They visited a couple of places, going somewhat chronologically. The day care John had been in, his elementary, middle, and then high school. None of them were particularly exciting places and the students inside them were staying inside because of the weather. Had he been on his own, he would have followed suit and retreated to whatever indoors were available to him to do something more fun. However, the enthusiasm his women had for his past kept him energized.

Halfway through the tour of his schools, he realized that he had never talked much about his pre-Gamer past to any of his lovers. Sure, he had let them know that he had been bullied, but he never really talked about why he had been bullied, who did it, how far it went, and why he had never done anything about it. All of that had been kept limited to little side mentions, jokes at his own expense, or entirely out of any discussion.

Sharing it with them was an interesting experience. Of course, the less empathetic among his harem, Metra and Nathalia most commonly, wondered why he hadn’t punched back. To them the idea of being helpless or giving up was alien. The attempt to explain the circumstances to them failed to really make them understand. They could believe that he had tried. John couldn’t make the convincing argument that he had tried his best in response. Burying himself in video games and porn had been a coping behaviour, not a solution. That he had indulged in those anyway was born out of the hopelessness that he could now dissolve.

While those two, and some others on occasion, criticized him, others offered support, yet others saw it this way or that way, depending on the specific unpleasant memory he recalled. What all of them had in common was that they were patiently hearing him out. Their comments annoyed him, made him laugh, deepened his apathy, or just did nothing, but all taken together, they helped him leave behind all of the little things that sometimes tugged at his mind. Even if talking and recalling many things was painful, the happiness his harem displayed at being confided in made it all worth it.

Not that it was all unpleasant to remember.

There were recollections of trick or treating around the neighbourhood, the old granny down the road giving him five dollars just because, an ice cream shop that had closed after fifty years with a little celebration and a free scoop for everyone, opening card packages and drawing a rare one required for his deck, being early in the queue for the WoW expansion, and other things that got exceedingly nerdy as he grew older. Sure, Frank and Vanessa had made his school life hell from puberty onwards, but it wasn’t as if his retreat had been an entirely ineffective way to live. He had always been nerdy and he had always been more of an introvert. Ending up with a computer as his best friend for a couple of years had been inevitable in some ways. How it had happened had been among the least healthy paths, but not all associated with it was bad.

After they were through all of the places of his childhood, they turned to more modern memories. First stop was the store that served as the Abyss Auction’s local outpost. Important about it was primarily that this had been where they bought Aclysia’s first outfit. Back then, she had usually worn the ‘uniform’ 2B wore in the videogame Aclysia’s inspiration came from, Nier;Automata.

“I’ll be damned,” the clerk greeted John upon entering. “I wondered if you would ever remember my little shop.”

“Hey Carl,” John greeted the man. Although this was a game shop, the Gamer only knew the owner because of his Abyssal connection. Doubtlessly by design, the store was located at the edge of town, keeping business low and the clerk able to concentrate more on his actual day job: being in charge of maintaining and sending delivery drones. Everything else was just a front.

“Do you actually remember my name or did you Observe it?” Carl asked, pointing above his half-bald head. The entire look he was going for spelled out ‘nerd past his prime’. He was middle-aged, thin enough that he could travel on a mild breeze, and mildly hunched over. The brown hoodie and the round glasses on his big nose further emphasized the nerdiness.

“Both,” John responded truthfully.

Sniffing, keeping up a front that John knew was fake, Carl continued in a nasal voice, “That the thin boy that once bought cosplays from me would become a world leader… and come into my shop with his entire harem. Bit of a surreal experience.”

Rave laughed, hugging her boyfriend’s side. “It’s been a pretty surreal journey.”

“I’m very real, please and thank you,” John responded as if he was offended. “How about I buy you some figurines to prove it?”

“If they’re cute, I’ll take them,” Rave hummed.

“Alright, the newest Necron starter set and-“

At the sound of the Warhammer related terminology, Rave let go of him and backed away hastily, hissing like a cat would at a snake. John only chuckled and looked around. “Was that an actual order?” Carl asked. “Or are you just here to sightsee?”

“I’m mostly here to sightsee,” John said and looked around. While the outside of the shop was run-down, the inside was, if somewhat cramped, neatly organized. There were no other customers, so he reached into his inventory and pulled out one of the more valuable tokens. He placed it on the polished glass top of the counter. As a member of the Abyss Auction, the coin was valuable to Carl even if the Golden Rose was not yet using it. “I would like to purchase some intel while I am here, though.”

“I see.” Carl’s nasally tone was replaced by a deep, gloomy voice, as he put his hood over his bald head. It was honestly cringy to John, to see a pretty weak member of the Abyss put this kind of show on, as if he was no longer hiding his forbidden powers. Had Carl been more than a fleeting acquaintance, John would have said something about it. As it stood, it was not worth the trouble. “What do you want to know, John Newman?”

“Tell me everything you know about the Golden Rose takeover and how it has affected the locals,” John instructed. Although the Gamer had already gathered some information about this via the Abyss Auction, he expected a local hotspot to have more details.

He wasn’t disappointed, but what he learned also fell into the scope of what he had guessed. With the Bloodfallen out of the picture, the Golden Rose had been able to refocus the majority of their intelligence gathering capabilities to local affairs. Combining this with the weakened state of the many guilds enjoying the Bloodfallen’s protection gave the Order the capability to rapidly gobble up the other small to medium organizations in Springfield.

Because they were, for all their faults, comparatively humane in their approach when it came to this expansion, they managed to consolidate their gains with little pushback. Only punishing the wicked and giving the rest a chance at redemption through proper worship of the Lady, which was just another name for Gaia, did entice enough to make for a wave of fresh recruits. More recruits meant more boots on the ground, more boots on the ground meant larger scope of operations, more operations meant more resources, more resources attracted more people, and the positive feedback loop continued to let the Order take over a chunk of the continent. In terms of empire building, this was a fairly standard chain of events.

As for all of those that did not wish to join the Order, life went on relatively normal. Yes, the Order was a stricter overlord than Fusion was, but despite what they had to say about John’s lifestyle, they weren’t quite tyrannical enough to shut down Abyssal establishments that offered sexual services. Which, apparently, Springfield had a wealth of. John wasn’t surprised. Springfield was a city with a disproportionately large red-light district.

What the Order did instead was enforce some clear districting and shunning. Regular and ‘saucy’ shops were separated strictly and both were put under strict observation by city guards, enforcing a variety of rules, some sensical, others not so much. As an example, the hygiene of brothels and wellbeing of the staff was taken considerably more seriously than before, which was a good change. That only two people could be in a room at a time was absurd and constricting. The intention seemed to be that, if prostitution had to exist, it would at least be as minimal and ‘moral’ as possible. On the side of regular shops, the Order did enforce quality standards, but they also demanded that each shop stuck to certain layouts. The logic doubtlessly had to do with ease of guarding.

Beyond the rules and districting, the Order imposed the typical two things of any sprawling government: bureaucracy and taxes. Particularly because they were a group of moralists, they wanted to keep close tabs on everything that their subjects were doing. This was a reflection of the Order’s stance on law enforcement. To them, it was preferable that the guilty were caught, even if that meant that innocent were inconvenienced or swept up unjustly. Fusion, under John, had the opposite view, which was why their demands on business reports were lax, especially by comparison.

Where the Order imposed most restrictions was in regards to the usage of magic. As demonstrated before, they had a pretty clear understanding of what magic should be permitted to do and were also of the opinion that some spells were strictly evil. For good reason, sometimes.

“How is the corruption situation?” John asked. Usually, when there was a state of affairs that was overloaded with annoying side-tasks, money greased the wheels so people could do what they wanted without being bothered.

“Practically non-existent,” Carl responded. “The Order of the Golden Rose has few that don’t believe in their mission and their seers usually find those fairly quickly. People that want to dodge the most stringent oversight just move to the countryside.”

“That makes sense.” John nodded. If the state could not be convinced to stay out of one’s affairs, going somewhere they had less power was the next logical step.

“Of course, people are also wary of the potential conflict between the Order and Wentworth,” Carl added.

John raised his head. Miss Wentworth, or Victoria Wentworth to name her properly, had been one of John’s teachers at Ashcroft. That someone who instructed mundane students on history was so impressive that she could exist at the heart of the Order’s territory and pose as a threat was mildly baffling. He had heard about her being a factor briefly from Rave before, but like usual his girlfriend had no detailed information. Wentworth was just someone her father had told her to stay away from.

“Right.” John nodded slowly, as if he had fully expected to hear about this. The true extent of Wentworth’s abilities was a mystery to him. There was no need to let Carl know about this gap, though. “How have her operations been developing?”

“Her operations mostly take place in the mundane world, so the Order couldn’t exert their influence on them.” Carl shrugged. “The Hawthornes…”

“Hawthornes?” John interrupted. He would have been able to hide his surprise, but he did not want to stitch together what he learned concerning that name. “As in, Vanessa Hawthorne?”

“I think that was the name of the daughter, yes?”

“How are they involved?”

Carl paused for a moment, looking over his glasses in a way that spelled out his confusion. Apparently, John should have been aware of this detail if he knew about Wentworth at all. “She uses the Hawthornes as her front to direct the mundane companies she owns. A degree of separation to make it easier to cover her age.”

“I see,” John just nodded. He had already revealed some ignorance on the topic, so he continued asking direct questions. “The Hawthorne’s themselves are mundane still, yes?”

“Absolutely normal.”

John was not sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. The cause of his bullying being a regular person was fundamentally a good thing, because it made her less effective. That she wasn’t a deeply rotten Abyssal that he could punish for her crimes against human decency was a wasted chance at catharsis. Even if Vanessa had been an Abyssal, the chances that she was stronger than him at this point were practically zero.

Wentworth was a different story though. “So why would the Order and Wentworth clash? Just meddling?” he wondered. If the Order had been aware of Wentworth and they were openly hostile, then her and Moira being in the same building five days a week would have been not just risky but downright foolish. Moira was not as strong a Warden a year ago as she was now. Losing their greatest asset at the start of her development so she could attend an educational facility that wasn’t even required by US law sounded stupid. Either there was more to it or the conflict was very much cold.

“Probably. Only she or them would know that,” Carl responded with a shrug.

“I see…” John scratched his chin. “Do you have her address, perchance?”

“I have her mundane seat of residence, but she doesn’t usually use that place.” He grabbed a piece of paper from next to the cash register and scribbled the name of the location down.

John took the slip and pocketed it. As someone with a number of homes whose primary purpose seemed to be to employ cleaning personnel, he wasn’t surprised that an Abyssal of import only used her residency as a front. “Alright, that’ll be all. Thank you.” He looked around. “It’s been nice seeing that some things remain the same.”

“If you ever want to play a game of Warhammer, come around,” Carl offered and John laughed, as he waved goodbye.

Back in the car, Rave said, “So are we-“ only to stop when John raised a finger. She raised an eyebrow when his expression turned dark.

Silently, John focused the magical perception of his contact lenses on a strand of magic that connected a sphere of green on the inside of his car window to the shop they just left. Observe revealed it to be a simple scrying spell, aimed at listening at a distance. “Stay where you are, I can find you either way,” the Gamer growled and opened the car door again.

That he had to walk halfway around the car was only part of the reason that he was the second person back in the shop. Aclysia, the instant she had realized what was going on, had stormed out and ran into the shop, almost tearing the already mistreated door out of its angles. When John entered, following the green string of magic, he found the weaponized maid holding Carl by his hoodie. The man was pale. He hadn’t been wise enough to follow John’s demand, just too afraid to think of anything to do in time.

“You dare spy on my John?!” Aclysia growled, her beautiful voice twisted into raw anger. With just one hand, she had the man dragged far enough over the counter that his feet were no longer touching the ground. Her right had found a letter opener. It was mainly a decorative piece, shaped like one would expect fantasy merchandise to look like and visibly dull. Pointy piece of metal was pointy piece of metal though.

“I- uhm, it is…” the shopkeeper stammered.

“Aclysia, I think he should have a seat,” John instructed and pointed towards a simple leather armchair in the book section of the small store. He glanced over his shoulder, to see that Beatrice and Metra were standing guard, with the other haremettes scattered around. They were in the mundane world, but some basic superhuman displays within these walls would be reasonably safe.

Too shocked to struggle, Carl let himself be dragged and thrown into the chair. That Aclysia rammed the letter opener into the armrest, right into the gap between two fingers, was not something John had wanted her to do. Neither was her grabbing his forearm and squeezing. “Under what arrogant delusion do you operate, that you think you have the right to even minorly inconvenience Master?”

“I… sold you all my cosplays a year ba-back, that must count for some-“

Aclysia’s expression was unchanged. She didn’t care for the weakness nor the ridiculousness of that excuse. Instead, she squeezed harder. Had John not intervened, she would have snapped the arm like a twig.

“Unhand him,” he told his maid.

“But Master, he is bothering you!” Aclysia exclaimed.

“Not enough to break his arm.”

“…Fine,” she let go and pulled the letter opener out of the armrest. Turning to John, her expression shifted instantly to care and concern. “Should I fetch you a seat, Master?”

“Get me that stool,” he said and was swiftly delivered the low wooden seat. He placed his butt down and looked at Carl. “Alright, so you aren’t that well informed about things outside of Springfield,” the Gamer started talking to the now intimidated, quivering man, “that’s fine. I must admit that it was pretty ambitious to try to spy on me. A fair warning though: I hate being spied on.” Although his tone stayed calm, the aura John exuded while he said those last words meant that he might as well have shouted. Carl turned as tiny as he could in the chair. “I know your boss. And I don’t mean the next in line above you, I mean the very top of your organization. Could you, very basically, tell me what made you think this was a good idea?”

Carl continued to quiver in his chair. It lessened as John suppressed his annoyance and remained somewhat when the aura was completely disabled. In his periphery, the Gamer could see Aclysia play with the letter opener. She clearly had a lot of ideas about what to do to get an answer. They continued not to get one.

“See, I don’t get it either,” John finally said and slapped his legs before getting up. “Ambition, boredom, voyeurism, whatever drove you to try that, I recommend you don’t remember you have it around me. We’ll forget this incident. Understood?” He stopped by the edge of the bookshelves, when he didn’t get an answer. “Understood?”

“Master asked you a question!” Aclysia underlined her impatience by throwing the letter opener. It penetrated the leather next to Carl’s neck.

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Good,” John headed for the door and they all got back into the car. There, he let out a long sigh. “Seriously, what the fuck?” he asked, drumming on the wheel. He looked all around the car for any signs that this may just have been an elaborate distraction to install some other piece of scrying magic in his car. “Scarlett, any-“

“Nobody installed microphones while you were in there,” the technomancer mumbled into the cigarette she had just placed in her mouth.

“You are NOT smoking in here!” Aclysia, still agitated, chided the redhead.

“Urgh, fine,” Scarlett stuffed the cigarette back into the box. Had it just been Aclysia, she wouldn’t have budged. It was the rest of the car, staring disapprovingly, that made her delay her nicotine refill.

“Nia, you sensing anything I am missing?” he asked.

“No,” the pariah answered after a couple seconds delay.

“Why didn’t ya tell us that was happening?” Rave wanted to know.

“Creepy ass blonde was probably thinking about how best to say it.”

“Yes,” Nia confirmed after two seconds. “I like that you know me so well.”

“Shut it, you pale, fair bitch!”

“Anyway,” Rave turned to her boyfriend to ask the question she had wanted to ask a minute ago. “We heading over to the address or what’s the plan now?”

“Well, I don’t feel like driving through town to get to a probably empty house,” John confessed and checked the time. It was well past school closing hours now. “How about we instead keep Ashcroft for tomorrow and meet her there?”

“Sounds good to me,” Rave agreed. “So, what do we do instead?”