The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 195: Blake of the White Tower

Blake and Ilya ran through the newly formed 'White Tower' hand in hand.

Most rooms were already filled with basic furniture—the simple orc sleeping furs, various chairs and tables and stools. They had all kinds of useful, everyday items, from bowls to cutlery, bronze trays to...shitting buckets. The orcs didn't exactly have modern plumbing, which was especially odd considering the human settlements did.

"I'm going to have to build a toilet," Blake muttered as he inspected.

"What's that?" Ilya met his eyes, and her face was so radiant with joy he temporarily forgot what he was complaining about.

"Nevermind, my love. Shall we try and find the hall?"

Ilya nodded enthusiastically, and they ran up the central spiral looking for some sign of a larger space. It didn't take long.

About a third of the way up the tower, the layout obviously changed to reveal a more open, public space. Blake had to send his constructs to push open the huge doors leading in, and Ilya gasped as the hall was exposed.

A huge banner covered the far wall—the amber eye of Ilya’s tribal lineage, surrounded by purple lines that might have been an orc interpretation of magic. Smaller on the wall, with obvious space for more, was the crest of Ilya's family, the Vori.

Blake blinked as he stared, realizing that the orc lord had seemed to almost randomly name Ilya's new clan 'Ambereye'. How could a random orc joke have become the actual theme of the tower? He asked Ilya as much.

"Oh, it wasn't random," she said with a chuckle. "All oracles and shamans have amber eyes, and are sometimes called that. It's a sign of being magic-touched. It was a very informed guess."

Blake nodded, still feeling a little like the orcs were affected by the system in a way humans were not—like they were reacting to possibilities they knew in their bones instead of to completely new information.

It was, in other words, in a possibly very real way, predicted by the system that all this might happen. Exactly. Blake clenched a fist. If there was one thing he truly hated, it was being predictable.

"I'll have to try harder," he thought, and not for the first time, playing with his Mental Partition to try and bounce his thoughts back and forth, creating a kind of barrier even to himself until it was relevant.

But how to shield your mind from a god-like overlord that had given you every tool you used in its experiment? A being that could shape the fabric of existence at will?

Blake did his best not to feel the idea hopeless. There was always a way. And of course he didn't have to beat the system—at least not anytime soon. He just had to beat its game, and give himself leverage. To become, in the words of every bureaucrat and middle manager since the dawn of time, irreplaceable.

"Blake?"

Ilya was apparently staring at him. She had sat on a plain throne at the end of the hall, and stretched out her hand.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I was far away." He stepped forward and took it, about to create his own chair beside her to sit in before realizing it might have been a terrible cultural mistake.

He was not her 'husband', or whatever orcs called them. He was not an orc, nor anything official at all, and certainly not a lord of the tower. She seemed to recognize the moment—the difficulty, perhaps, of identifying exactly what their relationship was, officially and unofficially.

Ilya's face lost all expression.

"Wizard Blake," she said, her tone equally serious, and slightly emotional. "As my first official act as Lady of the White Tower, I offer you permanent residence on a floor of your choosing. I also offer you a position in my court, as First Wizard. You will receive an income, servants, and act as my advisor in matters of rulership. Do you accept?"

Blake kept the frown from his face. It should have occurred to him, he supposed, that Ilya couldn't just leave him as 'random human guy in my tower'. She had devised a way to keep him close, giving him official title and therefore honor, while also presumably preserving her own. The problem was—well, Blake's ego. He was not destined to play out the game as 'First Wizard' to some orc tower.

On the other hand, he was not currently the patron of Nassau. And in many, many ways, these orcs were more powerful than Nassau. They certainly had more resources.

He didn't yet know how, but he also wanted somehow to combine the orcs and humans to the benefit of both. And he couldn't very well do that without being himself part of both.

"I accept," he said, smiling a little.

Ilya practically sagged with relief. She dropped the serious expression and stood, throwing her arms around Blake and squeezing with her head against his chest.

"So you'll stay?" she whispered, and he gave her back a pat.

"I'll stay," he confirmed. "I don't know how long, exactly, but for the foreseeable future. And if I leave, I'll come back."

Ilya shook a little with what might have been a sob. "Good," she said, defeating it quickly. "Because I have no idea what I'm doing. I have all these contracts and Tower decisions and bleeping noises in my head. And I don't have a clue what to do about any of it. Also I…have no guards, as far as I can tell. I'm not even sure what's to stop some ambitious lord from bringing his warriors here and taking the tower."

"Nothing." Blake shrugged. "Except the murderous, human champion who just finished executing the orc that terrified them all into submission. That ought to buy us a little time."

Ilya just kept on hugging his chest like a life raft.

* * *

Blake and Ilya explored more of the tower after that, though it was so large they soon realized it would take a few days. After a brief inspection of the top level, they came back down with much more practical and ordinary thoughts, like food, and in Blake's case, possibly sex.

"It's going to take a long time to properly break in all those rooms," he said, wiggling his brow at Ilya as he slid a hand down her back.

"What do you mean?" she said. "It's all brand new. You and your big oaf moving statues aren't to break anything in my tower, wizard! Well, except your room, of course."

Blake sighed and was about to explain that he meant to try and screw her in every tower room, when the tower flared a kind of audible warning as the outer doors sprung open.

Blake spun in alarm, but Ilya seemed entirely at ease as a small cluster of orcs came walking through. There was a mix of male and female, workers and something like a merchant or slightly upper class.

They all walked in with varying levels of terror as if propelled forward. Then they found Ilya and Blake and either dropped to their knees or bowed or stood there looking utterly awkward. A few declared their undying loyalty.

"We've broken through from the warrens, yer ladyship," said an orc about the size of 'Smith', with skin that looked like sandpaper. "We'll dig it all out nice and proper," he added. "But for now a few can come through."

"Thank you, Digger," Ilya said as if this all made perfect sense. "Tell your kin they will eat from the tower supplies for two days if they have it dug completely by tomorrow."

The big orc's eyes widened. Then he scratched his ass slightly as he bowed, turned and walked for the tunnel.

"The rest of you, welcome," Ilya called, taking a small but noticeable step away from Blake. "The tower floors are marked with symbols. Go to yours and claim rooms. For now the choice is yours."

In ones and twos they eventually all went on their way, until Blake and Ilya were alone again. She seemed to understand the strangeness of the moment, and stepped closer as she met Blake's eyes.

"My people...they won't understand...I have to be careful. At least for now. It's not that I..."

"I understand completely," Blake said, because he did.

Bringing Ilya back to Nassau wouldn't be a picnic, either. Hell, just telling them he meant to be friends with the orcs who had otherwise been hunting them down like dogs might not be awesome. And God only knew how Annie would take it...

"We'll be discreet," he added, making sure Ilya knew he had no intention of cutting off their affair.

"That's acceptable?" she said, obviously hopeful. "It doesn't...dishonor you? Or insult you?"

"Not in the slightest," Blake assured.

Then he thought about secretly banging the lady of the tower after a day of orc snobbery, and had to fight the erection.

"I assume you'll be staying at the very top of the tower? Away from everyone else?"

"I will," she said, biting her lip and clearly understanding his meaning. Blake came closer and ran a finger down her cheek, then winced when he thought of how far that actually was from the ground level. "I'm going to need a room near the top. And probably have to build an elevator."

She gave him an utterly confused expression he was beginning to know too well, but he waved it away.

"We'll figure it out." He also noticed her expression was more or less matching his own, and opened his mouth to suggest they go and break in the lady's room right now when another group of orcs came through the gate.

"Lady Vori." The leader nodded more than bowed, and wore dramatically decorative armor and carried a small, polished sword. "You have been invited to an urgent meeting of the tower lords. As soon as possible."

Ilya nodded and thanked him, then he left with the rest. She turned to Blake and her breathing was quick and shallow and he doubted it was from lust.

"I'll come with you," he said, patting her hand. "You're going to do fine."

She glanced around, then basically smashed her lips to his and made a little moaning sound. He had a feeling it was going to be a very, very long meeting.