room was very quiet for a long time. Finally Lachlan spoke. "I wish I could, but I don't know what it could be. Scale decay is a save or die thing. We can't fix that many die rolls. Not without pissing the audience off. That would break immersion."

Lee glared at me, "I know and I am not going to tell you."

"He was cheering on your beating just a few minutes ago," I pointed out.

"You were the big, dumb, hair-" Lee started.

"Anyone got any ideas and grudges against Wilson?" I asked. Lee's insult was beneath me. He was legitimately bad at insults.

Denise looked between me and Wislon. She made that round a second time. After the third round I decided she was stuck in that loop and wasn't going to help me.

It was probably a dry well but nothing ventured, "What do you got Brandon?"

Brandon considered for a moment, "Ultimately Doug, while you are a valued member of the story telling team, Wilson has been a consistent collaborator with me, and… friend."

"Okay you don't know," I turned to Lindsey, "What about you Lindsey?"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't tell you if I did," She said with a polite smile. She was enjoying watching me run out of options. …fair, she was evil, and I had opposed her.

"Antartica team?" I asked.

"Yoder, don't tell him. Trust me," Wilson said.

The guy, Yoder, shrugged, "You may be backed in a corner there Doug. Wilson used to be a continuity team member before he became Nadia's Narrator."

"Also I still have the evidence," Wilson added.

Yoder nodded, 'That too."

I shot a glance at Wilson. He grinned at me.

"Hey Grace, want to tell me how to stop the goblins from dying?" I asked.

Wilson's smile faltered again.

Everyone turned to watch Grace. I could see a fundamental war being fought behind her eyes. Grace wanted me dead. I was a major disruption to her control of the Narrative. She had also more or less figured out that I was the source of the system cutting in and out. Currently she couldn't prove that. That all translated to her not wanting to help me. Not even indirectly. On the other hand, while I was her problem, Wilson was her enemy. They were in an active fight for control, and every win he got was a de facto loss for her. So this was an opportunity for her to publicly hand him a loss.

I stayed quiet. So did Wilson. We had both correctly realized Grace didn't like it when either of us talked. It was satisfying seeing Wilson uncertain.

Shame I didn't get to see him be disappointed.

"I am going to have to decline to offer you the answer, Doug. Wilson is doing good work in supporting the current arc and our story both in North America and around the world. " Grace said flatly.

Wilson was back to his grinning.

There was one actual final, last ditch option, bad faith negotiation, " If I take Wilson's deal then Lee can't have a demon lord pop up."

"Actually that is probably for the best," Wilson agreed. Ah shit!

"What the fuck?" Lee yelled.

"Still don't want to tell me?' I asked him. I sounded calm, but I desperately hoped he would cave.

"Before you answer that, Lee lets look at things a bit. I know Mr. Smith signed off, but since this is now part of the discussion again I do have a few notes," Wilson said. He sounded respectful and collaborative. I hated that, almost as much as I hate Snow lions.

Mr. Smith studied all of us for a moment. "Alright Wilson, let's hear it. What are your concerns."

Lee shattered the glass in his hand. He just squeezed it too hard in surprise.

Wilson stood up, "My main concerns are two fold. First there has been little to no build up for the rise of a demon lord. Something like that is going to disrupt basically every plot in the area and having it pop up out of nowhere is going to piss a lot of people off."

"Like the random dragon in your story?" Lee accused.

"That was Denise's idea," Wilson pointed out, "Also the Kid is on a travel arc. Bumbling into things is a fact of life in such stories. Is the Kingdom of Righteous Progression on the move? No. Also let's not pretend that didn't connect to bigger things. Plus Denise is using that for plot progression after the tower."

I looked at Denise. She gave me an awkward smile, but didn't say anything.

Mr. Smith was making notes in his file, "What is the second concern?"

Wilson cleared his throat, "The Demon Lord would not be a player. A contingency like that would necessitate one of us to step into the role. We don't have the personnel for it."

"You could fill that role," Mr. Smith said.

Lee paled visibly.

"And if you need me to, I will do it without complaint. I may not be able to help mentor Denise as much as I used to, but she is already up there with Lindsey and Brandon." Wilson said, pretending to consider the situation. "However, if I could offer an alternative?"

"Fuck you," Lee said.

"Now, Lee," Mr. Smith spoke up, "It costs us nothing to hear him out. Go ahead Wilson."

"A refugee arc?" Wilson said. When no one said anything he continued, "Think about it. Roughly one in three of the Demonic Progression players have lost their patrons. They are about to be slaughtered by all the enemies they made. So is everyone under their sect's control. They are going to have to flee."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Where the hell to?" Lee demanded. "They are literally surrounded on all sides. The only path out is through…"

"The portal near the tower," Wilson pointed out. "Large population movement, struggles for territory, lots of death, lots of distraction, and we can leverage that hard to maintain the metaplot."

Lee considered for a long time, "We will need to hammer out the fine details, but I am on board."

"That's what I like to see," Mr. Smith said, closing the folder. "Multiple teams working together, and collective improvement in ideas. Thank you, Wilson. Good job, Doug. Your fresh perspective is clearly an asset."

Wilson clapped his hands and rubbed them together, "Well, kid, we doing this?"

"Did you help Lee just to fuck me over?" I asked.

"Of course not," Wilson said, pretending to be hurt. "I did it for a lot of reasons, fucking you over being only one of them." He turned to Denise, "Efficiency is very important in Narrative function." He turned back to me smiling.

"Fine, I will take Autonomous Shadows," I rested my hands on the table and forced myself to not clench them into fists. There is something profoundly soul crushing about putting your all into something and losing. Even in a situation like this when I knew my chances were shit, it's hard to put into words how empty and useless I felt.

In times like this it is important to focus on the goal. If this stopped a mass death for the goblins, it would be worth it. Perspective doesn't really take the sting out of losing, but it helps see beyond the moment.

"Excellent," Wilson said, "You can do that after the tower."

I paused and mentally counted to five, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You agreed to let me decide how you would level. One of the biggest aspects of that is when. Which will be after the tower. Besides, introducing four new characters right before a big fight is just going to be confusing. We want to introduce them correctly. Give the audience a moment to come to terms with a high concept idea." Wilson smiled at me. The Malicious bastard did like to gloat.

"I think that wraps everything up. Thank you everyone, Wilson, Denise, Doug, if you hang back a moment." Mr. Smith said. He stood and everyone else got up off their asses. I stayed in my chair as the others cleared out.

"Doug, please get up," Denise hissed at me.

I stood. I was pissed off, but in the end it cost nothing to pay respect. Also I was still plotting to murder a Narrator, preferably all of them. Sure, I kept striking back at those who publicly wrong me, but if a moment's compliance on my end could breed a moment of complacency on theirs…

I planned to seize the opportunity when it arose.

"A moment Wilson," Mr. Smith said.

"Of course, Sir," Wilson said. It was so goddam bizarre seeing Wilson be polite.

That left Denise and I standing in a corner. Denise made it a point to not look at the statue of David. That resulted in us looking at the Pollock painting.

After a beat of awkward silence I asked, "So, your dad is in charge of… everything?"

Denise considered for a moment and then answered, "Yep."

"I am surprised you have a dad," I admitted.

Denise stared at me stunned, "Why?"

That was fair and I felt less certain in my beliefs now that they were being questioned, "Well because you are, like a weird alien to me." Wilson had said they were from a different world that the system used to be at. I still didn't know if that meant a different world in this universe or if they were from a different plane of existence, or if that distinction actually mattered.

Denise seemed actually offended. "That's prejudice! From my perspective you are the weird alien."

She had a point there, but I wasn't all that interested in exploring any biases I may or may not possess against the weird assholes controlling our lives for entertainment. Best pivot, "You're seems… controlling."

"Oh, my god!" Denise paused a moment, and checked that Wilson and Mr. Smith were still talking, "Thank you." She sighed. "You have no idea what it's like having a parent that treats you like an object."

I stared down at her, "Really?"

Denise took a step back, "What?'

"My biological mom punished me for being male, and my bio-dad tried to murder me after years of abuse." I explained.

Denise had clearly forgotten that. Rather than apologize she changed tracks, "I meant the Titan."

"The guy who literally flung me to the lions and is overtly using me as a weapon?" I asked.

Denise was quiet for a moment, "... none of those people currently make you hug them in public."

"You have me there," I ceded the point to her.

"So what is the way to stop everyone from dying because of my pact," I asked.

"Oh… Um… it is very technical," Denise said. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and clearly began trying to find the answer, "It relies on… uh. Okay I don't know."

"It is actually rather simple," Mr. Smith said. He and Wilson had walked over.

"Oh? I asked.

"Tell him Wilson, it is your idea," Mr. Smith said.

"The kid is a Titan Spawn, and through some specific events a god. Now the kid hasn't listened to Marge at all. She told him to do more god stuff. A couple of the biggest benefits of having followers is they provide MP, simply by having them every twenty-four hours. It is basically nothing. One MP per follower, but the pool is deep, one thousand MP, per god level. It would add to that well of yours, for the record. You could do a lot of things with one-hundred-twenty-thousand MP a day." Wilson said.

"So I should use the MP to stop people from dying?' I asked.

"Fuck no," Wilson said laughing at me. "Scale Decay is a save or die. Gods can lend their followers their scale for the save. You're Titanic scale. The system would then calculate a save for Scale Decay from divine to Titanic. That would invalidate the need for a roll all together.

Ah shit. I could have possibly figured that out if I had spent more time understanding all my options. I probably wouldn't have made that connection, but Mr. Smith was right. It was simple. It was also a kick to the dick to have Wilson pull my ass out of the fire.

Wilson could tell I was upset, "Don't feel bad kid, yeah I kicked the shit out of you in public, and played you like a cheap kazoo. I also outsmarted you."

"Are you trying to make me feel better?" I asked.

"Nah, but the important thing you need to understand is you made me work for it," Wilson said. He patted me on the shoulder.

"It was rather impressive watching someone like you hold your own in a room full of Narrators, I am impressed," Mr. Smith said. He turned to the painting, "Do you like it?"

"It is the only Pollock painting I know," I said with a shrug. I probably knew others, but couldn't name them.

"Huh," Mr. Smith seemed surprised by that. "What do you know about it.

"It was painted in the fifties. A lot of people believe it is related to the cold war and free speech. The color could be seen as graffiti on a wall." that basically tapped out all of my knowledge of painting. Marnie was the art lover.

"What do you think about it?" Mr. Smith asked me as he admired the work.

"I think it's paint. People can interpret it however they want. Someone in the fifties is going to see something fundamentally different than someone born after two-thousand. Kate thought it looked like patterns of sparklers in the dark. That is fairly divorced from the existential dread of a nuclear holocaust it was made under. "Why did you take it?"

"Felicity insisted that this room needed a certain something from the aesthetics standpoint. She picked the individual pieces after I gave her a theme," Mr. Smith said.

He wanted me to ask. Might as well, "What theme?"

He gestured around, "Money. Everything in here is expensive by the standards of the world that was. Money is one of the most esoteric forms of power I have ever seen." He chuckled to himself, "I can't imagine where your ancestors came up with such an idea."

Why are you trying to work with me?" I asked him, cutting to the quick with this exchange.

Mr. Smith smiled, "That is very simple. You, much like the All-Death before you, very quickly found yourself in a position to be aware of us. I freely admit we mishandled their story. It is how we ended up short staffed. So I am going to try something different with you. Keep you informed of the stakes, hand out a little help here and there, and together we can keep this little world turning.

"And you in power," I pointed out.

Mr. Smith smiled. "And, they call you stupid. Have fun storming the tower."

I was back in the tent before I could tell him the line was: storming the castle.

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