The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 334: Friend or prey

"Fucking hell."

Mason stared at the handful of constructs that waited for him in the White Tower. The place looked far...cozier than the other tower he'd seen, with plenty of furs and candles, artwork and rugs. But it was also obviously filled with Blake's handiwork.

Half a dozen creepy, faceless statue men turned to face Mason, seeming to inspect him before turning away and going still again. He'd hoped for a little while that meant they were designed not to kill humans, or something, but a feminine voice soon whispered from the hall.

You are welcome here, Mason Nimitz. I wait for you at the top of the tower. Please follow the guide.

'The guide' was yet another of Blake's constructs, this one designed to look a little like a butler. Mason rolled his eyes back to Nassau, then followed it past several halls and doors, past staring orcs that looked like civilians, up an ascending staircase to the floors above.

Most of the doors and several gates were shut, one floor being blocked off completely, so Mason didn't expect he was quite as 'welcome' as suggested. But he didn't really care. At some point it did occur to him that there were several hundred surviving goblins in this tower, and he expected he knew which floor they were on.

He followed his guide like a good boy, coming up the final stairs to an even more plushly decorated series of rooms than below. He smelled several orcs inside, but he was pretty sure they were all female, so he doubted it was treachery.

He tried not to be too disappointed.

"Welcome to the White Tower," said the voice from the hall as Mason rounded the corner. Several female orcs all bowed in his direction, all their eyes save one on the floor.

Mason decided he finally knew what color amber was. The fur robed orc at the head of a table was far more human and far more beautiful than Mason had expected, her body strong and curvy, her eyes a stunning, vivid shade.

Everything slowly started to make sense. Blake was fucking her, obviously, and maybe smitten. It had only happened once or twice in his brother's life, but when it did it usually consumed him. At least for awhile.

"Where’s my brother?" he said, too annoyed to be interested in politeness. The orc's beautiful eyes flashed with a quick emotion, though Mason couldn't really tell what.

"He's...busy, I'm afraid. Locked in a demon pit with his companions." She must have seen something in Mason's expression at the word ‘locked’, because her green skin flushed. "Voluntarily, I mean. The High Wizard, your brother, he means to help us. To protect us from the demons. He is a man of honor here."

Mason said nothing for what might have been a long time. He was thinking about the satisfying, apologetic sound his brother made when Mason had occasionally had to choke the shit out of him.

When he glanced up at the orcs he realized some of the other females were trembling. He could smell fear in the air.

"I cant...take you to him," said Lady Ambereye. "The demon portal locked when they went through. But I can take you to the Grey Tower where he's inside. And with scrying magic I may be able to..."

"Do you have anything stronger than that sourbrew?" Mason asked.

The beautiful orc gaped for a moment, then nodded with a slight smile.

"Yes. We have…a kind of ‘vodka’, I think your brother compared it to. It's made mostly from some grains here that grow without sunlight. Quite potent." She looked to the other women, who practically leapt to obey.

Mason found a chair and sat, lost in thoughts about the Nexus and what the hell he was going to say to the other humans of the world. They needed to figure out total numbers.

Could he fit every survivor of earth into his new tree city? Or were there thousands, tens of thousands, living somewhere on the Eastern continent? It was hard to imagine, but they had to be prepared for anything.

"I worry about him, too," said the orc lady, coming forward now with a bottle and a large cup.

"Oh." Mason shrugged. "I wasn't thinking about Blake."

The cold reality of that truth struck him for a moment. It wasn't that he cared any less, it was just...they were growing into men now. And Mason had too much responsibility to be going around worrying about and looking after his brother. He shook his head.

"What the hell am I even doing here."

"Do you intend to...hurt me?" said the orc.

Mason blinked as he looked at her. Jesus, he thought, do I look that angry? He supposed he might have started looking a lot broodier and more dangerous than he expected. And he’d always had something of a ‘resting asshole face’.

Then he stopped and glanced at his thickly muscled, tattooed arms and realized he'd accidentally ripped off one of the chair rests.

He also hadn't given a single thought to his appearance, not bothering even to wear Eve's Vestments, which meant he was shirtless, wearing settlement pants that were ripped and apparently stained with mud and blood. Oh, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

"No." He drained his cup, enjoying the burn down his throat. "I came here to bring Blake home. But maybe he already is."

The orc watched him, then smiled a little, coming back to refill his cup.

"He is very needed here," she said quietly. "He defends this tower. Defends me. I don't know what we would do against these demons without him. Sooner or later, every tower might be lost."

Mason drummed his fingers on the cup. "And you...approve of Blake's plan? An alliance? Between humans, orcs, goblins...whatever else."

"I think it's worth trying," said the orc without hesitation. "You do not?"

"You want the truth?" Mason asked, staring into the woman's incredible eyes. She nodded, and he took a deep breath. "I'm still considering bringing a murderous pack of players here and wiping out the threat of your people once and for all."

She stared, maybe looking for the bluff. She wasn’t going to find it.

"We would fight you," she said, stiffening. Mason liked the grit he saw and smiled.

"I'm sure you'd try."

She shivered and seemed to blush again. Then she clenched her jaw, sniffing as she came forward to fill Mason's cup before walking back to her desk.

"Blake wouldn't allow it. The High Wizard..."

"Blake isn't in charge. I am."

The orc clutched at her desk at the words. Mason wasn't quite sure what to make of it, except he could feel a bit of heat on his skin, like the air in the room had changed. He glanced at the cup in his hand, slightly impressed. With his ridiculous stats he hadn't been even close to drunk. Apparently orc vodka was a hell of a drug.

"You should know it's not easy to poison me,” he said. “Or really kill me. With anything."

"I would not try," said his host. "I am Ilya of the Vori, Lady Ambereye of the White Tower. And you are a guest in my hall. You may not think much of my people, but we are an ancient race of warriors, who conduct our lives with honor." She sounded a little angry now, offended maybe, which was definitely a talent Mason was learning he had. The anger made her no less appealing.

Mason stood and nodded, wandering to one of the many windows. It was a nice view across the clearing and the woods beyond, the mountains to the west.

"We're probably not so different," he said. "Orcs and humans, I mean. But your people attacked mine, Ilya. They tried to kill my family. My friends. To burn everything I care about and am responsible for. I'm a king, now, or close enough. And kings can't ignore things like that. Wouldn't you agree?"

Ilya said nothing, and Mason sighed.

"I see what you get from Blake, but I don't see what Blake gets."

"What do you mean?" Ilya said cautiously.

"What I mean, Lady Ambereye, is you have this nice white tower, filled with defenders made by my brother. And he gets what? A nice room? He can make rooms out of thin air. I have a giant settlement filled with rooms. I don't see that you have anything we need."

"You're probably right," Ilya said quietly. "We don't deserve him. I don't deserve him. But the gods sent him anyway. He saved me, avenged my family, gave me this, and helps me to hold it. I owe him everything. I...try to show him. I don't know what else to do."

Mason clenched his jaw, then turned to look at the orc. Maybe she really cared for his brother. It was a strangely comforting thought, though he wasn't sure why.

Blake had to have an angle beyond what Mason was seeing. A pretty orc girl and some foot soldiers weren’t enough. Not for a man like Blake. So what did he think he could achieve here?

He stared out the window and drank a few more cups of orcish alcohol. He heard Ilya and her servants talking, the lady seemingly trying to get the other girls to come and 'relax' Mason somehow.

But they seemed ready to throw themselves out the window rather than obey. Mason was glad for it. He wasn't in the mood for much of anything except seeing his brother, and drinking.

"We've been given permission," Ilya said a little while later. "The Stoneblood Clan will allow us to go to the portal."

"Us?" Mason said, an eyebrow raised. "You're going to leave your tower, enter a rival's? Isn't that...dangerous for you?"

"They have demanded it as part of the permission," Ilya said, jaw clenching. "And…my constructs cannot leave the tower. Can I rely on you to...protect me, if required? On behalf of your brother...who is my...friend and ally?"

Mason snorted, turning to look into those exotic amber eyes. He thought of the words of his 'House', that it had only friends, and prey.

"Either you’re really Blake’s ally, or you’ve lied to me, and I’m about to find out. Either way, Lady Ambereye, you don’t need to worry about those orcs."

Ilya slowly nodded and seemed to be shivering again. Mason decided it must be fear. The idea no longer bothered him.