Some of the benefits of living in a world that ran on bullshit video game logic were the System enhanced classes. It took the guesswork out of picking people to advise him.
If he needed help with economics, a high level Economist could model scenarios and pick the best one. Likewise, a Teacher or Education Administrator would be able to help with creating a functioning school system.
Some people were still greedy assholes, or working for outside interests. But it was way better than how things usually worked on Earth, where the most popular candidate got the position instead of the most qualified one.
Apparently Francis’ style of leadership was practically unique. Most rulers in Vahnis didn't run their kingdoms based on merit. They took a “might is right” approach, ruling by royal decree and leaving their administrators to sort out the inevitable mess.
That probably explained why political assassinations were so common among the nobility. When rulers refused to listen, a dagger in the back was the next best thing to a talking stick.
The Marine sat back in his chair and listened as the counselors discussed various issues. The Best of Brexis had the usual mix of specialists and politicians. But he was particularly proud of his own contribution to the council.
Sitting down at the end of the table was a group of normal citizens. There was an old man, a guard, a farmer, a grunt, a small child, a mother, and an idiot. Francis was particularly proud of the idiot. He was worth his weight in gold.
Smart people, by the very nature of their intelligence, were bad at thinking like idiots. They had no idea how a person of normal, or lower than average intelligence, would react to their plans. They tended to assume that things were obvious, somehow forgetting that the average citizen had the education of a potato.
The small child was great too. She mercilessly poked holes in their logic. Half of the time all it took was a few questions to send an entire plan back to the drawing board. The same went for the grunt and the guard.
Any plan or policy that relied solely on the good will of people to work was immediately ridiculed. They once again proved their worth when the Economists and Sociologists had tried to re-invent Communism.
Before Francis could step in and tell them how that had turned out back on his world, the guard had spoken up. He explained that it was a nice theory, but people were greedy bastards and it would all end in tears.
Rounding out the council’s blindspots were the others. None of the non-council members had a vote. But by pointing out the flaws in a plan or decision out loud, on the record, they forced the council to take responsibility for ignoring their feedback.
It wasn't all sunshine and roses though. The “regular people” as they had been dubbed were full of bad advice. They weren't specialists or high level politicians. But, even their bad feedback was useful sometimes.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Chuck looked at the farmer with a blank expression. He usually enjoyed his job as Treasurer, but it also meant dealing with a fair share of idiots. “You want to raise tariffs?”
“Yeah,” he said smugly, “Why should citizens pay taxes when we can have foreigners foot the bill?”
The Magical Charger turned Unicorn sighed. “Look, dipshit. Increased tariffs mean that either trade doesn't flow through here, or that the costs get passed on to the consumer.”
He waved a hoof and a series of charts appeared in the air, all the figures neatly written out in glitter. “Um, we don't really do income tax in Brexis. Most of our money comes from rent, and currently the price of grain is being held up by increased demand.
“So, if we were to increase tariffs people would end up paying more for food. Your own pockets would get lighter as your own cost of living went up, neatly screwing you out of any increased profit you might make on your crops. That is, assuming we were willing to buy from you instead of outsiders.”
The Farmer was livid. “You would buy their grain instead of mine?”
“You bet your ass I would, if it was cheaper and of similar quality. We have a lot of people to feed and a limited budget.” Chuck looked over to the guard. “Did you have something to contribute?”
The man shook his head. “Nah, it's the same old same old. The skellies keep the adventurers from causing too much trouble. High level or not, nobody wants to get swarmed by undead.”
Francis completely agreed with that. His stats were absolutely bonkers and even he had zero desire to mess with a swarm of skeletons. System’s rules meant that getting surrounded sucked, no matter how high level you were.
He sat back and listened as the talking continued. Leading the council meetings wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, but it was part of his job. The Marine sighed.
Goddamn, I wish I could go out and kill something instead of being stuck in here.
As if answering his prayers, Francis heard shouting from somewhere outside. The Marine grinned. It was time to get some killing done.
***
Paladins were a pain in the ass. What they lacked in utility skills they more than made up for in tankiness and damage. They also tended to go on holy rampages over small ideological differences.
In this case, a large brute with a mace was trying to make his way through the palace gardens. “Die! Die you undead filth!” the Paladin raged as he chased a golden skeleton.
The undead servant was wearing a gardener’s outfit and holding a basket of apples. It had been mid harvest when the Paladin attacked. As a non-combatant, it was geared more towards self preservation than defending the palace.
Its creator had left those duties to the swarms of simpler skeletons. They were much cheaper to produce and program. Currently a grinning horde of undead was climbing over the walls to intercept the Paladin. Francis got there first.
He was usually fairly laid back as rulers went. Compared to the other deities, Francis was practically benign. But he was also a Marine and a Texan. Someone violating the confines of his home was just asking for a H.E.B. sized can of whoopass to be opened right under their nose.
Francis summoned Relativity and took a swing at the Paladin. “Bend over, here it comes!” He called out gleefully.
Fuck, I almost forgot how much I missed this.