“Greetings, John Newman a.k.a. the Gamer a.k.a. Jeehan a.k.a. the one who decided to keep mating with Nathalia a.k.a. the one who stayed in contact with the Horned Rat a.k.a. the one who is now effectively the guardian of the end of humanity a.k.a. a friend of mine,” the raptor masked fellow was speaking with his metallic voice; “Romulus, first and only emperor of blabla, sent me, after a very short, succinct and stressful interrogation. I am Magoi Magus a.k.a. High Fateweaver 5 a.k.a. Anathema.”

“Well, I congratulate you on getting a promotion,” John said; he remembered Magoi having being the seventh High Fateweaver before. His sudden appearance inside the room, which was solely populated by him, Rave and his familiars, was rather surprising. Especially since the Gamer literally had just gotten done with showering after a quickie with his girlfriend and was still getting dressed.

It was rather weird that the man would seek out him and him alone, in the late stages of their current work. They had slept and already gone through most of the day, cleaning up the rest of Styria while keeping the pressure on the enemy base. All while waiting for Magoi himself to arrive.

The Fateweaver seemed to be completely unbothered by seeing him half-naked. “Thanks, although I don’t think it will mean a lot in a few months’ time,” Magoi answered with a heavy sigh. “Just between me and you, I don’t think the Fateweavers are going to survive this incident. Three of our high-ranking members went over to the communists, excluding Gehnigm himself, two immediately swore to fight on Romulus’ side once the events that partook two days ago were over. Of the remaining six, another two went to the Illuminati, one to the Turks, one to the Koreans, and the last one went to Prometheus. Only I stand impartial right now.”

“Are you saying that one of the three great non-combat guilds is in the process of breaking?” The prospect kind of scared John. He had been in this world only a few months, but the fact that the Fateweavers were there had been a staple fact.

“Yes, it seems we are exiting the age of us being an unaffiliated organization outside of politics and into the time where every guild will try to get their own little group of fateweavers, just like everyone is searching for technomancers nowadays. To be honest, my current neutrality is already putting me into a bit of a pickle,” Magoi took down his mask and behind was the scarred, jolly face of a man who was ready to strike a deal, one where both parties walked away happy and none were dicked over. “It seems I need to find my own benefactor before people start aggressively scouting me.”

“Is that so,” John also started smiling; “Sounds like you need someone just powerful enough for you to know they can be of help to you but not quite influential enough to be in a great bargaining position.”

“Best someone who is also going to eventually expand that influence with me at his side so I get a slice out of a probably continent sized pie,” the fateweaver nudged.

“Mhm, well, that doesn’t sound like me,” the Gamer lied.

“Well, it should sound like you, it is basically free real estate,” Magoi put the mask down on a nearby table. His jolly voice changed to a bit more serious tone for a moment, “I have spent over 200 years in the Fateweaver guild. I have helped build it from the ground up. The trust in our impartialness lies in shambles, and now the rest of the council are already pushing for reforms that will transform us into a sort of union group instead of a guild. Both Romulus and the Horned Rat seem to have been waiting for an opportunity like this. I need to cover my bases.”

“And you come to me as your… let me guess, third pick?” John asked; he very much doubted that he was going to be the first person to receive the offer of a high Fateweaver to work for him.

“No, I went to you first,” Magoi mused and put the mask back on. Then he tipped his top-hat with his cane so it sat perfectly crooked on his head while he leaned on said cane, giving him a nonchalant, eccentric rich guy look. “All the other guilds either have values I don’t particularly share, are based in abhorrent climates or are partly led by the Horned Rat, who I cannot stand. Working with the guy robs my every nerve.”

“Preaching to the choir,” John mumbled and sat on the edge of his two-person bed. “So you really want to get on boat with me early? I know our previous meetings have been nice, but are you really desperate enough to cast your lot with someone who you barely know?”

“I am a terrible judge of character,” Magoi shrugged, “but at my age you stop giving a damn. I don’t know if you are the best choice, but you are certainly not the worst. If the time after this war comes where you start to build your guild, will you remember today and extend your hand towards me, or do I have to search for some other employer?”

Moments of silence ticked by in which John mentally weighed pros and cons in his head. Magoi didn’t seem like the type of guy that would sell out his information; as a matter of fact, all the things he knew about his ability were still secret to everyone who hadn’t been involved in his deal with Lydia.

“I don’t know when I will rise to power,” John truthfully stated; “I don’t know how good I will be at it. I could certainly use help from someone who has some experience in running a larger organization.” The cons were so miniscule here. “I would be honoured to employ you.” And the gains so big. This was the decision John came to.

And so, in the middle of the war, John managed to make a deal that he was certain would come to help him in the future.

They left the room as a group; that actually was one of the ‘bigger on the inside’ style tents that had been given to John to rest in while he had to wait. He exchanged a few sentences with Rave, quickly informing her who Magoi even was, she never met the guy, and what had just transpired. The Fateweaver made it clear that this whole thing was to stay under wraps until everything had been set in stone.

“To be honest, the guild may yet stand intact, but I need to have a plan A,” he argued. Rave promised to keep it a secret, and that was that. They passed a whole load of people; they were in their improvised headquarters after all.

They had, for the lack of a better term, appropriated a plot of land in its entirety by creating a barrier on top of it. For one, that had the advantage of staying there for free, but it was mostly that a whole slew of people suddenly camping around a historical castle would have raised a few questions.

John had actually spent the night in a hotel, but after spending most of this day cleaning up yet more of the countryside, time being by far the greatest enemy, before coming here when the word of the Fateweaver being on his way reached him.

The white, medieval looking castle atop the tactical position of a stone hill looked down on John as he walked over the giant, magical table at the heart of the camp. It was an enchanted object that synced up with the central Roman network, thus granting them access to the greater war map.

Maximillian, standing next to the table and going over documents, noted the fact that Magoi arrived together with John with a raised eyebrow. “You are supposed to give me notice of your arrival first,” the king let out his unhappiness about this low-key slight against his authority.

“I had business to discuss, Maximillian a.k.a. the f-“

“Yes, yes, let’s skip all of that. As much as I like my titles, and I do like my titles, because they are mine and I deserve all of them…” the gravity mage stopped himself when he realized he was about to spend more time on himself than Magoi would have needed for his greeting; “Anyway, now that you are here, we can finally go to business.”

“There have been quite a few developments in the span of one day,” John said, looking at the map again. He hadn’t seen that thing since leaving Rome.

Two more guilds had joined the fight, the Illuminati and Odin’s Sons. The latter was actually a surprise, but, the way it looked, the Blood had started an attack on every front simultaneously. Probably a pre-emptive attempt to roll over everyone, hoping that a win in Rome would give them the momentum to take all of Europe at once.

In that vein: the Blood also had taken land of Prometheus, but the Greece centred guild still hadn’t joined the war on either side.

The inner conflicts situation seemed dealt with. Only the west of Styria, which they were currently working on, and Ulm remained in enemy hands. John was pretty certain at least their problem would be solved today.

There was a whole different set of changes with the Illuminati that he found largely discomforting though. Aside from the fact that they had gotten Wallonia back, that was. “Why are the Illuminati flooding into Britain?” John had to ask.

“An opportunistic move by unilateral vote of the Triumvirate that leads them,” Maximillian answered as he turned to the castle; “I very much doubt that Romulus will let them keep it, the conference after this war will be one of heated debate, I am sure. However, we have to deal with this here first.”

The grey walls were empty on this side of the barrier and served as a museum in reality. There was a third angle to it, however. The enemy base was that very castle, and so they had a Protected Space in place around it, which they had fortified against anyone getting in.

The answer to that strategy was to either starve them, which was unlikely to work if they even had a single water and plant mage, or to put another barrier on top. Several barriers in one spot wanted to meld together over time, like two kinds of cheese on a pizza in the oven. Of course, the enemy would have secured themselves against that as well, so they had to apply constant pressure by pumping mana into the barrier.

Eventually, like barraging city walls with catapults, they would do enough damage to the Fateweavers inside, who had to keep up the separation all the time, to grant them access. That could have taken weeks or months, however, time that nobody wanted to waste on this.

While John asked Maximillian about the greater political implications here, the one area where he was absolutely sure that the king had more expertise than himself, the high Fateweaver got to work. That process of getting inside would be greatly sped up now that Magoi was here. “This is going to take at least a month.” …or so they had hoped.

“What, why?” John wanted to know.

“Because of one of the deserters in there. It isn’t Gehnigm himself, if he was, we would be here for half an eternity, but this is still going to take a while,” Magoi laid out. John made a mental note that breaking into the barrier must have been the easier task then, seeing how Magoi was certain that he could win over his former superior eventually. With them working with the natural state of barriers instead of against it, it was easy to see why they were the ones with an advantage.

But that information didn’t help John’s current predicament. “Are there any alternatives?” he wanted to know. There was already an inkling in the back of his head. There was always one alternative to sieges.

“I could force open a short-term tear for long enough to get one person in,” Magoi said, and this confirmed what John had been thinking about: subterfuge. If one person could get in and take out the enemy fateweaver, then they had essentially won.

But who should get in there?