I felt the judgmental gazes of my officers, but I donned my thick skin and brass neck and paid them no mind. “Mortals!! My Crew And I Simply Wish To Tour And Explore And Your Small Country Was Simply The Closest To Our Arrival Point! But Tell Me What Is The Need For All These Weapons?! And What Difference Do You Think They Would Make?!” As I finished, I requested the Twin-Knots to blast their surroundings with her Conquerors' will, a minuscule dose so they could sense her power as it was currently concealed. “Careful not to hit them.”

  But I soon remembered that my ‘Powerful Persona’ was not 100% baseless. The big girl did as I said and released her will, and immediately a pulse blasted through the open areas of seas left between us and the encirclement. That pulse created 70 ft waves that forced the fleet to scatter. The pulse then went skyward, splitting the clouds and pulling them up before spinning and creating a storm. But before I could say anything, she sent another pulse, which completely erased the storm.

  “Was that a reminder to them or me?” I asked, and in response, the Twin-Knot sent giggles back through our connection, sounding like an innocent girl. “Definitely for me then.” Turning my attention back to the fleet that was still trying to gather itself once more, I spoke again. “Oh! Apologies Mortals! I Have Not Let Loose For A While! I Suppose Some Power Was Pent Up! HAHA!” I paused and wordlessly gave them a few minutes to gather.

  I looked around and felt I saved some face as I was not the only one to be surprised. We all had participated in duels this past few weeks, and we knew the power of the Quin-Force and its pathways, but we had never expected that the Twin-Knots was truly this strong. “Cap’n, it looks like we really are just frauds. The true heaven child was this girl.” My third officer said from the side. I was inclined to agree… “Wait a minute, who the hell is a fraud?!”

  I was cut off by the voice from before booming out. “The Apologies Are Ours! Great Ones! We Mean No Offence, But We Couldn’t Possibly Send A Small Delegation To Meet Beings Such As Yourselves!”. I, being the ever-benevolent old man I ought to be, replied swiftly. “Of course, of course, The Past Is The Past, Mortals! HAHA! Though I Do Suppose This Means We Have ‘Permission’,” I paused, making the word seem sarcastic, “To Enter Your Lands!” There was no reply, just a long pause before the ships parted ways.

  Without needing to ask, the big girl began moving towards the landmass. Soon, the lights and skyline of what seemed to be an old medieval/Renaissance city showed itself. The fleet escorted us towards the nearest port, and we arrived in near minutes. The port was an artificial peninsula with spots that were large enough for ships, even of our size, to dock. We lowered the 70x25 ft arrival ramp, and a diplomatic delegation was already at the port waiting for us. I sent a group of armed sailors to meet them at the ramp, where they were then escorted to the main dining restaurant on the ship, which was a multi-deck restaurant intended to feed over 3,000 hungry individuals at the same time. There I was seated at a long table with all 7 department heads and 3 bridge officers sitting on one side, and on the other were 11 seats and 5 round tables in case the delegation had more than that. They indeed did.

  All 11 seats were filled, and the four tables behind them were empty. But it was crowded as each minister had 3 guards, and the king had 5, making for 35 guards: mages and knights. “Before we begin, I’d like for everyone to be seated”. The guards, loyal through and through, were about to refuse when the big girl took personal offense to that refusal. A pressure fell on the guards specifically; everyone felt it, but it only targeted them. I raised my hand, and the pressure disappeared, and the guards found their seats near their liege. “Excellent, now begin”.

  13 carts were brought in, 2 for each round table and 3 for the long table. Each person was given 2 plates, 2 bottles, and 1 bowl. In the plates and bowls were magical dishes, and in the bottles, elixirs. They seemed decently impressed with this, and of course, they would. These were made by True Quin-Force Alchemist and Chefs. Kingdoms would kill for things like these. Beginning the conversation, I said, “Your humans, wonderful. I was hoping to avoid any interspecies politics for my first tour”. Thankfully, that seemed to release some of the tension they were keeping. “Well, this is a feast, correct? No need to stand on ceremony,” I said as my officers began to eat; all those highlife dinners I had blackmailed them into doing were paying off.

  Their table manners seemed to seem somehow regal and dignified, even though these bloody bastards were anything but that. “I forgot I'm not the only con artist on this boat.” I sneered internally, “Watch and learn, you greenhorns are 1,000 years too young to match me!”. After a minute of eating, I realized they were not going to initiate a discussion, most likely because they saw us as the superior party. Exactly what I was hoping for. I placed down my knife and fork, and then took my napkin from my lap and wiped my mouth. This action was mirrored by the crew, and by now, the effects of the food should have kicked in.

  Over 30 positive buffs were activated, and it seemed like they grew younger. “Just an effect of less tension, no rejuvenation effects were added”. I finished, cleaned my mouth, and spoke aloud. “So, instructions are in order, mortals, we are the leaders of the {Living Ship [Juggernaut Who Dreadsnought]}. We are, simply put, wonders, wonders that don’t aim for land, power, or even wealth, but freedom. But if we are to gain the absolute freedom to continue to wonder, we will indeed need said land, power, and wealth.” I paused, which was an invitation to them to return the gesture. But from where they were standing, even an invitation was an order.

  “I am King Cullahan Aurora, ruler of the kingdom, Magnus Aurora. These are the Administrative ministers of the kingdom, and we simply want a continued, prosperous, existence for our kingdom and its citizens. And as such, we have no scruples in underhanded, cruel, or inhumane means of conduct towards non-citizens and foreign civilians”. We had laid out what our goals in general are, and they, their bottom lines. Now the negotiations began.

  “Ahh, so you see, Mortal Aurora, we are on a voyage that will hopefully have no ending, but every voyage has a beginning port”. (Give us your country). “Oh, if that is so, Great ones, we wish you the best of luck. As for being a port, we do not know what that entails”. (Cool, why would we help you?) “Surely you would benefit from being a part of our legend”. (We could squad wipe your country). “Yes, of course, Great One, I understand how glorious that would be. But I don’t believe we are quite equipped with the infrastructure for such a spotlight”. (Stop being stingy, give us something).

  Negotiations continued like that for 50 minutes, his ministers and my Officers having enough time to sample through new experimental dishes and desserts our Galley cooked up. He finally conceded and agreed to the Allied negotiations for what we could and would do in his country. Lucky for me, I had a system to help me. “Hey Enkidu, are there any technologically advanced civilizations?” He replied in his usual annoying voice. “Host, did your mother ever tell you ‘you're special’? Of course, there are”.

  “We can bring you the advanced technology of the upper worlds, as well as training manuals, and as you can taste the Arts of Ether. But if you're not satisfied, we’ll simply have to go elsewhere”. (Line and…). I looked at the expressions of everyone from the guards to the ministers, changing with greed and disbelief (sinker). “But of course we’d accept such generous offers from the Great Ones. In fact, I would like a discussion on how these would be implemented immediately”. (A deals a deal!).

  I invited my Head of the Computer Specialized Department and my Chief Engineering Officers, El-Cid Valette and Daedalus Shamil. To my left and right as we began the next round of negotiations. After a fast 10 minutes of back and fourth, We agreed that we would redevelop their civilian, commercial, industrial and military infrastructure and in exchange we would gain their full support, basically turning the whole country into our errand boys, we would be immune to all laws except for a few capital offences, they would give us a 40 km circle of mountains and forest lands in which we would have full power. They would additionally make us a 12 square km artificial peninsula for all our docking and shipping needs, and a 1 km villa would be built for us in their capital, and finally, after 6 months, we would make them expand their kingdom into the rest of the continent, through any means necessary. That was Article 1: The Conduct of Structures.

  For Article 2: Conduct Of Man. Leading this discussion was the Head of the Medical Department and the Head of the Housekeeping Department (I.e Combat Classes). Hippocratia Watson and Napoleon Subutai. In exchange for teaching the general populace and the military whatever Pathways of the Quin-Force they were attuned to, we would have two seats when it came to Voting on policies that were equal to a tenth of their government. We would also be privy to all classified information they managed to get their hands on, while we could give them whatever information we felt like giving. We would also have an official say in the internal functions of each ministry. This round took longer as they were distrusting of us outsiders, but after a quick reminder from the frankly tyrannical and unreasonable Twin-Knots. They remembered that we were asking when we could simply take.

  After 20 minutes of negotiating Article 2, it was time for the negotiations of the finale, Article 3. Taking center stage on this was Antonie Boyle and Maradak Bel Eirene. This was a longer negotiation as ‘Bel n’ Boyle,’ as the squids called them, viciously ripped through these poor fuckers, and by the end my jaw almost dropped at the scam these whitches pulled off. In exchange for all magical dishes and potions we would make, they had to pay for the resources, labour, and transportation, a fee for taking up the time of the chef when they could be doing somthing else. A fee for taking the chef away from their duties aboard, a fee for the expertise of the chef, and ect. For raw resources in their territory, we would only pay 10% market value, and we would also be priority customers. But in exchange, they would also only have to pay 10% market value and would also be on our priority consumers list.

  The only difference was that our priority list could have multiple customers vying for spot one; their list would have us at number 1, undisputed. In exchange for this clause, they were able to add whoever they wanted to our priority list, and all civilians would be added to our secondary priority list, which was privy to 70% of the market cost. But to “avoid abuse of this,” as the girls had stated, we would have an auction system for anything of ‘appropriate’ value, which would go to avoid insane losses. The auction itself would be public to anyone across the realms, but the kingdom itself would be on the primary priority list, meaning if it won the auction, it would only have to pay 80% of what it won for, while civilians would be paying 98%. And after that, the final Article was finally closed. Article 3: Conduct of Resources.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  P.O.V: King Cullahan Aurora.

  One by one, they descend. There are 111 of them. I count twice to be sure.

  They come down the steel ramp of a single ship that should not be able to float—too angular, too seamless, its hull drinking in light instead of reflecting it. The harbor is silent. No gulls. No waves against stone. Even the water seems to hold itself still, as if listening.

  They call themselves Wonders.

  Not gods. Not conquerors. Not ambassadors—though they serve that role well enough. They are men and women and shapes in between, each altered in some subtle or unmistakable way by Quin-Force so powerful that the old distinctions between Pathways no longer matter.

  Some walk as though their feet never quite touch the stone. Some bear eyes of glass that rotate and refocus independently. One’s shadow lags a half-second behind their movements, as if reality hesitates to follow. Another hums softly, a constant low vibration like a distant engine idling. They are powerful. They are restrained. That is what frightens me most. We meet in the Hall of Accounts.

  I insisted on it. If they were to reshape our future, they would do so surrounded by ledgers, not banners. By numbers, not myth.

  The Wonders take in the shelves of records with open curiosity. One runs his fingers along a century-old spine and murmurs something approving. Another tilts her head, listening to the building itself, as if stone can speak if asked politely enough.

  Introductions are brief. They represent power with potential greater than the strongest empires of the world—those whose names are spoken with awe, fear, or exhaustion depending on distance. They are here, they say, because Magnus Aurora is interesting.

  “You are weak,” one of them tells me without malice. “But you are coherent.” I accept that as a compliment. Negotiations begin. They offer much.

  Advanced healing arrays capable of curing a thousand patients simultaneously without draining a single mage. Agricultural engines that triple yield without touching soil chemistry. Elixirs that would break Curses cast by entire covens of witches and warlocks. Weapons that would shatter the world order. River stabilizers that end flooding forever. Energy grids drawn directly from the deep laws of the world—clean, endless, obedient.

  Every problem we have learned to manage carefully; we propose to erase. In exchange, we give them land: a wide stretch of the western peninsula, mountain access, and forest corridors. Political benefits as well—permanent advisory seats in our councils, veto authority over certain state decisions, and legal immunity to all but capital crimes.

  Trade privileges that would place Magnus Aurora firmly within their sphere. They say it's not a conquest. Not annexation. But allocation. They do not threaten us. They do not need to. I look down the table. The merchant nobles can barely contain themselves. They see wealth without a ceiling, safety without cost. The communes sit rigid, hands clenched, already tallying dependency in their minds. The Mage Council looks unwell—like physicians watching a miracle drug administered without testing.

  I ask for a recess. Two hours. The Wonders agree instantly. They do not seem troubled by the number. Those two hours are the longest of my reign. The arguments begin before the doors are fully closed.

  The merchants speak first. This is salvation, they insist. A leap generations ahead. To refuse would be suicide; to accept would make us untouchable. Why cling to pride when the world is offering protection?

  The communes respond with equal force. This is dependency disguised as generosity. Once our food, energy, healing, and rivers rely on foreign systems we cannot reproduce alone, autonomy becomes a story we tell ourselves for comfort.

  The Mage Council says little. When pressed, their leader finally speaks, voice quiet and exhausted, “If we accept this, we will never matter again. If we refuse… we might not survive.” I listen. I ask questions.

  How many people would be displaced by the land grant? How quickly could our workers be trained to maintain the technology? What safeguards exist against unilateral withdrawal of support? What happens if the Wonders decide we are no longer interesting?

  Numbers. Always numbers. When the two hours end, there is no consensus—only clarity. I return to the Hall of Accounts alone. The Wonders rise as one. I do not take the throne. I step to the long table instead, placing my palms on its scarred surface, feeling the grooves worn by centuries of anxious fingers.

  “You have asked for land,” I say. “You will have it—but not ownership. A ninety-nine-year stewardship lease, renewable only by mutual consent. The land remains Magnus Auroran soil.”

  A flicker passes through them. Surprise. Then interest. “You will have advisory seats,” I continue, “but no veto. You may speak. You may warn. You may persuade. Final authority remains with the crown and councils.”

  A murmur ripples through their ranks. “You will prop up our kingdom,” I say, deliberately using their words, “but you will not replace it. All technology introduced must be transferable. All systems must be learnable. Our people will be trained—not sidelined.”

  Silence. Then the one whose shadow lags steps forward. “You bargain like an equal,” they say. “You are not one.” I incline my head. “No. But I govern people who must live with the consequences after you are gone.”

  They confer—two of them speaking in a language that folds uncomfortably around the ear, as if grammar itself bends. A third watches me closely, recalibrating something unseen. Then the air changes. Pressure washes over the city. Not pain—weight. Like the sky leaning closer. Their leader steps forward, past the line we had unconsciously drawn.

  “What we asked for was minuscule,” they say calmly. “What we offered was vast. Should we take it by force now?” The threat is real. The Wonders could dismantle Magnus Aurora in less than an hour. No siege. No war. Just systems failing all at once.

  I breathe. Then I do something none of them expect. I smile.

  “You misunderstand,” I say softly. “We are not valuable because of what we have. You said it yourself—we are coherent.” They pause. “You could take this kingdom,” I continued. “But you would gain nothing unique. Another dependency. Another holding. Another place that collapses the moment you leave.”

  I straighten. “But if you stay—truly stay—you gain something else.” Their leader grins and tilts his head. “Explain.”

  “You are Wonders,” I say. “Singular. Powerful. Untethered. You need a place that can hold you without worshipping you. A system that absorbs power without breaking.” I gesture to the ledgers.

  “Make Magnus Aurora your only base of operations. Anchor your logistics, your research, your diplomacy here. Not above us. With us.” Murmurs ripple again—this time sharper. “You would bind us,” one says. “No,” I reply. “We would bind each other.”I lay it out then. Fully. Cleanly.

  They may establish their facilities here, but all governance remains local. They would gain all they had bargained for on the ship, but they would have to put all their bets on Magnus. They may operate freely—but transparently. They gain stability, and they could find in no other empire, legitimacy as the sages that had uplifted the Kingdom, and a stomping ground that had already survived the political world of the planet.

  We gain protection, knowledge, and time—without surrendering ourselves. “If you are what you claim,” I finish, “you do not need to fear oversight. And if you are not… then we should fear you.” Silence stretches. Finally, the leader speaks. “Magnus Aurora will be our sole operational anchor,” they say slowly. “On a trial basis.” The pressure lifts. The city breathes again. The agreement is signed at dawn. Not theirs.

  Ours.

  Tomorrow, I will wake before the bells. But now, when light reaches the peninsula first, it will not be alone. And for the first time, that may be enough.

  Later that Night, Atlaster Alexander Newgate

  “Squids Once!” I yelled from the top of a table with a bottle of ale in my hand. “Squids Forever!" That was the chorus that returned to me. 3rd Officer Apollus slung over my shoulder and shouted. “We ain't just scam likely, We are scam for Sure!” Another chorus of cheers came back as the crew celebrated. Today, we had technically conned a kingdom. Could we have really crushed them? Yes. Could we actually give them what we promised? Yes, but the important part was that there were no other kingdoms better suited for us, and they were our only option, but they didn’t realize that.

  And the best part, we did it while acting like ancient mystics! We definitely had scammed them. But they also passed all our tests. From what we could see, this kingdom had the most stable, satisfied, and patriotic population on the planet. Not only that, but their ruler had all the makings of a Gilgamesh or Alexander the Great type of character. Stable head and was willing to fight it out till the very end. Not only would annexing their country lose all these properties, but it would also be a waste of time.

  But instead, we were able to secure a position that would make the people of the Kingdom love us and have the same national pride for us as they had for the home itself, as we were now seen as inside supporters inseparable from the prosperity of the kingdom. That being said, we didn't actually rip them off, and they would probably benefit more from this than us, but just weeks ago, we were just regular, retired Tier 0 special operators. Actually, that wasn't very normal.

  And so we partied the night away, making jokes, doing dumb stunts, and even reminiscing. All in the harbour of the new place we would call home. We knew that when we woke tomorrow, many things would require our attention, but tonight we will sleep when we want with no care for the realms.

  Hey, guys, I realized I was spelling the First Officer's name with a c instead of a k. It's supposed to be Maraduk to draw a line with her inspiration. But I've been writing Maraduc. So her name will be fixed from now on.

  Goodnight