Chapter 125 The Weight of Command
The air still hummed with the lingering energy of the recent meeting even as the formidable group dispersed. Each member, with the exception of Oleg, had quietly pressed a hefty storage pouch into John's hand, the fact that they had a weight suggested a considerable sum of coin and an assortment of other items that he hadn't had a chance to look through yet. They departed with a promise to meet up in three hours, armed with everything on the lists Kay and Z had given him along with promises of many other items to be shared their new friend along with comments of that they would be adding any additional provisions they instinctually felt he might need.
"Well the others are out getting supplies and items were going to be helping our special little human prepare for his first real war, Bell. And in doing so, we're going to forge him into something far stronger than he could ever imagine himself being. We," he gestured between himself and John, "are heading to the slave markets now, not just the decent ones but maybe even the seedy ones before heading to the blacksmith and weapon stores. We're going to outfit him properly and make sure his ready for whatever gets thrown at him and his forces, I won't let him stubble forward like I had to."
Sweet Bell blinked, taken aback at the shift in Oleg's demeanor, it was something she hadn't seen happen in a very long time. "Wow. Okay. Mind filling me in on what's happened to you? I haven't seen you this… intense since the last continental war when you wiped out those empires." Her voice was soft now, genuinely curious.
Before Oleg could elaborate, John interjected, a question burning on his tongue. He felt an urgent need to address it before they reached their first destination. "Are slaves truly my only option for building an army?" The words felt foreign, unsettling, a stark contradiction to his own world's morality and even a bit hypocritical considering he already had a few.
Oleg turned to him, his expression unyielding. "Numbers or quality my friend. Both make a profound impact in any and every battle. How many do you currently have fighting on your side, besides yourself?"
"If I'm being generous I can get together have Roughly eighteen or nineteen," John admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "And I know that's a dangerously low number for a war—"
"It's pathetic!" Oleg cut him off, his voice rising, a sharp, unyielding bark. "It's not even enough for a decent skirmish or even a half decent fight! Are you truly preparing for war or are you just playing a game with peoples lives? Because if you're serious about this, about really fighting the gods and meant what you said before you're going to need both quantity and quality. Right now it's clear you have neither, so get your head out of your ass! Even if this wasn't for this specific war you'd still need to build up your numbers! Even if, by some miracle, people from your own world flocked to your side, you'd still need to equip them, train them to fight cohesively and then, most importantly, you'd need to trust them not to try and overthrow you! Something you already explained has almost happened before! This," he emphasized, gesturing broadly around them, "is the better, safer and more expedient option and the best method to use." A small, stern glare punctuated his words "Morals and honor have no place in war, it doesn't matter what you need to do or what dirty tricks you pull. In war you either survive, become enslaved or die. Don't let silly ideals cloud your judgement and be what stops you from doing what needs to be done."
John shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Oleg's logic pressing down on him and his stern tone making him feel like a scolded child. "And what if the higher-ups or administration try to make a fuss about me suddenly having an influx of people under my command that they weren't aware of? People who seemingly popped out of nowhere?"
Oleg scoffed, a dismissive sound. "Fuck them. There are no rules against it! And again I will tell you if you're serious about taking them down and seizing control, you need to do things your way, not theirs! You're still dancing to their tune, following their paths and you'll end up either dead or kept contained like a pet if you keep doing so. You need to break their precious mold! Give them the middle finger every step of the way like you're already doing but to an even more extreme degree. This is how we do it and will make you different from the rest of the sheep!" He paused, letting his words sink in. "We get you people; we get you weapons and equipment. We'll even secure a few war and siege beasts if we can, a surprise means to help tip the scales in your favor. All of them will be irrevocably bound to you so they can't do a damn thing to remove them and they can't go against you. At worst, they can try and make things hard for you by targeting you through others in your world, if the higher ups do try to press and go to far though they risk upsetting those of higher strength and status, destroying a balance that they, themselves had created over centuries, as for those in your world that would be sent to attack you? If you crush enough opposition and establish firm enough control they will run out of fodder long before you do, especially with all of us backing you!"
John found himself with little to argue. Admittedly a small and odd part of him romanticized the idea of being like those protagonists who lead a small, elite group to victory against overwhelming odds but even so he knew Oleg was right. This pragmatic, albeit morally murky, approach also meant a significantly lower chance of losing those he had already taken in, a reduced risk to his small, precious circle. The thought of protecting them solidified his resolve, squashing a extremely small voice that seemed to question if this was the right course, if acting out and setting a torch to everything rather than trying to keep extra focus off him was the right thing to do.
He found himself asking one last question, something he felt he had to ask. "How, how would I ensure I become a proper leader rather than becoming some kind of tyrant?" Oleg was an undeniable expert in these matters, a veteran of countless conflicts and seemingly a good leader with an iron first in this matter if the way the others spoke was any indication and even had multiple worlds under his control. "It's perspective." He began, resting a hand on Johns shoulder. "Others will call you all sorts of things but as long as you're doing it for those under you and putting those close to you first then what should it matter what they see you as or call you? A tyrant is only a tyrant when they work for their own interests rather than group benefits, even if you ensure your voice is the only voice that matters and you ignore everyone else's, as long as you keep your heart and ensure your actions are for something greater than yourself, for your group and all those under you, then even if they called one you will never truly be one." He calmly explained, trying to put it in perspective for him.
Their journey fell into silence after that, letting John process his words as he was led through the bustling, often unsettling, districts of the city. The first three slave stores were the same as the last time he had been here, the slaves treated well and respectable but the final one was a far seedier establishment tucked away deeper in the city's underbelly and proving to be a rather grim affair, the store was filled with silent, desperate faces. By the end of it, John had acquired a staggering total of 542 slaves in total well being told that more would be coming with the others. They were mostly humans but a handful of other races were also in their ranks, all of them experienced in combat or war, yet also possessing invaluable non-combat skills such as farming, apothecary and construction. Things vital for a sustained campaign and future growth outside of battles and wars. Among them, twelve were of particular interest, individuals who, much like Angel and Aria, had chosen to follow him rather than being chosen by him, their eyes reflecting an unwavering loyalty, refusing to take no for an answer. Their silent commitment was both a comfort and a profound responsibility.
Their next destination was a cacophony of ringing hammers and roaring forges that Oleg called the blacksmiths' quarter. The air was thick with the scent of hot metal and coal smoke. Here, they purchased a vast quantity of decent-quality swords, spears, bows, arrows and a multitude of other weapons and armors for his future army. Oleg also insisted on acquiring a significant amount of various raw metals, remembering John's offhand mention of having taken up smithing. "You'll need to hone your craft and to do that you need quality and decent materials," he'd rumbled, "And a leader who understands the tools of war from the ground up is one who can lead their forces far better than one who had never touched a blade at all, it can build confidence and even help you better counter what might be used against you as you would have a deeper understanding of it."
The subsequent store took John by complete surprise. It wasn't just a weapon shop; it was a military armory, selling all sorts of firearms enhanced with magical abilities, alongside an array of fantastical war and siege beasts that he didn't know could exist.
The beasts were truly bizarre, a testament to their home world's unique blend of magic and technology. There were metal wolves, their sleek bodies crafted entirely of interlocking blades and massive, almost dragon-like creatures with formidable cannons mounted to their backs and arms. But what truly captivated John was a small, emerald-green snake, its scales practically glowing with an inner light, its yellow eyes holding far more intelligence than he would have thought possible in a simple animal. The store owner, a gruff but astute individual, informed him it was a basilisk before offering to bind it to him if he was interested in it. John didn't even need a moment to consider the offer before accepting it naming her Iris. She immediately coiled around his neck, a cool, reassuring weight that seemed to feel right, while the other larger beasts and firearms were carefully placed into crates and then into a newly acquired, specially enchanted pouch made to hold them safely.
"Soldiers, weapons, beasts and firearms," Oleg declared, observing John with a keen eye. "What do you think we still need?" he began before narrowing his eyes at John 'Is your mindset properly aligned to deal this this war now that you've had a chance to think it all through?' The deeper question about what lengths John would be willing to truly go to ensure victory and his goals was left unasked, Oleg was using the question as a test and a means to push him to think beyond the obvious, to see if he had the heart to lead and manage war, if not he would get someone to take the role for him but hoped he wouldn't need to do so.
John considered his questions, a flicker of his strategic mind igniting before slowly replying. "A means to help protect the fighters and beasts along with medical supplies or a way to heal those who get injured" he began, ticking off points on his fingers. "Food and raw materials would also be important. Perhaps more defensive weapons like arrow launchers, siege engines and barricade systems, something that can be used for static defense rather than being sent outwards, also something that would force the enemy to act and behave a certain way, funneling them into kill zones or to move how we want them to move. Machines and bombs wouldn't be a bad thing either, for rapidly removing large groups of enemies. And magical items would be good as well, either as a counter to enemy magic or to further boost my own side's capabilities, to try and keep our losses as low as possible well destroying their moral and eliminating as many as we can."
"Good," Oleg responded, a nod of approval. "I sent Sweet Bell for the food, materials and medical supplies. Your other suggestions are also sound and practical. But you're overlooking one crucial factor!" He frowned, disappointed that John, despite his quick thinking, had missed the most vital element.
"What would that be?" John asked earnestly, genuinely wanting to learn, to improve.
"Yourself!" Oleg boomed, grabbing John by the shoulder and steering him firmly towards a new destination. "You're the head honcho, the boss, the leader! You're going to need to look the part rather, not just act the part. So, we're going to get you properly fitted with proper armor that changes to your shape, a suit like my own at least three more weapons that can be kept on your person for any situation along with having the knowledge of their use forced directly into that brain of yours so you will be ready for any fights, be it close range, mid-range or long range!" He dragged a bewildered John into a small, remarkably run-down shop, its unassuming exterior belying any hint of the wonders within.
"Good day, how may I help you?" A timid, almost shy voice drifted from behind the counter. A bunny girl, dressed in a surprisingly tasteful pencil dress and secretary outfit peeked out from behind the counter as she straightened up, her long ears twitching nervously as she shyly fidgeted.
"The full Master outfit for my friend here, with three weapon judgements and knowledge for close, mid and long range," Oleg declared without preamble, his voice filling the cramped space. He then paused, a glint in his eye. "No, rather make it three full Master outfits, in different styles along with a main one for constant use. All must perfectly suit him when he regains his proper weight and body though so make sure there really adaptive!"
Before John could even process the sudden escalation, a flurry of glowing, ethereal lights enveloped him. Measuring tapes made of pure energy wrapped themselves around his body, their touch surprisingly cold as if passing through his cloths. His protective cloak, his current armor, everything was effortlessly stripped away before he knew it soon as the tapes pulled away, leaving him standing in only his boxers and feeling exposed and utterly bewildered.
"Oh this is interesting, quite interesting indeed," a high-pitched, excitable voice chirped, drawing John's gaze to the source. It was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen: a massive, spider-like creature, its body seemingly woven from countless threads rather than solid chitin. Its mandibles, instead of dripping venom seemed to secrete shimmering, silken threads. It looked as if an abstract artist had been asked to sketch a spider based purely on description. "These have quite the connection and that cloak-armor is truly unique and should work quite well. Yes, yes I'll blend it into your order. Hmm, but my boy, that arm of yours… it looks quite bad but maybe, yes, yes an add-on, linking up to work with mental commands could work quite well as a work around, it wouldn't be perfect or the same but at least it would be somewhat usable once more without you exerting so much effort and force. Maybe a torn sleeve? And the actual armor that will cover it will be much thicker and far stronger, more for defense than offense and playing on the lack of feeling from it so it can be made to take a lot more punishment. Oh yes, you will be amazing, you my boy will bring my latest masterpieces into existence! I can practically feel the creativity flowing through my threads!" The creature's many eyes gleamed with an almost manic delight, its thread-like limbs dancing with anticipation.
"You will really be fun to work with." It reiterated, its voice a soft, silken whisper. Before John could even sound a protest, a dense, warm cocoon began to rapidly form around him, spun from the spider's glistening threads and within moments, the world turned dark as he was entirely encased.