Chapter 547: Aban Ascendant

It took Aban less than ten days to arrange his father’s death in a way that maximized the benefits he gained. He had to work quickly, since he overestimated the time it would take his father to gather the leadership and return for the obligatory feasting and negotiating.

The giants disparaged as "Tree Cutters," just for choosing a lifestyle safer than titan hunting, were technically one clan, the Vioja. In truth, they were divided between merchants, farmers, and warriors of the three most powerful families. They had no cities, but rather a loose association of three villages, smaller than Taengard, but any two could give the Titan Hunters significant trouble.

So rather than try his father’s usual, violent methods, he went on a charm offensive the moment they arrived with the old giant on the fifth day since he went to invite them.

Compared to corporate politics, it was as easy as paying for a ride to orbit.

At first, he played the loyal but tired son. He told the oldest children of the Hror, Veldi, and Aeg clans his dream of uniting all giants to take the continent and make it theirs. He confessed disagreement with his father’s idea of building a kingdom, laced with suggestions that if he were a king, he would serve their clans more than rule. Of course, he also wowed them with shows of magic while downplaying his own intelligence.

When questioned about his Oldborn status, he painted a very different version of his memories than the truth, using the basics of capitalism to seed their minds with the notion that superior competitors would naturally rise to the top, and naturally they all considered their families to be the superior competitor compared to each other, but especially compared to the Titan Hunters, who they all saw as brutish. The funny thing was that his desire to civilise his clan was rather genuine, even if his actual plan to do so was to get close enough to the more advanced city of Norneau to harvest their secrets to his advantage.

By tossing breadcrumbs of the ancient city’s existence, embellished with made-up stories he considered plausible under the assumption it was like an Earth-modern city had been, he had them believing that the city was a ruin ripe for plundering. But of course, none of them wanted to try it with the barrier still up. But he planted the idea deeper by confessing his clan’s imminent meeting with an Imperial archaeologist as an omen of things to come.

"The sad thing is, if my father had his way, he would sell our services rather than demand we be treated as the conquerors of this land. He’s probably threatening all of your fathers right now to make sure no one else tries for the barrier." Of course, he was, since that was what Aban paid half his father’s closest advisors to advocate for. He’d had them in his pocket since he was twelve, using a combination of magical threats and rewards to make it clear he was no child to be disregarded.

Atla, of the mercantile Hrors, was the only female in the group of five and the oldest youth in her family. She was the first to follow the breadcrumbs to their logical end. "But if we join together, we can give terms to the Empire. And you can make sure we all get an even share, since no one can challenge your magic." She flashed him an appraising look, and he produced a look of shy interest, tempting her into more amateur attempts at seduction. If he had to bed or marry her, he would, but the scars on her face, relics of some monster attacking her first trade caravan, were far from tempting. That and her shaggy orange hair made her seem more handsome than beautiful.

He preferred his women flawless and submissive.

"Aye, but can you actually use it if it came to a fight? You Titan Hunters decide all with combat, right?" Gribod of the Aeg family, the warriors of Vioja grunted.

Aban winced, projecting an air of conscious discomfort. "I’d rather not resort to violence, my father’s been good to me. Perhaps your families can convince him to step down?"

"Our father would sooner cut off his balls than work with the Hrors," the Veldi heir, Surdr, spoke for himself and his younger brother Aylief. "You’ve been skinflintin’ us for generations, making us sell through ya," he accused Atla.

Aban had to hide his smile. This was exactly what he’d wanted. He’d done plenty of research into their old grudges over the years, and he needed them wary of each other so that he, as the neutral but concerned party, could be placed as the mediator. Downplaying his intelligence and showing a kinder side would make him seem manipulable, and the best way to control someone was always to play to what they wanted.

He let the accusations and arguments fly for a couple of minutes before amplifying his voice to shout, "Enough!" Once he had silence, he continued, "I know you have your differences, but if we don’t work together, or you won’t at least consider it as working with me. Then none of this matters. The Empire will get the lion’s share, and knowing my father, he’ll blow what we make on weapons. He’d try to make a kingdom of ten thousand giants instead of our own empire of a hundred thousand."

Boli, the rotund younger brother of Atla, and by far the more intelligent of the two, burst out laughing. "You’ve got ambition, Aban, but all you’ve got to show for it is promises and magic tricks. Strong ones, I grant you, but you could still eat death from someone more experienced than you."

Now for the masterstroke. Aban thought about the moment of his death to grow angry enough to give his next words a ring of true emotion. "And how do you want me to prove it? By challenging my father for control of the clan? Because if that’s what it takes, I’ll fight him."

Ayleif, who had been silent the whole time while holding his chin, finally spoke, his voice smooth and serious. "Our father respects strength. Even farmers have differences to settle, but I don’t think he’d respect my brother and me trying to win him over until you’ve proven yourself. If you were to win control of the clan, we could convince him to listen to you... provided you’re willing to offer us a token of good faith."

"What sort of token?" Aban asked, knowing he’d hooked the Veldi.

"Your titan hunts are wasteful. The offal from the beasts gets left out to rot. If you were to let the Veldi accompany your hunts, handle all that your clan doesn’t presently value, it could boost our harvests and feed an empire of giants with mana-rich grain."

"When I win, I think I can offer that," Aban said.

"Ayleif, you know Father won’t look kindly on deals behind his back," Surdr cautioned.

"So we tell him some of it. I’m actually interested in what Aban has to offer."

Boli interrupted Ayleif to add, "We’re not about to be left out if titans are on the offer. We’d want bones and soulstones."

"I can’t offer soulstones," Aban said. "And giving up all the bones would bankrupt the Titan Hunters. We wouldn’t be able to fund more hunts."

"Half then," Boli said, still highballing him. "If the Aeg go along with ye, that’ll mean you get more hunters, no?"

"But then we’d be splitting the takes with the Aeg as well. It would only be fair," Aban argued, causing the Aeg heir to perk up at Aban’s show of generosity. "How about a quarter?"

"A quarter share will barely cover the cost of moving the parts!" Boli lied. It was obvious to Aban because he knew how much titan bones and soulstones sold for. To call it ridiculous was an understatement, given the Empire seemed more than willing to just throw gold at acquiring them.

"A quarter sounds more than fair," Gribod said. "Split evenly for all."

"But we can’t just break up the soulstones," Boli whined.

The fact that they were arguing details over each other only fueled Aban’s pride at having manipulated them this far. None of them would back out now that one or both of their competitors seemed intent on joining the conspiracy. They were a reflection of their parents, after all, and the Chief of the Titan Hunters had played those same parents against each other for decades for the benefit of the clan.

In the end, the youths all said they would speak to their parents, with promises of equal shares for all parts and splitting the sale of soulstones, but with the Titan Hunters receiving forty per cent to each other’s twenty. Of all of them, Aban found Boli the most useful. The giant had a keen mind for numbers and, more to the point, some actual skill with magic, albeit of the moving-dirt-around variety.

Having a one-man construction team would factor heavily when it came to taking the port of Reclaim by force, if it became necessary.

By the time they all parted to sleep, and perhaps conspire with their family heads, the only thing left for Aban to do was publicly challenge and kill his father, since he had no intention of keeping the old giant alive. Of course, the death of his father would be a pitiable "accident." Aban’s intent was to stop the man’s heart with a combination of slow suffocation and magic-generated electricity.

His father may have been the greatest on the continent when it came to internal magic, but that didn’t make him any less electrically conductive, nor did it mean he didn’t have to breathe. Unknown to even his closest friends, Aban had long ago mastered the ability to hold multiple spells at the same time. It was mana-intensive, but two external spells on top of his own internal defensive augmentations wouldn’t be too much of a burden as long as he played it safe. And because he’d taken more than a few punches from the old giant, he knew exactly how much he needed.

The family heads were meeting tomorrow for an early lunch. By dinner, he fully intended to be the one sitting on his father’s throne.

Not bad for a few days’ work.