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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2024-10-01 21:17:49+00:00.

First

Not Exactly Hidden

“And so?” Daiju asks after Hart’Ghuran’s two hour power study session.

“… It’s clever. It’s also small and the sort of thing that if not found early can be come a big problem, but where the multiple other attacks distractions from this? Was this a distraction from them or was it all just a massive number of attacks with this portion being just one of many prongs?”

“That doesn’t actually answer the question as to what the attack is.”

“It’s in the expiring contracts. Essentially buried in the midst of lists of things that are being allowed to expire are numerous patents and production rights. I need to run some more numbers, but if my initial impression is correct… this could cripple the Ghuran economy.”

“By restricting patents they could open you up to being sued for copy right infringement of all kinds just on simple production and legally demand that you stop all production of a certain product. Get it in enough base products and you can no longer produce them at home, massively increasing cost and in the end…”

“Breaking the economy.”

“Not quite, but it’s a crippling blow that could take decades, if not centuries to fully recover from.” Hart’Ghuran explains before smiling. “The strength and weakness of an attack like this is that it’s not a single blow, it’s many hundreds of tiny cuts. Countering each one takes it’s own effort, and a few small cuts are easily lost in the confusion and panic. But… if they are all accounted for, then each one can be easily countered.”

“You have a defence?”

“Yes, and it needs not a mighty shield or bulwark, but instead a solid suit of chainmail.”

“I did not know that Apuk used chainmail in the past.”

“We didn’t, however I did make a brief study of human military history.”

“How brief?”

“An hour or two of lightly browsing the information plundered from the newest species to bumble into the galaxy.”

“Makes sense. So what’s the plan?”

“I’m going to call a large number of my captains of industry and inform them of the problem and then my answer to it. Tax cuts for anyone who finds a legal patent by another species similar to, if not identical to the ones they’re already using. A higher one for those bold enough to market it as an exotic new change to bring some extra spice to the life of Serbow.”

“If that works your tax intake might go up rather than down even with the cuts.” Daiju notes in an amused tone.

“Exactly. It’s the fun part of the economic section of the game. There’s an actual way to measure success for definitive results, some people spend their whole lives just trying to fully understand it and giving them a bit of your own favour lets you use their expertise with ease.” Hart’Ghuran says with a nod.

“This is going to piss them off.”

“Yes, but I doubt species like yours will care much about the dynastic squabbling of the Apuk. Not to mention there are numerous laws to prevent interference with out species on top of the risks of getting in legal trouble outside of Serbow. Which would be seen as downright disgraceful by the rest.”

“Allowing public perception to shield you from the majorities of counters to your counters.”

“Yes, and no doubt someone will find some kind of counter even with all this, but there’s only so many moves one can plan in advance with any true reliability. The nature of people being what it is makes these games too unpredictable to truly plan things out in such advance. Master plotters that can read a person’s entire history and get an accurate prediction of their future are either doing so in only the broadest terms and with limited at best success or are works of fiction themselves.”

Things are still in motion.”

“Correction. Right now I’m on defence, but I’m watching for a chance of my own.”

“Who’s to say this isn’t a potential retaliation in the making as well? Most strikes in physical combat leave an opponent open if they’re properly countered in some way, what to say these won’t be the same?”

“Likely they are, but without access to knowing just how important these patents are to my rivals I have no way of knowing how vulnerable they’ve made themselves from this. I’ll still be retaliating, but they’ll be swings in the dark. Meaning ones I cannot offer the amount of force I’d like to them. Otherwise I’ll leave myself open.’

“Very good, there’s just one more thing to consider.”

“My children…”

“Your children. Make them part of this. Trust me, it will be worth it.” Daiju offers.

“You think they’re ready for this?”

“Whether they are or not, respecting them and making them part of things will bring them closer to you. Some might never be ready to engage politics at this level. Children are not their parents and have different ambitions, dreams and desires. You might never see eye to eye with them, but if you conceal nothing from them then they will at least know you are honest with them. Let them learn from you.” Daiju says and Hart’Ghuran considers for a few moments then smiles.

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They had been called by their duke. They had been called and they had only entered to find themselves intimidated. Three new heads were atop his manor’s outer wall. Fresh Apuk heads. A small sign denoting them as TRAITORS hung next to them and the blood was still wet.

It didn’t get better passing through. There was small army of Apuk in stasis with a simple sign stating ‘Awaiting Judgment’ next to them.

So going to speak to a nobleman with a tendency to solve things in one of the most definitive ways imaginable was not comfortable. Especially when her business was already…

The door is opened before them and waiting for them in the entrance hall is Hart’Ghuran Duke of Ghuran and… and a man not to be taken lightly. A man surrounded by his young daughters, many of them old enough to be his sisters rather than children.

As she crosses the threshold she is momentarily struck by just how young the feared Duke is. This man should be worried about parties, rumours and whatever silly trouble he can get into and out of. Not leading the economy, security and culture of an entire duchy. Even compared to the humans that emerged from Cruel Space he’s young. Barely an adult by any standard. And yet still in charge, because no one else is left to do it.

He waits for everyone to enter and nods to them all before turning around without a word and leading them all to the room between the main stairs. Inside that is a large meeting hall with table. The sort of thing you would find in any movie about the olden times before first contact where lords and ladies would plot the course of entire nations, where wars were decided.

Neither movies nor business meeting halls could come close to the sheer sensation of history and strength emanating from this old room with older trophies decorating the walls. Broken blades taken from the bodies of enemies, majestic shell armour rent in two by the force of a warrior’s blows. Documents of surrender, captured banners and writs of ownership and trade.

Surrounded by this is a single formal sword, so old it has not the spikes of a traditional warblade, so old it’s size is downright puny as it was earned before the widespread adoption of Axiom Combat. Older than every other trophy. The runed weapon was part of a tradition no longer followed, the thrice gifted blade. A weapon broken over a hated enemy, reforged and gifted to a lord alongside the loyalty of the wielder, who would break it again and then remake it into a symbol of their vaunted nobility.

Few had the power to break a blade over an enemy in those days. Less had the humility to swear to a lord after doing so, and of those rare few that accomplished all that, only a handful survived long enough for their lords to recognize them as truly worthy knights.

It is said that the Ghuran’s Sword was gifted to them when a simple farmer woman lost one of her daughters to a corrupt soldier in her Lady’s Army. She stole one of the soldier’s two swords and killed her with it, breaking the blade against her opponent. Then reforged it and apologized for the damage to the only thing of worth with the soldier. She had been hired as a warrior on the spot and served for thirty years. Then upon her deathbed the daughter of her Lady presented her with the blade remade again and elevated the woman and her daughters to Knighthood. Her grave was still on the family grounds, the family had made a point of keeping track of it.

Most museums struggle to have a gallery half so well stocked or storied.

“Please be seated.” Hart’Ghuran states.

“My Lord? What is this about?”

“We are under attack is what this about. And I am going to show you how it’s being done so that we may repel the blow.”

“Attack? But… if it’s war then why are we here? I’m not a fighter, I run a business, I own steel mills and several chemical plants.”

“Allow me to clarify.” Hart’Ghuran says as he guides his children into their own seats. “We are under economic attack, all of your industries and businesses are being effected and as your Duke it is my duty to aid you in this time of need. There is a problem, and there is a solution I will help you with, if you find my answer insufficient then we will seek out a better one together.”

“The patents?”

“Very well spotted, yes, I can nearly guarantee you that the failure of your business partners to re…

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