Make way for the REAL Storm King.

Chapter 7
Time is ticking

“EEEEAAAAAARGH!!!”

“Bear with it, sire, we are almost done. We just have to cauterize the wound and it will be finished”

I watched as one of the medical apprentices tossed the bloody arrowhead they just pulled out of me into the trash. A nasty, barbed thing designed to inflict as gruesome a wound as possible. If it were within my power to resurrect Darius from the dead just to kill him a second time, I’d do it in a heartbeat. And I would take my sweet time.

”Modern anesthetic, I will make that my next top priority.” I thought, trying to block out the throbbing pain from the hole in my gut.

My mind drifted off a bit as I thought about the requirements for producing anesthetics. The easiest available solution with my current resources, aside from finding out if natural opioids existed here, would be Ether. Which meant setting up production of Ethanol and Sulfuric Acid. Might as well start making Methanol at the same time so we can lay the foundation for the production of simple plastics.

“Bite down on this, sire.” said my chief chirurgeon; drawing me back to the here and now as he shoved a rolled up piece of leather into my mouth. “Try to breathe normally.”

“Easy for you to say, you're not the one about to have a red hot piece of metal shoved into his gut.” I thought as I eyed said piece of steel with trepidation.

“Hold him fast.” the doctor instructed his apprentices, who firmly pressed me down into the table I was reclined on.

When the hot steel made contact I shrieked through my teeth and nearly passed out from the pain. It was so intense it made me nauseous. The sickly sweet stink of my own scorched flesh didn’t help matters. I fought back the rising bile because I did not fancy choking to death on my own vomit.

Every action hero you see in movies always cauterizes their own wounds with nought but a few grunts. Proof that Hollywood has no fucking clue just how much that shit hurts, or they would all be weeping like bitches. I sure as hell felt like doing so.

My vision swam in and out of focus while they put some kind of foul smelling poultice over the wound and then wrapped my abdomen in bandages.

I lay there for a while, struggling to return my breathing to something resembling normal.

“You will be relieved to know that nothing vital was hit, sire, and there were no poisons on the arrowhead.” said the chirurgeon, sounding pleased. “Now, I prescribe lots of rest and a good meal to help your body recover. And we must keep a close eye on the wound to make sure it doesn't turn septic. I do not expect it to, but one must always be cautious. If you experience any signs of fever you must call for me immediately.”

“Thank you, doctor…?”

“Tegu, sire. At your service. Apprentice Gila will see you to your chambers.”

Doctor Tegu was another lizard, with mostly black scales with white markings. His eyes were a shade of deep rose, bordering on red; and they had that wizened look you’d expect from an experienced physician. His apprentice on the other hand had mostly light beige scales with some pale yellow markings here and there, and eyes of aquamarine.

“Can you stand up, sire?” She asked whilst supporting my shoulder. At least I assumed it was a she, judging by the voice.

I still found it hard to tell the difference between the male and female lizards, since they lacked the sexual dimorphism seen in mammals. No breasts or other distinct features. All I had to go on, besides their voice, was overall size and bulk, which wasn’t any guarantee either way.

With some effort I managed to get to my feet. Just then the doors to the infirmary swung open to admit Strife.

“Ah, I see the rumors of your demise were premature, sire” He said, sounding almost disappointed. “Though I must say you do look rather less... formidable, than usual.”

“Rest assured, the king is expected to make a full recovery.” Doctor Tegu replied with a hard edge to his voice.

“That... is a relief.” Strife simpered. “Then, I shall return to my duties, such as they are, and inform the worried masses that the king is expected to make a full recovery. If you would… excuse me.”

With an exaggerated bow, Strife floated out of the infirmary; a look of conniving thought on his face.

“It may not be my place to say this, my lord…” Tegu began once Strife had left.

“Speak freely, doctor. Now and always.” I said, waving away his concerns.

“Then, I strongly advice you to keep your guard up around that one.” He said with clear distaste.

“Oh not to worry, doctor. I’m fully aware he’s the Starscream to my Megatron.”

“Beg pardon, sire?”

“An expression from my home, dear doctor. I’m fully aware he would betray me in a heartbeat if I show any weakness and he believes he can get away with it.”

“I suppose knowing is half the battle.” He replied, making me chuckle, which then sent me into a coughing fit.

After almost two weeks in bed I was going stir crazy. The constant ache from my healing wound kept me from getting a full night's sleep, so I felt tired and cranky most of my waking hours. The lone boring hours when I wasn’t drawing up more blueprints were also playing havoc with my mind. In the past few months I've had little time to really look back and contemplate my actions. But now, lying here in this bed, I was starting to feel lonely and homesick. I missed my crappy apartment, filled with all my nerdy stuff. It wasn’t much, but it was my home.

Home…

People always think living in a fictional world is awesome. I used to think that way too. But being bedridden with an aching arrow wound really drove home the ugly reality of it all. Being a villain should be easy. Just rule over your subjects with an iron first, kill those that stand in your way and gather yourself a harem full of sexy babes. Too bad the only babes around here look like lizards, fish or satyrs. Not exactly my idea of harem material.

Granted, Captain Celaeno looked at least a little cute. But more in an adorable pet cockatiel sort of way. Not in a “I wanna make out with her” kind of way. Besides, how do you kiss a girl with a beak instead of lips?

And then there’s the constant fear of rebellion and assassins. I kept a loaded crossbow by my bed even now, after all this time. The empire may be secure for the moment, but I'm not taking any chances.

I had just managed to roll slowly onto my other side, when the door to my bedroom creaked open, and Grubber hesitantly stuck his head inside.

“Is this a bad time, my lord?”

“It’s not as if I’m going anywhere anytime soon. What do you want, Grubber?” I said as I switched my brain back into overlord mode. My inner demons could haunt me later.

“I have the latest reports for you here.” he said, holding up a thick stack of papers.

“Read them to me would you?. I’m too tired to bother reading them myself.”

“As you wish, sire.” he said before he cleared his throat. “The fleet reports that the last of the pirates have been tracked down. As per your orders, those who did not partake in the battle have been granted a pardon and are now in your service, and the town on Black Skull island has been burned to the ground.”

He swallowed nervously before reading the next part. “Those who refused to surrender have been hanged, and their bodies put on display around the ruins of the town. Black skull island is now a mass graveyard.”

“And their ships?”

“Being decommissioned and stripped for salvageable parts as we speak, your worship.”

I let out a tired sigh. At least that was one headache dealt with. Only a thousand others left to worry about.

“Please don’t call me that, Grubber. I do not desire anyone’s worship. I’m not some lunatic pretending to be a god or holy figure. You are my loyal aide. I would have you speak plainly, without fear of reprisal.”

“The previous king always told me to shut up, before kicking me.”

“The previous king was clearly a vicious piece of shit, who wouldn’t know a loyal soul from a sandwich. An effective leader should be three things. To his subjects he should be a stern but just ruler. To his allies he should be an immovable rock they can lean on. And to his enemies he should be an unholy terror whose name they fear to speak.”

“Is that kind of leader you will be, sire?”

“It’s what I will aspire to be, yes.”

I know what you are thinking. That doesn't sound very villainous, which is true; but it is good for morale. Being feared by your people is all well and good, but it doesn’t make for the most loyal subjects. If you have their respect however they are far less likely to turn on you. I’ve said it before, but it's worth repeating.

“Now, what's the status of our industry?” I asked.

“Uhm...” he leafed through the stack of reports briefly before pulling out the right paper. “It’s going well, sire. Copies of your designs have been sent to every city and town in the empire. Fifteen new steam engines have been completed thus far, with another twentyseven on the way. Soon every workshop and forge in the empire will have automated tools. And our mining production is back up to a hundred percent.”

“And project Bread Basket?”

“The first greenhouse will finish construction in a few days. We’ve placed a rush order for several hundred glowstones. With the pirate problem solved, there shouldn’t be any problems getting them here in a timely fashion.”

Glowstones are apparently a type of magic imbued crystal, imported from a land far to the north. Across the ocean and past the great desert. They produce warmth and light on the same spectrum as natural sunlight. They are ideal for greenhouses, but hideously expensive. I didn’t have any alternatives though. I’ve only just begun introducing the very basics of electricity. We simply do not have the facilities, skill or materials to produce light bulbs, and a myriad of other things at this time.

“Is that everything then?”

“For the moment, my lord.”

“Alright then, take these to the overseer of industry.” I said as I handed him a stack of papers detailing mass production methods for Ethanol, Sulfuric Acid, Methanol and a myriad of other useful industrial chemicals.

As Grubber left the room I carefully rolled onto my other side and tried to get comfortable. I did not succeed.

The one thing I hated about living in the stormlands was the weather. Nine days out of ten it seemed to be cloudy, with the ever present threat of rain. The chill in the air made my injury ache. The wound was now fully closed and mostly healed, but the scar was still fresh and tender. Like an angry reminder not to do something that stupid again. Six weeks, that's how long I’d been incapacitated. Three of which I'd spent in bed, and the other three I'd been slowly getting back to a somewhat normal routine.

Today was the first time I set foot outside the castle to perform an inspection of the newly completed hydroponic greenhouse. It had been up and running at full production for two weeks now, after a delay caused by errors with the pumping system. Since our electricity production is not up and running yet I had opted for a series of simple mechanical pumps, hooked up to a dedicated steam engine. The excess heat from the steam engine also helped to heat up the greenhouse.

As per my usual arrangement, Wedge and Biggs were following just a little ways behind me as we made our way through the town. Their presence ensured that the populace maintained a respectful distance. Not to mention their presence felt soothingly reassuring.

The greenhouse itself was an impressive sight. Three Hundred-thirty feet long, a hundred-sixtyfour feet wide and thirteen feet high. Entirely made of steel and glass. Inside were layers upon layers of racks and gutters in dozens upon dozens of rows. All connected through virtual miles of piping and tubes through which the nutrient enriched water flowed.

“My king, so good to see you out and about. I hope your recovery has gone well?” greeted the manager. He was a pot bellied, yet otherwise scrawny looking storm beast. His wiry arms looked almost comical compared to his bulging gut. He almost reminded me of an Orangutan.

“As well as can be expected.” I replied politely. “And how do things fare here? Any more problems?”

“No problems my king. Everything is working as designed. Of course we are constantly monitoring just in case there are any more unforeseen bugs to work out.”

“Well then, give me the tour.” I said.

“Of course sire, follow me.” he bowed, then turned on his heel.

“As per your suggestion, the entire place was roughly divided into three sections. One for growing tomatoes, another for lettuce and the final section for growing cucumbers. The cucumbers proved a bit more challenging than the others, but the first crops are growing nicely.”

I nodded and let my gaze drift over the racks. These three crops were specifically chosen because they are quite easy to grow in large numbers with hydroculture. And because they spoil quickly once harvested, they are expensive to import. The average tomato will last for roughly ten days at room temperature once harvested, and it takes a full week for our current airships to fly to the countries we trade with across the great sea.

“In addition to the three main sections, one other smaller section of the greenhouse has been set apart at doctor Tegu’s insistence to attempt and grow medicinal herbs.” He continued.

It was an arrangement I heartily approved of, since medical supplies are always needed, not to mention insanely expensive when bought in bulk.

I was feeling pleased as punch with the current progress. One to two months from now we should have the first tomato harvest. The first batch of lettuce should be ready in six to eight weeks, and the cucumber in four to six weeks. Meanwhile more greenhouses were being built all across the island. Most for hydroculture, but also some for more traditional farming. Barring any unforeseen problems, our food production should be entirely self-sufficient within a year.

A year… I can’t wait that long.

Time is my worst enemy. But what can I do? The entire island is working overtime trying to realize all my projects, and yes it's going really well, but even with everyone working at maximum capacity it’s simply not enough. I need more.

More workers, more raw materials, food, everything. I could feel a headache coming on.

How the hell am I supposed to fight in an interdimensional war for the multiverse when this world seems to be stuck in early medieval levels of technology? Sure there are some modern-ish exceptions like our airships, but they function through a mixture of science and magic. The majority of everyday life is still stuck in a pre-industrial stage. I need this world to surpass twentieth century tech levels if I’m going to even stand a sliver of a chance. But how in the ass am I going to get it all done before I die of old age?

If it's going to take a year just to make this tiny island self-sufficient, how long is it going to take to bring the rest of the planet under my control? It took Julius Caesar nearly a decade, and the loss of over a million lives, to finish the Gallic and civil wars to secure his empire. And that’s small scale, compared to my ambitions. I’ll be an old man by the time the Shopkeeper comes calling. Unless I could somehow magically stop aging.

My thoughts came to a screeching halt. I swear I heard a record scratch somewhere in the background.

I, am, an idiot!

“Wedge, Biggs, we’re leaving.” I said abruptly, turning on my heel.

“My king? Wha-what's the matter? Did I displease you somehow?” the manager stammered.

“Not at all, I just have urgent business elsewhere. Keep up the good work.”

Without sparing him another glance we left the greenhouse and returned to the castle. There was work to be done.

Nothing! I could find absolutely nothing in any of the tomes in my possession that would help me gain longevity, or outright immortality.

Why not simply check the compendium you say? As a matter of fact that was the first thing I tried. But the only thing that I got back from that was a message in glowing red letters that said “You do not meet the requirements to access that information at this time.”

What the actual fuck? Needless to say, that threw me for a loop. It’s in there. I just can’t access it for some unfathomable reason. What the hell was that Shopkeeper trying to pull on me now?

So with that line of inquiry cut off, I decided to shift my attention to local knowledge. But here too I came up short. If the knowledge is out there it's likely being hoarded by an elite few. I could think of a few methods from popular fiction, but there was no way to know if they would work. Or how to implement them.

Besides, some methods are not worth the trouble. Like becoming a lich for example. Too many downsides. And I sure as fuck ain’t gonna pull a Voldemort.

Three days of research on magic wasted. Time to do something more productive.

I made my way to my mad science lair, as I liked to call the laboratory slash engineering workshop wing of my castle. It had been fully refurbished with the latest iteration of power tools and glassware while I was bedridden. The smell of freshly oiled machinery greeted me as I stepped through the door.

“Alright, time to get my Tony Stark on.”