Jessica blushed fiercely.

"I forgot?" she confessed meekly.

Bob rubbed the bridge of his nose while his other hand sought out Monroe.

"Death and taxes," she could practically hear his teeth grinding. "The two certainties in life. Now I'll grant that the system provides a bit of a reprieve from the first, but the second remains immutable."

"Have you been keeping track at least?" Bob asked.

"I have," Jessica replied as she pulled her tablet out of her bag.

She came up with the number they were looking for immediately. "We've pulled two hundred and sixty-one thousand, four hundred and eighty crystals out of our Dungeon so far," she said proudly.

"Do you, perchance, have twenty-six thousand, one hundred and forty-eight crystals on hand?" Bob asked patiently.

Jessica winced. "No, we don't," she admitted. "We just finished reincarnating the old folks yesterday, and I've got a half dozen Curators building out a new floor with what we had leftover from that."

"But," she hastened to add, "we're pulling almost twenty-five thousand crystals a day now, so give us a day and a half, and we'll have it."

Bob nodded slowly. "I can make that work," he muttered, "I'll have to blitz my way back, but I can make it work."

"Sorry," Jessica said helplessly, "we got so caught up in it all, it completely slipped my mind."

Bob waved the apology aside with the hand not occupied by Monroe. "I've technically got three days to present the King's tax, so just make sure you keep it held back next time."

"Will do," she replied happily, glad to have put that particular matter to bed, at least for the moment. "If you haven't got anything on, I was going to head to the D&D club tonight and play with Amanda and Dave's group?"

"They were my next stop," Bob shrugged, "assuming they have their taxes gathered, I'll have a few hours free."

"Let's head out then, yeah?" Jessica asked, maneuvering to slip her arm under Bob's. "You can portal further than I can," she explained, tugging at his arm while adroitly dodging the swish of a large fluffy tail that would have smacked her across the face.

Bob was relieved to discover that Dave had kept track of the mana crystals that had been pulled from the D&D groups' Dungeon.

"We've kept track of how many we've gathered, and we've held back ten percent," Dave confirmed. "Amanda's the one holding them, but we have a copy of our ledger and a dimensional pouch with the correct amount."

"Thank you," Bob sighed, "after finding out the Aussies hadn't been keeping the tithe back, I was afraid you wouldn't have either."

Dave shook his head in mock disapproval. "For shame," he intoned solemnly, then broke into a grin. "So is Karl the Mighty Barbarian of the Southern Beaches going to make an appearance at the table tonight?"

Bob smiled in return, "I've got a few hours free, I sort of expected this to take the entire day, or at least I set the day aside for it. I could use a break from the grind anyway."

"What are we grinding?" Amanda asked with a wicked smile as she appeared behind Dave, wrapping her arms around his chest while she peeked over his shoulder.

"Monsters," Bob replied. "I want to push through to tier seven before reincarnating, but damn if that threshold between tier six and tier seven isn't a mountain's worth of crystals."

"How many?" Amanda asked curiously.

"Sixty-four thousand level thirty-seven or higher crystals," Bob grumbled.

"That's a lot," Dave said, his tone measured as his eyes lost focus for a moment.

"More than you think," Bob sighed, "it turns out that the higher the level of the monster, the less frequently crystals coalesce. Where it was somewhere between point zero one five to point zero two percent at the lower levels, it's now barely over point zero one."

Dave winced. "Yeah, that's got to hurt," he replied.

"Pulling twelve-hour days, the math works out to be around three hundred and seventy days, plus or minus," Bob agreed, "assuming I can grind five days a week, that's a solid five hundred and twenty days, plus whatever catastrophes I can't avoid."

"Wouldn't it be cheaper just to reincarnate?" Dave asked, frowning.

"In the long run, had I reincarnated immediately, sure," Bob replied. "But I didn't, and at this point, the push through is much less than the time and crystals required to reincarnate and work my way back up."

He lowered his voice before continuing. "There is also the not so minor concern that if I were suddenly low level, someone from one of the alphabet agencies might decide that having a pet Bob would be just great."

"But you just said you were going to reincarnate at tier seven?" Amanda asked.

"After the update," Bob explained. "Once I feel like I can hide away for a while without feeling like I'm letting anyone down."

"It seems like the U.S. government has a fairly good handle on things," Dave said, "or well enough that they felt confident kicking you out of Glacier Valley. The Aussies are getting started already as well, the Queen of England is delving like a woman possessed, and we have to assume that the Canadians and the Mexicans are moving forward with their own plans."

Dave reached out slowly and put his hand on Bob's shoulder, Thayland style. "Give yourself a break," he advised, "you did it, you not only got the ball rolling on the government side, but you've civilians as well."

"We've got almost two thousand more D&D players who want to attend the next 'event,'" Amanda made air quotes with her free hand.

Dave nodded, "Take the win," he squeezed Bob's shoulder for a moment before pulling his hand back.

Bob closed his eyes just for a second and took a deep breath. He had won, hadn't he? Earth, or at least the governments of a few major countries, knew what was happening, and from what little he'd overheard, they had a plan. It apparently involved outright lying to the rest of the world, but it was a plan that involved moving everyone to Thayland, so ultimately it was what he'd hoped for.

"I've got a project with the Old Guard, and then I'm going to grind for a bit," Bob opened his eyes. He grinned irreverently, "I'm pretty sure they've made an executive decision that is bound to annoy some executives, and somehow when they start looking for someone to blame, I have a feeling my name is going to be toward the top of their list."

"Do tell," Amanda grinned as she disentangled herself from Dave and slid into the chair next to him.

"Based on what I've seen, I think that they are going to pull every disabled veteran in the country over to Thayland," Bob said. "They plan to start Friday night and finish by Monday morning. One weekend, starting with folks who are homeless, then those who aren't and finishing with the people who are stuck in hospitals."

Dave whistled. "That's a lot of people," he said thoughtfully, then paused. "Where the hell are they going to go?"

"Mike had a brilliant idea," Bob admitted, "they will be camping out on the top of the glacier. The Old Guard built out a hundred single-floor Dungeons to keep the mana flow under control, and they'll be camped out, grinding those little Dungeons in groups for crystals while they build a metropolis in the valley they've chosen."

"Isn't, ya know, cold, on top of the glacier?" Amanda asked.

"Apparently not so cold that they can't camp out there," Bob replied, shaking his head.

He'd asked Mike that same question, but Mike had assured him that they would be fine. While Bob had an appreciation for nature, it was of the hiking and sightseeing variety. Camping was a luxury he'd never had time or money for.

"I can see how that might start a bit of a furor," Dave agreed.

Bob nodded. "That's why I'm going to make myself scarce afterward. It isn't my plan, I'm just throwing regenerate rituals."

"It's Thursday," Amanda said slowly, "and you said you have to pay the King's taxes in three days, which would be Sunday."

"I'll have to take a break from the Regenerate rituals to meet Jessica in Glacier Valley, pick up her taxes, pick up Nora, and then head Harbordeep, and drop off the crystals, and head back," Bob grimaced. "It's going to be a long weekend."

"If I might be so bold, your Majesty is looking well," Huron bowed from the waist.

Elizabeth laughed lightly. "Such observations are hardly untoward," she assured him, "Phillip knows perfectly well that he holds our heart."

"When do you plan to bring your consort to Thayland, or are you planning to have him reincarnated back on Earth?" Huron asked.

She noted the use of the word 'when' rather than 'if.' Huron was an astute man.

"We expect to have him reincarnated on Earth," she replied, "his condition is stable at the moment, but travel isn't advisable," she sighed. "We must ever look to the well-being of our citizens, even to the exclusion of our own happiness. We have plans in motion that will free him from the close observation he suffers."

Huron nodded. "I look forward to meeting him," he smiled.

"He will likely be in a rush to match our level," Elizabeth sighed, "he has always been driven to provide us with as much support as possible, and being in a position where he is unable to render aid isn't one he would be willing to accept for any length of time, given the choice."

"On a less personal note, his Majesty asked when we might expect your citizens to begin establishing a safe haven within Greenwold," Huron's voice was smooth and even.

She took a moment to consider that question. In truth, she'd had the twenty-second regiment briefed, and they were in the process of quietly gathering the materials they would need for an extended deployment. Unlike the United States, the United Kingdom did not keep her soldiers ready to deploy in force to invade and hold foreign soil. While a small deployment was possible, a larger one required considerably more time. It had been a hard lesson to learn, in her youth, that the British Empire had been eclipsed by its estranged cousins across the pond.

"Is his Majesty so eager to have refugees making a mess in his Kingdom?" She asked lightly.

"Perhaps not the mess," Huron chuckled, "but rather the revenue from his taxes. The United States Government paid its first monthly tax yesterday through Robert Whitman and then Lady Nora Wallenstair. His Majesty was pleased with not only the lack of graft but also the raw productivity shown."

"We can imagine," she murmured.

And well she could. From what Jason had reported, the United States Military had a full forty Dungeons operating in Glacier Valley, each a full twenty-six floors deep. A bit of light math had indicated that they would likely be pulling more than three hundred million crystals each month from them. She could well imagine the King of Greenwold had been excited when he'd received his taxes.

From what she understood, the United States Military currently had more troops delving their Dungeons than the entire Kingdom of Greenwold counted citizens.

"Thirty-two million mana crystals," Huron shook his head ruefully. "I do believe his Majesty actually smiled."

"What will his Majesty do with his increased revenue?" Elizabeth asked.

"There are sixty-seven towns and villages in Greenwold that lack defensive fortifications, and of those, nearly all of the Dungeons are not constructed utilizing the Orstang Gateway method," he explained. "Beyond those two improvements, which will save countless lives, there a host of other improvements needed, although they vary from place to place." He smiled brightly, "His Majesty intends to launch a vast program of public works, taking advantage of the influx of crystals available."

She nodded. There was no way to verify the truth of his claims, but from what she'd witnessed, Huron hadn't misled thus far. "Something to understand is that the United States Military is the largest in our world," she began. "Although often maligned and mismanaged, those troops have been deployed around the globe. While we will place our soldiers against any others, and expect them to prove the most capable in the world, a wise man once stated, 'Quantity has a quality all its own,' and the United States has many more men under arms."

"We expect to field several thousand men beginning next week," she continued. "We will be taking care to have one in ten become a curator, which will allow us to expand rapidly. We won't be bringing nearly as many people over as our friends across the pond, but rest assured, man for man, we'll be equally productive."

Huron nodded. "His Majesty will be pleased," he replied, then allowed himself to slip effortlessly into a less formal tone. "He was really quite taken with the idea of vertical farming," he smiled, "he has been working stone models, designing towns and cities to take advantage of the concept, working out where best to place farms to ensure they receive the necessary sunlight, while not keeping the rest of the town constantly cast in shadow."

Elizabeth smiled kindly. The King of Greenwold seemed to genuinely care for his subjects, which was a refreshing change. She had half expected him to be a petty tyrant, like the dictators and despots she's had to deal with on occasion.

"I would like to ask for an introduction to your clergy," Huron said, pulling her from her thoughts. "It would seem that your church holds similar beliefs to our own Church of the Light," Huron held up a bible, "even going so far as to identify the virtues we ought to strive for. While your diety is depicted differently than ours, the basis of the values remains the same."

"We can request that a member of the church attend us," she began slowly, "however, we can't order them to do so, as the Church, acting as our intermediaries toward God, must be exempt from the royal decree."

"Still, we can't imagine that the Chruch would deny us the comfort of a spiritual advisor, and it would be uncouth to refuse an introduction between two men of faith when they are attending us," she finished with a smile, which Huron matched.

"I'll look forward to it," Huron promised, then paused as a knock sounded at the door. "It would appear our time is done for the day," he murmured, standing and smoothing his coat. "Delving the eighteenth floor today?"

Elizabeth nodded happily as the door was opened by her guards, allowing the rest of her group to enter. "We expect to cap our skills today and advance to level eighteen, with our eyes on the nineteenth floor tomorrow."

Huron bowed and left. Elizabeth shook her head as Jason opened his mouth, and he shut it with a click. It was nice to see that the boy could be trained. They'd talk in the Dungeon. As well as they'd been treated, she held no illusions that there was any privacy to be had in her quarters.