Nightmare Realm Summoner

“There,” Claire said, taking a step back and brushing her hands off on her thighs. “All done.”

Something about the River King’s horde made her feel ill. Even though there hadn’t been anything apparently wrong or off with all his wealth, it felt like everything had been rubbed down with a thick layer of lard that existed only in the spirit realm.

She squinted slightly as sunlight reflected off the giant pile of gold and riches stacked up before her. Even though they’d piled it all into the Town Hall, the smallest rays of sunlight that managed to sneak into the room through the windows and open door were more than enough to nearly blind anyone foolish enough to be staring.

It was little wonder that the River King had set himself up in such a dark room. He probably would have put his own eyes out if he’d allowed the sun entry into his horde.

I wonder what the going rate between gold and Credits is. There has to be one, or the River King wouldn’t have registered on the leaderboards under wealth. But what value does gold even have? Is it useful for some kind of magical regent? Or does it have magic itself?

Claire picked up a coin and held it between two fingers. There was a pattern embossed on it, but it wasn’t one that she recognized. It looked like someone had twisted up whatever picture had been meant to be there and dropped it back onto the coin haphazardly. There were a few traces of what might have been a face on one side and — just maybe — some kind of bird on the other.

She tossed it back into the pile as Mite walked up to stand beside her.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Mite asked.

“What is?” Claire asked.

“The River King. Though I guess we should call him Maurice now,” Mite replied. He reached into his pocket to pull out an old metal key, then tossed it to Claire. “Found his secret stash.”

Claire examined the key. There wasn’t anything particularly impressive about it. The System didn’t make itself known either. This was either a disguised magical item or just a plain old key.

“And?”

“It was a chest. Buried under his scuffed ass house. And it was shit useless,” Mite replied with a shake of his head. “It’s still next to the Teleporter. We didn’t even bother bringing it to the Town Hall. Wasn’t worth it.”

“Why not?” Claire asked. “What was in it?”

“Papers,” Mite replied with a shake of his head. “Memorabilia. Spider-man comics. The new shit, not the good ones. Old newspapers. Pictures. Some old clothes. It looked like some grandma’s closet of depressing keepsakes more than anything worth money.”

Spider-man? Is that some kind of mutant creature? But Alex told me that there were only normal humans on Earth prior to the System’s arrival. Was he unaware of this being? I should probably investigate.

“I should take a look anyway,” Claire said. “Show me.”

Mite shrugged. “Sure. Just don’t touch the crusty socks. You’ll regret it.”

“Why?” Claire asked as she followed Mite out the door of the Town Hall.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at her. “Just trust me on this one.”

***

Claire frowned as she examined the contents of the chest before her. Mite had been right. The contents of the chest were… sad.

Calling them disappointing wouldn’t have been right. They’d gotten so much loot out of the River King that, even with the money they’d given to the people of Blackreach, they were still immensely rich. Wanting more would have just been greedy.

She hadn’t been hoping to find some mythic artifact in the River King’s chest. But she hadn’t been something this empty, either. Aside from the clothes, it was just old papers. Most of them seemed to be entirely meaningless. The System translated them for her, but they still made little sense.

“I don’t get it,” Claire said. She rifled through the papers, the frown on her lips deepening. “Half of these aren’t even about him.”

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“His dad,” Mite said, looking over Claire’s shoulder. “At least, that’s my best guess. I don’t really know what the River King looked like before he turned into that puddle we left on the floor back in Blackreach. But this stuff is old. Probably like thirty years ago, maybe? I think he just kept a bunch of newspaper clippings about shit his dad pulled off.”

“Whitestone Corp,” Claire muttered. “What is—”

“Corporation. It’s a business. An old one,” Mite replied. “I think I might have heard of them, actually. I think they sold houses or something? Not very popular. They used to be bigger, but I haven’t heard shit of them recently. Not that I was involved in that kind of thing.”

“I see,” Claire said. She continued to rifle through the papers. “And it seemed his father owned Whitestone. I see things here about some kind of market. It isn’t translating properly. I don’t think anything on Ayrin was anything like this.”

“Stock market,” Mite said from over Claire’s shoulder. “You could… like, buy parts of a company. And if enough people bought the parts, they got more expensive. It’s how you got really rich.”

Claire tilted her head to the side. “It looks like the River King’s dad. He held a big portion of control of this company. These papers are about business deals he has accomplished. Absorbing of rival groups. Expansion into new land. He was quite successful.”

Mite grunted. “So what? Who cares? None of that matters anymore.”

“What year was it before your world ended?” Claire asked, studying the date on one of the latest papers.

“2021,” Mite replied. “Why does that matter?”

“The papers stop about 15 years ago,” Claire replied after a moment of thought. “And you haven’t heard much of them recently?”

“I don’t think that really means much.”

She held up one of the latest newspapers, which had a picture of two men on its front — clearly related. One of them almost resembled the River King, but the man had become such a monster by the time Claire had seen him that it was hard to say for certain.

There were only a few papers with dates later than this one. They came a few years after the one with Maurice and his father, mentioning him briefly by name about some business deal that had been struck, but with far less coverage than any of the previous papers had given.

“It means more than you think,” Claire said. “Maurice took over this company after his father died.”

“…right,” Mite said. “And?”

Claire snorted. Then she shook her head, tossing the newspaper back into the chest. “Maurice was never the man he said he was. He took over his father’s legacy and did nothing with it. It faded into irrelevancy. Everything he ever had was just… given to him. He didn’t have to earn any of it at all. It was his father’s money that made him rich — and it was that same money he brought with him into the Apocalypse.”

“Damn,” Mite said. He followed Claire’s gaze down to the chest of old scraps. “That’s pretty fucking lame.”

“Quite,” Claire muttered. “But how was this man one of the richest on your planet? If he relied entirely on his father’s horde of wealth… surely someone grew wealthier than them in recent times.”

“Oh, for sure,” Mite said with a nod. “This guy wasn’t the richest guy on earth. Not even close.”

“So why was he so powerful?” Claire asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “The System definitely gives classes based on who you are and your goals and location. Maurice probably got his because he was basically a wealth hoarder, and that must have been what let him bring his money into the new world in a way that made it still count.”

“But what about the other guys?” Mite asked, his eyes widening as he finally caught Claire’s question. “If there were richer people, they should have been equally richer.”

Claire nodded. “That’s my question as well. Something else happened. I find it unlikely that the people on this world who were richer than Maurice would have chosen to abandon their wealth for a different class. Most who horde money continue to do so regardless of circumstance.”

“Huh,” Mite said. “You think someone was supporting him? An Outworlder?”

“They pulled their support. The River King was still powerful.” Claire shook her head. “There’s more to it than that. You’re certain every part of Blackreach has been combed through?”

“Yeah. I’m not the kind of guy to leave loot behind. We sniffed everything. I swear. There isn’t anything else.”

Claire pursed her lips. Then she nodded. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it for now. Stick this in a corner somewhere. I doubt it’ll be useful, but you never know. Rhyss will start taking stock of it now that we’ve gotten everything.”

“Sounds good,” Mite said. He paused for a moment. “You know, there were a number of magical items in the horde. You think I could snag a few? They’d let me finish the Forsaken Grounds building.”

“I doubt it’ll be an issue, but check with Alex after he’s finished up meditating,” Claire replied. “We don’t want to waste something we need on accident.”

“Waste?” Mite exclaimed. “Are you kidding? Waste? On me? That’s not even—”

The air popped beside them as Rhyss materialized at Claire’s side. Mite yelped, nearly tripping over himself as he stumbled away in surprise.

“I apologize. It was not my intent to unsettle,” Rhyss said in his typical flat tone, not sounding all that sorry at all.

Mite glared at him. “Make more noise, would you?”

“It’s fine,” Claire said with a small grin. “What is it, Rhyss? Don’t tell me you’ve somehow counted everything already.”

“No. Not yet,” Rhyss replied. “But there is something that requires your attention, as Alex is currently meditating.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Wess has returned,” Rhyss said. “His mission was successful… but it seems he has robbed the new head of House Crimson promptly after assisting with Brandon’s disposal.”

Claire paused for a moment. Then the corners of her lips twitched.

“Of course he did.”