Tristan

One year.

One year since the Fomorian empire had been thoroughly smashed.

A little over two years since this whole mess had started.

All told, things were … workable, with a slight tendency towards improvement. The governments of the world were pretty barebones, working but unable to provide the full breadth of services they used to in the before times.

That would change, in time, unfortunately likely also to grow into the problematic "government consisting primarily of committees discussing how other committees are doing their jobs" kind of state.

But it was only a truly fucked up government that wasn't an improvement over anarchy.

And, I was sad to say, we had quite a few of those. Small, tiny, really, autocracies and dictatorships had sprung up all over the place, in locations unconnected to any larger organized lands that might have otherwise swallowed them up, mostly in Oceania and South America.

Australia, meanwhile … it had gotten utterly crushed in the very first Challenge, as it had boosted its already dangerous flora to utterly insane heights.

Because Australia.

After that, however, they'd rallied, begun to fight back, and finally gotten back into a good place, as though their world hadn't just gone to hell.

Because Australia.

The US was still there, still kicking, but also in a bit of a state, politically speaking. They'd gotten hit as badly as anyone else, while also being burdened with the ossified and bloated bureaucracy that everyone else was yet to return to, creating a mess I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole.

As for stability between the empires, meaning Frankia, Mongolia, and Mali, that was guaranteed to as great a degree as was humanly possible with a contract written by yours truly.

It was pretty complicated all told, but at the end of the day, it boiled down to "don't pick a fight for selfish reasons, if at all possible, don't pick a fight, period."

But because a contract that would have forced obedience was both trickable and would never have been signed, I'd done something else: put in a penalty clause that would transfer knowledge.

Specifically, the moment someone made a final decision to attack, not the actual declaration of war, but the moment the decision to make war had been finalized, all information on battle plans, the distribution of forces, the logistical situation, and everything else would immediately be copied and granted to all other signatories.

Nothing actually prevented anyone from starting a fight, but you'd be at a severe disadvantage once everyone knew exactly what you had, and where you had it, as well as where you were planning to put it, and what backup plans you'd made, just in case the people you were picking a fight with were a little too good at using their intelligence windfall. Plus, the backup plans for that as well.

And, mind you, the trigger of "final decision" wasn't something that could easily be avoided.

Going "you guys plan, don't tell me anything" would count as starting a war.

Rolling a die once a day until it showed a given number and only then firing the opening shot … well, coming up with that system and implementing it would still count, randomizing the actual start of hostilities wouldn't do jack.

Moving troops into position in preparation?

Same deal.

Any preparation one could possibly make to get around the treaty would automatically trigger the treaty, and thereby, at the barest minimum, inform everyone else of the fact that one was planning something.

That was the real sting in the tail. Yeah, you could still try something, but you couldn't do it in secret.

Though not everywhere was "stable." There were some seriously populist movements forming in most of the surviving democracies, whose leaders were promising the voters they'd get anything and everything they could ever want, without having to sacrifice even a single thing, and that pissed me off in a way I found hard to put into words for the longest time … until I figured it out.

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It was that it made me feel helpless.

Monsters could be fought, assholes could be punched in the face, even natural disasters could be countered somewhat, or at least responded to after the fact.

But populism? What was one to do?

Could you outlaw "being popular?" Of course not.

Could you outlaw grand lies? Putting free speech issues aside for the sake of argument, how the fuck were you supposed to put "grand promises that are intended to garner votes but not meant to be fulfilled" into law in a way that could actually be used?

And as for the "obvious" counter of making election promises binding … well, let's just say that anyone who tried would swiftly find themselves added to the list of "morons who made stupid laws without thinking of potential side effects."

After all, a lot of those highly unrealistic promises would have ruinous costs, monetary or otherwise, and I could easily picture most of history's populists ruining their countries trying to stay out of jail in the face of such laws.

Which left just one choice, the only choice, really.

Trust. Everyone.

Trust in their media literacy, trust in their ability to recognize bullshit, trust in them to think long term and do the best for everyone … and I simply didn't.

What was that quote again?

Ah, yes: think about how stupid the average person is, then remember that half are stupider than that.

Granted, the quote itself was flawed, considering it was referring to the median (or median average), rather than a normal average, mean average, if you wanted to get technical, and it was also more pessimistic than even I was, but it still had an uncomfortable ring of truth to it.

If you needed some people to act, then some people would act.

Hell, there were quite a few people I could think of whose response to armageddon would be to spit in the eye of God himself and demand a stay of execution; hell, in a way, the World Boss battles had been exactly that.

But to have the majority not fall for the lies of populists, especially those who would likely become autocrats once elected … call me a downer, but I wasn't confident in things working out in that kind of situation.

I mean, would I have elected Charlemagne in a proper German election?

Probably not, but I was okay with the current situation, living in Frankia.

Besides, if I hadn't been, leaving would have been a matter of milliseconds, and finding a nation willing to accept me wouldn't have taken that much longer.

Churchill's quote about how "democracy is the worst form of government except for every other form of government there is" had never felt more true.

In general … I did believe in democracy, I did believe that for all its faults, it was better than other forms of government over the long term.

But right here, right now, with all the chaos that was going on, I could appreciate the comparative stability of a monarchy, with the guy on the throne being competent.

As for everyone not tied down by their realm, or under a direct obligation to a ruler, meaning Ogier and Miller were mostly just doing their jobs.

Dietrich was off in Alfheim, hunting dragons, and had dragged along half the Fianna.

The other half was with Fionn, wiping out the few remnants of the System's challenges that were still hanging around.

Arthur and Merlin, meanwhile, were busy stabilizing the British government, which had taken one hell of a beating during the fifth challenge but was still "intact" in the sense that it hadn't been trashed as thoroughly as everything else. Drake had sort of joined them in that, then decided he wasn't going to help too much in such a heavily political arena, and gone off to explore some of the oceans in the other worlds.

Or so the official line went. Personally, I felt he'd just gotten bored.

And finally, then there was Joseph.

The Golem of Prague, a symbol of Jewish resilience.

He'd mostly been working towards making sure humanity as a whole didn't go extinct during the System's challenges, but even though he hadn't done anything to encourage it, he'd garnered quite the following.

As such, he'd been persuaded to move to Israel, though I was pretty sure that if shit hit the fan elsewhere, he'd head there to protect the Jewish population. Because now that we weren't all in danger, he could focus on doing what he'd been born to do.

I, in the meanwhile, spent my time working to fix things, both physically and diplomatically. [Restoration of the Old] to put old structures back up when they were as good as we could build right now, or of historical value, magic to help in other ways when not.

Diplomatic entreaties to small enclaves of survivors.

Putting monuments that might have otherwise fallen by the wayside back up, such as the Pyramids of Giza… assuming I didn't have anything else of importance to do.

As for the other worlds, slow diplomatic contacts were being made, but for as much of a mess as the Fomorians had left them in, the System had left us in a nearly as bad a state, and while dwarven magical craftsmanship was a huge boon we were more than willing to trade for, the others didn't really have too much to offer. And sadly, it wasn't like there were very many resources left for humanitarian aid.

All around, how things would go from here on Earth … it would be interesting.

We had magic, we had Skills, we had supernaturally good health.

Right now, things were good, but at the same time, the only thing humanity was better at than building stuff was breaking stuff.

I guessed the only thing left to do was hope that that little voice inside my head telling me that I'd use my power responsibly when push came to shove remained right, and that I'd do my part when necessary.

Because, at the end of the day, wasn't "your best" the most that one could do, the most that could be expected of anyone?

Finis

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