Outrage of the Ancients Chapter 13: Spreading the Word

I looked up from my phone at the sound of Mia running over to me, grinning from ear to ear, a System window in front of her, bobbing up and down as she moved. Therefore, I couldn’t read any of that, it was bouncing around too much, but at least it was pretty obvious what had gotten her excited.

Then she stopped in front of me, and I also realized that I couldn’t read it since the transparent screen was facing her, meaning it mirrored for me.

I sighed and stepped through it, then turned so that I could read it as she could.

Arsenal of the Soul (Legend’s Apprentice Capstone)

Bind one piece of gear to you every ten levels, gear can be recalled at will regardless of distance and will gain a self-repair function. Complete destruction will delay reconstruction by up to a year.

Capstone Skills grow naturally as your Level does, and are not eligible for boosting.

Currently Bound Gear:

Balmung (sword)

“So, what’s your next Class?” I asked.

“Next Class?”

“Capstone implies that you’re at the peak of [Legend’s Apprentice], but unless you’re Level 50 already, that means you’re getting something else after this,” I explained my reasoning.

Mia just shook her head. “No new Class yet. I probably need to reach Level 11 before I see it. Or pick one, I don’t know.”

She shrugged.

“And you’re Level 10, right?” I asked, causing her to nod.

I grinned. One more Level to go, and then I’d get something cool too. Probably.

“Dietrich, do you know about any legendary armor pieces Mia could bind once she hits Level 20?” I called over.

“Just the dwarven-made gear we found in the arsenal.”

“I’m cool with that,” Mia grinned. “But right now, I just want to try out what I can do now.”

With that said, she lightly tossed Balmung into the air, in a way that she’d be able to catch it with ease, but instead of snatching it as it started to fall again, she stared at it with an odd expression and without warning, it vanished, only to reappear in her hand.

Then, she sheathed it before drawing it not with her hand but her mind, Balmung directly jumping into her hand from the sheath without crossing the intervening space.

And with that, things rapidly got crazier. Dropping the sword and running away before recalling it, burying it under rocks, throwing it as though to impale an imaginary enemy, then zapping it right back into her hand once it had hit the “target”.

Seeing as Mia had already tried out all the things I’d have suggested, I decided to stop watching and actually do the stuff I’d come out here to do.

First, finish up the list of things I needed to do and questions I needed to ask, and second, call the Polizeidirektor.

I mean, I knew that I wanted data on when and where monsters had appeared in Germany, thereby letting me figure out how much the presence of an ancient affected them, and whether they simply drew in monsters or actually redirected where they spawned.

I also needed to figure out how many other ancients there were, and where they were located. And how to warn them. Because shouting from the rooftops about how they attracted monsters would doubtlessly be twisted into the whole thing being their fault once politicians, news organizations, and social media did their thing.

With the help of the internet, I’d managed to figure out that not only was the Golem of Prague patrolling the streets of, well, Prague, but I could drive there in a surprisingly reasonable amount of time. But Mongolia, or even just Ireland, would require a plane and there was no way in hell I’d take a plane, not now.

Even if they flew with all the chaos currently going on, it just plain wouldn’t be safe. I could barely survive in the face of a monster bird on my own, with my magical sword and strength-boosting ring. Trying to do so from the inside of a fragile metal can … no, if a plane was attacked, the passengers were dead. Full stop. Not safe, not gonna do it, no way José.

I pulled up my contacts and clicked on the entry titled “Polizeidirektor”. I’d made it mere minutes after I’d gotten his business card, along with taking a picture of said card and tucking it into the most secure spot in my wallet. Assuming he hadn’t just given me the thing because I’d live-streamed our conversation on YouTube, or at least not just because of that, he’d be an invaluable ally. Or at the very least, supporter.

Hopefully.

As my phone rang, I activated a recorder app to make sure that I’d later have some kind of record just in case this whole thing went badly. Because it could, and if I wound up in conflict with the German government, I’d need every scrap of proof I could possibly lay my hands on.

He picked up after a couple of rings.

“Polizeidirektor Hofmann speaking. Things are currently moving a mile a minute, if this isn’t important, we can do it later.”

Well, wasn’t that welcoming?

“It’s Tristan Vogt,” I introduced myself. “I need some information that I can’t easily get my hands on as a civilian.”

“What kind of information?” Hofmann asked, sounding suspicious. Not that I could blame him.

“Locations of monster attacks and sightings in Germany, and if possible, the same information from Italy, Switzerland, and Austria over the last couple of days. Also, can you map that out digitally, into a coherent overview?”

“Of course we can,” he insisted, sounding almost offended. And while I understood that, I also had to ask, because “German state” and “technology” were two terms that I expected to be followed by the word “disaster”.

Now, I couldn’t remember which branch of the government had been responsible for this particular piece of brilliance, but a few years ago, there’d been a huge scandal involving a government office allowing for the digital submission of forms, only for the processing of said forms to come to a grinding halt. You see, they hadn’t merely processed the forms as they came, oh no, that would have been too damn easy. No, instead, they’d printed out the forms, dealt with them in that form, and then typed them back into the computer. Not even scanned, typed.

So yes, my doubts about the digital savviness of anything German Government-run or related were more than justified.

“I just need to go get someone from IT here.”

Ah, there it was. Or maybe, it was just Hofmann who wasn’t sufficiently capable with technology.

There were muffled voices from the other side after that, as though he were having a conversation with someone while covering his phone’s microphone with his hand.

“This’ll take a couple of minutes,” he said. “Do you have anything else you’d like to talk about in the meantime?”

I took a deep breath before answering, knowing that what I was going to ask for next was going to be a difficult pill to swallow.

“Do you have the authority to evacuate the area around the Untersberg?” I asked.

“Does this have anything to do with Karl der Große?” Hofmann asked, seemingly having gotten that particular bit of information from somewhere.

“Indirectly,” I responded. “Have you seen the data on monster attacks from the United States?”

“They tend to focus on cities, if I remember correctly,” he said.

“Yes, but only if there isn’t something else to draw their attention,” I corrected. “And they really seem to like Dietrich, for some reason. So we’re going to use that. Stay here, in the mountain fortress of Karl der Große, and face the next challenge as it comes. If everything from kilometers around converges on the Untersberg, most of the country will be safe because their monsters will be here but anyone who lives nearby is going to be in the line of fire. So, are you in a position to evacuate them?”

“That can be arranged,” Hofmann agreed, sounding surprisingly agreeable. “Though I’ll have to coordinate with my colleagues in Austria as well.”

That made sense, considering that the border was only a handful of kilometers away.

“Also, can I ask for one more favor?” I asked.

“Depends, what is it?”

Saying “depends” usually came across as a little rude, but honestly, it was something I always did too. I didn’t like to make promises I could easily wind up having to walk back because I’d made them before knowing what they entailed.

“Can you ask around for volunteers to help fortify the mountain? The Technisches Hilfswerk, mainly? Build a proper road to the entrance, get us proper communications that doesn’t require me to be outside with my phone?”

I was, of course, referring to the corps of engineers that the German government had set up to respond to disasters and build bridges, damns, and the like. Most countries liked to use the military’s combat engineers for something like that, but well, Germans liked to have things complicated.

“I’ll have to ask for volunteers,” Hofmann offered. “But if you’re right, and you’re about to be neck-deep in monsters, wouldn’t a military liaison be important?”

“Honestly, I figured that working communications would take care of that,” I explained. “Besides, most of us will be inside a mountain fortress, and the people outside are going to be tough. If you accidentally bomb Dietrich, your biggest problem is going to be convincing him that there won’t be a repeat of the incident.”

“Is he really that tough?”

“Yep,” I nodded empathetically, even though he couldn’t see me. As for why I’d revealed how tough he was, it was simple. The more powerful they thought he was, the more they’d throw at him if they felt he was an enemy. And the more powerful the ordinance they threw at him was, the more his resistance to “impersonal attacks” would come into play. Simple. And hopefully, overly-paranoid redundancy, but this was a clear-cut case of hope for the best, plan for the worst.

“I’ll still ask around if there are any military officers who’d be willing to go to the Untersberg and liaise. Unless that’d be a problem?”

“I think that would be much appreciated, thank you,” I replied.

There was a long pause until Hofmann spoke up again.

“I have the maps. Did someone run from Denmark to the Untersberg on the first day of the System?”

“I believe that’d be Ogier Danske,” I informed him. That was one of those situations where trying to keep it would just wind up making me look dumb and/or untrustworthy. After all, between the people he might send to help and the ones Charlemagne had recruited, even if they were yet to show up yet, the cat would come out of the bag soon enough.

“Anyone else I should know about?” Hofmann asked.

“No,” I told him. “What do the maps say? Can you get them to differentiate between monster sightings and places where they actually attacked people?”

“Gimme a second … here we go. On the first day, monsters in southern Bavaria were almost nonexistent, and most of the critters that were seen were in transit heading … heading in a south-eastern direction.”

“Right here, then,” I said. “Did the radius increase over time?”

More specifically, had it grown when Ogier had arrived, then done so again when Dietrich had shown up?

“Yeeeees,” Hofmann said, dragging out the word.

“Can you send me those maps?” I asked.

“Email address?”

I rattled off the requested address, then followed that up with a “Thank you. And if you ever need help, especially if you need someone to kill a strong monster, you have my number.”

“Are you sure things will reach that point?” He asked, just like he had the first time we’d talked.

“More certain than ever. Levels and monsters both come from the System, so I’m guessing that anything Levels can give, monsters can match. So since Dietrich is strong enough to take on a significant chunk of the Bundeswehr, wouldn’t that mean that eventually, we’re going to see a monster with that kind of power?”

Hofmann didn’t say anything for a long moment before he finally answered.

“You’re probably right. But let me be blunt, that doesn’t mean that we’ll roll over to a new government just because it’ll save us from monsters. And I sincerely hope that this all just turns out to be a pessimistic overreaction. Auf Wiedersehen.”

Well, that hadn’t been very professional. But honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

The last time Germany had had an absolute ruler, it had been because he’d “united” it against an enemy. Granted, Hitler’s enemies had been imaginary, based on the “Dolchstoßlegende”, which claimed that Germany had only lost the war because the Jews had stabbed the army in the back, and there’d also been that whole nonsense about “acquiring living space” in Russia despite there not being any shortage of said space right in Germany, while the monsters we fought were very real.

But that didn’t change the fact that royals returning in an age of chaos could very easily herald the return of absolute rulers. And why that idea sent alarm bells ringing in his head. I just hoped that things would keep working at least somewhat, that this wouldn’t cause a breakdown of relations while he planned how to murder us all.

However, quite frankly, whether or not he’d stay “on our side” didn’t matter. I’d do as much as I could to protect us, and give out as much misinformation as I could without outright fucking over our “relationship”.

And then, the voice of the System spoke into my mind, completely disrupting any further thoughts I’d have otherwise reached.

[Legend’s Guide Lv. 9 -> Legend’s Guide Lv. 10]

[Class Evolution: Legend’s Guide Lv. 10 -> Global Ambassador of Myth Lv. 11]

[Capstone Skill gained: Guide’s Shortcut]

[Skill gained: Ambassador’s Autority]

[Skill gained: Will of the Sovereign]

Whoa.

So, that settled … a lot.

First, I’d been right about the Evolution after Level 10.

Second, one did not get to choose the evolved Class, that was auto-assigned based on … something. I certainly didn’t think I’d done enough to earn the “global” tag … or maybe the YouTube videos counted. Those certainly had the potential to reach every corner of the globe, even if I didn’t know whether or not they’d actually reached that far. People still needed to click on them, after all.

Third, everyone got a Capstone Skill.

And forth … why the fuck was I still thinking about this, there were Skills to figure out.

Guide’s Shortcut (Legend’s Guide Capstone)

Once a day, make a portal to a place you have been since gaining this Skill. Number of portals per day doubles every 10 Levels.

Capstone Skills grow naturally as your Level does, and are not eligible for boosting.

Ambassador’s Authority

Once gained, automatically prove ambassadorial authority for any ruler who trusts you to represent them, in whatever way is required, up to and including a live conversation via an automatically-cast scrying spell

Will of the Sovereign

When acting as your sovereign’s ambassador/guide, you are capable of understanding what they want and are striving towards. There is no element of compulsion to this Skill

Okay, and fifth, all Capstone’s worked the exact same. No boosts applicable, automatic upgrades every ten levels. Also, it was kinda useless for now, since I’d only been here since I’d gotten it, well, one minute ago. But once I started traveling … oh, there were so many things I could do. And so many more stunts I could try, even if they might not work entirely as I was picturing right now.

So, [Guide’s Shortcut] was amazing, and that was all I’d say about a portal power. Quite frankly, I couldn’t come up with anything better.

[Ambassador’s Authority] was a way to prove I was who I said I was, assuming I actually “got the job”, though I’d kinda been working in that capacity the whole time already.

And [Will of the Sovereign] was, well, good and bad. Well, no, it was good, knowing I’d be able to predict and avoid missteps was invaluable, I’d be able to fully avoid coming home thinking I’d done a good job only to be raked over the coals because I’d overpromised or fucked up in some other way.

But that whole “no mind control” thing put some terrifying thoughts into my head. Were there Classes out there that could grant mind control? Or, something that would almost be worse, control their holder to act in accordance with said Class?

Objectively, the former was worse because it could affect more than one person, but the latter … the latter was viscerally terrifying. The idea that all it would take to literally lose my free will was doing things that earned me the wrong kind of Class … words alone could not describe how that made me feel.

And yet, was it even a risk that existed? Or had I just driven myself crazy over what was meant to be a kind clarification that stated that [Will of the Sovereign] wouldn’t literally override my will?

I sighed. Probably. But now that I’d had that idea, it was solidly lodged in my mind.

“Hey, Dietrich,” I called out as I got up off the stone and walked towards him. “I just got a new Class, it’s an ambassadorial one.”

I dropped into a courtly half-bow, as dictated by [Innate Ettiquete].

“Do I have your permission to act as your representative in the world at large?”

Dietrich nodded, turned to me, and gestured for me to stand straight again. “Rise, Tristan Vogt, and stride forth into the world as my ambassador.”

At the same time, the voice of the System told me the same, though in a weird way.

[Trait Registered: Ambassadorial Authority (Ammelungs)]

Basically, instead of becoming his ambassador, I was now the ambassador of his royal house … of which he was the only surviving member. A distinction without a difference, but it was a weird choice nevertheless.

“I’m going to go explain what I figured out about monster targetting priorities to the other ancients I know about. Also, I’ll send out some initial feelers about potential cooperation or mutual aid treaties. If that’s alright with you. Do you have anything else I should tell them?” I asked.

“Doesn’t the government know that too?” Dietrich asked.

“Knowing the German government, they’ll get around to sharing that information some time next year,” I replied dryly.

“And using social media again is out of the question?” He asked and I nodded.

“Someone’s going to turn this into a story of you being responsible for the monsters,” I said. “I’ll make sure the people who need to know, know, and social media is always an option too.”

“You should also drive around the country once you’re done,” Dietrich suggested. “Find some places you’ll likely have to portal to later. Then just use today’s portal to come back once you’re too tired to drive.”

“Great idea,” I told him and hurried back into the mountain to grab myself a dagger from the armory we’d retrieved with Dietrich. I didn’t want to run around with a sword for self-defense, or leave Nagelring in the car after I’d been seen with it. Losing or having it stolen would be unimaginably painful, considering what the blade now represented for me. I found one, attached it to my belt, and used [Modern Makeover] to alter my outfit in a way that concealed it. It’d still set off a metal detector, but at least I was unlikely to get the police called on me for being armed.

As I headed out, I ran into Mia and Dietrich once again sparring. I told her about my new Class and was about to leave, but then Dietrich held out a hand to stop me, turned towards a nearby patch of forest, and whistled.

“Oh, I don’t know how to ride …” I slowly said, but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, the horse will take care of everything,” he assured me.

I turned towards the animal and raised an eyebrow. It slowly lowered its head and gently nudged my chest. Somehow, that conveyed more than Dietrich’s words had. This animal was, well, no mere animal.

“He’ll bring you to your car,” Dietrich said while Mia asked, “Do you have your keys?”

“Thank you,” I said, holding up my keys before I climbed up onto the horse’s back. And then, suddenly, the horse just blasted off, the landscape blurring past as my eyes began to tear up from the wind.

There was a variant of the Dietrich von Bern myth which claimed that he hadn’t just ridden off into the sunset on a magical horse, ready to return when needed, but left astride one of the Wild Hunt’s steeds. Right at that moment, I completely believed that. It would certainly explain how it moved through time and space, appearing whenever Dietrich needed it. Though those same powers seemed to be somewhat limited when it had a rider.

And yes, the horse did take care of everything, taking me right where I wanted to go, giving me some time to experiment.

Playing around with [Ambassador’s Authority] yielded some interesting results. I could take literally any appropriate method of authentication, which included slapping appropriate signets anywhere I wanted them. I’d checked and yes, this included tattoos even, though that felt, well, kinda icky. Actually, more than just “kinda”, I wouldn’t touch that entire concept with a ten-foot pole even though I could remove them with a mere thought.

I’d also figured out that I could summon any kind of official document I wanted, ranging from ancient parchment to one hundred percent modern sheaths of paper. Of any thickness. A single page, signed by Dietrich and “notarized” by the System, or a five thousand page blob heavy enough to bash someone’s brains in with which detailed the exact limits of my authority. For example, I could commit to fighting a war on foreign soil on his authority, but not guarantee that he’d be fighting on the front lines … for some reason. A billion different tiny limitations that I wouldn’t have crossed anyway because they were, as I saw them, common sense. Maybe that was exactly why the limitations were in place in the first place, I supposed.

In the end, I settled on a small heater shield-shaped coat of arms on the left side of my tie. Dietrich predated the medieval tradition of having proper coats of arms, but he hadn’t had a problem with me using the symbol often associated with him, a golden lion on a red background, when I’d asked

And for Charlemagne, if I ever wound up representing him, it’d be a shield that was half Reichsadler, the Holy Roman Empire version, and half Fleur-de-lis. Something for both nations descended from his empire, France and Germany.

Hmm, come to think of it, if I could make a tattoo using [Ambassadorial Authority], could I do the same with [Modern Makeover] … nope, didn’t work. I sighed. Would have been cool if I’d been able to pull it off, but it wasn’t exactly the worst thing to have it not work.

Soon enough, the horse reached the car park where we’d left our car. Our older, beat-up BMW, which sat in harsh contrast with the pristine animal I was currently climbing off.

It would never not be funny to me how foreigners saw this as a luxury brand, whereas Germans saw it as an entirely mainstream design, with its logo gracing cheap vehicles aplenty and the luxury designs almost never seen.

Of course, that was entirely down to an issue of how the brand marketed itself here and abroad, but when watching an American TV show and hearing some rich jackass talk about “my new BMW”, I always thought about this hunk of junk and burst out laughing.

But said “hunk of junk” still worked, so we kept it.

As I was about to unlock my car, a second vehicle pulled up. I slowed down and turned to look, watching a harried-looking man jump out of the passenger seat, followed by a second one getting out of the driver’s seat.

The passenger waved a familiar-looking roll of parchment in my general direction.

“Hey, do you know where the fortress of Charlemagne is?” he called out in English.

Oh, so the emperor’s recruits were finally starting to arrive.

I flashed him a friendly smile, replying in English. “Just head up the trail there, but you should be careful, there are monsters around. I’ll call ahead.”

As I was in the process of pulling out my phone, I saw them unpacking multiple large boxes from the trunk of their car. Technology we’d likely need.

“Oh, can you save any styrofoam once you’re done with the setup?” I asked.

“Ok, but if you want to make Napalm, you’ll need to get your own gasoline,” the driver replied, having practically read my mind.

After all, one could make something that got pretty close to Napalm by dissolving styrofoam in gasoline to create a gell that would stick to absolutely everything as it burned. An upgrade over the traditional boiling oil, which I wasn’t sure the fortress even had any stocks off.

Real Napalm was a properly designed chemical that was stable, burned far hotter than what I was going to make, and designed to burn evenly, as opposed to the chaotic mess my recipe would make, but the makeshift version should still do nicely.

“I will,” I nodded. “Anything else you need? I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it, but I’m going on a supply run later.”

“I think we’re fine,” the man told me.

After that, I finally called Mia and she told me that she’d bring the horse down to help carry stuff and escort the newcomers. And once I was done, I finally drove off, letting Google Maps guide my way.

***

I reached Prague after a little over four hours of constant driving. The Autobahn, and later, the Czech equivalent, was surprisingly empty. I guessed that any panicked driving home had happened yesterday and the day before yesterday, and that right now, most people were bunkering down with whoever they wanted to stay with.

Though that didn’t help nearly as much as one would have thought it would. Any kind of travel over significant differences, driving at a car’s top speed as opposed to the recommended speed of 130 kilometers per hour wouldn’t help much. You’d burn through fuel so quickly that you’d waste so much time at the gas station that it’d eat almost all of the ground you’d gained by driving as quickly as you could.

My driving instructor had once told me that in an experiment, they’d had two drivers take their Porsches from the northernmost point in Germany to … I think it was Vienna, but I could be wrong. Either way, it was basically driving the full length of Germany and a bit into either Austria or Switzerland, with one driver staying at 130 kmh, and one being allowed to go as fast as his car would allow.

The second driver was just twenty minutes faster. Or something like that. He’d certainly beat the first driver by less than an hour.

So I’d stuck with the recommended speed, and been damn grateful I hadn’t run into a traffic jam, until eventually, I found a car park near the center of town and parked.

Now, to find the Golem of Prague as quickly as I could.

Because after this, I needed to drive to Berlin to go to all the embassies. That was going to take a while, barely faster than the journey from the Untersberg, but I felt that going to ambassadors would work best overall. There had to be a better way to go about this. Maybe I could find a consulate somewhere? Or a different embassy? Vienna was pretty close, wasn’t i- … I facepalmed. I was currently in Prague. Prague, capital city of the Czech Republic. Prague, the city that should therefore have embassies, right?

Sighing as I pulled the key out of the ignition, I got out of the car and checked Google Maps. Yep, I could find all three needed embassies right here in Prague. Whether or not I’d get to talk to an ambassador, or if the embassies all actually had an ambassador present was an entirely different question, though. They might have been recalled, and I distinctly remembered some news reports of multiple US embassies straight up not having had ambassadors, something I hadn’t even known was possible, I’d thought one of the defining features of an embassy was having an ambassador.

But I should be able to talk to someone with a degree of authority and connectivity to their government.

And then, when all was said and done, drive as far as I could manage without nodding off.

Once out on the streets, I saw a sign that looked like it referred to requiring a parking permit of some sort, so I wound up taking several minutes to find a machine that spat those out … but when I had the permit in hand, I realized that it would actually be better to visit the embassies first. Because I knew where those were, unlike the golem.

So I got back into the car, drove to the Mongolian embassy since it was closest, parked, and got out, only to immediately get back in, remove the dagger and its sheath from my belt and stick them into the glove compartment. An embassy would likely have security and metal detectors, and if I got caught smuggling a weapon inside, it wouldn’t matter that it had been because I’d forgotten to take it rather than anything more sinister.

I looked down at myself one final time, once more triggering [Modern Makeover] to smooth out the wrinkles that had appeared during the drive, remove a coffee stain, and make final adjustments.

White shirt, black jacket, dark blue pants, gold and red tie, the sigil of the king I was currently representing to the left of the tie, and my hair looked orderly without looking slicked-back or greasy.

Fuck, I was nervous. This was terrifying. I never really had trouble speaking with people, the idea of waltzing up to a foreign embassy and demanding to speak to the ambassador was tying my stomach in knots. Especially since my overactive imagination was feeding me a non-stop list of dumb things to blurt out, leaving me feeling like instead of the proverbial shoulder demon and angel advising me, I had a moron and idiot competing for who could get me thrown in jail the quickest.

I could likely spend another four hours just standing here, still as a statue, trying to convince myself things would be fine and would probably still be nervous by the end, so really, waiting wouldn’t make things any better. Also, just standing in front of an embassy and staring … not a good look.

So after closing my eyes and taking a few more deep breaths, I began to march forward.

The Mongolian Embassy was an austere building, in an odd yellow I couldn’t quite name, with a fence in front of it, and on that fence, sat a massive red sign that likely read “no trespassing.”

But there was also an entrance gate with a guard shack, which I approached. There were two guards within, who immediately noticed and began to pay attention to me, but took no other action even when I was standing right in front of them.

So I decided to speak first, choosing to use English. After all, German wouldn’t have helped, even if I hadn’t forgotten most of the Latin I’d learned in school, I doubted that would have gotten me anywhere either, and I spoke neither Czech nor Mongolian. Therefore, English.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is Tristan Vogt, I speak for Dietrich von Bern, the ancient German king, he has a message for your Genghis Khan. I’d like to talk to the ambassador.”

Hopefully, phrasing it like that would indicate that I was aware of the fact that “Genghis Khan” was a title, not a name. And, in turn, that’d earn me some brownie points.

“Can you prove that?” the closer guard asked, sounding less bored than I’d expected. Somehow, with a claim like that, I’d half expected to be laughed off the front lawn. In fact, he sounded downright serious.

“Any way you want,” I nodded, pulling a document from thin air, a single-page certificate. “My certification is produced by a Skill, I can also use magic to call him.”

Actually, it’d take a couple of minutes before I could do that, [Will of the Sovereign] was telling me that he wasn’t currently somewhere he’d like me to “drop in” on. But I felt the offer still needed to be made.

“Let me see that,” the first guard asked while the second one did something on his phone. I passed over the paper, but while the guard was looking it over, the second one elbowed him in the side, showed him his phone, and a rapid-fire conversation in Mongolian followed.

I grimaced. I knew it was likely nothing horrible, but for all I knew, they could be discussing how to best hide my body. They probably weren’t, but the situation was still making me nervous.

“Tristan Vogt,” the first man slowly repeated, looking down at the document, then his colleague’s phone, and then, finally, me.

“Could I see some ID?”

Of all the things he could have said, that had been the last thing I’d expected. Had his colleague found a warrant out for my arrest, but one that had an outdated picture, so he couldn’t properly recognize me?

But running away because I’d psyched myself out would have been beyond stupid at this point. So I reached into my pocket, retrieved my wallet, and handed over both my actual ID and my driver’s license too.

The two guards looked them over, and then, the first one handed them back.

“Welcome to Mongolia, Mr. Vogt. We’ll call ahead to the ambassador, an aide will come and show you the way,” the man told me. That puzzled me for a couple of seconds before I remembered that embassies were technically a part of the nation they represented, so in a very real way, I had been welcomed to Mongolia.

Then he grabbed one of those intercom-things from the table in the guardpost that looked like an old-fashioned landline but only connected to another point in the same building, and had a brief conversation in Mongolian, then hung up again.

“Can I ask what you were looking at on your colleague’s phone?” I finally asked while we waited.

“One of your videos,” the man said. “There are many so-called tutorials out there, but yours were the first.”

Ok, that actually explained a lot. And hopefully, it’d help when trying to get into the other embassies.

All in all, I waited for maybe two minutes before a young man, maybe five years older than me, showed up and headed right for me.

“Mr. Vogt, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to Ambassador Altan.”

I nodded. “Lead the way.”

Now, the only question was whether or not I’d get through this without shoving my foot solidly in my mouth by fucking up with the names. Because Mongolian names were, well, different. For the longest time, they had only had personal names, and no family names, though nowadays, they used patronymic names where Europeans would use family names. A system that was vastly different than anything I was used to, and while I had tried to find out what to use, looking something up on the Internet did not an expert make.

The last thing I needed was to accidentally mix those two names up, or use one where I should have used the other, though based on what Google had told me, I should almost exclusively be using the personal name.

Hopefully, sticking with “Ambassador Altan” was a safe option. And hopefully, [Innate Etiquette] would warn me in time of any missteps. In theory, I could rely on it, in practice … eurgh, the System was too new, too unproven.

As the two of us walked through the hallways of the embassy, I noticed that things were getting progressively busier, with the area around the entrance practically devoid of life, and the area near the ambassador’s office as busy as I’d expected the whole building to be.

The aide opened the door and stepped to the side, allowing me inside, and then pulled it closed behind me, leaving four people in the room.

Me, the ambassador, and two nondescript security guards who’d positioned themselves next to the door.

“Good afternoon, Ambassador Vogt.”

Oh, I liked the sound of that. “Ambassador Vogt.” It had an interesting ring to it, though it also made me flinch because I couldn’t help but be reminded just how far out of my depth I was. And the Mongolian wasn’t even finished speaking yet.

“I’m Ambassador Altan, serving as the Genghis Khan’s representative in Prague.”

“Thank you for receiving me, ambassador,” I said, and shook his hand across the table, hoping, once again, that the Internet had been correct about that being an acceptable greeting. [Innate Etiquette] certainly hadn’t complained, but I was still nervous as fuck.

“Please, take a seat,” Altan said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk while he himself sank down into his own armchair. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

I accepted the offer of a seat before replying.

“I have a piece of information that all returning ancients should know, but one I don’t want to shout from the rooftops. And Prague was on the way.”

“So, I’m guessing you’ve already been to or are planning to visit the English and Irish embassies?” Altan asked.

“Yes, I’ll visit them after this meeting,” I said, before my mind caught up to what he’d said. “Why the English embassy?”

“A couple of hours ago, the United Kingdom held a press conference announcing the return of King Arthur Pendragon,” Altan informed me.

“Ah, I was driving at the time,” I explained.

Altan nodded in understanding.

“And what is the information that the Genghis Khan should know?”

“Monsters are attracted to ancients,” I warned. “If he is in Ulaanbataar when the second Challenge begins, your capital will become a battleground. But if he is outside the city, he can dictate the field of battle. And if he’s close enough, he can even ensure that any monsters that would attack the capital would instead go after his position.”

“I see,” Altan nodded.

“I don’t have enough data to know how great a distance monsters are drawn in from, but the maximum range seems to lie somewhere around 100 kilometers,” I added. “I have some map data on monster sightings in Germany and the effects that our three ancients had on their movements and attack locations that I can send you. As well as a collection of similar data from the United States, which demonstrates that in the absence of an ancient to target, they’ll go after cities.”

Altan nodded a third time. “Thank you. I’ll pass your information and proof along to the Genghis Khan. He’ll appreciate the information, and open to a more formal relationship.”

Now, it was my turn to nod. “That brings me to the second part of why I’m here. Chances are, in a few more challenges, no regular person or even ancient is going to be able to defeat everything on their own. As a representative of Dietrich von Bern, I’d like to lay the groundwork for a joint effort to keep the Earth safe. International disagreements are secondary to safeguarding the planet, they won’t matter if we’re no longer alive to fight about them.”

Altan laughed softly at that.

“We’ve received orders to that end as well, in essence.”

Let me guess, it was something along the lines of “anyone who’s still alive in the other countries is another buffer between us and the monsters.”

Of course, I was smart enough to not say that out loud, but that was probably it.

“Then that would be a good basis for a mutual aid treaty,” I suggested. “Something along the lines of ‘monsters beyond the strength of a single ancient, therefore requiring help to defeat, will be taken on as a coalition’, with allowances being made for domestic issues to be cleared up before aid is given, if the issues are big enough.”

“Kill the local Field Bosses before traveling abroad to help with Raid Bosses,” Altan rephrased, and I barely managed to keep the surprise off my face.

I hadn’t expected him to be this deep into the System’s lore, especially since no one had “officially” announced that those were categories of monsters available.

“Exactly.”

“I think that’s a workable basis for a treaty,” Altan said.

I also briefly considered asking him to contact the embassy in Vienna, and tell him that I’d likely be contacting it instead since it was closer, but then decided against it. It was only half an hour closer, and I figured staying with an embassy and ambassador I seemed to get along with reasonably well was the better option.

There was also probably a consulate in Munich, though a consul didn’t have the same breadth of authority as an ambassador, I should probably stick to embassies.

We wound up talking for another half hour, hammering out a proper basis for a treaty, though nothing was formally signed.

Eventually, we bade each other goodbye, I left the consulate, and drove towards the city center, where the other two embassies were located.

And as I drove, I got my “reward” for the successful negotiation.

[Global Ambassador of Myth Lv. 11 -> Global Ambassador of Myth Lv. 12]

[Skill Boost gained]

It was pretty obvious what to do, [Innate Etiquette] would likely carry me in my quest to visit embassies. I’d have chosen [Ambassador’s Authority] if I hadn’t strongly suspected that the upgrade involved some kind of “everyone automatically knows of your authority” effect that was way too close to mind control for most people’s peace of mind.

[Skill boosted: Innate Etiquette]

Body language can also be automatically adjusted to match the “vibe” of a situation, or project a given image. The user’s accent and slang will likewise be under their conscious control

Okay, that was actually cool. Perfect poker face, the ability to soften and reduce my rather pronounced German accent, and fully keep slang out of my language … yep, that was a solid upgrade.

I got a suitable spot, parked, and scoured the internet for the whole “ancient reveal” the Mongolian Ambassador had told me about. It wasn’t hard to find.

The British Embassy was closer, so I visited it first. There really wasn’t much to write home about, though. Once again, I walked up to the embassy’s main entrance, introduced myself, and asked to speak to the ambassador, though this time, I also mentioned my role in trying to inform the world about the System. I was soon let in, talked to Ambassador Reid about much the same I had last time, and left three-quarters of an hour later with vague promises of aid should it be required and a couple of crumbs on my collar, courtesy of the refreshments.

Boring, and yet, enough to award me a Level while I was walking towards the Irish Embassy.

[Global Ambassador of Myth Lv. 12 -> Global Ambassador of Myth Lv. 13]

[Skill gained: Burgeoning Omniglot]

Okay, that sounded awesome. Now what did it actually do …

Rapidly learn languages as you are exposed to either them, or people who have different mother tongues than you, slang is picked up after proper vocabulary and grammar is gained

Oh yeah, that’d come in real handy. Combine that with [Knowledge Transfer’s] potential to instantly be taught someone else’s language, or teach the language I learned myself to others … oh, there was so much I could get up to.

Merely walking through the streets of Prague, catching snippets of conversation, or reading shop signs was letting me slowly learn Czech. It was still all Greek to me after the four-minute walk it had taken me to reach my target, but I wasn’t quite as ignorant as I had been before. Progress!

Once again, I approached an embassy, though this time, one of the security guards approached me, heading straight towards me before I’d even made my intention to approach clear.

“Ambassador Vogt?” he asked.

“Yes?” I responded, more surprised than anything else.

“Follow me, please, you’re expected.”

I nodded slowly, not entirely sure what was going on here. Had the British ambassador called ahead? I certainly hadn’t told him where I’d be going next.

So, what on Earth was going on?