I'm the King Of Technology C.1883 Plans to End It All

The end was near, they, Witches, had to play their cards coolly for everything to tie in just right. This means they must sometimes do things that make them extremely uncomfortable.

A well-maintained leader with her left shoulder robe halfway down, slowly opened her lazy eyes, while tapping her pointy fingernails on her armrest in rhythm.

"What do you suppose is the difference between Good and Evil?"

"Men!" Martha blurted out, causing the lazy-looking elder the chuckle. "Well, you wouldn't be wrong. We, witches, must control these men and keep them under wraps at all times…. That said, sometimes, we must pretend to work with them, if it means fighting for a cause."

As they say, the end always justifies the means.

Although Martha nodded, her face showed her distaste for the thought.

Pap.

A sealed envelope fell inches before her kneeling body.

"Take this and head towards Bayhound city in the central plains… Look for a farmer called Mosby. You must stay back in Bayhound City, till we tell you otherwise."

Martha's heart skipped a beat when reaching for the sealed envelope.

"Elders, you wouldn't be thinking of–"

"Yes, that is exactly what we were thinking."

"YOU, YOu, You, you–"

Martha's questioning voice degenerated into childish whispers after realizing she had raised her voices at the elders.

Can you blame her?

All their lives, they have been taunted and haunted by one particular group, and now, they were actively seeking an alliance with those cruel and villainous brutes?

Those Morgs... Those annoying, pesky MRGs have been a thorn in their flesh for generations and generations in the past.

What did they not do to they, witches? It baffled them how these Morg Men could feel so arrogant when everyone knows a man should live in a pig style at the mercy of their female owners.

It was the audacity, for Martha. How dare mere men raise their shoulders and even dare to feel superior to women?

If she could, she wished all men should die!

Crazy! Crazy!

Martha felt her world spinning when knowing she was going to see a Morg.

A bloody MORG!

Her intestines already churned from the thought, and her face grew ashen. "Elders, does the Grand High Witch know about this?"

"Of course she does," The elders replied with large grins. "High Witch Jamila and everyone in the council agrees to this."

"So who are you, a little bird, to question the orders given to you?"

"Preposterous!"

…

The air grew cold as all 3 elders spoke in synch, as if having one mind.

Martha's body began to shiver when seeing the cold eyes planted on her. The atmosphere was so stiff, her forehead began to sweat.

Recalling her questionable actions earlier, she felt like slapping her former self inn the face for the outburst.

Yes. Who was she to challenge any orders from above? Even if they asked her to jump into an active volcano, she must do it for the greater cause. The elders themselves must hate the fact that they had to swallow their hatred and pride to seek an audience with the Morgs. So who did she think she was to ever doubt or question their decisions?

"Forgive me Elders, for my insolence!"

No longer having the appetite to speak to Martha, waved their hands nonchalantly.

"Leave… You leave tonight… But a word to the wise,…"

"Should you let your emotions disrupt the organization's plans… you, dear Martha, will be labeled as a traitor!!"

"So it's best you learn how to control your expression and hold your tongue in their presence."

In fact, it's best she looked as though she was madly in love with them.

Remember that it was they who wished to seek an audience with the Morgs. It was they, who wished to use the TOEP's powers to pull Lucy and those pesky Baymardians down. Of course, their ultimate plan was for Jamila and the rest of the witches to arrive when the Battle was concluded. They will then arrive and eliminate the Morgs, taking the spoils for themselves.

They have thought long and hard about their plans. So by the Goddess of Witchcraft and Sorcery, if Martha should ruin it, they wouldn't mind burning her alive to soften their fury.

…

Leaving the elders, Martha headed to her sleeping quarters to rest up before leaving in the later part of the evening.

Public Buses

That was what she planned to use to get herself from one place to another. There were inter-town/city buses, and buses that take one out from one city to another under the protection of various guards.

Martha had to admit that Arcadina has grown far less dangerous than when she recalled stepping into it years back.

The highway roads were far safer, especially with military check-point station popping up along the longs stretches of road.

Do you know how massive Arcadina was? The entire It's landmass was the stretch of an entire Continent.

So one could travel for days and sometimes a week or weeks long at a steady pace without seeing sight of the nearest settlement. But ever since these check-points popped out, it made the roads far friendly to maneuver in.

From Gallaghan Town, the nearest settlement was 6 days from now, making bandits bubble with excitement with how much they can loot off.

"But now, 2 checkpoints have popped up on the path.

After traveling for 2 days, you see one, and after another 2 days, you see another.

The checkpoints after getting introduced, slowly began to grow to village size after smart merchants sensed an opportunity and rushed over to set up temporary stores and homes within the well-protected military styled checkpoint regions.

Now, travelers also stop by in these regions to purchase snacks and food for the rest of their journey.

Some buses also make some checkpoint areas their must-stop point to feed their horses and repair any damages to the buses.

Smithing shops, bakeries, and Stable Care shops, and even travel shops have already appeared in these areas.

Martha had a hunch that in future, these areas might also grow into small settlement areas.

With that, Martha was exempted from any work in the tavern, and had the entire day to plan for her departure.

In the meantime, another woman, a far younger one who looked no older than 25, also arrived before the elders.

"Otia… you will go visit our dear disasters in Baymard."

The lady called Otia, took the note, bowed after rising to her feet and slowly exited the room.

She of course knew that the sisters in Baymard the elders spoke of, were those in the Prison cells!

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