Chapter 848

The name Bloodied Tongue was only a designation. Elizabeth knew that much. It wasn’t the organization’s true name.

As far as she knew, the organization had existed for thousands of years, yet it had never developed anything resembling a conventional hierarchy. There were no clearly defined ranks, no rigid internal structure, and almost no formal management. Its members governed themselves. So long as they kept the organization’s existence secret, they were essentially free to do whatever they pleased.

It was an absurdly loose structure.

Somehow, it had survived for thousands of years.

Elizabeth had never understood how.

The organization was also astonishingly widespread. Its members could be found almost everywhere in the world. If Elizabeth had to give it a simple description, she would call it the oldest think tank on Earth.

Every member was brilliant.

They studied everything from science to philosophy, and they had no qualms about immersing themselves in whatever religion or ideology happened to be useful to their goals. But none of those things were what they truly believed in. They were tools.

Their real talent lay elsewhere.

They were masters of rhetoric, deception, manipulation, and political strategy—the sort of people who could turn an argument into a weapon and a kingdom against itself.

During periods of peace, they tended to disappear into the background.

Whenever civilizations collapsed, dynasties changed, or the world descended into chaos, however, they emerged in force.

From the smallest city-state to the greatest empire, they had always been there.

And somehow, they were usually standing in the middle of the most interesting part.

The organization itself could be traced back to ancient Egypt, although almost nothing remained of what its earliest members had actually done there.

Its loose structure had one major advantage: it was extraordinarily inclusive.

Race didn’t matter.

Nationality didn’t matter.

Civilization didn’t matter.

It was almost as if the organization had never considered those divisions particularly important. They didn’t see the world as a collection of separate nations.

They saw it as one whole.

Its Western members had historically focused more heavily on academic traditions. Socrates, who was executed for impiety, had been one of them. So had Aristotle, the founder of the Peripatetic school and tutor to Alexander.

Both had been masters of logic and debate.

But the organization’s greatest members had largely emerged from the East.

And those people had taken the concept of the political manipulator to an entirely different level.

Their school had appeared even before Aristotle’s time, supposedly founded by a mysterious figure known only as the Ghost Master.

Its central philosophy was simple:

Words were hooks.

Arguments were snares.

You lured your opponent into accepting your premise, then tightened the trap around them before they even realized what had happened.

The disciples who followed that tradition had wandered through the ancient kingdoms of the East before unification, persuading rulers with nothing more than a silver tongue.

Sometimes they served enemies.

Sometimes allies.

Sometimes both.

They orchestrated alliances, broke them apart, encouraged distant powers to oppose nearby threats, and mastered the art of turning diplomacy itself into a battlefield.

Some had become legendary strategists.

Others had sacrificed themselves as spies.

One had even worn the seals of five kingdoms simultaneously, wielding enough political power to make rulers tremble.

History had been full of them.

And that was perhaps the strangest part.

They had never seemed interested in conquering the world.

They didn’t seek to establish their own kingdom, enthrone their own ruler, or transform their organization into a state religion.

Nor did personal wealth or power seem to explain their actions.

It was almost as though they viewed the world as a stage.

And they simply couldn’t stand watching the same dull play performed forever.

So they stepped onto the stage themselves.

They became kings, advisers, rebels, generals, traitors, heroes, and villains—not because they wanted the throne, but because they wanted the performance to become more interesting.

The only question was...

Who exactly were they performing for?

Was there even an audience?

One would think an organization that existed primarily to stir up trouble would have been destroyed long ago.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible.

They were too widespread.

Their members could be heroes or villains, loyalists or traitors. There was no simple way to divide them into good and evil.

For all anyone knew, the man helping you destroy the organization might secretly belong to it.

That was why the Ancient One had historically chosen to leave them alone.

She couldn’t exactly kill every eloquent person she met on the off chance they belonged to the group.

Besides, back when her own personality had been... considerably less stable, they’d even provided strategic guidance during the Jianlan conflict.

There were old debts between them.

Burning those bridges completely would have been rather awkward.

More importantly, the organization had never openly used supernatural power to interfere with the mundane world.

In fact, perhaps in an effort to keep their own "stage" orderly, they had even supported Kamar-Taj’s activities.

Professor Jamie Moriarty, who currently helped finance the London Sanctum, was one of their members.

The organization had earned the name Bloodied Tongue for a simple reason.

They achieved things with words.

And the things they achieved tended to leave a trail of blood behind them.

So when Elizabeth saw one of its members sitting quietly in this meeting room, she felt a chill run down her spine.

The world was changing again.

And apparently, the company’s plans had generated enough blood in the water to attract some very old sharks.

According to rumors, the organization had suddenly become extraordinarily active several months ago, around the same time Thor and the Dark Elves attacked New York.

The scale of that activity had been unprecedented.

It had even attracted the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Whether the world’s premier intelligence agency had simply misunderstood the situation, or whether someone inside S.H.I.E.L.D. had been feeding it false information, Elizabeth couldn’t say.

Either way, S.H.I.E.L.D. had completely missed the real target.

The organization’s attention was here.

In this meeting room.

On this company.

On the transition between the old world and the new.

Could there possibly be a more spectacular play?

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

The company’s plans were real.

Not only that, but even if obstacles appeared along the way, the Bloodied Tongue would apparently help remove them.

All to create the greatest upheaval humanity had ever seen.

Sure enough, the somewhat slick-looking Mr. Scott spoke almost immediately.

"In any case, we’re firmly in support of your plans. If you need strategic consultants, we’d be more than happy to help."

He smiled.

"We’d also like to invest in some of your publicly traded products. Preferably the ones with a short-term return. We’re getting rather eager to see our first dividends."

"Grand司命."

Franklin frowned.

"Is that really appropriate?"

Both the Tulzcha Cult and the Bloodied Tongue had similar traditions.

Neither organization was supposed to accept financial gifts.

Even when investments or monetary transactions were unavoidable for the sake of accomplishing a particular objective, profit was never supposed to be the motivation.

Yet Scott—who possessed considerable influence within the Bloodied Tongue and had been granted the honorary title of Grand司命—was behaving as though he might as well have passed around a collection plate.

Franklin couldn’t decide whether he was more disgusted or confused.

"I don’t need you telling me what to do," Scott muttered under his breath.

Members of the Bloodied Tongue tended to look down on similar organizations.

They considered themselves a cut above.

And there was a reason for that.

Their true faith belonged to one of the Three Pillars:

Nyarlathotep.

"The Tulzcha you’re waiting for is still somewhere in the depths of space," Scott said smugly. "Our boss is already here on Earth."

That was precisely why the Bloodied Tongue had become increasingly insufferable lately.

"So yes, we’re a little short on operating funds."

Franklin stared at him.

"Our boss developed a sudden interest in television."

"...Television?"

"Yeah. She decided she wanted to produce a show."

Scott’s expression became one of genuine suffering.

"Then she commissioned twenty seasons right out of the gate. Told us to figure out the budget ourselves. Apparently she wants some kind of historical romance western fantasy mystery magical family drama."

Franklin’s expression went blank.

"I see."

He nodded slowly.

"Her artistic vision... is clearly beyond the comprehension of ordinary men."

"You understand, our organization has never pursued wealth. After several thousand years of feeding everyone and keeping the lights on, there isn’t exactly much left in the treasury."

Scott sighed.

"How am I supposed not to worry?"

"May I ask a potentially foolish question?"

Mord Dupont hesitantly raised his hand.

"This interstellar colonization project... why are you approaching us instead of NASA?"

That was actually a very reasonable question.

The people in the room had, with considerable difficulty, accepted that the technology described by the Eredar twins was genuine.

But that only raised more questions.

If they truly possessed this level of aerospace technology, NASA would probably crawl across broken glass for the privilege of listening to them.

And if they needed money, why approach private financiers?

The U.S. government would probably be willing to redirect a portion of its military budget into the project.

So why them?

"Simple," Oleses said with a smile.

"Profit."

"If we work with NASA, this immediately becomes a government project. That creates a tremendous amount of political interference."

She gestured toward the presentation.

"For example, who owns the right to explore space? The United States landed on the Moon. Does that mean the Moon belongs to America?"

She spread her hands.

"I don’t recall foreigners needing to pay the United States whenever they look at the Moon. Nor do I remember them needing American visas before attempting to land there."

"If this becomes a national project, the United States will naturally attempt to control technology this advanced for its own interests. That means that if America begins exploring space, exploiting extraterrestrial resources, or establishing colonies, every other major nation will interfere."

"And that would severely disrupt our plans."

She paused.

"More importantly, we’d face a very difficult choice."

"We could make a great deal of money from the United States."

"But do we want to make money from one country..."

"Or from the entire world?"

"As a completely private company, we avoid that problem. We can offer our services anywhere. Anyone who can pay gets access."

Elizabeth hesitated.

She had almost nodded.

Then she reconsidered and shook her head.

"Our administrator isn’t stupid. He’ll understand exactly how valuable this technology is. To ensure humanity can explore space without triggering World War III, he’ll probably insist that the technology be shared."

"America might take a large cut in the process, but you’d still make plenty."

She leaned forward.

"And surely you aren’t na?ve enough to think you can keep technology like this without the protection of a major power."

"Having something valuable isn’t a crime."

Her expression hardened.

"But having something valuable without anyone powerful guarding it is an invitation to have it stolen."

"If there were only one country in the world, I’d be worried," Salorlas said casually.

"But there isn’t."

"There are many."

"If one country wants to take something from us, another will have an incentive to protect us."

"We simply balance them against one another."

Peibo frowned.

"That’s dancing on a knife’s edge."

"Can you really maintain that balance?"

She had a reason to ask.

When Tony Stark had first created the Iron Man armor, the U.S. government had immediately attempted to seize it.

"And what happens if the major powers suddenly decide to cooperate? What stops them from dividing you up and taking everything?"

Oleses smiled.

A cold, almost mischievous smile.

"If they aren’t idiots, they won’t make that mistake."

"First, you can only steal something that exists."

"Once our technology is complete, the five major powers will immediately receive service contracts."

"If they pay, we’ll provide our services without discrimination."

"If all five major powers benefit from the technology, then it won’t matter how loudly the rest of the world complains."

Elizabeth could already imagine it.

By that point, the five great powers would hardly care about their old grudges.

They had spent decades fighting over resources and territory.

Now they could reach Mars in a month.

An entire planet would be waiting for them.

Who would waste time fighting over Earth?

You five can settle your differences later.

We’re going to Mars.

Anyone who tries to interfere with humanity’s future gets nuked.

The old grudges would disappear remarkably quickly once there was an entire planet waiting to be divided.

"Second, we developed the technology ourselves."

Oleses continued.

"There is only one source."

"If they ever decide to take it by force, they’ll have to consider whether they want the next generation of technology."

"Today, we can travel to Mars and back in a month."

"Can we make that one week?"

She smiled.

"What about maintenance? Infrastructure? Technical support? Upgrades?"

"Would they really risk losing all of that?"

"Something they could obtain simply by paying us?"

"Would they rather start a war and end up with nothing?"

Peibo’s expression remained flat.

"That’s still an extremely delicate balance."

"Don’t underestimate us."

For the first time, the Eredar twins spoke simultaneously.

Their smiles were identical.

"We wouldn’t make a plan like this if we weren’t confident we could maintain that balance."

After all, managing a few nations wasn’t exactly unprecedented.

They had negotiated with entire planets before.

They had never failed.

Not until they had fallen headfirst into Azeroth.