Jefferson Davis, Special Field Agent of the Crystal Empire, was leading a small, 10-man squad of soldiers to the Balearic Islands chain in order to fulfill the following objectives, in list of importance: 1. Search for lost technology 2. Search for information on the Celestial-style tech trees 3. Make contact with the locals (human or other) 4a. Establish trade relations 4b.Peacefully annex the islands 4c. Scout for invasion routes They inserted via a three-set of speedboats, dropping them off on Majorca. The latest intel on the island wasn't as good as it used to be, and the team was unsure if there were any sentient beings on the island at all.
They landed, and suddenly, a bullet whizzed by Jeff’s head, followed by shouting, in English, “You bloomin’ idiot, they’re Empire! You shoot at them now they’ll come back with artillery and blow us back into the twentieth century!” Five men, all of them well armed, approached the beach. Their weapons were slung. One of them had his head hung low, likely the shooter. There was a Freighter anchored off the shore of the island, which passed through the Strait all the time. It flew the old flag of the Republic of Ireland, only with an empty pot with a single gold coin inside. It was called the ‘Irishman’s Treasure.’ “Sorry about that, blokes, Tavi here don’t know what he’s doing most of the time,” the same voice from earlier said, in fluent but accented Spanish, “Welcome to Majorca. I’m Captain Leon. That over there is my vessel, and this is my island four months out of the year. You happened to catch me whilst halfway through a run to Ireland. What can I do ye fer?”
As soon as the bullet whizzed by Jeff's head, he dropped to the ground, "Down! Incoming fire!" he shouted, the soldiers around him all going prone with their rifles pointing inland. It was only after the men appeared with their weapons slung that Jeff gave the all clear and the group rose back up to their feet, brushing some of the sand off of their uniforms, holding their weapons at ease for the moment. "Ah, Captain Leon, my name is Jeff, and we're here to investigate the whole chain of islands here for life and resources," he paused here for a moment to chuckle, "I suppose I should also say that I'm grateful that Tavi doesn't know what he's doing most of the time, otherwise I'd have a new hole in my head, and despite what some of my friends say, no, I don't need another one." He winked at Tavi with a grin, signalling that he wasn't going to bite Tavi's head off anytime soon. "So Captain, I guess its safe to assume you know what and who is on the island pretty well if you're spending a third of it here?" he asked, while at the same time the troops with him finally slung their weapons, becoming more at ease.
“Oh, aye. I’m the one who founded the villages in these islands after the Machines wiped out the local population. Mostly, it’s the bastards of sailors that pass through the Mediterranean and their mothers. And a number of my own,” he laughed, to which his fellows joined in, “I founded this place, oh, thirty years ago now. I spend four months here to charge up the solar panels on the Fortune and find work in the Empire, usually fixin’ up fishermen’s vessels and selling machinery I couldn’t sell in Ireland. The rest of the time I’m either in Anatolia or Ireland, but mostly at sea. That’s true for a lot of us at this point, it’s a successful rout. I suppose it were only a matter ‘o time affore the Guilds came to poke their nose in our business. Most of the islands aren’t much different than ours. Sheep in the south, docks and taverns here, machine shops in the north. But don’t go to Formentera without more than a few tanks. There are still active Machines there. I once hired a lot of Crystal mercenaries to clear the place out. I found one of their heads on the beach two weeks later. We’ve got a demon that lives there, too, he comes in once in a while to buy fish if he can’t catch enough himself. Grouchy fella.”
Jeff nodded in understanding, "I figure that besides Formentera, which I should mention that the mercs are never as good as the actual soldiers," he said, indicating with his eyes he was saying this partly for the soldiers behind him, "there aren't too many threats out here except the occasional attempt at banditry by some pirates? I'm also sure you're well aware of how business would increase, and more importantly security would increase, if the islands joined the Empire?" "So about this demon bloke, Captain, any idea why he's hanging around this far south of where the Frenchies made it? Or why the machines haven't caught him yet if they're on the same island?" Jeff asked, referencing the nickname that had come and gone in terms of popularity when talking about the Demons from France that had invaded the Empire early in the War.
“They better have been actual soldiers considering how much I spent to hire them,” he growled, “They told me they wee off duty soldiers with time on their hands and some empty wallets.” He thought about it, and didn’t seem too sure. “These islands are visited because they’re independent. We’d have to consider it, and it would depend on what you’d be willing to let us get away with. Sometimes those pirates are our customers and our escorts, too. It’s a hard distinction to make between neighbor and bandit when seasons get rough. If we considered it, ye’d have to let us allow us to govern ourselves fer the most part. That’s how it’s been fer thirty years, t’have a port outside of the Empire but not too far from the Empire. We’re a well-placed pit stop right affore a toll booth, if ye understand what I’m sayin’. “As for Groucho, he didn’t come from Paris. He came from Tunis. At least that’s what he said when I met him fer the first time. He said something about having pissed off the Demon that rules the place. I think he stole some coin, which don’t make any sense, because the coins are used to keep the humans addicted to drugs, sex, and gamblin’. Not much use fer coin between the demons.”
"Off duty soldiers usually spend time with their families rather than out performing merc duties, meaning there was likely a violation of the Guild of Destruction's regulations there in regard to mercenary duties. In the future, I'd advise to make sure you go through the Guild's official channels for the hiring of mercenaries. Takes a little longer and might cost a little more than hiring mercs off the street, but it assures a better deal and a force that will clear out your problem, or a partial refund is assured." "As for the self-governing, other than the standard Empire wide procedures, its Guild hierarchy that governs towns, and other than a few seed-members, the local chapters are always primarily run and organized with locals staffing the positions and setting the rates on taxes and the like. Helps make sure that the people know they control themselves. The way the Celestials wanted to run things has never sat well with the Master Slayers. We're an Empire yes, but we prefer to make sure that we're a united and truly diverse Empire." When Leo mentioned what had happened to the demon, Jeff got a puzzled look on his face, "Would it be possible for me to talk to Groucho? Or is he unlikely to be coming in for a visit anytime soon? If there's somebody that would know about the inside workings of a Demonic Dystopia, that alone could prove monumental in preparing to break the holds the Others have over our fellow brethren across the world."
“That was ten years ago, I’m sure things have changed,” Leon shrugged, “If ye’re intent on annexin’ us, you’ll have to speak with the other leaders of the islands. I’m not opposed to the idea, but I’m not going to support it, either. A couple of ‘em have a chip on their shoulder about you, and some of them are French. That last one alone ought to be enough of a deterrent.” One of Leon’s soldiers couldn’t help but laugh. “As fer Groucho, we call him Groucho fer a reason. He’s more’n a mite grouchy. He kin get a bit bitey. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but I kin show ye were he lives, fer a little extra jink in my pocket. The south island is dangerous fer all the robots. I don’t know how he survives it, he’s probably tougher’n he looks. Demons usually are. What do ye say?”
Jeff nodded in response, smiling at the comment, "Aye, French... didn't last too long with the demons... left a mighty big number for our boys to mow down in the mountains all those years ago. I would like to speak to the other leaders first, as I'm sure Groucho will still be where he lives if he's survived there that long. The robots probably aren't too terribly organized at this time." "So, before we start start speaking to any of these leaders, I gotta know, what do they have against the Empire? The specifics will be vital to figuring out what will need to be done to win over enough of them to get the islands to join," he asked out of curiosity, cocking his head slightly invitingly. "I figure at least one will hate us because we killed his buds when they took some hostages, another because we're not a democracy, and a third just because he's not in charge."
“Well, as I recall my Irish history, the last of the French navy sacrificed themselves to prevent the Demons from landing in Great Britain. A whole lot of good it did against the Angels and the Celtics, though. “I know that Francisco was a soldier. Lost his leg while he was in the service, and it could have been saved, but someone screwed up at the hospital, and he didn’t get a whole lot in the way of benefits. Michelango is Italian and thinks we ought to join the Republic ‘o Sicily. And Isabella…She lost her brother and father in a retaliation strike. They weren’t even part of the raid her village conducted, just moisture farmers. So she has a few choice words for ya. “Other’n that, Ophelia is the Matron. All the girls go to her to make sure they’re healthy enough to spread their legs fer the sailors. Louis, he’s one of the Frenchmen, he runs the machine shops. Claimed to be an adventurer, till he took a bullet to the knee. If you want to get on his good side, listen to his stories. If you want to stay sane, shoot yerself now. Carlos leads the fishermen. Don’t talk about taxes to him, and he’s sure to bring it up.”
"Trust me, you'd probably have been better off if the Demons had been able to land, would have given the angels a hell of a lot harder time, though their sacrifice was noble enough." "Service with the Guilds? The hospital screw-up alone is a nightmare, but having to deal with the Guild of the People and the Guild of Gold to try and get benefits is a nightmare, but perhaps if I can convince the higher-ups for get a better system he'll come over to our side. Michelango... if he's Italian there probably won't be much I can do to get him over to our side. Isabella, I'll just have to listen to and play it by ear." "Ophelia doesn't sound like she'll object, and the Guild of Gold will probably help her with her operations... Louis is another I'll just listen to till he can't talk anymore, or at least decides to vote the right way. Carlos... taxes will be an interesting discussion..." Jeff thought for a minute, "Well, looks like my hands will be kept quite full dealing with all of them. Best get started, eh?"
“Carlos would be the closest, he’s just the beach here. Be careful not to touch anything, either. He’s got a strange sense of possession, so he might take offense if you touch the wrong thing. Weird one, him, but I ne’er met a better fisherman.” There was a dock down the beach with a fishing boat. To their surprise it actually had sails on it, and there were slots for oars, as well. There were boathands getting the boat ready to go out to sea. A black-haired man with a slight beard wlaked off the dock to meet them. “Leon. I thought you would be getting the Fortune ready to go out to sea.” “Well, I was about to, when some folks from the Empire showed up. They want to have a few words with ye.”
Jeff looked over his shoulder at the troops, who nodded in affirmation about keeping their hands to themselves. Before they left, he waved off the drivers of the speedboats to head back out to escort freighter that had served as the mothership for the boats. Jeff smiled as welcomingly as he could at Carlos, "Don't worry Carlos, it's nothing bad at all. It is Carlos, correct? I heard you were the single best fisherman in the area, along with carrying the respect of all your peers. Are the stories false?" he asked as he respectfully kept back from the dock, his hands folded behind his back. The soldiers kept in a loose formation behind Jeff, their hands resting at their sides.
Carlos hoisted a fishing pole onto his shoulder, and assumed an impatient stance. “I am. More than that, I’m the one who determines who fishes where, so that areas can refill with fish. Overfishing used to be a problem in the area, to the point that the fishermen would turn violent against one another. I have more than their respect, I have their attention. If they don’t listen to me, they don’t fish. And if they fish anyway, their boats get boarded and their catches seized. That’s one of the reasons I like being here. We get the chance to do things right, and everyone is entitled to what they fairly acquire.”
Jeff nodded in agreement, "Good to hear. Humanity can't afford to overtax what natural resources we still have in regards to food production. With that kind of mentality that you possess, you'd make an excellent member of the Guild of Gold. You see, the Crystal Empire is seeking to expand peacefully, and these islands we feel would, if they joined, benefit both the Empire and themselves further. The Guild of Gold has fairly lax fishing regulations, and if we could gain a man such as yourself to perhaps agree to join the Guild of Gold, preferably as either a high-ranking official of the local chapters or as their leader, you'd be able to insure that such things as the fishing regulations and tax codes are kept fair and balanced. High enough for the governments to be able to protect the people and invest in them, yet low enough for the people to flourish."
“I have heard Barons of the wilds claim that their tax codes are fair and balanced. It is rare to find this to be so. Our islands are self-sufficient. We use your currency because it is near, usable, and convenient, not because we owe you anything. Least of all, taxes. With things the way they are we have no need to be brought into a larger organization, to pay taxes and tithes for someone on the continent. We have our own warriors. Our own regulations and way of doing things. If you want us to join, I’ll want more than promises, and I’ll want to see that we won’t be giving up what we have for the sake of a nation we owe little to.”
"Did I not say that you yourself would be one of the people deciding the local tax code Carlos? You give up next to nothing to gain much. You gain additional protection, access to greater fishing grounds, and the assurance that if you come under attack, you have a true, highly organized and disciplined fighting force. If the robots from Formentera were to decide to expand, do you really believe your people have the resources and numbers to stop them? What if an angelic strike force comes along? How about a slew of Oldspawn appearing from the seas? What if Groucho isn't friendly and is a scouting force? What if you're attacked by an aggressive baron with a strong military? Could your people and their warriors really stand against them for any time?" "As I said, the local Guilds would rule and set the regulations, not a far off power. It would be people like you who fish and know the sea who would set the fishing regulations, it would be people like Francisco who would make sure that nobody is wronged here, Louis who would make sure the parts are of the highest quality. We can insure that every single economic aspect is increased in size, that the people flourish rather than survive, and that your decedents can look forward not to a life of survival, but a life of growth, longevity, the kind of life humans were able to live before the Celestials came and destroyed everything. One of knowledge, of passion, of joy, one where they can create art rather than spend all their lives struggling day in and day out to make sure they survive. A bad season would be an inconvience, not a possible death sentence. THAT is what the Guilds hope for, fight for, and above all else, build for. We only ask that you buy in so to speak."
“You said I would have control. I would be the local leader. That does not necessarily mean that these things will be protected. If you want me to work with you, I’ll need to have specific plans written and drawn up. Not to mention integrating our legal systems, adopting tax code language, and things of that nature. It’s a lot more work than you make it seem like, and I want guarantees. A conflict I want to avoid is if our fishermen go into your waters, or yours into ours, and begin conflicting with our fishing ordnances. And for the military corner, many of our soldiers hold themselves to be mercenaries. Dealing with them will take a bit of tact. Your words are nice and flowery, but if the Robots attacked us we’d be able to deal with it. And if the Demons attacked us, then you or Sicily would respond. As for continental Barons, we’re at least as strong as they, and with a more powerful naval force. Only larger powers are of any of our security concern. Namely, you.” Carlos took out a canteen and took a drink; it was obvious that he was smiling as he drank, but his expression was gone once he was done with his drink.
"If we started violating our local guild leaders and stepping on their toes, our whole system would fall apart. As for your soldiers, the Guild of Destruction is more than suited and already set up to operate with mercenaries, in fact, besides small member dues at select positions, mercenary contracts are its primary source of personal income. Fishery boundries can be easily and clearly defined between Guilds and by the Master Slayers as needed. The Guild of the People has a well trained legal team that would be able to easily sort through the legal systems and insure a smooth transition, along with the tax code language, especially when the seeding members of the Guilds were to arrive. If you're implying that the Crystal Empire would violently annex your people, I see no pressing reason as to why we would, unless you have something we don't that we'd want to take by force, but I would say simply my open presence here, and equally important me not beating your face into your own dock, shows that we have only peaceful intentions here." Jeff responded, a slight grin on his face.
“I’m just saying that when it comes to security concerns, beyond a handful of other things, you’re it,” Carlos shrugged, “I won’t say anything one way or another until I see actual plans and meet with legal representatives like judges and barristers. But when you keep your world, I don’t see any real reason to oppose integration.” “That’s as close to a ‘Yes’ as ye’re ever gonna get from him,” Leon said. “Well if I said yes then it would be too easy,” Carlos shrugged, “And we would lose everything we have.” “Fair enough. Next closest is Ophelia. Should be her lunchtime by the time we reach her, that’s the best time to talk to her about anythin’, really. Tavi! Get the truck, and don’t crash it!” Tavi darted off, and came back with the truck, successfully not crashing it, and led them to the eastern part of the island. What they saw was a quaint fishing village, with buildings of surprisingly fine craftsmanship in some places, while the rest looked like as one might expect a fishing village to look like. When they parked, Leon pointed to the tallest and finest of the buildings. “That’s the Boards. It’s a fine hotel, one of our great’est attractions, and provides cate’erin’ and companion services throughout our fine islands. Don’t call ‘em hookers or prostitutes. Ophelia’s likely t’ shoot ye if ye do.” He lifted his shirt showing a bullet wound. “And if ye piss her off, none of the others will talk to ye. I like to think these are my islands, but really, it’s her that brings everythin’ in. If she says no it won’t affect the others, but if you anger her, that’s an entirely different story.”
