"You walked up to me and demanded a gold bar without hesitation," Rore said, eyes sharp. "And judging from Karmel's presence and authority at the time, you really shouldn't have been so confident."
Alex was genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected Rore to be capable of such complex analysis. His expression froze for a moment, then he slowly began to speak.
"The reason I was confident I could sway Karmel's personal guards," he said, after thinking for a while, "was because…"
He paused again, searching for the right words to translate a proverb from his previous life into Westerosi common tongue.
"Because the people do not fear scarcity. They fear inequality."
"The people do not fear scarcity, but inequality?" Rore repeated, frowning slightly as he tried to grasp the meaning.
"Do you remember why I had you toss those 80 gold dragons over instead of handing them to me directly?" Alex followed up with a question.
"You didn't want to get too close, in case the mercenaries grew suspicious," Rore guessed.
Not a bad answer, Alex thought, but not quite the whole truth. So he continued:
"I wanted the mercenaries still loyal to Karmel to see it. I wanted them to watch their former comrades—those they now saw as traitors and cowards—dividing up the gold. I wanted them to see that glittering pile of wealth scattered across the ground."
"To Karmel's loyal men, the ones who had rallied around me were nothing more than turncoats. Scum."
"But those same 'scum'—the very people who, just moments ago, were no different from them—suddenly got their hands on a fortune. Eighty gold dragons! And they didn't fight for it, didn't bleed for it. All they did was take a few steps toward me, swear an oath, and that was it. No battles. No risk. No pain."
"They did nothing—and each walked away with more than ten gold dragons."
"And those who stayed loyal? Who clung to honor and duty? They got nothing."
Alex's voice hardened. "And I made sure they saw it. Made sure they watched as those 'traitors' shared the spoils. I didn't just want to break their will—I wanted to break their hearts."
Rore remained silent, but his expression betrayed his surprise.
"And once jealousy and regret had begun to eat away at them," Alex said more gently, "I struck again. I offered them another chance. Raised the reward from eighty to one hundred and fifty dragons. And on top of that—an opportunity to become knights."
He smiled slightly.
"That was the killing blow. Their last mental defenses shattered in an instant."
Rore stood still for a long time before finally bowing his head in genuine respect. "Thank you, my lord… for enlightening me."
Alex returned the gesture with a satisfied smile.
He had to admit—his speech sounded grand and sophisticated, but at the end of the day, it all boiled down to one thing: confidence from hindsight.
Because it had already worked. The plan had succeeded. So now, no matter what he said, it all sounded clever in retrospect.
As for that "confidence" in swaying Karmel's men?
What a joke.
He'd just tried it. That's all.
The only real confidence he'd had was in one thing: if the plan failed, he could run.
After all, Karmel had only five horses. Even if Alex turned and fled, at most Karmel could bring four men in pursuit.
And with Kess and Rore on his side?
Fifteen mercenaries might've been a challenge. But five?
No contest.
Those two were top-tier units—on par with the Warrior Sons or the Black Brothers from the Night's Watch. And sure enough, in the battle that followed, they'd taken down four mounted mercenaries—including Karmel himself—with ease.
Of course, none of that was anything he'd say to Rore.
That explanation just now? It wasn't really about being honest. It was about shaping his image in Rore's eyes.
Because Rore didn't act like a pre-programmed NPC. He felt more like a real person—capable of thinking, judging, and forming opinions. And for people like that, Alex couldn't just rely on system settings to maintain their loyalty.
He had to earn it.
Just then, Annie's voice rang out in his mind, breaking through his thoughts:
"Rewarded NPCs are designed for absolute loyalty," she said, contradicting Alex's theory.
"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow. "And how's that guaranteed?"
"All S-rank NPCs granted by the system were raised by the hosts from childhood as religious zealots. Their loyalty surpasses even that of the Unsullied."
"Raised by the hosts?" Alex's eyes narrowed. "That explains all those long-lost professions…"
"In their worldview," Annie continued, ignoring his interruption, "the players assigned to them are avatars of the gods they serve. That's why, despite being living, breathing individuals with unique backgrounds and experiences, these NPCs are unwavering in their obedience. They'll never question your actions—no matter how bizarre."
"So it's religious brainwashing to justify the competitive nature of the game?" Alex mused. "That way, the core NPCs never doubt the player's strange behavior or modern knowledge…"
"Still… why use natives at all? Wouldn't it be easier to just drop in androids with proper AIs?"
"Our laws forbid installing AIs in synthetic bodies," Annie replied. "Besides, using natives enhances players' sense of immersion."
"Immersion, huh…" Alex curled his lip in silent disbelief.
Yeah right. They were already in a real world. Who the hell needed more 'immersion'?
If immersion were the goal, wouldn't turning off the system interface be a better move?
No, Annie's earlier comment made more sense: AI in androids was illegal. That's probably why the game's organizers had to rely on brainwashed locals instead.
He'd long suspected that the "hosts" were a hyper-advanced civilization.
In any case, pondering all this served no real purpose.
What mattered more now was the fact that, after confirming the "religious zealot" nature of his S-rank followers, Alex no longer had to hide anything from them.
No more spinning lies to explain his identity. No need to justify future plans. No more worrying about loyalty drops.
How is this even fair? he thought, looking over at Rore and Kess.
How can an NPC reward possibly be this perfect?
His mood much improved, Alex turned toward his new subordinates.
"My lord, where are we headed next?" Rore finally spoke, seeing his master snap out of a thoughtful daze.
As for why Alex had frozen up just now?
Neither Rore nor Kess asked.
After all—weren't prophets always a bit strange?