Hours later, recovered from my forays into the distant future, I, the lone ogre in town, make my way to The Wayward Oasis, a favorite watering hole for those with far too much coin and a desire for indulgence in all manner of pursuits. Beautiful men and women stand on balconies, their bodies exposed in precisely the best way to entice customers to come in and sample their wonders, for they are not so crass as to verbally invite people inside. No, this establishment is not so low class, for it is the finest establishment in World's End in the district intended for nightlife. Only the most desirable and skilled of individuals work here, for Tamadora herself handpicks each employee, often with Chooka's oversight, as Chooka has years of experience in finding the gems among the riff raff.

The facade of the building changes frequently in order to cater to special events. Only last week, it had been themed around a jungle and a tribal lifestyle, complete with exotic animals and the staff wearing costumes of primitive furs that hid little and promised a walk on the wild side for those with the right coin. Now, it has been changed to an altered version of remnimi traditional culture. While the kimonos and flowing robes of silk remained, along with elegant wooden architecture and furnishings, the twist had been in modernizing it, for certain definitions of "modernize". Neon colors and glowing clothing were all the rage, along with faux-technological gadgets that merely masked the enchantments that powered them. Colored visors over the eyes that were so reflective that the wearer's eyes could not be seen were the norm. If one looked closely, under the silken robes were black boots coated in metal studs, along with leather chokers likewise studded or otherwise garnished in metal both beautiful and harmful to anyone grabbing ahold of it.

In short, it was still a den of debauchery and civilized hedonism, just with a new coat of paint and dress code. My outfit had been picked out for me by Chooka, and I found it to be admittedly comfortable. The pants were spacious and obfuscated my true size, and the large, triangular shoulder pieces on my outer vest of sorts served to greatly emphasize my already large bulk. The colors were primarily orange, along with blue accents and a host of seemingly clashing splashes of other neon hues that only further served to draw attention in a tasteful way. In the mirror, I looked to be some sort of boss of the criminal element in his best getup, and perhaps that was the intent. Few, even those with courage bolstered by drinking their way to the bottom of their cups, would be so foolhardy as to anger an ogre. However, dressed as I am, complete with the visor to hide my eyes, fewer still would even dare to cross my path lest I find it to be an insult.

Additionally, I do not travel unarmed, and while I could secure my weapon away in a pocket dimension provided to me on an enchanted object given to me by my Emperor, the intimidation factor of having it inescapably present in the material world does wonders to keep the masses at bay. While reminiscent of a tetsubo, it being double-ended makes my weapon more of a quarterstaff, one made entirely of metal and absolutely capable of demolishing anything and anyone it hits. It also makes for a convenient backscratcher in a pinch. Each end also has ancient remnimi script, with one side reading as "Contest the Heavens", and the other end reading "Garner Enlightenment", so you know it has that handcrafted feel to it.

Dressed to impress and armed to the teeth, the short journey from my zen garden to the entertainment district and this very establishment had been peaceful. As an ogre, I stand half-again as tall as tall humans, and not even burly orcs can compare to my size. Little kobolds that barely come up to my knees had scurried about to clear the way, and, impressively, none had been trampled underfoot, despite how close they got and how clueless they may appear to be concerning their surroundings. No pickpockets had the opportunity to get in range of me, not that most of them could reach my pockets given my height. Nothing about my escort appeared official or held elements of ceremony, yet my arrival was anticipated as a host of attendants awaited me.

Without breaking stride, I entered through the main doorway and headed for my usual suite. The workers here had long since learned that the pleasures of the flesh in the form of carnal companionship mean nothing to me, as I, being an ogre, lack the anatomy for such indulgences. However, other members of staff with different skill sets hustled to attend to me.

In my personal suite, I quickly found my clothes removed as a hot spring awaited me. The water was at the perfect temperature, the oils and other lotions offering a soothing balm for my skin as the water vibrated to keep it mixed and to help it penetrate into me. There was no need to dry off, for as I stepped out of the hot spring, the water simply slid right off my body and back into the pool.

Next, a bit of pampering at the hands of my personal masseuse, Grosha Ko'ren, who is as large, muscular, and lean as a respectable orc lady should be. She is the only one here with the needed strength and mass to manhandle my body and to apply enough pressure to work out the stress in my muscles that are buried beneath my prodigious layers of fat. And my fat is not like that of other mortals, for it is thick and hard like armor, not jiggly and soft. She is still smaller than me, but she manages to ply her trade to my satisfaction as the next hour and a half passes under her ministration.

While I am in no rush, I find myself pleased for the focus of the night's indulgences. As an ogre, I love to eat, and as an ogre of taste and culture, I consider myself something of a gourmand. While Alterez is certainly a great cook, he lacks the skill set, Blessing, and disposition required for such fine dining. In truth, while I find many aspects of it sullied with behaviors that seem to serve no purpose other than to flex the chef's ego, I do delight in wonderful flavors and dishes that have some twist to them that make them fun to eat.

The chef tonight is new, at least in terms of serving me, and so I shall see if he is worth the hype. Servants attend to me to dress me, and once seated in a rather cushy chair built for my bulk, I ring a small bell to signal that I am prepared for aperitifs and appetizers. A truly good meal is made by a skilled chef, but a great meal is one shared with company. As a jab to the chef and my chosen person to join me for dinner, I have invited Alterez to my table. I wonder if the chef will sweat when trying to make courses for both myself and someone I could eat in a few bites, and so I intend to push some limits.

Graciously, Altrez arrives in short order, this time without his bimbos at his side, which he was all too proud to show off whenever half a chance had arisen. This was a dinner and a conversation for discerning gentlemen, and while I find no fault with one sex or another, the company Alterez keeps lacks the mental faculties to participate.

Alterez is dressed similarly, but his appearance is a little sleazy, like he will need to take a break halfway through to go bust some kneecaps and collect some money he is owed. It is more over-the-top, its colors more glaring, and his accessories and other accoutrements so prodigious and outlandish as to make even a poser blush. I heard him coming before I saw him, for his many golden chains rattled and jangled up a cacophony.

While I am not so cruel as to point out that his seat is a highchair, he has to climb a set of stairs just to get to his seat, so that we may both sit at the same table. His breathing is slightly labored as he wrangles his clothing into compliance to sit down in a way that would be comfortable without something prodding and poking him.

"Bit of a ridiculous theme tonight, but the youth seem to like it," he comments as he finishes situating himself. "I can't say I've ever seen something quite like this, but I have seen certain spins on remnimi traditional attire back in the day."

The goblin quickly downs his entire glass of wine in one go as a nearby kobold fans him to cool him down.

"I imagine you have seen much in your time, for you are far older than your appearance would suggest," I responded as I sip at my own drink, my comment meant to lead him to where I want this conversation to go.

"Oh, for sure. I've been around and I have learned things, or at least of things. Is there something particular you want to know, perhaps something that hits close to home?"

His grin stretches far too wide, enough to appear creepy and uncanny, but that is just how goblins are.

"To be more direct, I wish to know more about ogres. While I came into this world with knowledge, it does not include history or some more practical understanding of how ogre society would play out. The dungeon that spawned me was but a facsimile of ogre life, and so it offered little insight."

Stolen novel; please report.

"Fair enough, fair enough," my goblin compatriot replied good-naturedly as he accepted his small plate of appetizers. "Where should I begin? Let's see here, ogres started dying out around 600 years ago or so, by my reckoning." He paused for a while to enjoy his food, and in the spirit of fairness, he did not hide how pleased he appeared to be by its flavor. "This wasn't exactly a normal decline of a society, if one can call it that, but more of a punishment.

"You see, the gods sometimes banish races. Ogres of the time were too aggressive, too expansive, and too destructive to civilization. In practical terms, they killed more worshipers of the gods than they were worth, for they were not known for adhering to shrine day and paying their respects to the gods. It was bad for business, and so they were sealed away. It has happened to various races on and off since time immemorial. Your dungeon was a clear sign that, someday soon, ogres will be unsealed and recreated in the world at large, but perhaps they will be modified to be a little less… avaricious."

"And how could ogres pose such a threat? From my own experience, most ogres are very stupid." I was fairly confident that I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from a reputable source. Alterez was far from reputable, but he was alive at the time, so it would have to do.

"True, most ogres are stupid, but some are geniuses like you, even by the standards of other mortal races. They would lead in secret, each one trying to oust and kill the others, which only made them stronger and more cunning over time. But the dumb ones are big, strong, and exceptionally hardy. It would take a whole tribe of goblins to even kill one ogre, and ogres tend to arrive in large numbers. In terms of raw martial prowess, even though they are savage and unsophisticated, an ogre with a big club can still wreck a valiant knight sometimes.

"No, the real threat came in how fast ogres can reproduce. While all ogres appear as male, albeit without the jibbly bits," he states while making some crude gestures with his hands to emphasize what those bits are for, "They can quickly create more of themselves provided they have unlimited food. A grown ogre, after reproduction, needs maybe a week to fatten up to full size again. Then, about half a dozen fat ones come together, some simple magical ritual occurs that drains them of their excess body fat, and a new ogre spawns into existence, albeit smaller. Still, a new ogre is much larger than a human and fully capable of violence. With unlimited food, that ogre could reach full size in about a month, with another week on top to fatten up, and then that ogre too can start reproducing.

"Combine that with how ogres can eat pretty much any creature, even decaying or poisoned meat, with no qualms over cannibalism, and their numbers can swell in a matter of months. You send an army to defeat them, but you don't quite wipe them out, and you don't collect or burn the dead, and half a year later you have a whole horde of them on your doorstep. It wasn't that the ogres necessarily desired war, but they have no qualms about violence and it was a viable and effective method for them to acquire more food.

"While they lacked centralized leadership, there were countless rampaging hordes numbering in the hundreds or low thousands. No country was spared having to contest them. They survive just fine out in the wilderness where monsters spawn, and one warband would wander in to take over if you purged the last one. They just got out of hand, and the gods stepped in after enough people prayed for divine intervention."

All of this aligned with what I had believed and been told. Just to be certain, I split off a version of future-me to see if his story changed under torture. While future-me certainly committed terrible deeds upon my compatriot, breaking his body for answers, the response back was that Alterez had been honest and candid.

"I see. Wouldn't goblins be in much the same boat?"

"Oh for sure!" Alterez continued around a mouthful of food, taking a moment to wash it down before continuing. "We have probably been banished more than any other race. When you think of an easy enemy in low-difficulty dungeons, the go-to foe is a goblin. I think it was around 12 to 15 hundred years ago when we last came out of banishment. Modern goblins, while a nuisance, tend to not cause permanent harm or murder people, which does wonders to prevent us being culled and seems to be working to not get us banished again. So, I could see the next iteration of ogres being more civilization-friendly. I could also see them being mercenary tribes or perhaps living along the coast where there is more food. An ogre could totally hunt a walrus without issue, and those fat meatbags don't live inland."

His words make sense. Most humanoid races wouldn't find a walrus appetizing, as that would be a lot of blubber to chew through, but an ogre would have no such qualms. It also sounds like a great way to end up as a snack for a dragon, as such large creatures are known to hunt seals, sea lions, walruses, and the like. But, a loss of an ogre here or there would hardly change the primitive decision-making process of ogres.

It was all something to chew on, much like the finger food as the next appetizer. The chef even removed the fingernails and fried the fingertips extra crispy, just the way I like them. The bones are extra crunchy, and, unless my tastebuds deceive me, the chef injected the bone marrow with something to give it more umami.

Now, all this conversation, as one-sided as it may appear, was beyond wonderful. In truth, I used my vision of the future to have a dozen or so conversations with Alterez, covering a range of topics. This was simply the one I chose to actually occur, as having it created the best camaraderie between us. In truth, my primary focus lay elsewhere.

Every move I made since dinner started was perfectly calculated to send a signal to the awaiting staff. In the next room over, high-rollers were gambling with one game of chance or another. While staff did not actually communicate directly with me, there were pre-arranged messages and codewords that would trigger them to give me updates on what was happening.

You see, I am working for the house, and with an [Oracle] on the house's side, the house always wins. Some of the people that seemingly come in off the street are in cahoots, as they may phrase it, with the house, and they serve as my agents. I cultivate a delicate process of losing money to the whales that come in loaded with coin, all to embolden them. My own players come and go, with the final players being the best and charged with winning back all that was lost and then some.

I have prearranged signals that I use, those of riccen design. Perhaps I pour myself some more wine, with my third finger from the bottom not touching the glass. Furthermore, I pour with my hand tilted away from the center of my body. That combination means I am talking about the third person counter-clockwise from the dealer. With a napkin, I dab at the left corner of my mouth twice, then I place it down haphazardly instead of folded. That is to say that said individual should raise twice but ultimately fold if we are to optimize our gains.

My attending staff has riccen members, and they observe my signals and pass it along. This need only actually happen in reality when I want to send out signals, for I have many means at my disposal to receive information. I have a squad of killers and torturers on standby that could go in and learn secrets the hard way. I could walk over to that room and investigate it myself. I could use bribes, ply them with even more alcohol, use honeypots, or any other means of buttering them up to suss out what their limits and plans are. For while the house aims to earn wealth, it also wants intel, and with my help, many people here are unaware that they spill their secrets, as, barring loose lips, it only ever happens in hypothetical futures of my own creation.

And so the night goes on with pleasant conversation, fleecing customers for all they are worth, and bouts of hypothetical violence to friends and random people alike, as I can never be too careful. I do keep a lookout for opportunities, and a strange confluence of circumstances has mustered an interesting assembly of characters.

I see (in the very near future) Chooka in attendance, which is not rare, but she brought Serideth with her. The latter arrived here some weeks past to help out in the guildhall, and she seems to be far too shy to willingly come to such an establishment. As a separate party, I also see It-Has-Pockets, Blythnin, and Relarina Dawnflower in attendance. The futures of all of them are cloudy and uncertain, which has been a theme ever since The Devourers invaded our world. They have their own meddlers of the future, and they contest my means to view the futures around certain people.

However, I still know something of note will happen, which could be good or bad. Vague, I know, but certainly worth informing interested parties, such as the Emperor. I feel like he should handle this personally, and so I use my telepathy to dispatch a message to him. He responds favorably with affirmation that he will stop by, and so I focus my energies on monitoring the future to ensure that he will have a wonderful evening.

I had no way of knowing what a cascade of cause and effect that the night would entail. One thing would lead to another, and a nation would cease to exist, all as a consequence of my actions. Regrettable? Not really, for it all works out in the end. A slippery slope that could have ended in disaster? Absolutely. The whole affair would become a humbling lesson that the powers of divination have clear limits, and my own cleverness could not surmount every obstacle. The future was about to get a whole lot messier, and I have a front-row seat to watch it unfold.

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