Fayroll

Book Four

Gong and Chalice

Copyright © 2017 Litworld Ltd. (http://litworld.info)

All rights reserved.

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Contents:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Book recommendations:

Fayroll 5

Chapter One

In which the hero makes two decisions.

“What’s on your mind, friend?”

An older half-orc looked at me through one of the building’s windows. He was wearing a brightly colored coat and had a short sword hanging at his side.

“Just wondering if it would be a good idea to join the Free Companies,” I replied. “I’m not sure if I’m a good fit.”

“What are we talking through the window for?” The half-orc gestured me toward the door. “Come on in, son, and we can talk it out together.”

I walked in. If it has to do with the military, it really is all the same. The only difference between the building I was in and my old enlistment office was that there were large paintings on the walls in place of posters. But the idea was the same: faster, farther, higher.

“Welcome to the Wild Brigade Recruitment Center,” the half-orc said, walking out into the corridor. “It’s a great spot to find something worthwhile and interesting to keep you busy for a year, two, or even more, depending on the contract we sign. Fond memories and fascinating adventures are guaranteed.”

The half-orc walked over to me, his right foot dragging a little, and held out his hand.

“Sergeant Rourk, son. Free Company veteran. What’s your name?”

“Laird Hagen of Tronje, third son of my father.” I shook his hand.

“Third son.” The sergeant shook his head knowingly. “A blade, some clothes, and an old nag is all you got when your old man kicked the bucket, am I right? I’ve heard that story before. You were made for us, my friend. Consider yourself at home. A little service under your belt, and your oldest brother will have nothing on you. You’ll march back to your Tronje with money and loot, and all he’ll be able to do is gnaw his toenails in envy!”

He was overselling his case, I thought. Sure, his job was to get volunteers signed up, but the whole thing sounded too good to be true.

“That’s all well and good,” I replied, smiling at the sergeant, “but I still have some questions. I’d like to know what the conditions are—how much you pay, how it works, when I’d start, what I get besides the pay, and where I’d be serving.”

A hint of disappointment flashed across the sergeant’s eyes, presumably when he realized I wasn’t as easy a prospect as he first thought. Come on, his eyes said, why do these rednecks have to be so picky these days? Things aren’t the way they used to be, now that you have to explain the whole thing, show them, let them try it out…

“That is your legal right, son,” the half-orc said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Let’s head over to my office.”

Rourk walked toward the door he’d stepped out of. I heard his right leg scrape with each stride—a prosthetic limb. What a great advertisement for the Free Companies he is…

Once in the office, which was scantily furnished with a table, two chairs, and a lone wardrobe, Sergeant Rourk motioned toward a chair and jumped into his spiel about life in the Free Companies.

He was obviously painting a picture with brighter colors than he may have had license to use, but his story was interesting enough to see why the Free Companies weren’t such a bad place to be.

The Wild Brigade formed almost immediately after the gods left Fayroll. The problem was that many gods, in their feuding over the hearts and souls of their flocks, threw caution, morals, and ethics to the wind. They created and unleashed a variety of undead and other evil spirits into the world in order to weaken the forces commanded by their opponents.

The gods left Fayroll, though their malicious creations did not. And, given the fact that some of the gods both erroneously and presumptuously considered themselves more demiurges than gods, their creatures began to multiply. Some of them attained such numbers that the threat of genocide began to loom over the humanoid races.

That’s when the Fayroll rulers realized how bad things were and rallied all the heroes of Rattermark to come save them. However, the War of Magic and the Second War of Hatred had left the continent largely bereft of those heroes. The ones who remained were tired of wandering the lands saving people and simply dreamed of having their own little kingdom they could rule in peace.

As time went on, the situation only worsened. Roads become more and more dangerous, and villages and even small cities were subject to constant attacks by bloodthirsty beasts. But then, something unexpected happened.

Richard the Fifth, also called Richard the Spiritual, the ruler of the West, had an advisor by the name of Arman Plessy, and Arman came up with a plan. He drew up a decree, signed by the king, that declared even the most hardened criminals had the right to leniency under the law—including a reprieve from the executioner’s noose or axe—if they spent three years fighting to protect peaceful people by clearing the roads, forests, and swamps of the departed gods’ evil spawn. If they did their jobs well and honestly, a royal pardon, a plot of land, and a loan to develop it waited for them on the other side. Professional soldiers and royal veterans were put in charge of the rabble.

Strange as it may seem, the decree turned out to be hugely popular. Plenty of murderers and other societal cancers signed up for the adjustment squad (as the Wild Brigade was first called), and they fought fervently and diligently. Small groups of them traveled the West looking for and destroying the magic scourge born in the inhuman minds of NPCs and the imagination of the developers. They even dealt a blow to the vermin native to Fayroll, figuring sensibly that they’d have to take care of them sooner or later—so what did it matter?

Ten or fifteen years later, all the more exotic creatures living in the West had been dispatched to the next world, though the Wild Brigade stuck around. They were growing, and even swelling their ranks with people who had no criminal past. The Sultan of the East and the princes of the South happily paid the former thugs in gold to take care of their problems. The northerners, who all knew how to handle a weapon, took care of their problems themselves.

Adventurers, former soldiers, and even romantics signed on to serve in the Wild Brigade, as it had come to be known. The pay was good; recruits were taught how to fight well; and retirement meant honor and respect since city guards all around Rattermark hired veterans whose service time was up. Plus, while land was no longer part of the offer, the royal pardon was. The Wild Brigade remained under the jurisdiction of the king of the West, though it became, in practice, an independent unit paying 10% of each contract amount to the king. Recruits also began to be divided by how they signed up: new volunteers from the prisons were assigned to the Wild Brigade as usual, while civilians made their way to the Free Companies. The latter were still part of the Wild Brigade; they just enjoyed more privileges and a somewhat different status. There were ten Free Companies with 100 troops in each.

It was the Free Companies Sergeant Rourk was trying to get me to sign up for. He scraped his wooden leg around, waved his arms, and described all the tempting prospects I had to look forward to. In a year, not to mention three, the Free Companies would make me more a superhero than a man. He skipped over what their casualty rates were, obviously, but I couldn’t help but note that the companies always had slots open regardless of the fact that there were only 1,000 of them in total.

“I have a question,” I said.

The sergeant looked at me, amazed that I wasn’t racing to sign the contract after all the information he’d dumped on me.

“How do I sign on with a company heading down to fight in the South?”

“Why the South?” His look turned to confusion.

“Just a dream I’ve always had—seeing the South,” I said, rolling my eyes wistfully. “It’s warm, there are plenty of exotic fruits, and they say the girls are stunning.”

“All true,” the sergeant grunted. “Also, the beasts are poisonous, the jungles are impassable, there are lots of cursed areas, and the diseases are nasty. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Absolutely,” I replied resolutely. “It’s either the South or I won’t be signing anything. I have plenty of other things to do, needless to say. But let’s go back to those conditions, too. What are they?”

“We can send you south, that’s easy enough. The Seventh Company is heading to Dinjir the day after tomorrow, and I think they have slots open. But about the conditions… You get 50 gold per week, food, a uniform, a weapon if you don’t have one, and medicine or a funeral if you need it. One day off a week. If you sign a three-year contract, we pay out 500 gold as a bonus each year.”

“Sounds good. And what are the requirements?”

The half-orc glanced at me approvingly. “It’s simple; follow orders quickly, exactly, and on time. Do the work, and don’t be a coward in battle. That’s it.”

“Right, soldiers shouldn’t think too much; they have to fight,” I agreed. “So everyone’s heading south the day after tomorrow.”

Rourk nodded.

“One more question,” I said, having just about forgotten to ask it. “What about terminating contracts with the Free Companies? You know, if it just isn’t working out. Can you do that?”

“That doesn’t happen very often,” the sergeant said with a shrug, “though it does happen. The only way out of the Wild Brigade, of course, is to get dumped back in prison. You can buy your way out of the Free Companies, on the other hand, though it isn’t cheap. There’s a one-time fee of 50,000 gold.”

Fifty thousand gold? Well, that’s serious money, and it means I’d better give this some serious thought.

“What time are you rolling out the day after tomorrow?”

“Ten in the morning. But we’d have to sign the contract first, so come at least half an hour earlier.”

“Rourk, let’s say this,” I responded, pounding the table with my open palm. “If I decide to join, I’ll be here at nine the day after tomorrow. If I’m not here, that means I decided against it. Does that work for you?”

The half-orc nodded. “You’re obviously an experienced warrior,” he said flatteringly. “Of course, you need to think. This is the army, not a walk in the park.”

We got up and shook hands.

***

The smell of pies and something else delicious met me at home.

“What’s this for?” I asked Vika in surprise, finding her running around the kitchen covered in flour.

“Did you forget?” She stared at me reproachfully. “I told you on Tuesday that Elmira would be coming today. You’re the one who wanted to do this, after all.”

I searched my memory, but couldn’t come up with anything. She probably had told me, and I just hadn’t paid much attention. I did remember my suggestion to invite her over. But whatever, it doesn’t matter.

“Oh, right!” I smacked my forehead, not wanting to upset Vika. “I should probably go pick her up, right?”

“She’ll find her own way,” Vika responded peremptorily. “She’s a big girl.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie.” I had no desire to get in the middle of what was clearly a complex relationship. “What do you need me to do?”

“Stay out of my way. Here, grab a few pies and go relax in the other room.”

That was more than good enough for me, so I obeyed happily.

To be honest, I wasn’t a big fan of family get-togethers. Sure, it looked great in the movies when you had a huge family all drinking tea together, shooting the breeze, and sharing all their joys and sorrows with each other. That may have been common twenty or thirty years before and may still have gone on in some patriarchal corner of smaller cities, but not in the capital, with its high-speed way of life, disconnection, and drive to earn as much sweet moolah as you could while leaving as little as possible for everyone else. In that context, even family ties could hold you back.

Hunting alone, or at least in pairs, made survival a much better proposition. That was why even small families only got together for major holidays, and it was why family clans had all but disappeared. There were some families that stuck together, but that was just for Timur Kizyakov [1]and his umpteen years of dropping by strange homes. They only agreed to let him in because it was their one brief moment of televised fame. In my case, while I sort of knew my cousins, I had no idea who there was beyond them… It was nothing to be proud of—just a sign of the times.

Vika’s sister turned out to be an excellent young woman. She was attractive, had a decent sense of humor, and wasn’t nearly as obsessed with the game as I’d heard, at least judging by the fact that she didn’t mention it once. Fayroll didn’t even come up once in our conversation, save for a mention of where Vika and I worked. Elmira was happy to talk about her career as a teacher, and she enjoyed listening to and laughing at our journalism stories. (They were mostly mine, as Vika hadn’t been in the field long enough to build up a supply of her own. But I knew another year or two working with our three stooges, and especially Yushkov, would more than do the trick.) The only thing that surprised me was that she turned down all the alcohol I offered, and even quite sharply. Vika just nodded slightly when I looked at her in surprise. Am I missing something? Anyway, if she didn’t want any, she didn’t have to drink it.

“All right, I’m going to run,” Elmira said a few hours later. “My sister’s in good hands, so I can relax.”

“Oh, because you were just so worried!” Vika clapped her hands to her face. “You probably even stayed awake at night thinking about me.”

Elmira rolled her eyes in appreciation of her little sister’s attitude.

“You poor guy, Harriton. I put in my time, and now it’s your turn to live with her. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind before it’s too late? You could still tell her to take a hike,” she said to me.

“Oh, come on,” I smiled. “I’ve seen it all; you can’t scare me.”

“Are you sure?” Elmira squinted. “There’s always something.”

“Elmira, stop it,” Vika scowled. “You’ve been on me since we were kids.”

“Let me drive you home,” I said to Elmira, catching a note of frustration in Vika’s voice. It looked like she’d been on pins and needles all evening, and I’d caught her frowning once when her sister laughed uproariously at one of my stories. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was regretting taking me up on my offer to invite Elmira over.

“That would be great, especially since it looks like it’s raining,” Elmira replied, giving in without a fight.

Vika pursed her lips, though she didn’t say anything.

***

Elmira sat down in the back seat of the car, which did surprise me a little. I was about to go open the front door for her when she opened the back one and plopped herself down.

“I don’t like sitting up front,” she explained, “not since I was a kid.”

Fall that year was cold, with just a hint of an Indian summer; a few sunny days before we jumped back into the constant wind and rain. Sometimes, it was a drizzle; others, it was a downpour, but it felt like there was always something coming down. There were also the gray storm clouds hanging low over the earth and blocking out the sun.

“I’m so tired of those clouds,” Elmira said suddenly. “They’re the worst.”

“Agreed,” I responded. “I can’t remember the last time we saw the sun.”

“It isn’t just that there’s no sun. They’re always there hanging over you, it’s so depressing. And there aren’t any stars. Do you like looking at the stars?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It’s been a while. Too much to do, I guess.”

“Well, why don’t we go to the planetarium and check them out? It’s so romantic, taking a girl to the planetarium. Unusual. I mean, we could go to the movies, or maybe a museum—we could go see a mammoth tusk. But going to the planetarium is much more unusual.” There was a bitter irony in Elmira’s voice, though it morphed quickly into sarcasm.

The Army taught me to be ready for anything; my job taught me to think on my feet; and the previous few months had left me incapable of surprise—and that was a good thing. If things had been different, the steering wheel might have slipped out of my hands. I heard my own words thrown back at me largely unchanged from the way I’d said them to a certain neurotic woman a week before. And they say Moscow’s a big city…

I probably should have said something like, “Wait, that’s you!” or “Oh, my God, what a coincidence!” But that type of thing just happens in cheap romance novels.

“Mammoths definitely have their charms. The food at museums is better, too—they sell sodas and eclairs. I still remember that from school field trips.”

“Um, so the most important thing at museums is the food? That I did not know.”

“The food is always most important,” I noted instructively. “At museums, at the theater—especially if they’re showing a tragedy—and even at the circus. Not to mention the ballet and opera, since the food is the only thing that gets you through them.”

Elmira was silent for a second. I figured she probably wasn’t musing to herself about the finer points of food within the context of modern art; she was more likely working through what had just happened. She’d probably been expecting a different reaction and was trying to decide if she was wrong or if I was just stupid.

I thought to myself, as well, Really, the whole thing is funny; I’m sleeping with my clan leader’s sister. Though if I’d tried to explain the situation to a normal person who didn’t really know anything about life online, the only answer I probably would have gotten would have been, so what?

That was a pretty reasonable response, too. However, the fact that my clan leader had been going off the deep end meant that I had no idea what to expect, up to and including a pair of cuticle scissors in my neck…from the back seat.

“We’re here.” I rolled to a stop next to Elmira’s apartment building. “Vika told me how to get here.”

Her two hands snaked their way onto my shoulders. “You know what’s going on, Hagen,” she hissed in my ear. “You know who I am. Why, why do you need that kid? What does she have that I don’t? What do you want that I can’t give you? You’re lucky, you have the paper, and you have your connections—oh, I know you have connections. That idiot told me plenty without even realizing it. And I have my clan, my persistence… Just imagine what we could do together!”

“Elmira, you’re way too involved in the game.” I tried to pull her hands off me. “Look out the window. There’s a life out there, a real one, even if it is dark and gray right now. It’s not made out of code; people build it themselves. What do you want to do? And where?”

“This is life,” she continued, her hands reaching toward my throat and her lips touching my ear. She smelled like cherries. “You and me. We’ll be together in both worlds—forever. Do you really think all I’m good for is teaching nonsense to kids who don’t need it? No, I can do more, but I need someone to give me the strength for the leap, someone I can do it all for.”

“So what’s the problem?” I was starting to get worried. She wasn’t hysterical, but there was a fanaticism in her hiss. “Look at all the nice guys walking around out there. Pick any one of them.”

“Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand?” A power suddenly filled her arms. “What did you see in that idiot Vika? Why her? Sure, she’s my sister, and I probably even loved her at some point. But she’s trash. You just don’t know that yet or haven’t noticed. Maybe you don’t even want to see that she’s trash. All she has is her ambition and that pretty little face. But you’re not stupid—that I know for sure.”

I was finally able to wrench myself away from her, so I turned around in my seat. Elmira jumped back to the other side of the back seat, where she looked at me narrowly.

She really was beautiful in the twilight. Her eyes were blue and flashing with emotion, her face was delicate and pale, and her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked at me and waited for a response.

“We’re here,” I smiled. “I don’t think I’ll walk you up to your apartment. I wouldn’t want to give the neighbors a reason to gossip.”

It was quiet in the car. She was waiting for me to say something else, and I’d already decided that there was nothing else to talk about.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up with me? Positive? I’m offering myself. You’re welcome to come up right now,” she said calmly a minute later. “But I’ll never open the door to you again no matter what you say—that much I’ll tell you right now.”

“I’m sure that I have someone waiting for me at home,” I explained gently. “My girlfriend.”

The car door closed, and Elmira’s heels clicked away toward the building.

***

“Did you get her there all right?” Vika smiled, though it was a nervous smile.

“Of course, I dropped her off at the door. She asked me not to walk her up. Hey, I don’t know what you were going on about with her—she’s great.”

Vika’s lower lip trembled. “Honestly, she was completely unlike herself today, really fun. I didn’t recognize her. But all’s well that ends well. Don’t forget that we’re going to meet your parents next week.”

I sighed, already exhausted by the obstacle course. My parents were great people, though Vika had no idea what was waiting for her…

***

It was a normal, sunny morning in Fayroll. The breeze blew clouds across the sky, and the sun shone, as it always did in the North, somewhat weakly—almost as if it was forcing its way through some kind of fabric.

Rourk was smoking a pipe on the recruitment center porch. He waved when he saw me. “So you decided to go for it?” he bellowed grandly.

“Looks like it,” I replied. “But only if you guarantee me that I’ll be sent south.”

“A sergeant is only as good as his word,” the half-orc replied proudly. “You’ll be heading south all right. A few people will be coming over from the Seventh Company, actually, so let’s go sign that contract.”

“Sounds good to me,” I replied firmly. “For a year.”

He pulled a scroll out of the wardrobe and slid it toward me. “Just stick your finger here.” He pointed to a spot on the paper.

“Yeah, right,” I laughed. “Not without reading it first.”

The half-orc sniffed indignantly, though I ignored him and leisurely read through the document to make sure I would definitely be heading south. My old man always told me to read everything before I signed it to make sure I wasn’t signing a death warrant or a marriage certificate. And my old man wouldn’t lead me wrong.

“Everything looks good,” I told Rourk.

He snorted. What did you expect?

I imprinted my finger on the document.

Congratulations! You signed a contract with the Wild Brigade.

From this moment on, you serve in the Seventh Free Company of the Wild Brigade.

Your service will last one game year.

Service in the Free Companies can be terminated before the end of your service without penalties if you pay the Wild Brigade 50,000 gold coins.

If you desert (are absent from your company without good reason for more than seven calendar days in the game), you will be added to the brigade’s death list, with trackers sent to find and kill you throughout the rest of your term of service.

You must:

Participate in combat operations fought by the Free Companies

Submit to the commanders of the Free Companies and Wild Brigade

Take good care of the uniform and equipment given to you

Quickly and unquestioningly follow orders

You have the right to:

A portion of all trophies collected

Timely payment of the amount listed in your agreement

One day off per week

To be buried at the expense of the Wild Brigade if you die on the battlefield

When you log into the game, you will find yourself with your company or with its commander and the majority of its troops.

Joining the Wild Brigade earns you the following bonuses:

+3% experience earned

+7% ability to use edged weapons

+7% ability to use ranged weapons

+2% protection from cold

+2% protection from fire

+3% ability development speed

Title: Free Company Warrior

Successful service may result in additional bonuses being granted.

Growing prestige in the eyes of your comrades and commanders, as well as successful service, gives you a good chance of getting both usual and hidden quests. Strong prestige in the Free Companies also lets you call on comrades for help completing quests unrelated to the Wild Brigade.

So I was back in the army.

“What are you just standing there for, soldier?” Rourk yelled at me. “Get out there on the porch; your fellow soldiers are already waiting!”

The expression I saw in the sergeant’s eyes was one I hadn’t missed in all my years away from the Army, and it made me want to log out of the game—forever. But…

“Yes, sir, Sergeant,” I answered before hurrying out of the recruitment center.

Chapter Two

In which the hero remembers that all coins have two sides.

There were six of my future comrades tramping around the porch. Five of them were NPCs, though the sixth was just as much a player as I was. He was a Level 64 elf archer named Fattah, and I was surprised to see that he wasn’t in any of the clans.

“Hi, everyone!” I waved. “My name’s Hagen.”

The group answered discordantly as we greeted each other, sizing up the people we’d be slaughtering enemies with at the orders of our commanders.

“What brings you here?” Fattah walked over.

“Oh, just curious,” I replied nonchalantly. “I read on the forums about how you can get some nice hidden quests if you do the work.”

“It’s true,” he nodded. “There’s that, though I’m here for the abilities.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you serve for a year using your profile weapon, follow the rules, don’t get marked down, and fight well, the Wild Brigade commanders give you a class ability. You can’t learn it anywhere else, no matter how much you’re willing to pay—it’s completely unique. And if you serve two years, they give you another one.”

“But a year, that’s a long time.” I shook my head.

“How long is your contract for?”

“A year.”

“So what’s the problem? You can’t jump ship before then anyway—well, as long as you don’t get kicked out. Almost everyone does since a year really is a long time. Very few people make it all the way to the ability, but I will; I’m stubborn like that.”

“Respect,” I replied without a hint of a joke. “I’m just going to see what it’s like, and if I don’t like it, I’ll get out.”

Fattah looked at me in surprise. “What do you mean, get out? How? Are you some kind of underground millionaire or a politician’s kid? You have an extra 50,000 lying around?”

“If I have to, I can find it,” I assured him. “Or maybe I’ll just run off, so I don’t have to pay anything.”

“You can, but get used to dying,” Fattah said seriously. “The Wild Brigade doesn’t send rookie trackers after deserters; you’ll get professionals at Level 100 or higher. They’ll chase you down wherever you are, and you won’t get a warning before they finish you off. That’s it. They do that until you can buy them off, but that costs even more money.”

Sounds tricky, but what else is new? I decided to wait until I got to the South and go from there.

Soon, Rourk walked out onto the porch with an intense look on his face and looked us over.

“Everyone here? The list says there should be seven of you.”

We glanced around and confirmed that yes, naturally, there were seven of us.

“Then fall into line and jump into the portal I’m about to open one by one. And look at me—if you’re going to fight honorably, you can’t be hiding behind someone else’s back like a coward.”

The portal flashed, and we trooped our way through it. The North was behind me.

Wow, this is muggy, was my first thought when I walked out of the portal. After the crisp, cool northern air, the oppressive humidity and smell of decaying plants in the Southern atmosphere sent my mood spiraling downward in a hurry.

“Damn, it’s like a sauna,” muttered one of my companions, a big guy named Silv.

“What were you expecting?” Fattah noted philosophically. “This is the South, the subtropics.”

Silv didn’t look like he knew what the subtropics were, though he nodded his head in agreement.

“There are probably a ton of snakes around here,” a halfling named Moldo said warily. I wasn’t sure what could have brought him to the North, not to mention the recruitment center.

Nobody had the chance to respond. “Welcome to the heroic, legendary Seventh Free Company. Attention!” came a shrill, squeaky voice.

Two of my new comrades and I reacted instantly, our reflexes kicking in. The rest looked at each other, clearly not sure what to do.

The order had come from a small goblin, probably of the mountain variety. That deduction was a matter of simple logic—he spoke coherently and didn’t lick his lips when he looked at us. He was dressed in a sleeveless camouflaged shirt and matching hat. His mug, needless to say, was exactly as nasty-looking as one might expect, and he was standing next to a large orc in an oversized jacket. The latter looked at us appraisingly, his hands clasped behind his back.

“My gods, Falk,” the orc said a minute later to the goblin. “Look at the rabble joining the Free Companies these days. Sure, we had our bags of manure in the old days, but not like this.”

“Agree wholeheartedly, Master Grokkh,” the goblin replied subserviently. “Now, look at these wineskins full of all that—soft and wet.”

“And I have to fight with this crap. How? Do you know how I’m going to do that, Falk?”

“No idea, Master Grokkh. I don’t know what you can do with this mob, and I’m not sure how you’ll fight with them.”

None of us was stupid enough to open his mouth. We waited for the pair, of which the orc was clearly the commander, to make up their minds and determine our fate.

“Well, we’ll work with what they sent us,” concluded the orc with a final glance in our direction. His voice jumped a few decibels. “Listen up, warriors. I’m Lieutenant Grokkh of the Seventh Free Company. From this day on, I’m your commander, king, god, father, mother, grandfather, and everything else. You will address me using my rank: master lieutenant. And now, listen carefully to what I’m about to say, as I won’t be repeating it.”

The lieutenant didn’t tell us anything I didn’t already know. Everything he described over the next ten minutes I’d already heard back in my first week of service in the glorious and invincible Russian Army. The only difference was that we had a sergeant yelling at us then since our lieutenant didn’t bother with newcomers until they’d been there a couple weeks already. He was busy singing and dancing on a stage somewhere.

Everything was exactly the same. Orders aren’t to be questioned, and I’ll have both eyes on you. If something happens, well, you know. They were different realities, but the hemorrhoids they gave you were identical. At least I don’t have to think anymore—they’ll take care of that.

“Well, isn’t that a nice little sword.” The goblin stopped his self-important march directly in front of me. “You don’t want to give it to me, your best friend, do you?”

“Nope,” I said, pasting an enormous smile on my face. “It was a gift, and re-gifting isn’t polite.”

“Listen up, kid. I can make your life miserable around here,” he replied with a snarl.

“Then I’ll kill you.” I shrugged. “You’ll die, and I’ll just switch over from the Free Companies to the Wild Brigade.”

The orc caught a glimpse of the goblin’s narrowing eyes. “What’s going on over there, Falk?”

“Nothing, Master Lieutenant,” the latter replied, his glance following me. “Just having a word with this warrior over here. We’re going to be friends to the end; I can already tell.”

“You don’t have anything better to do?” The orc went back to yelling at us. “Any questions?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, taking two steps forward before yelling back. “Private Hagen, heroic and invincible Seventh Free Company.”

“Well done, very good,” the orc grinned. “You haven’t served before, have you?”

“I have indeed, Master Lieutenant. In the equally valiant and fearless royal companies of Fladridge.”

Wait a second, he might have been to Fladridge. Although, even if he has, he still wouldn’t know for sure that there’s no such thing.

“I haven’t heard of them, but their sergeants certainly know what they’re doing.” There was a note of approval in the master lieutenant’s bellow. “What’s your question, private?”

“When do we find out what the schedule for training and campaigns is, Master Lieutenant?” I yelled, my eyes popping out. “Just so we make sure we’re always on time. And avoid any other problems.”

“Good question. I’ll remember your name, son.”

“Thank you, Master Lieutenant,” I barked, spinning on my heel and marching back to my position in line.

“Remember, you beasts,” Grokkh said, his hands on his hips, “we launch campaigns at all hours of the day and night, and we rarely know where the next danger to civilians will appear. Your job is to remain always ready for anything.”

“Hey, the captain is coming,” squeaked Falk.

“Warriors, salute Captain Singkh!” snapped Grokkh, who also thrust out his barrel-like chest and came to attention.

“Forget it, no time for that right now,” a small and older warrior wearing silver chainmail replied with a wave of his hand. “What’s going on?”

Grokkh motioned at us with his chin, and the captain glanced in our direction.

“Ah, fresh meat. Good timing, too. There was a breakout from the jungle near Lanook—some treewalkers. Take fifty of your men along with these kids. If they live, they live. And if they don’t, well…the good villagers will take care of their graves. Much better than what we can offer. We’ll port out in five.”

Grokkh watched the captain walk away before going back to yelling at us. “That was Captain Singkh. He’s the only one who decides who lives and who dies around here, and his orders are God’s honest truth as far as you’re concerned. Our company got the order to prepare for battle, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Everyone to that building over there…march!”

“Seventh Company, form up!” the goblin’s squeaky voice piped up near a squat shanty that humans, elves, dwarves, and even a few cave people (I assumed that’s what they were, given their size and the lack of a better description) were pouring out of.

The whole mob lined up next to the building and looked at the lieutenant devotedly. “Okay, troops,” the orc started, hands behind his back. “We’re heading out for Lanook; they’re having problems with a treewalker outbreak. Corporals Raikh, Milkus, Troot, Naig, and Dro, your squads will be taking this one.”

“Master Lieutenant, I’m four short of my ten,” boomed a barbarian named Dro.

“I’m short as well,” an elf named Troot added.

“Agreed,” nodded Grokkh, “which is why the first four of these bodies will be joining you, Dro, and the rest you and your ears can take, Troot. By the way, there’s one who looks like he knows a thing or two, so use him well.”

The orc pointed at me, and I immediately assumed a valiant, oafish look to make sure I fit the part.

“Okay, so that’s one, but the rest are just sword grease,” the elf muttered in annoyance. “I only have one veteran left as it is, and with these…”

“Don’t argue with the master lieutenant,” snapped the goblin. “You’ll take what you're given; we don’t have crap else.”

I was convinced the elf should have boxed the goblin’s ears for that, but, to my surprise, he just sighed deeply and held his tongue.

“You have five minutes to gather, and then we’re porting out,” Grokkh said, holding up his hand before leaving.

“My three with me, let’s go,” ordered the elf.

Fattah, who was also assigned to the elf, the halfling Moldo, and I, ran after him.

“Stay away from the front; do your best to survive. If you live through your first battle, you might make it to the end of your contract. If not, well, you’re out of luck. Does everyone have a weapon? Excellent.”

Our corporal perked up at that last bit of news.

While the group got busy putting their cuirasses, pauldrons, and other equipment on, I quickly pulled up my map to see how close I was to my main target. The map showed me that I was smack dab in the middle of an enormous expanse titled the South. The red spot I was looking for was much farther east of where I was, and I had no shot at trekking my way through the jungle and savanna that lay in between it and me. Putting away my map, I started to think, and even rubbed my chin, when I got a hefty kick from the corporal.

“Warrior, you should have thought before you signed the contract. You don’t get to think now; your job is to fight.”

Five minutes later fifty soldiers were standing on the parade ground ready for battle.

“Go through the portal with your squad,” the goblin yelled. “Raikh’s squad, march!”

We tramped across the firm ground, equipment jangling, and the first squad dove into the blue portal. They were followed by the second and third squads, and then by us.

On the other side of the portal was a small village made up of straw houses. I’d seen something like them in Vietnam, where a group of us journalists had been sent three years before. Vietnam is no Ireland, and the diseases and snakes left most of my colleagues with no desire to make the trip. I, as usual, drew the short straw. Anyway, the huts there looked like what was right in front of me. The same could not be said of the locals themselves.

Some kind of shaggy creatures lived in the village. They had monkey-like faces, and they only came up to my waist. The little things were being slaughtered by black monsters reminiscent of short, gnarled trees with long arms and fiery eyes. The Raidion developers have to be smoking something. They just have to. There is no way a healthy person could imagine what I saw there. It was just a good thing the monsters were only Level 50…

“Raikh’s squad, you take the southern flank. We may push them that way, so have your troops ready,” we heard Grokkh call loudly. Oh, hey, he came with us? The respect I had for the lieutenant jumped. “Dro, you take the northern flank since you have all the new kids. Make sure they don’t circle around behind us—that’s a favorite trick of theirs. The rest of you, attack from the center in three wedges. Remember, take out their legs, since that’s their weakest part. And stay away from their fingers—if they latch onto you, they won’t be letting go.”

Now that’s a good commander right there. It was exactly what we needed to hear.

“Archers, drop back and cover us!” our corporal ordered. “Swordsmen, weapons at the ready. Move!”

All three squads started their advance at the same time, encircling the slaughter in front of us in a pincer movement. Leading the attack was Raikkh’s squad, which didn’t have any archers. It did, however, have unusually strong, well-armed troops representing the humanoid races.

It suddenly crossed my mind that I’d stopped differentiating between players and NPCs. We were in the middle of actual war—not a raid, not a dungeon, and not your usual sword fight. As far as I could tell, the mission we were on was nothing unusual for the Free Companies, just another day on the job. And that’s exactly how everyone around me approached it.

Our squad got to where the villagers were under attack, and our corporal, who was at the head of our wedge of seven warriors, quickly dove in and sliced the legs out from under the first treewalker in our path. It wobbled and fell, where Ur, a Northerner following behind Troot, buried his sword in its head.

“Stay on your toes!” yelled Troot, though he was just a tad late with his order.

A treewalker dashed over from the side, hooking his long fingers into Moldo’s shoulder and yanking him out of the formation.

Moldo screamed from fear just as much as from pain, and I dashed after him. An arrow, probably fired by Fattah, thudded into the treewalker, who was carrying Moldo along through the air. But there was nothing we could do; another of the black monsters came over and helped its friend tear the poor halfling’s body apart.

And this is supposed to be a game? I thought. How did they possibly get a license for something like that?

But I had no more time to think, as yet another arm snaked toward me. I threw up my shield, the wooden fingers sliding along it like fingernails on a chalkboard. Crouching slightly, I swung parallel to the ground and felt my blade meet and cut its way through my target.

The beast, its eyes flashing, toppled over, though its fingers reached for me as it did. A few jabs at its head finished it off.

The battle raged all around, though I could tell that we were winning. The remaining treewalkers turned tail and hopped off in the direction of the forest. Happy to see them go, the furry villagers let out a cry of relief, and a few minutes later the whole thing was over.

You unlocked Mercenary, Level 1.

To get it, participate in 49 more battles as a member of the Free Companies or Wild Brigade.

Reward:

+3% ability to use your main weapon

+10% respect in the eyes of your commander (isn’t lost if your commander is replaced)

To see similar messages, go to the Action section of the attribute window.

I didn’t expect an action, but they were always nice to have.

“Got it?” Fattah walked over.

I glanced up at him. “Yep. Hey, you know what I was wondering? If we were to die right here in this village as part of a mission, where would we respawn, and where would our things go?”

“You should really read a guide once in a while,” replied Fattah indignantly. “That’s one of the benefits you get with the Free Companies; when you die, you take your things back with you to the respawn, which is—”

“That much I know,” I interrupted him. “Where your unit is. So if everyone’s here, I’d respawn right back here?”

“Exactly. They put that in as compensation for all the downsides there are to joining the Free Companies—you may have come of your own free will, but this still really limits what you can do in the game. Just remember that only works for battles you’re fighting as part of and at the order of the Free Companies. If you just go jumping into something on your own, you’ll respawn back with your unit but without your things.”

Interesting. Still, not bad.

“Yeah, it’s pretty rough here.” Fattah slung his bow over his shoulder. “War.”

“Agreed,” I replied with a nod. “Apocalypse Now.”

“Well, warriors, everyone still alive?” Troot came over. “That little guy, they ripped him in half, right? That’s a shame; we’re back to being a man short.”

The elf walked quickly back to Grokkh and the other corporals.

“So this is our life now, day after day,” Fattah said thoughtfully. “For a year.”

“No, I definitely won’t make it that long,” I replied honestly. “I’ll get out sooner.”

“If you have the money, you might as well. I don’t, and I want that ability, so I’m going to put in my time.”

“What happens if I can’t log into the game? My clock will still keep ticking, right?”

“Yes, though there are lots of limitations. You’re fine if you miss a day, but two in a row means disciplinary measures and kissing the ability goodbye. You take a pay cut if you miss three to seven, and you get experience and ability penalties as well as the death list if you miss more than ten.”

There wasn’t much room to squeeze around that. If I’d read what people were writing, I might not have enlisted in the first place. Of course, I could find the money if I needed to—I had more than 20,000 as it was, and I could borrow the rest. The Witch wouldn’t turn me down, I figured, and I could ask Gedron as well. If worst came to worst, I could borrow from the Tearful Goddess Order at interest. Gunther, I knew, would introduce me to that Brother Yur. But there was no hurry. And that’s a lot of money to spend…

Battle results

Your participation amounted to 3.84% of the total.

Performance: 1 opponent killed

Reward:

76 gold

520 experience, of which:

200 is for the opponent you killed

320 is your bonus for the battle and victory

Points collected toward the hidden bonus: 2 of 1000

“Cool!” I blurted out.

“How much did you get?” Fattah asked.

“Not much gold, 520 experience. What’s the hidden bonus?”

“Oh, bro,” Fattah said, his eyes squinting, “you have no idea! Once you collect a thousand points, you can head to the Wild Brigade headquarters and open the trunk in the banner room for free. And there could be anything in there. I saw a guy once who pulled out a complete set—it wasn’t for his class, but it had all four items for the set together. True, you can get crap like a potion or hair coloring, but you’re more likely to get something good.”

Well, that’s a plus. I was getting double the usual experience, and if I really worked at it…

“Hey, just one thing—if you die in battle, the experience you got doesn’t count,” broke in Fattah.

I sighed. “That’s a shame.”

“I hear you. Okay, I’m going to go over and make an appearance with the commanders.”

Fattah walked away, leaving me to open my map and see where we were.

I’d gotten lucky; we were halfway across the South. I wasn’t any closer to my goal, but I could tell that a couple weeks of battles and campaigns would give me a decent shot at somewhere close to where I was going. Yeah, I think I’ll stick around to do some fighting. The experience was good, and things were lively enough. Of course, there was another thing I could tell would come in handy. Whatever the local green runt had planned for me, I didn’t think it would be that simple. To be more precise, it will probably be brutal.

Not everyone lived to see the end of the battle. Besides the poor halfling, another three warriors found their way to the afterlife, and I realized why Rourk made sure he sealed the deal with anyone who walked into the recruitment center. At the rate we were losing bodies, he had to—and I could only imagine he was getting some kickbacks as well.

“Okay, warriors!” yelled Falk’s shrill voice. “Let’s get ready to head back.”

The squads lined up next to each other, and I found myself behind a tall beanpole named Ur. Behind me was Fattah. We all stared at the lieutenant, who was discussing something with the local leader. He was just as shaggy as the rest of them, just with feathers around his head. While the leader was waving his arms around, he soon stopped, sighed deeply, and stabbed a finger at the parchment Grokkh was holding.

“What are they doing?” I asked Ur, gently poking him in the back.

Ur turned his head. “Ah, one of the newcomers. Their guy marked the paper to prove that we provided military aid. Now their prince owes us money to compensate for our losses and expenditures. We wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for that.”

So they keep track of the money, too.

“You did good work, by the way; I saw you,” continued Ur. “That wasn’t the first time you’ve used a sword, I imagine?”

“I’ve been around the block.” There was no sense hiding the truth. “You’re from the North?”

“Yep. I was born near a burg named Foyrin.”

“I know it, I was just there recently.”

“Seriously?” Ur perked up. “I haven’t been back in ten years, ever since I left to wander Fayroll. How are things there? Mind telling me when we get back?”

“Why not?”

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys,” Ur promised. “And I can tell you what to do around here to make sure things aren’t harder than they have to be.”

“Company, squad by squad, into the portal, march!” Grokkh yelled.

And off we walked into the portal.

Chapter Three

In which we find that some decisions are made for us.

Our ten-man squad (well, nine-man already, since Moldo had been sent on to NPC heaven without even a taste of all the benefits that come with military service) turned out to be a good one. Besides me, Fattah, and big Ur, we had Garron, a talkative southerner; Ping and Pong, two happy-go-lucky brothers from the East; two westerners, Mikos and Torn; and Lane, the latest in a long line of trackers from the Borderlands—an area that split East and West and was, judging by the one native I’d met, a fun place. Fattah and I were the only players in our motley band.

The guys showed us the barracks, which is what the squat buildings near the parade ground turned out to be. Inside, everything was spartan: double bunk beds and a few tables with bow-legged chairs around them.

“The main thing to remember, gentlemen,” Garron said from his bunk, “is to hold your sword tightly, keep a close eye on your friends’ backs, and follow the commander’s orders without question. If you do that, you’ll be fine. I’ve already been here more than a year, and I’m alive, my stomach is full, there’s money in my pocket, and I get drunk once a week. That’s all they allow.”

“Oh, and stay away from the louse with the ears,” Lane interjected slowly.

“Right, that’s important. Don’t get involved with Falk,” Garron added with a nod. “He’s a rat the likes of which you’d have to do some searching to find.”

I tensed up a little. “I already got involved with him.”

“Your first mistake,” Torn said from one of the top bunks. “Watch your back now. What did you guys talk about?”

“He liked the look of my sword,” I answered honestly. “The problem is that I like it, too.”

Ping whistled; Pong grinned.

“Should’ve just given it to him,” said Mikos, who was busy digging in a chest he’d pulled out from under his bed. “Your life’s going to be miserable until you do, and he might just try to kill you.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I was really starting to get nervous. A goblin-faced terror haunting my dreams was the last thing I needed.

The group jostled to tell me Falk’s unusually interesting, nay infamous, life story. He was, in fact, a mountain goblin. They were a quirky breed of villains that weren’t as easily distracted by shiny nothings or their empty stomachs. Of course, eating and thieving were part of who they were, but they also made for decent strategists, excellent spies, and the dirtiest operators in Fayroll.

Somehow—and probably through some sort of misunderstanding—this particular example saved Grokkh’s life ten years before, back when Grokkh was just a sergeant serving in the Ripa Mountains. The then-sergeant’s entire squad had been killed in an unsuccessful raid, and he was forced to drag himself through the snow to the nearest outpost. Why Falk decided to save him rather than bury him in an avalanche nobody knew. Ever since, the two had been inseparable, with the little green beast forgiven for any trouble he got into—and he got into a good bit of trouble.

“That’s why we try to keep our distance,” Mikos concluded sadly.

“If only he would keep his distance from us,” Ping chimed in with a smile.

“That he doesn’t want to do. Never has,” confirmed Pong.

It was a shame, but I was having a hard time picturing what the goblin could actually do to me, even if Grokkh had his back. He could spit at me, but I figured I could deal with that.

The group then informed us that there were three companies in Dinjir: the Third, our Seventh, and the Ninth. The Ninth was going through a rough patch, as they’d had their rears handed to them by nomads from the Sinrin Plains. Something spooked them, or maybe they’d had too much to drink—everyone knew how much the tribes like their fermented milk—either way, they’d climbed down off their camels and cornered the Ninth Company in a ravine. The battle was fierce; only about a seventh of ours survived, and the company was waiting for reinforcements. It was strange we’d been sent to the Seventh rather than to the Ninth.

Regardless, Garron was right; the service wasn’t bad, so long as you followed the rules and kept your head down. We were paid once every two weeks, there was one day off a week, and you could even use the squad’s stationary portal if you wanted to.

“What do you mean, stationary?” Fattah’s eyebrows shot up.

“Each area has a portal that’s always open and pointed toward the nearest capital,” explained Torn as he hung down from his bunk. “In our case, that’s Maykong, the capital of the South, stronghold of the principalities, and the residence of High Prince of Light Mustail the Second and the Beautiful.”

“I’ve seen him,” giggled Ping. “He’d make for a great boogeyman!”

“He really would!” his brother chimed in, laughing like someone was tickling him.

“Yeah, the prince really is, well, you know…” Mikos agreed more tactfully.

“And he’s just a nasty guy,” Lane said. “A real brute. There’s a snake out in the jungle called a ringhal—it’s beautiful, but if it bites you, just order yourself a casket right then and there. The prince is even worse.”

“Lane’s had his problems with Mustail,” Ping whispered loudly to us. Pong nodded as if to say that, yes, Lane obviously had plenty of problems with the ruler of the South, but the brothers weren’t going to say a word about them.

“And really just anyone can use the portal?” Fattah couldn’t care less what disagreements a hired sword might have with the Prince of Light.

“What do you mean, ‘just anyone?” Torn replied. “Only if you’re serving in the Free Companies, and you have to show your pass to the portal guard.”

I made a mental note—going to see the capital sounded like a good idea.

“Seventh Company, form up!” we heard the goblin squeal, and all of us ran toward the parade ground.

“You don’t get much peace and quiet in the Free Companies,” I said to Fattah once we’d gotten back from a small town besieged by repulsive crab-like creatures that walked on two legs for some reason. We had been sent with the Third Company to push them back into the jungle, and it hadn’t been easy.

“That’s for sure,” he agreed, pulling out a pipe and packing some tobacco into it. “On the other hand, we’re piling up experience. I leveled up.”

“Nice.” I winked at him wearily. “Okay, I’m headed home.”

“Yeah, our five hours is up.” The elf checked the timer on his interface before catching my questioning glance and rolling his eyes. Why does nobody ever read the guides? I could hear him thinking.

“If you don’t want reprimands and want to keep up your reputation with the commanders, you can’t just log into the game every day,” he explained. “You have to spend at least five hours in it. It doesn’t matter if you’re fighting or not, though you should serve out the five hours.”

You’re kidding me. I waved at him and the other warriors, who were getting ready to go to sleep, and logged out of the game.

The next three days were a blur of continuous fighting. We went back to the barracks, took half an hour to recover, and went right back out to save peaceable civilians under attack. There were new villages, towns, and even one new mine. Life was the clash of blades, yelled orders, and monsters, monsters, monsters—toothy, fanged, poisonous, scaled, in shells, with and without horns, gray and raspberry, and pink polka dots. Bosch and his imagination had nothing on the game artists.

I fought and attacked, advanced and fell back. My feet slipped on the slime left by crawling little nasties, and I tripped over the dead bodies of muscular gibbons wearing helmets.

My level jumped to 55, and one of my abilities leveled up as well.

I died a couple times, too. One of my deaths came at the worst possible time when a blade wielded by a one-eyed, bow-legged marauder found a crack in my armor right at the end of a battle I’d fought well in. The bonus I was looking for slipped through my fingers as Lane, who was everywhere, finished off the marauder.

Despite the loss, I was heartened by the fact that I didn’t lose any of the experience I’d previously built up when I died. That was a small compensation the developers had put in place to placate frustrated players. Also, dying on the field of battle meant you could have the company’s armorers fix everything up for you free of charge. So there was a little balance, at least.

A message popped up when I polished off a large turtle that came at us with surprising speed and agility for its kind. It and a few of its friends were trying to make off with a village’s children.  I couldn’t pronounce the name of the village.

You reached Bloodletting, Level 2

Gives you a 60% chance of causing bleeding

Bleeding damage done: 11 health per second for 1 minute

Activation cost: 50 mana

Recharge time: 1 minute

Good thing I didn’t go to work today. It was Wednesday, and I was supposed to have been working at the office, though I didn’t want to kick off my service in the company with a reprimand. The bosses wouldn’t mind, I figured, since I was getting a lot out of it—not the least of which was that I had unlocked all kinds of places on my map. Who knew which of them I might need later?

With that in mind, Vika was given complete authority and instructions to email me everything. That morning, I dug around in the material my team had gathered, approving some things, discarding others, and offering plenty of sage wisdom. Then, I dashed off to the barracks.

A quick check of my map told me that I was right on the money. The village we were at was just a two- or three-hour walk from the copse at the center of the red spot. The only problem was that I doubted I’d make it there alone, judging by everything I’d been in the middle of the past four days.

“What are you standing there for, beanpole?” Falk said, interrupting my reverie with his screeching voice. “There’s a general gathering everyone’s supposed to be at.”

The little bastard was doing his best to ruin my life, though most of his efforts were surreptitious. He was constantly telling Grokkh what a terrible soldier I was, he threw sharp jokes my way when we were at attention, and he even shoved me in the back once when our formation was advancing on a mop of fanged creatures with boar heads and crescent-shaped sabers. It was a miracle I was able to dodge one of those sabers aimed at my chest.

“I’m on my way; you don’t have to yell,” I muttered back, ignoring his whining about how disrespectful I was to a Free Company veteran, and heading over to my squad. We hadn’t gotten any replacements, though. Thank God, we hadn’t lost anyone, and so there were still nine of us.

“Thank Tekhosh, tomorrow’s our day off,” Lane said in his perpetually meandering voice as he pulled on his chainmail (from what I could tell, that was the only kind of armor anyone wore in the Borderlands).

“Hey, be careful talking about the Departed Gods like that,” Torn responded softly. “Especially the dark ones. It’s not forbidden, of course, but you should still watch it.”

“Only you all in the West think Tekhosh was a dark god,” Lane replied evenly. “In the Borderlands, we remember him differently. He taught us a lot and showed many of us the way. And what am I supposed to be afraid of? I don’t have anything left to lose. Everything I ever cared about burned up and scattered in the wind.”

Ping and Pong looked at him sympathetically and sniffed. The brothers were incredibly sentimental, though they worked wonders with the pair of curved sabers they each fought with.

I made a mental note to chat with Lane later, both about Tekhosh and to figure out why the warrior was so gloomy all the time. But that was for another time, and in the meantime, I had a different question.

“Day off? For everyone? Do I get one, too? I still haven’t served a full week.”

“Of course,” Torn replied patiently, only too happy to change the subject. “It doesn’t matter how long you’ve served. The company gets the day off, so you do, too.”

That put me in a great mood.

“Lane, where are you going to go?” Pong asked him.

“Yeah, going anywhere interesting?” Ping chimed in.

“Nowhere,” the tracker replied, his bed squeaking. “I don’t feel like dragging myself anywhere, and I don’t have money anyway.”

No money? That’s good.

“We’re headed to the capital,” Ping said proudly. “Time for some girls!”

“Exactly!” Pong followed suit. “Girls it is!”

Torn looked at them skeptically.

“Just don’t take all your gold with you this time. Otherwise, you’ll come back complaining about how someone got you drunk and robbed you blind again.”

“Nah, we won’t take all of it. Just a little, and that’s it,” Ping responded quickly. Pong nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere either,” boomed Ur. “I want some time to mope around here.”

The Northerner had spent the last three days squeezing me for all the information I had about his homeland, and I told him everything I could remember. His estimation of me had climbed steeply when he heard that I knew König Harald himself. True, when Ur left, Harald’s father was still in charge, though that didn’t change anything. When I told him how I saved the könig’s daughter, Ur stared at me with deep respect.

Afterward, I wished I hadn’t told him so much. It wasn’t even that I’d told Ur, who was a simple, direct fellow; toward the end, I realized that Fattah had been listening carefully the whole time. And I didn’t like curious, shrewd players. Maybe because that’s the kind of player I am? I hadn’t spilled the beans on any secrets, but still…

“What about you?” I asked Torn.

“I’m heading to Maykong, as well, with Mikos and Garron. I need to drop by the bank to drop off my gold, and I could go for some beer, too.”

Fattah stretched. “I’ll come with you then,” he said to Torn. “I haven’t been to Maykong, and they say it’s beautiful. Are you coming?”

He looked at me.

“No,” I replied, waving them off. “I need a break from all these battles. Plus, you’ll probably be taking off in the morning, and I want to sleep in.”

“True,” confirmed Torn. “We’re leaving around nine.”

The right thing to do would have been to go with the company on Thursday, but I couldn’t completely give up on the paper. I was also tired of all the slaughter, and Vika had told me that Zimin called. When she told him I was in the game, he gave her a quick “all righty then” and hung up.

That had me a little nervous, and I went back and forth between calling him and pretending Vika hadn’t said anything. I decided to go with the latter option since Zimin hadn’t actually given Vika any instructions. My mind more or less at ease, I went to sleep.

***

The next day, when I walked into our wing of the office, the smell of alcohol was nearly overpowering. I carefully studied Yushkov’s face, which had gone from his normally pale pink color to a burgundy scarlet. It had nothing to do with embarrassment, either; he’d been hitting the bottle pretty hard.

“Vadim,” I told him, “you need to stop that. You can’t out drink them over there in the sports section. They’re the best in Moscow and the entire region, with years of practice and competition behind them. You can’t keep up.”

“Yes, I can,” he muttered guiltily. “I certainly did yesterday. The vodka probably wasn’t good, that’s all.”

He took a tuft of black hair hanging over his forehead in his fingers and started playing with it.

“That’s not an argument. I’m serious, if you don’t stop drinking, I’ll have to fire you. Vika!” I barked.

Vika ran over and stood there blinking, doing her best to seem dumber than she actually was.

“This is on you, Vika,” I said to her harshly, a finger jabbing in Yushkov’s direction. “The guy’s turning into a hardcore alcoholic, and you’re letting it go without telling me anything. Why is that?”

“I’ve told him,” Vika replied, her eyes on the floor, “probably a hundred times.”

“She has,” Yushkov confirmed magnanimously. “At least a hundred times.”

“It’s like Ping and Pong in here,” I exclaimed, starting to get frustrated.

“What ping-pong? Again with the ping-pong!” Yushkov looked at me worriedly. “We weren’t the ones who broke the table in the rec room; I told Mammoth that. We were hanging out at Bavaria that night!”

This is ridiculous. He’s even breaking company property now.

“Zimin is here!” Zhanna, Mammoth’s secretary, flew in. “He’s on his way here!”

“Damn it!” I blurted out. “Just what we need. Gennady,” I continued, looking at Stroynikov.

He ran over.

“Open the windows, stuff this one in the far corner, cover the table in folders, and stick some gum in his mouth. Vika, Samoshnikov, look busy. I’ll go buy us a couple minutes.”

It was a good thing we worked in an old building. The corridors were long and wide. I met Zimin as far away from our space as I dared.

“Maxim, what are you doing here?” I tried to look as pleasantly surprised as I could. “Don’t you have meetings every Thursday morning?”

“The old man is away, and we don’t have meetings without him,” Zimin informed me glumly. “And Kit went with him.”

Ah-ha, so that’s why he’s in a lousy mood. Kit was off with the top dog, and he was left alone. It looked like I was screwed.

“Some tea maybe?” I asked, as sincerely as I possibly could. “Like my grandfather always said, there’s no end to the good a nice cup of tea will do you.”

“Your grandfather?” Zimin looked at me, a thought flashing across his face. “That’s good. But I’ll do without the tea. We have to talk.”

“Your call.” I quickly switched to a more business-like tone. “Shall we step into my office?”

Good thing I didn’t just kick everyone out. It was chilly in the office, though the smell of alcohol was almost gone at least. We could see the crown of Yushkov’s head, and everyone else scurried around in a buzz of feigned activity.

Zimin greeted everyone with a nod as he walked into my office. I winked at Vika and followed him.

“Okay, Kif,” he said, sitting down at my desk and staring at me. “You disappointed me, and pretty seriously, too.”

I was taken aback. Wait, I did? I’m doing the quest, we’re publishing the paper… Could it be that I wasn’t in the office yesterday? No, that shouldn’t be it, since the dryad quest is more important than the paper. The Free Companies? Doubtful…

“Not sure what I’m talking about?” Zimin narrowed his eyes, which remained fixed on me.

“Nope.” I sat up and met his gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me who was with you in the Great Fomor’s palace? You didn’t think I should know that another player took part in the event?”

Oh, damn. It was true—the whole thing had slipped my mind, and I’d neglected to tell the boss who’d helped me take out the witch.

“I forgot,” I told Zimin in all honesty. “I really did. Well, it’s more that I didn’t even think about it, I’ll admit.”

“He forgot,” muttered Zimin. “You know, I can’t just follow you everywhere you go. You forgot, and I didn’t find out right away…”

“But what’s the problem? He doesn’t have anything to do with Fomor,” I said in surprise. “All he wanted was the witch. He was there with a pair of NPCs—Gorrdy, and I don’t remember the name of the second one.”

“Grim Gram.” Zimin’s fingers drummed on the table. “One more character unaccounted for.”

Well, that’s interesting. I never would have thought an NPC could be unaccounted for.

“Ah,” Zimin sighed. “I should smack you upside the head, so you start thinking, but I won’t. For some reason, I really like you. And you can think when you want to—nice work figuring out how to get to the South. But you’d better keep me in the loop from now on, got it?”

“You can be sure I will,” I assured him. “It won’t happen again. You can count on me.”

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose. If I thought you had, I wouldn’t be the one having this conversation with you, and it wouldn’t be happening here.” Zimin’s face curved into a smile.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know where his colleagues would have been having that nice little chat with me.

“There is one thing you should know,” I said confidentially. “Someone else found out what I do. I mean, here at the paper. Someone in the game.”

“What a day,” Zimin complained. “Who? And how?”

“You won’t believe it, but my clan leader, Elina the Wise. It’s crazy, but she’s actually Vika’s sister in real life.” My eyes bulged. “She recognized me when we had her over for dinner—I didn’t change how I look for the game. Coincidences happen, I guess, not much you can do there.”

“Not like that they don’t,” Zimin replied, his eyes squinting. “I know that much for sure. It shouldn’t be a problem, though we’ll have to visit her and see if she actually is as wise as her name says—in the game, obviously.”

I surmised that the concern I had for Elmira’s health and well-being must have flashed across my face, causing him to add that last bit.

“It would have been nice if you’d changed the way you look in the game, but it’s too late for that. You are who you are.”

“Agreed,” I nodded. “The knights know me, I have my reputation in the North…plus, I’m used to how I look.”

“Okay,” Zimin said, standing up. “I’m off. You can let your team know they’re getting paid today. I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear that.”

“That’s great!” I rubbed my hands together.

“Oh, come on,” Zimin grunted. “You just got enough from our bet to last you to winter. Ah, that reminds me… Marina asks me about you all the time.”

“What Marina?”

“Vezhleva. Come on, Kif!” He shook a finger at me. “All these girls are going to be the death of you. But you know what I was thinking, you should invite her to dinner. Next Wednesday would be perfect.”

“Wait, but…” I held out my arms as if to remind him that I had Vika, the paper…

“I’m not saying you should sleep with her; just have dinner,” Zimin explained gently. “Today, I’ll tell her… Wait, why me? Just call her and invite her to dinner on Wednesday around seven at Bacchus’ Barrel. We have our own area there already paid for, so you can sit, eat, talk… Wednesday morning, I’ll tell you what you should talk about. Sound good? Here, I just so happen to have her card in my pocket.”

“Spend time with a beautiful woman in an expensive restaurant on the company’s dime?” I grinned, taking the gold-colored rectangle with its attractive font from him. “Why not?”

“Excellent.” Zimin patted my shoulder. “Okay, I’m off. No need to walk me to the door.”

From the sixth edition of the Fayroll Times:

From the editor.

…and that’s exactly what we’ll strive to do. We want reading the paper to be as useful as it is interesting, since…

Alchemy: Tough, But Worth It

…but the hardest part isn’t getting the recipe, boosting skills, or locating an instructor. The hardest part is finding the chemical agents and, in particular, complex potions and powders…

Excerpts from the Fayroll Chronicle:

The Eyes of the Beast clan was disbanded. Its unsuccessful attempts to destroy Klatornakh led to a crisis of confidence in clan leadership on the part of its membership.

The You Respect Me, Right? And Children of the Caucasus clans will be holding their third annual young wine festival. As usual, it is being held in autumn, as the leaders claim it to be a sad time of year when people need a little cheering up.

Some new players visited a forest in Noobland, though their trip ended in mass panic. Their efforts to cut themselves clubs were met by an incredibly aggressive NPC. According to one witness, “Damn, he just went crazy on us. But that’s not the worst part. He wasn’t just a forester; it was Leo Tolstoy himself!” The game admin is reviewing the safeguards in place to keep players from logging into the game with alcohol or narcotics in their blood.

In the next edition:

Personal Transport: Expensive, But Oh, So Convenient

Chapter Four

In which the hero realizes that time is running short.

Some people hate making calls to anyone they don’t know or don’t know very well. They tense up, going over what they want to say in their head a hundred times, putting off making the call, and completely forgetting that on the other end of the line will most likely be someone just as sane and friendly as they are. At least, that’s often the case.

Thank God, that doesn’t describe me in the least. It would be strange if it did, given my profession. When it comes to chatting with women on the phone, I’m with the unforgettable Ostap Bender in that I prefer improvisation and inspiration. What’s the point of preparing for a talk with women? They’re too unpredictable and incomprehensible for that.

“Hi, Marina?” I didn’t want my tone to be too forward, though it needed to have some play to it. We weren’t good enough friends to add an intimate flair, though one of us owed the other, and, I hoped, that person hadn’t forgotten.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor, with the lance that brought me good luck,” she replied, her voice more than playful and, yes, letting me know that she remembered. “My” knight. That’s a good sign.

“I don’t know about a knight.” It was time to break out the jokes. “More Sancho Panza with the valiant von Richter.”

She giggled again. “Oh, aren’t you modest.” She’s keeping track of me if she knows who von Richter is. Although she could just be remembering him from the massacre on the beach—it’s hard to forget things like that. “So, how can this shy little virgin help the favorite of the gods?”

I had the feeling that if she and I ever got together, God forbid, I’d have to keep a close eye on all my body parts. Vika would have to take a trip somewhere on the other side of the Urals, too, since Marina would chew her up and spit her out if she sensed the least bit of competition. Marina was too smart by half and dangerous.

“Well, here’s the thing, I can’t eat or sleep,” I replied, my voice aged and cracked like Baba Yaga from any of the old movies.

“I didn’t offend you, did I?” Her crystal laughter floated into my ear once more.

“Not yet,” I said, this time respectfully and in my normal voice. “But you will if you turn down my dinner invitation.”

“That would bother you?”

“I’d never get over it.”

“Well, we can’t have that. Where are we going? You can forget about chebureki[2].” She sounded prissy and spoiled, and hearing her say the word “chebureki” in that voice made me chuckle. Vezhleva was obviously testing me.

“Chebureki? You think I have that kind of money? No, we’re going out for pelmeni—much cheaper than chebureki.”

“Ah, then my stomach should be fine. And if you buy me a cup of coffee with condensed milk, it’ll really make my week.”

“Coffee? Hmm…” I sat silently for a second before jingling a few coins I hurriedly pulled out of my pocket. “Well, I guess we can do that. Next Wednesday I’ll pick you up in front of your office. Let’s say, around seven.”

“I hope you have a strong bike. Will it hold both of us?” The concern in Marina’s voice was so sincere that it took me aback.

“I’ll pump up the tires and check the frame,” I assured her.

“Then I’ll see you next Wednesday. Are you sure I’ll recognize you?”

“I’ll be the one wearing felt boots and holding a flower.”

She hung up. Ah, that’s no woman. She’s suicide, an extreme sport, and the fondest dream of any pimply high school senior all wrapped up in one. Smart, beautiful, experienced, successful, and dangerous—though she was dangerous first and foremost.

“I’m not a big fan of pelmeni; they wreak havoc on your figure. And I haven’t seen any felt boots at home, so you should probably go buy some,” I heard a voice behind me say. Turning, I saw a pale Vika with resolutely pursed lips.

“I don’t like them either—for a while now, in fact,” I assured her. “I’ve had more than enough in the past few years to never touch them again.”

“But you’re going out for some with somebody next Wednesday, no?”

“Come on, we were teasing each other. There won’t be any pelmeni, obviously.”

“And dinner? You were setting something up.”

“Of course there will be a dinner,” I replied openly. “Vika, let’s say this—I’m not going to hide the fact that I may go out from time to time with different people, including women. But you need to understand that there’s a difference between going out for a business dinner and living together—a big difference, in fact. Yes, Vezhleva and I are having dinner together, but it’s just a dinner. Let’s agree right now that we’re always going to trust each other. Otherwise, things will turn ugly. And I definitely don’t need that. I’m surprised I have to explain this to you, in fact, seeing as how you’re a grown woman.”

Vika nodded and walked out of my office. Her self-control was on point, I should add. Not a word was said the whole way home, and nothing else was added at home either. Maybe she really doesn’t care about the whole thing? Or maybe she understood me, and we’re done with it?

***

I couldn’t help but note that logging into the game always meant leaving real-world problems behind me. The whole thing was intriguing—was it the developers playing with my psyche or was it my reflexes automatically switching over to whichever problems were most relevant to where I currently was?

There was no way of knowing for sure. One thing was true, as soon as I found myself on the parade ground, all thoughts of glum Vika (who’d run off to work before the break of dawn with suspiciously red eye makeup), Vezhleva (a woman with grace, beauty, and the disposition of a viper), and Zimin (complete with his own set of problems) flew out of my head. Instead, all I could think about was that I’d be finding out what my last quest was that day. At least, I hope it’s the last one.

The barracks were just as empty as I’d hoped. Lane lay on his cot, and Ur sharpened his large battle axe, but there was no one else there.

“Hi, guys,” I said with a wave. “Bored?”

“Hey!” Ur looked at me with his child-like smile. “What’s there to do? I don’t have any money since I spent it all on girls last time. I even had to borrow from Torn, so I’ll be paying him back in two weeks.”

Lane didn’t say anything.

“Well, guys, I have a way for you to make some money,” I said insinuatingly.

“What’s up?” Lane asked. Ur put his axe down.

“Nothing much, although there’s definitely some risk. But before I tell you, this needs to stay between us.”

“You’re in luck.” Lane jumped down from his bunk. “We’re the two least-talkative people in the squad. Out with it.”

“Remember that village we protected from the turtles yesterday? The ones that ran like horses?”

“Of course,” replied Lane.

“Two or three hours from there is a grove with incredibly beautiful flowers. I want to pick some.”

Ur blinked, trying to figure out what use I could possibly have for flowers, and especially flowers from that particular grove. Lane squinted at me thoughtfully.

“Flowers, you say,” he replied slowly. “And why from there?”

“Just on a whim. The flowers there are completely unique, and I want to give some to this one girl I like.”

Lane didn’t believe a word I said, and I could see him trying to figure out if he should tell me to screw myself or hear me out. I, obviously, knew the whole thing was nonsense, though I also knew the pair needed a formal reason to take money from me. And why not that one?

“I’ll give you 600 gold each,” I said quickly.

“Six hundred?” boomed Ur. “Lane, who cares why he needs the flowers? It’s only 10, and we’ll have time to get to Maykong for drinks and girls after we get back.”

“I’ll even give you a portal scroll,” I said, pushing them hard. “Once we get to the grove, you can use it to get to Maykong.”

“You’re not telling the whole story, my friend,” Lane said with a crooked smile. “But we don’t pry into other people’s secrets in the Borderlands, especially when those people pay well. So I don’t really care. If you’re really willing to pay us that much, I’m in.”

“Me, too.” Ur got up from his chair. “No questions asked.”

“Speaking of questions, I have a big favor to ask,” I continued, taking them by the shoulders. “Nobody can know where we’re going or why we’re going there. Let’s just say that we never went anywhere in the first place. If people ask about the money, just say you borrowed it from me. And tell me if anyone starts asking questions, please. Okay?”

Lane nodded; Ur grunted. The pair started hurriedly getting ready, pulling on equipment and tightening belts.

“Do you know how to get there?” Lane asked me incidentally.

“I know the direction. Have you been in that area?”

“It’s all the same around here. Jungles, savanna, snakes, crocodiles,” Lane observed complacently as he made sure his sword was in its sheath. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”

“If there’s anyone who can get you there, it’s him,” Ur assured me. “Lane’s a tracker, one of the best. He can sense enemies and danger from a mile away. They’re all like that in the Borderlands, but even there, he’s special. And that makes sense, since—”

“Ur, do you have your knife?” Lane interrupted him.

Ur stopped short, looking at Lane guiltily before going back to checking the weapons in his belt.

Hmm, who is Lane?

“We’re ready.” Lane wasn’t about to comment on what the Northerner said, preferring to pretend that he hadn’t said anything at all. “But I’d rather see the money up front. If you’re killed—and death in the jungle is lightning-fast and unpredictable—we won’t get anything, which wouldn’t be fair. If we’re killed, you can just take it back, and I don’t imagine we’ll mind.”

I nodded and pulled the gold out of my bag.

***

Life was peaceful in the village, and nobody paid us any attention. When they were in trouble, certainly, they were the first to ask us for help, but they couldn’t be bothered to give us so much as a drink of water when everything was calm.

“Where to?” asked Lane, all business.

I pulled up my map and pointed west.

“Follow me. You don’t have to be right on top of me, but don’t fall too far behind. If I put my hand up, stop; when I drop it, we move on.” Lane gave his orders with the voice of someone used to being obeyed without question or complaint. Ur and I listened and nodded. “Every ten minutes we’ll check to make sure we’re going in the right direction; I don’t want to waste any time. And if we have to cross swords with someone, well, that’s what we’ll do. All right, let’s move.”

Lane slipped into the wall of leaves.

“There’s a tracker for you,” Ur boomed in respect before following him in. I took a deep breath and quickly jumped in behind them—it looked incredibly easy to lose the nimble Lane in the web of vines and bushes.

To be honest, I didn’t like the South. As I walked behind Ur’s broad shoulders, I wistfully recalled the hills and plains of the North, its grayish-blue skies, and the waves washing in from the cold sea. I got so lost in my thoughts that I missed Lane raising his hand and walked smack into Ur, banging my nose on his cuirass.

“Sh-h.” Lane glared at me, motioning me closer.

Treading as silently as I could, I sidled up to him and whispered cautiously.

“What?”

Lane nodded to the left without saying a word. I looked in that direction. There was a path a dozen steps away from us, and along it walked a squad of terrifying-looking people. They were dressed in ragged clothing, their bodies were a swarthy gray color, they were holding an assortment of weapons, and their faces were painted with white skulls. Not a sound, word, joke, or song came from them as they walked, and they swayed oddly on their way. They were just walking—that was all. I assumed the one in the lead was their commander, and he looked to be a fighter. His head was hidden under a dirty gray bandage, and blood was smeared all along his sleeve. I couldn’t tell if the blood was his or not, though the trail of drops he left told me there was an open wound somewhere.

One of them turned toward us, and I shuddered. His eyes were cloudy, pupil-less, and terrifying; his nostrils were torn and shredded; and the teeth in his mouth were rotted to needle-sharp points. His ravaged nose sniffed, and I could feel Lane tense.

The gray-skinned person stood there for a second swaying back and forth before continuing on his way. Ur exhaled, and Lane relaxed his grip on his sword.

I’ll be honest, I was more scared there than when we saw the dark dwarves in the caves. The gray creatures did it for me. A minute or two later, the terrifying squad had disappeared behind a bend, leaving me with a whispered question for Lane.

“Who was that?”

“That? Maybe sumesi, maybe canaani. I can’t really tell the difference,” he replied laconically.

“Lane, that’s a good answer, but I still don’t understand anything. I just got to the South.” I could tell the tracker was putting me on, giving me the shortest answer he considered good enough.

“There are a lot of different tribes in this part of the South. Almost all of them are peaceful, tillers and herdsmen, people and otherwise, but they don’t enjoy fighting. They don’t care about war, blood, fire, and all the rest of the fun stuff we men like. But there are, or rather were, a few tribes that did always have a penchant for fighting. They never liked working the soil. Instead, they fought with anyone they could find, no matter the cause. Once, a very long time ago, they hacked apart yet another peaceful tribe, though that time, one of the peace-loving local gods had enough. It could have been kind Narat or maybe compassionate Felosteya. Whoever it was, the god cursed all the warlike tribes in the South, even going so far as to strip them of their souls. Now, everyone who’s left wanders around the trails of the South somewhere between dead and alive, with little to no chance of finding shelter or deliverance from the curse. They walk and walk, day and night, with no rest. And if you come across them, you’re a dead man; living creatures are like a red flag to their bull.”

“I heard they eat you and then take your soul,” hissed Ur cautiously.

“Lies,” Lane shot back. “What do they need your soul for when they don’t even have one of their own? Sure, they’ll eat you—I’ve heard that, too. Okay, let’s go before something else happens along.”

“So, they only walk the paths? Or do they wander the jungle, too?” I asked Lane.

“I’ve only seen them on the jungle paths,” he answered after taking a second to think. “But there’s no end to what you can find around here. It’s an ancient land with very old terrors.”

My estimate of two or three hours was mistaken. The sun had already started to ease toward the west when we saw the copse we were looking for. It wasn’t exactly a copse—just a few dozen palms and a bunch of grass. But that was definitely it unless the map was lying, of course.

Thank the heavens we hadn’t had to pull out our swords once. The jungle was dead quiet, and all we’d come across was the natural environment. I thought it was strange, but I really had no reason to think it should be otherwise.

“Okay, here we are,” I said to Lane. “Here’s the scroll I promised you. You know how to use it, right?”

Lane smiled skeptically and quickly unrolled the scroll.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” he asked. Ur nodded to show his support for the question.

“I’m sure,” I replied. “Just remember, we never went anywhere together, and you didn’t even see me today.”

The portal flashed and disappeared. I looked around cautiously. The jungle had me spooked, if just a little. I was out of my element, looking around at the leaves a few steps away, and wondering if they were hiding anything.

I ran over to the palm grove and called out softly. “Idrissa, are you here? Come on, I don’t want to be here when it gets dark. These places are nasty.”

Something rustled above me, some dirt floated down, and then I was surprised to see a dried banana peel and a large palm frond hit the ground.

“Who are you?” a squeaky voice asked from above me.

I looked up to see a face that appeared more monkey than human. The monkey dryad was eying me through the large palm branches. This one certainly got the worst of it. Her sisters had at least some remnant of their old beauty, or at least their old humanity, but this one…

“Who?” I took a deep breath. “I’m a long-suffering martyr here to save you. Your sisters sent me.”

“Really?” The face broke into a smile. “You’re the one?”

“I don’t know about that, though I did help all three of your sisters already. And I’m going to help you, too. Probably.” Seeing as how the Fomor quest had been something less than a walk in the park, I was no longer sure of anything.

The little figure scampered down the trunk of the palm tree with incredible agility, running over to give me a hug. She was tiny, and so her nose ended up smashed against my thigh.

You completed a quest: Find Idrissa the South

This is the fifth in the Children of the Goddess series of hidden quests.

Reward:

8500 experience

Your choice of elite items

Single-use spell: random

Ability to unlock the sixth quest in the Children of the Goddess series.

But that wasn’t all.

You unlocked Level 56!

Points ready to be distributed: 5

Things were looking up.

“I’m fo happy!” the dryad exclaimed into my leg, not letting go. “I’d already loft hope.”

“Shouldn’t have done that. Well, you shouldn’t have given up hope, and you shouldn’t be blowing your nose in my pants—I’ve been wandering the jungle all day in them,” I said tactfully to Idrissa. “Don’t cry. Everything will be okay.”

“Ah, warrior!” The dryad unhitched herself from my pants, wiped her face, and thought for a second before raising a hand in the air. “I need to give you something in honor of our meeting and to thank you for coming.”

She leaped over to her palm tree and started digging around in a hole at the base of it.

“I hid something somewhere around here,” she said, spitting out the sand that kept getting in her mouth. “Ah, here they are!”

She ran back over to show me a signet ring and an earring in her palm. “They’re nice and magical. One of them belonged to a great king and helped him perform feats of valor, while the other belonged to a great mage. What she did with it…the whole jungle couldn’t stop talking about it for a hundred years. I know you’re a warrior, so you’d rather have the king’s item, but I don’t remember which is which. Just pick which one you want. If you’re lucky, you’ll guess right; if not, you won’t.”

Fifty-fifty, in other words. Either way, I figured, I’d come out ahead. Either I could wear it, or I could sell it at the auction. Getting an elite item never hurt anyone.

“I’ll take the ring,” I said to the dryad.

She grabbed it with her other hand and held it out to me.

Sleeping Reason Signet Ring

+35 to intellect

+29 to wisdom

+12% chance of restoring your mana after casting a spell

+3% ability improvement speed

+7% chance of spells cast at you being rendered harmless

Durability: 580/600

Class limitation: mage

Minimum level for use: 75

It wasn’t a bad ring; it was just a shame it wasn’t for me. Anyway, it was the type of thing I could sell for good money.

“Nope, you guessed wrong,” Idrissa squeaked. “Don’t worry, though, you can have this, too.”

She handed me a scroll.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely to the little keeper, dumping the ring and the scroll in my bag. I wish I had an apple. These dryads sure liked them. “Okay, so what can I do for you?”

“You can free me,” she replied, sitting down on a root. “And when you do that, I’ll tell you what’s next.”

“Next?” I knew freeing the dryads wouldn’t be the whole story, and the first one had told me the same, but still—I really wanted to believe that I was close to the finish line.

“Of course,” Idrissa said, scrunching up her face. “It’ll be easy though.”

Oh, I know your “easy,” all right. Everything seems easy when your job is to sit on roots and climb palm trees. Meanwhile, all I have to do is wear my feet down to the bone and drive myself crazy…

“Okay, we’ll deal with that later.” I held up my hands. “You just tell me what I need to do for you.”

“I need a gong,” she responded, batting her eyelashes. “The Gong of the Goddess.”

You unlocked Gong of the Goddess.

This is the sixth in the Children of the Goddess series of hidden quests.

Task for the first part of the quest: collect three keys (the Key of Bravery, the Key of Guile, and the Key of Intellect) hidden in three abandoned temples back in ancient times.

Task for the second part of the quest: find and bring the Gong of the Goddess, a unique item hidden in the cursed Monkey King Temple, to Idrissa the South. The location of the temple will only be shown on your map once the first part of the quest is complete.

Additional information:

The first part of the quest must be completed alone. You may have assistance getting to each of the temples, but you are the only one who can go inside. If you bring help with you into any of the temples, you will fail the quest.

You can have help completing the second part of the quest, though beating it on your own will earn you an additional bonus.

Reward:

20000 experience

Your choice of set items matching your class

A random and unique active ability matching your class

A random and unique passive ability matching your class

+10% to mana

Ability to unlock the seventh quest in the Children of the Goddess series.

Accept?

“Do I get a little helper?” I asked Idrissa wearily.

“What do you mean?” The dryad stared at me in surprise.

“You know, a little one,” I answered, “in a sailor’s uniform. So he can work his fingers while I’m getting the keys. We’re in a famous TV show[3], it sounds like.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the dryad said frankly. “But I don’t have anyone like that. Can you do it without a helper?”

“Well, it’ll be hard, but I’ll do my best.” I sighed.

I accepted the quest and pulled up my map. One of the temples was available, as we’d fought a battle to protect some village or other nearby. Looks like that’s where I’m going first. I didn’t have access to the second or third temples yet, and they were a good distance away from anywhere I’d been, but it was just a matter of time with the number of missions we were taking on. On the other hand, time was starting to be a factor. I had a date in some marshes in the West, and the date was catching up to me.

The dryad spun off some kind of wild, happy dance, squealing and clapping her hands. I had to smile at her unbridled enthusiasm—at least one of us was having a good time.

“Okay, Idrissa, I’m headed off,” I said with a wink. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” the little monkey said, suddenly serious again. “It’s not just my life and that of my sisters that’s riding on you completing this quest; it’s much bigger than that.”

“It is?” I had an idea what her answer would be.

“You’ll find out when you bring the gong back,” Idrissa replied, disappointing me. “No sooner than that, and probably even later.”

I waved before opening a portal to the company headquarters. I’ll drop by Maykong, see what the local beauties are like, and get a chance to try out the stationary portal while I’m at it. Ah, I do have to make sure I pick up a pass though…

Chapter Five

In which the hero visits Maykong

When I heard the words “stationary portal,” I assumed it was something big and impressive, a blue abyss with white flashes inlaid with marble and standing on an enormous pedestal. It would have white steps leading up to it, and glistening brass figurines on the sides. The guards would be four of the Wild Brigade’s best, all wearing polished armor and brandishing swords.

Well, not exactly.

A visit to the Free Company office netted me a small scrap of paper. It read, Hagen, warrior, Seventh Free Company—not lying, and it was stamped with the date: 13 Crimson, 9583rd year after the Creation of Fayroll. Interesting. I headed in the direction the clerk pointed me, though all I found was a small stool, a rusty metal circle with flapping doors and something sticking out of the side, and a sleepy warrior standing nearby the whole contraption.

“Mr. Warrior,” I called over to him, “where’s the portal? Please don’t tell me this is it.”

“You’re looking at it.” He yawned, his entire face splitting in half. “I know you sneaky bastards, though—show me your paper.”

“Here.” I handed him my pass before posing another question. “Will it definitely get me to Maykong?”

“Where else would you want to go?” he asked me lazily. “Old Fild’s salon in Aegan?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” I faltered slightly. “I’ve never been there, to Maykong, and the places you haven’t been to—”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll get to Maykong like you’re supposed to. The portal is constant, so you go where the owner wants you to go as long as you have permission. Here, take your paper back and get going. Climb up on that stool and dive in as soon as I press the lever.”

I clambered up, the soldier pressed some gadget that was apparently the lever, the flaps opened with a creak, and I traipsed into the blue portal. One strange thing was that it had some red streaks. Although… It’s an official, stationary portal. Maybe that’s just how they are?

***

Welcome to Maykong, the capital of the Southern reaches. Maykong, a pearl of the South, is known for its beauty, hospitality, and safety. It was founded back when—

When I had just started playing the game, I thoroughly enjoyed reading all the stories behind local sites, well, so long as I had the time. Then time passed, and I found that I’d lost the desire—everything is good in moderation. Yup, it’s old, it’s legendary… What else is new?

But the city really was beautiful. White buildings reached toward the clear blue sky with long, slender towers. The cries of seagulls and a light, pungent breeze told me that the sea was somewhere nearby. People shouted and talked, the noise typical for a large city, though it was soft, far-off, and muted enough to keep from being annoying. The odd part was that I was sure the portal would take me to some square, or, maybe, a bar. Perhaps even a fun kind of building with large-chested women of all shapes and sizes. Instead, I walked out onto the dust of an absolutely deserted alley. There was nobody to be seen, and all the buildings around me were closed. Some were even boarded up.

“Sahib, would you like a tame snake?” I heard a girlish voice behind me ask.

“What kind of snake?” I spun around as I answered, jumping to the side and instinctively gripping my sword.

On the porch of a boarded-up house sat a girl who looked to be around the age of eight. She had black braids, lively green eyes, and a heavily freckled nose. A fine little girl, in other words, if it hadn’t been for the company she kept—an incredibly large and, judging by the greenish liquid oozing from its fangs, poisonous snake wrapped around her slender arm and part of her body. The creature was longer than my entire apartment. How is she not collapsing under its weight?

“This is Apofss,” the girl explained with a smile. “He’s smart, and he won’t just bite you for no reason. We’ve been waiting here for a long time; I brought him for you. If you take him, he’ll serve you faithfully.”

The snake hissed, almost as if to second what she was saying.

“Sure,” I mumbled, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “But how am I supposed to know what he thinks is a good reason to bite someone?”

“Your command, Sahib. Just point him in the direction of an enemy, and Apofss will go kill him.”

It sounded like a nice creature to have, though the thought of dragging the thing all the way around Fayroll with me had me in a cold sweat. I pulled out a gold coin and tossed it at the girl.

“Here’s some money, go buy something for yourself. Just keep Apofss. I don’t really need him. What’s your name?”

“Pawny.” The girl smiled, showing off where she’d lost a tooth. “Are you sure you won’t take him? He’s great, and I’m sure he’ll come in handy.”

“No, sweetie, I don’t think so,” I replied, waving my hand resolutely and earning yet another hiss from the great and useful snake. You forgot the part about how terrifying he is.

“I live over there,” Pawny said, her tone telling me that she’d warmed up to me. She pointed at a small house at the end of the alley. “If you change your mind, come on in. Just don’t be afraid when you come in; Apofss isn’t the only snake I’m training. None of them will bite you, though.”

I’d rather chew my right arm off than walk into that house, I thought to myself. I said nothing of the sort, however, but smiled at the girl sitting on the step playing with her snake. It was like she had no idea how dangerous it was.

“Hey, traveler,” she called again once I’d taken several steps away from her. “Hold on.”

I turned around.

“You were kind to me, and I can’t let you go without a gift. Good, like evil, is always repaid in kind,” she said, rolling off an unexpectedly deep line for someone her age. Our eyes met once again, and I started. What happened to the emerald-green eyes? Instead, there was a darkness in them, one with neither a beginning nor an end. “If you don’t need a devoted servant, you can at least take this talisman with you. I’d like you to have it.”

Apofss slipped off the arm of the girl, if she could still be called a girl with those eyes. He carried an object in his fangs, and, a split-second before he got to me, he reared up on his tail to look me in the eye.

“Go ahead, warrior, take it. I think it’s a trinket you’ll really need sooner or later.” She laughed, but her laugh was anything but girlish. Something about it told me she was happy with and confident in a job well done.

I held out my hand, spellbound, and Apofss dropped a little, surprisingly heavy, and incredibly life-like figure of a snake into it.

When I looked up, the alley was deserted. Tracks in the dust were the only proof I had that an enormous snake had been right in front of me just a second before. There were also plumes of dust kicked up in the wind. He was really there; I not going crazy.

True Servant of the God

A unique item, it is the only one of its kind.

Allows the holder to summon a true servant of the goddess Tiamat.

Limitation: the summoner cannot be in conflict with servants of the Dark Gods or the Dark Gods themselves. If that is the case, the summoned servant of Tiamat may poison the summoner, and rumors say the bites inflicted by the servants of the goddess are so poisonous that they can kill any creature in Fayroll. That, of course, is still nothing more than rumor, as nobody has ever tried to kill the gods or the world’s creators.

Usage:

To summon a servant of Tiamat, clasp the talisman in your palm, and say, “Servant, appear.” Then point to anyone in front of you, and say, “Kill.”

Cannot be stolen, lost, broken, or sold.

Does not disappear from the holder’s inventory after dying.

I stood there, stunned and wondering who I’d just been talking to. And why me? The only thing that made sense was the fact that I had one more headache on my hands. The dark side was beckoning yet again.

I stuck the statuette in my bag and walked away from the strange alley, which was still deserted save for the wind.

The city really was beautiful. I counted several types of architecture, with round Hindu motifs next door to strict Victorian buildings. There was no logic to it whatsoever, though it turned out surprisingly well.

The next half hour was spent ambling from square to street to alley, and finally, I found myself on the port promenade.

“Hagen, what are you doing here?” Someone smacked into me and happily kissed my cheek.

“I’m just walking,” I answered cautiously, wondering why, in the innumerable throngs of players in the game, I had to get all the odd girls and strange, random meetings.

“I thought you were in the North,” Milly Re continued, her mood unusually light. “Weren’t you going to be up there for a while?”

“It’s cold, and there’s nothing to do without a reputation,” I replied casually. “Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Milly asked in surprise. “The shipyards are here, and we’re building the Great Armada. I’m here at least once a week, sometimes more often than that. Today is a particularly exciting day; we have a ship we’re launching down the slipway. All the leadership of the clan is here.”

Uh, oh…then I have to go. If the clan leadership is here, then their guests probably are, too. And I can just guess who the first guest they’d invite would be. They may not have even had to invite her—she’d figure out a way to get here.

“No, this is clan-only, so she won’t be here,” Milly said, correctly interpreting the darkening expression on my face. “No one’s seen her in a few days anyway. By the way, if you’re so fed up with your clan, why are you still there? Just kiss them all goodbye and be done with them. We’d be happy to have you.”

“If only it were that simple,” I responded sadly.

“Oh, come on, don’t complicate things.” Milly threw her hands up in the air. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Hurry up! The ship is about to hit the water, and we’ll miss the best part.”

She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me through a thick crowd of onlookers. Players and NPCs alike had gathered to watch the ship launch.

Milly moved quickly, and I had no choice but to keep up since she held onto my hand the whole time. As a result, when we got to the Gray Witch and her entourage, all of whom were standing on a small wooden platform raised a good bit off the ground, I was panting and bedraggled.

“Well, what do we have here?” The witch smiled when she saw us. “Where did you find such a good-looking young man?”

“Hi there,” I said, returning her smile.

“He was over on the pier,” Milly Re said loudly. “I figured he could come watch us launch the Arminstrad from close up since it isn’t every day that we launch ships.”

“Nobody here minds, certainly,” the Witch replied, gesturing with her arms.

Something screeched, there was a rumble, and a minute later, we heard a splash. The crowd on the pier cheered wildly.

“What just happened?” The Gray Witch looked around at the group.

Cedric Sekira laughed suddenly, clapping his hands on his thighs. A few other Hound officials joined him. Meanwhile, the Witch continued glancing from one to another with an expression of confusion on her face.

“Did you wave your arms?” Cedric asked when he caught his breath again.

“Yes?” the Witch replied, irritation creeping into her voice.

“Well, there you go. What kind of signal do you think the shipbuilders were waiting for?”

The Gray Witch looked down, then at us, and then back at Cedric before quietly giggling.

Even I had to smile.

“Damn it, Hagen,” shrieked Milly. “You made me miss it! I missed it! The whole thing!”

“Milly, come on,” I said, trying to reason with her. “You dragged me up here yourself. How is it my fault?”

She snorted in frustration.

Once the Hounds stopped laughing, they started climbing down off the platform. The Gray Witch walked over to me. “So, how’s life?” she asked, her voice sincere. “Everything good?”

“Oh, you know,” I answered her in kind. “The usual.”

“They’re saying something big just went down in the North. You were up there, right? Did you hear anything?”

I sighed heavily. “I don’t know that I’ve heard anything, but I did see the whole thing.” There was no point lying. Perhaps better said, it was worth telling at least part of the truth. “The admin set up a game event with a bunch of NPCs killing other NPCs. It was something to see!”

“Ah, it’s a shame I didn’t get up there then.” The Gray Witch shook her head as if letting me know that there was a no greater tragedy in her life.

“But weren’t there some of yours there?” I asked. “I think I saw Romuil, and he might have been with Miurat—at least, the two of them hang out.”

“You saw Romuil there?” Fredegar, Hounds’ security chief, asked from behind me. “Are you sure?”

“Only the gods don’t make mistakes, and even that’s not exactly true,” I replied, turning in his direction. “But I’m sure. It was him.”

“And did you see Miurat himself?” Fredegar’s face was deadly serious. “Or anyone else from our clan?”

“No, I didn’t see Miurat. And I don’t know if anyone else from your clan was there. I’ve only met you all, Milly, and another five or six of you.”

“That makes sense. I’ll be honest with you, my friend,” the Gray Witch said, taking me by the arm and whispering to me mysteriously, “even I don’t know the names of everyone in the clan. I’m fine with faces, but names, and especially the names of the people we’ve had join lately… It’s terrible, but what can you do? That one, Romuil, he joined recently as well, right, Fredegar?”

“Yes.” Fredegar grimaced as if biting down on a handful of cranberries. “A political refugee. So he and Miurat are friends?”

“I don’t know about friends,” I said evasively. “It’s just that when I was at the mistress’s birthday party, they came over to me together. I thought the two of them had something going on—at least, that’s what it looked like to me.”

“Got it,” Fredegar said slowly.

“What happened?” I was intrigued. They were both players I’d spent some time with.

“By the way, Hagen,” the Gray Witch said, smiling radiantly, “look over at that ship.” She pointed toward a majestic, white frigate moored to one of the docks.

“That’s our flagship, the one I sent you the ticket for. What did you decide about that, by the way? Are you going to sail with us or not? I don’t think there’s too much time left before we’re ready to embark.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said frankly. “I’ll see how things look when we get closer, but I don’t want to plan anything yet. It’s not tomorrow or something like that, is it?”

“No, definitely not tomorrow,” the Witch assured me. “We have other plans for tomorrow; we’re going to be playing mafia.”

I looked around at the clan leadership with respect. It doesn’t get much more meta than a game within a game, and not just anyone can pull that off.

“Where are you headed off to now?” the Gray Witch asked, apparently in a tactful attempt to let me know that the show was over and I was free to go.

“Back to the Free Companies,” I sighed. “I’m a soldier now.”

“Whoa,” Fredegar said with surprise. “Why’s that?”

“The experience, a way to explore the South relatively quickly, and a few other things,” I said, counting them off on my fingers. “You have to try everything in the game.”

“So, you’ll be in the South for a while now, I guess,” the Witch said thoughtfully. “Excellent.”

“If that’s it, I’ll head off.” I waited for the Witch to nod her approval, said goodbye to everyone, and waved to Milly. She still had a look of annoyance on her face and walked off in the direction of the city center. I needed to visit the hotel and drop off the extra money I was carrying around. It would have been interesting to find out how much the NPCs were making with each raid, as I had a nice stream of cash coming in. At least, by my standards.

Maykong was a tricky city, and what I thought was the main road narrowed gradually until it turned into an alley that dumped me into a shadowy park.

“Stop him!” somebody shouted, and I heard footsteps and the clash of weapons.

A short player dashed toward me down the alley, and behind him were three mustachioed characters with nasty-looking faces that were scowling savagely. What surprised me was that they were all NPCs, and all of them were aggressive. But they’re wearing the city guard uniform?

I’d barely had time to register that surprise when the fugitive stopped next to me and croaked out a request, puffing heavily.

“Hey, give me a hand here?”

I dubiously watched the whole scene unfolding—the mustaches closing in on the scout, whose name was Joker. There was no time to give him an answer before the first mustache made my mind up for me. All I could do was pull out my sword and parry his blow—my shield had to remain on my back for the time being.

After summoning my wolf, I had him go after the second killer, leaving the third for Joker. He wasn’t in a hurry to take on his opponent, however, preferring to circle him warily.

The trio wasn’t very high-level, and so I was able to polish mine off quickly and land a critical hit to the back of the one focused on Joker. The third, however, got lucky. He killed my wolf and took to his heels, yelling back at us in parting. “You’re dead men! The whole city is going to hear about this, and the guards will all know your names! I’m going to tell everyone in the guild, too!”

His promise made, the surviving mustache spat in our direction and sprinted off.

“That’s not good,” Joker said with a shake of his head, leaning over and collecting what should have been my loot. “This is a problem.”

“Well, yes,” I agreed, collecting the loot from the first body and deciding to forget about the second—that’s what you get when you’re dealing with the Joker. “But could you explain to me, my good man, why your problems are now mine? I’m just wondering why that guy is going to tell the city guard and some guild something. What guild, by the way? And what do I have to look forward to?”

“How do I put this?” Joker started, obviously winding up. “It’s just that—”

“I can tell my own stories, thank you very much,” I said, cutting in. “Are you a thief?”

“That’s my class, yes,” he replied with a nod.

“And in real life?” I asked directly.

“No, not like that. Though I’m not one to pass up a good opportunity.” He looked me in the eye. “The problem is that I have a stake in the game.”

“Hmm?” I looked at him inquisitively, letting him know that I wasn’t sure if I should ask him what his stake in the game actually was. I wasn’t sure I’d get an answer.

Joker simply shrugged with a sly smile, as if letting me know that I might one day get the truth—but not right then.

“Okay, Hagen, we need to get out of here.” Joker looked around apprehensively, especially scanning the alley and the shadows starting to fall across it in the twilight. “They wouldn’t come at us all at once, and I’m not sure we can fight them off when they do come. That bastard could get the thieves’ guild after us—that’s who he was talking about. Well, and the city guard, obviously.”

“Wait, why do I have to fight them off? You’re the one they’re after,” I muttered sullenly, realizing full well that I was already in too deep.

“You and I both have to deal with the thieves and the city guards now. The former want us dead, and the latter will be after our money—and they may want us dead, too. I have to get out of this city, but how? Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“What do you mean, how? Just jump in a portal and be done with it,” I replied, surprised, as I matched his fast pace out of the alley.

“I can’t. There’s an important deal I have coming up, so I have to make sure I’m here every now and then.”

He has a deal… What kind of scout is he? Anyway, I wanted to get him back for screwing me over.

“Why don’t you join us?” I asked amiably.

The scout squinted at me. “Who is ‘us’?”

“The Free Companies,” I replied with a wink. “Ever heard of them?”

“Oh, please,” he exclaimed incredulously. “Life’s miserable there, isn’t it?”

“I’m standing right here, aren’t I?” I spun around and assumed a heroic stance. “That’s all there is to it! I’m full, I go out and get drunk, and I have all the tobacco I could want. That’s the ‘army.’ Every week we get a day off, and I’m practically drowning in experience. The army? Yeah, right, the army. Every few days we go out on a mission, but other than that, we just lounge around. No marches, no drills. And plenty of money.”

“Sure sounds great.” Joker looked at me, his suspicion still not allayed. “Are you serious?”

“Fine, forget it,” I replied, waving him off. “You’re a big boy; you can do what you want.”

We left the alley, which had led me to the park. “Do you know where the central square is? I need to go drag a few mates out of the bar,” I asked the scout. I’d decided not to visit the hotel, figuring that going off to find it would be just asking for more problems. The scout pointed me in the right direction, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

“See you!” I called with a wave. He waved back, his eyes reflecting his unwillingness.

“Thanks—I owe you.” He nodded and walked off.

Nothing else happened on my way to the main square, and the first thing I saw there was the hulking figure of Ur. He was happily running around in the fountain, lifting his legs up high and splashing a few guards who were obviously leery of trying to stop him.

The rest of my group was relaxing around the fountain, egging the Northerner on with advice and shouts of encouragement.

“Splash that one. He looks like he needs to relax!”

“You’re dancing, but why aren’t you singing? Everything’s better when you sing!”

“Yeah, exactly! Songs are what get you through life, and…they just help with everything!”

“You dog, you!”

“Free Companies, yee-ee-ha-a-aw!”

The guards were hesitantly threatening to bash Ur’s face in, though they clearly wanted nothing to do with the crazy mercenaries. Past experience had taught them well.

“Oh, Hagen!” Ur yelled when he saw me. “Come on over here, let’s go for a swim!”

“Come on, let’s go!” I said. “It’s getting dark, and we need to head back to the barracks.”

“Really?” He stopped, the guards also falling silent and staring at him hopefully.

“Really,” Lane responded strongly. “It’s time to go. Are we all here?”

“Fattah’s missing,” Torn said. “He went to see a friend at the Lodestar, and ended up staying.”

“We should get him.” Lane looked at Ping. “Otherwise, he’ll think we forgot about him.”

“There he is,” Pong answered instead of Ping. “He’s coming.”

I followed the brothers’ glance and saw Fattah leaving a pub with a large figure I thought was vaguely familiar. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see his name in the gathering dusk, and he opened a portal and jumped in before I could go over to get a better look.

“Hagen, you’re here? I didn’t think you were going to be playing today.” Fattah smiled at me amiably as he walked over.

“Ah, I decided to jump in for a while and see the city. Hey, who was that? I feel like I know him,” I said, deciding to ask the question before I forgot.

“Just a friend. We went on a raid together a while back, and happened to see each other here.” The elf waved off the question. “Time to head back?”

I wanted to ask him what his friend’s name was, but that thought left my mind the second I realized that the portal back to the base was there on the main square—not back in the alley where it dumped me.

“Lane,” I said, tugging on the sleeve of the group’s most sober member. “When you’re coming here to Maykong from the company, does the portal drop you here or something else?”

“Here, of course,” the tracker replied, adjusting his belt. “This is where all the fun houses are, not to mention the Lodestar. We always drink there; it’s tradition. The portal takes you here, and we port back from here. Really, the Maykong authorities don’t like it when we go off around the city. They don’t mind if we get into trouble here, so we stay out of the residential areas.”

What’s going on? There was a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. Pawny, who are you?

Chapter Six

In which the hero is rented out.

“Hey, babe, you remember that we have to go to the pastry store first, right? I know a really good one near Park Kultury.” That was how Vika greeted me when I stepped out of the capsule and into the real world.

“‘First,’ and then where?” I asked apprehensively.

She pulled herself away from the glossy magazine she was paging through from her cross-legged position on the couch, her eyes widening. “So you forgot. Sweetie, we’re going to see your parents tomorrow.”

Oh, boy. I really had forgotten. We’d scheduled a trip, but the only problem was that my parents had no idea. Oh, no, and mom might have dragged dad to the dacha “one last time.” She had a habit of closing things, reopening them, and shutting them again, all under the guise of “one last time.” The “last time” often coincided with the “first time” of the next year, in fact. The only things that got in the way of all her “last times” were heavy snowfalls or other good reasons: catching a cold, big sales, or visits from possible future daughter-in-laws. That, at least, was how my mom always evaluated my girlfriends. My opinion didn’t matter in the least, and that’s why I rarely let her meet anyone.

However, I could tell by the way Vika was looking at me that uttering a single word about how we weren’t going would mean… Well, I wasn’t sure what it would mean, but I had no desire to find out. The previous few days had been difficult for both of us as it was. And you can’t constantly be tearing down budding relationships like the one we had.

“Of course, we need to head over,” I said, obediently nodding. “Just you go ahead and take charge, figure out where to go and pick out the cake. I think they’re all good.”

“Pies, not a cake,” Vika replied. “We can get a mix, the kind with lots of little pies in a big box…”

My stomach heard her say “pies,” and responded with a loud, clearly audible gurgle.

“Got it. I’ll go heat up the cutlets.” She got up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen.

“Cutlets,” I said to myself as I pulled out a cigarette and watched her walk away. “That sounds good.”

Out on the balcony, I finished my cigarette and called my parents’ house, hoping against hope that they hadn’t left for the dacha.

I was in luck—they were just about to leave. My mom had spent the whole evening trying to decide if they should go or not, and it was only when she’d driven my dad good and crazy that she thought up an ironclad argument. “I was just waiting so we wouldn’t have to deal with traffic.” Then she started pushing in the direction of the car. My dad put up a feeble resistance, but he’d already lost by the time I called.

It took him all of a minute to tell me the story. It was mostly interjections and conjunctions, but I knew mom well enough to fill in the blanks.

“Don’t worry, dad, everything’s fine. Hand mom the phone,” I said to my upset parent.

“Mom, hi, I’m coming to see you tomorrow,” I said quickly as soon as I heard her voice. “I’m bringing my girlfriend, too.”

Her “meet us at…” was cut short before it ever had a chance to get started. “Bringing my girlfriend” meant we could only get together in Moscow, as the dacha was cordoned off for anyone not part of the immediate family. Even my ex-wife had taken a while to be allowed into the holy of holies, and that was only because she’d made a good impression on my mom right from the get-go.

“Really?” my mom answered thoughtfully. “Is she a good one?”

“You’ll like her,” I said reassuringly. “She has a good head on her shoulders, and hair on her head. Plus, she’s a good cook, and she likes to keep things clean.”

My poor mom had a hard time forgetting Irma, who she’d met accidentally two years before when the two of us were walking down the street. I have no idea why Irma, who wasn’t into the punk scene at all, shaved her gorgeous chestnut locks, but my mom was shocked by the light reflecting off her polished head into the windows of the buildings around us.

“Oh, you’re living together?” Mom didn’t care about that kind of thing, and she had no qualms calling it like it was. “That was fast.”

“Well, what do you expect? That’s how life is now,” I replied diplomatically. “We’ll be there tomorrow by two, and we’ll bring something for tea.”

“Sure, sure,” she responded, clearly thinking about something. “We can forget the dacha. I read online that it’s supposed to rain tomorrow anyway.”

My mom stayed up with the times. She’d mastered the internet quickly, and enjoyed spending time reading the news, gossip about TV and movie stars, reviews of tours to spots around the Golden Ring, and other fun nonsense.

“See you tomorrow,” I said. She started saying something to my dad as I hung up.

“Okay, fine, we’re not going anywhere. What are you…”

It sounded like the old man was in for round two.

How did Vika know about all the little pastry shops? I’d spent my entire life in Moscow and had no idea that somewhere in the web of streets in the historical center, there were small shops owned by local bakers. The pastries were fresh, they smelled fantastic, and the prices were excellent. Not long before that, I’d seen a bakery in the center with a sign that read, “Pies cheaper than ever today: just 110 rubles apiece.” I’d stopped there in shock. How could a cabbage pie cost that much? Did they use diamond flour? Was the cabbage encrusted in gold? I had no idea who would be willing to dish out that much.

Contrary to my expectations, the introduction went off without a hitch. My mom had to ask a few clever questions, of course, that made me roll my eyes and my dad play with his mustache, but Vika was brilliant. She felt her way around the traps my mom laid with flawless dexterity.

The two separated as friends, and, judging by the looks I was getting from my mom, she was already putting together a plan to get me married to the “very nice girl from a good family” and put us to work making her grandbabies. At least, as she walked us to the elevator, she whispered in my ear, “That’s the right kind of girl, you know…” She was in her element.

“I don’t know what you were talking about,” Vika said, thinking back to the spiel I’d given her on the way there about how to meet my parents and stay sane in the process. “They’re very nice. I enjoyed meeting them. And your mom is a great cook.”

I could only agree with her there. My mom really was good.

“I think you’ll like my parents, too,” Vika continued. “Maybe we can visit them for a few days this New Year’s? Winter is great in Kasimov—snow, nice and cold. And there are plenty of hills so we can go skiing.”

I don’t know if it was funny or sad, but, either way, I was probably a heartless bastard. I’d never even thought to ask where she was from. Not even once. That’s not good.

Kasimov. It was a familiar name, but the only thing I could remember was that Balakirev the Buffoon [4]was from there and that they had big burdocks.

“Why not? The paper will be closed, anyway,” I replied genially. “At least, our part will be. We just need to make sure someone checks in on Yushkov to make sure he doesn’t drink for ten days straight.”

Vika smiled happily and then laced a good bit of poison in her voice to ask her next question.

“And how will you get by for four days without your game?”

My answer was completely sincere. I believed it, at least.

“It’ll be great. We can ski, we’ll have some good food, and I’ll be too busy loving you.”

She smiled again, this time even, I thought, purring a little. It made me feel good.

“Maybe Elmira will go with us. She could use a break from Fayroll, too.”

I twitched. The good feeling was gone, and I was already worried about spending four days with… I don’t think I’ll live to see day two, not to mention day four!

“Although, probably not,” Vika said, quickly lifting my spirits. “She and my mom have been at each other for the past few years.”

Has she been able to get along with anyone recently? I mean, besides the Iron Doofus.

Of course, I didn’t say that out loud—there was no point spoiling Vika’s good mood. She was sitting there smiling, humming some tune or other, and the headlights whipping by in the other direction flashed in her eyes. Screw it. Let her sister go. I’ll go, too, even if I don’t want to—I’ve seen worse…

***

It was still summer in Fayroll. Either winter never came to the South, or there was no such thing in the game to begin with. Either way, it was just as hot and muggy as ever, even as Moscow grew colder by the day. The morning breeze smelled less like my first cigarette of the day, and more like imminent snow and bad weather.

Everyone was bustling around the parade grounds when I got there. They ran, yelled, and hustled in every direction, and I couldn’t find my company. Noticing a player running in my direction, I stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” I said to him. “What’s going on? Are we under attack? Or are we attacking someone else?”

“All three of the companies are being sent somewhere, though nobody knows where exactly. I’ve never seen anything like this, and I’ve been here for two months,” he answered. “Who knows what it is? Maybe some kind of big event. Sorry, I have to go—my squad is already lined up.”

“Wow,” I said as he ran off. “And where’s my company?”

I dashed along the grounds, scanning each of the ranks of mercenaries. I’d gotten there just in time—another half hour, and I’d have been greeted by guards, and the dust stirred up by the large formation.

“Hagen!” I heard Lane call. “Let’s go!”

I looked around, finally catching a glimpse of a hand waving to me from the second row of what looked to be my company. Running over, I squeezed through the front row and got in line between Lane and Fattah.

“Where have you been?” hissed Fattah. “We would have all been punished if you’d missed the general assembly.”

“How was I supposed to know that this was going on?” I answered just as quietly. “It’s not like I got a letter or something. I just happened to log in. Today’s Sunday, by the way.”

“What do the Free Companies care what day it is?” replied Lane philosophically. “It doesn’t matter if it’s Wednesday or Saturday; our job is to fight and die.”

“Hush!” Troot ordered under his breath. “Bunch of gossiping old ladies.”

“It’s all Hagen’s fault,” Falk said from the first row, jumping into the conversation. “We were all quiet until he got here. And that’s not to mention the fact that he was late!”

“Down boy,” I shot back at him. “Fetch!”

Troot snarled so loudly that Lieutenant Grokkh swore he’d start chopping off everyone’s manhood—our squad, his squad… The goblin grinned evilly at us, though right then the lieutenant promised to cut off his ears personally.

“That makes sense,” I said, realizing that I was going too far but not caring enough to stop. “Goblins don’t have anything between their legs to chop off. Sometimes you can find it if you have a big enough magnifying glass, though not always.”

Everyone around me shook with laughter, while the goblin shot daggers at me with his eyes. We were at war, with everything that had happened up until that point being just a fun prelude. Grokkh’s look told me I was in trouble with him, too.

“Shouldn’t have said that,” whispered Lane. “You have no idea what a bastard he is.”

“Oh, I do. I just couldn’t help myself,” I said contritely.

“Warriors!” Captain Singkh’s voice rang out across the parade grounds and hushed our formation. “Today is an unusual day with an unusual mission. Not only will you fight spawn of magic; today you will do battle with Death itself. Stand tall in battle, and remember that your job is to both finish victorious and survive. I believe in you! Lieutenants, take your companies through the portal in numerical order.”

He was inspiring, if uninformative. All I learned was that we wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

The Third Company tramped through the large portal the captain opened.

“Seventh Company, to the portal, march!” Grokkh barked out five minutes later.

We started by marching in place, then continued across the parade grounds. I couldn’t help but pause before I walked through the portal. Where is it going to take me? I wasn’t sure if I’d find myself with my company or somewhere off by myself.

In the end, I came out the other side of the portal with everyone else. But when we did walk out, I wasn’t just surprised; I nearly plopped right down on the ground in amazement. I know this place! Not far off, there’s a bride waiting for me in a marsh. Of, course, if a normal person had heard me say that, he’d have had me committed. But still—we were in Mettan. What’s there to do here?

“Mettan,” Fattah said from next to me. “If we’re here for the reason I think we are, I need to make a quick trip to the hotel.”

I followed his gaze and realized what he was thinking. No, that can’t be! Isn’t that against the rules?

There were more than just our three companies there. Portals flashed right and left, and the First, Fourth, and Eighth Companies marched out onto the Mettan square. The players that joined them, I couldn’t help but notice, were all from the same clan: Fortune’s Favorites. That’s strange; I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them. That said, there were certainly enough clans in Fayroll for me to miss a few…

“Fattah, they’re all from the same clan. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“You’re probably right, though there’s something else that has me surprised. I’ve never heard or read of the Free Companies being hired to storm Mirastia—at least, not this many of them. But no, I’ve never heard of that clan either,” Fattah noted.

“There’s a first for everything.”

“Then I definitely need to get over to the hotel. Mirastia is a special location, and your things stay there if you die while you’re there on a raid, though we’ll respawn here. There’ll be no getting back to them. I don’t think the normal Free Company respawn rules hold true on that side of the river.”

“Are you sure?” I was having a hard time believing him.

“Not completely, but I’ve read a lot about Mirastia.”

I thought for a second. The mercenaries were all there, and it was getting crowded in the square. It didn’t look like there was much time left until we set off.

“Forget it,” I said, winking at Fattah and heading over to the lieutenant.

“Master Lieutenant, could I have leave for a few minutes? My stomach is tight, and I don’t want to shame the company while we’re crossing the river.”

“The mission hasn’t been handed down, and he already crapped himself,” the goblin laughed deliberately.

I decided that discretion was the better part of valor when it came to not making the lieutenant mad and was rewarded with a nod of his head and three fingers—I had three minutes, I understood.

Dashing into the hotel, I got the key and shot up the stairs with Fattah hot on my heels.

I left everything I had with me there, dumping my gold and valuables, with the exception of what would stay with me if I died, in the chest. Then I pulled on one of the sets of armor Fat Willie had given me way back when, picked out the Skorpion Mace Reineke gave me—I didn’t want to lose it, but I had to have something to fight with—checked my bag one more time, and only then noticed the scroll Idrissa had given me.

I looked at it and grunted, almost putting it back in my bag, but at the last moment tossing it into the trunk where I wouldn’t be tempted to use it.

Gift Scroll

Wall of Fire

For use in enclosed spaces.

Summons a flame that fills the space in which it is used, destroying all living things with the exception of the one casting the spell.

Spell active for: 45 seconds

Effective area: 20 square meters

Usage: one-time, does not need to be learned

Additional information: this scroll can only be used by the player to whom it was gifted or given. It does not disappear from the holder’s inventory after death.

It was a fun little toy, in a word. I just wished it had my name engraved on it.

That last thought came as I clattered down the stairs. Running out onto the porch, I slowed down and decided to wait for Fattah. If the master lieutenant reprimanded us for being late, it would be easier to push back if there were two of us.

He appeared the same minute behind me, and we looked each other over before grunting amicably. Fattah was wearing obviously low-level leather trappings, and there was a mangy-looking bow slung over his shoulder that could have been made by a child. He had leather slippers on his feet.

“We should head over to Kursky Railway Station looking like this—we’re dressed perfectly to walk through the train cars singing something sad,” Fattah said to me. “We’d probably be more successful and make more money.”

“That’s for sure,” I agreed. “At the least, we look like refugees running after a train.”

A fairly high-level player from the Fortune’s Favorites snorted when he saw us.

“What are you two outcasts doing here?” he asked me, as I apparently looked better than Fattah. “At your level, you should still be in the starting locations—definitely not coming with us.”

“Right, tell us where to go,” huffed the archer. “Take a closer look.”

“Oh, I got it,” the player, whose name was Chang, responded in surprise. “Then what are you doing looking like that? Trouble with PKers?”

“No, damn it,” I said, jumping into the conversation. “It’s just that a few clans have enough money on their hands that they can hire the Free Companies to clear out undead locations, and now, the players serving in the companies have to go along with them. We’ll probably end up just dying there for you all.”

“A-ah!” Chang smacked himself in the forehead. “You’re mercenaries! I couldn’t figure out what was going on—a couple normal guys, decent levels, and wearing a bunch of rags. As far as Mirastia goes, yeah, we decided to just jump in and make a big splash. Show off a bit, you know?”

I was starting to feel like I was talking to a deaf person—we were creating more questions for each other than we were answering.

“Who is ‘we’?” I asked.

“Hey, would you mind coming with us and explaining the whole thing if you have a few minutes?” Fattah jumped in. “We have to head over to our company, but it would be great to hear what’s going on.”

“Why not?” Chang’s smile was easygoing. “We won’t be leaving before you guys, so I’m not in a hurry.”

“Okay, so who is ‘we’?” I asked again.

“We’re Fortune’s Favorites. It’s a new clan alliance that just formed up yesterday when six clans joined forces.”

The pieces fell into place, and I realized who “we” was, why they wanted to take on Mirastia, and where they’d gotten the money. Hiring almost the entire Free Companies was very expensive—prohibitively so, even. But if six clans got together…

“So which clans merged?” Fattah asked, digging into the details.

“The Chimney Sweeps, the Fun Suicides, the Triple Strike,” Chang replied, ticking them off on his fingers, “my clan—the Three Bears, the Sword and the Cross, and Fayroll Power.”

“Oh, wow,” Fattah said, his brows raised. “Fayroll Power—that’s news.”

“You’re telling me. So we decided to jump right into the deep end, and the clan heads got together. A quick jaunt through Mirastia to see the Emperor is what they came up with. By the way, you’re from the Thunderbirds? I don’t remember you. Are you new?” Chang squinted at me.

“Yep,” I replied with a nod. “I’m new, really a nobody in the clan.”

“Then we’ll be seeing each other again. Okay, good luck on the other side of the river.” He winked at me, giving me an unsettling impression, and waved. Then he walked over toward the already-large group of players standing by the gate.

“What was that about?” I asked Fattah.

“I’ll tell you, but first we should let the lieutenant know that we’re back.”

Our lieutenant was standing with the other commanders near Captain Singkh and another officer wearing the Free Company uniform, and all of them were listening attentively to the latter. When he saw us waving to him, he made a face and gestured us toward our squad.

As we headed over, Fattah sighed.

“We have some fun in front of us. I haven’t heard of the Bears or the Fun Suicides, I’ll be honest, so they’re probably just little clans. But the other ones are pretty well known—especially Fayroll Power, one of the oldest clans around. They may not be the strongest clan out there, though they’re definitely a force to be reckoned with. And there’s only one thing they have in common.”

“What’s that?” I asked, correctly interpreting the pause Fattah took.

“None of them like the Hounds of Death. And that’s putting it lightly.”

“Huh,” I grunted.

“Yup. So here’s what’s going to happen: six clans, four of whom hate a certain other clan, formed an alliance, and now they’re going to easily and almost without losing anyone, take Mirastia, a location just about nobody else has been able to beat. And the others suffered heavy losses.”

“And nobody will ever hear about us,” I said, continuing his thought. “Nobody writes or talks about the cannon fodder; they only write and talk about the cannon. And those guys over there are going to climb right over our dead bodies straight to Skull Palace.”

Fattah took over from there. “They’ll record the whole thing, too. Then they’ll open up the clan to recruits, say, at Level 15 and higher. They’ll get a river of noobs joining them, and Fortune’s Favorites will have all the fodder they need.”

“That’ll make them one of the largest clans on the continent,” I replied.

“But just imagine how much money they have! Our swords aren’t cheap, and all the Free Companies are here. All of them!”

“Yep. And then they’ll scoop up another two or three clans, and…”

“And?” Fattah looked at me pointedly.

“Now, I see why he mentioned the Thunderbirds,” I responded darkly. “We’re friends with the Hounds.”

“He was letting you know that you’ll have to answer for that friendship,” Fattah said with a smile.

Those may be the clans our leaders split away from, I thought. If that was true, finding my way onto the Thunderbirds’ black list by deserting might be a better option than finding myself on the same list for those other six clans.

“You should leave,” Fattah said. “It may not look good, but you’ll be able to play in peace, at least.”

“Yeah,” I replied with a sigh. “Looks like a clan war is in the offing.”

“Not yet, though…” Fattah looked over at my crestfallen face. “Come on, don’t worry about it. Maybe nothing will happen. They’ll get started, their leaders will have an argument, they won’t be able to come to an agreement, and the whole thing will fall apart. That happens all the time. Remember, we’re just mercenaries. We don’t follow the crowds, nobody really sees us, and nobody kills each other in cities anyway. Relax. Nobody will touch you as long as you’re in the Free Companies.”

“Companies! Line up by number, and board in that order to head across the Crisna. Move out!” we heard a booming voice call.

“Yeah, nobody will touch me,” I replied. “On the other hand, we’re going to die over on the other bank.”

Twenty minutes later, our company clambered aboard one of the enormous rafts ferrying the Free Companies across the Great River. Lights glimmered on the opposite shore, and the clash of steel echoed back to us. The first companies had already joined the battle.

Chapter Seven

In which the hero does his job.

The raft was made out of large, fairly slippery logs. I don’t know if the idea was to hint at the unpleasant fate that awaited players on the other shore by making even the transport across the river uncomfortable, or if time, water, and a lack of electric tools and other instruments had done their work making the floating giants what they were. Either way, I fell in twice as I tried to settle into a more comfortable position, knocking off three percent of my health in the process. I gave up eventually and just laid there looking at the sky and trying to decide if I should tell the Hounds what I’d heard from Chang.

On the one hand, I assumed they had to have heard the news, and were probably very well aware of Fortune’s Favorites. On the other, it couldn’t hurt to give them a show of good faith and the deep respect I held them in. I just had to be careful.

I started by checking to see which of the Hounds from my friend list was online. There were three of them: Turok, Miurat, and Milly Re. Turok could be eliminated right away since he and I barely knew each other. Miurat was too problematic for what I was looking for. Milly Re, however, was perfect.

We were getting close to the other bank, at least judging by the crunch of skeleton bones breaking and the cries of dying mercenaries, so I quickly knocked out a message.

Hey, Milly.

I don’t know if the Gray Witch and Fredegar are aware of this, but there’s a new clan alliance with the whimsical name of Fortune’s Favorites. It just so happens to be full of the Hounds of Death’s biggest and most die-hard fans, including, for example, Fayroll Power. Something tells me that your spheres of influence will be clashing at some point in the future. They’re currently getting ready to turn Mirastia on its ear, a feat that will lend them credence. With that in mind, they hired the Free Companies—all of them. Just imagine how much that must have cost.

Milly, I also have a personal request: don’t mention the fact that I told you about this too widely, as you know my wonderful clan leader. She’ll just get on me about how I told you, but not her…

Sincerely yours, Hagen of Tronje

P.S. You looked great today. X.

It was a job well done. I’d gotten in a joke, but I also gave them some information. Someone somewhere must have checked a box for me—or was planning on checking it very soon.

The shore was already close, and I’d pulled myself up on my elbows when my internal mailbox dinged. Well, that was fast, Milly.

Hi, Kif

You have an amazing talent for turning up where:

- You shouldn’t be

- The most interesting parts are happening

Don’t stay too long on that side of the Crisna—you aren’t supposed to be there.

Also, we’ll be expecting you tomorrow at our office, sometime around eleven. A car will pick you up near your entrance by ten.

Z

Take that. The high command cut in from out of nowhere, and that had me thinking that the battle in front of me was less a chain of coincidences than someone’s plan I had no business being part of. Either that or nobody had even accounted for me—and that wasn’t strange in the least. It would have been silly for me to consider myself someone worth reckoning with in the game. More likely was that I could see something that I wasn’t supposed to see. Plus, who knows what Fayroll’s founding fathers had cooked up? Maybe I should just jump in and let the first skeleton give me an honorable and heroic death. That would send me back to the headstone on the other side having lost nothing—I hadn’t accrued any experience, and there wasn’t much for me to win in Merastia as it was.

Ding!

Hi, Hagen

The GW is aware of the new alliance, as well as the raid it is operating, though we only found out that Mirastia was the target about an hour ago. Their counterintelligence is impressive.

As far as we know, you’re there as part of the Free Companies, so would you mind meeting with me when you’re done? It would be even better if you visited our humble abode to tell us everything you saw before, during, and after your trip to that side of the Crisna.

We don’t have the right to demand that service from you, but if you provide it simply as a true friend, the Hounds of Death, myself included, will not forget it.

Your Milly

P.S. You should have seen how the GW yelled at Fredegar!

Right, “Milly.” Something told me that the most Milly had to do with the letter was writing it up and sending it, along with, perhaps, adding the postscript. The rest of the letter wasn’t like her at all, and I could just guess who it was. Things didn’t sound good, however, as there was only one way to read “their counterintelligence is impressive”: they’d played the Hounds like a fiddle. That had to have been why the Gray Witch laid into Fredegar.

“Company, to the shore!” The raft gently nudged the sand, and the mercenaries slipped and jumped down onto it.

Grunting and cursing, I clambered down and carefully made my way toward firm, familiar land. I made a mental note never to ride anything like that raft again.

Two contrasting thoughts jousted in my head. On the one hand, my bosses had given me clear instructions to die without going too far inland. I wasn’t supposed to go looking for bony adventures to crack my equally bony head against. Their request was significant, and they were, after all, my employers. On the other hand, there was the Gray Witch’s request. Her clan was clearly in for some tough times, but she was still the leader of one of the game’s premier forces—making one little player’s life miserable was certainly within her power. She wouldn’t be giving me anything right away for the information I had, certainly, but it was still nice to have the world’s great and powerful owing you a favor. Her letter was clear: the longer I held out, the better it was for me.

“Oh, screw you all,” I said out loud, earning myself a puzzled glance from Fattah. I pointed at the slippery logs with my eyes, and he nodded understandingly.

Tired of puzzling over who to prioritize, I decided just to go with the flow. I wouldn’t get myself killed on purpose, and I’d just play as if nobody had written me anything. They could get eaten by trolls for all I cared right then. Besides, it wasn’t like my chances of surviving that long were any good.

Mirastia lived up to its dark, deathly, and foul reputation. The ruins of once-great buildings, the shattered remains of sculptures, the piles of trash, the heaps of bones, and the picturesque corpses scattered over the scenery intermingled with the cocoons left by the battle between the first companies and the locals. The whole picture was illuminated by large, bluish-purple bonfires blazing their way out of the ground.

Gazprom: dreams come true. It looks like there’s plenty of natural gas here, but nobody’s mining it. What’s Miller waiting for? This was what came to mind.

“Don’t just stand there, keep moving!” cut in Grokkh’s voice. “Onward with your squads—there’s almost nobody left from the companies that landed first.”

Our ragged crowd dashed forward along a shattered, potholed, but still well-marked road leading to an enormous palace in the shape of a skull that sat atop a tall hill. It didn’t look like it was more than a kilometer away, but the several companies that had gotten there ahead of us hadn’t made it all the way there.

“Fattah, what’s the skeleton respawn time here?” I panted.

“Nobody really knows for sure,” he responded. “But people think it starts when at least one respawned player crossed back over the river to rejoin an ongoing raid. If nobody tries to get back into the fight, there’s no respawn.”

“That’s smart,” I said.

Fattah wanted to say something else, but he didn’t have time. A crowd of skeletons waving rusty weapons leaped out from behind the wreck of a white-stone house and charged our squad, which was in the rear of our company. Their level wasn’t that high, but there were a lot of them: around three dozen.

Most of the column ran on ahead, leaving us to deal with our problems ourselves.

“Mmph.” Lane’s sword buried itself in the ribs of the first skeleton, knocking off a small cloud of bone dust.

“I hate the undead.” Ping deftly lopped off the head of another skeleton, complete with burning eyes and rust-crested helmet.

“Can’t stand them,” his brother added, cutting the legs out from under a third skeleton.

I didn’t say anything, simply catching one skeleton’s sword on my shield and parrying another’s blow with my sword. It wasn’t my first time around the block, and I was used to the whole thing. Can you get loot from them?

The boney undead had long since stopped scaring me—I’d left my fear of them somewhere back in Gringvort.

Our squad ground its way through the creaking joints and ragged clothes fairly quickly, the only injuries we sustained being a few cuts and scrapes.

“Oh, the Ninth Company is coming ashore—look how their corporal is yelling,” noted Torn as he wiped the blade of his saber. The last undead he’d polished off had been kind of damp, spraying slime everywhere—more zombie than skeleton.

It was true about the corporal. He was ripping into his troops with such vim and vigor that I instinctively wanted to stand at attention or fill a bag with rocks and run up and down some kind of hill. My sergeant had made it his personal mission to see me “transparent, thin, and ringing.”

“Our Grokkh doesn’t have anything on their corporal, and Grokkh is even a lieutenant,” said Garron.

“This isn’t exactly the spot to compare commanders in the Free Companies,” snorted Lane.

“Hey, the longer we stand here, the better our chances are of staying alive,” Torn shot back.

“Come on, what chances? We’re right in the middle of the whole thing.” Lane said that last part as if there were a grin on his face, though I didn’t see a single muscle twitch.

“Whatever, what happens happens,” Pong said, jumping into the conversation with some annoyance.

“You can’t run from fate,” his brother added.

The Seventh Company ran by, their lieutenant squinting disapprovingly at the group of us standing there.

Without a word, Fattah dashed off after them, and I followed suit.

The company met up with the remains of the landing force, who were doing their best to beat off skeletons from the road at the base of the hill. At some point, it had probably been a checkpoint or something similar, though all that was left was the rubble from the fortifications, the wreckage of once-powerful gates, and sheer cliffs circling the hill. The cliffs were impassable, leaving Skull Palace in a naturally protected position. It was like the neck of a bottle: there was plenty of space inside if you could just squeeze your way in.

The mercenaries were throwing themselves at the passage, but each unsuccessful attack left fewer of them for the next attempt.

“Why didn’t we bring any mages with us?” I asked.

“The living can’t use magic here—no light magic works,” Fattah replied immediately. “Only black magic, and players don’t have access to it. Neither do any of the free peoples, so it doesn’t really matter if you have mages with you. Maybe divine magic would be work, but there aren’t any gods around to try. I did hear that someone got a quest, something about the legacy of the gods, but nobody’s confirmed them—probably just another trick someone was playing. You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

I shrugged. He really did know a lot, and he was curious as all get out.

“Yes, I heard that, too, but I don’t think there’s anything to it. Some kind of gods, some kind of secret quests…”

“Pretty much.” Fattah nodded.

Yet another wave was repulsed from the entrance to the hill, and this time skeletons poured over the cliffs on top of the Free Companies in a concerted effort to crowd them away from the ruins.

A player fell back and landed right at our feet, three skeletons chasing him and his health barely hanging on to this side of the grave.

“Come o-o-n,” he howled, covering himself with his sword.

I caught a blow meant for him with my sword and knocked the skeleton back with my shield. Fattah took on the second, while Torn jumped in front of the third. The brothers, Lane, Ur, and the rest of our squad were already part of the jumble in front of the gates.

“There I was just living my life,” I heard a vaguely familiar voice say from behind me.

I turned around once I’d polished off the skeleton.

“You!” blurted out Joker, emotions from anger to happiness running across his face.

“The very same.” I did my best to keep the schadenfreude I was feeling on the inside.

Maybe next time you’ll think twice about getting other people involved in your problems.

“You think this is easy service?” the scout yelled at me accusingly, a finger pointing in the direction of the slaughter at the gates.

“It happens,” I replied haughtily. “This is the army, son.”

“It’s an animal’s life, pops!” he said, copying my tone. “Do you have a potion?”

“Yeah, right, like I’m going to give you a potion,” I snorted. “Here’s some meat. Go hide behind some rocks, so you don’t get killed.”

“They’re going to kill me anyway.” The scout grimaced, though he took the meat. “We’ll talk over on the other side.”

I didn’t have time to answer before an arrow flew in from nowhere and finished him.

“You knew him?” asked Fattah.

“Sort of,” I responded with a shrug. “I’ll take his things in case we survive—I can give them back to him.”

“What are you standing there for, warriors? You want to be punished as deserters?” Grokkh ran by, badly wounded. “Let’s go!”

“There’s your answer,” Fattah said sarcastically, putting away his sword and pulling his bow off his shoulder. “Onward to glory!”

I grabbed Joker’s things and ran after Torn, who’d already jumped into the mess of humans, dwarves, skeletons, and everything else imaginable.

There was no way to tell who you were supposed to kill in the heat of the battle. All I knew was that working my way into the middle would have been suicide, and so I took on a skeleton that jumped down from the cliff and, sadly, didn’t collapse when he hit the ground. The first group of undead shattered into smithereens, though their remains made for a nice landing pad.

I started to realize why Wanderer was sure the illustrious Hew Orcs, My Axe clan, wouldn’t be successful. A hundred and fifty dwarves, no matter how well-equipped and high-level, simply had no chance of making it to the palace. I figured they probably died right around where we were.

The skeleton wasn’t that strong—there weren’t any strong ones there that I could see, as they were all between Level 40 and Level 43. I had picked up my shield and was looking around for a new target when something hit me. My health dropped precipitously.

The blade that did you damage was covered in a powerful poison! You will lose 1.2 health per second for the next two minutes.

What was that?

“Hagen, behind you!” I heard Lane call.

I spun around to see Falk baring his teeth in a malicious snarl as he held a scimitar in his hand. The blade shone with a sickly green color.

“Well, who’s cracking jokes now? Shall we see who has balls?”

“You rotten bastard!” I was furious.

Unbelievable!

Falk deftly whirled the scimitar, which was longer than he was, and would have slashed into my legs if I hadn’t just barely jumped away in time.

“Wolf Soul,” I barked, pointing the animal in the direction of the goblin. “Bite him!”

Another hit took off 20% of my health. Spinning, I buried my sword in the skeleton that had come up behind me and dipped to my left, anticipating the moment when Falk would finish off my wolf and turn his attention back to me.

Two things happened almost at once: the skeleton collapsed in a pile of bones, and Falk sent my gray friend off to a better world. However, I finished ten seconds sooner than he did. Falk didn’t see the skeleton crawling up behind him, either—its legs had already been lopped off, though that hadn’t seemed to do much to his will to live.

One huge leap left me next to the goblin, and I slammed my sword into him. Falk did his best to avoid the blow, but it ended up taking off a good chunk of his health. The skeleton made good use of the time as well: he pulled a nasty-looking dagger with an undulating blade out of what looked like one of his ribs and buried it in the goblin’s lower back. The latter’s short stature made his back the best target.

Falk howled and instinctively tried to turn around, though that just left his neck open for my sword.

“Hagen, don’t be an idiot!” yelled Fattah.

An idiot, not an idiot—what does it matter? If that big-eared bastard doesn’t die, he’ll kill me. That much was already clear.

Falk collapsed to the ground, his health dangerously low. The skeleton, eyes gleaming, crawled over to his throat.

“Kill him,” muttered Falk. “Kill him! I won’t forg–”

The skeleton buried his teeth in Falk’s throat.

“—et,” I replied, finishing his phrase with a smile. “Okay, then don’t forget it.”

His groan turned into a gurgle, and there was one more corpse by the gates.

“I’ll avenge you, at least,” I said to the dead goblin, slicing through the skeleton’s skull and finishing off any carnivorous intentions he might have had for me.

“Is he dead?” Fattah asked as he ran over, followed by the rest of the squad. Weren’t they supposed to be helping push through to the palace? There weren’t any more skeletons left to leap over the cliffs, and things were looking up for us.

“What do you think?” I replied lightly, not a bit of sarcasm in my voice. “I didn’t have a choice. That was the only thing I could do.”

“I know,” the archer said with a frown. “Though you’re in trouble now—Grokkh is going to kill you. Well, we can hope nobody saw anything.”

“Lane saw. I mean, he saw how that animal stabbed me in the back. He even poisoned me, the bastard. As far as Grokkh is concerned, he may die here, too. Maybe he already has.”

“He poisoned you?” Fattah shook his head. “Open your exchange.”

I didn’t know what he wanted, though I did what he asked me to do. A small beaker full of a dark green liquid fell into my bag.

“Wow,” I said in surprise. “You don’t mind?”

“You can return the favor later,” Fattah responded. “Drink it—you’ll get some health, too.”

I followed his advice and downed the contents of the beaker.

You drank Herbal Mix from the Sumaki Foothills.

You are no longer taking poison damage, and your health has been restored to 75%.

“We’ll push farther now,” noted Fattah. “Though the Ninth Company is our last reserve.”

“The Ninth?” I asked in surprise. “But didn’t they pay for all of them? Or no?”

“The Tenth Company is always held back. If the other companies suffer heavy losses, it’s used to fill them. The Ninth Company is the last one to land on this side of the river.”

The Ninth Company whooped and shouted as it threw itself into the final skeleton resistance, knocking them back behind the ruins of the towers. I looked back at the road leading to the Crisna. It was far from empty: there was a large contingent of Fortune’s Favorites standing there. They watched as mercenaries, NPCs and players alike, fought and died in their service, and they had every right to enjoy the show. They’d paid for our deaths, after all. Mine included.

The Ninth Company got the job done, driving all that was left of the Free Companies up onto the hill.

“Form up,” I heard Captain Singkh order. So he’s still alive. “Keep moving.”

Fattah and I ran over to the gates and lined up on the right flank of the formation. I looked over and saw Lane, Ping, and Pong.

“Where are the rest?” I asked Lane.

“I watched Torn die, Garrak is gone, too. I’m not sure where Ur and Mikos are—they may be alive.”

“Ur is,” said Ping, who was dragging his right leg. “I saw him.”

“Me, too,” confirmed a pale Pong. “He was definitely alive.”

“At least there’s some good news,” I replied.

“I wouldn’t be expecting anything good, not unless nobody saw you kill Falk,” Lane said, coming over and whispering in my ear. “If it helps, I saw him attack you first, though I don’t think that will count for me.”

“I didn’t kill him; a skeleton did,” I responded, looking back at him. “I even avenged him.”

“If you survive, that’s what you should say,” advised Fattah, who was listening in on our conversation.

We soon arrived at the large, closed gate leading to Skull Palace. It was part of the construction’s jaw, and it was guarded by two giants wearing leather trappings. They were a good seven or eight times as tall as I was, much wider, needless to say, and they held enormous hammers in their hands. The rings in their noses highlighted the nasty expressions on their faces.

“Halt! Where are you going?” the one on the right bellowed.

“We’re here to kill the Skeleton Emperor,” Singkh called back.

“That is not permitted. The Emperor’s person cannot be harmed,” the one on the left boomed, his echo resounding around us.

What is this, negotiations? Gunboat diplomacy? I had to wonder what would have happened if we’d said that we just wanted to talk with the Emperor. Would they have let us in?

“Unacceptable,” Singkh said easily. “Kill them.”

They should have let me talk to them.

The giants picked up their hammers and prepared to repulse our attack.

“Form circles around them, and go for their legs—we’ll kill them once they’re on the ground. And stay away from their hammers!” The remaining lieutenants barked out their orders, and among them, I heard Grokkh’s voice. So he’s alive. That’s a shame…

That was my last complete thought on that side of the Crisna. My legs took me forward to obey the command and encircle the giant on the right along with the right wing of our formation, and it was just then that my body was met by his giant hammer. The hammer made it through the encounter unscathed. I did not.

Back in Mettan, I looked down to see the headstone I knew so well. I wasn’t ticketed for the digital heavens with most of the company troops, and there was no reason for me to re-cross the river to rejoin what was left of them. No, I was back where I last saved—and that was something I was awfully happy about.

“Oh, you died, too?” I heard a sad voice say before I noticed its owner. Not far from the headstone sat Joker, dressed in just his underwear, and with a sad, dejected look on his face.

“Yup,” I replied. “Works for me, though—I didn’t like it over there. The food was terrible, and the fun was only so-so. Why are you dressed like that?”

“No money. Payment for the hotel is due, and everything I own is there. This has been the worst week!” Joker sniffed.

“Come on, don’t worry about it. Wait here a minute.”

I walked over to the hotel, casting a glance around the now-empty square. Oh, wait a second. There were a few people hanging around by the gate. A closer look revealed, to my surprise, that they were Hounds. That Fredegar’s on the ball, I guess, though sticking a few people out in clear sight like that seems clumsy. I wondered if I’d overestimated them—perhaps they were a strong clan, but not a very smart one. Anyway, it was none of my business.

Pushing open the door of the hotel, I went in.

Chapter Eight

In which things start to happen that don’t make sense at first glance.

Back in my normal outfit, I felt much better about life. We’re all slaves of habit, after all, and it’s only when we’re in a familiar environment wearing familiar clothes and surrounded by familiar trappings that we feel ourselves.

Joker was sitting on the hotel porch staring at the other side of the Crisna. The battle was still ongoing, though I had to imagine the Free Companies were no longer part of it. Most likely, they were all dead, and I had no idea where I’d be going the next day—the companies were gone. There were probably some other players besides Fattah and me, though I didn’t think we’d make up much more than a few squads. The companies weren’t hugely popular among the gaming community.

“Open your exchange,” I said, sitting down next to Joker.

The money clinked over, and Joker banged a fist into my shoulder before going into the hotel.

I looked around the square. It was still just as empty, still with a few of the Hounds loitering around. Sure, every once in a while, someone would come flying back to the headstone—from the companies, I guessed. They all glanced around the square and headed toward the hotel. Some left it in the direction of the gate; others stayed inside.

There was something that had me on edge, a smell in the air. It was the type of feeling you get when you’re sure something bad is brewing, though you have no idea why. Everything looks normal, at least. But somewhere down below the belt and above the knees you start to get a nervous tic that sends unpleasant shivers up your spine. Your insides all tense up, and your body feels like a spring ready to retaliate or launch a preemptive strike at the first sign of danger.

That’s how I felt. It could have been left over from my trip to Mirastia, and it could have been everything I’d been going through catching up to me. I’d spent the weeks after my long-since-forgotten vacation in Spain working through one in-game problem after another. Not to mention everything I’ve had to deal with in real life…

“The calm before the storm,” Joker said from behind me as he walked out of the hotel.

“What do you mean?” I asked without turning around.

“I always have this feeling right before thunderstorms. Something’s up, and it smells like crap,” he explained. “I don’t see a storm coming, though the feeling’s there.”

Great minds think alike.

“It’s weird that it’s this empty,” I said, expressing my surprise. “I would think the Favorites would be coming back here—a few of them had to have died already.”

Joker grunted. “Not necessarily. They probably linked to their clan fortress, or to wherever they were before they gathered here. There’s nothing for them here except a wasted portal scroll. What’s the point?”

I thought about it and couldn’t help but agree with his logic.

“Hey,” Joker said, plopping down on his spot on the porch, “we still haven’t really met, although we’ve already been through two fights together. Not very nice of us.”

“What did you expect?” I looked at him. “It’s a game, not a dating club, and not everything makes sense all the time. For example, why did I go to bat for you in Maykong? You don’t know, I don’t know, nobody knows. It was just a reflex. Anyway, what would you like me to tell you about myself, my inquisitive friend?”

Joker thought for a second, stopped himself twice, and then suddenly laughed.

“You know, I have no idea,” he admitted. “All the important stuff is right there above your head, so there isn’t much to ask. The only thing that interests me is why you joined the mercenaries, but that’s probably personal—an intimate detail, I’d say.”

“Exactly right,” I replied. “Personal, indeed. And you’re, I take it, on the run?”

“That I am,” the scout replied with a sigh. “I’m actually not a bad guy at all, though for some reason everyone likes to call me a crook. But I’m not; I’m just here to play a role.”

“Screwed up?” I grunted.

“I’m on wanted lists in the East and the North,” Joker sheepishly responded.

“You’re wanted in the North?” That didn’t sound right to me. “Forbidden from showing your face on pain of death—that I could believe. But not a wanted list.”

“They don’t need to forbid it; they’ll just lop your head off and be done with it,” admitted Joker. “In the East, they strangle you with a silk cord. People are so sensitive nowadays—it’s ridiculous.”

“You’re right, I don’t know why people wouldn’t like getting robbed.” I nodded. “Animals.”

“It’s not funny,” Joker replied with a frown.

“I’m not sure I can agree with you there, but we can forget about it. Why haven’t you joined a clan yet?”

“Why should I?” Joker shrugged. “The way I see it, clans are overvalued. You always owe them something, and nobody owes you anything in exchange. What’s the point of that?”

“Not exactly. Clans can do a lot for you in some situations, and in others, they’re absolutely essential.”

“You mean raids, leveling up, stuff like that?” Joker said knowingly. “Sure, you’re right, but that’s only if you’re looking for that type of thing. I couldn’t care less about raids, for example—that’s not why I play the game. I’m a free agent.”

“What’s that?” I was intrigued.

Joker looked around before continuing quietly.

“I buy and sell things, in any currency. You know what I mean.”

Interesting. So, Joker was a bug. I’d read on a forum back when I was first exploring Fayroll that there were players who buy and sell valuable equipment, scrolls, rare reagents, and the like, and that they were called bugs. They were even willing to trade in real money, charging a hefty fee to transfer payment to real-life bank accounts.

“Well, look at you,” I said with a smile. “So you’ll buy anything?”

“I don’t need ten raccoon pelts or dead goblin ears,” he replied, smiling back at me, “though I take pretty much anything elite and higher—I’ll even give you my friends-and-family discount. You won’t get as much as you would at the auction, of course, though you’ll get the money immediately. At least, almost immediately.”

“Almost?” My right eyebrow shot up.

“If I don’t have enough on me right then, you get the rest mailed to you. Almost immediately.”

“Who mails it?” I asked innocently.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Joker guffawed at my childish trap, screwing up his face and continuing in a whisper. “Santa Claus.”

Then, back in his normal tone, he continued.

“All joking aside, if you need to buy or sell something, I’d be happy to help. Like I said, I’ll give you a good deal either way.”

“Isn’t it a bit premature to offer that to someone you barely know?” That intrigued me most of all. “What if I work for the admin? Or rat you out to them?”

“So what? There’s no official ban on trading, and they wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway. They could do some things to make life miserable for me, but that would just be for a little while. It would be nice to get away from the game and relax a little. Plus, you don’t work for the admin—I can tell you’re a good guy.”

He was the kind of person it’s good to know. After all, sooner or later, my job in the game would be done, and I’d need to get rid of everything I’d accumulated. Certainly won’t be giving it to the clan, that’s for sure! That’s when I’d need Joker. Still, he was a strange little boy. It was big business, but his hotel room wasn’t paid for? Although…things happen in life.

“You’re a tricky guy,” I said to Joker approvingly. “Tricky, indeed.”

“What isn’t tricky in Firewall?” Joker shot back. “Life stops being straightforward when you leave Noobland. Wait, what’s that?”

He stood halfway up and squinted toward the river. I joined him, noticing one of the rafts sailing back from the other side.

“What’s that?” repeated Joker, pursing his lips. “I’ve never seen wounded players taken back over the river. Ridiculous…”

I don’t know about that. It makes for good PR—it’s barely even a stretch. If they were working with a delegate in the State Duma getting him ready for the election, they’d already have a slogan ready. Let’s see… For example, “Fortune’s Favorites: Everyone Gets Back Alive.” Or “You’re never alone when you’re with Fortune’s Favorites.” On the other hand, it really was the dumbest thing I’d seen in the game. Even if healers couldn’t do anything on the other side of the river, there was nothing wrong with throwing back a few potions. In a word, ridiculous…

“Seriously,” was all I said out loud. Joker may have trusted me, but that certainly didn’t mean I trusted him.

A couple minutes later the raft got to the wharf, dumping its load of three dozen wounded warriors on the bank. They were all mid-level, and they were wearing an assortment of armor—your average contingent of players, the same thing you’d get with any major clan. Some would move up the ranks, others would stay right where they were. It was all up to them.

“How’s it going over there?” Joker asked them. “Did they take the fortress?”

The group straggled over toward the hotel, and I got the distinct impression that they weren’t even sure why they’d been given a return ticket. One of them stopped to reply to the scout.

“Yep. We took out the giants and broke into the fortress, but it’s brutal in there…”

“Are the Free Companies all dead?” I asked.

“Who knows?” another of the wounded replied. “Some may still be alive, though it was a mess…”

Joker looked at me and earned himself an assurance.

“Don’t worry, they won’t forget about us, even if the officers are all dead. They’ll still find us and put us back to work.”

His response was a deep sigh.

“What, they didn’t finish you off over there? Falling down on the job!”

The exclamation surprised me, though that was nothing compared to the surprise I felt when I looked around the town square.

Through the gate, which was always open, poured warriors from the Hounds of Death. It was one of them who we’d heard, and he was ready to back up his statement with steel. In a matter of minutes, eight or so of the wounded arrivals were sent off to their next lives. They were picked up, dragged out of the gate, and butchered. The victims didn’t even put up a fight, as their experiences over the past half-hour had them in a state of shock. After getting their fill of the massacre, after all, they’d been sent back—hang in there, bro, you just relax and wait for the nurse to come around.

And then they’d been trotted out and slammed down on their knees to have their heads lopped off. It wasn’t normal.

The remainder stood back-to-back and got ready to fight back, though I didn’t think much of their chances. The Hounds took the five who put up the most resistance out of the gate and made an example of them. The rest were roped into a huddle and had their swords knocked out of their hands.

I quickly turned on my built-in camera, and, judging by his momentarily glassy eyes, Joker did the same.

One of the first people I recorded was Miurat as he ambled in through the gate. He was accompanied by Romuil, and he walked directly to the wounded, cursing Favorites.

I wasn’t about to try my luck, so I quickly stepped away from the porch and into the shadow of a poplar. They couldn’t see me; I could see them.

“‘Fortune’s Favorites,’” Miurat said, shaking his head dubiously. “I’ll be honest, it’s not the best name for you—I wouldn’t say you look the part right about now. Finish them off, all except for a few I can talk to. Leave that one there, and that one. Kill the rest.”

Cries rang out immediately.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Guys, it’s just a game!”

“What’s with the genocide?”

“You’re dead; I’m telling you right now!”

“I’m going to find you in real life, and you’re going to bathe in blood!”

Their shouts didn’t last long, as the Hounds were professionals. Soon just about all of the Favorites were dead.

“This is crazy,” Joker hissed in my ear. “I’ve never heard of anything like this happening.”

“Are you recording it?” I whispered back.

“Of course. It’ll go viral—I’m going to make so much money with the recording. Incredible!”

“Take it easy, and don’t sell it without me. I know who will give you the best price.”

Joker nodded his agreement, though a closer look left him with something else to tell me.

“Look, that guy over there by the gate is recording, too.”

Someone named Gronny was standing there, his head turning slowly from side to side as he tried to capture everything that was going on.

“Well, my friends, would you like to live?” Miurat asked the last of the Favorites.

“Oh, cut the crap,” responded one of them. “Been watching too many war movies? You’re going to answer for all this, and so is your clan. Just wait—the rest of our troops will be here in two, at most five minutes.”

“My clan could bend the whole continent over anyway we wanted,” Miurat replied, laughing in his face. “You and all the rest of the players would be on all fours in front of us, no matter your gender.”

Well, then. It appears I underestimated you before the battle, gentlemen. You’re still good people, though you did miss someone. Fredegar, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes…

“This is bizarre,” the second captive added. “I’ve talked with some of yours, and even gone on raids even though our clans don’t like each other. But that’s the clans’ business, not ours. You have some great people. But this…”

Miurat’s sword flashed twice, two cocoons landing on the dirt of the square.

“They were right, we don’t have much time,” he said quickly. “Svirt, Knorr, Pochemuchka, watch the river and the entrance to make sure we don’t have any surprises. Rex, Nigel, Monty, Treska, Toxo, load the ones we tied up onto the raft and send them back to the other side. Once they’re on their way, go down along the river and port back to the base.”

A few Hounds brought three or four players back through the gates, and I recognized them as Free Company soldiers who’d died on the other side of the Crisna, gotten dressed in the hotel, and left the city.

Whoa. What Miurat was doing wouldn’t have occurred to even the nastiest clans.

“Screw them,” Joker whispered, adding a few curses for good measure. “They’re going to see us, and we’ll be goners. I don’t care, but it would be a shame to lose what I have with me…”

“Agreed, though it’s a shame we won’t be able to see the end of the show. Follow me!”

I didn’t have to whisper the last phrase, as the Hounds were already turning to see me bounding toward the hotel.

“Grab them!” Miurat barked, though it was too late. I got the key to my room, Joker hot on my heels.

I was already halfway up the stairs when I heard the outside door bang.

Joker wants to add you as a friend.

Accept?

Of course. I could tell that we had some interesting times ahead of us. But what is that bastard Miurat up to?

I opened up my friend list to see that Milly had found the time to log out of the game.

My internal mailbox dinged, and I saw that Joker had sent me a message.

“What the hell is happening?”

I quickly responded.

Sit there and don’t move until I give you the green light. And don’t write a word to anybody about what you saw. About what’s happening, if you don’t know, you at least have a good guess, so don’t pretend like you don’t. Congratulations on picking a winning lottery ticket.

Screw that, I’m just looking to stay alive. Okay, I’ll be waiting for you.

I wished there were windows in the hotel—it would have been nice to see what was going on. But who should I write? Not Turok, obviously…

Ding! It was Miurat.

Come on down. I give you my word, nobody wants to hurt you. Well, at least, nobody wants to, so long as you come down. If you don’t… You know our clan, you know our leader, and you know what she thinks of people who get in the way of clan policy. If we’re doing something, that means it needs to be done. Miurat.

Like I was going to take that bait. The best approach in situations like that, I’d found, was to avoid the whole thing. I did, however, need to get in touch with the Hounds—fast. Damn it, I really don’t want to do this, but…

Elina, hi.

There’s something strange going on in Mettan, and we have to let the Hounds of Death know about it. Please tell the Gray Witch that Miurat is off his rocker and causing major problems for their clan. I’m in the hotel, I can’t leave. Hagen.

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

Give me the details—what’s going on? I’m not about to write the Witch just because one of the most eccentric members of my clan imagines he saw something that may not warrant the least bit of attention.

Elina, this is in the interests of the clan. Write her and say that there’s a problem here. Believe me, it’s true. I’ll swear by whatever you want; it’s better that you don’t know what’s going on. And please don’t come yourself.

‘In the interests of the clan.’ Well, look at you. I don’t trust you in the least, but it doesn’t sound like you’re lying, especially since Miurat is involved. But I want to meet with you once everything’s done.

P.S. I hope you won’t have any stinking beards or crazy knights with you this time.

Well, I’d done everything I could.

Ding!

Judging by the fact that you haven’t answered, it looks like you’ve made your choice. See you soon—very soon. Miurat.

If I was right about everything, the best option for me was to run South as fast as I could and only leave the company base for missions or when surrounded by fellow soldiers. The only problem was that all my fellow soldiers were dead. And everything was going so well.

My mailbox dinged again.

Hi, Hagen. You can come out of the hotel, we took care of everything. Turok.

I was happy to hear the news, though I decided to leave Joker sitting in his room. It was safer that way.

Miurat and his warriors were nowhere to be seen. The empty square that had so surprised me was also a thing of the past, however. In its place was a crowd of angry, cursing Fortune’s Favorites on the verge of clashing with fifty Hounds that showed no interest in a fight. Fredegar was trying to explain something to them.

“They killed me! Do you have any idea how much experience I lost?”

“You Hounds take the cake!”

“What do you mean, you didn’t have anything to do with it? Who did? Do you think we killed ourselves? Everyone saw—it was your clanmates!”

“Whatever you’re up to is way over the line. Something out of the Middle Ages—I’m going to report you to the admin!”

“Oh, we’ll show you who’s in charge of Fayroll!”

“We should slaughter them where they stand!”

Fredegar saw me, nodded almost imperceptibly, and bellowed at the crowd.

“Listen up, everyone who was hurt by what happened. You can lodge your complaints with your clan leaders, who will complain to us if they like. If that is the case, we will discuss compensation. As far as we’re concerned, we’re leaving the city. Open a portal.”

He glanced at me as he said the last word. Got it. He was concerned about leaving me behind, which was both touching and scary. Whatever. Time to get out of here.

Joker, come on out, let’s go for a walk.

He looked out of the door cautiously before coming over to me.

“Protesters?” He motioned with his head in the direction of the angry players, several of which were standing there in their underwear. Miurat, apparently, had grabbed their belongings.

“Not happy. Oh, well that’s interesting!”

A portal flashed, and some high-level players wearing gorgeous, and therefore expensive armor walked out, mad as hornets.

“Fredegar!” yelled one named Sveneld. “Tell me why I shouldn’t slit your throat—why the hell did your clanmates ruin our raid? What’s going on? Tying players up and sending them over to the other side, so the skeletons start respawning—are you kidding me? I’ve seen some dirty clans, but this takes the cake. Put it this way: you’re finished if I have anything to do with it. Plus—and you can pass this on to the Witch—I’m going to be contacting the game admin. This is unacceptable.”

“You’re welcome to do so,” Fredegar replied calmly as he opened a portal.

“Time to go,” I said to Joker, following the Hound intelligence officer’s lead.

***

Fredegar was waiting for us on the other side with a business-like order.

“Follow me.”

Once again, I traipsed the kilometers-worth of corridors crisscrossing the Hounds’ citadel, though this time, we were accompanied by Joker’s oohs, aahs, and admiring comments.

Fredegar ran off with an apology, once he’d gotten us into the mistress’s office.

“Hi,” the Gray Witch said from the threshold. “It’s good to see you.”

“Not with the news I have, believe me.”

“I already know the basics,” the Witch said, quickly getting down to business. “What exactly did you see?”

“Everything that happened in the square,” I replied proudly.

“I saw it all, too,” agreed Joker. “And I didn’t just see it!”

The Gray Witch looked him over before turning back to me.

“This is Joker, a friend of mine. He really did see everything,” I replied. “I figured it would be best to keep my eye on him, rather than having him run off somewhere to tell everyone what he saw.”

“Agreed,” the Gray Witch said quickly. “It’s nice to meet you, Joker. So you saw everything?”

“You’re telling me,” blurted out Joker. “Wow, your people are crazy! They killed them, ruined the Fortune’s Favorites' raid, and almost took us out, too.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” said the Gray Witch. “Slow down, and tell me in order who saw what. Then we’ll have a picture of the whole thing.”

“No point wasting time on all that,” I responded. “Here.”

I sent her the file before continuing.

“Joker has another version, though the only difference is the perspective. You can negotiate that with him since he doesn’t have an understanding with you like I do.”

“Are you talking about the file I recorded?” asked Joker nervously. He was obviously thinking about what those “negotiations” might look like.

“Okay, Joker, you know who I am and where you are, and I imagine you’ve guessed that the massacre of the Fortune’s Favorites was a provocation. One way or another, we’re going to prove that to the gaming community and, if need be, the game admin. You can sell the file to whoever you want or upload it to share online, both of which are well within your rights, and we won’t do anything to you if that’s what you choose. However, if you give it to me, you’ll have the appreciation of my clan, a reward, and my personal thanks. Think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?” Joker was a quick thinker. “I’d be happy to give you the file, and for the sole reason that I could never refuse such a beautiful woman as yourself.”

“Well done, you could go far if you find a good clan. Ours, for instance. But, still, I won’t let you go without a gift. Flavio!” The mistress clapped.

The familiar young man quickly appeared in the door.

“Take my good friend Joker to the small storehouse and let him pick out anything he wants. Joker, please don’t be afraid to take anything that catches your eye.”

Joker assured us that he wouldn’t dream of it before walking off with Flavio.

“Is there anything else I need to know before I watch this?” The mistress asked me.

“Of course. There’s a third version.”

“Who has it?” the Witch asked.

“I have no idea—somebody named Gronny. I’d never seen him before.”

“Gronny, Gronny…” The Witch snapped her fingers. “I remember someone with that name.”

There was a knock on the door, and Fredegar walked in without waiting for an answer.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” he roared.

“Our clan got thirty or forty members smaller,” the Gray Witch answered as calmly and quietly as ever. “Am I wrong?”

Chapter Nine

In which the start and finish are very different.

“No…” Fredegar responded uncertainly.

“How do you think I know?” the Gray Witch asked the scout, a touch of indolence in her voice.

The look on Fredegar’s face made me wonder how much he actually wanted to know. Although to be fair, I may have been wrong.

“I guessed,” the Witch said with a clap. “Imagine that! I guessed.”

“Your intuition has always been right on the money,” mumbled Fredegar.

“True,” the Witch agreed. “I can’t disagree with you there, my intuition is excellent. My intelligence is awful, but my intuition is excellent. And I have good friends.” Her hand swept around in a semi-circle that ended in my direction, causing me to shift in discomfort. “People I can depend on, and people, you’ll note, who aren’t even in my clan. So, I have everything except intelligence. And here I thought I did!”

“Things happen,” Fredegar said in a low voice.

“Agreed!” The Witch nodded her head, exaggerating the gesture. “Things happen. Roosters lay eggs; you get venereal diseases from virgins; and even civil servants turn out to be honest and selfless people serving our country rather than their own pockets. Okay, so that one is a bit far-fetched. But even it happens! But for a head of clan intelligence to miss almost fifty people planning a revolt, well, that can’t happen.”

Fredegar was stunned silent, and even I felt awkward—an unusual feeling for me. Nobody likes watching other people argue…

“How?” the Witch asked quietly. “How could you miss it? How did Miurat even happen to be there? I gave you a clear order to make sure nobody gave the Fortune’s Favorites any trouble, and I even had you send a few people to Mettan so they could keep an eye on things and nip them in the bud if they turned sour.”

“And I sent them,” Fredegar answered sullenly. “Miurat and his crew.”

The Witch threw up her arms.

“With almost fifty people?”

“What’s wrong with that?” The scout’s voice was getting quieter and quieter. “He said that would be better, just in case anything happened.”

“And then he put together a show like that, and now we have to figure out what to do… They could lodge all kinds of complaints, from ruining their raid to atrocities, to damages…anything!”

Raid results

Your participation amounted to 0.014% of the total.

Performance: 4 opponents killed, 1 friendly killed

Because you were killed, you receive no reward for battle or penalties for killing a friendly.

Reward for successfully completing the raid:

25 gold

500 experience as your bonus for the battle and victory

Points collected toward the hidden bonus: 39 of 1000

“Oh, wow, the raid was a success,” I told the Hounds in surprise. “They finished it just now.”

“Really?” The mistress said happily. “That changes things a bit. I’m glad they did it. We’ll still have issues, but at least we can try to push back on that one.”

“You think they’ll argue with you about it? It sounded to me like they have their sights set much higher,” I noted.

“I don’t think our clan’s plan of action should really concern you much,” the scout said gently.

“Fredegar, if I were you, I’d sooner go run and find Hagen a gift and a thank-you for what he did for us and you personally rather than try to put him in his place. He partially made up for your mistake, in case you haven’t figured that out yet. And he certainly didn’t have to.”

The scout stood there for a second before leaving the office. The Witch followed him out with a rather unpleasant gaze.

***

“One thing I don’t understand,” I said in an attempt to ease the tension in the air, “is why the Favorites didn’t leave anyone to stand guard.”

“I can only see two possible reasons,” the Gray Witch responded quickly. “First, they probably assumed—as would have any other clan, including ours—that nobody would even think to violate the unwritten rules of the game. Everyone knows that clans are untouchable when they’re on a raid. Or I guess we should say, everyone knew that. It looks like the unwritten rules don’t mean anything anymore, which puts us in uncharted water.”

She walked over to her collection of symbols representing enemy clans and started pulling them off the board.

“And the second possibility?” I asked, prompting her after waiting for a bit.

“As if you don’t know what it is. You’re the clever one. Why haven’t you figured it out?”

“Well, maybe I have, maybe I haven’t,” I fidgeted. “I have an idea…”

“And? Out with it.” Six symbols dropped into a basket.

“They already knew it would happen. Maybe not all of them, but somebody—and not just some swordsman, either.”

“Exactly!” The Witch pointed a finger upward. “Although that’s pretty obvious, and the most obvious solutions usually aren’t the right ones.”

“But something’s not right,” I said, staring at the mistress. “If this was just a reason to start a war, they would have declared it already. Although…”

I realized that I might not have been right and cut myself off.

“Not necessarily,” the Gray Witch responded with a shake of her head. “It looks like you have an idea?”

“Well, yes. They may have already declared war, though not a war of strength—an information war.”

“Bingo.” The Gray Witch smiled. “Let me just make one small change: it isn’t a war of strength yet. ‘Yet’ is the key word there.”

“You think it’ll come to that?” Her tranquility shocked me.

“I’m sure it will—that’s why they formed their alliance. Well, that’s one of the reasons; I imagine there are three of them. But that, my friend, is where I’d like to finish our discussion of that topic. I hope you don’t mind.”

I shrugged. “Why would I? And hey, the less you know, the better you sleep.”

“Why did you join the Free Companies, by the way? It’s hard work from what I’ve been told.” The Witch’s question took me by surprise.

“I needed to get to the South, and that was the fastest way,” I replied, giving her a nearly honest answer.

“The fastest way?” The Witch whistled. “You could have just written me, and I’d have sent you South no problem.”

“No, I’m not going to be bothering you for little stuff like that. And it really isn’t that bad, though getting out is brutal. If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, yes?” the Witch asked. “What’s so hard about it? That wasn’t a problem before.”

“It’s more expensive than hard,” I said with a sigh. “You either serve out your year or pay 50,000 gold. I don’t have that kind of money, so it looks like I’ll be there a while.”

“Fifty grand? Pff!” the Witch snorted. “Just let our clan take care of it for you. Please, that’s nothing…”

“Oh, no, I’m enjoying it for now. The experience is good, and the money’s not bad either. Plus, it keeps me out of Miurat’s clutches.”

“You think he wants to get his hands on you?” She squinted at me.

“He promised to, at least,” I said, sighing again. “It wasn’t so much a threat, just…”

“If he promised, he’ll do it. That’s the kind of person he is,” the Witch said, making me feel so much better. “I wonder what he wants from you.”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. Not a clue.”

Someone knocked at the door, and Fredegar walked in before the Witch could answer.

“Hagen,” he said grandly, “thank you for what you did today for the Hounds of Death as well as for me personally. Please allow me the honor of giving you something I think you’ll find a use for in the game.”

“I hope it’s something nice?” The Gray Witch looked at her clan mate dubiously.

“I talked it over with Cedric just to make sure,” Fredegar said with a wave. “By the way, he’s in the hallway waiting for an audience. I traded two of my things to Pshik in the clan storehouse so he’d give me this. Hagen, open your exchange and send me a copper coin.”

Thoroughly intrigued by what he was going to give me, I decided not to play games, instead simply opening my exchange and sending Fredegar the coin he asked for. He winked, and a nondescript black belt popped up in my inventory. It was heavy, decorated with engraved…roses! You’re kidding!

Black Rose Belt

Belonged to one of the great warriors of the past, the Black Rose Knight. His devotion to his suzerain was so strong that, following the latter’s death in battle, he killed himself, holding himself to blame. His body was buried near the grave of his lord at his request.

From the Knightly Collection set

Set includes:

Wilfred’s Helmet

Sir Nigel’s Pauldrons

Sir Adrian’s Gauntlets

Molton’s Cuirass

Black Rose Belt

Mihal’s Greaves

+35 to strength

+31 to agility

+14% chance of avoiding critical wounds

+16% chance of disarming your opponent

+9% to abilities that have to do with the use of your shield

+7% running speed

Durability: 2400/2400

Minimum level for use: 92

Class limitation: warrior

Cannot be stolen, lost, broken, or gifted.

Does not disappear from the holder’s inventory after dying when coupled with at least two other items from the set.

The following bonuses are unlocked by using the complete set:

Three random active class abilities

Two random passive class abilities

+3 to one random attribute

+15% to your chances of getting items from dead enemies

+13% life energy

Yes! A fourth item from my set! At least there was some benefit to the crazy life I was leading. All I had left to do was make the short hop to Level 92.

“He’s a fan,” the Witch noted with a smile. “Nice work. What did you give him?”

Fredegar whispered quietly in her ear, apparently telling her about his gift.

“Hmm…I don’t think you're poor enough to be that excited about a simple set item,” the mistress remarked shrewdly. “Although, what difference does it make? You’re happy, and that’s the important thing. Where are you going now?”

“Headed back to the companies,” I said, shrugging. “Where else? Maybe some of them survived. Even if they didn’t, though, they’ll reform the companies. Fattah and I will be veterans.”

“Fattah?” asked Fredegar. “Is he a player, too?”

I nodded. “Yep, and a good guy. We already became friends. Thanks so much for the present—it’s fantastic. I could jump for joy!”

“You got it,” Fredegar replied, and I could tell that he was tickled pink. “If you don’t mind, let’s get together in the next couple days for a chat. I wouldn’t mind meeting your Fattah either.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Fredegar wants to add you as a friend.

Accept?

I clicked accept only to have the interface pop up again.

The Gray Witch wants to add you as a friend.

Accept?

“I don’t think Elina needs to know about everything that goes on,” the Witch said, a smile barely creasing her face. “Better write me directly in the future.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “That’ll be faster. Okay, I’m off. I just need to find my friend…”

“He’s right on the other side of the door,” Fredegar said with a laugh. “He’s coming to his senses after seeing our small clan storehouse.”

“He sent you the file?” the Witch asked the rogue.

The latter nodded, adding a quick clarification. “And he erased his copy; I made sure with some powder.”

I sneezed, remembering the truth powder. Can’t stand that stuff.

“Thanks again, Hagen.” The Gray Witch came over to me. “I’m happy I have friends like you who are always willing to help, not even thinking about what’s in it for them or wondering how their actions could do a good turn for others.”

“Always at your service, mistress,” I said, bowing my head, only for it to be filled suddenly with the thought of who else might have had an interest in the commotion. What if there’s a third party out there? Somebody invisible, somebody right now in the shadows, somebody who’s giving orders because they have the right to—because they pay to have their orders carried out. I didn’t say that out loud, figuring that the other people in the room were at least as intelligent as I was—probably much more so.

“And now let’s talk about what I’m going to do with you,” I heard the Gray Witch say just before the door closed.

Poor Fredegar. Sure, he’d screwed up, but I felt bad for him nonetheless.

Cedric Sekira was standing near the entrance to the Gray Witch’s office. “How is it in there?” he asked, skipping the greeting and nodding toward the closed door.

I pantomimed first suffocating myself and then slitting my throat.

“Seriously?” He frowned, and I nodded in reply.

Cedric crossed himself, knocked on the door, and went in.

“You know, you’re a good friend to have,” I heard Joker say. The scout was sitting on his heels against the other wall, where he was spinning a dagger in his hand. The blue and red flashes coming from the blade matched his smile.

“It’s incredible,” he said, giving it another spin. “I tend to have pretty good stuff, and my work sees all kinds of things pass through my hands, though I’ve never seen anything like this. I’m thrilled!”

“All’s well that ends well,” I agreed.

“What’d you get?” Joker asked with an innocent expression on his face.

“A very big thank-you,” I replied, giving him an unbelievably honest look.

“How big?” the scout asked stubbornly.

“Three kisses on each cheek, a clap on the back, and a ‘well done.’”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Joker replied, apparently without taking the least offense. “I don’t really like showing off my things either.”

“Then what’s that about?” I glanced at the dagger.

“What’s the point of hiding it from you? If you wanted to know what I picked, you could have just asked your friends. You’re cool though. I wouldn’t have thought someone at Level 50 wearing what you’re wearing would be on such good terms with the Gray Witch. We definitely need to be friends. I may not have tea parties with the heads of the top guilds, but I do have good connections in the underworld. Like I said, buy, sell, find things out, hire people.”

“Why didn’t you use your connections in Maykong? How’d you get in trouble?” I squinted at him dubiously.

Joker sighed. “It happens…”

“Okay, my friend,” I said, emphasizing that last word, “let’s head back to the camp. Maybe they’ll tell us something about the raid. I’m interested to hear what happened. They told you to keep your mouth shut about where we were and what you saw, right?”

“That’s just the half of it.” He’d obviously been given the full rundown. “Not a word to anyone.”

“Excellent.”

***

It was oddly quiet at headquarters. Nobody was running anywhere, there were no corporals or lieutenants yelling orders, and there weren’t any warriors tramping through portals to rescue villages in need. It was empty, deserted, and dreary.

“Wow, everyone’s dead,” Joker murmured as we walked between two barracks.

“That’s pretty much the size of it,” we heard Fattah say from around a corner. A second later, he appeared.

“Fattah! It’s great to see you on this side of the grave,” I said.

“Good to see you, too,” the elf replied as calmly as ever. “Hey, what happened on the human side of the Crisna? I have no idea what went down in Mettan, and I’d rather not remember what happened in the Emperor’s palace—the night of the living dead.”

“It was crazy,” Joker said with a wild gesture. “Unbelievable!”

Fattah raised his right eyebrow inquisitively.

“Joker, why don’t I tell him?” I said, worried that he might blurt out something he shouldn’t. Fattah was one of us, of course, but still…

I gave him the lite version, avoiding most of the details and taking care to emphasize that we jumped into the hotel before we could see how things wrapped up.

“And as soon as everything calmed down, we came down here. We must have just missed each other,” I said in conclusion, quickly asking a question to make sure Fattah couldn’t ask any of his own. “So what happened on that side of the river? After that monster knocked me out with his hammer, I mean…”

“I didn’t see you get killed,” Fattah replied, rubbing his temples. “We got the two giants ourselves, though half of what was left from the Free Companies died in the process. Once that was done, I don’t think you could have come up with a single company between us. Then the gates came crashing down, which was when the clan jumped in. They told us to guard the entrance, so that’s what we did. Ten minutes later all the undead we’d already killed started coming back to life—including the two giants. Singkh gave the command to close the gate, and we headed toward the throne room.”

Fattah fell silent.

“And?” I asked.

“And what? It was hell in the corridors, or at least something like it. The dead started coming out of the piles of bones, collecting themselves like Transformers and throwing themselves at us. It was a massacre in the throne room. There was no taking out the clan, obviously, but they had a much harder time when everything started respawning. Their main group had just gotten to the Emperor, too…”

“How was there room for all of them?” Joker rubbed the bridge of his nose in surprise. “Was the throne room really that big?”

“Just think of a soccer field,” Fattah said, glancing at him. “And now imagine four of them, with people fighting across every square inch.”

“Brutal.” Joker was impressed.

“As soon as they killed the Emperor, the portals opened, and everyone jumped in—some to their fortresses, others to Mettan. The clan leadership went to Mettan, presumably to deal with that whole incident.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “So our guys are all dead?”

“No, actually. At least, there’s some good news,” Fattah replied, cheering me up. “Lane, Ur, and the brothers somehow managed to survive. I was shocked. Other squads were wiped out; there are only four players left in the Third Company.”

“Really?” I was overjoyed to hear the news. “So half our squad survived? Well, with me, more than half!”

“Yep. Sure, we don’t have a commander, but I imagine that situation will be remedied soon. Grokkh survived, too, and he was asking around to see if anyone saw what happened to his goblin.”

“And?” The topic was a serious one, and I had to be ready for anything.

“Nobody saw anything, but that doesn’t mean you can let down your guard.”

“Of course. All right, who’s going where?”

“I’m headed offline,” Joker said with a wave.

“Me, too, I think,” I replied with a sigh. “I need a break.”

“And I—” Fattah started to say something, though he was interrupted by a bossy roar.

“You warriors are only going to decide who goes where after you get permission from your commander!”

The three of us turned to see Grokkh, his eyes bloodshot and his tone livid.

“Yes, sir, Master Lieutenant!” Fattah and I barked in unison. Joker stood to attention and eyed Grokkh warily. He wasn’t his commander, but there was no sense arguing.

“Listen up, warriors! Because of the heavy losses sustained by all nine of the companies, we’re taking the time to fit up and reform. All combat missions are canceled for five days, though you will be paid as usual. Questions?”

“Do we have to be here for the five days?” I asked quickly.

“No, you can use passes,” Grokkh said grudgingly. “Anything else?”

“No questions, Master Lieutenant,” I answered.

“You and I, warrior, are going to have a talk,” Grokkh said, jabbing a finger at my chest before heading toward the command post. We could see a couple figures moving around in it.

“Excellent,” Joker said, rubbing his hands. “Then, gentlemen, I’m off. I changed my mind about heading offline.”

He opened a portal and jumped into it.

“It’ll be great to get some sleep,” Fattah said. “See you.”

His figure melted away in front of me as he logged out. I stood there for a second, lost in thought, before walking toward the barracks.

My comrades didn’t make for a pretty picture. The brothers were in especially bad shape, their clothes practically drenched in blood. Ur was sharpening his sword, his head bandaged, and Lane was lounging on his cot as usual.

“Well, my friends, are we living?”

“Oh, Hagen,” Ur replied, looking up at me. “I’m glad you’re alive, too.”

“I have no idea how you pulled that off, though,” Ping said as he cradled his right arm. “I saw how hard that thing hit you.”

“Brutal,” Pong gasped. There were rags wrapped around his entire left arm. “That was nasty.”

“It happens,” I replied meaningfully. “But I’m here to tell the story. Lane, how are you?”

“Better than Torn and Garrak, not as good as the Sultan of the East,” he responded phlegmatically.

“Could I have a word with you?” I waited until he jumped down before walking out the door with him.

“We have five days off,” I started.

“I’m aware,” Lane replied with a nod. “The price is the same: 600 gold.”

I looked at him askance, surprise written over my face.

“Hagen, I prefer to keep the talking to a minimum. You need me, and probably Ur, to take you to some other field so you can pick some more flowers. If the money’s the same as last time, that won’t be a problem. Deal?”

Of course. Cheap and effective.

“Perfect. I’ll be here tomorrow after lunch, and the same goes: not a word to anyone.”

“Don’t worry, we can keep our mouths shut. It’s in our best interests, too,” Lane replied as he headed back to the barracks. That wrapped up everything I needed to get done that day, so I left, figuring that my squad mates could get by without a goodbye.

***

I woke up because I couldn’t breathe, and the first two things I saw were Vika’s beautiful, crazy eyes. She had my nose squeezed between her fingers and was smiling evilly.

“What are you doing?” my muffled voice asked.

“You were sleeping forever,” she replied innocently. “It’s morning, the sun is shining, the roosters crowed a long time ago. Time to get up!”

“You can make the roosters into soup for all I care,” I grumbled. “Why do I have to get up? The car won’t be getting here before ten.”

“What car?” The smile disappeared from her face. “Why?”

“What car? I don’t know, probably something nice. It’ll be coming to take me over to Zimin’s office, though I’m not exactly sure why. His highness would like to chat with me about something. I hope it won’t be too tricky.”

“And here I thought we’d be going to work together,” Vika replied, scrunching her nose in frustration.

“Man can plan, but God decides. I’m afraid Maxim wouldn’t take my absence too kindly if the only argument I had was that you wanted us to go to work together.”

Vika sighed again. “I know.”

***

The car was, in fact, a nice one, the roads were clear for once, and I was standing outside Zimin’s office at 10 of 11, where I kept a cautious eye on his secretary. Her bright red nails got me thinking that I might be her next innocent victim.

“Kif, hi!” Valyaev said as he popped out of the office next door. “What are you just standing there for?”

“I was told to wait here, since our meeting’s at 11,” I complained, glancing at the secretary for effect. “That’s what she said.”

“Eliza, you need to relax.” Valyaev went over to the majestic, bloodthirsty woman and flicked her nose. “Max and I like this guy, and you know that. What kind of problems are you looking for?”

“We have a schedule to keep,” Eliza replied, completely ignoring the untoward attention her nose was getting. “But if you don’t want everything done correctly and on time, then you’re welcome to do it yourself.”

“Let’s go.” Valyaev opened the door and pushed me into Zimin’s office. “Max, Eliza had him waiting outside the door.”

“At least she postponed our young friend’s date with death for another ten minutes,” Zimin replied. He was looking out the window, his back to us.

Chapter Ten

In which the hero spends most of his time talking through tough issues.

Surprisingly, nothing inside blanched. I was probably so used to the idea that playing with Raidion would end something like that, that I didn’t even feel scared. In my head, I started going through what Zimin could have against me: I lied a little about the landlord’s crown…I drank at work…I kind of felt bad for Stavros…

Just then, something snapped against my chin. It was Valyaev’s hand. “Got you!” he laughed.

Zimin joined in as he turned away from the window. “Sorry, Kif, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, holding his arms out. “That’s a favorite joke of mine, and it always works.”

“Very funny,” I muttered. “You scared me half to death.”

“Kif, Kif,” Valyaev said, wagging his finger reproachfully, “how could you think of us like that? Who do you think we are?”

“I’m more interested in hearing what our friend has on his conscience,” Zimin noted reasonably. “He was obviously trying to think of why we’d be looking to kill him, so there must be something. Confess your sins and repent!”

“I’m basically a priest.” Valyaev rolled a paper up into a sort of hat, put it on his head, plastered a compassionate look on his face, and bent deeply at the waist, obviously imitating someone. “In the name…ha-ha…in his name, I command you to repent of your sins and save your soul, or it will be cast into the pit of hell!”

I frowned.

“Come on, you have to know where to draw the line. Anyway, let’s stop with the jokes.” Zimin tapped Valyaev’s back with a bent finger. “Why did we ask him to stop by?”

“Oh, right,” Valyaev tossed the paper in the trash and sat down, the smile instantaneously vanishing from his face.

“Kif, old boy,” he continued penetratingly, “what made you join the Free Companies?”

“Or who?” Zimin chimed in, also sitting down. Neither of them offered me a chair.

“I just needed to,” I replied with complete honesty. “I needed to get to the South since that’s where the last part of the quest is. The Wild Brigade was the fastest and cheapest way to get down there that I could think of, and—”

“He’s telling the truth,” Valyaev cut in, looking at Zimin. “I’d bet my right arm on it. We overthought the whole thing.”

I had precious little idea what they were talking about save for the fact that I’d apparently managed to give them the right answer.

“And it’s a good thing, too,” Zimin replied with satisfaction. “I knew Kif was one of us. You’re one of us, right?”

“Who else’s would I be?” I shrugged. “I work for you, that’s what you pay me for. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that you ended up over on that side of the Crisna, and we thought that was a bit strange. But what’s done is done. It was our oversight, really; we never imagined anyone would spend almost two million euros to hire all the Free Companies. I guess some people out there are more ambitious and well-to-do than we thought.”

“Seriously. But that won’t be happening again. The Free Companies, among many other things, are how we make our money, but we’d rather lose a little income than create that kind of imbalance in the game. From now on, you won’t be able to hire more than three of the companies at a time. And even that will depend on what you need them for.” Valyaev pulled a cigar out of a small box on his desk, snipped off the end with a miniature guillotine, and lit it.

“Kif, what are you still standing for?” Zimin gestured me toward the chair across from him. “Sit down, and grab a cigar if you want. They’re fantastic, real Cohiba 56s, straight from Liberty Island.”

“Yeah, there’s no mistaking their tobacco.” Valyaev breathed out a cloud of smoke, savoring every puff. “And they get better every year, which is impressive.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” Zimin responded, picking one out for himself. “I remember seeing how the Cubans make their cigars; I couldn’t put one in my mouth for the next five years.”

Valyaev chuckled. “Yeah, that was funny. But why didn’t you drink rum that whole time?”

“Who knows what they mix in there if that’s how they make their cigars,” muttered Zimin. “Plus, rum without a cigar is like tequila without a Corona. Something’s just missing. You can have a cigar without rum, but rum without a cigar is absurd.”

I took a look at the cigars and ended up declining. Without really knowing how to smoke them, the exercise would’ve ended up in a fit of coughing and lost respect in the eyes of my hosts. Weakling, they would have thought.

“Would you mind if I just smoked a regular cigarette?” I asked the two jokesters.

Zimin nodded, blowing out another cloud of smoke. “Tell me one thing, my friend,” he said to me, “what are your plans for the game after you beat the dryad quest? We don’t have any doubt that you’ll do just that, of course.”

“None whatsoever.” I shrugged. “What plans can you have? Well, besides sending that neural bath of yours back to the warehouse with a cry of ‘freedom!’ As long as it does end with the dryad quest…”

“I love this guy,” Valyaev laughed. “Max, you don’t want to give him to me, do you?”

Zimin looked at him reproachfully before turning back to me. Valyaev snorted and continued. “Everything in life, my dear Kif, comes to an end sooner or later. That includes all quests, and you can believe me there. So I’m wondering what you’re thinking about doing next.”

“Keep publishing the paper—quests end, though the game doesn’t—well, I mean, as long as the corporation doesn’t shut the paper down,” I replied seriously.

“We won’t be doing that,” Valyaev assured me. “People read it; I’m sure you’ve seen the ratings. By the way, I’m glad you brought that up since I want to discuss it with you. I already called your fat, old boss to say that we’re going to be increasing circulation and probably the size as well. People like the Times, and soon, it’ll be making more money than the rest of the paper put together. You wouldn’t believe how many site visitors we’re getting. We’ll need to expand your staff, too. I need to tell HR to find you another couple people.”

“Agreed,” Zimin responded, gesturing with the hand holding the cigar. There was a ring on his finger that I hadn’t noticed before. “Kit, tell Nikonova to take care of that and run the calculations so we can bump up the circulation and double the content in a couple weeks. Kif, can you handle that?”

“A couple people isn’t enough,” I replied, cursing to myself. “We’ll need four. Though I wouldn’t double the content since that means we’ll have to water it down and lose quality in the process. Let’s just take it up another 50%.”

The bosses looked at each other and thought quietly for a second.

“Sounds good,” Zimin said, breaking the silence. “There are twelve pages now, right? Let’s go to sixteen.”

“And three people,” I added quickly. “We really do need them, since everyone’s busy as it is.”

Valyaev quickly agreed. “Not a problem. If you need three, you’ll get three.”

“Anyway, that’s this side of your life. What are you going to do in the game?” Zimin wasn’t letting the question go easily.

“Nothing,” I replied with a sigh before catching their eye and muttering an addendum drearily. “Probably.”

Zimin smiled thinly. “Excellent. You think fast. Let’s put that conversation off, though we’ll leave it open. How about some cognac? Or maybe rum? I think I still have some.”

“Max, let’s stick with cognac; I can’t imagine our young friend likes rum. You in, Kif?” Valyaev winked at me.

I glanced at the two of them again before waving in their direction. “Ah, why not?”

A small bottle of cognac appeared on the desk as if out of nowhere, and it was accompanied by a small dish full of lemons as well as three snifters. I didn’t recognize the name on the bottle.

“Chateau de Montifaud,” Valyaev said as he poured the amber liquid into the snifters. “It’s good stuff, though I prefer Frapin.”

“I like this better.” Zimin took a glass and dipped the end of his cigar in it. “If you don’t like it, don’t drink it.”

“Ha, when have I ever declined a free drink?” Valyaev laughed.

I had no idea what he didn’t like about the cognac; I’d never tasted anything better. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure…

We sat there for a little while as the liquid fire seeped its way into our blood.

“I have a question,” I said, deciding finally to broach a topic I’d been wondering about for a while. “It’s about how the game works.”

“Well, if it isn’t confidential, go for it,” Valyaev said complacently.

“I can’t figure out why some NPCs act so strangely. Actually, no, that’s not it. Why do they change as the game goes along? Not all of them, and not even key NPCs—the thousands of ordinary ones. I mean, König Harald, he makes sense; he’s a special NPC with his own scripts and logic, obviously, all thought out. It makes sense that he’s pretty multifaceted, seeing as how he has a quest line, plus the fact that he’s just an important figure. But why do I have more and more fun talking with Gunther, Flosy, or even just now with Lane? When I first met Gunther in the forest, he was like a round, tin coin, but by the time we parted ways in the North, he could have run for president. And his quest line obviously wasn’t unique; I could have gotten it from any other of the knights of the temple as long as I had the reputation in hand. It’s like they progress, their personalities expanding and gaining depth, and their backstory unfolding. There’s even a point where I start thinking of them as people!”

Valyaev grunted, while Zimin looked at him triumphantly and rubbed his pointer finger and thumb together.

“You won fair and square, Kit. Kif, well done.”

Pulling a clip well-endowed with money out of a jacket pocket, Valyaev started counting off 5,000-ruble bills. When he got to twenty, he handed them to Zimin with a parting shot. “But I’m drinking the rest of your cognac!”

“You can take it with you for all I care if we don’t finish the bottle,” Zimin replied magnanimously, splitting the pile of money and giving me half.

“Your share of the winnings.”

They sure do like to bet. I only hoped they made a habit of betting on me—I won either way.

“Kit, explain what’s going on,” Zimin said as he grabbed the bottle, clearly intending to pour us all some more.

Valyaev waited for him to get to his snifter, cleared his throat, and got started. Everything turned out to be much more complicated than I expected.

Just like in all the other games, different simulators drove all the NPCs—that much I knew. Obviously, the simulator for a non-quest farmer or little white rabbit was as simple as it gets. To make things simpler, those simulators were just a little better than the computer for chess that demolished the last world champion who agreed to face it fifteen years ago. That wasn’t long before the Great Leap Forward and right about when Moore’s Law was proven false. Everyone still remembered the computer going 18-0, with the exclamation point being a thunderstorm that fried the leader’s electronic guts.

There were hundreds of millions of those primitive II simulators in Fayroll.

VIP NPCs like the könig had powerful, individual II-VIP simulators. They had beaten 970-990 Rozov-Turing tests many times over in random samples made up of thousands of different volunteers. (Who are Rozov and Turing? Unfortunately, I was too cowed by Valyaev’s excited gestures to ask.)

In other words, they had the ability to imitate someone unable to leave a room (claiming to be sick, locked up, an athlete, an astronaut, etc.), meet people online, make friends with them, and not give them the least inclination that they weren’t actually people.

In some cases—about 3-5% of the results—people even fell in love with II simulators. In 1-2% of the cases, the simulators could make their biological friends change their entire way of living…

But the most interesting part was that they were ordinary NPCs—quest starters.

About thirty years before, right when mobile networks were starting to appear, users would call and complain if they couldn’t get coverage. If important people or simply a large enough number of people complained, operators would put up a new cell tower to boost signal quality. Fayroll used a similar principle, only the other way around.

To start off with, quest NPCs got a simulator a dozen times more powerful than the primitive model. But if the program noticed a particular NPC chatting with the same players over and over again, it permanently boosted that NPC’s II simulator by a factor determined by a number of conditions—for example, how long the players interacted with it, the level of the quest the players were completing, and the players’ VIP coefficient.

I, as it turned out, had a VIP coefficient of 9.0, which was very high. Valyaev responded to my inquisitive look by saying that the program evaluates what players do, their age, and their education. People who did intellectual work got a much higher level than players who were physical laborers—the program’s final intelligence depended on who it talked with and for how long. Because of that, people with degrees got a higher coefficient than students. And, just to make sure nobody felt left out, the program made sure there were things everyone shared—balance was sacred.

With all my trips with von Richter, the global and continental quests in the North, and before that also in the West, I’d pushed all the different coefficients involved almost to the maximum.

That made it no surprise that Gunther’s simulator had reached the VIP II level. Flosy’s simulator was already pretty powerful as well.

Kit also mentioned that traders were excepted from the system since they worked with a million different players but only spent a minute or two with each. Only the few NPCs players interacted with most often, for a minimum of 48 game hours, enjoyed increased intelligence.

If I spend any more time with von Richter, they’ll make him a patriarch of the Order. My measly fecal worker Flosy could become the Great Scooper of the North.

The first thought that came to me was that they had to have spent mountains of money getting the whole thing going, and there were probably mountains more going toward improvement and upkeep.

The second was, “Da-a-amn!”

“Impressed?” grinned Valyaev.

“It’s the digital era,” Zimin responded philosophically. “The future is now.”

“You’re telling me.” I shook my head. “I didn’t even recognize all of that, and I didn’t understand everything I recognized.”

“Don’t worry about it; it doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Valyaev said amiably. “Just keep playing like you have been. You have enough on your plate as it is, especially with everything going on between the clans. You’re part of it now.”

“One more question,” I replied, deciding to try my luck and see if I could get something I could really use. “Will Miurat get any penalties for that stunt he pulled?”

“Who is Miurat?” Valyaev’s eyes opened wide.

“Kif, even if we polished off two of those bottles, you still wouldn’t get anything out of us,” laughed Zimin. “You go figure out the who, what, why, and where. Trying to get smart with us!”

We drank the last of the bottle, and Valyaev left for his office, promising Zimin that he’d think of a way to get back at him for the day’s fiasco.

“He doesn’t like losing,” noted Zimin. “Always been like that for as long as I can remember.”

“How long have you known each other?” I asked.

“Forever,” Zimin answered succinctly, before elaborating when he saw my uncomprehending look. “We’ve known each other for forever, since day one.”

There’s a friendship for you.

“Okay, Kif, there’s something else I wanted to tell you—well, more ask. You’re taking Vezhleva out for dinner this week. You didn’t forget, did you?”

I sighed. “As if you could forget about something like that.”

“Oh, please. A smart, beautiful woman, good fun, great music, and all free of charge. What else do you need, you blockhead?”

“I have someone else like that at home, and she’s not happy.”

Zimin frowned.

“Kif, once we hit thirty, we start to think about the young girls with their tight bodies, the way they look at us and hang on every word. You can and should sleep with them—you deserve a treat every once in a while, and you absolutely have to boast to your friends who are also on the other side of thirty. That lets us believe for a little while that we’re still as young and tireless as we were at eighteen.

“There’s nothing wrong with that at all, since lots of those girls, especially the smart, ambitious ones, prefer talking with us to people their age. I mean, okay, an eighteen-year-old girl with an old man in his sixties is more scary than strange. But an eighteen-year-old girl with a guy over thirty? Nothing wrong with that. Living with them is hard and an art form though, since they don’t know how to hide their emotions or compromise with themselves or, especially, with you.

“A more experienced woman over thirty might close her eyes and mouth, settling for salting your coffee later; twenty-year-old girls kick up a fuss, complete with all the tears and sniffles you could ask for. It’s up to you, but think about it. Are you prepared for that? The hysterics, the accusations, the complaints? The fact that you might end up breaking her morals? Do you really need that?”

“I wish I knew,” I replied with a sigh.

“You have to know.” Steel edged its way into Zimin’s voice. “You always have to know everything. If you’re going to do something, you have to know why you went with that option rather than a different one. Otherwise, you’re already doomed to fail. And that’s not just about women; it’s true of all areas of life.”

I said nothing. Zimin smiled suddenly. “Don’t have anything to say? Excellent. That means you heard me, and that’s good. Okay, about Vezhleva. While you’re talking at the restaurant, I want you to slip in something about how it looks like there’s going to be a big clan battle—everything’s pointing in that direction. And you need to mention that a clan called the Double Shields may very well be involved.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” I blinked.

“Not many people have,” Zimin replied with a thin smile. “They’re a unique clan, my friend. It’s made up of players for hire, with clan heads paying big money for their services.”

“Oh, God! What isn’t there in Fayroll?” I sighed yet again.

Zimin grimaced. “That’s starting to bother me, too, since there are too many people in Fayroll for us to keep track of. Just take Fortune’s Favorites, for example; they gathered power so quickly that we just about missed it. Right now, we’re building up the admin apparatus as fast as we can to make sure we don’t end up with chaos. Okay, so you know what to do?”

“Yes, sir, boss. You want me to call you that evening to tell you how it went?”

“If you’re not a complete idiot, you’ll call me in the morning.” Zimin winked maliciously.

I shook his hand and walked toward the door. It was only when I had my hand on the knob, however, that I clapped my forehead and turned around.

“Ah, I completely forgot about another question I had. Will the program consider it cheating and make the quest harder if I pay some NPCs from my company to port me somewhere close to the temple? I’m paying him, hiring him, really, and it’s not just transport—it’s the game process. I get that it wouldn’t work to do that with a player, but what about an NPC?”

Zimin scratched his head, picked up his phone, and dialed a number. “Kit, listen, our boy here has an interesting question. Kif, say that again.”

Zimin turned on the speakerphone, and I repeated my question. I could hear Valyaev groaning and wiggling his nose.

“No,” he said finally. “I’m almost positive it’ll be okay. That’s linear game progress, and the key point is that it isn’t just a normal NPC like a trader or a quest-giver; you’re hiring a fellow soldier. Call me later when you finish the quest, okay? Just in case I miss it. It’s an interesting topic. I’ll need to get Kostya involved, as well.”

Zimin made a gesture in the air as if saying what he thought of my question, and then snapped his fingers and smacked his forehead. His next statement shocked me. “I completely forgot! With everything that’s been going on, it flew right out of my head. Azov found your car a week ago. He wanted to call you then, but I told him not to; you have enough on your plate.”

“Really?” I replied with a huge smile. “That’s great! Where is it?”

“In our garage. Where else would it be? As far as where it was, I’m not sure. Azov caught me right before a meeting, so I didn’t have time to hear the whole story. If you want, give him a call and ask him yourself—you should thank him, anyway—”

“Of course,” I replied, cutting him off. “I’ll call him and take care of it. I didn’t think he’d be able to find it!”

“You thought Azov wouldn’t be able to find something?” Zimin smiled skeptically. “Believe me, he could find the Amber Room, not to mention Genghis Khan’s grave. Anyway, stop by whenever you have time to pick it up. Just not today, since you’ve been drinking. You should always obey the rules of the road.”

I nodded, thinking for a second. “Would you mind if I left it where it is? I’ll drive the new one, and winter’s almost here. In your garage, it might as well be in a safe since nobody will be getting to it. And if they do, I imagine they won’t get out alive.”

“Not a problem,” Zimin replied. “It’s not hurting anyone here.”

As I walked to the car, I thought to myself where I should go next, ultimately deciding to head home. I needed to take full advantage of the time I had off from the Free Companies since I had no idea when I’d have another opportunity like it. Time was ticking away, and I needed to hurry. Plus, I have no idea what the second part of the quest will be.

***

The base was still deserted, the sun beat down, and dust swirled above the parade ground. I looked around, anxious to avoid a meeting with Grokkh and hopeful that Fattah wouldn’t be in the barracks. I headed off in that direction.

Fattah wasn’t there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He seemed like a good guy, but he was a player—he’d definitely wonder where I was taking two big guys and what I was doing with them. The best possible option for me would have been for him to conclude that I was a pervert like in the old Roman times. They liked to have their fun back then. But if he guessed that they were helping me beat a quest? I’d have had nothing but questions, hints, and yet another tail… He was nobody’s fool, that much was for sure.

Happily, the barracks were empty save for Lane and Ur. Ping and Pong were nowhere to be seen. “Hi, gentlemen,” I said, waving a hand in greeting. “Where are those two doofuses?”

“They left for Maykong,” growled Ur. “They said they went to find some medicinal salves, but I think they were looking for girls.”

“Then they’ll definitely need salves,” Lane remarked cynically. “Those misers always look for the cheapest girls, but that just leaves them spending twice as much on medicine afterward.”

Ur guffawed.

“I hope my Northern friend and I will have the opportunity to earn money for nice, expensive girls?” Lane asked simply.

“Of course,” I responded in kind. “Just like we agreed. If you’re ready, we can head out now. Unless, of course, you need to talk to Grokkh first.”

“No worries there,” replied Ur. “Grokkh is drinking; he misses that Falk. He should be drinking to the rat’s death, but instead, he’s upset.”

“Ah, forget it, our heads are fine,” Lane said, jumping down. “Let’s see the money, Hagen. Sorry, but it’s like last time: payment up front.”

“What’s there to be sorry about? Nothing wrong with that,” I said. “Just remember, nobody can know where we’re going.”

“Silent as the grave,” nodded Ur.

“Of course.” Lane was as serious as ever. “It’s not in our interests to say anything. I assume this won’t be the last time?”

“No, not the last time,” I assured them. “There will be four of these trips. For this one and the next two, I’ll do everything, and your job is just to get me there. I’ll need help for the fourth one.”

“That’s fine,” Lane said as he dropped the money into a purse on his belt. “That’ll be more expensive though.”

“We’ll figure that out when the time comes,” I replied.

“Then why are we still talking?” Lane tightened his belt and checked to make sure his blade would slide easily out of its sheath. “Where are we going?”

“A village named Capur. Remember how we had a mission there the other week?”

“Sure,” wheezed Ur as he pulled on his boots. “That was fun.”

“I’d like to believe that today will be much less fun,” I replied sadly, realizing the futility of that belief. Nothing good could come of that temple.

“And then what? If there will be anything afterward, of course…” asked Lane.

“Would you rather go to Maykong or back here?” I replied.

“Better to Maykong,” Ur said. Lane nodded his agreement.

“Then wait for me, and we’ll head over,” I responded. “I don’t think I’ll be too long.”

If I make it out alive, that is, I said to myself.

I did need to visit Maykong, as I was out of money and scrolls, or rather, I was almost out of them. I just had two scrolls left, and they’d be used on the way to Capur and then on to Maykong. I did have one idea for how to drum up some cash.

***

It was a quick jaunt from the village to the temple, and the jungle was just as bereft of life as it had been the first time. It was almost like it had expended all its aggression the previous week. The trip wasn’t long, either. Half an hour after arriving at the village, we saw the squat building, its round cupola, and a barely-invisible entrance. The whole thing was covered in vines.

“Not the best spot,” Lane said, looking at me warningly. “Nasty, for sure. Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you? Don’t worry about the money; we won’t charge extra. I mean, we’ve fought side by side, so it’s not like we’re strangers.”

Ur nodded silently.

“No, guys, this is my fight,” I answered as I pulled out my sword. “I’m going in alone. Lane, here’s a scroll. If I’m not out in an hour, I’m not coming out at all, so don’t wait for me. Or maybe we’ll see each other back at the base.”

I wasn’t feeling particularly noble; I just wasn’t risking anything. If I were killed, I’d be sent right back to the base and could port to Maykong, and from there back to where I was. And a little extra prestige with the warriors next to me couldn’t hurt.

“We’ll check in,” Ur muttered. “The Free Companies don’t leave each other behind.”

I gave them each a smack on the shoulder before walking into the temple, stopping for a second before diving into the small entrance. Slipping on the vines wrapping their way around the half-demolished threshold, I made my way into a small room that appeared to be the temple’s vestibule.

You entered the Temple of Lakashman

Your task is to get the Key of Bravery by beating the Test of Strength.

If you can complete the task efficiently and intelligently, spending less than seven minutes on it, you will get a bonus reward.

A timer appeared in the interface, just like the one I’d had in Sviss’s memorable cave. I’ll have to hurry; bonuses are always nice. I took a few steps forward, breathed in, and walked through the arch into what I assumed was the main hall.

Chapter Eleven

In which the hero makes several important decisions.

The hall was small, dark, and unpleasant, and it smelled like dust and time. What does time smell like? Everything has its own smell, and I think time smells like an old book your grandfather had on his shelf before it was passed down to your father. It remembers you when you were just a kid, back when you read it and believed with all your heart that bad guys always got their just deserts. The good guys always ended up alive, Captain Blood really married Arabella and lived happily ever after, the Nautilus actually existed, Dick Sand became the best captain on the planet, and everyone had their happy ending.[5]

I stood for thirty seconds in the doorway doing my best to ignore the numbers melting away in the interface. Sure, I hated to lose precious time, though my eyes needed to adjust to the dark—it was small and above ground, though it was still a dungeon. You don’t mess around with dungeons, and I didn’t see any torches on the walls of this one. In good Fayroll fashion, the only lighting appeared to be coming from the cupola, though it had become so overgrown with the passing of time that sunlight was barely leaking through. On the other hand, that may have been the plan; my first step on the slabs that made up the floor could have released tongues of fire. At the very least, I knew I wasn’t going to just drop by and grab the key. That never happened. Oh, speak of the devil, that’s got to be it.

At the other end of the hall, just thirty steps away, I caught sight of a niche covered by a grill, and inside it was something flashing a dull red. That, I figured, had to be what I was there for, if for no other reason than it couldn’t be anything else. I didn’t see anything besides it in the hall, either because it was dark or because there actually wasn’t anything else there. There were just a few bas-reliefs on the walls.

“What’s there to lose?” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

I took a step across the temple floor, figuring that was the only way I was going to find out what the fanatics at Raidion cooked up for me. The quest was designed for one person to beat by themselves. So there shouldn’t be anything I can’t—

My thought was interrupted by an unpleasant grinding sound, with something pounding onto the floor. As I ripped my sword out of its scabbard, I spun around in an attempt to figure out what was happening. Realizing the truth only made things worse.

Warriors in fantastic hats, with no-less-fantastic armor and motionless faces, were climbing down out of the walls. Not a single expression crossed any of their faces, as each of them, from hat to toe, was made out of stone.

You’re kidding me. They weren’t bas-reliefs; they were warriors, temple guardians, and a trick as old as the Chinese emperors with their catchy names and terracotta armies. And I’d fallen for it. Sure, I still could have dashed back out of the tunnel, since the entrance hadn’t been blocked, but what would have been the point of that?

I spun my head around, doing my best to figure out what to do. At the same time, the statues lazily, and even kind of majestically, made their way from the walls, their tramping feet leaving rocks and stones behind them. Stone swords left stone scabbards. There were ten of them, and I had no idea what the quest’s designers were thinking. Whatever the case, I wasn’t sure how a single person could beat the quest. Okay, so maybe if you work your way up to Level 200 and find a sword with uber stats, something like +50 cold damage, +50 acid damage, and +100 fire damage. Wait, a second, fire—fire!

The stone warriors had left their cozy holes in the wall and had begun to surround me, their feet ringing doom on the stone floor. I had no delusions about their plan; they wanted to chop my body up into parts.

You unlocked Forever in Stone.

To get it, find and see 20 tombs of warriors from the great armies of old immured in the walls of ancient Fayroll temples.

Progress:

One found: the Warriors of Emperor Muiden

Reward:

Title: Witness to Greatness

A passive ability, Seeing the Unseeable, Level 1: +0.5% to your chances of seeing what is hidden, such as secret doors or stashes. If you already have this ability, this boosts it by one level.

+5 to strength

To see similar messages, go to the Action section of the attribute window.

It wasn’t the best time for an action. Like those monsters are going to stand there and wait while I read everything.

I frantically groped my way through my pack and pulled out the scroll with the fire spell. It was a shame to use it, but it would have been more of a shame to die. Wait, how do I activate it? Maybe by unrolling it?

Ripping off the ribbon tying the scroll shut, I unrolled it. Nothing happened. There were squiggles and doodles all over the inside, but not a single spark came out.

The ring around me was closing in. The room was so small that even the slow-moving stone beasts didn’t need much time to reach me.

“Come on, damn it!” I yelled, shaking the scroll. “What are you waiting for?”

To activate the single-use spell scroll, pronounce the command: Use.

Happy that the program was smart enough to tell me what to do, I couldn’t help but note that it hadn’t given me those instructions back when I’d first gotten the scroll. Shame on you!

For a second, I thought that a quiet female voice whispered in my ear, How rude! But I had more important things to worry about. Huge stone swords were already being raised above my head when I bellowed out the command.

“Use! Fi-i-ire!”

The flames instantly shot up out of nowhere, filling the entire space. Even my feet disappeared in the thick, powerful fire. The sensation I felt was incredible, however. I was standing in the middle of a raging inferno, completely impervious to its effects. It was better than any amusement park ride I’d ever been on.

The flames disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared—one whoosh and they were gone. I was surprised to note that my vision wasn’t impaired in the least, as I’d spent the entire 45 seconds worried that I wouldn’t be able to see a thing once the fire dissipated. Instead, everything was just as visible as it had been before I used the spell. The first thing I did notice was that, while the flames were gone, the stone beasts were not. They stood frozen in the poses they’d been in when the fire engulfed them, just much redder and bereft of their ability to move. I could tell they were making an effort to move, or at least wiggle something, though it wasn’t happening. The effect did not, unfortunately, appear to be very long-lasting. The steam that poured out of them initially finally thinned into a light wisp.

They’d been heated up, I realized, and the steam was easy to explain, too. The temple was situated in a jungle that had dampened the statues. It wasn’t exactly one of the pyramids, and it was anything but dry. The wall of fire had sizzled its way through the water that had collected on them.

Another one tried to move, making a sound like ripping pants. A small crack appeared in the warrior to my left, and it started leaking crumbled rock.

Heated rocks can split, I’d read somewhere, though I couldn’t remember if that had been in reference to gems or just normal, everyday stone. Who cares?

My sword whipped through the air, and the head of the first warrior tumbled to the ground. The blade certainly didn’t cut through the stone like butter, and I didn’t cut anything off myself; as soon as the sword struck the stone neck, the head rolled off on its own. The body, robbed of its uppermost part, collapsed into a pile of rocks.

Realizing what I needed to do, I flashed from one side of the hall to the other, doing my best to decapitate the stone monsters as fast as I could. .The red color was fading, and they were starting to move with more and more energy. Once the eighth was dead, I was especially happy to see a notification pop up.

You unlocked Level 57!

Points ready to be distributed: 5

The final statue even tried to defend itself, though it wasn’t as mobile as it would have liked to be, and the result was yet another pile of stones on the temple floor.

As soon as I dispatched him, I heard a creaking sound. My sword at the ready, I looked around. The sound turned out to be coming from the grill enclosing the key. It was lowering slowly and unwillingly.

You passed the Test of Strength and earned the right to collect the Key of Bravery.

Additional:

Time spent: 06:34

Intelligence shown: 72 of 100

Efficiency: 88 of 100

You got the bonus reward: Warrior’s Aid, a small set of potions.

That actually took me by surprise, as the whole experience had made me forget about the timer. Although… I decided to check out the set later, first grabbing the key and getting out of there before anything else could appear out of the walls or the grill could close again. Who knows with developers like these?

I walked over to the niche, in which the large key was shimmering a crimson color, and picked it up.

Key of Bravery

Quest item

As if I didn’t know what it was. The job was done, but I wasn’t in a hurry to calculate how expensive it would be for me to beat the rest of the quest at that rate. I just needed strength in that temple, though the others would make me think as well. And considering what perverts the developers are…

“Ah, you’re alive,” Ur said, greeting me with his deep voice. “When we saw the fire inside, we thought you were a goner.”

“Was it a success?” Lane was as laconic as ever.

“Yep,” I replied with a sigh. “Though it wasn’t easy.”

“What did you think it would be?” Lane slipped his sword back in its sheath—he apparently had been about ready to charge into the temple after me. “People always protect their valuables, and this wasn’t just some dead village; it holds the power of the dead gods. They were protecting secrets as well as their valuables.”

“Well, let’s head to Maykong.” Ur was practically hopping up and down from the suspense. “What are we waiting here for?”

I opened a portal, and we stepped into it.

***

Leaving Lane and Ur at their favorite pub, I made a beeline for the hotel I’d noticed on my last trip to drop the key in my trunk and check out the set of potions.

Warrior’s Aid

Collected and packaged with the direct participation of the Western Academy of Wisdom.

The Western Academy of Wisdom: we know our potions and spells!

Set contents:

1 Strength of a Bull: boosts strength by 10 for 1 minute and 30 seconds

1 Armor Bubble: wraps the user in a cocoon that cannot be penetrated by edged weapons for 30 seconds

1 Forever Young: instantly restores life energy to 80%

1 Weasel: boosts agility by 13 for 1 minute and 30 seconds

3 health potions, 800 health (multilevel)

3 mana potions, 800 mana (multilevel)

20% discount on a consultation with a mage professor at the Western Academy of Wisdom

The Western Academy of Wisdom: it doesn’t matter if you want to find, ask, or enchant something—we’ll get you the best results. Our mages have passed the test of time!

When I finished reading the description, I was probably reminiscent of a fish out of water. For a little while, I stood there, my mouth opening and closing. Not a word came out.

“Well, that’s something,” I finally said, dumping the set into my trunk. I held onto the life and mana potions, reasonably figuring that, if they were already not that big of a boost, they’d only get worse as time went on. The rest was fine lying in my trunk; it wouldn’t spoil.

Next, I sat down on the chest, pulled up my friend list, and checked to see if Joker was online. He was, thank God.

Hey, can you meet me at the Maykong hotel in about ten minutes? The one by the Free Companies’ pub. There’s something you’ll be interested to hear. Hagen.

Joker replied in the affirmative, and I walked back downstairs eight minutes later with Lichtenshtain’s shield. Yep, time to sell it. My endless greed and boundless stinginess had taken me to the point where I’d outgrown what was an excellent shield. I certainly could have used the bonuses it would have given me, and they were even better than the shield I was using, but I needed the money. And it was the possession I felt the least bad about losing—everything else was much more valuable. My chances of finding the sword to go with it were slim to none, anyway.

The decision wasn’t an easy one, but my musings led me to the conclusion that I absolutely had to bank a nice tidy sum if I wanted to keep playing. First, I’d have to buy my way out of the Free Companies sooner or later, and, second, all my expenses were beginning to add up: more scrolls than I could count, hiring people, and everything else. I could have accepted the Gray Witch’s offer and let the Hounds of Death buy my way out of the Wild Brigade, something nobody would have had a problem with, though… It just didn’t feel right.

I also wanted to see how Joker did business, as well as what price he’d offer me—if it would be in line with market rates or if he’d try to pull one over on me. Zimin’s question about what I planned to do after I finished the quest had gotten me thinking. Really, what’s next? I wasn’t terribly interested in the game for its own sake, and I didn’t plan on playing much further, though I knew I didn’t want to just abandon everything I’d collected. Even if I had to take a discount or pay a commission for the bank transfer, I would still be putting real money in my pocket.

Before I’d logged into the game, I’d wandered around some fan sites. It would have been dumb to expect information on how much bugs sold items for on the official site—the whole thing wasn’t prohibited, but it certainly was discouraged to the point that threads of that nature were nipped in the bud. I searched long enough to get a picture of more or less how much I could expect for set, legendary, and elite items.

I didn’t even think about the auction since that would have brought down a world of problems on my head. Sales of even mid-level items had to be tracked by the clans, I figured, and I could only assume that the Thunderbirds weren’t behind the curve on that one. Going around my clan to sell my shield on the open market would have been tantamount to declaring war on it. All in all, the nerves I spared were more than worth the money I left on the table by going the private route. Oh, and too many people would find out how much money I have, and my low level would make me a prime target.

Joker was already waiting near the entrance, and I waved to him.

“Hey!” He was in a fun, relaxed mood, presumably after completing a successful deal.

“Hi, I have something to sell,” I replied, jumping right in.

“What is it?” Joker’s face turned serious. “It’s not some kind of trash, is it? If it’s less than elite, you should be on your way to the auction.”

“See for yourself. Just keep your voice down when you finish reading.”

I copied the description and sent it to him via the internal mail system. That may not have been the smartest idea since it was probably monitored by the admin and I could have exposed Joker. On the other hand, the cut he took was compensation for the risk he bore.

“Oh, wow,” Joker said with a swallow, his eyes showing how surprised he was. “Set?!”

“Yes, yes,” I replied quietly, looking around as I did. “Let’s go over to that corner, so we aren’t sticking out like sore thumbs.”

“Sounds good. So you want to sell it?”

“Yep. But first I want to hear what price you can pay.”

Joker stared at me, his lips moving as he ran the calculations and maybe even checked with someone. I decided not to hurry him. Instead, I enjoyed the view of the fountain and basked in the warm sunlight. After my visit to the dusty, dark, and very dangerous temple, I was back to enjoying the little things in life: peace, quiet, and safety.

Finally, Joker pronounced his figure, “350,000 gold.”

Ah, you disappoint me, my friend. That was less than half the price I was looking for, even considering the fact that I knew it wouldn’t be as high as it otherwise might be.

“Very funny. All right, I’ll be seeing you…” I held my hand out to shake his goodbye. “I’m going to head over to the auction then. I imagine somebody will buy it in less than a minute if I tack even just a couple hundred thousand on top of that.”

“Okay, okay, relax,” Joker replied, smiling slyly. “I had to try, didn’t I?”

Sure, and try you did—well done. Now you’ll never get the benefit of the doubt from me ever again.

He offered a new price, “500,000,” though he added another fifty thousand when I sighed, and another twenty thousand when I rolled my eyes.

Our whispered negotiations went on for a while, with both of us getting up and leaving a few times, though we finally came to an agreement: 700,000 gold (I agreed knowing full well that I was losing a good 150,000 in the deal), with one commission-free transaction in real life. He may not have been telling the truth about that last part, but it was still better than nothing. We stood there for another half-hour waiting for the money. Once it hit my mailbox, we completed the deal.

“Nice work by you,” Joker said, giving me a thumbs-up. “Your level isn’t that good, and you still managed to pick up a set shield somewhere. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible.”

“You still shouldn’t,” I advised him. “And you should forget about the whole thing; it’s better for you that way.”

“Already forgotten,” Joker assured me. “If you need anything else, send me a message.”

I took the money straight to the hotel, worried about thieves, then headed to a stand to buy five scrolls, and went back to the base. Tomorrow’s a new day, and I’ll be starting from there. I really didn’t want to put off the temples; they had me worried. Everything had been simple with Fomor and the spider—there they are, go kill them. With the temples, I didn’t know what was waiting for me, and I wasn’t a big fan of the feeling. That Wednesday was weighing on my mind as well—something like a rotten tooth in your mouth or a crumb in your bed.

***

Vika was calm, almost as if she’d completely forgotten about my upcoming date at the restaurant. It may have been a mask, but it was an awfully realistic one if it was. Zimin’s obviously a smart guy who’s been around the block a few times, but maybe he’s wrong about this time. There’s an exception to every rule, though that only serves to prove the rule…

Whatever the case, Vika was as sweet and carefree as ever. She was chirping around in the kitchen like a bird on a branch, and her crystal laugh punctuated her story about how Yushkov, who had given up drinking, had gotten into an argument with the sports department on that account. That day, he’d yelled at Stroynikov, who’d rearranged their responsibilities while Yushkov had been out drinking; Yushkov was left dealing with all the editorial junk. After some Tarzan-esque whoops, Yushkov had taken off after Gennady, first chasing him around the office and then down the building corridors in an effort to beat some fairness back into the paper.

The sports department and editorial staff heard the pair’s yells, brought some beer, and had a great time commentating on the chase. Nice sprint! That was your best run yet! A few people offered to take bets.

Everything ended the way it usually did: Mammoth came running when he heard the ruckus, threatened to twist everyone’s necks, and shooed everyone back to their offices. I couldn’t help but think back to the Forester from Noobland.

Then it was my turn to talk about the plans to expand the paper, hire more people, and, when it came down to it, offer Vika the next step up the career ladder. Being in charge of three people was one thing; being in charge of six was quite another.

She cheered up when she heard the news, though a shadow crossed her face when she thought about having competitors around—especially of the female variety. The donkeys we had were a known commodity, and she was about to bring on three question marks. What if one of them has bigger boobs and longer legs? I heard her thinking.

That didn’t really bother me, as I wasn’t planning on changing anything, but Wednesday… Wednesday promised anything and everything.

***

That morning, I paid a visit to the office. For Yushkov, I had a McLaren model I picked up at a kiosk (I named him Alonso, though I wasn’t sure the real Alonso drove a McLaren). I also had a suggestion that he not bury his talent. I gave Stroynikov a copy of The Order to Survive. While the book may not have been written about him, I observed, the title was more than fitting. Samoshkinov just got a pat on that back that was praise for being the only one in the office to get some work done. I didn’t say anything about the expansion, and Vika had strict orders to keep her mouth shut, as well.

The editorial written, I shook my fist at the group, telling them to stay in line and letting them know that I’d show them who was boss if anything else happened. I headed home satisfied with a job well done and promising myself that I’d take the next two days to knock out the other two temples. They were starting to wear on my nerves. Fortune doesn’t shine on you forever, and I knew the companies would be reformed soon. Then I’d be off traipsing around villages and everywhere else, with all the surprises that always entailed. Either I go get the second key today or…well, no, I’m getting it today. It’s the principle of the thing.

Chapter Twelve

In which we find that agility isn’t a gift given to everyone.

There was a strange feeling that hit me every time I found myself back at the base. It was a burden being tied to a particular place, especially since that was happening in a game. We spend our whole lives in the real world tied to something from beginning to end. School, the army, work, family, the mortgage…the list is never-ending. As soon as you start walking and talking on your own, you no longer have free will and the ability to blink your eyes and pretend you don’t understand. It’s at that moment that you’re thrust onto a carousel called You Should. Every year there’s another “should.”

“You should be a good student; you shouldn’t upset your mother.”

“You should go to university. Otherwise, you’ll have to join the army.”

“You should win this competition and bring glory to our department.”

“You should marry me. You’ll do the right thing, no?”

“You should come with me to meet my mom. I mean, if you don’t want to, you certainly don’t have to, but…”

“The kid should learn English. Who cares that he’s only three? That’s the perfect age to start.”

“You should go on a business trip…”

Should, should, should… You owe everyone everything all the time. Okay, so every once in a while, someone owes you something, but the tables turn that way with much less frequency. Bachelors owe people a little less than married men but they can’t completely escape their debt to society and the people around them. Women have it much easier since they—or at least most of them—are more organized in general, and they take limitations on their liberty in stride. They find the silver lining, quickly adapting to the limitations placed on them, unlike men. The latter are linear and less cerebral, accustomed to just surging ahead. Although, to be fair, hearing what goes on inside a woman’s head isn’t something any man should wish for. Some things are better off left unknown…

Anyway, as a result, men only have three places where they can quickly spend at least a little time off by themselves without all the endless responsibilities they’re beset by: the garage, their porcelain throne, and, strange as it may seem, online games. Games are where they can freely choose their path, at least, unless they have the misfortune of joining a clan like mine. To be fair, though, even the Thunderbirds aren’t as bad as real life.

And that was why I had mixed feelings every time I opened my eyes to see the barracks, where my squad’s life played out so wonderfully and fascinatingly. On the one hand, I’d chosen that road myself and therefore had nothing to complain about; on the other, showing up every day was like going to work, and I had to just follow orders. That was what was getting on my nerves the most, and that was the biggest reason why I wanted to take care of the ancient temples as fast as I could.

I’d also spent half an hour the previous evening thinking about whether I should have some of the money deposited in my real-life account or just leave it in the game for the time being. My final decision was that pulling it out wasn’t worth the potential downside. The bosses, I was sure, already knew about the sale, but it was within the rules of the game and aimed at reaching a particular goal. That meant I was in the clear. Joker wasn’t in any danger either since the bosses had to know that he was my personal bug, and wouldn’t be touching him; he was useful. There was no saying what kind of future he’d have after I left the game, of course. But about pulling money out of the game…

There wasn’t much inherently wrong with the transaction itself, though they could start throwing me snide comments like, “What, we don’t pay you enough?” They might find a way to get back at me, and they might not, but the headache wasn’t worth it. For the meantime, I decided the money could just sit there waiting for its moment in the sun. It was safer where it was, anyway. Once I made the decision to give up the game, I could decide what to do. Although, a test transfer wouldn’t be the worst idea… Sending a large sum (and it would be large, seeing as how I already had four items from the Knightly Collection set) could be dangerous, and worth breaking up into a number of smaller transfers. I figured I could give that more thought later—I had one idea about how I could resolve the situation.

“Ohhh,” I heard Ur’s bass voice boom in the barracks. “This is miserable. And it’s only getting worse…”

“What’s wrong with him?” I glanced at Lane, lying on his top bunk as always.

“He overdid it yesterday,” giggled Ping, who was also there, along with his brother. “Hi, Hagen!”

“Drank way too much,” Pong confirmed. “Hagen, hi!”

“It wouldn’t be anything unusual if he’d just had too much to drink,” we heard from the top bunk. “But breaking three stools over his head yesterday…”

“Why three?” I asked, surprised. There would have been nothing surprising if it had only been one; we mercenaries liked our simple joys.

“On a bet,” Lane replied, his head hanging over the side of his bunk. “There were supposed to be three, and he might have pulled it off if he hadn’t had so much wine to drink. But he’d already been going hard, so there was no shot.”

“Ohhhh,” Ur moaned in reply.

“I had too much, too,” Lane concluded gloomily. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have lost all my money on this buffoon.”

“So, you’re in the market for a job?” I asked, squinting.

“Looks like it,” he nodded. “Why? Do you have something?”

“Of course,” I replied. “But a magician never reveals his secrets.”

“We’re going to kill a magician?” Lane frowned. “I don’t like going after them. Nothing’s ever straightforward; they always infect you with something, and then you spend the rest of your life itching or stinking.”

“One time, we decided to kill one of them in our village—while he was sleeping, obviously. He was still able to torch half the village before we got him!” Pong said, his eyes wide.

“Half the village!” Ping confirmed.

“Why did you have to kill him? And especially when he was sleeping?” I asked. “He couldn’t have been hurting anyone right then…”

“He had a purse full of gold. What choice did we have?” replied a surprised Ping.

“Killing him was the only option,” Pong said. “What else could we have done? Society would never have forgiven us.”

I need to figure out where that crazy pair is from and give wherever that is a wide berth. If that’s the kind of gentle, friendly people they have there…

Lane jumped down.

“Ur’s out of the game today,” he said to me, “so it’s either the two of us, or we take the robber brothers with us.”

“We’re not robbers,” Ping cut in with a frown.

“Not robbers in the least.” Pong was cut to the quick. “We’re honest warriors! We just don’t like it when other people’s gold isn’t in our pockets.”

“Fantastic.” Lane was enjoying the brothers’ outrage. “And we’re supposed to trust our backs to them.”

“We don’t stab friends in the back,” Ping responded grandly.

I looked at Lane to see him grunt and nod his affirmation. “They’re not lying—we’ve never had anything like that from them. Yet.”

“So what’s going on?” Ping asked quietly. “It isn’t too dangerous, is it?”

“We aren’t cowards,” Pong interjected, “it’s just that the pay has to live up to the danger. Otherwise, there’s no point in doing it, right?”

“It’s pretty simple,” I explained. “You have to get me somewhere and then wait for me there. If something happens along the way, we fight together. If not, then you’re off the hook. For all that, you get 600 gold apiece. The only thing to remember is that nobody can know about this— absolutely no one.”

Ping and Pong whispered back and forth for a minute before telling me that they were in.

“So where to today?” Lane asked as he came over, ready to go.

“You’re going to have to tell me that. Do you have a map?” I’d forgotten that I wanted to buy a map. Maybe not as nice a map as Reineke had, maybe a bit cheaper…

Lane pulled a map out of his pack and laid it out on the table. It was old, worn and creased, and filthy, though you could still read all the place names.

“Where?” he asked.

I pulled up my interface, compared the two visually, and stabbed a finger down in the middle of his map.

“Here or somewhere nearby. Maybe a mile or two away.”

“Sunitra,” Lane winced.

Ping and Pong went back to whispering.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Well, it’s nothing exactly,” Lane answered evasively. “Just that the place isn’t a great one. It’s Sunitra.”

“And?” My voice started to rise. “What’s the matter with it?”

“People go missing there,” Pong hissed loudly.

“Whole villages,” said Ping. “Not a soul left.”

“The Great Snake lived around there in the swamps, too,” Pong continued, eyes wide.

“Chingachgook?” I asked with a sigh.[6]

“No, just the Great Snake.” Ping didn’t bother to ask who I was talking about.

I grabbed the bull by the horns. “So, does that make a difference? Did you change your minds?”

“I’m coming; I already signed up,” Lane replied as he pulled on his chainmail. I couldn’t help but note that he’d left it behind for our other adventures.

“We’ll still come, so long as you throw in another hundred each,” the brothers said in unison.

“Agreed,” I replied shortly. “Everyone gets another hundred.”

The brothers cheered up and scurried around, getting ready.

The spot really wasn’t all that great. It was a textbook jungle, complete with water vapor in the air and a squelching goo underfoot. I couldn’t even figure out if all the liquid around us was water or sap from some kind of plant. The sun could barely push its way through the tree branches, vines, and epiphytes above us, and so the portal took us from the camp’s sunny plain to a dark twilight.

“Smells like snakes,” Lane said, his nose twitching. “It’s a rotten place, by Torok.”

“Rotten, for sure,” Pong agreed. “I don’t like snakes.”

“Who does?” I muttered, thanking my lucky stars I’d picked up a nice immune booster against the crawling nasties. It didn’t protect me completely, but still…

Dear players,

Tomorrow, from 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. Moscow time, we’ll be doing some server maintenance.

In addition to what we had planned, we’ll also be installing an update, so please head over to the game’s official site to read all about what’s included.

To avoid losing your experience and items, and to ensure a smooth gaming experience as you complete your quests, we recommend that you avoid logging in during that period.

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

Well, I didn’t know everything about the update, but I did know that the Free Companies were about to get a new limitation. And the fact that they couldn’t be used as frequently meant that our recruiting efforts were about to yield benefits. I’d definitely made the right decision to start work on the temples. Otherwise, I might not have finished in time. I wonder if I can get to both temples today.

The spot really was rotten. It stank of mucus and some other crap, and I had the constant feeling that there was something alive wiggling under my feet. Noises came at us from all sides, and the atmosphere… It was unpleasant.

The brothers obviously didn’t like it either. They continually looked around and whispered back and forth. Only Lane tramped on ahead unperturbed; he couldn’t care less. There was a man in complete control of himself. I envied him.

The temple sprang up suddenly out of the jungle like a walrus out of the water. We had been walking along, tripping over roots, slapping at buzzing insects, and maneuvering around enormous trees when there appeared a small clearing. In the middle, was the temple—which was a bit bigger than and just as partially ruined as the first temple.

“Huh, I wonder what’s under the temple,” Pong said suddenly.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind knowing. What if there’s gold?” Ping agreed. “Or diamonds!”

“What makes you think there’s anything under the temple at all?” I asked.

“Of course there is!” Ping perked up. “Look, can you see how the ground to the left is sunken into a kind of groove? And again from the other side? That means there’s some kind of brickwork down there, and where there’s an underground passage or something like that, there’s also a secret hidden. Nobody’s been here to fill in the earth or shore it up on the inside for a long time, which is why it looks like that. I just wonder why it’s so narrow… A human wouldn’t be able to fit in there.”

“Absolutely. It’s narrow but long. See how far it stretches?” added Pong.

It was true. The groove ran off into the trees.

“I wonder who would possibly need an underground passage here in the jungle. Does anybody besides animals come here?” Lane looked to actually be surprised.

“No idea,” I replied with a shrug. “Maybe it’s less a cave under a temple, and more a temple over a cave. The passage could’ve been there before they built the temple.”

The brothers glanced at each other wordlessly, though Lane looked at me.

“Going in alone again?”

I nodded. Lane shook his head unhappily, though he went off and sat down by a tree. The brothers made themselves comfortable next to him. I waved and dove into the temple entrance.

You entered the Temple of Maanasa

Your task is to get the Key of Guile by beating the Test of Agility.

If you can complete the task efficiently and intelligently, spending less than seven minutes on it, you will get a bonus reward.

The air in the temple wasn’t as stale as in the last one, though I thought I caught a whiff of a swamp. Also, there were torches burning in the best gaming tradition—the kind that never go out. Sure, in some games, you can pull them off the wall and get a pretty penny for them, but in Fayroll you could neither get them off the wall nor find anyone willing to buy them.

I pulled out my sword and walked cautiously into the temple hall. It definitely wasn’t smaller than the first temple, and I was pretty sure it was actually a bit larger. It also wasn’t as bare. There were chunks of rock, hooks on the walls that looked to be made for ceremonial lamps, benches around the outside of the hall, and some kind of stone shelves on the walls themselves. Everything was covered in dust. Most of it was lying on the floor, and everything had tufts of something hanging off them. On the far wall, just like the last time, I saw the key, though it was emanating an icy blue color, rather than the previous red. It wasn’t even covered by a grill like in the Temple of Lakashman; this time, it was behind an open-work mesh held shut by nothing more than a braid and a hook. All I had to do was unlatch it and grab the key. That was it!

I looked around, examining the walls. I was sure the same trick wouldn’t happen twice but still… Everything looked good; the walls were smooth, with green streaks running down them and a thin film covering some sections.

As I stood at the entrance, I tried to figure out what I was waiting for. It was quiet, with just the sound of the jungle wheezing and breathing in the background. Water dripped somewhere, and I heard the old stones of the temple rustling together. Taking a deep breath, I started walking across the flagstones that made up the floor, moving as quickly and silently as I could toward the key. Nothing happened as I pattered across the floor. My pace quickened, and my muscles tensed for a flight toward any of the walls at a moment’s notice. But nothing had happened by the time I got to the key. I took a closer look at the hook and the mesh. The whole thing looked fine, just waiting for me to open it. And that’s what I was about to do when a slight breeze ruffled my neck and the back of my head. I heard the same rustling behind me that I’d noticed at the entrance, only this time it was louder and much scarier. Turning around was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d already figured out what I was going to see when I did. But my whole being yelled at me, Turn, turn, or you’re a dead man!

My head slowly swiveled around, and I stared into the enormous, unblinking eyes of a gigantic snake. “Old stones of the temple rustling together”…You’re no poet; you’re a fool. They even said who you’d find here! Who needs underground passageways in the jungle? Buddhist monks? The snake had been doing the rustling as it wormed its way through one of the tunnels into the temple. There it was, the keeper of the temple, and I had to kill it! How? Or do I have to kill it? There was something about agility…

The giant monster’s eyes looked deep into my own, pupil to pupil. If I hadn’t known that snakes weren’t intelligent, I would have sworn that the one in front of me was enjoying the situation and smiling sarcastically. Its mouth hung slightly open, and I saw two enormous fangs with greenish drops oozing from them. Just one of those drops, I could only imagine, was enough to take out my whole clan with enough left over for Fortune’s Favorites.

“Hiss-ss,” it said, its forked tongue slithering in and out of its mouth.

“Hi,” I answered, leaping for one of the shelves on the walls.

It streaked after me, knocking me off with its powerful body. I bounced and flopped across the floor, rolling across a bench and grabbing a hook to jump once again to the side.

The snake chased me around the temple like a rabbit. It could have killed me a hundred times over, though it didn’t. I swear by all the gods, it was just playing with me. I felt like I was trapped by the kind of child who would first tear the wings off the fly before jabbing it with a toothpick or match to watch it crawl desperately away. Only then would the child bring a slipper down on top of it. Or a newspaper…

I dodged and weaved, I dropped to the floor to duck sweeps of its tail and head (though the snake hid its fangs, making sure I didn’t die before my time by getting accidentally scraped along one of them), and the whole time it hovered above me, waiting for me to pull myself up and make a run for it again.

Because of the fear that engulfed me, I completely forgot why I was there and what I was supposed to be doing. All I wanted was to get out of the temple and never come back. Really, I was ready to give up the game forever right then and there. And there was another thing: I had the feeling that if the fanged beast bit into me right there, I wouldn’t just die there in the game; I’d die in the real world, as well. It was nonsense, of course, but I was sure of it in the moment.

But the snake didn’t let me get out the door. A couple times, I made it close enough to touch it, though at that precise moment, I was knocked away by the snake’s muscular body and found myself flung against one of the hooks on the wall.

Boo-oom, a gong rang out.

You were unable to complete the task in seven minutes. The bonus has been lost.

The snake threw its head back, as if laughing, its fangs flashed threateningly, and venom dripped from its mouth. Its tail pinned me to the wall. Damn it, the games are over—this is the end. I rummaged around in my bag, hoping to find something I could use. Potions, a portal scroll, another scroll (probably the one nobody can read), money…

The snake finished laughing, shook its head, and stared at me just as it had when we’d first met. Only this time, I could see final and unavoidable death in its eyes—my death.

My hand kept fumbling around until it came across something I didn’t recognize at first. I couldn’t be more like a certain hobbit if I tried. Here I am about to be poisoned and eaten, and all I can think about is what I have in my “pocketses.”

Still, I pulled out the object that had captured my curiosity, figuring intelligently that it certainly couldn’t make the situation worse. The snake’s mouth was opening wide, its fangs pointed straight at my throat.

It was the snake statuette strange little Pawny had given me, the one she sent Apofss over with. I caught myself wondering what would have happened if I’d agreed to take him, and which of the two reptiles would have won in a fight. Then, I shut my eyes. I had no desire to watch as the snake sank his fangs into my neck.

Ten seconds went by, and nobody had torn me to pieces. My veins still weren’t pulsing with venom, my body wasn’t shaking, and nobody had swallowed me whole. One eye eased open, this time my right one, and I saw the reptile’s eye just a few centimeters away. It was surprised, I thought. The creature was looking at me, and I would swear on anything, besides the surprise in its eyes, there was fear and relief that I wasn’t dead. It’s happy it didn’t kill me before it saw that thing?

I opened my second eye, leaving us to stare at each other for about half a minute.

“Hiss-ss,” the snake said, again opening and closing its enormous mouth and dropping its gaze to the statuette in my hand. Its hiss was almost apologetic, and it was like it was trying to say it was s-s-sorry…it didn’t want to kill me. At least, that’s what its drooping head told me.

I swallowed and replied. “Hiss-ss.”

Thank God, while I don’t speak snake, it appeared to understand everything it needed to understand. Its tail released me, its terrifying, triangular head nodded again, this time to say goodbye, and it slithered away into a hole in the far corner of the temple. It was only as I watched its body disappear that I realized how truly enormous it was. Its tail, before slipping into the opening, feinted quickly across the hook in the door hiding the key, and it swung open. That couldn’t have been the Great Snake Ping mentioned…or was it Pong? But it was definitely a close relative—that much was for sure. And I had no desire to even see the Great Snake, let alone meet it.

You passed the Test of Agility and earned the right to collect the Key of Guile.

I got up from the floor, reached out, and took the key.

Key of Guile

Quest item

You get weird thoughts coming into your head after stress like what I’d been through. I, for example, absolutely had to know how I could have beaten the test using agility. Strength wouldn’t have helped. While a leveled-up warrior might have been able to polish off the stone blockheads in the first temple, the snake would have been much harder. In the time it takes to swing a sword twice, it could pump a cistern-worth of venom into you and swallow you whole.

I looked around the space and remembered tripping over some rings a few times. Checking them out and noticing where they were located in the room, I shook my head. If some trickster managed to avoid soiling themselves when they saw the monster, realize what the rings were for, and get the snake wrapped up so tightly in them that it couldn’t move, I would have eaten my hat. I was not that person, needless to say. If it weren’t for Pawny’s gift… Who knows where I’d be right now? I owed her a thank-you, though something inside me said that her story was only just beginning.

Outside the temple, I breathed in the air that, just ten minutes ago, had seemed musty and damp. Living wasn’t so bad, especially when you consider the amount of adrenaline I had running through my veins—not to mention the euphoria that comes with being saved from what you think is certain death.

“All good?” Lane looked at me inquiringly.

“More than,” I replied with a nod. “Where are the other two?”

“Over there. They came across some kind of hoe, and so they’re trying to dig up that passageway and see what kind of valuables they can find.”

I turned to see the two brothers pounding away at the stonework hiding the fanged beast’s hideout.

“Stop, stop, you idiots!” I bellowed. “That’s not an underground passageway!”

“Then what is it?” Ping asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, what?” chimed in Pong.

“It’s a sewer,” I said, slapping my forehead. “The monks—”

“We’re not complete bumpkins,” Ping cut in, offended.

“We know what a sewer is,” explained Pong. “It’s a good thing we didn’t have time to break in. That explains why it’s so narrow!”

Ping nodded.

“Well, what next? The base or Maykong?” Lane smiled snidely as he looked at me.

“What about visiting one more place? The price is the same,” I replied, smiling just as snidely back at him.

Chapter Thirteen

In which the hero does everything the wrong way.

Lane grunted as he pulled out his map.

“These trips of ours aren’t going to end well. Things have been too good so far...”

“Don’t jinx us,” I replied, reining him in. “Everything’s going fine. Your chances of surviving over on the other side of the Crisna were way worse, and here you are, healthy and in one piece.”

“We all die someday,” Ping noted philosophically. “That’s the life of a hired sword. Although I’d rather it not be soon.”

“I don’t want to die at all.” It was the first time I’d ever heard Pong disagree with his brother. “I want to go back to the village, buy some land and a house.”

“We all want that, though not many live to see it,” Lane concluded. “So shut up and let Hagen tell us where we’re going next.”

Just like the last time, I compared his map with mine and pointed to a worn fold.

“There’s a temple right here.”

“Radzhakh Province,” Lane replied, shaking his head. “It’s like you’re picking out the worst possible spots on purpose.”

“What’s wrong with it?” My optimism and thirst for action were starting to wane as the adrenaline left my blood.

“Rebels,” Lane replied, looking away. “They’re protesting.”

“Protesting what?”

“Everything.” He obviously didn’t like the rebels. “It doesn’t matter who takes power, they immediately rebel. They don’t even wait to see what the new government wants from or will give them. During the day, they hide in the forest; in the evening they come out to spend the whole night fighting. Though they won’t hesitate to slit your throat if you come across them during the day either.”

“They’ve had about twenty governors there in the last three years,” Pong said, joining the conversation. “Maybe even more. They killed the last one with a snake dancer. The entire South was up in arms about it.”

I couldn’t help but wince. There was no way I was even looking at a picture of a snake in the near future, not to mention a live one. Just the memory… But I still wanted to hear the details. A dancer?

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the rebels sent the dancer to his palace, saying it was a present from the governor of Gulkan, the neighboring province,” Ping started to explain.

“The governor really did send a dancer, complete with a caravan,” Pong jumped in. “The dancer was real, his personal favorite. But the rebels captured the caravan, killed the dancer, and sent one of their four leaders in her place. She’s crazy, her name is Xantria. Dagger, bow, sword—she’s the best at all of them.”

“The other three are no better,” Lane noted. “Yasmuga can master living animals: horses, elephants, even bears… They say his bears even dance—ridiculous! He has a way with people, too. Vaylerius is a famous mage, though nobody knows what his problem is. He’s noble, from a well-known family in the West, if what people say is true. He’s read all the books ever written, and he knows every spell there is.”

“And the fourth?” I asked, intrigued. The developers had quite the imagination, I had to give them that. “And what about the dancer? How’d that whole thing end?”

“Their fourth leader is the most dangerous,” Pong replied wide-eyed. “Danoot. He’s Xantria’s brother, or maybe her fiancé. Nobody knows anything about him for certain since he doesn’t leave witnesses alive.”

Ping took over from there. “And with the dancer it’s simple. The governor took to Xantria’s grace and beauty, which they say she has in spades, and let down his guard. She used a serpent sickle to take him out. That’s when you’re holding a snake in your hand and use it to attack.”

“What?” Lane stared at Ping dubiously. “What sickle? He was taking her to his chambers when she pulled a snake out of her bag and threw it at him. That’s it.”

“No!” Pong waved his arms in frustration. “It wasn’t like that at all! He took her, they did all kinds of nasty things together, and then he fell asleep. And that makes sense; Xantria’s a young girl, and he was getting up there, so he would have been exhausted. She ran off, leaving a snake on the pillow next to him. When the governor rolled over in his sleep, the snake bit him.”

“Okay, so, long story short, everybody’s dead,” I said.

The three mercenaries stopped short and stared at me.

“What do you mean, everybody?” Ping asked carefully. “I thought it was just the governor.”

“No, they’re all dead!” Pong gasped. “Believe me, brothers, something foul’s afoot with that girl.”

Lane looked at them and spat.

“I’m not even sure which of you is the biggest idiot… Anyway, it doesn’t matter who sent who off to their ancestors; the important thing is that it’s a nasty place. One of the Wild Brigade’s divisions is even stationed there. We just need to make sure we stay away from the rebels because we’d have a hard time getting away with our lives. They aren’t big fans of mercenaries.”

“You really don’t like them,” I said, looking at Lane. “We’ll hope to God they don’t get us.”

“Which god?” grunted Lane. “Everyone has their own, and some don’t have any.”

Ping and Pong had nothing to say, preferring to avoid as touchy a subject as that one.

“Here’s a scroll, let’s get moving.” I handed it to Lane. “It’s already past noon, and we don’t know how far it is.”

“And I want to do some drinking today!” Ping’s eyes shone; Pong licked his lips.

“You’ll get your booze, boar’s leg, and girls if we make it to Maykong,” I promised.

Honestly, it was great to see the sky again. After the gloomy jungle, the sun was nearly overpowering, though I thoroughly enjoyed the feeling.

“Is it far from here?” Ping asked Lane as he looked around apprehensively.

“How should I know?” The latter shrugged. “I know the village, but I don’t know where we’re going. Let’s get over into the forest, so we’re not sticking out here like a sore thumb.”

The portal had taken us to the edge of a small village, with a road winding toward it around a field planted with something. I’m no farmer, but it might have been yams or sorghum.

The map told me we were about thirty minutes away from the temple, and that this time we’d be marching through the forest.

“We’ll be there in half an hour if we don’t have any surprises,” I announced cheerfully. “Let’s get a move on it. What are we waiting for?”

We set off single-file around the field, keeping close to each other.

“I wonder where that kid’s running off to,” Lane asked, almost to himself, as he watched a boy running out of the village in the opposite direction from where we were.

“Could be going anywhere,” panted Ping as he wiped away the sweat running down his face. The sun was definitely beating down. “Maybe he has a big meeting he’s late to.”

“Has to be it,” Pong confirmed between puffs of air.

“Sure, sure.” Lane was starting to scare me with his spy mania.

The forest was cooler, though we didn’t feel any better—Lane pushed on ahead so fast that at times, I thought he was trying to lose us. The only thing that contradicted my suspicion was the fact that he stopped a few times to ask me if we were going in the right direction.

Our gallop took us to the next temple in just twenty minutes rather than the thirty I’d estimated. We flew into a small field, breathing heavily, and saw a squat temple growing out of the earth. Pong groaned.

“I demand a raise! This is crazy!”

“Me, too!” Ping joined in.

“Strong, hardy warriors, the pride and glory of the Free Companies,” spat Lane contemptuously. “Go ahead, brother, get in there and do what you have to do. Just hurry, because we’re going to have company soon—and that’s when things are going to turn south.”

I looked at Lane and realized that he wasn’t joking. It was the first time I’d seen emotions on the face of the cold-blooded soldier. That can’t be good.

You entered the Temple of Sarsvaati

Your task is to get the Key of Intellect by beating the Test of Wisdom.

If you can complete the task efficiently and intelligently spending less than seven minutes on it, you will get a bonus reward.

There wasn’t anything unusual there. Seven minutes, intelligent, efficient… I threw up my hands, drew my sword, and bravely tramped into the small—even in comparison with the first temple—room.

Just like in the previous temple, torches burned, bright and smokeless on the walls, and everything around me was quiet and empty. The other side of the room, the spot where I was accustomed to seeing the key, was also empty. I walked out into the middle to get a closer look at the wall and found something that puzzled me. It wasn’t made out of moss-covered stones like the rest of the temple; it was made out of brick. And right in the middle of the wall, there was a hollow about the size of a double door. At the center of the hollow, were large, square blocks that combined to form a symbol looking like the letter W. The squares on the edges were colored, and every couple seconds they flashed, almost as if a laser were shooting through them.

The rest of the squares making up the symbol were gray and empty, something explained by the pile of colored tiles lying broken on the floor. The colors were all unbelievably bright.

What is this? I kicked the hollow angrily, only to see the outer colored blocks flash, falter, and blink a few times. Nothing happened.

“Come o-o-on!” I cried in frustration. “A logic puzzle. What did I do to deserve this?”

That was the worst thing I could have possibly come across. I would have far preferred to have a snake chase me around the room again, if only for one simple reason: I knew how to run away from it, or at least die (we quickly forget our fears). But there? I had no idea what to do.

I’m more into the liberal arts, and logic puzzles like that are a no-go for me. Sudoku had been the worst for me when I was little, not to mention Rubik’s Cubes.

When it came to object-search games, I either hit the skip button or asked Nastya from the foreign department (she knew everything about geography in general and Korea in particular) for help. She was a mathematical thinker and didn’t have a problem with things like taking a ball through a labyrinth or figuring out which key goes to which lock. I found the objects myself—I liked that part.

I just wish that little Nastya were here…

She may not have been, but the wall was. A multi-colored one, damn it!

I picked up one of the tiles and shoved it into the space closest to the edge. That’s heavy!

The edge tiles again flashed and glowed, and something green shone through the gaping cracks. That has to be the key. It’s a foot away from me…

That time, however, things ended differently: the light suddenly and quickly blinked twice, and my turquoise tile crashed to the floor. I was just glad I pulled my leg away in time.

“Damn it!” I swore aloud, slamming the hilt of my sword against the wall.

It struck home with a thud that shook the wall. Cracks spread out along it and disappeared into the pile of trash on the floor.

“Well, look at that,” I said with an unpleasant smile. “So it’s an alternative solution for the stupid and aggressive among us!”

I wasn’t about to dull the blade of my sword, and I suspected that the sneaky developers had stuck some kind of sword-breaking brick in there anyway just for fun. The pommel was the way to go. I swung away, and five minutes later the hole was big enough for me to stick my head in, reach out, and grab the key.

You didn’t pass the Test of Wisdom, but you reached your goal and therefore still get the right to collect the Key of Intellect.

Additional:

Time spent: 05:37

Intelligence shown: 0 of 100

Efficiency: 34 of 100

You do not get a bonus reward.

I was pretty sure I’d just been called stupid, if very tactfully. Whatever. I’ll live. The most important part was that I had the key.

Key of Intellect

Quest item

It was green, and it was beautiful.

You can begin the second part of the quest.

Task for the second part of the quest: find and bring the Gong of the Goddess, a unique item hidden in the cursed Monkey King Temple, to Idrissa the South.

Use the keys you obtained to beat the quest.

Additional task:

You can have help to complete the second part of the quest, though you can have no more than five players or NPCs with you. If you complete it on your own, you may receive an additional bonus.

Additional information: if you complete this quest as part of a group, you will be the only one to receive experience from the process.

Nothing I read really surprised me. Lane and company wouldn’t care about the experience, anyway; they just wanted my gold. I think I’ll head there tomorrow morning. It didn’t look to be any simpler than what I’d been dealing with, though having four fighters at my back (or, even better, two in front and two behind me) would leave me feeling much safer. Screw the bonus.

***

As I walked out of the temple, I realized that I might be visiting the other one the next day alone unless I could find and convince new NPC helpers to go along with me. I didn’t think my friends were going to see the sunset.

The bold trio was on their knees in the grass, their hands behind their heads. They looked at me darkly as I walked out into the clearing. Behind them stood twenty or so dark, bearded men wearing white jackets, white pants, and red bands around their heads. Another five of them were headed in my direction.

“Be smart, mercenary,” a voice behind me said, and I felt a slight prick on my neck. Turning, I saw a fairly young man with a kind smile and a sword held at the level of my eyes. He was dressed differently than the bearded murderers who took up positions in front of me with angry eyes, and his sword was special; the blade shimmered in the sun.

“I told you, Hagen, I had a bad feeling, and you didn’t listen to me,” Lane called over. “They’re going to bury all four of us right here.”

“Feelings shmeelings,” said another young man who appeared around the other side of the temple. He squinted a little nearsightedly, he had a jaunty, round hat on his head instead of the usual band, and there was a staff in his hand. The rebel leader, I had to assume, was behind me, while that was the mage. What was his name? Vaylerius.

“He’s right, though,” the leader said in a peculiar way. “We’ll definitely be leaving your bodies here.”

“Why is that?” Negotiating certainly couldn’t hurt our standing. Of course, I could have just opened a portal and stepped into it, but I wasn’t sure that was the right move. It was smart, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t even that it would have looked bad, and buffoons around us couldn’t really do anything to me—the game didn’t permit torture, and they probably wouldn’t take my things. I felt bad for my friends, and I still needed them.

“Give me your sword, go over to your friends, and get down on your knees. Then I’ll tell you why we’re going to kill you,” Danoot (it was definitely him) said benevolently.

“I’m not giving you my sword,” I responded, making sure to avoid raising my voice. “It’s a family heirloom, and nobody’s going to touch it as long as I’m alive. If you want, go ahead and kill me. Just first explain what my friends and I did to you.”

The bearded men murmured to each other, clearly ready to tear me apart. Danoot waved a hand to silence them. Just wait a second, he seemed to say. First, we’ll talk, then we’ll strip them into ribbons.

“Well, for starters, you’re mercenaries,” the rebel leader started off graciously. “You came to our lands and spilled our blood at the pay of those who tore it away from us. Why should we let you keep your dirty, corrupt lives?”

“Oh, please,” I snorted. “The only blood my friends and I spill is our own, and that’s when we’re fighting to keep monsters and evil spirits away from peaceful villagers.”

“Ah, how noble,” the mage laughed. “So you’d be fine with me checking to make sure you’re telling the truth?”

“With powder?” I frowned.

“Ah-ha!” Danoot’s finger jabbed at me accusingly. “You’re afraid your lies will see the light of day!”

“Not in the least. I just sneeze when people throw that powder at me,” I explained. “I’m allergic to it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll use a spell,” Vaylerius said, scratching the bridge of his nose. “Are you allergic to those?”

Huh, he knows what that word means. The leader clearly didn’t know what an allergy was, but the mage did.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, raising my arms. “Go for it and let’s see.”

Vaylerius aimed his staff at me and whispered something. Blue clouds of smoke billowed around me, and I sneezed a few times.

“He really isn’t lying,” the mage said, his arms spread in surprise.

“What?” The leader couldn’t believe it. “But he’s a mercenary!”

“We’ve never touched your rebel brothers either,” Lane said. “We fight evil and the undead, and the only people we kill are the ones who’ve sold themselves to evil. Your mage is welcome to check us as well.”

Danoot sighed.

“Vaylerius, why did you have to get started with this? We could have just slit their throats and been done with it, but no, you had to go looking for the truth.”

“Danoot, all of us—you, me, Xantria, Yasmuga—we’re all here to fight for truth and justice. We gave our word. That’s where our strength is, brother,” explained the mage. “If we just go around killing everyone without getting to the bottom of things, how are we better than the enemy?

Oh, God. The whole thing made sense. He was the most terrifying opponent you can have: a young idealist. And he didn’t sound like any watered-down version either.

Young idealists are the worst. Okay, so all idealists are scary. They’re the kind of crazy people who believe in the triumph of the mind, in selflessness, and in the final victory of good over evil, both in their space and around the world. And it’s impossible to argue with them since they’ll just call you an old man and say that times have changed. Of course, they’ll never be anything like you. They also know for sure what the right way to do things is, and they don’t listen to anyone who doesn’t agree with them.

“So, are you convinced?” I looked inquisitively at Danoot. “I’m in the clear as far as you and your people are concerned, and so are my friends. The mage is right; you would be wrong to kill us.”

“And who will guarantee that you don’t have dark deeds in your future?” he replied, coming at the problem from another angle in an attempt to keep us from leaving with our lives.

What are you, a maniac?

“Who will guarantee the same for you?” Lane asked, taking the words right out of my mouth.

Danoot grunted. “Well, it really does look like you’re different from the people we’re fighting. They can’t put two words together.”

He signaled to his troops, who let the mercenaries get up from their knees. None of their weapons, however, were returned.

“But what were you doing in the forest? And why did you need to visit the temple?” Vaylerius jabbed his staff in that direction. “This used to be a place of power, but that was a long time ago. Now, it’s just ruins.”

“We’re on an ethnographic expedition,” I said, rehearsing an old excuse. “The mercenaries only came because we’re trying to visit as many places as possible. I collect ancient stories, legends, and tales. We heard about this place, and I asked these gentlemen to join me. It would have been tricky on my own. They were curious, as well, so here we are…”

Danoot and Vaylerius exchanged glances, though they didn’t respond.

“So what am I supposed to do with you?” Danoot rocked back on his heels before coming up with a surprising offer. “Why don’t you join us? We’re fighting for a holy cause: to free all those who labor in the South for the cursed Bright Prince. What do you think?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” I said, spreading my arms. “We’re apolitical…”

“What did you say?” Danoot’s eyes flashed unpleasantly.

“He means they aren’t involved in politics,” Vaylerius said, scratching the bridge of his nose again. “They don’t take sides.”

“Plus, we serve different governments,” I continued in an attempt to press my luck. “We can’t jump into quarrels happening in foreign countries.”

“But you do jump in, don’t you? Your Wild Brigade does, and with both feet,” Danoot replied stubbornly.

“That’s their business,” I replied. “We aren’t part of the Wild Brigade; we’re in the Free Companies.”

Danoot opened his mouth and was probably about to note that there wasn’t much of a difference between the Brigade and the Companies, though he was interrupted by Ping and Pong’s cries.

“Oh, no! Undead! The undead are coming!”

I followed their gaze and saw, swaying their way out of the forest, figures that resembled the ones we’d seen on our way to the first temple. They didn’t have a commander with a bloody bandage, but other than that they were identical. They perked up, at least, as much as they could, when they saw us, and picked up their pace.

“Valyerius!” yelled Danoot, taking up a defensive position and holding his sword out in front of him. “To the ready!”

“Give us our weapons!” roared Lane, who grabbed one of the bearded men.

Ping and Pong leaped up from the grass and dashed over to me, apparently in an attempt to hide behind my back.

Vaylerius barked a spell, and a bundle of sparks shot out of his staff, shrieked across the field, and buried itself in the chest of the lead undead. The young mage probably expected the accursed walker to go up in flames or collapse in pieces but, unfortunately, it shook it off without feeling heat or cold and continued marching toward us.

“Did you see that?” Vaylerius said sadly as he scratched the bridge of his nose. “That didn’t work either! When am I going to find something that works on them?”

As soon as the bearded men saw that, they took to their heels and dashed headlong into the forest, abandoning their leaders. Real devotion right there.

Danoot ground his teeth as he watched them run off.

“You didn’t listen to me,” Lane said to me as we stood back to back. He’d found his sword somewhere. “I told you today isn’t our day.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I said, brushing him off. “These guys won’t cut us up, and they certainly won’t eat us. I don’t think.”

“Everyone, come with me,” Vaylerius called as he jumped into the temple and waved his hand for us to follow. “I just remembered that the undead can’t get into places left by the Departed Gods. I’m pretty sure this temple dates back to them.”

It was just a good thing that it was that temple and not the one with the snake. It wouldn’t have killed me but it would have shredded the rest of the group—and it could definitely get in.

We dove in after him, dashed through the vestibule, and clustered in the center of the hall, swords at the ready.

A couple minutes later, we heard something rustling at the entrance, though nothing came in. Danoot, obviously braver than the rest of us, made his way over to it, glanced into the vestibule, and reported back.

“You were right, Vaylerius. They’re out buzzing around the entrance, but they can’t get in here. How did you know about that?”

“My mom told me,” Vaylerius responded shyly.

Danoot nodded, satisfied with the answer, though I was anything but. Who is his mom, and how does she know about the Departed Gods? I jumped in with a question of my own.

“Is your mom a mage, too?”

“No, of course not.” Vaylerius rubbed the yellow sphere at the tip of his staff. “She just took a course once at the Academy of Wisdom and came home with lots of odd facts. Then she told me.”

I wasn’t sure how important the Academy of Wisdom was, but I’d heard of it back when I was dealing with a certain dirty little pixie. He’d mentioned it reverently, and that spoke volumes. It didn’t sound like the kind of place that would accept just anyone, at least. They made my potions, too. So who is his mom?

“At the Academy of Wisdom itself? It can’t be that easy to get in, can it?”

“You think they were going to keep my mom out?” Vaylerius looked at me with a smile on his face. “She could do anything back then, or at least almost anything.”

“Who is your mom?” I had to ask.

Why is it such a secret?

“Princess Anna,” Vaylerius replied.

Chapter Fourteen

In which the hero tries to avoid being cornered.

“Oh, wow,” Lane said from behind me, even following that up with a whistle.

The name didn’t mean anything to me. Although there was something… Maybe I’d heard it at some point… Wait a second. The signet ring. I’d gotten a ring with a quest for that same Princess Anna. Could there be more than one Princess Anna in Fayroll?

“So what, my friend?” Lane walked over to Vaylerius and looked him over appraisingly. “You could lay a claim to the throne in the West, yes?”

“Formally, yes. Well, my family could in general, not me in particular,” Vaylerius replied easily, without putting on any airs. “But really, who would give it to us?  We’re one of the first families, sure, but the family’s artifacts were all lost or stolen a long time ago. All we have left are a few letters of credence. In other words, the family doesn’t have anything to back up its claim to the throne. I personally couldn’t care less.”

“Why not?” It’s not every day that you hear someone refuse the throne.

“I live the life that suits me,” the mage said with a shrug. “I have friends; I have a cause to serve; nobody gets on me about behaving how an heir to the throne should behave; nobody makes me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m completely happy out here in the jungle—more than happy.”

“Does the princess think the same way?” Lane asked.

“My mom is the only one who knows what she thinks,” Vaylerius shot back. “I imagine she’d be only too happy to take the crown—she loves power. There are no two ways around that. The chances of it being offered to her, on the other hand, are a bit low seeing as how she’s in exile. I already mentioned that.”

“The princess is a strong woman—and a very smart one, too,” Lane said thoughtfully.

How did a tracker from a family of trackers come to know so much about the upper echelons of the West?

“The walkers aren’t leaving,” Pong announced sadly. “They’re still out walking around by the entrance.”

“Walking around like aspens in a swamp,” confirmed Ping.

“They could keep us in here for a while.” Danoot was starting to get worried. “And we have a protest planned tonight. There’s a fat cat we have to teach a lesson to, and a little something else we need to light on fire.”

“You have nothing better to do?” I couldn’t help myself—radicals and extremists like that drive me crazy. “All you’re doing is ruining and destroying things. You could just kill that guy and be done with it. What do you need the fire for?”

“It looks better,” the mage replied with complete sincerity. “Fire is incredibly symbolic.”

I sighed and waved my hands, giving up on the whole thing. Then I pulled out a portal scroll.

“If this works, you can thank your lucky stars. If not…well, then we’ll have to think of something else.”

“What about us?” Danoot jumped in. “You’re going to just leave us here? Yup, that’s what you get when you associate with henchmen of the global capital…”

“Oh, please,” I replied. “Do you really want to go to Maykong? That’s where we were on our way to next.”

“No, Maykong doesn’t work for us,” Danoot said nervously. “We can’t get in.”

“They have a warrant out for us,” the mage explained with restrained pride. “Because of our beliefs and what we’ve done.”

“I think it’s more for what you’ve done rather than your beliefs. They couldn’t care less about what you believe in Maykong, and that’s always been the case,” Lane replied with a note of conviction in his voice. “Ah, if you would only listen to people who’ve been around a while longer, you’d stop playing these games. They won’t end well, though they very well could end with prison and a long rope.”

Danoot and Vaylerius glanced at each other and exchanged smiles, the kind you see on the faces of adults as they listen to kids thinking out loud.

“Okay, Hagen, give me the scroll.” Lane held out his hand.

“What are you thinking?” I asked as I gave it to him. “Where are we going?”

“The Second Company’s base. It’s a fifteen-mile walk back for you,” Lane said, looking darkly at the pair of people’s avengers. “Maybe that will burn off some of the crazy.”

I was deeply convinced that the executioner’s axe was the only thing that could “burn off the crazy,” though I didn’t say that out loud.

“And where will we go from there?” There was a point to my question. Spending scrolls on potentially useful mercenaries and my own needs was one thing; spending them on some kids I didn’t know, especially ones that extreme and that wanted, was something very different.

“They have their own stationary portal. We can’t use it to get to Maykong, but it’ll send us to our base. Then we can head to Maykong,” explained Lane.

“We don’t have any papers with us,” Ping said worriedly. “How will we get a pass?”

“We had no idea,” Pong added.

“Calm down,” Lane said sharply. “I know someone there, and he’ll take good care of us.”

“First, try to open the portal,” I said. “We may be arguing about nothing.”

The blue film flashed, and we all sighed in relief.

“And you said we’d be unlucky today,” I said to Lane reproachfully. “See? It’s not all bad.”

“That depends on what you compare it to,” Lane replied philosophically. “And the day’s not over yet.”

***

We stepped out of the portal on the edge of the jungle. Half a mile away, the blue ribbon of a river wound its way under the sun, and some familiar fenced-in barracks lined its banks.

“That’s the Second Company,” Lane said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction.

“Thanks,” Danoot replied begrudgingly.

Funny how that works, no? Just half an hour ago you wanted to cut our throats, and here we saved your lives. His whole world had to be turning upside down, and that couldn’t have been easy. I was glad he had enough conscience to spare us—perhaps he wasn’t completely a lost cause.

“Yes, thank you so much,” the mage said, apparently oblivious to the whole thing. He lived simply, like a bird on a branch, and his ideals seemed to be guided by the principles of justice and injustice; intriguing and not so much.

“Don’t worry about it,” muttered Lane. “Let me repeat that piece of advice: stop playing the fool, and find something useful to do.”

“Oh, let them live the way they want to.” Ping obviously wanted to wrap things up to avoid missing out on a few drinks after everything we’d been through.

Lane threw up his arms and started walking toward the Second Company’s base. The brothers bounded after him.

“Mage, by the way,” I said to Vaylerius as he waved to us, all ready to dive into the thick mess of vines with Danoot, “how can I find you? If I need something, I mean.”

“What would you need from him?” Danoot asked with a hostile tone in his voice, looking me over suspiciously as he did. “What could the two of you have in common?”

“Don’t worry,” I replied. “I don’t think I’ll need him; it’s more his mom I’d be looking for. Life has a tricky way about it, and I might be able to do the family a service.”

Why not? If the ring was hers, it would have been a shame not to cash in. All it would cost me was a few scrolls, and that could very well have been worth the reward, so long as I had the time.

“You got to the temple via the village. Next time just walk into it, show your face, and then wait on the outskirts by the field. We’ll find you ourselves,” Danoot replied before letting me know that the conversation was over by walking into the jungle. Vaylerius smiled sheepishly, waving goodbye and following Danoot.

“Oh, bella ciao,” I sang, shaking my head and turning to run after my squad mates.

***

I didn’t go to Maykong, logging out of the game instead when I saw a less-than-sober Grokkh circling me at our base like some kind of vulture. I didn’t know what might come into his green head, and I was worried it could be anything from putting me on guard duty to killing me…

Once out of the game, I sat down in a chair and thought to myself where I should go next and what I should do when I got there. Sure, I had the bare minimum of a “where” plan ready—I needed to wrap things up with the cursed temple and finish the dryad’s quest. I had no idea what would happen after that though, and I could only suspect that it wouldn’t end there. The quest, Zimin (or Valyaev?) had told me back in the summer, was a way to bring back the gods, and so I assumed I’d have to be the one in charge of that. Though of course, that wasn’t a given, and there were other options.

But what about when? Tomorrow? No, that doesn’t work. First of all, I had to show up to the office—we still had another issue to put together. Second, I had a date with a beautiful femme fatale. And there was no way I could tell what would happen with the temple. Beating it might be quick, but I could have to wait for who-knows-what afterward. I also didn’t know what we’d encounter on the way there—the trip might end up being much less smooth than the ones we’d had to date. And so… Wait, is our dinner still on? I should…

I picked up my phone and dialed Vezhleva’s number.

“My dear sir,” she said in place of a greeting, “if you are calling to cancel our plans for tomorrow, I will put a curse on you, and then I will throw myself from the ninth floor like from a tower into the sea. Then my disembodied spirit will appear to you every night, waving a finger under your nose and hissing abominably.”

“To the contrary, my lovely lady,” I replied in kind, “I called to inform you that nothing has changed regarding tomorrow’s rendezvous. The thought of it and it alone is all that has kept me alive through these dreadful, empty, and melancholy nights.”

“Oh yes? The kid from the office does that little to brighten your life?” she said a bit sarcastically. “Ay-ay-ay, I should take her under my wing and show her a thing or two. A man could languish away to nothing like that…”

She always had something to say, and I had a whole evening with her ahead of me.

“I can smack her into shape myself.” Damn it, I walked right into that, I thought, judging by the giggling coming from the other end of the line. Two adults, and we’re talking like first-graders. Thanks a lot, Zimin…

“Aren’t you the naughty boy,” Vezhleva squeaked in a thin voice.

“Oh, that’s me. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if I should pick up like we planned. At Raidion, around seven?”

“Of course,” Marina replied, this time in her usual voice. “You’re not getting out of this, I can tell you that much. I’ll see you at seven.”

And with that, she hung up.

Well, the snake in the game was digital, and, regardless of what I might have felt, there was a 99% chance that it wouldn’t have been able to do any real-life damage to me no matter how much venom I got out of it. But that woman, I knew, could swallow me whole without thinking twice. It wasn’t a great situation, and the worst thing was that I wasn’t getting anything out of it—I didn’t need anything from her. She did need something from me, on the other hand, and I was chafing under the burden of having no idea what it was.

I googled her, found some links, enjoyed a few very nice, if touched-up pictures, read a few articles about her and a couple she’d written, and was sincerely surprised to see that she’d studied at a prestigious American university. The degree she’d gotten there, in addition to the ever-so-predictable degree from Moscow State University, was in economics, and she’d also gotten a law degree in the UK. She must be an incredible worker. How did she find the time? I would have had to be an inveterate romantic or a complete idiot to believe that a woman like that would actually be interested in someone like me. Although, okay, I am from Moscow. And I’m a newspaper editor.

Clearing my mind of those thoughts and concluding that I needed to be awfully careful, I decided to get something to eat. I wanted something good, and we always had something in the fridge. The dark days were in the rearview mirror. I should note that Vika pushed back for quite a while when I told her that she should take money for groceries from the jar that I’d labeled “The Most Reliable Jar for Storing Money,” but she gave in eventually. From that moment on, the refrigerator was never empty.

Before that, however, I figured I could take care of one more thing. I picked up my phone and dialed Azov, the head of security at Raidion.

“Hi, Ilya, it’s Nikiforov. I’m the one with the Impala that was stolen,” I said, a bit awkwardly.

“Good afternoon, Harriton—”

“Just Kif,” I interrupted. “I’m more used to that.”

“Good afternoon, Kif.” I could feel Azov smile.

“I’m just calling to say thank you,” I said briskly. “I owe you a drink and a donut!”

“A donut sounds great. Although it won’t be like the donuts we used to have; they don’t make those anymore,” Azov replied nostalgically.

“So where did you find the car?” I asked, intrigued to hear what he might say. “Somewhere up in the mountains?”

“No, actually,” Azov replied. “We found it in a train car on its way to Tajikistan.”

“On its way to where?” I asked in surprise.

“You know, I was surprised, too.” Azov was only too happy to tell me about the successful operation. “One of their bigwigs was here in Moscow, happened to see you in it, and decided he wanted one for himself. They don’t have a lot of patience, and he has plenty of money, so making off with yours was the easiest option. Then they loaded it into a car, fitted a bunch of safety measures, and trundled it off slowly back to where we get all our utility workers from.”

“Crazy,” was all I could say, as I decided not to pry into how he’d actually been able to get his hands on the car.

“Well, all’s well that ends well.” Azov wasn’t in a hurry to spill his secrets either. “How are things with you? Everything good?”

“Absolutely, knock on wood,” I replied, superstitiously spitting over my shoulder. “I’m headed to Bacchus’s Barrel tomorrow.”

“To the Barrel?” Azov asked. “With one of ours?”

“Yes, Vezhleva,” I replied, quietly waiting for his reaction.

Azov paused for a second before chuckling quietly. “I won’t say anything much, but let me give you some advice. Be more careful than you’ve ever been about what you say, and count your fingers and toes when you leave. As soon as she’s gone, make sure they’re all still there.”

“Thanks, Ilya, I hear you.” I really did appreciate what the quiet, business-like Azov had to say. “Thanks for the car and the advice.”

“No problem,” he said, hanging up the phone.

“He’s good people,” I said out loud before heading toward the kitchen.

***

Time flew by as it often does when you’re at home. Even when you aren’t actually doing anything, you blink and half the day is gone.

“When will you be back?” Vika serenely adjusted my scarf and looked me openly in the eye.

“I’m not sure, somewhere around 11, I hope.” I shrugged. “We’re meeting at 7, then we have to get to the restaurant, we’ll be there two or three hours, then the drive home…”

“Don’t forget to drop her off,” Vika said with a wave of her finger. “It’s good manners.”

“Of course.” The situation was ridiculous.

“Take her home, but don’t you stay there.” The finger joined with another to grab my nose hard enough that it even hurt a little. “I’m going to wait up for you, and tomorrow’s a work day, so don’t make me go to work with bags under my eyes!”

“Got it,” I mumbled, my nose still held shut.

She certainly showed her teeth there. Quiet, calm, smart…and tenacious.

Vika kissed my cheek and headed off toward my office, which was where she’d been spending more and more time when I was gone. I rubbed my nose and left.

On the way there, I stopped by a compact plant store and bought a large flowering begonia. It was a meaningless, pointless plant, though it was at least in a nice pot. I can’t buy her flowers. Otherwise, this will look like a date. But I have to have something—she’s still a woman. I’d also promised that I’d be wearing felt boots and have a flower in my hand. Felt boots were nowhere to be found, which was a shame—they were perfect for the winter, as I’d worn them throughout my childhood. They were dry, warm, and comfortable. But I did have a flower.

Vezhleva fluttered out of the Raidion doors exactly at 7. Her legs were long, her hair was done up stylishly. How do they make it how it looks ruffled and disheveled, but still neat and tidy? She had a mysterious half-smile on her face, and the curves were just as good as anything a pubescent teen could dream up.

I stepped out of the car waving the begonia.

“Forgive me, my lady, for there are no felt boots. None whatsoever!”

“Hmm…will I at least get my three crusts of bread today? I’d eat the soles of my shoes right now if they were served with a good sauce!”

“Your highness, without fail.” I bowed subserviently to her. “I’m not sure about soles, but there will be a combination of sides to go with a bit of sirloin. We can even start with a salad, and perhaps an assortment of other meats…”

“You villain!” Vezhleva screamed at me in a way only she could and hit me in the back with her purse. “I’m drooling already—let’s go!”

I liked how she ate. She wasn’t a prude, and I didn’t have to deal with the usual nonsense you get from women. I’m actually on a diet, but I’ll splurge today for your sake. Um…it’s already 6 p.m.! I don’t eat after six. How many calories are there in this? What do you mean, you don’t know? Please ask a manager to come over here!

No, as soon as we were led to our booth, Marina snapped the menu up off the table. She explained to the waiter precisely which salads and appetizers she did not need as well as the ones she wanted, let him know which meat she was in the mood for and how it should be done, rolled off what was indeed a combination of sides, headed off his “but we don’t…” by letting him know that the gentleman she was with was quite the fat cat (a perfectly manicured finger jabbed in my direction), and informed him that his efforts would be well-rewarded.

The more I got to know her, the more I had to admire her—even against my will and better judgment. She was absolutely natural in everything she did, and I really appreciated that. She could also tell that I liked her, especially, I assumed, because that’s what she was used to getting from people. Still, my instinct for self-preservation was on high alert, telling me that getting attracted to a woman like that was a sure way to sign my own death certificate.

Our hunger sated, she pulled out a packet of cheap cigarettes and lit up with relish. They were even the slim junk people love so much— your everyday Lucky Strikes.

“We’re not supposed to do that in restaurants,” I grinned.

“Oh, lay off it,” Marina replied, flicking off the ash. “If there’s an ashtray sitting there, you can smoke. You know, all us animals are equal, only some of us…”

“Yep.” I pulled out my own cigarettes. “It’s true.”

She laughed, shaking her head to send locks of hair flying in every direction, and placed her hand on mine.

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t need your scalp for my collection. No offense—you’re a good guy, it’s just… You understand, right?”

I exhaled noisily, feigning huge relief at being let out of the moral quandary. “It’s just that I’m not the target you have your sights set on?”

“Something like that. Your girlfriend is worried about nothing, too, though, on the other hand, that’s good for her—she’ll learn something from it. I mean, I guess if you want to have some fun…”

“Nope,” I replied quickly.

“I always said you were no fool.” Marina snuffed out her cigarette.

Who did she always say that to, I wonder?

“Then why all this?” I gestured to the room around us.

“Why not? You get a break from your game, I get a nice dinner, and I wanted the chance to chat with you like this, informally. We’re going to be working side-by-side for quite a while, at least, I hope so.”

I relaxed a bit, and the conversation meandered on from there. Marina declined a bottle of wine, and I was driving, so our back and forth resembled a game of chess. We moved phrases around, exchanged jokes laden with double meanings, sacrificed facts, and castled aphorisms. One thing was perfectly clear to me—in my personal opinion, Zimin and Valyaev needed to make sure that woman didn’t get around behind them if they didn’t want to find a knife in their back when they least expected it. I’d seen and talked to many different people, but she was in a league of her own.

We discussed this and that, chatted about kings and cabbage, and finally made our way to the topic of Fayroll. She tried to figure out what I thought of everything going on in the game, and I thought the whole thing was innocent enough until she asked one particular question.

“What about what’s going on with the clans? They’re really at each other’s throats, aren’t they?”

That damn Zimin! He was right.

“That isn’t the half of it. I think we’re going to have a fight on our hands soon. I don’t know how soon…but it’s coming.”

“You think so?”

“I’m positive. I heard the Double Shields are even involved, and that should tell you something.”

“Where did you hear that?” Vezhleva’s voice, which until that point had been calm and relaxed, changed in an instant.

“Marina, don’t ask me questions I can’t answer. I just know.”

“Kif, you’re the last person I want to fight with, but things are going to be different between us if you don’t tell me. And I’ll find out either way.”

And out come the teeth. It was just a quick snarl, but her upper lip raised slightly. A chill ran down my spine. It was the same feeling I’d had the day before in the temple when I’d sensed that monster standing up on his tail behind me…

“You heard what I said. Anyway, we should be going. The wife’s waiting for me at home.”

“The wife?” Vezhleva grunted. “You married that provincial idiot? I must have missed something… She could wait until the morning—why are a pair of young and beautiful people like us hurrying off?”

“No, she wouldn’t go to sleep then, and tomorrow she’d have bags under her eyes. What’s the point of that?”

“All right, then get going. I’m going to stay here a little while longer—it’s nice.”

“I thought I’d take you home.”

“I’ll call a taxi. By the way, have the waiter come over.”

I took the check, left a few bills on the table, kissed her hand, and left. As I did, I felt her looking right through me.

Vika was happy to see me even earlier than 11, though she did her best not to show it. I did my best not to show that I noticed.

“Are you going to work with me tomorrow?” she asked as we fell asleep.

“Full speed ahead,” I mumbled, already gone.

Chapter Fifteen

In which both pleasant and unpleasant discoveries are made by the hero.

I’d gotten so worked up the day before with the temples, snakes, rebels, and Vezhleva, that I slept until 11. I didn’t hear Vika leave, my telephone ring, or the wind kick up outside the window in anticipation of an upcoming storm. My sleep was dreamless and serene.

Once I’d opened my eyes, the first thing I realized was that I was in a great mood. Wednesday had passed in anticipation of the pointless and daunting date with Vezhleva. Though we weren’t overly friendly, I’d managed to avoid open hostility in parting ways with her. I also knew that she wouldn’t risk taking a shot at me while I had the shadows of Zimin and Valyaev cast behind my back.

Speaking of Zimin.

“Hi, Maxim, it’s Kif.”

“If you’d called me a couple hours ago, or even just picked up when I called, I’d have thought that you took me up on my advice. As it is, I see you didn’t.”

“That has nothing to do with the respect I have for your advice; it was purely my sense of self-preservation,” I explained. “I’m not man enough to get in bed with a viper.”

“She doesn’t have teeth there, I can tell you that much. Anyway, it’s your life to live as you choose.”

What he said may not have been that pleasant but he tone was very friendly.

“I did do what you asked me to do,” I said proudly. “I told her everything.”

“And?” I heard some business-like notes creep into his voice.

“She got excited, just about picked me up out of my chair wanting to know where I’d gotten the information.”

“What did you say?”

“What did I say?” I paused for effect. “I told her I couldn’t say. That was it—I said that it wasn’t my secret to keep.”

“Hmm, good work.” Zimin grunted in satisfaction. “Okay, so if she calls, don’t pick up the phone, and don’t get together with her again until you hear from me.”

“Geez, this is like a spy novel,” I replied apprehensively. “Does she—”

“Does she what?” Zimin asked shortly.

“Suffer from vascular problems?”

Zimin laughed.

“Kif, I love you, you son of a bitch. You’re an artist with words.”

I chuckled along with him respectfully. He could be sending an army of enemies armed with .45s after me as we speak.

“Don’t worry about all this. As far as Marina is concerned, no, she’s fine. She wouldn’t get into insider trading; her thing is a little different. But you don’t need to know what it is—yet, at least.”

“Glad to hear it!” I replied with complete sincerity. “I’d rather not, and I probably wouldn’t find it all that interesting anyway.”

“Excellent, that’s what I like to hear. What else did I want to tell you? Oh, right. The Old Man wants to meet you.”

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything.

“He said to bring you over as soon as you successfully finish the dryad quest.”

“I guess that’s good?” I responded, trying to get a feel for the terrain.

“That?” Zimin was quiet for a second. “It took me by surprise. Also, it’s not that great for you, at least…”

“You’re making me nervous,” I said.

“No, not like that.” He snorted. “The boss isn’t going to eat you—I don’t think he’s ever gone after anyone in his life. But the fact that the Old Man wants to see someone just getting his feet wet in the company, considering that most people who have worked here since the beginning of time still haven’t met him, won’t do you many favors. So, just be ready for a lot of people to start thinking about how they can cut your legs out from under you. Of course, there’s the other side of that coin, too: you’re close to us—the Old Man’s right-hand men and, I think it’s safe to say, his heirs apparent—and you’ll have been to see him, so people will try to be friends with you. It could help them out, they’ll think.”

“Phew,” I exhaled. “If only things were as simple as they used to be…”

“Oh, stop it. We did give you a bonus, by the way. You’ll see for yourself for today.”

“Oops, I won’t be there. I’m headed to the temple. Could your girl give the money to Vika?”

“You’re not worried about putting money in your woman’s hands? She won’t spend it?” Zimin needled me.

“Vika? No, she won’t spend it,” I replied confidently. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Ah, Kif, still so young,” Zimin said. “You don’t know the first thing about women. But whatever, that’s not important. Oh, one last thing. Starting next week, we’re going to expand the paper the way we talked about. You can expect your new people to show up for work on Monday—Eliza will call your head editor. We’re going to keep the price the same, so that should make people happy.”

“She should call Mammoth, too, I mean, Pokrovsky, so he opens up the other two rooms in our wing for us,” I responded quickly. “Otherwise, we’ll be sitting on each other’s laps. And you should give Vika a raise since she’ll have more of the buggers to deal with now.”

“Well, aren’t we greedy!” Zimin said, clearly appreciative. “I like people like you.”

***

A little while later, we hung up. I called Vika to give her the good news and tell her to bring my money home, went out for a smoke, and climbed into the capsule. It was time to polish off the temples once and for all, or, at least, as much as I could. I was sick and tired of them.

A notification was the first thing I saw when I logged into the game.

The changes made to the game include an update to the condition for the Legend of Fayroll action.

To get it, complete 178 more actions in Fayroll.

The second thing that surprised me was that, for the first time in a little while, the base was a flurry of activity. What happened to the peace and quiet, the empty parade ground, Grokkh getting drunk? I could hear him yelling from a ways away.

“You’re a bunch of goats, and certainly not warriors worthy of the great Seventh Company! Tighten your belt, dummy!”

Everyone from our barracks was sitting on the steps. Everyone, that is, except Fattah, who I hadn’t seen in a while. At that rate, he wasn’t going to be sticking around long enough to get anything special.

My brothers in arms were watching the master lieutenant work over the troops standing at attention, cracking jokes at their expense as well as at Grokkh’s. Veterans are the same everywhere.

I got started just in time. Another day and I’d have been too late. I wasn’t even sure we’d be allowed to head off that day, and I walked over to my laughing comrades with that thought in my head.

“Hey everyone.” I sat down next to Lane and pointed over at the ranks lined up. “Fresh meat?”

“Tender and juicy,” Ur replied as he blew his nose. “They just came trooping in through the portal. Looks like our break’s over. They’ll split them up into the different companies, and we’ll be back in the thick of it.”

“Yes?” I said sadly. “Today?”

“Probably not today,” Lane responded, cheering me up. “They have to get them all assigned, and then there are briefings to do. We’ll get started tomorrow. Why? You have an offer?”

“What do you think?” I winked at him. “Only this time, I need you all to come into the temple with me. But wait, are you sure they’ll let us leave the base?”

“Let me go find out,” Lane said. He got up and walked confidently over to Grokkh.

“Fattah hasn’t shown up?” I asked the rest of the group.

“Nope,” Ping answered quickly. “Haven’t seen him.”

“Not for a while,” confirmed Pong.

Where could he have gone? Although, it was as good a time as any for him to take care of whatever he had on his plate.

Lane pulled himself up to attention in front of the master lieutenant and said something to him. The latter frowned slightly, though he nodded graciously.

“It’s fine. We can go,” Lane said as he walked back. “But it’s going to cost us a day off, since tomorrow we have missions.”

“That’s a shame,” Pong sighed.

“A crying shame,” Ping nodded.

“You don’t have to go with us. But I wouldn’t count on tomorrow being a day off even if you don’t.” Lane looked at the brothers. “Sounds like the companies have their work cut out for them.”

The pair thought for a second, and Lane turned to me in the meantime. “So where are we going? And what are we doing there?”

“We’re going…”

I realized that I hadn’t even checked to see, so I pulled out my map. The red spot was close to a village named Surdge, one the company and I had visited. It was about three hours away from the Monkey King Temple.

“We’re going…”

Lane pulled out his map and held it up.

“Just point.”

I did just that, and Lane frowned.

“Do I understand correctly…?” he said slowly before coughing and starting over. “Do I understand correctly that you want to visit the Temple of Hannuman or, as the locals call it, the Monkey King Temple?”

Ping gasped, Pong turned pale, and only Ur kept watching the newcomers, unperturbed. The name apparently meant nothing to the Northerner. Well, either that or he couldn’t care less about all these Southern biases.

“Exactly,” I replied. “Does that change anything?”

Lane was silent for a brief moment, clapping me on the shoulder when he finished thinking. “Just the price, as far as I’m concerned, and maybe my plans for the evening. I was planning on living to see it, though now I’m not sure. As far as the rest, I’m not sure what they’ll say.”

“I’m with you.” Ur, it so happened, really was listening to the conversation. “You can pay me the same money Lane asks for; he always knows how much things cost.”

Ping and Pong whispered to each other before Pong announced their decision. “We won’t take less than 1,500 gold each. Plus, we want drinks and girls in Maykong included for tonight—only the best, most expensive!”

“Agreed,” Lane said with a nod. “That’s a fair price, and that was a good point about drinks.”

“You got it,” I replied, looking the squad over. “I’ll give you the money up front, and drinks are on me. Lane, have you been to that temple?”

His face darkened slightly, and his answer came unwillingly. “I was nearby, though we didn’t actually go in. And don’t even ask when that was or who I was with,” he replied, cutting off the question I didn’t even have time to ask.

“You don’t have to tell me. I do want to ask, though, did you not go in because you couldn’t get there or for some other reason?”

Lane pursed his lips. “The person in charge turned us around at the last minute. I’m not sure why. There wasn’t much keeping us from going in. It’s a dark spot, but we didn’t have to do any fighting. There was nobody on the road to the temple, or at least nobody there that I saw. The locals don’t venture anywhere near it.”

“Bunch of superstitions…” Ur said as he stood up. “We have hills up in the North where they say there’s an ocean of the dead. I’ve been to see them, and there was nothing…”

I wouldn’t say that…you just got lucky, my friend.

“So, if we’re agreed, I can pay you, and we can leave?” I glanced around at the group, and everyone nodded. “Lane, you can get us as close to the temple as possible?”

Lane nodded again, still lost in his own thoughts.

Ten minutes later, we were all dressed and ready to go. We were about to leave when we were stopped by a shout from Grokkh.

“Hold it right there!” The green-skinned commander ran over and started checking us out capriciously.

“Is something wrong, Lieutenant?” boomed Ur.

“Master Lieutenant,” Grokkh responded, adopting the intonation of his dead goblin friend. “Since when do you go see girls dressed up in full battle gear?”

“It’s times like these,” Lane said, looking away, “when you just never know what to expect.”

“Okay, listen up,” Grokkh said, his words gaining a new harshness. “If I hear that you’re out swashbuckling on your own, I’ll drive you off into the Sumaki Mountains, right into the mines. And you know I do what I say I’ll do.”

“Master Lieutenant,” I said, getting involved, “Lane’s right. Things are rough these days, and you can’t be sure of anything. Also, we don’t know anything about the new recruits here in our glorious Seventh Company, where they’re from, what they’re up to. You know how it is—better safe than sorry.”

Grokkh squinted at us one more time, though he kept his comments to himself and headed back to the new conscripts.

Lane opened the portal, and we stepped into the blue film.

***

Why do all these abandoned temples have to be off in the damn jungle? It was becoming a trend, like in some Kipling novel. Why can’t they have just one on a sunny plain, with the wind brushing your face? Somewhere that doesn’t stink of rotting plants, and where it isn’t so incredibly muggy. Why?

But no, the developers knew what they were doing, and we were greeted by a dim twilight, plants crunching underfoot, and a mucousy smell that let us know something was crawling around somewhere…

The first thing I did was open the map and see that the temple was fairly close. Lane and his group really had stopped just short. I wonder why he was here. And who was he with? One thing I was sure of; he wouldn’t be telling me. That wasn’t the kind of person he was.

“We’re going that way.” I jabbed a finger in the direction of our destination and set off. Ur was behind me, the brothers were behind him, and Lane brought up the rear.

I estimated that it would take us twenty or thirty minutes to get there, which was child’s play compared to what we’d had to deal with up to that point. To my great surprise, we made it to the temple without incident.

It just so happened to be exactly what I had wished for. The temple was on a field that appeared as if out of nowhere in the middle of the jungle. To complete the circle, it should have been overgrown with trees, vines, and other green Southern nastiness but it wasn’t. The field was perfectly round, it was covered in short grass, and the building itself didn’t look timeworn in the least. Its gilded walls even glinted in the sun. The round roof was crowned with a presumably gold statue of a monkey. It held a staff in one hand and some kind of horn in the other. I had no idea what that was about.

“There it is, the cursed temple,” Lane muttered.

“What do you mean, ‘cursed’?” Ur snorted. “Getting here was so easy, we might have been walking down the main street in Maykong.”

“Gold,” Pong whispered as he stared at the statue in spellbound wonder.

“Absolutely gold. If we could just get it down from the roof,” added Ping.

“Hey, warriors,” I said, interrupting their baser instincts. “We’re going to take care of my mission first, and then you’re free to do whatever you want. But not before then, okay?”

“I wouldn’t advise it anyway,” Lane chimed in. “The gods left, of course, but still—it’s a bad idea. They always guard what’s theirs, even when they aren’t at home.”

The brothers glared at him wordlessly before a smirk came over both their faces at the same time.

We walked out of the forest and headed toward the temple. The field wasn’t large, and I couldn’t figure out where the three enormous figures looming in front of us had appeared from.

They were…I don’t know, gorillas? Though they dwarfed the gorillas, we have in the real world. I could only assume that they were grandchildren of King Kong, only with felted and, for some reason, white fur.

Swords rang as they slid out of their sheaths, and we huddled close together, shields tight and swords out. The giants were in no hurry. They ambled their way around us, almost as if they were deciding who they were going to kill first. The possibility that they might not be able to send us off to the gods didn’t seem to occur to the furry, fanged beasts.

“Temple guards?” Lane assumed.

“Our death warrant,” Pong whispered thinly.

“That one, the biggest one, he’s mine!” Ur barked. “I’m going to make a necklace out of his teeth; I’ll be the only one with anything like it.”

“Teeth”… I wasn’t sure they fit the title. If we knew nothing else, we could at least see that they were meat-eaters.

The temple guards paused, one of them roared, and they started beating their chests, letting our circle know that the end was near. I thought, however, that they might have been getting ahead of themselves, seeing as how—

Just then, the grass around us started to move suspiciously, until first one and then another guard bellowed piteously. A black streak of slack-jawed lightning leaped out of the grass to latch onto the third’s face.

“What the…?” Ur boomed in surprise.

The largest of the trio, their leader, ripped the snake off his face with a howl, but not before the little bugger could strike his nose several times. Judging by the way they looked and how they attacked the gorillas, I assumed that the snakes were ringhals. One after another they leaped, spitting venom and landing on the furry white killers. I had no idea what was going on, though I wasn’t about to complain…

You received unexpected aid from the Fayroll animal world.

Clarification:

This aid is a random bonus received because you completed a quest in the Children of the Goddess series. It cannot be summoned, and it cannot be received more than once every seven days.

One thing was for sure—it was a great time for help to arrive. In fact, it was perfect…seriously.

The giants had collapsed to the ground, and the convulsions shaking their powerful bodies told me that they were nearing the end.

All that experience going to waste? I ran over and slammed my sword into the eye of the closest one to me. He bellowed, twitched, and gave his soul up to Hannuman. A happy smile on my face, I turned, only to step on the tail of one of the snakes. It hissed angrily and flashed its fangs at me, though it decided against trying to actually bite me. Off it slithered toward the forest where, judging from the grass, the rest of its friends were going as well.

I grabbed the loot from the dead giant and noticed that the other two had been finished off by my group. They were standing there staring at me suspiciously.

“Hey, Hagen,” Ping asked, coughing, “you aren’t a wizard, by any chance, are you?”

“Yeah, are you?” Pong added cautiously.

Lane didn’t have a question to add, though he hadn’t put his sword back in its sheath. Ur couldn’t be bothered with questions; he was too busy knocking the biggest gorilla’s teeth out.

“Are you serious? If I were a wizard, what would I need the lot of you for?” I asked with the frankest face I could manage. “Plus, we could have taken those monkeys on our own.”

It was true, incidentally. Sure, they would have given us a run for our money, but the balance of power was in our favor. I still should have had Lane find an archer for us. He knew half the Free Companies, and he definitely would have been able to.

“That makes sense.” Lane nodded and put away his sword. “Let’s head into the temple before something else jumps us.”

***

The temple entrance was closed, and I was about to curse when the golden doors creaked open. A piquant smell wafted out to greet us. Torches lined the walls, lighting our way into the temple.

“Damn, that’s terrifying,” Ping whined.

“And you’re a mercenary?” Lane said sadly. “The Free Companies aren’t what they used to be.”

“I’m not afraid of living enemies,” Ping shot back.

“Dead ones either. But that…nasty,” Pong said supportively.

On the inside, I was with the brothers. The temple really did look like a nasty place. But I didn’t have a choice, so I stepped inside.

You entered the Temple of Hannuman, the Monkey King. In ancient times, this was where deals were often cut between the Departed Gods, and the temple proprietor was frequently called as a witness. The walls of this old temple still remember the voices, the power, and the ambition of the Old Gods.

Note:

You entered the temple as part of a group, and have therefore forfeited your claim to the bonus reward.

Difficulty level: standard (default)

Additional note: You can only visit the Temple of Hannuman once. If you die as part of any quest related to the temple, you will fail that quest.

The temple can be left without counting as your visit until you use a key to open any of the doors inside it related to your quest. Once you use a key, you can only exit the temple by successfully completing the quest or by dying.

Note: portal scrolls do not work inside the temple.

Well, that’s harsh, I thought, realizing that dying would mean that everything I’d done up to that point would have been a waste. Losing everything I’ve worked for? Damn…

“What are you waiting for?” Lane shoved me. “Come on, let’s get going. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. We’ll get this done and go find some girls. Ur, you and I are behind Hagen, you two bring up the rear.”

The corridor was empty save for the light from the torches and the shadows we cast on the walls. It was long and winding, leading inexorably downward. That, apparently, was why the temple was so small. Most of it was below ground. From time to time, we came across doors on either side, and I couldn’t help but note their variety. They were wooden, stone, carved, with and without bas-relief, and one was even crystal and semi-transparent to the point where we could see some kind of coffin atop chains and surrounded by small, frozen figures. The doors were all closed, however, and the interface gave me a single message for each of them.

You don’t have the key to that door.

Finally, at the end of the hall, was a door decorated with an elaborately carved monkey with a staff and that same horn in his hands. He was delivering the knockout blow to a large snake. It was good, quality craftsmanship. Already just about to give up hope, I gave that door a push as well, and, to my surprise, it opened.

You used the Key of Bravery.

Ah-ha, bingo. The only questions remaining were what awaited us on the other side and whether the five of us would be up to the task.

I turned to give my troops a pep talk, but only two of them were standing there: Lane and Ur. The brothers were gone.

“Where are the other two?” I blinked in amazement.

Lane spun around quickly and spouted off a string of curses; he was an artist when he wanted to be. It seemed that everything he chose to do was done deftly and well.

“They ran off, the bastards!” Ur spat. “Those animals. And they did it quietly; I didn’t hear a thing. Don’t worry, though, we’ll make them give you your money back.”

“Screw the money,” I said, crestfallen. “The problem is that we’re two men down!”

“We’ll be fine,” Ur assured me. “Even just the three of us are a force to be reckoned with. Plus, it’s been quiet so far. We’ve come this far, and we haven’t come across anyone.”

Warning: if you don’t enter the temple room within 30 seconds, the door will close, and you will fail the quest.

A timer started to count down in the left corner of the interface. 30…29…28… Damn it!

“Okay, let’s go. We can nail them to the wall later,” I ordered darkly as I stepped across the threshold.

***

From the seventh edition of the Fayroll Times:

From the editor:

Our paper is about to get even bigger, as we expand the amount of useful, widely varied information we bring to you about the wonderful, fascinating world of Fayroll. There will be new columns…

Personal Transport: Expensive, But Oh, So Convenient

…can afford to buy a horse. The price, however, isn’t the primary obstacle standing between you and owning one. There’s an incredibly difficult quest series you have to beat if you want to learn how to ride horses, with two of the quests linked to group dungeons. You also have to build up a significant reputation in the NPC guild of grooms and stablemen.

The Fayroll Legal System

…the judge can simply sentence you to a prison term or correctional work. Your sentence term will be based on the game time, which may not seem that bad, but it’s important to remember that the game time is linked to actual time. Getting ten years for murder means it would be easier to delete your character than to come back time and again to find it toiling away in the mines or quarries. Even death isn’t good enough to ease the burden of justice. You can, of course, dig deep into your pocket…

Excerpts from the Fayroll Chronicle

The Fortune’s Favorites alliance successfully completed their expedition to the left bank of the Crisna, reaching the Skeleton Emperor’s palace. The alliance achieved its first victory, announcing its entrance into the gaming community by beating an incredibly difficult raid.

Ivan the Light, one of the game’s most well-known knights, single-handedly cleared a nest of vampires in the Western Reaches’ Twilight Forest. The quest, which was designed for a group of six players, had him freeing a girl who stupidly fell in love with one of the vampires against her parents’ wishes. Sadly, the quest was a failure. Even though the knight was able to destroy the entire bloodsucker nest, one of them was able to bite the girl and turn her into a vampire. The knight mercilessly finished her off once he realized what had happened, failing the quest in the process.

A soccer game between two dwarf teams, the Stone Balls and the Underground Cleats, ended in a brawl. Only twenty minutes were played before someone said something, and that’s when everything got started. Not a single game between dwarf teams, we should note, has ever been played through to half-time without breaking into a fight.

Hooray, competition time!

Dear readers,

Beginning with this issue of the Fayroll Times, the paper and Raidion, the game’s developer, will be running competitions offering a variety of prizes related to the Fayroll world. They will include game items, equipment, weapons, bonuses, hints, and even new quests.

The prize for the inaugural competition will be a month of free playing time for each of the three winners.

Competition rules:

Send in funny screenshots from the game. They can be of your player alone, with a group of players, or even with NPCs, so long as they’re actually funny.

The paper’s editorial staff will be evaluating your submissions, with our head editor casting the deciding vote. We will be accepting screenshots until 5 p.m. Tuesday.

Please submit them to the paper’s email address listed at the end of this issue, putting “For the competition” in the subject line.

In the next edition:

Abandoned Cities of the East: a Short Excursion

Chapter Sixteen

In which the hero manages to recognize himself.

Notice:

You have begun a quest tied to the Temple of Hannuman. Because of that, you cannot leave the temple until you complete the quest or are killed in the attempt. Logging out of the game will fail the quest.

But what if there’s a bug? Or my electricity goes out? Sure, the latest-generation capsule model I was playing in had its own energy sources, but still…

The room we walked into was large and dimly lit, and the torches on the walls were set up to cast light on the middle of the room. The walls and ceiling faded into the gloom.

“Like some kind of arena,” Ur hissed. “We have something like it in the capital, in a pub called the Griffin and Chariot. They have battles there every Friday, and even the könig stops by once in a while.”

“You’re right, barbarian,” somebody’s voice boomed out of nowhere. “It is, in fact, an arena and, in it, you will prove to me that you have the right to continue on. If you are weak and impotent, you have no business being in this temple, in which case, the reward waiting at the end of this path is not for you.”

“Let me ask you a question right off the bat,” I quickly replied. “Is this going to be a collective battle or a duel? Also, who will the opponents be? What if you send out some gigantic strong men the entire forces of all the kingdoms put together couldn’t beat?”

“It is for you to decide if you will fight in a group or if just one of you will do battle in the arena.” So he’s a fan of democracy, at least. “There will be three opponents regardless, as there are three of you. You have every right to limit the battle to a set of duels. If you do so, however, there is one condition—you cannot switch fighters. Whoever fights in the first duel will fight in the following two, as well. If he wins, you all continue on. If he dies, the rest of you die, as well. Regarding the strength of your opponents… While they are equal to you in strength, they have the experience of many battles behind them.”

“Great,” I said. “And what if we decide to fight together?”

“Then you will fight together, though with the same opponents.”

“We’re going to take a minute to discuss our choice,” I told the voice before turning to look at my companions.

“We need to fight them all at once,” I said, “otherwise—”

“That’s ridiculous,” cut in Lane. “There will be more trials, right?”

“Yes, two more,” I replied.

“We have a better chance of winning if we all fight,” Lane said, looking at Ur. “Though there’s also a very good chance that all three of us will walk away wounded and weakened. But I doubt any of them will be a match for Ur one on one, and the two of us will be healthy and able to cover for him the rest of the way if he’s wounded.”

“You talk so much,” Ur responded as he pulled out and brandished his sword. “All you had to do was tell me to go fight. All these chances, healthy, wounded…I barely understand you, anyway.”

“Have you made your choice?” asked the voice.

“Yes,” I replied. “Here is our champion.”

Ur stepped out into the middle of the hall and swept his sword around a couple more times to warm up his muscles. A roar rang through the room, and a tiger leaped out of the darkness across from him. It snarled again, mouth gaping wide, and crept closer on its stomach.

“Beasts,” Lane whispered next to me. “Animals… Not humans; animals… They’re the worst thing to fight.”

“It’s a good thing all three of us didn’t jump in,” I noted pragmatically. “That tiger would have left us all nice and sliced up.”

Animals really are the worst. Although Ur was incredibly agile and shifty for his size, beating the tiger and the enormous panther that followed it was anything but easy. Blood flowed freely from a number of cuts, and his left leg was dragging noticeably. One of the two predators had landed a strike with their clawed paws.

“A-a-and the third opponent!” The voice had fully embraced its role as ring announcer. “The daring, brave, and valiant Trom Bonecrusher!”

I nearly collapsed in shock. Into the ring strode an honest-to-goodness Neanderthal…or at least something that looks awfully similar. Either way, it was a wild man wearing an animal skin and holding a club. He was covered in thick hair, and his eyes were crazed. It wasn’t so much that he wasn’t intelligent; there were no thoughts in his head. A caveman, in a word.

“And who is that?” Lane’s eyes popped out of his skull as well. “He looks awfully wild.”

“That’s what he is,” I replied. “That’s a distant ancestor of ours. Once upon a time, we all looked like that.”

“This is bad,” Lane said, his lips pursed. “Wild men aren’t afraid of pain, blood, or death, so they fight to the end…”

“Oh, come on; Ur will be fine.” I was trying to cheer myself up as much as him.

The humanoid Trom bellowed, beat his chest with his fists, tore out a few handfuls of hair (presumably, to get himself even more angry) and dashed toward Ur, who tried to catch him with the blade of his two-handed sword. Despite the fact that the caveman was running in a straight line, Ur couldn’t handle what had appeared to be a simple task. Trom ducked away from the blade and slammed his club into Ur’s shoulder.

The crunch of bone was so loud, it echoed somewhere up around the ceiling. Ur went white, his arm dangled, and his sword clattered to the floor.

With an exultant shout, Trom swung his club again, this time meeting nothing but air. Ur had dodged the blow, and he grabbed the wild man from the side and threw him to the ground. The latter yelled when he dropped his club and began battering the Northerner with his fists—one of his shots caught and broke a rib. In the meantime, the fingers on Ur’s good arm grabbed hold of the wild man’s throat, right when Trom stopped throwing punches and went for the neck as well.

The next minute or two saw the giants rolling around on the floor, the picture an odd one when coupled by their wheezing and groaning.

Bom-m-m. A bell rang out through the hall.

“You have passed the trial, and can continue on,” the voice announced impassively.

We ran over to our friend, although the way he was laying made us think that he had to be dead.

Once we got Trom’s pincer-like arms off of Ur’s throat, we found that he was alive, looking at us, doing his best to smile. Everything about him was an attempt to show us that he was going to get up and walk away. But it was with that smile on his face that he slipped away into the eternal light, green fields, and digital Valhalla.

“What the hell is this?” I yelled into the darkness. “Broken ribs, crushed windpipes, and you call this a game?”

The pain deep inside me spoke to the fact that I was sure I’d lost an actual friend—a little clumsy, but always near and true to the end. Someone like Fat Willie, who Ur had always reminded me of.

“What?” Lane’s voice brought me back to reality. “What are you yelling about?”

“I’m just upset,” I muttered. “I feel bad about Ur.”

“He was a warrior, by Tekhosh, and a good one,” Lane said with a shrug. “None of us get to die in our beds—not him, not me, not you. We should bury him, though. If we come back this way, we’ll take his body with us.”

“If we come back,” I sighed.

I crossed the lit area and walked over to the wall across from the exit. The flickering torches were enough for me to see a small door in it, and I pushed it open.

You used the Key of Guile.

The next room was lit by a golden shimmer. And that made sense, given the fact that it was littered with piles of gold coins, gold bars, and statues made out of the very same gold. It’s like Mecca for anyone with a greedy streak. The trap seemed oddly simple and straightforward, but it also made sense—grab some and die. The key was for guile, not greed, so I had to assume there was something more to it.

Lane looked around and barked an order. “Follow me, step exactly where I step!”

“Are you sure you know where to go and how to get there?” I asked in surprise.

“How? No. Where? Yes. You’re paying me to get you where you want to go, so let me do my job.”

I thought for a second and agreed he was right.

Whatever else Lane might have been, he was thorough to a fault. He took twenty or thirty seconds to plan each step, and only when he was satisfied, did he move forward. The room was neither wide nor long, but it took us a good ten minutes to cross it. Still, I couldn’t figure out how I was expected to be sly or cunning in my movements. We stepped on gold since there was no way around it, and at one point, I even slipped and touched a statue, but nothing happened. What guile? This is dumb.

We’d gotten to the other side and were standing in front of the door when Lane looked over at me, confusion written all over his face. “Weird, I still don’t understand what—”

Just then the stone he was standing on clicked softly. A blade flew out of the wall, and I saw it jutting toward me out of Lane’s back.

Bom-m-m. The bell rang out, breaking the silence.

“You failed the trial, though you paid the price in blood, and it will count. You may continue on,” the familiar voice announced with no emotion whatsoever.

The blade slid back into the wall, leaving Lane to sink down to his knees and then collapse on his side. I knelt down next to him and cradled his head.

“Oh, Gods, it was so simple. That’s what you need the guile for. Do you see? If you let your attention wander for just a second, you lose. So simple,” Lane coughed. “So simple.”

Could player potions work on him? I thought. Deciding to give it a try, I dumped out all the potions I had in my bag.

“Here take these,” I said, thrusting them into his arms. “Drink them all; they may help.”

“Just keep going,” Lane replied, pushing me away. “I may die or I may not, but you’re no doctor. You can’t help. If you finish this, come back and get me; if not, I’ll probably die here anyway. Don’t waste time; I probably don’t have much left.”

I leaned him up against the wall, headed toward the door hiding the last trial, and pushed it open.

You used the Key of Wisdom.

Darkness met me right at the doorway. I glanced back at Lane to see him pulling a rag out from under his collar, apparently hoping to stop the blood. He wasn’t paying me a lick of attention as he sat there wheezing.

I sighed and stepped into the darkness.

It didn’t last for long. As soon as I was inside and the door closed behind me, a blinding light hit me with the power of two or three suns. It slammed into my eyes, which I instinctively covered with my hand.

“What?” a familiar voice said. “Magic, and it’s just as good as any electric searchlight, no?”

“Certainly,” I muttered. “It’s blindingly good; I can’t see a thing. You think that’s fair?”

“Oh, come on,” the voice answered. “You’re looking for things to be fair after you broke into someone else’s temple. You want to leave with a treasure stored here for centuries, and you say it’s not fair?”

“It’s a game,” was all I could mumble. “So you can take your moralizing somewhere else.”

“A game, not a game, whatever. That doesn’t change the concepts human society has developed throughout history. So, you’re saying it’s fine to break into temples and steal so long as you’re playing a game?”

“Of course. And if you’re playing a thief, that’s how you have to do it. It’s the only way you can level-up your class abilities.”

“Just a bunch of sophistry,” the voice replied. “Though there’s something to it, I won’t deny that. Light!”

I heard a clap, and the blinding light dimmed to something more reasonable. My eyes no longer in danger, I pulled my hand away from them and, for the first time, saw the person I was speaking to standing a few steps away from me. Looking at me with a smile and a wink was an incredibly familiar face. And why not familiar? I was looking at myself.

“Mmm?” I spun around in front of me. “Surprised?”

“What’s there to be surprised about?” I grunted. “If you’d have told me you were my father, sure, but this…”

“It would have been plagiarism if I’d said that,” the second me said. “This is more a non-trivial turn of events.”

“A predictable and worn-out trope,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s happened a hundred times, in the movies and in books, too.”

“How am I supposed to know what’s in your books, not to mention movies I’ve never even heard of?” he shot back. “They haven’t been invented here yet.”

“You know about ‘I’m your father,’ but not about literature?” I was having a hard time believing me. “You’ve obviously been digging around in my head; that wasn’t hard to guess, seeing as how you’re in my skin. So, the rules of the genre say that you’re supposed to know everything. You’re lying if you say anything else. That’s how it goes.”

“So what if it does?” I replied cantankerously. “What’s the problem? I’ll do what I want.”

“Okay, this isn’t going anywhere.” There was no point getting into an argument with myself while Lane lay wounded on the other side of the door. “What do you need? Or, maybe, what do you want?”

“That’s a strange question,” my twin said with a grunt. “I don’t want you to have what’s in there.”

The other me’s hand gestured toward a small cabinet in the corner of the room.

“Why not? It doesn’t belong to you, does it?” I was starting to realize who I was talking to, and I didn’t like it in the least. If I’m right, and I can prove it, I’m going to have to call Zimin as soon as I get out of the game. Does he know what’s going on here? The kind of quest this was meant that the whole thing was closely monitored, and so he probably did, but the whole thing was very odd.

“No, it doesn’t,” the other me said with a smile. “But it doesn’t belong to you either.”

“A-ha-a-a,” I said, waving a finger under that me’s nose. “It may not belong to me but I have a quest for it and I’m supposed to return it to its rightful owner.”

“You think she’s its owner?” I replied indignantly. “She wasn’t even around when it was created.”

“Okay, can we wrap this up? It’s pointless,” I said. “Are you going to give me the gong of your own free will or am I going to have to take it by force?”

“The gong?” I swear by all that is holy, the other me was shocked. “Why the gong?”

“Because that’s what I need! I need the gong!” I was starting to get frustrated.

If I’m actually this dense in real life, and especially if I make that idiotic face, I’m starting to realize why Elvira was always mad at me. And poor Vika… How can she possibly live with me?

“Hmm, the gong… Well, I won’t give you the gong, either.”

“Because I don’t have the right papers?” My frustration was turning to anger.

“No,” my twin answered, his tone overly friendly. “Because you’re a dead man, and dead men don’t need things like that.”

His sword, which at least looked the same as the one I had, lashed out even before he finished talking.

I wasn’t exactly expecting him to attack but I’d gradually been easing my way backward as we talked—and that was what saved my skin. The sword whistled past my stomach and somehow didn’t slice through my face.

“You rat!” I roared at me, pulling out my sword as well.

Steel clashed with steel, our blades swept along each other’s to be stopped by the guards, and two identical faces found themselves staring at each other, teeth grinding.

We pulled our swords back and started to circle each other. A strike I aimed at the lower half of his body was blocked instantly, and he, in turn, incorrectly thought a feint would disguise his intention to cut through my upper half.

“We could be at this for a while,” I noted.

“No, not more than an hour,” my twin answered cold-bloodedly. “That’s when you’ll start to get tired, and I’ll pick that moment to slice open your guts.”

“Well, aren’t we bloodthirsty!”

“It’s justice,” he explained. “I didn’t come after you; you came here to me. We already discussed this. And it’ll be justice for you to die at your own hand.”

I took another two steps backward and, carefully watching his sword, tried to figure out what bothered me about what he’d just said.

Die at your own hand. Why not at his? Maybe he can’t kill me? He couldn’t have had much of a physical body, meaning that killing mortals would have been tricky for him. Also, most of the gods in the myths I’d read weren’t allowed to kill mortals. Unless the mortals themselves…

“You’re right,” I told my twin. “You’re right about everything.”

“What?” My eyes popped out of my head.

“I came to your temple, I tried to take something that belongs to you, I walked all over everything… Go ahead, kill me.”

Wouldn’t it be perfect if he up and slammed his sword into my side?

“Ah, damn it,” the second me said, disappointment on his face and his sword clattering to the floor. “You guessed?”

“The trial or who you actually are?” I asked.

“Both.” My double started to melt into the air.

“I guessed the first one almost right away, though the second took me until just now,” I replied honestly.

“Good work. The only problem is that you picked the wrong god to worship.” The other version of me was almost transparent, and my facial features blurred. They took on a grotesque shape before starting to look more and more like a monkey. “Oh, what we could have done if you’d have picked me!”

“Well, I can’t do anything about that now,” I responded with a shrug.

“That’s a tricky question—we’ll discuss it later. Just remember,” the voice said, the form now almost invisible, “that you can’t put too much stock in what the gods or their servants say. For everything they give you, they demand double in return. I do the same thing.”

Bom-m-m. The bell rang out once more.

“You passed the trial and can collect your reward,” the voice called out, as dispassionately as ever.

Ah-ha! I made it to the end. To be fair, I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t hit me that I was talking with Hannuman himself. I’d realized that when I saw the way the second me moved—it was much more monkey-like than human—and the statue on the roof had helped as well. All that was left of the gods was a few rocks they’d touched as well as their deep, hidden temples. Not many could get into them, and you only had a shot if you knew where they were. But you? You have a whole statue, and it’s even made out of gold. That didn’t happen. From there, the logic was simple. But why he was there in the first place was a completely separate matter. Why is he in Fayroll if all the rest departed? That was the question I needed to answer, or at least, I really wanted to.

I walked over to the cabinet the monkey god had pointed at and opened it. It didn’t have a hook, a lock, or anything—just a handle.

There was a selection of items on the shelves inside: crystal shards, a fan, a funny little contraption that looked like a braided bracelet, a necklace made with teeth that looked like they came from an enormous animal, a dog collar, a stone rod covered in runes, a tiny guillotine, a ruby that flashed blood-red in the light, and quite a bit more.

I’m taking it all; it’s mine now, I thought greedily, recognizing that everything in front of me represented both powerful artifacts and my retirement in both the digital and real worlds.

“Yeah, right!” a familiar voice whispered in my ear, mixing sarcasm with threat. “Take your gong, and then I don’t ever want to see you in my temple again. We’ll meet somewhere else later if you want.”

The items in the cabinet shook as if pushed aside by an invisible hand, and I saw the gong perched up against one of the sides. It was small and made from brass, a disk hanging from two rings. I reached out and took it.

You completed a quest: Gong of the Goddess.

You found the Gong of the Goddess.

To receive your reward, talk to Idrissa the South.

Ah, that has to be it. I’ll dump it in my bag and get out of here. I hope Lane is still alive.

“And never come back,” the darkness rustled behind me. I couldn’t see him, though I could certainly sense that he was there. Something creaked, I saw the light of the doorway and stepped through it, and just barely missed having the door smack me in the rear end.

“Success?” a pale Lane asked from his spot slumped against the wall. Blood pooled under him.

“Yep, everything’s fine. Did you drink the potions?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t work on me, and I didn’t want to waste them.” Lane held the vials and beakers out to me.

I stashed them in my bag, grabbed him under the arm, and started toward the exit. His body was limp, his legs barely working.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” I said. “We’ll get you back to the base, and the doctor will get you all patched up. Then we’ll go out for a drink—something nice and expensive!”

“Better some Grenwi Vine,” Lane muttered. “Back then, I tried some on a bet in my father’s castle…”

Great, so he’s hallucinating now…

***

Back in the arena, neither the wild man’s body nor Ur’s was anywhere to be seen. It was like they’d evaporated into thin air.

“I hope they buried the Northerner with honor,” Lane saying, coming out of his stupor. “He deserved that.”

I didn’t say anything, though I was sure he had been. Hannuman was a rogue’s rogue, though he obviously had an appreciation for people who knew their way around a fight.

“The only problem,” Lane mumbled as we stumbled our way up the corridor, “is that I can’t kill those two bastards. They need it. Can you take care of that yourself?”

“Why not?” I replied. “Although it was actually a good thing they weren’t with us.”

“Yes?” Lane said, surprised.

“Of course,” I informed him confidently. “Just imagine what they would have done in the room with the gold. We never would have gotten out there. The trap was one thing, though I’m sure the gold was cursed.”

“Agreed,” Lane said with a nod. “But they still need to die.”

“If they need to die, they’ll die,” I replied compliantly. “Just as soon as we get out of the temple and back to the base.”

“That’s the exit right up there.” Lane’s voice was getting weaker and weaker.

I took a deep breath of fresh air as we walked out of the temple. This had better be the last time I have to deal with—

“Ah-ha, we’ve been waiting for you,” said an awfully familiar voice that dashed my hopes of getting back to the base undisturbed. “We were starting to get worried, we thought something might have happened to you, my friend.”

Chapter Seventeen

In which the hero decides he got off easy.

“Who’s that so concerned about us?” Lane croaked.

“Our welcoming party,” I responded gloomily as I looked around at the five players forming a semi-circle twenty steps away from the temple. “Complete with balloons and flowers.”

And it was indeed a warm welcome we received. There were Miurat, who was smiling amiably; a serious-faced Romuil; an archer I didn’t know named Drang; Fattah, who waved when our glances met; and… Ah-ha! That’s who I couldn’t put my finger on in Maykong. Really, it wasn’t much of a surprise that I’d had a hard time recognizing him since we’d only met once. It was Ronin, who I’d cut up skeletons with way back in Gringvort when I was a Thunderbird noob. The same one who hadn’t been let into the clan because he was a poor-tempered rat.

He had apparently found a group that fit him, and it really was quite the group. He’d also found a pretty good clan; over his head, as well as those of the rest of the welcoming party, was the symbol and name of the clan they belonged to. In this case, it was two shields turned toward each other, and the name made it clear for anyone who hadn’t guessed already that they were with the Double Shields.

“Surprised?” Miurat was enjoying the situation. He really was a born actor; his timing was impeccable, he always had an audience, and he performed like he was on stage. Like a little Nemirovich-Danchenko.

“Yep,” I answered. “I didn’t expect this in the least. And, to be honest, I’m a bit surprised by who’s here.”

“How many are there?” Lane asked. He was still leaning heavily on my shoulder, and by that time, he couldn’t even lift his head. Things were looking bad for him. “Can the two of us take them?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine without you, even,” I assured him. “As soon as I send you back to base, I’ll chop them into pieces.”

Ronin guffawed loudly, while sarcastic smiles flitted across the faces of Romuil and Drang.

“Miurat, let me send Lane back to our base. He didn’t do anything to you, and you won’t get anything from him dying,” I said.

“I heard you got in deep with the NPCs,” Ronin laughed, “but I thought everyone was lying—that does happen. But it turns out it’s true! What a loser.”

There was no point responding to him, and so I kept my gaze fixed on Miurat, who was obviously their leader. The officer symbol above his head next to the clan emblem also pointed to that fact.

“Well, if you don’t mind spending a scroll, then go for it. And really, you’re more than welcome to head back with him—alive and in one piece.”

“If?” I asked the predictable question, expecting an equally predictable answer.

“No ifs,” Miurat said with a smile. “It’s ‘as soon as.’ As soon as you give me what you got from the Temple of Hannuman.”

Huh, he knows whose temple it is. Although… There were plenty of quests tied to the temple, so, on second thought, I realized there wasn’t anything surprising about his admission. Their trap had been laid beautifully, as well, and I thought I knew how they did it, though I wanted to hear from the source if I was right. First, however, there was Lane. He’d lost consciousness as we talked, and I hoped that was all he’d lost. Okay, good, he’s breathing, if weakly. He’s alive.

“I imagine you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I didn’t get anything I could hand over to you?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Miurat confirmed. “But we can talk about that.”

“I’d be happy to, but first let me send my friend to see a doctor. Otherwise, he won’t make it.” Ronin and Drang snorted simultaneously when I referred to Lane as my friend.

“I don’t know how happy you’ll be, but as far as your friend goes,” Miurat said, turning to Fattah and nodding to him, “give your comrade here—or, rather, your former comrade—a scroll so he can send him where he needs to go.”

Fattah walked over and held out his hand. “This isn’t personal,” he said. “I hope you understand…”

“Sure, I do,” I replied, handing him a scroll and dumping Lane, who was still unconscious, onto his shoulder. “Your clan is your clan. I guess you aren’t in the Free Companies anymore?”

Fattah winked, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. We weren’t close, and it would have been hard to call us friends, but still, we’d fought together, had mutual acquaintances… Although there really aren’t any of those mutual acquaintances left.

“No,” he answered, looking away. “Not anymore. I bought out my contract.”

The portal flashed, and I let out a relieved sigh—I didn’t want the quintet to kill Lane as well as me. I knew I was doomed and wouldn’t be leaving the field alive. That wasn’t even a big deal since everybody dies in the game. I just wished I wasn’t looking at losing my sword and runes…

“Well, we kept our word,” Miurat said, clasping his arms behind his back and rocking on his heels.

“Thanks,” I said with complete sincerity. “Really—thanks. So who turned on me? Ping and Pong?”

“Do you even have to ask? You know their kind.” Miurat clearly had no desire to explain the obvious.

“It wasn’t even that expensive,” Fattah added unexpectedly. “Just a thousand gold.”

“Depends on what you compare that to,” I answered willingly. “A thousand from you, 1200 from me. When did you cut your deal with them?”

“Right away, pretty much as soon as I got to the base,” Fattah said with a grin. “They were the best choice in our squad, and I even made sure nothing happened to them in battle. It would have been a shame to have to find someone else.”

So he’s been after me from the very beginning?

“Wait, Miurat,” I said, my forehead creasing, “so you’ve been working me since the North?

“Yep.” Miurat looked at me proudly. “We actually started keeping an eye on you to see what we could find out about the Hounds; you were just an afterthought. But then you turned out to be quite the complicated character. And your friends are, too, NPCs and players alike. Take Wanderer, for starters. You’re obviously doing a quest that interests us greatly, though we haven’t actually been able to figure out which. And that was when I got involved. I chatted with a few players, did some digging, and started to put together such a fascinating picture that I decided to assign a personal guardian to you. He just recently started a new character—that happens with us sometimes. And that paid off.

You came here to the Temple of Hannuman, a bit of a mysterious, unknown spot. To get in, you had to get a hidden quest, and they’re variable; sometimes you get them, sometimes you don’t, and there’s no way of telling in advance. But it’s so long and difficult that a lot of people just give up as soon as they read the quest description. It’s true! Then you have to walk out of the temple on your own two feet, which is no mean trick in its own right. But they say the reward you get is incredible, and sometimes even unique. It used to be that a lot of people would hang around the temple hoping to ambush whoever came out, though they all gave up eventually—only rarely do people go in, and it’s even rarer that they come back out again. But you, you lucky duck, came out, and you clearly have something to show for it. With that in mind, my dear friend, give it to us, join our clan, and you’ll live happily ever after. You don’t even have to join if you don’t want to, but you do have to give us whatever you got.”

“Miurat, I really didn’t get anything I can hand over. I hate it, but you can even throw some powder in my face if you want.”

“Nah,” he replied, rubbing his palms together. “The powder might not work here since there’s a margin of error. Let me ask you to do the smart thing one more time—give us what you got in the temple and go live your life.”

I took a deep breath. “I really don’t know how to prove to you that I don’t have anything. It’s a shame the brothers ran off in the temple; they would have been able to tell you.”

“If they hadn’t run off, we wouldn’t have known anything about you,” Miurat noted. “They always had a scroll with them for exactly that purpose; Fattah gave it to them right at the beginning. I guessed where you’d be going, though, true, I couldn’t figure out when it would be.”

If you only knew where I’m actually going… It was a good thing he didn’t.

“There are quite a few abandoned temples here in the South, and most quests send you to one or another of them, but you visited two in one day. It was a matter of logic to guess which one would be next,” Romuil chimed in. “And that’s how it happened. You went into the temple, and here you are coming back out…”

“As soon as you went in, they ran off to Maykong to give us the news,” explained Miurat. “We made sure we always had someone waiting in the pub.”

“All that for me?” I was flattered by their attention. Apparently, I’m really going places. But the brothers…what bastards. I involuntarily pursed my lips.

“Mad at the brothers?” Fattah laughed shortly. “If it makes you feel any better, they’re as dead as Judas Iscariot.”

“You didn’t happen to string them up from a tree so you wouldn’t have to pay them, did you?” I quipped.

“Rats like that don’t need a tree,” Drang said, opening his mouth for the first time. “They’re lying in the grass over there to the left of the temple.”

I glanced over to see two charred shapes on the ground bearing a vague resemblance to human bodies. If nobody had said anything, I wouldn’t have noticed them.

“Are you kidding me?” I stared at the Double Shield.

“What are you talking about?” Miurat’s finger drew circles around his temple. “Who do you think we are? They did that to themselves!”

“We had no idea why they wanted to come back here with us, but they headed for the roof as soon as they stepped out of the portal,” Fattah explained. “They wanted to pull the gold statue off to sell it. Once they got to the top and grabbed hold of the statue, lightning struck and fried them. They fell right off onto the grass.”

“Sure did the job,” Romuil said appreciatively. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“At least there’s some justice in the world,” I said with a smile. “Maybe not everywhere, for everyone, or all the time, but there’s some.”

“And common sense?” Miurat wasn’t smiling anymore. “I imagine there’s some of that, no? Give us the reward, tell us about the quest, and we’ll all be happy. If not…”

“Then what?” I shrugged. “You’ll kill me? You’ll kill me either way. Ronin can barely control himself, he wants to tear into me so badly.”

“He won’t lay a finger on you without my order,” Miurat promised. “But if you’re going to be stubborn…”

“Miurat, I don’t know what I can swear on, but I don’t have anything. I just don’t.” I sighed tiredly. “If I could, I’d dump everything in my bag out for you to look through. I give you my word. I didn’t get anything in the temple. Sure, there was a lot of interesting stuff in there, but I didn’t get anything unique or even rare.”

“He doesn’t want to do this the easy way,” Drang said.

“That he doesn’t,” echoed Fattah.

“Then it’ll be the hard way.” Ronin pulled an axe with a massive blade out from behind his back.

“Come on, Hagen, you’re a smart guy,” Miurat said, holding up a hand in Ronin’s direction. The latter silently reslung his axe. “This isn’t the end here by the temple. In case you didn’t realize it, over there on the other side of the Crisna, the Double Shields have come out of the shadows. We have big plans for the game and quite a bit of support outside of it. Big changes are about to happen, both for the clans and the players in them—you can be sure of that. And the players are going to have to decide whose side they’re on. Some of them, in fact, won’t have a choice; you do.”

“Miurat, seriously!” I burst out at him. “Why the hell would I lie to you? I don’t have anything—really! Yes, I had a hidden quest, it was for a sleeping beauty.”

“For what?” Miurat was taken aback.

“In one of the rooms in the temple, there’s a crystal coffin hanging from some chains, and there’s a princess sleeping in it. Just like in Pushkin[7] or whatever…”

“Oh, please,” Fattah said, waving a hand dismissively at me. “You’re kidding.”

“Seriously!” I wouldn’t have believed me either, but I was in too deep to stop there. Where did that story come from? The coffin and the chains were there, sure, but the quest? “I failed the quest, though, so I didn’t get anything.”

“You’re a bad kisser?” Miurat asked darkly.

He was obviously trying to figure out if he should believe me or not.

“No, you’re supposed to put some things in a particular order, and I’m not good at logic puzzles. And you only get one shot, since you can only go into the temple once. So there you go.”

“He’s lying. I mean, he’s right that you can only go in once, though he’s lying about the quest,” Drang said shortly.

Fattah and the others were quiet.

“Okay, fine, let’s do this.” I knew it was a bluff, but I wanted to get as far away from that field as I could. I wasn’t risking the gong, after all, since it was a quest item and wouldn’t go anywhere. The runes, however… “Miurat, go ahead and kill me. You can do it, you can have Fattah do it, whatever. Then look through my things, and you’ll see for yourself that there isn’t anything like that.”

“Yeah, right,” Drang grunted. “What if it’s something that stays with you when you die?”

“Doubtful.” Miurat looked closely at me. “There aren’t many items like that in the game. Set items are, but you have to have almost the full set to unlock that ability. You can’t get quest items from dead people, and he was finishing a quest there anyway, and not getting one, so he probably wouldn’t have gotten a quest item anyway. But there’s one other thing—we don’t need your permission to kill you.”

“That doesn’t keep me from getting even one day,” I said with an impudent smile. “You know better than the rest, yes?”

Miurat smiled thinly, as if to say that yes, he did know a thing or two about me. Maybe he did; maybe he was trying to pull one over on me.

“I’m obviously nobody important, and just a tiny player in the game, but it’s still better to have more friends than enemies,” I replied, throwing a hand in the air. “So here’s what I propose: you kill me and see for yourself that I really don’t have anything, and then you return my things to me. We’ll part friends, and maybe we’ll even help each other out in the future. If not, then we won’t.”

Ronin laughed. “I love the nerve this guy has. Seriously! We’re going to—”

“Agreed,” Miurat interrupted, looking me in the eye. “If I don’t find anything in your things, I’ll send them back to you. I have one condition, however.”

“I’m all ears.” I was already staring at him.

“When the time comes, you’ll go to the Gray Witch and pass on what I tell you to give or say to her. Sound good?”

“Yep.”

The conditions weren’t great, and they were designed to cover just about anything. Still, taking the deal was better than losing everything I had with me.

“Miurat, let me kill him.” Ronin pulled his axe out one more time.

Miurat glanced at me, and I looked over at Ronin with a smile on my face. Come on, you rotten villain, kill the great and honest hero. It was like a movie.

“I won’t say I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” Ronin said as he walked over with an evil smile on his face. “I actually forgot about you almost immediately, though I remembered the whole thing as soon as I saw you. To be honest, I’m going to enjoy doing this.”

“Wipe the drool off your mouth,” I said squeamishly. “You’re getting it on me, and that’s disgusting.”

Ronin, who had jumped all the way up to Level 85, pulled back his axe and slammed it into me sideways.

The sensation was unpleasant, to say the least. The blow knocked me off my feet, and I noticed the foul grin on Romuil’s face and sympathy in Fattah’s eyes as I rolled across the grass. I didn’t have time to see what emotions Miurat and Drang were feeling, as Ronin, annoyed that he hadn’t killed me with one strike, brought his axe down on my head with a roar. I flew out of the field by the temple all the way back to the base.

I was met with an indignant cry that I didn’t recognize in the least. “Private, what are you doing looking like that?”

Underwear flashing in the sun, I turned and found myself nose to nose with a Lieutenant Trott I didn’t know. He was apparently one of the newly appointed officers, at least judging by the fact that his uniform didn’t have a spot of dirt on it. His face looked young, as well.

“I just got back from a mission,” I said jauntily, just as befits a veteran. “It happens, Lieutenant, it happens…”

“Yes, I understand,” the lieutenant replied quietly. “But you still shouldn’t be running around with your butt hanging out, soldier.”

“Lieutenant,” I replied, hoping he knew something about my friend. “A soldier should have dropped by through a portal recently—Lane, from the Seventh Company.”

“Yes, he was here.” He stroked his faded mustache. “He’s in the infirmary, though he’ll live.”

Thank God. That’s one less stain on my conscience.

I sighed happily and headed over to the barracks. The lieutenant was right, but I didn’t have much choice. If Miurat wasn’t an idiot or a complete rat, and I hadn’t noticed either that or greed on his part, my things would be arriving in the mail very soon. If not, well…I’d have to beg for a pass so I could fly back to Maykong, drop by the hotel, and head to the auction.

About ten minutes later, my things did, indeed, arrive, and they came with a letter from Miurat. Once I pulled everything out of the mailbox, I noticed that my gold and portal scrolls were missing. Whatever. Although, those scrolls are expensive. Worse, so were my runes—all three of them. That was taking things too far. The gold and scrolls I could just write off, but the runes… I was interested to see what he wrote and how he’d try to play off stealing them.

Strictly speaking, you weren’t lying. Strictly speaking. But I’m sure there’s something you didn’t tell me—I can feel it. Sadly, that isn’t something I can prove.

In keeping with our agreement, I’m returning your things, although, and I’m sorry, not all of them. Ronin said the gold and scrolls were his spoils, seeing as how he killed you. Barbarians, you know? Don’t be too hard on him. Anyway, we were talking about things, not gold and scrolls, and I’m sending you back all your things. Well, almost all of them.

I hope you won’t consider what Ronin didn’t a violation of our agreement—he wasn’t part of it, after all. I held up my end of the bargain, so I’ll consider you responsible for holding up your end.

Sincerely your friend, Miurat

P.S. It would be great to have you in our clan. Believe me, it’s not an offer you should refuse. M.

Well, that was interesting. I knew it wouldn’t have been right to push Miurat for my gold—he was right that he hadn’t promised to return it. But the letter… It was written half tongue-in-cheek, with plenty left unsaid between the lines. He was feeling me out to see what I’d do next. It certainly wasn’t that he needed my runes and gold.

It wasn’t that I was angry. I was more confused than anything, really, since I hadn’t expected that. He’d agreed to my terms, violated the agreement, pretended that nothing had happened, told me what a sincere friend he was, and underlined that he expected me to fulfill my part of the agreement. I was especially touched by his story about the out-of-control warrior. Sure, it was all him…

Miurat was anything but an idiot. He did exactly what he wanted and thought. Even if I didn’t understand what was going on, I did know one thing—there was a reason for it. He was just moving toward his objective, leaving bodies in his wake. But now it’s my move.

I did say I’d get even. And I’ll keep my word, though there’s no sense rushing things. I decided not to reply immediately, figuring that I could ask people smarter than me to decide what I should do. At the end of the day, it wasn’t my war, though the runes were a grudge I was going to hold on to...

Good afternoon,

I’d rather not bother you, though I think you should know that I was killed maybe twenty minutes ago by Miurat—I’m sure you remember him. Before he did it, he offered me a deal that has to do with you. If you’d like to hear the details, I can come tell you the whole story right now.

Just send me a portal scroll, please. He robbed me blind.

Best, Hagen

I sent the letter to the Gray Witch, who was online, and sat down on the steps to await her reply. It wouldn’t be that long of a wait, I thought, since she wasn’t that kind of person. She liked to get things done.

Three minutes later five portal scrolls arrived in my mailbox, which cheered me up. It was some kind of compensation, at least. That was one thing I liked about the Hounds. They didn’t count pennies like some other clans I knew.

Flavius, the Gray Witch’s perpetual gofer, was waiting to take me to her when I arrived.

“So, it was Miurat?” The mistress didn’t bother with a greeting, preferring to take the bull by the horns.

I was very surprised to find neither Fredegar nor Milly Re in her office. There was, however, an unassuming halfling named Radius blinking in one of the corners. I didn’t know him, and the fact that he was only Level 14 was odd, to say the least.

“He’s an animal,” I said. “He killed me and robbed me, though, to be fair, he didn’t take everything. Just my gold, my scrolls, and, most importantly, my runes. Bastard!”

“What runes?” Radius asked in a rustling tone of voice. “Were they valuable?”

“I have no idea how much they were worth,” I replied, “though they were certainly valuable to me. I got two of them for quests, and a good friend gave me the third. I can’t believe it.”

“Yes, that’s unpleasant,” said the Gray Witch. I could tell from the expression on her face that, even if it was unpleasant, the loss of my belongings mattered much less to her than hearing what had happened. “I hear you, and we’ll think about compensation later. In the meantime, tell me everything that happened, down to the last detail. Don’t skip a thing.”

“Um-m-m…” I glanced over at Radius.

“Oh, right.” The Gray Witch clapped herself on the forehead. “Radius, Hagen; Hagen, Radius.”

The halfling got up, gave me a ceremonial half-bow, and sat back down on his chair.

Okay, Miurat, let’s see what you think of this. I didn’t promise you I wouldn’t go straight to the Witch, so my conscience is clear.

I finished my detailed account (sure, I left out a few things, though it was more that I didn’t draw attention to them), and the mistress’s office fell silent.

Finally, Radius had a question. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” I replied with a nod.

“Well, I don’t think it is,” he said in a voice that sounded like a dying swan. “You didn’t explain what quest you were on in the temple. What was it called? What was the reward? Who gives it, and where? Is it a series or just a one-off quest? Where are the details?”

Fredegar was a playful kitten next to this guy. Who he belonged to and what his job was couldn’t have been clearer, and he was committed.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but that’s my business,” I said as tactfully as possible. “I can’t share those details with you or anyone else.”

“You misunderstand,” Radius replied softly. “Information like that is important since it gives us a complete picture to analyze. We need you to tell us.”

“Mistress,” I said, turning to the Gray Witch. “I’m not going to tell him anything, so can you have him get off my case? Quests are personal.”

“Radius, calm down.” The Witch walked over to the halfling. “We have the general idea, and you’ll have the information soon. Leave the guy alone. He’s had a tough day today as it is.”

“Okay,” he replied, still studying me closely. “Then the next question is why Hagen visited the other temples, and why was this one saved for last?”

Damn it. Why did I mention them? The halfling was hanging on my every word.

“I can’t tell you that either,” I muttered, starting to regret coming to visit the Witch in the first place. “That’s my business; not yours. It was part of my game process.”

The Gray Witch looked at me thoughtfully before turning back to the halfling. “Radius, stop grilling him. He’s obviously not telling us everything, but he isn’t obligated to. Plus, we players all have our secrets.”

“I hope we can invite Hagen to come for a follow-up conversation if we need to clarify anything?” Radius asked.

The Witch looked at me, and I nodded, sighing deeply. There was nothing fake about my sigh.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry.” The Witch came over and tapped me on the nose. “How much did Miurat take from you?”

“About 20,000 gold, more than ten portal scrolls, and three runes: Eivaz, Jera, and Gebo. Ah, that dog!”

The Gray Witch poked her head out the door.

“Flavius, take Hagen to the treasurer and give him 30,000 gold and fifteen portal scrolls.”

Flavius nodded, and the Witch looked back at me, putting her hand on my shoulder.

“I very much appreciate what you did both for the clan and for me today. Please don’t be offended if I don’t see you out, and forgive Radius for being so thorough. I’d explain the whole thing to you, but I’m way too busy. Time is invaluable. Regardless, I’m certain that we—I and my clan—will repay our debt to you, a debt that grew even bigger today. As far as the runes go…well, we’ll think of something. And please let Miurat know that your deal is still in effect.”

“I’d like to add something about how I told you everything,” I replied. “He’ll find out eventually, so why can’t we use that?”

“Agreed. And now I have to go. Sorry. There isn’t much time, which makes it too valuable to waste.”

She walked back into her office and shut the door. There wasn’t a “hello,” so why should there be a “goodbye”?

On the other hand, I was only too glad to see their backs, since I was tired of all the secrets and running around. I’d gotten Miurat back a bit and earned a little something in the process, and the future would take care of itself. For now, I’ll pick up my earnings and go see the dryad. I needed to finish the quest; the whole thing was getting awfully dicey.

Chapter Eighteen

In which the hero revisits old haunts.

Another thing I liked about the Hounds of Death was that everything got done quickly. It took no time at all for me to get my gold and scrolls, and nobody even stopped to ask what it was for, where the paperwork was, or why I didn’t have a signature with me. They’d been told to shell out, and shell out they did. If my clan—the one I hadn’t visited in forever that had probably forgotten who I was completely (something I was only too happy about)—had been like that, our relationship probably would have been different.

“Do you need anything else from me?” Flavius asked.

“Of course I do!” I replied, frightened for a second. “I need you to show me the way out of here. Otherwise, I’ll be wandering around until the second coming!”

Once out of the Hounds’ citadel, I took a deep breath, pulled out a portal scroll, and left for Holfstrig. I needed to dump my extra cash in the hotel, write Miurat a letter, and try to cover my tracks a little. Why Holfstrig? There weren’t as many people there as there were in other places, and I had fond memories of my simple life in the North. It was nothing like what I’d had to deal with in the South.

The mailbox was right next to the hotel, so I decided to head right over and send Miurat my reply.

Miurat (I won’t add “dear” or anything like that since I don’t like lying),

You didn’t really hold up your end of the deal, though I’m not sure why that was. Maybe you got greedy, or maybe something else happened, but whatever the reason, a few of my things—neither scrolls nor gold—you apparently took such a liking to that you decided to keep them. That notwithstanding, I can confirm that I will be following through with my part of our deal. The service I promised will be provided promptly and at any time, provided that I am online and do not have any other obligations to other players at the time (raids, dungeons). I will also need advance notice of what I am delivering, be it an item or information.

As I noted above, with no respect whatsoever,

Hagen of Tronje

P.S. We didn’t agree not to tell third parties about our meeting, so I told the Gray Witch about the whole thing. Sorry.

It was a rude missive, and I was looking forward to his response. Will he return the runes? Or promise to kill me?

I expected something like that, so I wasn’t surprised in the least.

I’m glad our deal is in place, as it’s an important one for me.

As a good-will gesture, let me give you a piece of advice: don’t be in a hurry to push your way into the Gray Witch’s inner circle. There’s more danger than gain there for you—that much I can say for certain.

As far as your runes, yes, they’re nice and rare. Let’s just say that I borrowed them from you for a bit. We’re friends, so you don’t mind. Right? I’ll be happy to give them back to you as soon as you agree to join us. Hey, I’ll throw in another five and a case to hold them in. Think about it. Think long and hard.

Miurat

So, that was that. I’d definitely have to keep an eye out for him… In the meantime, I decided to forget the whole lot of them and go see the dryad. I had quite a bit on my to-do list for the day; all I needed was more traipsing through jungles in the dark.

I looked around cautiously before opening a portal and jumping through it to my usual sandy shore, the same one where we’d had the fight to free the könig’s daughter. I stood there looking around for another five minutes trying to see if any spies left their footprints in the sand. There was nothing to be seen. That was odd, however, since I was almost sure I was being followed. How else could so many people know exactly where I am and when, all in the interests of different clans? You can’t fool the sand, however, and you can’t cast spells on it. Maybe I’m just paranoid. I wondered if I was just worn out by all the intrigue that had been swirling around. Ultimately, I hadn’t given anything up to anyone, so all the problems I’d been having could, theoretically, have been one long chain of coincidences. Whatever the case, I had a quest to finish. There was a dryad caterpillar that was waiting for me to turn it into a butterfly—or something like that.

***

The palms were the same and so was the spring. Realizing that the local dryad lived somewhere up above me, doing her business and simply throwing her trash down out of the trees, I stood a little farther away and called out to her.

“Hey, Idrissa! Where are you? Come on out so we can talk.”

Palm fronds rustled, and the dryad’s face peered out from one of them. “You?” she asked, looking at me with a wrinkled face. “That fast?”

“What, you think I’m going to spend my whole life wandering around the jungles?” I responded with surprise. “Plus, I feel terrible for you. Your sisters are all gorgeous, and here you are, still climbing around the palms like some kind of wild monkey. It’s time for you to get on their level.”

“Gorgeous,” Idrissa said, spitting. “You haven’t seen anything!”

“Well, come down and grab your toy so you can surprise me with your stunning beauty. Amaze me!”

“Are you joking?” Idrissa’s eyes rounded. “You really got the gong?”

I shrugged. Yes, so what?

Idrissa scampered down from the palm with lightning speed, ran over, and held out her shaking hand.

“Give it to me!”

You completed a quest: Gong of the Goddess.

Reward:

20,000 experience

Firestorm, a unique active ability

Woodsman, a unique passive ability

+10% to mana

Ding!

Dear player,

Because you completed this quest, you have the chance to select one of the following items (They all belong to sets, though their levels and attributes are hidden, and they all match your class.):

Guyard Skaloboy’s Greaves

Lonely Boar Belt

Roland’s Helmet

Rigbert the Conqueror’s Pauldrons

Shadow Stalker Cloak

Romun Rune’s Amulet

That was new. I wasn’t sure why the little creature clutching the brass gong to her sunken chest, which was covered by some torn rags, wasn’t offering me the choice herself. What’s with the “click and grab” interface? Maybe it’s a bug.

The selection wasn’t bad… The only problem was that I didn’t know a thing about any of them. None of them were from my nearly complete Knightly Collection, though…

Dear player,

You’re going to have to make your choice faster. There’s just one minute remaining in the time you have for your decision.

That’s ridiculous. I added one more item to my list of things I wanted to discuss with Zimin. But what to take? Everything fit me, and I could have used any of them. I wasn’t dressed like a beggar, but still… Oh, and I forgot to visit the blacksmith again… Wait, what am I doing thinking about that? I want…I want… I wish I knew what I wanted… Oh, come on, I hate picking between good choices. Whatever!

Romun Rune’s Amulet

Belonged to a great hero who achieved fame in the First War of Hatred, doing the impossible with his friends and saving an entire kingdom at the cost of his life.

From the Price of Fearlessness set

Set includes:

Romun Rune’s Helmet

Romun Rune’s Pauldrons

Romun Rune’s Gauntlets

Romun Rune’s Cuirass

Romun Rune’s Amulet

Romun Rune’s Cuisses

Green Bog Shield

Ransol Signet Ring

Gray Knight’s Ritterschwert

+33 to stamina

+28 to agility

+18 to intellect

+7% protection from mental attacks

+7% chance of instantly restoring your mana during battle

+8% to weapon durability

+9% to the time you can spend under water

Once every day, you can summon a squad of up to five ghost warriors from the Shadow Brigade once commanded by Romun. The number of warriors summoned is random, and the damage done by each of their strikes is equal to the average damage you do. They fight for two minutes.

Durability: 2000/2000

Minimum level for use: 50

Class limitation: warrior

Cannot be stolen, lost, broken, or gifted.

Does not disappear from the holder’s inventory after dying when coupled with at least four other items from the set.

The following bonuses are unlocked by using the complete set:

Three random active class abilities

+4 to one random attribute

+35% to your chances of getting rare items from dead enemies

+25% to how fast you develop your active abilities

But that wasn’t all.

You unlocked Level 58!

Points ready to be distributed: 5

That gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, and I had to admit that the amulet wasn’t bad at all. It was fantastic, in fact, I thought as I added three points to strength and two to agility. I’ll just—

You unlocked Heroes of the Gray Days…, Level 2

To get it, receive 15 more items belonging to heroes of days gone by.

Reward:

Lucky, a passive ability, Level 2: +1.5% chance of receiving elite or legendary items

+2% chance of getting hidden or epic quests

Title: Heir to Glory

To see similar messages, go to the Action section of the attribute window.

The dryad soared into the sky with a long cry, sending sparks flying in all directions.

Would you like to see the abilities you received?

Needless to say, I did. There was no point watching the fluttering going on in front of me—I’d already seen it three times.

Firestorm, a unique active ability

When wielding your weapon, you turn into a ball of fire with the ability to do twice as much damage for 50 seconds. There is a 50% chance your flaming blade will light your opponent’s clothes or leather coverings on fire, doing 140 to 250 additional damage over 30 seconds.

If your opponent is a skeleton or zombie, you have a 50% chance of doing an additional 100 damage with each blow.

Activation cost: 420 mana

Recharge time: 4 minutes

It was quite the ability, something like Strength of Fire, but much stronger—and with a 50% chance of doing ongoing damage. I sat down to think about what I should get rid of, though I realized the choice was simple.

Upend was removed from your active abilities.

You can learn it again for free from any of the warrior instructors as needed.

That just left the passive ability.

You learned a new passive ability: Woodsman, Level 1

Your chances of finding the path to a populated area or quest goal in unfamiliar forests are boosted to 29%.

Another decent option. Sure, I didn’t spend much time in forests, though… No, if I didn’t have Lane to take me around everywhere, I probably would have just hired someone else. But it was still a good ability to have in my pocket.

I stood there pondering my abilities, their advantages, and their drawbacks, all the while completely forgetting about the dryad. She had already finished glistening in the sky, and she’d landed and was looking at me with confusion and some disapproval on her face. (Why aren’t you amazed? What happened?)

I was so beyond the whole thing that the graceful, dark-skinned woman dressed in some kind of obviously rare skin and leaning on a spear with a skillfully carved shaft did nothing for me as a man.

“What, stunned speechless?” she asked.

“Yes, something like that,” I replied, deciding not to hurt her. “Who did that use to be?”

I pointed at the skin, and Idrissa frowned.

“A six-legged seven-nothing,” she replied. “Why aren’t you looking at me with desire in your eyes?”

Great, she’s crazy.

“I’m too afraid,” I replied after a slight hesitation. “You’re a warrior woman, harsh, resolute. And you could run that spear right through me.”

That seemed to do the trick, as Idrissa smiled, showing off her blindingly white teeth. I’d better get out of here before she gives me the seventh quest. I needed a break, maybe a couple weeks, and then I would have been only too happy to come back for it. The paper was expanding, I was tired, and there wasn’t enough time for everything I needed to do even without yet another headache…

“All righty, beautiful!” I said with a clap. “I guess I’ll be going. You four are all free, and you’re all young and beautiful again, with everything you were looking for. I’ll be seeing you! Don’t worry, I’ll stop back soon.”

Without taking the smile off my face, I tried to turn and walk briskly away from the palm grove.

“Hold it right there!” barked Idrissa. “Where are you going?”

Too slow…damn it! I should have opened a portal and jumped in.

“You’re a hero!” she said in an attempt to shame me. “You’re supposed to help everyone, and here…ah…”

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “What else do you little orphan girls need from me?”

“I need a chalice.” Idrissa raised the index finger on her right hand.

“What chalice?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, stomping in frustration at my stupidity. “The Chalice of Memory!”

You unlocked Chalice of Memory.

This is the seventh in the Children of the Goddess series of hidden quests.

Task: Find and deliver a unique item called the Chalice of Memory to where Idrissa the South wants it.

Reward:

30,000 experience

Dryad Friendship Ring

Your choice of unique animal helpers (pets)

The ability to use transportation (one-time use unlocking your choice of transportation type)

Accept?

To say that I was dissatisfied as I accepted the quest is putting it far too lightly. Great, so I’ll be turning my brain inside out yet again. Where is that chalice? I checked my map, looking in the South, then the North, and then in the other two areas. There was no right spot for the quest. Putting my map away, I looked at the dryad thoughtfully. She smiled, not sure why I had such a serious expression on my face.

“A bug, probably,” I told her, pulling up my map once again.

A couple minutes later I closed it, doing my best to maintain a civil, restrained tone as I spoke to the dryad.

“I realize that all your quests—yours as well as the ones your sisters gave me—are on the edge of the insane. I’m even kind of used to that. But at least I’ve always known where to go. Here you are sending me off without a single clue, and that’s going too far.”

“But I don’t know where the chalice is right now!” The dryad slammed the butt of her spear against the ground. “I just don’t. I’ve been sitting here the whole time, and I couldn’t keep track of it! My sisters couldn’t either.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” I yelled, giving up on my attempt at restraint. “Just go out there and start asking everyone I come across? Eeyore, Kanga, Tigger, the whole lot of them? Maybe one of them knows where the chalice is!”

“Who are Eeyore and Tigger? The only tigers I know can’t talk, and they definitely won’t know anything about the chalice,” the dryad replied, batting her eyelashes.

I repressed the urge to grab my head with both hands and howl into the sky.

“You don’t have any vila relatives, do you?” I asked her quietly. “There’s a lot you have in common with them.”

Idrissa didn’t reply, instead thinking to herself as she tapped the ground with her spear. Suddenly, her face brightened.

“I know what to do!” she said, bursting into laughter. “There’s a place in the West called the Academy of Wisdom. They might know where the chalice is.”

Additional information for Chalice of Memory

You should start your search for the ancient artifact by visiting the Academy of Wisdom, which is in Aegan, the capital of the Western Reaches.

Pulling up my map, I was happy to see that a red spot was blinking in Aegan. I exhaled noisily.

“Well?” the dryad asked, hopping nervously.

“Well, nothing,” I muttered. “I’m going, that’s what. As soon as I have your chalice, I’ll bring it back here.”

“No, not here,” the dryad replied. “Take it to Eiliana the West’s forest. That’s where you started your journey to free us—I can feel it. I think you’ll find it to be much bigger than you remember, but you’ll still find us. And that’s where everything will end, right where it began.”

“How will you know when everything’s done and the chalice is there?” I asked her.

“Believe me, I’ll know.” Idrissa narrowed her eyes and smiled meaningfully.

“Whatever you say.” I waved and hung the amulet I got around my neck. It really was fantastic, and I wasn’t about to leave it to rust in my trunk no matter how much I was afraid of losing it. Plus, it let me summon warriors when I needed them, and that was a big deal.

Clarification for Chalice of Memory

Once you have the artifact, take it to Eiliana the West’s forest in the Western Reaches.

“Okay, see you.” I winked to Idrissa and opened a portal aimed at Aegan.

***

The big city was just as noisy and bustling, with players and NPCs running up and down the streets, traders yelling, people leaning out of windows to dump water on the street, and others throwing trash out. In short, it was the Middle Ages, only sans the stink and plague.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, addressing one of the city guards my practiced eye had noticed. “Can you tell me how to get to the Academy of Wisdom?”

“Go left, then right, then left, then right again,” he replied impassively. “You’ll see it.”

“Left where? Right where?” I shrugged.

“Look up,” a squeaky and kind of dollish girl’s voice said.

I followed her instructions.

“See the spire with the sphere at the top?”

“Yes,” I replied. It jutted high into the sky and was crowned by such a large ball that I wondered how it didn’t break under the weight.

“That’s the Academy,” said the voice. “Go there, and you’ll get what you’re looking for. Or not, of course.”

“Thanks,” I said, turning my head to look for who was talking.

“Down here,” the voice said with a giggle.

I looked down to see a small, very low-level player fairy. Her name was Tren-Bren.

“That’s a funny name,” I said, shaking my head. “Took you a long time to come up with it?”

“Not in the least.” The fairy sighed unhappily and batted her eyelashes before grimacing. “Campari thought it up for me. I drank almost a whole bottle right before I registered, and this is what I somehow came up with.”

“Why didn’t you just register again the next day? You couldn’t have started then anyway since they don’t let you log in when you’re drunk.”

“I won three months in a lottery, and they’re tied to this name. So I’m going to be Tren-Bren for another month and a half. And who knows? Maybe longer…”

“I hear you.” I really felt bad for the fairy, a little and, from what I could tell, very nice girl.

You added Tren-Bren as a friend.

Please wait for a response.

The fairy smiled.

Tren-Bren accepted your friend request.

“If you need anything, send me a message,” I said. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Good luck!” Tren-Bren waved her magic wand, giving off a spray of sparks, and flew on.

How does she possibly get by? Absolutely anyone could take her out without a second thought. She could fly away, of course, but that isn’t always an option…

The Academy of Wisdom was impressive from up close. It was clearly a temple of knowledge, above-board and looking nothing like the nearby bars, for instance. The building was large, round, and even magically lit-up, something that was especially visible in the gathering darkness. It was fall, and evening came on quickly.

“Where are you going?” the guard at the entrance asked. “Who do you want to see?”

“I’m not sure who,” I answered, being perfectly frank with him. “Anybody, really. I need a consultation.”

“Consultations are in the left wing,” the guard replied amiably. “Look for the paid consultations on issues of intellect and magic sign.”

Well, look at you go, handing out wisdom in exchange for cash. Come whenever you want, buy a few smart ideas. It wasn’t a bad business plan.

Speaking of smart ideas, I needed to visit a recruitment center to buy my way out of my Free Companies contract. I certainly didn’t want to forget or have anything else happen, as I was perfectly fine without killers coming after me. Showing up at the base whenever I logged in and porting elsewhere was expensive, as well—scrolls didn’t grow on trees.

Huh, that’s funny. He was right about the sign: For Issues of Intellect and Magic.

There were about ten young people sitting in the large, well-lit room, and all of them were wearing dark-blue robes and odd-looking five-pointed hats topped with pompoms.

“Greetings, good person,” one of them said as I closed the door behind me. “Are you looking for advice, magic, help finding someone, legal assistance, answers to questions about succession, information about determining fatherhood, how to get rid of a hex, or ways to cause damage? Which area of wisdom interests you?”

I scratched the back of my head and tried to think which category my question fit under.

“You know what, let’s do this,” I said finally. “I’ll tell you what I need, and you can tell me who I should talk to. I’m trying to find out what happened to an artifact that was lost back in ancient times and probably belonged to the Departed Gods.”

The young man, who nodded throughout my entire spiel, jerked when he heard me mention the Departed Gods. The sages sitting nearby had the same reaction.

“You will get no information here,” he said stiffly.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

He looked at me angrily. “We can’t help you.”

“What happened? I’ll pay for the information!” I replied, my voice slightly raised.

“Should I call the guards?” the sage yelled back furiously. “Do we have to force you out in disgrace?”

“Don’t yell, smarty pants,” I snarled back. “I’m leaving.”

I got up and walked out of the Academy without a backward glance.

This is bad, I thought. I don’t know what to do next, not to mention where to go. Although…I’ll figure it out tomorrow. I headed toward the hotel, resolved to go home and get some sleep.

I was almost to the hotel I’d noticed along the road when a familiar emblem caught my eye. Stopping next to it, I smiled.

“Why not?” I said softly to myself. “That could work.”

Chapter Nineteen

In which the hero practices a bit of diplomacy and does a good deed or two.

I gave the familiar emblem one last glance, grunted, and walked into the hotel. Thank heavens, at least some kind of picture was starting to form in my head. The grim-looking and greedy gentlemen at the Academy of Wisdom certainly knew a thing or two, though just a mention of the Departed Gods was enough to spook even them. I wasn’t worried, however. When there’s someone out there who knows something and loves money, it’s just a matter of time until I share that knowledge.

I just needed to find the right loophole or back door. And for that I needed someone to recommend me—and I knew where to look for that someone. For a second I reflected on how nice it was that even in a fantasy game and a virtual world, you could use the same approaches to problem-solving you learned in the real world. At least, that’s what I was hoping for.

***

It was dark outside the windows when I climbed out of the capsule, and I could tell that it was well into the evening hours. What surprised me was that it was dark inside the apartment as well. Water wasn’t running in the kitchen, pots and pans weren’t rattling, and the TV, which Vika always turned on as soon as she put on her slippers, was off. In a word, it was oddly quiet. I wasn’t even sure what surprised me more: the fact that Vika wasn’t there or the fact that I was both confused and disappointed.

“Oh, boy, Kif,” I said out loud to myself. “Sounds like you’re gearing up for a trip down a road you’ve already traveled.”

My phone dinged, letting me know that I had a message, or maybe messages.

Kif, don’t worry, I’m at an important meeting. If you’re hungry, everything’s in the fridge—don’t forget to warm it up. I’ll call if I’m going to be too late.

That was unusual. Well, Kif, why do you feel like somebody just stepped on your spleen? You don’t care, right? Then why are your teeth clenched like that? What? You’re afraid to admit that things aren’t as simple as you wanted? Everything got to you?

I realized that the conversation I was having with myself was starting to border on schizophrenia, so I went out to have a smoke. The cigarette, as they always do, put me in a better mood, so I came to an agreement with myself. She could have been up to anything, and when she got home, she’d tell me herself what she could have been doing out so late.

Really, men like to laugh at women for how they’re always avoiding their problems, even as men do the exact same thing—just with an inaccessible, proud look on their faces. Come on, men are way worse than women. We only go to the doctor when that tooth is already falling apart, our appendix has already burst, or our fingernail is so overgrown that they have to amputate the whole finger. We go to parent-teacher meetings all primed and ready to give that one teacher a piece of our mind about how she’s always asking for money. But then, we obediently hand over the cash for the new curtains, knowing full well that the amount of money we’ve already given could pay for enough curtains to make a nice scarf for the earth. But no, we rationalize that it’s just curtains…

So, there you are lying in bed with a girl who’s looking at you with wide eyes already darkened by the doom that comes with accepting the title of “lover.” You think to yourself, Okay, okay, tomorrow, we’re getting together, so I’ll pick up some flowers, buy a ring, and ask her to marry me! For sure this time.

You leave the next morning or even that night, and you’re completely solid in your decision. But that confidence starts to wane the closer you get to your home… Back at your own door, you’re sticking the key into the lock and deep down inside, there’s a part of you that knows you won’t be proposing the next day—or the day after that, for that matter. And why? Everything’s fine, isn’t it?

The whole thing has nothing to do with whether you love her or not. What does love have to do with anything? Men all know that there’s no such thing on God’s green earth here in the twenty-first century, and maybe there never was. There are such things as comfort, habit, intimacy, living together, desire, and, at the top of the list, a business relationship. Words, sure, they’re still there, since women need them to convince themselves that they need the man next to them, and men need them to get a woman in the first place.

But women are strange, and they get caught up in words and, in particular, that one that’s rotten to the core: love. They know full well that there’s no such thing as love; it’s just more convenient to think that there is since it makes it easier to explain to themselves why they still live with an alcoholic loser. It means they don’t have to admit they’re afraid of being alone. That would be intolerable, after all. Better a terrible, no-good man who’s there than nobody at all. And don’t believe the authors of all those glossy novels singing the praises of single, independent women; they’re lying shamelessly. Independence is one thing, but being alone and yet still happy? Nonsense. Even the most businesslike of them—the ones who flaunt the success they enjoy, the ones who claim to prefer a new boy toy every night to the same devil with dirty socks every day—are lying.

No, my dear men, it’s fear. But when it comes down to it, women can stuff that fear deep down inside them and keep moving forward at the risk of everything they have and are. What about us? We just learn to live with our fear even as it creeps into our relationships with the opposite sex; we bargain with it. But our fear is much stronger and more shameful. What did you think? There you are living alone, with everything familiar and the way you like it, everything bought and paid for. It’s quiet, the lights are timed, life is peaceful, and everything’s where it belongs. You can smoke wherever you want, the pelmeni will stay where they are in the pot until some kind of biological life form decides to start eating away at them… And then she walks in the door, the new owner, and everything changes—you have mortgages, home repairs, diapers, “go to the store,” “go smoke on the balcony” (if you’re lucky), “go smoke in the stairwell” (if you’re not), and so on, and so forth.

And even though you know she’s perfect, the woman who was made for you, you still hold out, hold out, hold out… Until one morning she turns over in bed and has something to say. “You should know that I’m getting married in two weeks [or just one, maybe a month], so this was the last night we’re going to spend together.”

And that’s it. Go chew your fingernails, you coward, you brought this on yourself.

There’s no point even talking about how husbands spend time with their lovers. They’re always just about ready to leave the wives they’re so tired of, and they keep stringing the girl along with promises that it’ll happen any day now. Or as soon as their son graduates from school… I’ve never heard of a man leaving his wife for a younger woman, not to mention seeing it with my own eyes. The women wait, and we lie…like cowards.

But what else can you do? Sure, the wifey isn’t the sweet, adorable girl she once was, her personality has gone down the tubes, sometimes you can’t even bear to look at her, she weighs twice as much as she used to, and she yells at you constantly. And here you’ve got a girl with a nice, firm chest, she looks you in the eye, and when you’re with her, you feel like a man again, though… Do you really want to go down that whole road again? The mortgages, the toxicosis, the milk on your hand, the ninth tooth coming in with a temperature over a hundred? No, no—never again.

So when they look at us indecisive and restless men, the women just make the decision we can’t, and we’re left in the lurch. But they make it, be it the right one or the wrong one—still, they make it. We don’t.

So what about those harmless lamentations about women and how they can compromise with themselves about anything? Ridiculous. When it comes to serious, real crisis situations, today’s women get their heading much faster and more ruthlessly. And that is something that should give us men something to think about…

As I walked back in from the balcony, I scratched the back of my head and was about to bite into some cutlets (needless to say, I didn’t bother to warm them up—they were fine as they were, especially when I threw in a savory pickle and slathered some mayonnaise on top) when I remembered the crafty plan I’d devised after spending too much time whining about my lost runes.

“Maxim, good evening, are you busy?”

“Oh, hey, Kif. No, this is perfect, actually. I just had a pile of papers dumped in front of me to sign, and you’re a great reason to be lazy.”

I laughed politely.

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“A couple strange things happened recently.”

I summarized the odd way I had to pick an item myself, and then tattled on Miurat and his despicable friend Ronin.

“I mean, the fact that they killed me doesn’t really matter,” I said, adding a tear to my voice. “That happens in the game. But the fact that he talked about how they could have the players all under their thumb, well, I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound good. What does it mean that they have a lot of support outside the game? It sounds like they’re about to chop up your game, which means that somebody is starting to institute their own rules. And you can imagine the impact that will have.”

Zimin was silent long enough for me to wonder if I’d stepped out of line and should have kept my big mouth shut.

“Kif,” I heard finally. “Do you have a dacha?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a dacha, and it’s certainly no country house,” I replied honestly. “It’s barely even a house, really. Why? You think I need to hide out there for a little while? It’s a bit cold, Maxim. The season’s over; I’d freeze.”

“No, I’m just thinking about what I can give you as a reward for being so observant and staying on top of things. I’ll think about it a little more, but you should know that the company owns about forty dachas. Just call, and one of them is yours.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, scratching my head. I didn’t really need my own dacha, and that would mean just adding another headache to the pile. “I need to talk to my mom, and Vika, too, probably.”

“Vika has enough on her mind right now,” grunted Zimin. “I just saw her an hour and a half ago.”

“You did?” It was my turn to be surprised. “What did you need from her?”

“Me? Nothing; she was going to see Vezhleva, and I don’t know what Marina needed.” He paused before adding, “though I can guess.”

“Marina has quite the imagination, and I don’t think anybody knows what’s going on in that mind of hers,” I said with a grimace. “Though she’ll have her hands full with Vika—she’s a tough nut to crack, that one.”

“With enough money, you can crack pretty much any nut, that much I know for sure,” Zimin noted philosophically. “But Marina is incredibly stubborn, so I’ll need to have a chat with her to make sure she doesn’t try to pull something. That’s all the more important if you’re right about Vika having a bite to her as well. You know, I told you what to do, and you didn’t listen. If you’d have just slept with her, she’d have added your scalp to her collection and been done with it. She certainly doesn’t need you in your own right. But as a trophy, to put your head on her wall? Definitely. You might come in handy for her, too, for example, as a source.”

What struck me was that he’d said all of that easily, as if in passing. In the meantime, I had chills running up and down my spine.

“If I’d been sure that it would have turned out like that, I would have slept with her,” I muttered. “But I don’t think that’s how it would have ended. She’d have definitely wanted me as a source—and I don’t need that.”

“You all need something better to do,” Zimin said with a sigh. “Okay, I’m off. I need to think about what you said. Our admins need a rap on the knuckles, too, since they can’t seem to catch anything, and our analysts need a dressing-down. All of them!”

And he hung up. Regardless of the sour note the conversation ended on, I couldn’t help but smile. I wouldn’t be getting my runes back, but it looked like I’d buried that pig Miurat. I’d even gotten a little something out of it for myself.

Vika got home at exactly the wrong moment; I was happily stuffing my face with cold meat cutlets, my stomach growling.

“Why am I not surprised?” she noted quietly as she took off her boots. “Is it really that hard to warm them up? They taste so much better that way.”

“They taste fine cold,” I said with a shrug. “Really, they’re delicious.”

She exhaled, walked into the kitchen, sat down, and looked at me, her chin resting on her hands.

“That bad?” I asked between bites, looking at her worriedly.

“Depends on what you compare it to.” She smiled crookedly. “So, I stopped by Raidion…”

“Such a big building, and a nice-looking one, too,” I replied positively, putting the last cutlet on my plate. “So many elevators.”

“Yup,” Vika said, nodding. “Nice people, and they come with generous offers.”

“Really?” I clapped my hands against my cheeks. “What did they promise you?”

“A cushy spot in the organization, good pay, business trips, and not just to Yamalo-Nenets Autonomous Okrug or Kamchatka; they’ll send me to warm countries, too.”

“What about a barrel of jelly and a basket of cookies?” I asked, still worried.

She looked at me inquisitively. I sighed and waved at her, as if telling her to forget it. How should she know the books I read when I was little? I barely read them, myself. And that was only because my dad had some Gaidar[8] in his library.

“So what do they want in exchange for all the goodies?” I asked, giving her the question of the hour.

“Nothing much,” Vika replied carelessly, blowing away a lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes. “They want me to leave the paper, start working in management over there, and move into an apartment Raidion would offer as an incentive for being a promising employee. Oh, and I’m supposed to break up with you.”

“Just like that.” I picked up the last cutlet and looked it over, trying to decide if it would fit or not. In the end, I jammed it into my mouth.

“Yup, just like that.”

I chewed, my eyes bulging, while Vika looked at me. The smile on her face could have been pulled straight from the Mona Lisa. Finally, I got tired of it and gestured for her to keep going. What happened then?

“Why do you take such big bites?” Vika shook her head. “You’ll choke one of these days. What, you think somebody’s going to steal them? Or you think I won’t make them anymore?”

With that, she smiled sadly.

There it was. What did I say? Where a guy would have stalled as long as he could by weighing the options and getting caught up in vague logical calculations or, in other words, all the what-ifs, the little woman across from me quietly gave up on the dream she’d had for so long. And she did it for the sake of a cynic looking askance at life with whom she wasn’t even sure anything would turn out.

“Well, they offered us a dacha,” I said, having conquered the last of the cutlet. “The high command decided to reward us for the good work we’re doing. Do we want one?”

I hoped that little spoonful of sugar would help the medicine go down. There was no way I needed a dacha, seeing as how I couldn’t care less about being a landowner, but I figured it might give her something to do.

“A dacha?” Vika’s brows creased. “Is it far from Moscow?”

“I have no idea,” I replied. “These days, though, the farther away you are, the better. It’ll stay a dacha longer that way. Plus, there are so many mushroom-pickers near the city that you can’t find anything for yourself.”

“And are they giving it to us permanently or just for a little while?” Vika’s practicality astonished me. She’d switched over to the new topic immediately, and her eyes reflected canopied swings, a pool, paths, and even a fire. I thought I could see myself in them holding a shovel.

“Probably for good,” I replied uncertainly. “I can check.”

Vika got up and stretched. “Call tomorrow, see what they say, and ask where it is—just write down what they say. Write it down. Otherwise, you’ll forget. I know you! If they’re serious, we’ll go see it on Saturday. We should strike while the iron’s hot.”

She walked over and ruffled my hair. I held her hand and kissed her.

“Am I a fool for turning them down?” she asked. “I’m sure my friends would say I am, though I don’t think it’s true.”

“Either way, I’m not sure much good will come of joining forces with me, to be honest,” I replied. “Although, on the other hand—”

“Stop right there,” Vika said, stretching again. “I don’t know about you, you cynical cutlet-hound, but I’m jumping in the shower and heading to bed. And I hope I won’t be alone there.”

I grinned, letting her know that she wouldn’t be.

***

I waited until half past nine to call Zimin. Vezhleva was a threat, of course, but she wasn’t the biggest kid on the playground.

“Kif, aren’t you the early bird?” Zimin’s voice was bright and chipper. “And your timing is perfect—just like always.”

“Morning,” I replied, doing my best to add as much cheer as I could to my voice. “I have something I need to discuss.”

“Me, too,” Zimin said. “You start.”

I gave Zimin the short version of what had happened with Vika. “Marina is ambitious and stubborn. What do you think she might do?”

“Don’t go making mountains out of molehills.” Zimin coughed. “What? You think she’s the mafia or something? And tell your girlfriend to calm down, as well. If she wants a career, she’ll have her career. I’ll make sure that happens. Or, if she’d rather, we can just give her something easy and well-paid so she can have kids and do her thing.”

I coughed as well.

“For you, though,” Zimin said after a pause. “You’ll have four new employees showing up on Monday.”

“Shouldn’t there just have been three?” I asked.

“There should have been three, but there are going to be four,” Zimin replied, his voice slightly raised. “One of them is probably… Well, you get my drift?”

“Certainly.” He didn’t need to explain anything. “Which one?”

“That I don’t know,” he clucked his tongue. “I have a guess, but I’m not sure. And is it worth getting Azov involved? He’s more of a blunt instrument.”

“I’ll figure it out myself,” I said, realizing what he was looking for. “It’ll be fine.”

“Excellent. Is that it?”

“One last thing, you mentioned a dacha last night.”

“You know, I think I was wrong about your girl,” Zimin said. “She’s doing a good job with you, and people like that don’t break, no matter what life throws at them. I feel better knowing you’re in good hands. About the dachas, I’ll email you all the details, and you can pick which one you like best. Next week it’ll be yours. Sound good?”

“Better than good.” I really was happy to hear the news.

I’d gotten some cover for my girlfriend, and gotten something really nice for us in the process. Zimin was also on the alert after my call. That was important, too.

“Oh, Kif,” Zimin said, suddenly enunciating every word, “keep an eye on what’s happening in the game. Make sure you don’t get into trouble with either the Double Shields or the Hounds of Death, though I don’t want you to cozy up to them too much either—at least, that goes for the Shields. Something in between peace and war; I mean, keep the peace if you can, but don’t let it get to war under any circumstances. Got it? And see if you can find out what they’re arguing about.”

“Okay. And I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything.”

“Smart guy,” Zimin said before hanging up.

“Forget them. I think I’m going to go do love, not war—much more in it for me,” I said to no one in particular. To be honest, the intrigues and wars constantly swirling around them all were getting to me.

I went for a smoke, shivered from the cold autumn wind, took a maple leaf to the face, and jumped into the capsule.

***

Aegan was abuzz as always, though the only traffic the hotel got was the distant murmur of the market, the whistle of firecrackers, and the lazy calls of the city guard.

I walked quickly toward the miniature castle, a remarkable piece of architecture that I’d stopped next to the day before. Above it hung an emblem I knew very well: a tear poised in the middle of a circle. Where else did I have to go? They could at least give me some advice there, and they always had good connections.

There was a very young knight (much younger even than Gunther) standing by the entrance, and he had a weighty expression on his ruddy-cheeked face. I came to a stop in front of him.

“Good afternoon, my good knight,” I said to him in greeting.

“And to you a good day, my good man,” he replied amiably.

“Are there any of the order’s officers here right now?” I asked, all business, realizing that I’d get nowhere if the knight in front of me was representative of who they had there.

“Why do you ask?” His face turned serious.

“Oh, I just want to chat about a few things. I thought maybe someone I know would be here.”

“How would you know people in our order?” the knight asked, his smile a bit sarcastic.

“Don’t judge people by how they look, young man,” I replied. “My name is Hagen of Tronje, and I—”

“Oh, Sweet Goddess,” the knight said, blushing furiously. “You’re Hagen of Tronje, friend of the order!”

“I won’t argue with the obvious,” I responded with a nod. “That’s me.”

“You were the one who introduced Junior Master von Richter to the lady of his heart!”

“Mmm?” I was a bit taken aback.

I didn’t really care that Gunther had been promoted to junior master, though I was, of course, happy for my friend. What surprised me was that my great achievement wasn’t killing Fomor or the witch, or even freeing the North; it was that I’d introduced Gunther to crazy Kro. What’s wrong with that picture?

“Well, yes,” I said once I’d recovered, “I did.”

The knight fervently and haltingly told me a story, from which I gathered that there’d been a large autumn ball, with Kro there as the lady of my friend’s heart. She’d caused a stir that resulted in no less than seven duels, three knights heading out on multi-year missions for some kind of incredible artifacts, and the order minstrels making money hand over foot. Kro had apparently been as happy as a clam, though Gunther and the order leadership were furious that discipline had broken down thanks to the nonsensical, coquettish archer. In short, I had no idea who would be there to meet me…

“But that’s not all you’re famous for,” the young man said, enraptured. “You and Master von Richter killed witches, saved the North, and did all kinds of other great deeds!”

Thank God, at least something made it into my file.

“We had some fun,” I replied, striking the pose of a veteran who’d been around the block. “You know…”

“Laird Hagen,” the knight said, suddenly coming to attention. “I, Herbert von Ostin, am happy to welcome you to the mission of the Tearful Goddess Order in the great and free city of Aegan.”

I realized I needed to say something in reply.

“I…um…am happy to accept your invitation and enter the building. Hey, warrior, who’s in charge here?”

“Grandmaster Adalard von Ditmar,” Herbert responded quickly. “I’m sure he will be delighted to receive you, except that he’s currently somewhat busy. We’re in the middle of an inspection from the chapter…”

“I’d like to believe that he’d be delighted,” I said dubiously. “He won’t scare me, will he? I mean, the order leadership weren’t thrilled with my friend Kro.”

“What are you talking about?” It looked like von Ostin even took offense. “Everyone knows that you’re a friend of von Richter himself, and of the entire order, no less. A scroll from the great master was even sent around to everywhere we have a presence, making sure we knew we’re supposed to do everything we can to assist you should the need arise.”

Well, that’s certainly nice—getting a paper from the great master about me. My estimation of myself and what the locals thought of me was rising. Look at me go.

“Wow,” was all I said as I shook my head happily. Everything I’d gone through was starting to bear fruit.

“Laird Hagen.” The ruddy knight tugged on my sleeve. “Would you mind too terribly if I...”

“Come on, out with it,” I said, doing my best Grokkh impression. “Let’s hear it—short, clear, concise.”

“Do you have any other friends who could be the woman of my heart?” von Ostin asked, his question rushing out of him.

Ha! What am I, the Lonely Knight matchmaker? It wasn’t a terrible idea for a business—finding beautiful women for knights was cleaner work than I was used to. I could have even gone the other way as well, knights in shining armor riding mostly white horses for unlucky ladies. It was a bonanza. I decided to at least give it one quick try to see how it turned out.

Pulling up my friend list, I scrolled through and found Tren-Bren, who was online.

Hello, my lovely fairy friend. Are you in Aegan?

The answer was instantaneous.

Hey. Yes, I’m here. Where else would I be? I went into the forest three times. Twice I was killed by PKers, the other by a bear, the bastard. Driving me crazy…

I had to feel sorry for her.

Come over to the Tearful Goddess Order mission. Do you know where it is?

Tren-Bren told me how she knew the city like the back of her hand, seeing as how it was the only place she could fly around in. She got killed everywhere else she went. At least half her letter was swearing, which told me she was either used to working with her hands or a linguist.

“Okay, warrior,” I said, turning back to von Ostin and meeting his anxious gaze, “a lady is going to be dropping by. If you make a good impression on her, you’ll be fine.”

Tren-Bren swooped down from somewhere overhead and lighted on the porch.

“Hi,” she squeaked. “What’s up?”

“You won’t believe it,” I said, smiling. “I found a prince for you!”

“What prince?” The fairy circled a finger around her temple. “Where?”

I nodded at the blushing von Ostin. “Right here. The very one for you.”

“I’m actually a margrave.” Von Ostin seemed to be every bit as faithful to the truth as my friend von Richter. “Though we do have a small fief and castle…”

The fairy stared at me, her eyes betraying surprise and pity for someone as clearly touched in the head as I was.

“What?” I asked, tapping my foot. “What else do you need? He’s a good-looking guy, he’s ruddy as an apple, his muscles are rock-hard, and he’s dressed head to toe in iron. He has a horse, maybe even a white one, and with him, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Take him with you into the forest so you can do some leveling-up. He’ll leave all the experience and loot for you. What’s the problem? All the other girls in the game will be jealous of you.”

Something in Tren-Bren’s eyes changed, and her gaze shifted from me to the knight.

“Laird, laird,” hissed von Ostin, who had just glanced inside. “Grandmaster Adalard and Brother Yur are coming down the stairs. Go say hi. I’m sure the grandmaster will be glad to see you.”

Brother Yur, Brother Yur, I thought to myself as I took hold of the door knob. Why does that name sound familiar?

Chapter Twenty

In which the hero traverses the halls of power.

Von Ostin practically shoved me into the building, less, I thought, out of a desire to do me a service and more looking to get some alone time with Tren-Bren. She was pragmatic to a degree that was uncharacteristic for fairies, had already figured out which way the wind was blowing, and was surveying the young knight’s clattering armor with relish.

Everything in the mission spoke to the order’s asceticism, underlining the fact that its focus was war rather than peace. Hanging on the walls, were weapons, banners, and a few items that had me puzzled, to say the least. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why they had a lumberjack’s axe with the letter D burned into the handle.

Two people were walking down the stairs, one of whom was clearly Adalard von Ditmar. His polished armor, enormous sword, and dashing mustache left me no room for doubt. The second, by process of elimination, had to be Brother Yur, there for some sort of inspection—though I still couldn’t place where I’d heard his name before. He was short, his black robe fell all the way to his feet, he sported leather patches over his elbows, and he had a head full of gray hair. That latter point was odd, considering that he didn’t look much older than forty. His half-smile was ironic, and his eyes shone with wisdom and life. The pair was conversing animatedly, though they contrasted strongly with one another. Adalard boomed out the points he was trying to make; Brother Yur replied quietly and with a small stammer.

“I’m telling you, we don’t have any cost overruns. This is the capital, our expenses are sky-high, and we spend a fortune on hospitality,” von Ditmar said.

“I u-understand that it’s the c-capital, but that d-doesn’t change the fact that y-you’re spending more money on w-wine regardless of the order l-leadership’s instructions for purchasing intangible assets,” Brother Yur replied gently, though with steel in his voice. “I d-don’t doubt that the wine w-was purchased using the extra m-money. I won’t ch-challenge that. But my question is, who d-drank it?”

“Guests,” Adalard answered, armor clanging as he threw his arms out wide. “Guests of the order. They stop by all the time. There’s one now, in fact. My good pilgrim, would you like some wine after your journey? Don’t worry, make yourself at home!”

The grandmaster noticed me and made a transparent attempt to hide the budget shortfall by demonstrating to the auditor how forthright he was being. Just then, I remembered where I’d heard that name. Old Gunther had mentioned Brother Yur, telling me that he was the order’s head accountant. It appeared that the order’s high command feared him more than any undead. I decided to throw von Ditmar a lifeline.

“Why not, kind knight? That sounds wonderful,” I told the grandmaster gallantly.

“So, what, my d-dear friend? You offer anyone who drops by a t-taste of the order’s wine cellars?” asked Brother Yur. “It’s s-starting to make sense why your m-mission always has a deficit at the e-end of the year.”

“To be fair,” I noted, “I’m not just anyone. Quite a few knights in your illustrious order know me.”

The pair took a closer look at me, and Adalard suddenly broke out in a roar.

“Laird Hagen, I’ve heard so much about you! My nephew, Gunther von Richter, told me how the two of you killed a witch in our parts. I’m so glad you decided to drop by!”

“It’s n-nice to meet you, Laird,” Brother Yur added with a bow. “I’ve h-heard of you, as well. Eight portal scrolls and t-twenty thousand gold spent saving a girl. Of c-course, I remember you.”

“Gunther was supposed to return both of them,” I replied hastily. I felt bad throwing him under the bus, but there was no way I was getting in trouble with accounting.

“He did, he d-did,” Brother Yur said, nodding. “Though he s-still hasn’t written up the r-report for me. I suppose w-we’ll have to forgive him.”

“So what are you doing in Aegan?” Von Ditmar walked over to me. “Are you on business or here just to get some rest?”

“No rest for the weary,” I replied sadly. “I’m here on business. It’s not going well, however, and I thought my friends in the order might be able to help.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” Adalard assured me quickly.

Brother Yur said nothing, and his silence told me everything I needed to know. He’d be happy to provide any service I needed, though I’d be better off if it didn’t come with a price tag.

“Please join me in my office.” Von Ditmar took me by the arm before bellowing out an order. “Der Leebe, bring us the best wine and three—”

“None for me, I still need to inspect the barracks,” Brother Yur cut in quickly.

“Then two goblets,” von Ditmar finished.

“Brother Yur, I would greatly appreciate it if you kept us company,” I said to the black-robed man. “I could really use your knowledge and experience.”

“It w-would be an honor,” he replied unwillingly.

There’s someone who knows that time is money.

Adalard’s office looked like some kind of armory, what with the extensive array of deadly steel on the walls.

“Impressed?” the grandmaster asked proudly.

“And how!”

“What is that?” Brother Yur asked, his gaze caught by a large flamberge. “Where is the i-inventory label? Is it included in your b-balance?”

“These are my personal trophies won in battle,” the grandmaster said with a reproachful frown. He quickly followed that up with a clarification for good measure. “So, they’re my personal property.”

“Y-yes?” Brother Yur looked at him dubiously. “Okay then.”

“So, what kind of problem could this friend of the order, and my nephew, have?” Adalard stopped in front of me. “And how can we help?”

One thing I liked about NPCs is that you didn’t have to lie to them. You could and were supposed to tell them the truth. Five minutes later, the giant knight and treasurer were filled in on how I’d been rebuffed at the Academy of Wisdom.

“Well, what’s there to say? It makes perfect sense. If you hadn’t mentioned the Departed Gods…” Adalard stroked his mustache and looked over at Brother Yur.

“What’s wrong with the gods?” I asked.

“Everything.” Von Ditmar took a sip of wine from his large goblet. “Back when the gods were still in Fayroll, it was the Academy of Wisdom that was their biggest opponent. The Academy, in fact, took over for them when they left, and it did its best to make sure that happened by directing the demiurges’ ire toward the gods and getting their hands on everything the gods had created.”

“That’s o-one version, and it hasn’t been confirmed,” noted Brother Yur. “The Academy of W-wisdom itself claims that it’s f-false.”

“And they erased all mention of the gods from all the chronicles!” Adalard shot back with a laugh.

“Regardless, y-you definitely won’t learn anything from them.” Brother Yur settled into his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “N-nobody will tell you a thing.”

“True,” von Ditmar said, gesturing toward the treasurer in agreement. “Not a chance.”

“Well, that’s no good,” I replied, discouraged. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“I’m talking p-primarily about the official channels they h-have for obtaining information,” Brother Yur said vaguely as he rocked his leg. “There are a-alternative routes, though they c-cost money.”

“Yes?” I looked at him with interest.

“Put it this w-way.” Brother Yur found an interesting spot on the ceiling and stared at it. “I h-happen to know the Academy’s t-treasurer. We studied together, and h-he might be able to help…”

“How much?” I asked concisely.

“I don’t know r-right now; I’d have to speak with Master V-vitold. We h-haven’t seen each other in forever,” Brother Yur replied, still being evasive. “Oh, and another th-thing, von Ditmar. Your reports say that you had some r-repairs done in this building, including that you h-had the ceilings painted. But this o-one doesn’t look like a painter has touched it for a g-good ten years. Would you care to explain yourself?”

“Brother Yur, what do ceilings have to do with anything?” von Ditmar replied hotly, his face turning scarlet. “Our friend needs help, and that’s what’s most important right now.”

“Yes?” Brother Yur looked him over suspiciously, lips pursed. “That’s f-fine, though I’ll be expecting an explanation f-from you: who did the repairs, what w-was repaired, and how m-much it cost. The laird and I are going to be gone f-for a bit, and you can put together the paperwork while w-we’re gone.”

Von Ditmar, flustered, could only gesture to Brother Yur as if to say that everything would be fine just so long as he left for a little while. Brother Yur got up and ambled toward the stairs.

“Laird, keep him busy for an hour if you can,” Adalard hissed in my ear. “That’ll give me time to think of something.”

“I’ll do my best,” I replied as I headed off after Brother Yur.

No quest for that? Something like Embezzler’s Assistant…

The picture on the porch was idyllic: the happy fairy fluttered around the equally happy, though red-faced knight, the sun was shining, and the sky was a deep blue.

“G-great weather we’re having,” Brother Yur said before calling over to von Ostin. “Hey, warrior!”

Von Ostin turned toward us and came to attention. “C-come with us to the Academy of W-wisdom,” Brother Yur said to him, not even waiting for an answer before stepping down off the porch.

“Hey, what about me?” Tren-Bren yelled indignantly. “This is my knight!”

Brother Yur glanced at the fairy, fluttering in mid-air with her arms akimbo.

“This m-mission really is going to the d-dogs,” he said to me. “Misappropriated funds, alcoholics, winged women… What a-are you screaming about, flying lady? I’m just taking him for a little while; n-not forever. H-he’ll be back, of course. I just don’t like weapons, and plenty of people out there like to pick on financiers. That’s why I need a bodyguard.”

“Yes?” Tren-Bren thought for a second before agreeing. “Then it’s okay with me, so long as it isn’t for long.”

“Thank y-you and your good heart, my lady,” Brother Yuri replied sarcastically. We headed off toward the Academy of Wisdom.

“By the way, Laird,” Brother Yur said to me as we walked, “how much money do you have on you, and how much do you plan on s-spending to get the i-information you’re looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied with a shrug. “I have ten thousand with me, and I can spend it all—getting results is all I care about.”

“No, no, no,” Brother Yuri said. “And here I thought you were a s-serious, intelligent young man. Be careful about mismanaging your m-money like that; you h-have to care! You all make sure your swords shine like the sun, but you t-treat money like some trash to throw away. That d-doesn’t befit a knight! M-money is a weapon, too, and it’s much more dangerous, effective, and d-deadly. Respect m-money, y-young m-man, r-respect it. And r-remember, if you i-ignore your money, i-it will be sure to ignore you.”

I was stunned. He was an easy person to talk to, and, apparently, a very smart guy. Our conversation took us all the way to the Academy of Wisdom, where I was about to walk back into the main entrance. Brother Yur shook his head at me.

“W-we’re not going that way. W-we’re going this way. Wait on the other side, warrior, and don’t let anyone by.”

He quickly jumped through a nearly invisible door hidden by ivy. I followed him and found myself in a small courtyard, in which were a stone bench, a gazebo, and a door leading to the Academy. That has to be a back door. Brother Yur walked over and rapped out a rhythm on it.

The door creaked open, and someone with a quill pen behind his ear stuck out his head. I had to assume he was a clerk or a scribe.

“Young man, p-please tell Vitold that Brother Y-yur from the order is here to see him.”

“Oh, we all know who you are, good sir,” the head answered with deep respect before disappearing back behind the door.

Brother Yur turned to me. “L-laird, you sit here with y-your money ready. I’ll come back out and t-tell you how much it will cost, and I th-think you’ll get your information quickly if you’re w-willing to pay right away.”

The door creaked open again. “Brother Yur? You can come in.”

The treasurer disappeared inside, leaving me alone in the courtyard. I sat down on the bench and thought about how much work the game’s creators must have put into the shadowy side of life. How many players will even get to see it? But it was still completely realistic, and much more realistic than all the knights and witches. On the other side of the door, people were making money, and a quick bribe was going to get me the information I needed—and Brother Yur, presumably, would be getting a cut. It was more a reality show than an MMORPG…

The door opened to release Brother Yur, who came over to me. “I got you the b-best bargain I could, though Vitold i-is good with money and an excellent t-trader. The d-deal I got you was seven th-thousand gold right away or ten in installments. I-I wouldn’t recommend the latter option, what with the interest…”

“Thanks, Brother Yur!” I just about hugged the gray-haired man. “Who should I pay?”

“They’ll t-tell you in there.” Brother Yur beckoned to someone, and the scribe with the quill pen walked over. “D-don’t forget to g-get a receipt; that’s important. And m-make sure it includes the e-exact amount of money y-you p-paid them, and f-for what. Okay, I n-need to head back before Adalard burns a-all the papers he h-has.”

“Brother Yur,” I said, completely unsure of myself. “For you…should I…”

“Don’t b-be silly. Words spoken foolishly end u-up costing you the most,” he replied, clapping me on the shoulder. “And n-nothing’s a good investment that c-costs that much. It was n-nice to meet you.”

The treasurer walked out the ivy-covered door, leaving me to follow the scribe. I was led down nooks and crannies, past rooms where scribes scratched away at parchment, I heard someone yell something about Fladridge’s paperwork for the previous year, and a few people loitered in the hallway telling each other jokes. In other words, it was an office. Finally, I found myself in a room with a thin man wearing a doublet. He had a smart-looking nose and hair parted in the middle.

“My friend and classmate told me that you need information about a certain object and that you’re prepared to pay for that information right now,” he started off, wasting no time on greetings.

“Correct,” I replied.

“Then name the object, pay eight thousand gold, and in ten minutes you’ll know everything we know,” he said with a smile spreading across his face.

“Happily,” I nodded, “though it’s seven thousand, not eight, and please write up a receipt with the amount, the recipient, and the service while you’re getting the information.”

“Spoken like an excellent student of Yur’s,” he said, nodding. “About the service, you won’t get anything about that on the receipt; I’m not yet crazy enough to sign my own death warrant. Everything else sounds good. There’s no need to waste time, so pay and let me know what the item is that interests you.”

I dumped a pile of gold on the table. “The Chalice of Memory, part of the heritage left by the Departed Gods.”

“I should have named a higher price,” he said matter-of-factly, after which he whispered something to his clerk. The latter ran off. They wouldn’t just kill me here, would they?

Twenty minutes later, the clerk was back with a scroll and a whisper for Vitold (he hadn’t introduced himself, though it had to be him). He left with a few extra coins jingling in his pocket.

“Well, young man, you now have what we have.” Vitold unrolled the scroll. “Yes… The Chalice of Memory doesn’t really have any magical properties, it’s made of an unknown metal, it’s worthless in war and for business, and it was handed over to the treasury of the Western Crown, where it carried the inventory number XPE-143322. It is referred to as the ‘Chalice made by the mountain masters during the First War of the Skeletons.’ That’s it.”

“And it’s definitely there?” I asked apprehensively.

“Definitely.” Vitold waved the scroll at me. “The scroll is magical, and it would note the new location, were the item to be moved.”

“Where is the treasury?”

Vitold looked at me as if I were a child. “In King Federik’s palace. Where else would it be?”

I was starting to realize that I was close to a dead end, if not facing one already. “How much will it cost to get the chalice out of the treasury? If anyone knows, it’s you.”

“Alas,” Vitold replied, his arms spread, “there isn’t anyone who can do that. The only person who can get into the treasury is Federik himself.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” I exhaled.

“I’m not sure. One thing I do know, however, is that it’s pointless to visit Federik. He’s a stingy old bastard, he’s stubborn, and, you’ll have to forgive me, not particularly intelligent. If you offer him money, he’ll just take it without giving you anything in return. He probably won’t even talk to you.”

“Why not?” I asked in surprise.

“He’s arrogant and haughty, everyone knows that.” Vitold scratched his nose. “I’m just so surprised that nobody’s cut his throat yet. If you ask me, he’s long past due. I’m no frondeur, though…”

“I’m still going to try,” I replied. “How much will it cost to get into the palace?”

“Let’s see.” Vitold pulled up a pile of parchment. “He has a half-day today, and he’s meeting with ambassadors without serving food—that would cost 2,500 gold. You could also visit him for dinner and dances this evening, though that would be 6,000. Which would you prefer?”

“The half-day hasn’t ended yet?”

Vitold got up to look out a window at a sundial and assured me that there was still an hour remaining, though I’d have to hurry.

I paid to get into the palace and then realized that I had no idea where to go—both to get out of the Academy and to get to the palace.

“And where—” I started to ask but Vitold interrupted me.

“You’re a wholesale buyer and a friend of Yur’s, so…Sverzen!”

The clerk appeared.

“Take this gentleman the short way to the Crown’s palace and find somebody there who can lead him to the reception hall. Everything is already paid.” Vitold smiled at me greedily. “It was nice to meet you, and let me know if you ever need any other information. Here’s your receipt.”

He handed me the paper and forgot all about me, burying himself in his parchments. It hit me that I was looking at real power. The great people of the world think they decide everything, but really it’s the little people making the decisions. The former do a couple big things to earn their fame; the latter do a hundred little things behind the backs of the great people to earn their money. As a result, the people who put together the invitation lists decide who the king will see.

Incidentally, it’s also the little people that know how to get across the city in five minutes, leading you to some trapdoor in a pantry right in the center of the palace.

“You can’t get me into the treasury like that, can you?” I asked him, just to make sure I was covering my bases.

He just grunted as if to say that he’d have gotten in there a long time ago if it were possible. Then he peeked out of the pantry and whistled to someone. Five minutes later, a pretty maid holding a coin she’d been given by the scribe was leading me along, giving me instructions as we went.

“Left, sir. Right, sir. Okay, this is it.”

Compared with König Harald, the local king barely deserved the title. The local monarchy certainly seemed to have come upon hard times. A short creature with an arrogant, bony face was sitting on an enormous throne, and his squeaky voice was busy explaining to some ambassadors from the Borderlands (at least, that was the impression I got from the hefty gentlemen pleasantly reminiscent of Lane) why the Western Reaches simply had to hold sway over them. I could tell the ambassadors were having a hard time keeping their tempers in check.

“We are the ones spreading light and enlightenment through the wild lands of Rattermark,” said Federik the Seventh. “And we will bring them both to you if we must—on the tips of our spears.”

Vitold was right; I’m not going to get anywhere with that guy. Coming here was a waste of money.

“And he calls himself a king?” the Borderlands ambassador in front, and therefore the head of the contingent, said through clenched teeth as we all walked away from the reception hall toward the exit. I had joined them, having decided not to risk dealing with the king.

“I’ve never seen a kingdom in such a hurry to go to war, and especially a war as needless as this one,” the gray-mustachioed warrior walking next to him echoed. He bore the flowery name of Sventonidius. “His kind should be drowned in the latrine and replaced on the throne before they can hurt their own people.”

“But there’s no one left with a claim to the throne,” the one walking in front noted in frustration. “If there were, we could talk with them, but this… Oh, we really don’t need a war right now!”

Sventonidius said something in reply but I had already left the palace and didn’t hear him; the hubbub to be found everywhere in the big city drowned him out. That didn’t bother me too much, however, as I’d heard what I needed to hear, and it had given me a very simple idea. What if I stage a coup? I think that could work well for me.

I stood there for another few minutes lost in thought before heading toward the mission. Before I did anything, I needed to discuss it with Brother Yur. He seemed to know much more about the lay of the land than your ordinary treasurer.

***

Neither von Ostin nor Tren-Bren was on the mission porch, so I assumed the fairy had rushed the knight off into the woods. At least she’s getting something out of it.

The grandmaster was obviously there since I heard him yelling desperately in an attempt to intimidate Yur, who was standing at the top of the stair.

“And I’m telling you, Brother Yur, that woodworms ate all the chairs! You know what kind of climate we have! They’re everywhere, and they eat everything they can get their little mouths on! And since we should have uniformity throughout the missions, I went and bought the exact same furniture!”

“I g-guess the little worms ate holes r-right where the inventory numbers sh-should be?” There was no shaking Brother Yur off his tail. “And maybe they wrote ‘Lancelot’s an idiot’ on the back of this one.”

“No, of course the worms didn’t write that. It was probably one of my knights; you know how they get.”

“You know, I-I’m not even going to bother explaining t-to you why you’re lying.”

“Why would you think I’m lying?” Genuine hurt crept into von Ditmar’s voice.

“For starters, because I was the one who wrote that years ago.” Brother Yur clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, looking down fearlessly at the giant knight. “I wrote that a-about my desk mate Lancelot. He really was a-an idiot, dreaming all the time about f-finding and killing a dragon, even though w-we all know there’s n-no such thing. The furniture back then was j-just as bad as it is now, and here it is. So, c-could you explain how old chairs suddenly b-became new chairs?”

Von Ditmar, you’re about to owe me enough drinks to last the winter.

“Brother Yur, could I talk to you for a minute?” I asked, waving up at him. “It’s really important.”

He looked at me without much affection in his eyes, though he started down the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-One

In which the hero does his best to lay the groundwork for a coup.

“Is e-everything okay?” Brother Yur was clearly annoyed that I was getting in the way of accounting justice. “I hope you h-heard everything you needed to know?”

“Yes, and thank you again. I actually learned more than I wanted, and I had an idea I’d like to run by you; you’re the only person I have to ask for advice.”

I could tell that the treasurer knew much more than someone of his position would be expected to, and he was probably one of a very small number of characters in the game who could tell me if it was worth trying to trigger a coup. Not only that, but I really liked the NPC with his vivacious, if tired eyes, the sharp nose, and the fine sense of irony.

“What you w-want to tell me won’t send me to the scaffold, will it?” Brother Yur asked.

“I’m not sure I would say that, but I can’t say that it will,” I replied honestly, though less than clearly. “You’re on the right track, however. I’d like to see if you think overthrowing the current government in the Western Reaches is worth a try.”

Brother Yur rubbed his chin and looked closely at me. “Why?”

I was a bit taken aback. “Well, I guess I just want to know if it’s possible.”

“N-no, I’m not talking about that. Nearly e-everything in this life is possible—you c-can eat a frog; climbing th-the highest mountain is more than doable; and if you know how and really want to, you can even turn a r-river around. But the question i-is, why? I-if you can answer that question f-for yourself, everything e-else is just part o-of a plan you should d-do your best to follow. So I-I want to know, why do you w-want to do that?”

I realized what he was getting at. “There’s something I need—really need—in the king’s treasury. Only the king can get in there, and so there’s no way I can buy or even steal it. The king is an absurd, idiotic nitwit, meaning that my only option is to get rid of him.”

While I’m not sure why, I had no desire to make up a story, and so I told Brother Yur the truth. He heard me out, taking some time to think and again rub his chin.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Your g-goal is clear, though it sounds like you’re m-more a r-romantic than a pragmatist—disappointing. And anything like ‘I need an item, so let’s overthrow the king’ is more than a little amateurish. With that s-said, there is some o-overlap in our goals. I certainly don’t a-approve of such measures as a rule but this king d-doesn’t exactly favor our order, a-and that is impacting our b-bottom l-line. It’s c-costing us more, as he’s s-spawned far too much c-corruption. All in all, I th-think your plan could be a good one b-both for the West and for the o-order.”

“That’s not exactly the answer I was looking for,” I replied, squinting at him.

“What k-kind of answer did you want? ‘You h-have my blessing’? I’m no p-priest; I’m a f-financier. I d-deal in f-facts and figures, and I have assets, l-liabilities, and my b-balance. That’s it. And for th-that reason, we’re going to head into the o-office and see what you have that c-could make this operation work. Adalard!”

The grandmaster appeared in front of us instantaneously.

“We’ll be n-needing your office for the next half-hour, so p-please place two knights on guard. Nobody i-is to come in, and any e-eavesdroppers I catch will find themselves rotting in m-missions somewhere in the South. Questions?”

“None whatsoever!” barked von Ditmar.

“N-no surprise there,” Brother Yur muttered to himself under his breath as he walked up the stairs. “No b-brains, no questions. Woodworm…”

Once in the office, he sat down at the table and looked at me. “Well, y-young man, go ahead. D-do you have any aces up your sleeve? And be up front w-with me—I can see right through you.”

You unlocked a set of hidden quests: All Hail the King!

Reward for completing the entire set:

8000 experience

4000 gold

Set item matching your class from the Treasury of the Western Kings

Signet Ring of the Western Crown

Title: Pillar of the Western Throne

Accept?

That was not something I was expecting to see. Okay, so it wasn’t a complete surprise, though it was a great find nonetheless. I wonder if Brother Yur is the only quest starter. Could there be more? Vitold, for example?

“So we’re g-going to just sit here quietly?” Brother Yur said, trying to hurry me along.

You unlocked Exact Plan.

This is the first in the All Hail the King! series of hidden quests.

Task: Talk with and convince the NPC that it is possible to overthrow the current king.

Reward:

1000 experience

Support for your endeavor on the part of the NPC

Ability to unlock the next quest in the series

Ah-ha, so it’s “the NPC,” and not “Brother Yur.” I had been right: he wasn’t the only quest starter. On the other hand, it didn’t make a difference. I would have pursued my idea regardless—getting a quest for it was just the cherry on top.

“If y-you’re not going to say anything, then th-this isn’t going to be very productive. I have b-better things to do,” Brother Yur said, his brows furrowed.

“No, no, I was just gathering my thoughts,” I replied quickly. “What would you like to know?”

“Me?” Brother Yur jabbed a finger at his chest. “I d-don’t want anything except to f-figure out what that tin fool von Ditmar did with a-all that money. Well, I guess I’d l-like to know why the universe i-is the way it is. But th-that’s it on my end. If you can t-tell me what you have and what y-you’re thinking, I may be able to h-help you get what you’re l-looking for.”

“My suggestion is to stage a palace coup in favor of Princess Anna,” I replied quickly. “From what I’ve heard, she’s smart enough, she’s ambitious, and, more important, she’s a powerful woman. Plus, she has royal blood in her veins.”

“Hold on, she’s s-still alive?” Brother Yur rubbed his hands. “I h-heard she’d left for the best of worlds already. Th-that’s a decent option…more or less.”

“She’s alive and well, and I don’t think she’d be opposed to taking the throne.”

“Well, to d-do that, she’ll first h-have to prove to the world that she has the r-right to it. If we can’t get past th-that problem, this entire conversation is pointless.”

“Bingo!” I clapped exultantly. “I have something you might find very interesting—the White Prince Crown.”

Brother Yur smiled sarcastically. “Yeah, r-right. And I imagine you h-have the seven rubies of kings past and the f-five magic wands from th-the Likura Empire!”

“No, I really do have it. I can’t show it to you right now, though, since it’s in my trunk. I don’t carry it around with me.”

Brother Yur turned dead serious. “Y-you’re not kidding? You have the Wh-white Prince Crown? You could use it to put a-anyone you want on the Western throne, even that blockhead von Ditmar.”

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “Even von Ditmar, I guess.”

“Forget v-von Ditmar,” Brother Yur said with a wave of his hand. “I w-wouldn’t wish a king like th-that on anyone, even if he were completely d-devoted to the order. But the chances o-of your coup being successful just got a big b-boost. So, we h-have the crown, a c-contender for the throne (though we h-have to find her), and support from the o-order (though we’ll have to d-discuss the conditions for that support with th-the contender herself). N-not a bad s-start.”

“We just need some military might. The masses really should get involved as well,” I suggested.

“L-leave the masses be,” replied Brother Yur. “The rabble w-would just pillage and steal instead o-of doing what w-we want, and that d-doesn’t help us. It’s h-hard to deal with them.”

“I can talk with the delegation from the Borderlands; they obviously know which side the bread is buttered on. They have a stake in it, too.”

“That’s c-certainly interesting.” Brother Yur nodded. “Hired swords a-are always good to have. See if you can come to terms on a price and conditions, just don’t forget to haggle with them. Then send their l-leader here so I-I can discuss th-the whole thing with him. Although… I d-don’t think you’ll be up to the task. They’ll p-probably just give you a good d-drubbing. Still try though. The m-most important thing is to send the leader h-here. Although, you know, d-don’t discuss the price with him. They’ll t-take you for a ride, s-since you obviously don’t know your way around m-money. All right, your j-job is to make sure their leader comes here. Do y-your best.”

“So you’re going to be jumping in the middle of this?” I asked.

“You don’t have to p-put it like that,” Brother Yur replied with a frown. “But you’ve been open with me, s-so I’ll be open with you. The order could use a loyal monarch who remembers who put him o-or her on the throne. Anna is as s-sly as they get—I know that as w-well as anyone—but the b-benefits, discounts, favored t-tax status…she’ll definitely give u-us all that. Given our ch-chances of success, which I already calculated, I think this is g-going to turn out well. The order will j-join you, though wars and coups aren’t in my j-job description. I’ll still h-handle the coordination, however. Y-yes… The Borderlands…that’s g-good, though it wouldn’t be a b-bad idea to find some more s-support.” Brother Yur stopped to think, clearly going over how we could seize control of the West with as little bloodshed as possible.

“Okay, I need to run; time is of the essence. My job,” I said, wrapping up what we’d discussed, “is to find Princess Anna, convince her to make a play for the throne, and bring her to the capital. Plus, I need to make a deal with the mercenaries and send them to you.”

“P-precisely,” Brother Yur replied with a nod. “I’ll e-expect you here at m-midnight on Sunday, and we’ll get started then. But everything h-has to be done by then. And r-remember, traitors aren’t just e-executed, they're drowned in bags. It’s a t-tradition!”

You completed a quest: Exact Plan

Reward:

1000 experience

Support for your endeavor on the part of the NPC

Ability to unlock the next quest in the series

I couldn’t help but be impressed by how smart the guy was. It was just a shame that he was a character in a computer game. I would have been happy to be friends with him in real life.

You unlocked Military Aid

This quest is not part of the main All Hail the King! series.

Task: Find at least two allies for your coup, each of which has at least thirty warriors to offer.

Reward:

2000 experience

Information: you are free to decline this quest without any negative consequences.

If you fail this quest, you will not fail the entire series but you will lose one random reward for completing it.

I decided to give it a shot, figuring that it wouldn’t be hard to find two allies.

You unlocked Princess Anna

This is the second in the All Hail the King! series of hidden quests.

Task: Find and convince Princess Anna to participate in your palace coup, taking the throne afterward.

Reward:

2000 experience

Ability to unlock the next quest in the series

Brother Yur and I bowed to each other, and I left him thoughtfully drumming his fingers on the desk. I winked to Adalard, who was pacing outside the door, and walked out into the fresh air.

“We’re getting somewhere,” I said to no one in particular as I headed toward the city center. Back during my first walk around Aegan, I’d noticed that there was a sort of diplomatic region not far from the central square, and I assumed the Borderlands embassy was there. The hotel was also on the way. While Brother Yur hadn’t asked me to show him the crown, Princess Anna would be far less inclined to take me at my word. Incidentally, why were the coup and taking the throne listed separately in the quest description? They’re the same thing, really…

Warning!

You are regularly failing to meet your obligations to the Free Companies. If you don’t visit your company’s base, you may be subject to penalties.

Damn it! I’d completely forgotten that I needed to go buy out my contract. Spending a whole 50,000 gold was a shame, of course, but it had turned out to be a good investment. Without Lane and Ur, I would have had a much tougher time getting through the temples, and I’d also picked up a few levels along the way. Really, if I just needed to put my head down and do some leveling up, the Free Companies were the place to be. The life was harsh, boring, and rigid, but it did the trick.

Over the next hour, I visited the hotel and the local Free Company office, which was off in some hard-to-find side street. I got the usual “I’m sorry to hear that, son, I really am; you were a good warrior,” but finally managed to extricate myself and get the city guards to help me find the building that housed the emissaries from the Borderlands. It was a large, unmarked building hidden behind a high fence, and I would have never guessed that a whole ambassadorial delegation could have lived in it.

I knocked on the door and stepped across the threshold into the darkness, and that was enough to get me a punch in the stomach. My assailants knocked me to the ground, tied my hands behind my back, and a second later had cold steel against my neck.

“It’s him,” someone said. “I noticed him in the palace. He was just hanging around us, and now he found his way here. The way he’s snooping around, I swear he’s got to be one of Federik’s!”

“Sure looks that way, Ring.” That voice I recognized; it was gray-mustachioed Sventonidius. “I think we can just slit his throat and dump his body in a well. We’re leaving tomorrow anyway, and we’ll be gone by the time they find him.”

“No, no, no!” I called out to him. “Stay away from my throat, not to mention wells! I’m here with an offer for you.”

“Your business on this earth is done,” a third voice chimed in. He had to be their leader, the one who left the reception hall first. “Go ahead, Ring, drag him out into the courtyard. I don’t want his blood in here.”

“Just listen to me, would you?” I yelled, rolling up my arms and legs. “You can’t kill me—I’m too valuable. I swear, I really am!”

The only answer was amiable laughter.

I felt like an idiot. Some stranger had walked in already with an offer to overthrow the king… Damn it, Brother Yur was right again, all except one thing—they’re going to cut my throat rather than beat me up. The general idea, granted, was the same. How does he always know what’s going to happen before it happens?

“Untie one arm and let me show you something. You can leave the sword on my neck,” I said calmly. “What’s the harm in that?”

“Well, seeing as how you’re so graciously allowing us to keep the sword there, then of course,” the leader said sarcastically. “Untie him, and let’s see what he’s got.”

I relaxed, a knife cut away the rope at my wrists, and it fell to the floor. Then I very slowly lifted my right hand, stuck it into my bag, felt around for the White Prince Crown, and pulled it out, looking their leader in the eye as I did.

“Hey, you in charge, you know what this is?” I asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group. “I think you do.”

It was a big risk. The cutthroats very well could have just slipped the sword at my neck a little deeper in hopes of grabbing the crown. They wouldn’t have been successful, of course, but it would still have been frustrating. I’d have had to dress myself up and come back to collect my things…

Somebody whistled, and that’s when the leader of the Borderlands warriors spoke up. “Yes, that’s pretty serious. Let him go. I don’t know who he is but it’s safe to say he’s certainly not one of Federik’s. All he had to do was give that to Federik, and he, his grandkids, and their grandkids would never have had to worry about money, girls, or drinks ever again.”

“That’s for sure,” confirmed Sventonidius.

They let me up, pulling the sword away from my neck, and I looked around cautiously.

“So why are you here?” asked the leader, a tough-looking guy whose name was Bran.

“Don’t laugh, and don’t think I’m crazy, but I think we’re looking for the same thing,” I replied.

“You need an alliance with the Western Mark so you can fight off an invasion from the South?” Bran asked.

“No, I don’t need an alliance with the Western Mark,” I replied, matching his tone. “I need somebody else on the throne in the West—the kind of person who can give me what I need and you what you need. I think we should combine our forces and try to make that happen together.”

“Forces?” Bran smiled. “I only see one of you, and there isn’t much reason to believe you. Do you have anyone else?”

“I’m in no hurry to spill my secrets either,” was my dignified reply. “If you’re interested, I’ll give you an address to go to. There will be somebody there to answer all your questions.”

“It’s a trap, Bran,” one of the warriors said.

“Doubtful. If it were a trap, we’d already be in a fight surrounded by the city guard. What’s the address?”

I explained where he needed to go, wrapping my explanation up by telling him that it was the Tearful Goddess Order. Bran and Sventonidius exchanged glances.

“The order is involved?” Sventonidius asked with reverence in his voice.

“Yep,” I said, looking over at him. “You aren’t the only ones who’d like to slit Federik’s throat. Okay, anyway, if we’re all set here, I’m going to head off. By the way, I wouldn’t wait too long to make that trip; we need to get going.”

Bran nodded. “Okay, if you’re telling the truth about everything, I think we’ll be able to make you quite a nice gift. We Borderlanders remember the good things people do for us as well as the bad.”

“Who do you want to replace the old bag on the throne with?” Sventonidius asked suddenly.

“Anna,” I replied impressively. “Princess Anna.”

Bran and Sventonidius glanced at each other again, and this time the gray-mustachioed warrior nodded with satisfaction. Phew, looks like they definitely won’t be killing me now.

“Nobody’s seen her in a while.” Bran frowned. “Do you know where she is?”

“That isn’t just my secret,” I said, deciding against laying all my cards down on the table. It wasn’t worth it.

“Okay, then we’ll do this,” Bran replied, coming over to stand in front of me. “We’ll go where you told us to go, and we’ll talk with whoever meets us there. But if it’s a trap or some sort of joke, you should know that the entire Borderlands will hunt you up one side of Rattermark and down the other. We’re a close community, with at least one of ours in pretty much any city you might visit. But, again, if you’re telling the truth, you’ll have a hundred of the best fighters on your side; there are twenty here with me, and at least another eighty hired out in this area.”

“Don’t talk with just anyone you meet!” I said quickly, worried he’d ruin the whole thing by spilling the beans to Adalard. “Ask to speak to Brother Yur.”

“I warned you,” Bran said menacingly once again, “and you heard me.”

“Why would I possibly want to lie to you?” Giving it one more effort to get through to him, I left with a wave of my hand. It was no use trying to prove anything to the warriors or their leader, and pressing the point would have just left them less inclined to believe me than ever. Forget them—Brother Yur can play on their emotions or, more likely, their greed. He had a better shot at it, and I had better things to do. Time was becoming a factor, too.

I’ll start with this. I pulled out the ring the dryad had given me in the North. It hadn’t seemed like much then, but it was exactly what I needed.

Princess Anna’s Signet Ring

A family heirloom lost and long looked for by one of the most well-known families in the West.

Quest item

If you don’t have the quest this item is for, you can accept it right now.

Would you like to accept it?

Obviously, that’s exactly what I wanted to do, as I figured it would take me precisely where I needed to go next.

You unlocked Family Heirloom

Task: Try to find Princess Anna, who is currently in hiding, and give her the ring that was stolen from her family many years ago.

Reward:

2000 experience

Rare item: random

The gratitude of the princely house of Eisher

So that wasn’t exactly what I was looking for: “try to find,” “currently in hiding”… You’re kidding me. I pulled up my map and wasn’t too surprised to see that there weren’t any red spots anywhere. That would have been too much to hope for. You know what? Screw it, I have a personal contact I can call on. And where was he? Exactly. In Radzhach Province.

***

It was with no pleasure whatsoever that I breathed in the pungent, humid air of the South. I just didn’t like it in the least. There were the snakes, the constant moisture, the unfriendly looks. Speaking of which, there’s that kid checking me out.

“Hey, you,” I called over to him with a wave. “Go tell whoever you’re supposed to that there’s a stranger here about to march into the jungle. Go, go!”

He stared at me, his eyes popping out as if to say that he had no idea what I meant and wasn’t really right in the head to begin with. Then he took off running.

“Back to the guerilla warfare,” I said, spitting, before heading toward the edge of the village and starting along the familiar path.

I spent the next half hour sitting on a log and thanking my lucky stars that there weren’t as many flying nuisances in the game as there were in real life. How do people possibly go to the jungle for fun?

“Looking for someone?” Danoot asked, pulling me away from my thoughts.

“Hey, Comandante.” I held up my right fist in a salute. “Patria o muerte!”

“What?” Danoot stared at me in confusion.

“Forget it,” I replied with a wave. “Where’s Vaylerius?”

“There, he’s coming.”

The young mage stepped out of the jungle.

“Hi, Vaylerius,” I called over to him. “Do you know how to use portal scrolls?”

“Of course,” he answered with surprise.

“Then here, take this, and let’s go see your mom,” I said, only increasing his surprise.

“Why?” Vaylerius was taken aback by my directness, not to mention the fact that I was a bit rude, but his good manners kept him from telling me to screw myself. “My mom…”

His voice trailed off when he saw the ring I pulled out of my bag and showed to him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

In which the hero gets a kick out of the people he spends time with.

“Dale August’s signet ring!” Vaylerius gasped. “Where did you find it?”

“That’s a long story, my friend,” I replied, adding a veil of mystery. “Regardless, I think it’s something your mom’s been trying to find for quite a while now.”

“My entire family’s been looking for it for a century and a half.” Vaylerius was having a hard time pulling himself together. “They announced rewards, set up a mage competition to see if they could use magic to find it, even sent out troops. The number of our warriors who died in the search…crazy.”

Danoot snorted, clearly displaying his contempt for the stupid aristocrats who would go tramping off who knows where in search of a dumb trinket rather than stay at home loving the beauty of life.

“What was that about mages?” That caught my interest. I wasn’t sure what lay ahead, and knowing people who could find things from a distance was never a bad thing.

“Bunch of crooks,” Vaylerius replied, twisting his face into a disgusted grimace. “We still lived in the castle back then, since it was before we were banished, and my mother announced a competition she called Battle of the Sorcerers. Naturally, maybe two dozen of the rogues showed up. Some had tambourines, others crystal balls, some had beards down to their knees, and one came wearing feathers pasted to his skin. He even had a few sticking out of his rear end. They didn’t find a thing, though they searched the whole courtyard, ported servants off to who-knows-where, got into a fight with the head of the guards, and somehow even got into the wine cellar in the middle of the night. I don’t know what kind of sorcerers they were, though they obviously had a good bit of experience finding alcohol.”

“What happened then?” I was enjoying the story.

“Nothing.” Vaylerius shrugged. “Some of them were hung, a few had their heads cut off. Mom made the one with the feathers jump off the castle wall. She said that anyone with that many feathers must be able to fly.”

She does sound like a sweet, quiet, compassionate kind of princess. I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t try to have me “fly.”

“But the ring is the most important thing. Let’s go see her right now; there isn’t much time. And you, Danoot, I have something for you to do that’s more in line with your interests, so come with us. Emancipating the people and all that.”

“You do?” Danoot squinted at me incredulously. “That’s odd.”

“What are you talking about?” I sniffed, insulted. “You don’t think my heart aches for all the orphan boys and girls, the downcast, the browbeaten in the world? It may very well ache more than yours. Don’t be an idiot. Let’s go, time’s running out.”

“Hold on,” Danoot said, his face turning a little red. “We’re going to see the princess, so I need to change and get some of the others. They’ve never met her, and they’ll be hurt if we don’t invite them.”

Seriously? This was the leader of the swashbuckling partisans. They should have jumped on the disgraced aristocrat, tramped across the floor in rags and muddy boots, and sniffed as they spat at her. Instead, he wanted to put on his Sunday best, and he even had a little rosy flush to his cheeks. Regardless, I wasn’t opposed to meeting the other two leaders; I figured they might come in handy.

“Damn it, I’m not walking through the jungle again,” I said, agreeing with him. “Here’s a scroll; let’s head to your camp.”

Danoot faltered and then handed the scroll to Vaylerius. “I don’t know how. I just don’t,” he explained begrudgingly.

“That’s no good. You should be in a tireless hunt for new skills and abilities,” I told him didactically. “Knowledge is the best weapon the proletariat has at its disposal. It works much better than rocks, another popular weapon in their arsenal.”

“Who?” asked Danoot. “What’s the ‘proletariat’? Can you tell me more about that?”

All I needed was to teach those compañeros Marxist-Leninist theory, and have them throw their own socialist revolution out there in the jungle.

“Forget it. And keep nonsense like that out of your head,” I replied quickly. “Leave the thinking for…I don’t know…the bears. Their heads are bigger.”

Vaylerius had been patiently listening to us, though he finally cut in. “Are you two about done? Can we go now?” He opened the portal.

***

The rebel camp was… Well, it was a rebel camp. There were tents, fires, and the slaughtered carcass of some herbivorous animal that had had the misfortune to catch the eye of one of the rebel’s archers. It was noisy, laughter rang through the air, and you could barely hear yourself through the hubbub.

“Ah, they caught a nobleman!” said one of the free people when he saw us. He was a small, scarred man wearing a leather vest over an otherwise naked torso. “Time for some fun?”

“Shut up, Swifty,” Danoot shot back at him.

“And there you have it, brothers! What did you say to me, you shameful she-wolf?” Swifty said in a hysterical and anguished voice. “Looks like our leaders are tired of us; they’re off cavorting with the noblemen, the dogs…”

A knife flashed, and Swifty’s body collapsed into the fire.

Progress made completing Military Aid

You and your associate have been joined by one group of warriors.

Ah-ha! It looked like Brother Yur had been able to work Bran, picking the right arguments and words to bring him over to our side. Why was I not surprised?

“Xant, why?” Danoot frowned. “The idiot was just running his mouth. What was the matter with that?”

An unbelievably beautiful girl wearing a leather jacket and pants that accentuated all the right curves bent over gracefully, shooting a playful glance in my direction, and pulled her knife out of Swifty’s body.

“I couldn’t take him anymore. Always with the yelling, the nonsense, and especially when he was drunk. It would’ve been fine if he hadn’t been so loud, but no… And the way he looked at me made me feel like I needed a bath. How long can you put up with that? And who did you bring?”

“This is Hagen. Remember, I told you how we hid in the temple from the walkers?”

The girl’s forehead crinkled, perhaps trying to remember, though she came over and held out her hand. “I’m Xantria, this burly fellow’s sister.”

“Hagen, Free Laird of Tronje.” Her hand was firm and warm to the touch.

“You really are noble.” Xantria turned back to her associates. “The idiot was right.”

The poor guy’s body had already disappeared into the fire. They had simple manners, those children of the forest living on the edge between life and death.

“Who’s this nobleman?” A large, curly-headed man crawled out of the far tent, a mustache spread across his face, an enormous earring in his ear, and a purple silk shirt buttoned up to his neck. A smoking pipe was clenched between his teeth. “Where’s he from, and why is he still alive?”

“I brought him, and the fact that he’s still alive means that he’s supposed to stay that way,” Danoot cut back before crawling into another of the tents.

“Xant, I realize he’s your brother,” the curly-headed man said, walking over and looking at me unpleasantly. I assumed he was the fourth leader of the local army, and thought I remembered that his name was Yasmuga. What surprised me was that he said some words, and only some words, with a vaguely familiar accent. It struck me as funny. “But lately he’s a bit… Well… He seems to be straying toward thinking that he’s in charge here. That would seem to be a mistaken assumption, my friends, no?”

He waved his hand, which was holding his pipe, toward the rest of the rebels. They murmured approvingly, some even clapping.

“Quiet, quiet, comrades,” Yasmuga said, waving his pipe again at the noisy crowd. “I think, my friends, that we’re all equal, only Danoot for some reason thinks that a few of us have the right to more than the rest. And that is a serious mistake. I would even say that it’s more than a mistake; it’s unforgivably short-sighted politically. Criminal, perhaps. Wouldn’t you agree, Vaylerius?”

“Yeah!” shouted the delighted rebels. “What you said! Didn’t understand a word, but you’re right on the money!”

Vaylerius held his tongue, smiled nervously, and looked around. The rebels whispered to each other, with one, a dark, muscular gentleman, staring fixedly at Danoot’s tent. He stroked an axe so large it resembled an ice pick.

Xantria, as if thinking nothing of it, put a hand on her belt, which was dotted with the hilts of a good six or seven knives. Vaylerius, still smiling, clutched his staff tighter. Neither of their actions was missed by Yasmuga, who coiled as well. The leadership of the rebels—dedicated to fighting to the death for all the lowly peoples in Fayroll—was clearly less than united.

“What was that about a criminal? I didn’t hear the first part. What were you talking about, Yasmuga?” Danoot said, a second later crawling out of his tent.

“I’m talking about the criminal cabal of fat cats exploiting the working people, my friend.” Yasmuga kept waving around the hand with the pipe as he watched Danoot carefully. “They’re just waiting for us to let down our guard, but our answer is that we will not.”

The enthralled rebels broke into spontaneous applause, glancing back and forth from one leader to the other.

And there really was something to see. Danoot was dressed to the nines for our visit to Princess Anna. He’d switched out what had been a perfectly fine linen shirt and vest for a black doublet with…someone painted on it.

“Danoot,” I asked him as he put on his belt and sword, “who’s that drawn on your chest?”

“This?” Danoot jabbed a finger at the figure. “This is Bert Dim Revar, one of the first leaders of the legendary liberation front fighting for the freedom of the gremlins.”

“The gremlins?” That was the first I’d heard of gremlins in the game.

“They were a brave and valiant people,” Danoot replied, his voice tinged with sadness. “There weren’t many of them, but they were steadfast and fierce in battle.”

The mustachioed gremlin on his doublet really did look nasty. In one hand, he held a cleaver, while the other was flipping someone the bird. He had belts crisscrossed around his waist that made him look like either a revolutionary sailor or a plumber, and his helmet was slung jauntily over one eye. The picture was completed by the tongue sticking out of his mouth.

“Bert Dim Revar came out of the very depths, right out of the earth, rallied all the gremlins around him, and showed absolutely everyone that they have a right to life and freedom. Ah, how he showed them!”

“He slaughtered five villages, too,” Vaylerius muttered off to the side.

“And razed a couple towns,” Xantria added thoughtfully.

“Chips fly when you’re cutting wood,” Yasmuga noted philosophically. “Do you agree with me, Xantria?”

The beautiful girl didn’t reply.

“Wait a second, so he fought against humans?” I asked Danoot in bewilderment.

“We’re for all races, and we don’t care which one heroes belong to or which language they speak. Actions are what matter.” Danoot puffed out his chest, all without answering my question.

“Yes, it doesn’t sound like that little guy cared about the different races either,” I noted. “He just slit all their throats, one after another.”

“On the other hand, he was an excellent warrior who always stood for truth!” It looked like Danoot was even a bit offended.

“What happened happened,” Vaylerius nodded.

“They say he started his career as a warrior at the tournaments,” Xantria added. “And he always won, even with how short he was.”

“Very educational,” I replied, cutting short our discussion of the gremlin people’s hero. “Can we go? Time’s ticking.”

“Yes, let’s go,” Danoot replied with a nod. “Are you all coming?”

“Coming where?” asked Xantria.

“To see Vaylerius’s mom,” the brave ringleader replied, his face again blushing.

“Count me out,” Yasmuga said, pipe waving. “I’d rather spend time here with our brothers in arms.”

“I’ll come,” Xantra said with a quick glance at the mage. “I’ve wanted to meet her for a while, and I have something to tell her.”

The mage stuttered about something and scratched the back of his neck before bursting out with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I need a scroll!”

“Here.” I handed one to him, thinking to myself that we were less in a rebel base and more on the set of some kind of TV show. The kind where they sit around doing nothing much, get all up in each other’s business, and never learn anything constructive.

Ding! Something popped up on the interface telling me that I’d gotten a letter. I wasn’t sure who would be writing me but nothing good had come through the mail in the recent past. Of course, I still needed to read it; you have to hear the bad news before it’s too late, too. Actually, the bad news is what you need to hear first since you need time to get ready for the consequences. But I had to finish what I was doing first.

When we stepped out of the portal, I realized that Princess Anna really was a smart woman. Only that kind of person would hide from her pursuers just a few miles from them in a small town called Trinsville on the bank of the Crisna. I couldn’t imagine that anyone would even think to look for her just a couple days away from the capital.

“Not a bad little town,” Danoot said, looking around with a practiced gaze to see where the guards were, where they weren’t, and what could be exported for the needs of the people.

“Let’s go.” Vaylerius was also looking around to see if the city guard was anywhere nearby, as he knew perfectly well that an exotic band like ours would be sure to attract attention. There was a mage, a guy with a goblin on his robe, and a cutie dressed in leather to go along with me and my poorly matching armor. Anyone who saw us could only have assumed that we were a traveling circus or a band of crooks. Those were the only two options.

“Is it far?” I asked.

“On a street over there. Come on, let’s go,” the mage said, hurrying us along.

I really wanted to stop by the mailbox, though I realized that I’d be much better off visiting the princess with her son; she’d definitely be home then. If I came a little later, there was no guaranteeing that she would be. Judging by what I knew of her, she was highly experienced and had spent a long time on the run…

Vaylerius lead us up and down different streets for five minutes before finally stopping in front of a high fence. He tapped out a code in the carved gate.

“Who’s there?” a strong male voice asked from the other side.

“It’s me,” Vaylerius called back. “Reggie, open up.”

“Ah, young master,” we heard, though the voice was in no hurry to open the gate. “Who’s with you?”

“My friends and another gentleman from… Where are you from again?” Vaylerius looked at me. “Just say it, he won’t open it until you tell him.”

“From Tronje,” I called, in no mood to be stubborn.

“Tronje?” The voice was quiet for a few seconds, though he stunned me when he continued. “I remember that town, over on the sea, on the other side of the Sumaki Mountains. I’ve been there a few times; they have a great plum cordial.”

What? There’s a Tronje in the game? Maybe I should go see my two older brothers… It was ridiculous.

The gate creaked open, and a very small man with a large humpback and plenty of gray hair appeared from behind it.

“Is mom at home?” Vaylerius asked, ignoring his bow. “I really need her.”

“The fair mistress is drinking chocolate on the veranda,” the hunchback replied.

Danoot snorted as if to say that the whole thing couldn’t have been more aristocratic—the sun was high in the sky, it was a work day, and there she was drinking chocolate.

“Calm down, chocolate isn’t cocoa,” I said in an attempt to cheer him up. “It’s actually a very revolutionary drink!”

“It’s what kind of drink?” Danoot asked curiously.

Oh, damn it. I need to watch my mouth.

“A rebel drink. I used the Swahili term; that’s a language they have in the East.”

“I like the way it sounds,” Danoot said approvingly. “Revolutionary. I love it.”

If I get a revolution going here by accident, Zimin and Valyaev are going to have me looking like Lenin, though I’ll be off somewhere in the ground, and certainly not in the middle of Red Square. And it won’t be an accident.

“Mom. Mo-om!” Vaylerius called as he walked toward the house. “It’s me!”

“Vaylie, sweetie, it’s been forever since you were last here.” A strikingly beautiful woman walked out to meet us. I could tell by looking at her hands that she was past the prime of her youth (don’t believe the cheeks, chest, and waist; arms and the neck are what tell you how old a woman is), though she was still very attractive. She was at that age where women need a single glance to separate a man from the herd and have him whimpering in the palm of her hand. Really, she looked like the rare kind of woman who could take men captive against their will without the least consent on their part. She was born to rule peoples and countries—that much was clear. Well, as much as you can say that anyone in a computer game is “born”…

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Vaylie, you could have warned me that you’d have your friends with you.” She nodded to us coldly.

I could tell that she’d already noticed the brave gremlin on Danoot’s chest, Xantria’s grin, and my shabby look, and I had to think that we wouldn’t have found her at home if she’d been warned. The mage was nobody’s fool. I did have to break through the situation, though.

“Good afternoon, fair lady,” I said, going over and bowing my head. “Laird Hagen, Hagen of Tronje. I’m here to return something that belongs to you.”

“I don’t remember us ever meeting before, and I’m not sure you could come to have something of mine,” Anna replied, still just as coldly.

“We haven’t met,” I agreed, “though the two have nothing to do with one another. Is this yours?”

I pulled out the ring and showed it to the princess.

“Ah-ha!” she responded calmly. “You managed to find our family heirloom? Well, that is certainly unexpected.”

Now that is some damn fine restraint. Her eyes didn’t twinkle, her hands didn’t even tremble. All I noticed was that she started breathing a touch lighter. The hunchback also slipped in behind me.

“So it’s yours? Then go ahead and take it.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Hagen of Tronje, but you’re willing to give me the ring?”

“Absolutely,” I replied. “That I am.”

“And what would you like in return? Unfortunately, I’m not that rich…”

“I don’t need anything,” I said, even waving my hand dismissively. “All I’d like is five or six minutes of your time. That’s it.”

The princess did lose her calm then, as she didn’t quite take my words the way they were intended.

“If you’re talking about the two of us…”

“No, no, not at all.” I heard an angry sniff from the hunchback behind me as well as the sound of a dagger being pulled out of its sheath. “I’d like to make you an offer on the veranda or even right here on this path. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

“Yes?” The princess looked at me doubtfully. “Well, then you have a deal.”

I held out the ring, and she took it gracefully.

You completed a quest: Family Heirloom

Reward:

2000 experience

Rare item: random

The gratitude of the princely house of Eisher

“I’m not sure what you’re going to tell me,” the princess said,” though I’d still like to give you this ring. It isn’t nearly as ancient and valuable as the one you gave me, but it’s my present to you. And remember, the princely house of Eisher will always remember what you did for it.”

“I am happy to serve such a famous and ancient family, a family that has the right to stand above all others in the kingdom, and one that could even take the throne in the West,” I announced floridly.

“Those are very brave words, and I’m happy to hear them, though they’re also dangerous words,” the princess replied, watching me closely.

“They are no more dangerous than what I am about to tell you. If anyone close to the king heard me, I’d be sewn up in a bag and dumped in the river without a second thought,” I said, catching her glance.

We looked at each other for another thirty seconds, after which the princess smiled radiantly. “Then what are we doing standing here on the path like some wanderers? Reggie, take my son and his friends to the gazebo, give them beer or tea, or whatever else they want. Thane Hagen and I are going to have a talk in my office.”

“I’m a laird,” I explained to the princess.

“Yes? My mistake,” she replied, smiling charmingly. “Please, after you.”

The princess’s office surprised me with how many books and scrolls it had. They obviously weren’t for show, either; Anna read them and had even edited them here and there.

“Not all authors are equal,” she explained. “Some should really just have their hands cut off. I only wish I had the power to make that happen.”

“Power isn’t the issue,” I replied. “Just say the word, and you’ll be sitting on the Western throne on Monday morning.”

The princess smiled thinly. “If it weren’t for the ring, I’d have killed you already. People don’t just walk in here with those kinds of offers, especially when I don’t know them, and even more especially, when they’re with my idiot son and his renegade friends.”

“How should they walk in?” I fired back. “At night, wearing a black cloak, talking only in whispers? I’ll be honest, this isn’t for you; it’s for me. Everyone else involved is in it for themselves, as well.”

“So you aren’t alone?”

“Princess, when have you ever seen plots like this done alone? We’re not planting cabbage; we’re engineering a change in power—you need a lot of people for that. I have Bran from the Borderlands and Brother Yur from the Tearful Goddess Order with me.”

“Yur is involved?” The princess’s tone changed. “That chatterbox is always running his mouth about something a mile a minute, but there isn’t much use—”

“Come on, Princess, don’t make me think less of you than I do. I doubt he’s ever been that talkative, and it sounds like he’s had that stutter since he was born. If you’re going to try to trip me up, at least make it interesting…”

“You’re right, that was a hackneyed move,” the princess agreed. “Well, you have a good group, one I wouldn’t mind a trip to the gallows with—or even to the river in a bag. I’m just afraid—”

“Don’t be afraid.” I showed her the White Prince Crown. “No need for that.”

The rest of our conversation lasted ten minutes. She won me over completely with the clear and precise questions she asked, learning everything she needed and giving me subtle recommendations on how to pass them on to Brother Yur.

“I won’t take the crown myself,” she said toward the end. “The throne isn’t for me; it’s for my son.”

Ah-ha. There’s the catch in the quest.

“That’s a shame, the house was a fine one,” I said sadly.

“Which house?” the princess responded, looking up at me.

“The house of Eisher. Old, even ancient, though about to come to an end, it looks like.”

The princess frowned.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” I asked. “That son you want to sit on the throne may be a good, smart kid, but he’s unbelievably naïve. He spends his time roaming the jungles with insurgents freeing peasants; he’s sleeping with a rebel girl; and I’m afraid to tell you, she’s pregnant. What would be left of the Western Mark in six months? And do you think he would live that long?”

“So it wasn’t just me,” she replied. “I thought that ragamuffin was looking a little puffy. He takes after his father, that one.”

You completed a quest: Princess Anna

This is the second in the All Hail the King! series of hidden quests.

Reward:

2000 experience

Right then, something dinged.

You unlocked Level 59!

Points ready to be distributed: 5

“You convinced me, Thane Hagen,” the princess said, sitting down in a chair.

“Laird,” I replied shortly.

“If we do what we’re planning on Monday, then you’ll be a thane. What else do you need from the Western crown?”

“I need an item from the treasury, an old brass chalice that was sent there from the Academy of Wisdom. Inventory number—”

“You’ll have your chalice,” the princess interrupted me. “It’s a small loss for the treasury. Why did you bring those two with you, by the way?”

“What else could I do?” I replied with a shrug. “Your son is going to get involved one way or another, and I’d rather have someone there with him to watch his back. They really are all friends there. Well, almost all of them.” I couldn’t help but think of Yasmuga and his pipe. “They also have another hundred people, and you can send them back into the jungle when we’re done. Or you can have them executed, whatever you think is best.”

“Agreed. Okay, Thane Hagen, do you know what you’re supposed to tell Brother Yur?”

“Of course. Expect me here the day after tomorrow at a quarter to midnight.”

You unlocked Go-Between

This is the third in the All Hail the King! series of hidden quests.

Task: Pass on to Brother Yur what Princess Anna told you.

Reward:

500 experience

Ability to unlock the next quest in the series

“Good luck.”

“And to you, fair lady. I’m going to say goodbye to everyone before I head over to see Brother Yur.”

“In that case, Thane, would you mind asking that fidgety girl up here? What’s her name?” The princess snapped her fingers.

“Xantria,” I replied as I walked out of the office.

Chapter Twenty-Three

In which the hero wraps up preparations for what should be an interesting night.

The gazebo was completely quiet. The three brave warriors fighting to see equal rights for the peoples and races of Fayroll sat around the table like mice stuffed to the gills, and none of them were really looking at each other. I wasn’t sure why that was, though I didn’t really care; I had enough of my own problems.

Things had dragged on quite a while in the game, and I had a lot to do both there and in real life. I was expecting the email with the dacha descriptions, and I needed to go through it before Vika saw anything so I could find a good reason not to go visit them all. Women are always like that; they can’t calm down until they’ve seen everything. Only then, do they say something like, “You know, that first one really was the best, don’t you think?” And nobody cares that you’ve been saying that from the beginning…

“Xantria, the princess is expecting you in her office,” I said to the girl as I walked into the gazebo. “Into the house, up the stairs, and it’s on the left.”

“What does she need me for?” She looked at me with hostility in her eyes.

“How should I know?” I replied with a shrug. “If she asked for you, she needs something. Go ahead, get up there.”

“Xant, I’ll come with you,” said Vaylerius, getting up. “It’s time we told her…”

“No, you sit there,” Xantria replied. “This is a conversation we need to have woman to woman.”

She gracefully descended into the garden and headed along the path to the house.

“Ah,” the mage sighed. “She doesn’t know my mother.”

“Oh, right, thanks for reminding me. Speaking of your mother,” I said, sitting down, “there’s something afoot that you, my trouble-making friends, will appreciate. The monarchy in a certain country will probably be overthrown.”

“What do you mean?” Danoot started, staring at me interestedly.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” I poured myself some water from the decanter on the table. “In a couple days, we’re going to be wiping out the ruling family of the Western Mark. Some people think Federik has sat on the throne long enough.”

“It’s finally my mom’s turn,” Vaylerius replied. “I hope she’s planning to rule herself. She doesn’t want me to do it, does she?”

“Don’t worry, she’s going to do it herself,” I assured him.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Danoot waved his arms at us. “So we’re going to take down one leader just for another to crawl up and take his place? What’s the point?”

“First of all,” I said, waving a finger under his nose, “it’s not going to be just anyone; it’ll be your friend’s mother. That means you’ll have a ruler loyal to your dubious little band. Third, it’s experience, my dear Marat. Experience.”

“My name is Danoot,” he replied with a frown.

“I’m aware. It’s a common name, and there was this one guy named that who knew all about eradicating class differences. Let’s say, for example, that you want to get rid of the ruler in the East… Well, now you know how to do that. Sound good?”

“I guess so,” Danoot said, doubt still in his voice. “But what do you need from us?”

“What do we need?” I scratched the back of my neck. “Here, take this scroll and go to Aegan when it gets dark. Find the Tearful Goddess Order mission and ask to talk to Brother Yur—he’ll give you instructions. Got it?”

“Got it.” He nodded. “But what about that Marat? He sounds like an interesting guy.”

You completed a quest: Military Aid

Reward:

2000 experience

“I’ll tell you another time; there isn’t any right now,” I assured the young man.

I was only too happy that I’d finished the quest and swelled our numbers. They may have been an unorganized mob but you do what you can. If they got out of hand, I knew, the princess could… Ah, not the princess anymore. The queen! The queen could have them all buried quietly behind the castle if they made too much of a racket or got in the way. If I were in her shoes, I knew I’d at least knock off the one with the pipe. He was an unpleasant fellow, even totalitarian. Anyway, it wasn’t my problem. I just needed to get her to the throne and have her keep her promise, and then she could rule however and execute whoever she wanted.

Having parted ways with the indomitable rebels, I ported to Aegan, where I needed to report back to Brother Yur. He, I had no problem admitting, was heading up the operation. And what was wrong with that? If someone knows how to do the job better than you, and the issue is as important as putting together a plot and engineering a coup, let him take charge. And seeing as how he was in charge, I needed to let him know what I’d done, pass on the information from the princess, and wrap up the quest. Oh, and I need to check my mail. Actually…I think I’ll do that right now. I had no idea what would be happening later.

Good afternoon, my friend.

I’d like to apologize to you for being a bit aloof during our last meeting. My clan and I had a lot dumped on our plate all at once. We were able to take care of some problems, and, while others remain, things aren’t nearly as critical.

Anyway, I don’t think any of that really matters to you. Why should you care about the headaches a clan you don’t belong to is going through, after all?

The main reason why I’m writing is to compensate you for the losses you suffered at the hands of some former Hounds of Death. I imagine it would be fair to do so in full, and so I’m sending you three runes. They aren’t the ones you had stolen but they’re good ones in their own right and perfect for your class. I’m including a tablet, without which you can’t get hidden bonuses for rune fusion.

A small bit of advice: don’t use the manual that comes with the tablet unless you want to go crazy. Just experiment with it yourself—it’s simpler and faster that way.

Sincerely, your friend, the Gray Witch

P.S. Radius said to say hi and recommended that you not be afraid to spend portal scrolls. He thinks you should keep your movements as random and unpredictable as possible.

That was a surprise, and I was thrilled to get new runes. I pulled them and a small, oblong box out of the mailbox.

Hagalaz Rune

One of a set of runes the gods are said to have created in ancient times.

As long as the rune is in the player’s inventory, the player gains +5% attack strength when playing alone as well as +13% chance of doing critical damage when playing in a group.

Check the appropriate table to see the bonuses this rune gives when combined with other runes.

Class limitation: warrior

Minimum level for use: 45

Dagaz Rune

One of a set of runes the gods are said to have created in ancient times.

As long as the rune is in the player’s inventory, the player collects +7% gold from dead opponents and gets a 5% boost to their chance of getting items.

Check the appropriate table to see the bonuses this rune gives when combined with other runes.

Class limitation: warrior

Minimum level for use: 45

Veird Runa

One of a set of runes the gods are said to have created in ancient times.

As long as the rune is in the player’s inventory, the player enjoys +7% protection from mental effects.

Check the appropriate table to see the bonuses this rune gives when combined with other runes.

Class limitation: warrior

Minimum level for use: 45

I really needed to see more than six runes before I could tell how good those three were, though I was certainly happy to get them. More than happy!

Everyone has something in their game that they love collecting most of all. Some people are big into daggers, while others like coins, but there’s something for everybody. Runes were my weakness. I even thought about stopping by the auction to see if I could get lucky. Anyway, the box, which looked something like a pencil case, was presumably the tablet the Gray Witch had mentioned.

Medium tablet for fusing runes

Rare handmade object created by Master Drok

Capacity: five runes

Unlimited use

Does not disappear from your inventory when you die, and includes a 50% chance that the runes will remain safely inside.

Fusion description:

If fusion is successful, there will be a gold cloud.

If fusion is unsuccessful, there will be a “psh” sound.

It sure didn’t sound like just anyone could get their hand on a tablet. Rare, handmade, makes a “psh” sound. Cool!

I dropped all three runes in the box and slid the cover closed. It made a “psh” sound that was so loud a girl player walking by wrinkled her nose and looked at me.

“Eww!”

Well, yeah, sounds the same. Still…fantastic!

Then I left just Veird and Dagaz in the tablet, again shutting the lid. A small gold cloud puffed out of the box.

Notice.

Because you were able to successfully fuse Veird and Dagaz, you get an additional bonus: +4% chance of getting items that wield mental effects from dead opponents.

Well, look at that! I decided to do a little more experimenting later, but that wasn’t bad for just three runes. What if I could get ten of them? Or maybe even all thirty or so?

I pulled open the rune instructions in the interface and quickly closed them. The Witch had been right; you had to be a very mathematically inclined person to dig through all the probability theory involved, and that was not me in the least. When I had the time, I figured, I could just poke around and see what I found. Or I could read the forums.

***

Back at the order mission, I couldn’t help but be surprised. The ruddy-cheeked young knight gazing longingly at the girls walking by had been replaced by two steel-encased giants. They held two-handed swords at the ready, the points resting on the porch floor.

“Oh, wow,” I said, looking them over.

“Who are you? Where are you going? Who do you need to see?” boomed one of them, his voice sounding as if it was echoing around a barrel or pitcher.

“Hagen; inside; Brother Yur,” I replied timidly and honestly, seeing as how I was not about to joke around with those metal beasts.

“You are permitted inside the building, though you’ll have to wait for Brother Mikhael. He will take you in,” the steel giant replied as he slammed his fist against the door. It shook under the force of the blow.

A minute later a fairly tall person walked out dressed in the same type of robe as Brother Yur. A hood covered his face.

“What happened?” he asked the iron titans quietly.

“Someone named Hagen, he’s on the list for entrance into the mission, and he’s here to see Brother Yur. Our instructions were to wait for you before letting him in.”

“You’re Hagen?” asked the robed man, who I assumed was Brother Mikhael.

“The one and only,” I replied, shocked nearly out of my mind. What kind of organizational might does the order have if they can completely remake an out-of-the-way mission into a citadel of order in a few hours? Poor Adalard won’t be drinking anymore wine…

“I’m Brother Mikhael, one of Brother Yur’s trusted assistants. I’ll be taking you to see him. He instructed me to take you in whenever you show up, although he is in the middle of a meeting with an old friend of his…”

“It’s not Vitold, by any chance?” I asked carelessly.

“Yes, that’s him,” Mikhael replied. “Do you know him?”

“Yes, we did some business,” I said, still carelessly, before adding meaningfully, “you know…”

Mikhael nodded, and at that moment, he caught the metal base of the stairs with his hip. I heard the clang of metal on metal, his robe was nearly pulled completely open, and I caught a clear glimpse of steel armor beneath it. He’s definitely from the military side of the order, I thought to myself. Brother Yur has some good friends.

Brother Yur was sitting in the same chair I’d left him in, there were papers covering the table, and Vitold was drinking wine out of a goblet across from him. The two fell silent when the door opened, and they both nodded when they saw me.

“Well, is sh-she in?” Brother Yur asked, jumping right in. “Although, that’s a d-dumb question; I’d never believe that Anna w-would t-turn down what’s she’s been working t-toward for so long, even if she m-might get drowned in a gold-threaded bag for h-her trouble.”

“Why gold-threaded?” I asked.

“You and I-I will get drowned in normal bags, but sh-she belongs to a royal house, and you c-can’t drown people like her in normal b-bags. It’s t-tradition!” explained Brother Yur.

“They’ll probably just drown him. I’ll make sure they don’t get their hands on you,” Vitold said as he threw back some more wine. “We have too much unfinished business.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said, a bit hurt. “Isn’t that always the way it is? The people in the trenches get drowned, and the organizers walk away dry and unscathed.”

“No point taking offense, young man. You should have weighed your chances of success before getting involved with a palace coup like this one. We aren’t playing games here,” Vitold remarked.

“E-exactly right,” Yur responded with a nod. “Never do a-anything without weighing the r-risks ahead of time. You didn’t do that when w-we were talking, even despite my hints th-that you should.”

“I had you two,” I replied to the two sly foxes. “You wouldn’t have gotten involved if you didn’t think we were going to pull it off.”

“Nicely d-done.” A half-smile appeared on Brother Yur’s face. “You have a p-point there. There’s hope f-for you yet, not like most of these knights. All they c-care about is feats and other n-nonsense l-like non-existent dragons.”

“Put it this way: humanity’s most unpleasant element just so happens to be the brave, honest, and noble heroes who are fearless and above reproach,” Vitold said with a grimace. “They’re always out there crisscrossing the earth in search of the truth, always looking for heroic achievements, always trying to figure out who’s at fault and who they should be protecting. They want to know what actually happened, and they never stop harping on and on about the tears of children and protecting their honor. It sickens me. And they don’t actually do anything, and normal people can’t get any work done with them in the way. How have you not gone crazy after all these years, Yur?”

“They’re afraid of me, so th-they don’t get underfoot,” Brother Yur replied laconically. “So wh-what about Anna?”

I gave them a brief summary of my conversation with her, explaining that I’d be back with her before midnight on the day of the coup, and telling them about the young ruffians who’d be stopping by for instructions. Vitold and Brother Yur exchanged glances before nodding at the same time.

“Well done,” Vitold replied, taking another sip of wine.

“All w-we have to do is wait then. The factors h-have all be t-taken into account, the l-levers have all been pressed,” Brother Yur added.

You completed a quest: Go-Between

Reward:

500 experience

“So what am I supposed to do now?” I asked.

“You need to b-bring the princess here—y-you know when,” Brother Yur replied, looking at me. “And b-be careful. I don’t think C-count Gaynor, Federik’s h-head of security, is as much a simpleton as the k-king is. I should s-say, I know h-he is not.”

“Maybe it would be better to send one of your accountants or one of my clerks instead of this adventure-seeker?” Vitold asked with a squint.

“No, th-they’ll draw attention, and this y-young man won’t. Anna knows h-him, too,” Brother Yur responded.

You unlocked Deliver Whole and Unscathed

This is the fourth in the All Hail the King! series of hidden quests.

Task: Get Princess Anna to the Tearful Goddess Order mission.

Mandatory condition: the princess has to get to the mission alive.

Reward:

1500 experience

Ability to unlock the next quest in the series

I nodded and bowed, earning myself a backhanded compliment from Brother Yur.

“You know, y-you haven’t been completely r-ruined b-by this world—there’s still something to you. It g-gives me hope that y-you aren’t a l-lost cause after all.”

And on that major note, I left the mission and logged out of the game.

***

Despite my haste, I really had been playing for quite a while. The sun was starting to dip behind the horizon, and the fact that Friday wasn’t a full work day (it was very much a full day at the office, though Vika had independently decided that she deserved to get off early) meant I didn’t have much time.

Zimin had kept his word, sending me a huge file with descriptions of dachas outside the city. I was supposed to pick one of them. After reading five of the descriptions, I swallowed hard.

I’d assumed they would be half-acre plots covered in weeds and maybe a few trees, possibly in the middle of the forest. Vika and I, I thought, would be spending the next few years dumping energy and time into it. But no, Raidion had fooled me yet again.

They were as large as an acre and a half, and they all had sturdy houses already built on them—some brick, others wooden. Gas, water, electricity, finished interiors, and all the rest came included. Some even had furniture, at least, judging by what I could see. Some pictures showed saunas outside the houses. How much money do they spend on upkeep?

I coughed, my breath caught in my throat and my fingers drumming on the table. It was too much. Okay, so the car was all right; fine, I was making good money. But a house like that, and on a good chunk of land… It was more a chunk of pork in an enormous deadfall than the cheese in a mousetrap.

Just then my phone rang. It was Zimin. “Good evening, Kif,” he greeted me as cheerily as ever. “Well, have you picked where you’re going to be resting from your righteous labor?”

That’s an odd way of putting it…

“That’s what I’m sitting here thinking about. Isn’t it a bit much? It’s just…a lot.”

“A lot? You really aren’t used to the good life, Kif.”

“I grew up on a fifth of an acre, and that was plenty for me. It was a lot, even, and especially when it came time to plant and then harvest potatoes,” I replied self-deprecatingly.

“That’s okay, good things are easy to get used to,” Zimin replied confidently. “You don’t have to plant potatoes; you can just relax. That’s what the house is for. So just go for it. Like I said, my rule is to make sure my people have everything they need. At least, as long as they belong to me soul and body.”

“Sure, I’ve told you that’s fine. But still… What am I going to do with all that land, not to mention the huge house? It’s probably a good 2,000 square feet. How much are the taxes alone?”

“Let’s start by remembering that you aren’t a lone wolf anymore. You have a woman, and maybe even some kids soon,” Zimin noted reasonably. “As far as the money goes, the company pays for it all, so you don’t have to worry about it. You really are lazy, Kif. We have nobodies who start working for us and immediately jump in with their demands: a corporate phone number, medical insurance, apartment payments…and they get it! We don’t skimp on stuff like that because it doesn’t make sense for us. People are governed by fear, and they’re afraid of losing their jobs as well as all the benefits they’re accustomed to. That’s when they work hard to make sure they stay on. Some, sure, forget their fear, but that’s something different. And you’re not even interested to hear what you can get. Your benefits package is almost as good as what we offer the corporation’s junior partners, and all the information is still over there with Eliza. She’s been taking bets to see if you’ll ever pick it up.”

“I didn’t even know it existed,” I muttered. “Nobody told me. Eliza didn’t say anything twice, and I’m afraid of her as it is.”

“She makes me a little nervous, too, although she’s not a bad woman at all. Though if you only knew her father…” Zimin snorted. “About the benefits, you can remember I told you since that’s actually what happened.”

He bet on me again, that sly dog!

“Okay, good luck tomorrow. We’re all going to have an interesting night.”

“Having a show again?” I asked knowingly.

“You bet,” Zimin said with a laugh. “We haven’t had anything like this in a while, so it’ll be fun to watch. I mean, we haven’t had a coup in a while.”

And here I thought it was a popular quest. “I guess it’s really well hidden if people do it that rarely?” I asked.

“No, it’s pretty easy to get. I mean, for being a hidden quest. It just isn’t that popular,” Zimin explained. “You don’t get much experience, and the goodies aren’t great either. I think that’s more the reason.”

“And if it’s a success, Anna will be the queen from now on?”

“Yep, until someone else gets the quest and completes it successfully. Oh, and another thing, are you going to go finish up the dryad quest right away?”

“What’s the point of waiting? Plus, I have the new kids showing up on Monday, and that comes with a new quest. ‘Find the odd man out,’ it’s called.”

“Yes, that’s important. Well, just pick yourself a dacha.” Zimin coughed. “I’d go with Minka. It’s great there, the forest is nice, and just the whole thing… Anyway, good luck!”

I looked through more of the information, scratched my head, went online, and decided that Zimin’s suggestion was a good one. The houses there were smart-looking, and the town seemed nice. I picked the five options I liked the most, waited for Vika to get home, and flexed all the eloquence I had in an effort to make sure we headed in that direction. Vika’s head was full of all kinds of nonsense about Rublevka, needless to say. Finally, I went for a shot below the waist—I showed her the prices at the stores in Rublevka, and my smart girl made the right choice.

***

There wasn’t much to say about the trip. Six hours into it, we’d stopped at plenty of villages and homeowner associations, and I finally heard the magic phrase. “Kif, you know, that first one was the best. Let’s go back and see it one more time, okay?” I mentally wiped the hard-earned sweat off my brow.

The house really was nice, made of wood, and it had a fireplace, furnishings, and even a satellite antenna. A sauna, pool, and gazebo were all included.

The inner doubt still gnawed at me, telling me how easily everything was coming and how it was all too good to be true. I’d been around long enough to know that sooner or later, I’d have to pay for every piece of wood that had gone into making that house, but I was in too far to turn around. There was also Vika’s tranquil and happy face that kept looking back at me as she ran around the property. I sighed.

Screw it. I’m in too deep as it is; I’ve taken too much from them to back out now.

That actually made me feel better. I certainly wasn’t planning on anything too idiotic anyway, nothing like biting the hand that fed me.

On Sunday, I called Zimin again to tell him that I’d made my choice. He told me it was a good one, and I sent the information and copies of my documents to an email address he gave me.

As the clock ticked close to zero hour, I started going a little crazy, which surprised me—that wasn’t the way I normally reacted to things.

Even Vika noticed. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting strange today.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s just that we have an interesting raid in the game tonight,” I explained.

“Tonight?” Her lips pursed. “You’ve never played at night before!”

“It just happened this way; nothing I can do it. A nighttime quest, you know?”

“Our nighttime quests are better than the ones in the game,” Vika purred capriciously. “And they’re more fun. Tomorrow’s going to be a tricky day, too. You didn’t forget that we have new people coming, did you?”

“As if I could forget that. Fresh meat is always fun.”

“I saw their resumes,” Vika said, suddenly very serious. “They’re not like us, I mean, like me and the boys. They already have experience, some work under their belts—one of them a year and a half even. Do you think they’ll try to push their weight around?”

Ha! My little kitten was starting to worry about her place in the sun.

“If they want to get kicked out the door their first day on the job, they’re welcome to try,” I replied calmly. “Though I don’t think they will. Where’d you get their resumes?”

“I called Raidion’s HR department and said that you wanted to see them, so they sent them over.” Vika smiled, expecting a pat on the back for her ingenuity.

Uh oh, she’s already using my name. Look at you…

“Hey, let’s talk about this tomorrow,” I said. “My mind’s somewhere else, to be honest.”

***

At half past eleven, I logged into the game. The two armored giants were still on the porch. Okay, to be fair, they could have been two different armored giants for all I knew. I waved at them and opened a portal.

Chapter Twenty-Four

In which things finally make it to the palace.

Night hung low over Fayroll. The sky was dark, immeasurable and full of stars, the large moon a shining yellow orb. From time to time, one or another of those stars would streak by overhead, leaving behind a fiery tail. And it was completely quiet.

Thanks to that quiet, I heard somebody sneaking up behind me in Princess Anna’s courtyard a minute after I jumped out of the portal. I spun around, saw Reggie in the moonlight, and couldn’t help but notice the battle axe in his hand.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I said, holding my hands up. “It’s me, Hagen. I was here the other day with Vaylerius and a couple of his monkeys.”

“Oh, it’s you,” the hunchback replied. “From Tronje, I remember you.”

“Thank heavens I heard you,” I said, exhaling. “Otherwise, I’d be lying here with your axe in my back.”

“Probably so,” Reggie assured me. “I can definitely do that to people.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

I really didn’t, as I’ve known people like him. They can put us healthy people in the grave any day of the week. Their bodies don’t look like much, but they’re as strong as an ox and as fast as a monkey.

“Mistress is expecting you.” The hunchback gestured me toward the entrance.

The princess was ready for what promised to be an exciting night that would leave her either sitting on the throne or at the bottom of a pond sewn up in a bag. She was wearing an expensive cloak, and there was a small bag on the table that clearly contained everything she needed—from powder to poison.

“Good evening, fair queen,” I said with a bow. “Are you ready to take what is yours?”

“And a good evening to you, too, Thane,” the princess said, understanding my hint and deliberately avoiding correcting me. Instead, she played along.

So you have some nerves going on after all. Anyone else would have shushed me, telling me not to jinx things. She can’t wait to get up on that throne.

“I’ve been ready for many years now, though the time has never been right,” the princess said with a mirthless laugh.

“Well, here you go!” I clapped. “Shall we head out? Your subjects await.”

“That’s what’s funny about the whole thing: Vitold is the only one that will be my subject, and he’s from the house of Hashim,” the princess giggled. “Yur is a Templar, you’re from Tronje, wherever that is, and my son’s crazy friends are from everywhere and nowhere. Then we have the mercenaries from the Borderlands. So what was that about my subjects?”

“They’ll all be your subjects once you’re queen, at least, besides the Templars. Who wouldn’t want a friend on the throne?”

“What about you?” Anna looked me in the eye.

“Me, too,” I replied, holding her gaze firmly. “Why now?”

“I’ll remember you said that,” Anna said, threatening me with a finger. “You’re a smart guy, and no coward. I need people like that from the very beginning.”

Yup, of course you do. “From the very beginning.” That’s always how it is. At the beginning, whoever helps the new rulers to power are very much needed—they’re the foundation, the ones who know what the whole thing was for. They’re afraid of spilling neither their own nor others’ blood, and they have pity for no one.

Several years go by, however, and the scene starts to populate with people who were hiding in their basements or at their dachas when everything went down. But they’re the ones who make their way into leadership roles within the new government. They may not be able to shoot or cut, and they don’t know their attacks or maneuvers, but none of that matters. What they can do is figure out who is saying what when, not to mention discerning the king’s mood by a twitch of his nose.

Meanwhile, the warriors who held the throne on their shoulders and bathed it in their blood are inarticulate and unaccustomed to bending the knee. Or, rather, they don’t know how to bend the knee. But they do get in the way of the courtiers and the monarch himself, so one is sent to the scaffold as a conspirator, another is exiled to the mines as a traitor, and the third takes a sip of wine that leaves him convulsing on the rug in a pool of his own spittle. Journalists know these things. But the more you know…

“Of course, my queen. I’m with you to the end.”

“Then let’s go.” Anna grabbed her bag, brushed away my attempt to help her, and rushed lightly down the stairs. I followed behind her.

“Mistress,” the hunchback said when we got out onto the porch, “what about me? Am I coming with you?”

“Reggie, you stay here.” Anna’s brows furrowed. “You already know that. I explained the whole thing already.”

“Mistress!” His face fell.

“Reggie!” Anna tapped her foot and jabbed me in the side. “Hagen, go ahead.”

I opened the portal and stepped in, the hunchback’s cry following us though.

“Mistre-e-ess!”

“So clingy,” Anna said with a snort. “Like some kind of burr!”

“On the other hand, he’s devoted, and that’s important,” I objected. “Like a dog.”

The princess didn’t reply.

***

“Who are you? Where are you going? Who do you need to see?” the giant on the mission steps hooted owlishly.

“The fair Princess Anna and Laird Hagen here to see Brother Yur,” I rapped out, not nearly as surprised as the princess when the knight battered the door with his fist. Although… How is it still in one piece?

Brother Mikhael appeared almost instantly on the porch.

“Princess, and you, Laird, come in. They’re expecting you.”

Stepping in behind Anna, I heard her hiss through her teeth, they’re expecting us, and they can’t even be bothered to get their asses out of their chairs. I could tell the whole thing was going to be tricky and hoped I’d be somewhere far away when the rickety structure came crashing down.

“We were w-worried,” Brother Yur said in greeting. “We s-started to think something happened.”

“Good evening,” Vitold added.

I had the feeling the two wise crows hadn’t left their spots since I’d last seen them there two days before.

Brother Yur got up from his chair and bowed his head to the princess. Vitold followed suit.

You completed a quest: Deliver Whole and Unscathed

Reward:

1500 experience

“Yur, it’s good to see you,” Princess Anna replied, so warmly that I glanced at her in surprise. “Look how gray you are! What happened?”

“The sun isn’t as h-high in the sky as it used to be,” Brother Yur replied, more poetically than I was used to from him. “You kn-know how it goes, fair Princess.”

“And you still have that stutter?” The princess placed her hand on his shoulder. “I hope you don’t curse me for what happened?”

“It j-just added w-weight and i-importance to my voice,” Yur said with a laugh. “Everyone’s a-afraid of me even more with my impediment, and they l-listen much more carefully.”

The princess chuckled sadly.

“Good evening once again, Princess Anna,” Vitold said, reminding her of his presence.

“Good evening, Master Vitold.” There was a chill in the princess’s voice. Okay, who am I kidding? It was ice. It sure sounded like the three had known each other for quite a while, and they had very different relationships. I had to wonder what their story was.

“N-now that we’re all here, it’s t-time to get started.” Brother Yur rubbed his hands, clearly happy to get back to his world of figures and agreements. “Before w-we start anything that w-we have p-planned, you and I need to s-sign a contract, Anna.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” the princess replied sarcastically. “If it weren’t for that, you’d be—”

“Shh,” Brother Yur interrupted with a finger on his lips. “You’ll ruin this poor fellow. He probably doesn’t know the kind of word you were about to say. By the way, my young friend, h-have you c-come to an a-agreement with the princess regarding what y-your interest is?”

“Well, we talked about it…” For some reason, I felt like an idiot, and the fact that both of the old deal-makers bent over with laughter told me I was right on the money.

“He talked about it!” Vitold wiped tears from his eyes. “With Anna!”

“Hagen, d-don’t be offended, but v-verbal agreements in cases like these a-aren’t worth any more than the d-dagger you get between th-the r-ribs to keep you from talking,” Yur said conciliatorily. “P-paper is all you can believe since w-words are just that—immaterial, traceless v-vibrations in the air. But a d-document that sh-shows what you have a right to, i-is signed by witnesses, and is s-stored, preferably, somewhere dry, d-dark, cool, and, most importantly, s-secret…that’s your guarantee that you’ll g-get what you were promised. And if we’re t-talking about royalty, then y-you shouldn’t be taking a-a s-single step until y-you have something down on paper.”

Anna smiled, and I realized how close I’d come to disaster. She wouldn’t have done it out of greed; more just to make sure I was on my toes. Wow…

“Okay, Vitold, l-let’s add our y-young friend to the contract scroll first, since h-he needs much less than we do. Sound good?”

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Vitold replied. “Go ahead: ‘Hagen, free laird of Tronje, shall be given the chalice made by the mountain masters during the First War of the Skeletons, which is located in the treasury of the Western Crown under inventory number XPE-143322.’ Good?”

It hit me that I could have held out for a lot more, but I decided to play it safe. “Yep, that’s fine,” I replied, holding up my arms. “I just need to get it as soon as possible, before you all start handing out gifts. There are some responsibilities I have, and they do happen to be written down on paper.”

“Ah-ha!” Brother Yur wagged a hand holding a goose quill at me. “You’re o-obviously working with a smart, e-experienced businessman. Learn a l-lesson, young man, and y-you’ll be fine.”

“Write in a title for him, as well. I’m going to make him a thane, and maybe even put him in charge of the guards,” Anna said suddenly.

The two dealmakers exchanged glances and then looked at me sympathetically, with Yur breaking the silence.

“My f-friend, you’re d-done here, right? Don’t worry, w-we’ll get everything written down. In the meantime, h-head out into the courtyard—our people are out there, and I think we’ll m-move out in half an hour.”

You unlocked Overthrow

This is the fifth in the All Hail the King! series of hidden quests.

Task: Participate in the palace coup.

Additional task: Do not die during the course of the quest. If you do, it will be considered a failure.

Reward:

2000 experience

Valuable trophy

Accept?

The old treasurers knew better than me, so I figured my job was done and walked out. A couple dozen knights of the temple were clanging around in their armor when I got to the courtyard. Adalard was quietly driving some point home to them, and they were all tightening belts and otherwise doing their best to look the part of rough, experienced warriors. Not all of them were successful, as it looked like Aegan was where the order’s newest recruits worked off their rough edges. That made sense, of course; it wasn’t the North, and nothing really happened in the city. Most of the knights there had probably never been in a real fight before.

“Oh, Laird Hagen,” said von Ditmar, who was happy to see me. “I’m glad you’re here. You’d have a hard time storming a hen house with this lot, not to mention knocking Federik off the throne. What a sight!”

“Oh, come on, Adalard, we were all like them once,” I replied in an attempt to stand up for the order’s youngest generation. “Most important is for them to live through their first battle—everything else will come with time.”

Von Ditmar clapped me on the shoulder, gave me a knowing look, and went back to getting everyone in line.

“Laird! I’d like to thank you for introducing me to Tren-Bren.” Von Ostin came over, and he had a child-like grin on his ruddy face. “She graciously agreed to be the lady of my heart, and we even went for a walk in the wood outside the city. Her soul is so beautiful—you have no idea! We spent half the day today killing evil wolves that were hurting the little bunnies. She’s a saint! She has such a big, compassionate heart.”

How many levels did you pick up today, little fairy? From what I could remember, wolves were tough to take out, and pretty high-level. Nice work!

“Don’t mention it, Herbert,” I replied with a wink. “Good luck to you both!”

***

Half an hour later, everyone was starting to get antsy. The younger knights were bored, and the few veterans (Adalard especially) looked to be hankering for a drink. It was late for them, and they were used to being drunk or even happily snoring at that time. But no, there they were standing on the street, completely sober, and it was starting to get cold…

Just then the leaders of our plot walked out onto the porch. Anna was somewhat sullen, I thought, her face contrasting the happy smiles Vitold and Brother Yur sported behind her. It looked like they’d gotten what they wanted and maybe a good bit more. I couldn’t help envying them.

They were flanked by four novices in hooded robes identical to the one Brother Mikhael was wearing, and I assumed they were the treasurer’s personal guard. I was starting to realize why Gunther was so nervous about Brother Yur. Have one scroll go missing, and you’re toast.

“Okay, listen up,” Vitold called out, clapping his hands. “We’re going to head over to the courtyard of a building next to the palace, and you’ll get your final instructions there. Remember, everything from here on out needs to happen quietly—very quietly. No noises, no shouting, no iron clanging. We need to make sure nobody notices us until it’s too late.”

Brother Yur stepped down from the porch and came over to me. “S-surprised about something?” he asked, glancing at my face.

“That’s not the half of it,” I replied. “My whole life, I thought coups were all about fires, fights, duels, assaults…”

“…bloody d-drama, dark prophecies,” Brother Yur continued. “You j-just get those in the songs the m-minstrels sing and traveling performances. In reality, coups that are noisy, with a b-big r-racket, those are the o-ones doomed to fail. Ideally, you want your s-subjects to simply wake up in the morning and find th-that they have a new king or queen. Making a huge sensation is unnecessary and h-harmful. And th-that’s why I hope e-everything will be fast, quiet, and easy. Count Gaynor i-is still out there though…”

“Who is that?” I asked. That wasn’t the first time I’d heard the name.

“The o-only sensible p-person in Federik’s circle,” Brother Yur replied, his voice a bit lowered. “Vitold d-doesn’t count since he doesn’t serve anyone b-besides himself. But C-count Gaynor…he’s a f-faithful servant of the king. Federik h-has him in charge of his security, and he was a g-good pick for the j-job. It would be great to have him on our side, but you c-can’t buy his type. Vitold t-tried to play on some old stories th-they have, but it doesn’t work. And n-now he knows what’s c-coming.”

I nodded. “And he’ll be expecting us.”

“If th-they’d listened to me, they’d have knocked him quietly over the head a-and we’d be out of the woods.” Brother Yur tightened his robe. “What a-are you frowning for? This is politics, n-not worth worrying over.”

“Let’s go, since everyone’s all clear.” Vitold waved a hand, and the blue circle of a portal appeared near the porch.

***

Where we found ourselves really wasn’t the courtyard Vitold had said it was. In fact, it was more of a field or meadow. I had no idea how there could be an area with that much space right next to the palace.

“Wondering about how big it is?” Vitold came over to me noiselessly. “It’s a stable yard; everyone knows that Aegan has the biggest horse fair in Rattermark. There aren’t many horses out there, and they’re expensive, so breeders can afford big chunks of land this close to the king’s palace. Right on the other side is a backdoor entrance. A friend of mine owns the yard, and he let us use it tonight for a steep price.”

I’ll bet you’re the owner yourself. Sure, he probably had some seller with a beer belly and a beard as his placeholder, but it had to be his. When am I going to get back to simple, easy quests? All I wanted was to just have to go kill something…

There were more than a hundred people sitting, walking, and even sleeping all over the area, and they came in all stripes. Bran’s people were in leather armor and had claymores strapped to their backs. (It didn’t look like he had the gift he’d promised, though he did have a good fifty warriors.) Danoot’s outfit was colorful and bedraggled. There were fifteen or so of Vitold’s men dressed in clerk’s robes acting like professional killers, and of course, Adalard’s knights.

“O-okay, Princess, Bran, Hagen, and y-you, young man.” Danoot pointed a finger at his chest inquisitively. “Yes, yes, y-you. All of you, come o-over here.”

We formed up into a semi-circle around Yur, who looked over the group.

“And n-now listen carefully and remember what I s-say. Questions afterward.”

The plan Brother Yur had developed was simple and straightforward. I caught myself wondering if all the palace coups Dumas and Walter Scott had written about had actually happened the way they’d described. Could it have all been artistic license, just a way to make the whole thing more intriguing? On the other hand, the game’s developers were Russian, and everything in our history really has been straightforward: the poet’s scarf, a snuff-box to the temple, a fork in the throat, a bomb underfoot, and voilà. There was the one time where Peter had marched on the monastery with his regiments, but that was just because he had an inflated opinion of himself…

Anyway, back to the action, everything was set up; we were going to move through the enormous palace garden, get in through a back entrance, and from there, attack the palace. The servants were bought and paid for, so there wouldn’t be anybody telling us to halt and asking us who we were.

The garden guards were either dead already or about to kick the bucket thanks to some wine a cute kitchen maid brought them. Once inside, one detachment—Bran’s people—would take the central wing, polishing off the guards and taking control of the central hall with its palace entrance. Their orders were to make sure nobody got in or out. Everyone else was supposed to make their way to the ceremonial hall, which was next to the king’s quarters, and from there, it was easy. We’d take out the rest of his guards, force him to abdicate in favor of Anna, and let the head of the Academy of Wisdom confirm that she had the requisite proof of her right to the throne. All hail the queen!

Danoot’s troops would be responsible for explaining to the simple peasants what had happened that night, seeing as how those were their people. They were all children of working families. All of them were given slogans like Queen Anna is our everything and New heights under Queen Anna’s banner, and they weren’t released until they could repeat them back. There was no worrying about the merchant and other classes; traders would get lower taxes, dignitaries would get the chance to keep their heads. There were a few exceptions of course, as Anna did need to settle some old scores. It was simple, clean, and elegant. And it sounded very doable.

“Everything c-clear?”

“Not to me.” Danoot glowered at us. “So we’re not going into the palace? What? You think we’re illegitimate bastards or too ugly to be in there? We want to be involved, too, and, if we’re lucky, we want to kill the king.”

Anna and Brother Yur glanced at each other.

“Well, we can’t take all of you, since we need some left to talk to the people,” Vitold said with a charming smile. “But you, for example, and that curly-haired fellow with the pipe are welcome to come.”

Danoot nodded contentedly, though he wasn’t done. “Xant and Vaylerius are coming, too. They need the experience.”

Vitold looked over at Anna, and she thought for a couple seconds before nodding. Danoot went off to tell his friends, and we heard Yasmuga’s response wafting back to us.

“That’s a good decision. Theory without practice is dead; theory supported by practice can move mountains.”

“Exactly what we need,” Vitold said quietly, glancing at Anna and Brother Yur. He then headed toward Danoot, apparently with further instructions. Garibaldis like that were liable to just up and rush in ahead. We needed a different approach.

Our group walked out of the horse-yard gate and quickly crossed a small square, coming face-to-face with a large, carved door that creaked quietly open.

“Everything good?” Vitold asked two men in livery.

“The guards are dead, the doors are secured,” one of them replied quickly.

“Where i-is Gaynor?” Yur asked anxiously.

“Nobody knows.” The man shrugged. “We haven’t seen him since earlier this evening.”

“Ah, I don’t l-like that,” Yur said, shaking his head. “I don’t like th-that at all…”

“Oh, come on,” Bran replied with a roll of his eyes. “We’re going to kill them all, so what’s Gaynor going to do? He can’t find a hundred and fifty blades in the city; there are just fifty guards in the palace; and everyone else is out on maneuvers with the generals. It’s perfect. My men are each worth three guards, and those moneymen over there look like they know a thing or two. Adalard has his Knight Templars, though they’re pulling all that dead weight around with them. Anyway, we’ll be fine, Master Yur.”

The assault group had gotten through to the palace door by the time he finished talking, and they poured in through it. The picture was a scary one: night, the dark walls of the palace, the palace itself looming over us, the gloomy garden, and the silent warriors marching in to kill their unsuspecting victims.

I was one of the last to walk in. Lamps burned on the walls, which made me feel better. I don’t like the dark. It isn’t that I’m afraid of it; I just don’t like it or feel comfortable in it.

We walked through halls, up and down stairs, down corridors, and through more halls. The palace was a big one, and I got the feeling that it was bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside.

“Okay, we’re headed for the central entrance,” Bran said at a point where some stairs branched off.

“Do you know where to go?” Vitold had lost his joviality along the way; he was dry and to the point.

“Of course,” Bran replied with a crooked grin. “We memorized a map of the castle…you know, for interest’s sake.”

He and his people marched quickly down the stairs.

“Anna, you’ll have to replace the staff completely,” Vitold said to the princess, who was as tight as a bowstring.

“Obviously,” she replied, “though that’s all later. If we get to ‘later,’ of course.”

“We’re g-going to find out soon,” Brother Yur noted calmly. “There’s th-the ceremonial h-hall. Danoot, my d-dear, go ahead and open the d-doors. That will be nice and s-symbolic f-for you.”

Danoot smirked, walked over to the large gold doors, and shoved them open. We walked into an enormous hall that was even bigger than Fomor’s hall in the Ice Wall. It was rectangular, and on one end of it, there was a large throne set on a pedestal. Across from the doors we had walked through was another set, which I found strange. The room is a rectangle, so why have two entrances on the sides when you could have just one directly opposite the throne?

We heard the sound of rushing feet and clanging metal, and the doors on the other side of the hall swung open. About seventy guards rushed in behind a black-haired man wearing dark armor. He was wielding a sword with a wavy blade.

“And th-there’s Gaynor,” I heard Brother Yur say quietly.

“Not quite in time!” Gaynor announced to us.

“Gentlemen, what’s going on here?” Everyone in the room was stunned to hear Federik’s voice, and we all turned to see him standing by the throne wearing a nightshirt and nightcap. There was a candle burning in his hand.

Chapter Twenty-Five

In which the hero realizes that palace intrigues aren’t his cup of tea.

“B-block off Federik!” Brother Yur ordered sharply, and his group threw off their cloaks, revealing glistening steel armor and bastard swords in their belts. They dashed toward the throne, and Federik froze, with no idea what was happening.

“Protect the king!” Gaynor barked a second later, and he took off in that direction with three of his men. “Run, Your Majesty, run! Save yourself!”

But the king was either stupid or having a hard time believing what was going on. One way or another, he didn’t go anywhere. The rest of the guards didn’t join the battle either, instead watching in spellbound silence as everything played out in front of them.

Gaynor’s and Yur’s troops met halfway to the throne. Swords clashed, and everyone else in the hall tensed.

“What are you waiting for?” Vitold asked angrily. “Go kill the rest of them!”

“Wait, Vitold,” Yur cut in, paying no mind to the swordplay going on. “G-guards, if you don’t w-want to die, you are welcome to s-simply bow the knee to Anna, your n-new q-queen. If you do, you will walk a-away, free to live out the rest of your life in p-peace. Your rights w-will be upheld, and your pay will s-stay the same.”

“Don’t listen to him!” cried one of the guards. “They’re rebels, and they’ll be dead by the end of the day. Kill them unless you want to die with them!”

If any of the guards were thinking about switching sides, that order put a stop to the idea.

“You kn-know what always amazes me about p-people? How anxious they are to die,” Brother Yur replied, chiding the guards. “But w-we all choose o-our own fate.”

The two groups started toward each other, then picked up speed until swords met shields, wood cracked, blades rasped, and the cries of the dying rang out. It wasn’t a battlefield with all its space for maneuvers and dashing duels; it was just a room, if a large and empty one. Everything was set up to receive guests and organize balls, and it certainly wasn’t the best spot for a fight between hundreds of warriors. Gaynor and the accountants took up quite a bit of space as well. For some reason, neither we nor the guards got involved in their skirmish. While Gaynor had already lost two of his three men, there were only two of Brother Yur’s accountants left. The four were evenly matched.

I stood in the second and final row, one which was about to become the first. The only people behind me were Anna; the four insurgents, who realized there was nothing for them to do in the slaughter taking place; both financiers; and a few of Vitold’s clerks there to cover their boss and the rest of the group. Warriors on both sides of the conflict were cut down and collapsed on the floor, making the going harder for everyone else.

“Knights, form up and push the right flank!” Adalard yelled, realizing the battle was about to turn into a melee that would serve only to eat up human resources and time. I wasn’t sure which of those was more important for us.

The group of Knights Templar, unfortunately, had already thinned, and they weren’t quite in time to form up and present the palace guard with a united front. Still, they attracted attention away from the rest of our group, and we were able to mostly build a wall of shields between us and the guards. That left them under attack from both sides.

“Hit the left flank, damn it!” we heard Adalard shout. “We can’t hold out!”

Our blood boiling, we threw ourselves at the remnants of the left flank, driving them backward with our bodies. A clerk from the Academy of Wisdom dropped next to me with a croak, and I drove my sword into the throat his killer had left open when he jumped in to attack. There was none of the elegance or finer points one might expect from a duel; there you got one or two shots in and watched the bodies hitting the ground around you.

I fought off a few blows and let a few others through, and, though they were critical, my health only dipped lower. A short guard froze when my sword pierced his ribcage, and…

…and then I noticed that the battle was just about over. There were only ten guards still on their feet, and not many more of us—fifteen, perhaps. We stood across from each other covered in blood (which wasn’t supposed to be there…), breathing hard, and staring at each other with hatred in our eyes. A knight moved at the feet of the guards. He looked to be deafened, and his helmet had flown off his head, but he was alive. He lifted his head slowly; it was von Ostin. A guard next to him snorted, thrust his sword downward through von Ostin’s body and armor, and pinned him to the floor like a butterfly. That’s a shame, young knight. You barely got any time with the fairy.

“What are you waiting for?” Gaynor called out in a hoarse voice. “Finish them!”

“You got it,” I grunted, infuriated by the loss of von Ostin, and jumped forward. The rest of our remainder followed me in. Swords again clashed, armor buckled and broke under my attack, something warm and pungent splashed over my face and into my eyes (that was taking things a bit too far), and someone next to me bellowed in pain.

I jumped backward, held my sword at the ready in front of me, and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. The battle was almost done. All that was left in the hall, which was covered in bodies, were the ones who had stayed out of the battle, me, two other warriors, and Gaynor. He was wounded and bathed in blood. The last of Yur’s guard fell at his hand, though it was clear that he was barely hanging on. He collapsed onto one knee, leaned on his sword’s wavy blade, and tried to get back up.

“Finish him,” Vitold said laconically, glancing quickly at Brother Yur as he gave the order. Gaynor looked at him with a sneer on his face.

Vitold’s people didn’t move, and neither did the guerrillas. I glanced at Brother Yur in confusion, though he looked away.

“Warriors, was I not clear? Finish him!” Vitold more squealed than yelled.

I made a show of pulling a rag out of my pocket and wiping down my sword. There was no way I was turning into a butcher for some treasurer, even if he was close to the crown.

The only two warriors left were Vitold’s men, as the Knights of the Temple apparently hadn’t been as well-prepared for the type of battle we’d just been through—they and the old drunk Adalard were dead to a man. The warriors glanced at each other, ran over to Gaynor, and swung their swords at him. The brave knight was able to block the first blow, though the second slashed into his back. The rest was simple.

It was a horrible sight. The hall was littered with bodies left resting in awkward poses, the whole spectacle was covered in blood, and silence reigned. The coup’s masterminds were quiet over by the entrance, Federik had frozen into a mute pillar of salt with the candle in his hand, and, for convenience or beauty, torches along the walls were burning that hadn’t been at the beginning. Or maybe they just make it easier to see the whole thing on the big screen? For effect…

“What d-did you think would happen, y-young man?” Brother Yur asked calmly. “Th-this is what happens during coups. And it’s why I-I planned it all this way. No popular u-uprisings, a-as few casualties as possible, and a-as little b-bloodshed as we could manage. But these warriors…there’s n-no getting around it.”

“But Gaynor, he’s…” I muttered. I didn’t know him, though he’d caught my fancy right from the get-go as someone who was clearly just and honorable.

“He’s the kind of person who would never give up or betray his king, even if that king is a worthless bag,” Vitold explained. “If we’d let him keep his life, we would have had to deal with a guerilla war and a constant threat to Queen Anna’s throne.”

I knew he was right, but still… It didn’t sit right with me.

“What do you mean, Queen Anna?” Federik called over, suddenly coming to his senses. “The whore who had her runt out of wedlock? She’s going to be taking my throne?”

“Hey, you’re talking about my mother!” Vaylerius said, frowning and shooting an unpleasant look at Federik.

“Hold on,” Vitold said to the mage, who was raising his staff. “We need him alive.”

Danoot and Yasmuga looked at each other.

“Federik, you’re getting your spittle on everything,” Anna said. “Yes, you figured it all out. You’re a worthless peacock and cynic, but you catch on fast when it comes to your own skin.”

“Conditions?” the king asked in a falsetto.

“What do you want?” Vitold squinted back.

“Money—a million gold—and a ticket out of here.” Federik shivered slightly.

“Of course,” Vitold rubbed his hands. “A million is overboard, but we’ll give you half a million. We’ll even take you to the border, though you have to abdicate the throne.”

One of the clerks walked over to the king holding some papers Anna had pulled out of her bag.

“She still won’t last long; she isn’t from a royal family,” Federik chuckled evilly. “I, at least, have a right to the throne. But her? Nothing!”

“That’s not your problem,” Anna replied. “Also, you know very well what blood flows through my veins.”

“Oh, and another thing.” The king took the quill offered to him without paying the least attention to what Anna was saying. “Before I sign this, I want an oath that nobody will harm me. From all of you.”

“An oath?” Vitold snorted. “What are we, children?”

“It’s better than nothing,” the former king snorted back. Well, the just-about-former king.

“Vaylerius and you, girl,” Vitold said softly, “go get the supreme sage from the Academy. He needs to witness to the legality of the abdication and ascension to the throne.”

“I haven’t been to the Academy in forever,” Vaylerius replied, dropping his gaze. “I don’t remember who’s where over there.”

“Drig will show you everything.” Vitold waved to one of his people. “Explain the political situation to the sage, and let him know how things are going to play out—how it will affect the rest of his life…or his death, if he balks.”

“Will he listen to me?” the young mage asked dubiously.

“Of course, he will,” Vitold assured him. “I’ve already had a chat with him, and the old rascal picked up on the hints I was giving him. We all remember your mom, too, and his memory works a lot better than he looks. He gives kids a run for their money.”

A portal flashed, and Vaylerius and Xantria walked through it.

“Well, d-done writing?” Yur studied Federik. “Let’s go, n-no sense drawing this out.”

“Yes, yes, I’m done,” the king responded querulously, waving the parchment so the ink would dry faster. “I’m getting as far away from the West as I can. I’ll sit somewhere on the Crisna fishing and minding my own business, I think.”

Vitold snapped his fingers, and one of his clerks took the parchment from Federik and brought it over. Three heads immediately bent over it.

“Well, e-everything looks good,” Brother Yur said with a satisfied smile. “N-no questions from me. The supreme s-sage will be coming soon, and we’ll wrap things up so you can go f-fishing.”

“The oath. You forgot the oath,” Federik reminded him, tapping his leg on the foot of the throne nervously.

“Ah, right. I swear by the e-eternal heavens that I will not p-personally harm you, and will take no steps in the future s-such that someone else will.”

“And now the rest of you.” The king looked around at the group.

We all repeated after him, some of us taking it more seriously than others. Just as Anna was saying the words, a portal popped open to disgorge a gray-bearded old man wearing miniature glasses and leaning on a staff. He had a nightgown draped over him and shuffled along in house slippers.

“Oh, boy,” he said, noticing the carnage in the hall. “Does nobody have anything better to do than all this?”

“It isn’t us; it’s the times,” Vitold replied cynically. “We needed to quickly replace the king. Federik already wrote up his abdication papers, so all that’s left are the formalities.”

“Formalities?” the old man grated. “What basis does the princess have for her rule? That oaf at least had letters going back to the time of the White Prince confirming his birthright, and Anna has nothing. She can’t take the throne like that.”

“Hagen, go a-ahead,” Brother Yur said.

You sneaky, sneaky treasurer. He’d had the whole thing worked out from the beginning. But nobody knew it was his plan and execution. Who officially led the new queen to her place on the throne? A guy named Hagen. We were just over in the corner somewhere. And if another power shift happened, my head would be the one rolling or drowning. Only the queen would remember him the next day, when it came time to settle their accounts. Bravo…

“My queen, your symbol of power.” I pulled the White Prince Crown out of my bag and was surprised to see white and red sparks flashing dully around it. Doing my best to avoid stepping on the corpses, I walked over to Anna. “Take it and rule your kingdom justly and fairly.”

Anna took the crown in her hands, and a bright, crimson-and-white star glowed above it.

“An artifact from the prince himself!” the supreme sage gasped. “The crown that was lost!”

“Well, old man?” Anna asked threateningly, having, I thought, grown a little and become much more imperious. “Do I have a right to the throne?”

“I, supreme sage of the Academy of Wisdom Erasmus dar Fronbach, do solemnly witness that the throne of the Western Mark has been legally abdicated and just as legally occupied. May your days be endless, fair Queen Anna. Take the crown of the West from the hands of the former king.”

Something shuddered beneath the floor, and I thought I could smell something.

Queen Anna majestically stepped toward the thrown, Vitold winked at his men, and they quickly slipped the crown off Federik’s head and dropped it into his hands. A whisper in his ear was enough to ensure that he did what he was supposed to do.

Once Anna got to Federik, he shoved the coveted crown at her before loudly asking a question to the group. “There. Can I go?”

The only answer he got was a jab in the ribs that pushed him away from the throne.

Anna hoisted the crown onto her head, settled onto the throne, and smiled.

“There we go. I accept the crown of the West and swear to rule fairly, justly, and mercifully.”

“Hail to the queen!” roared Vitold.

“Hail!” resounded throughout the hall, with only Federik and the supreme sage holding their silence.

I had to doubt how merciful she would be. Heads are going to roll, mark my words.

“If that’s it, fair Queen, would you permit me to leave the palace?” Erasmus asked Anna. “I’m old and tired, and I want to go home.”

“Of course,” Anna nodded. “Son, take the honorable supreme sage back to where he lives and stay there with him until the morning. I’ll have something I need you to do at the Academy. Take your girlfriend with you as well; it’ll be good for her.”

Vaylerius pursed his lips unhappily, though he opened a portal and walked through it with Erasmus and Xantria.

“We’re good now?” Federik asked unhurriedly.

“Almost,” Anna said, nodding again. “How do I get to the treasury?”

“The passage is right there in the corner, right behind the throne. The crown will recognize you, so you can go in there whenever you want, and the door will close behind you,” Federik explained peevishly. “Nobody besides you can get in unless you officially appoint someone and give them the authority to go in.”

How simple. There’s the door, here’s the crown. Magic…

“Excellent,” Anna replied, rubbing her hands. “I think I’ll head in there and drop off the prince’s crown. It’s the kind of thing you want to always have under lock and key.”

She got up from the throne and walked over to the door leading to the treasury.

“Queen!” I yelled after her, “can you grab my chalice while you’re in there? You’ll be busy tomorrow, and I’m running out of time.”

Brother Yur shook his head, obviously not approving of the hurry I was in, while Vitold smiled.

“Okay, if I see it, I’ll bring it out,” she replied, turning back toward me. “But I’m not promising anything.”

“I don’t need a promise,” I replied sharply. “Don’t promise anything; just find it.”

“Well, Anna, don’t you have wonderful subjects,” Federik laughed. “You’ll go far with them!”

Anna turned around one more time, looked at Vitold, and nodded to him ever so slightly. His lips curled back into a snarl, and he waited until the door to the treasury had closed behind the queen before winking at Yasmuga. The latter quickly slipped a rawhide cord around the former king’s neck, crisscrossing it in the back. He pulled back on one end, leaving the other for Danoot.

“You gave me an oa-a-a…” Federik clawed at the cord, while Yasmuga bent him over. The king collapsed on the ground, his feet scrabbling against the floor, his tongue jutting out of his mouth.

“Oaths given to the ruling class are no oaths at all,” Yasmuga explained to Federik as he watched Federik’s eyes pop out. He bit down on his pipe and pulled harder at the cord.

“Are you going to die or not?” yelled Danoot.

Federik flopped around for another thirty seconds before giving up the ghost.

“Finally.” A satisfied Danoot got up and brushed off his knees. “That was the first time I ever got to kill a king.”

“And you really shouldn’t have started,” Vitold responded gently.

Danoot looked at him in confusion and grimaced sharply from an unexpected pain: one dagger slashed deep into his liver, while another slipped between his ribs. Vitold’s clerks knew what they were doing.

Two others gave Yasmuga the same treatment, though he was unusually tenacious and tried to defend himself even after he’d taken seven cuts from their daggers. It was all to no avail, however, and two more bodies were added to the carnage on the ground.

“Vitold, y-you don’t think it might have been b-better to k-kill them after they did wh-what we needed them to do? We s-still have to tell the people about the ch-change in power. You h-haven’t forgotten, have you?”

“I don’t want to draw things out, Yur. Those two knew how Federik actually died, and they might have blabbed to someone. You know what kind of people they were; that’s probably how it would have happened. Also, they found out that killing kings is just as easy as killing anyone else. They got a taste for royal blood. Why do we need people like that around? And if you’re thinking about their people, Vaylerius and his lover are still around, and they can do everything without these two.”

“Plus, that’s why we brought them in here with us,” Anna chimed in. “Their job is done, so what did we need them for? It’s just a shame we couldn’t kill that slob Xantria. My son likes her too much, so we can’t dump her in the same pit we throw these guys into. She’s pregnant, too, and that’s still an heir. Even if it is a bastard.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll have the child, feed it for six months, and then we’ll poison her. We’ll make sure nobody has any idea,” Vitold consoled her.

A barely visible grimace flitted across Yur’s face. It didn’t look like he was a fan of that type of conversation. “We n-need to have a good reason f-for why Federik died,” he said. “Something r-realistic.”

“Hemorrhoidal colic,” Vitold said quickly. “Sounds good; nobody knows what it means…”

“B-but that’s the problem; nobody kn-knows what it means.” Brother Yur frowned again. “The rabble n-need to understand that the king died of something u-understandable and c-common.”

“The clap?” I suggested.

“What’s that?” Vitold even scratched the back of his head.

I didn’t say anything, as I wasn’t exactly sure myself. Something simple people would know, that’s all…

“Okay, here,” the queen said. “He died from a lung disease he’s been suffering from for a while. One day he just up and died. Everyone will take that as they will, and if anyone has any questions, they’re welcome to come ask me. The executioner and I will be happy to explain. We’ll leave the body out for one day so the people can pay their respects, and then we’ll lock it up in a tomb somewhere.”

You completed a quest: Overthrow

Reward:

2000 experience

Valuable trophy

That just left finding the trophy. Maybe I’m supposed to go pick something myself?

You completed a set of hidden quests: All Hail the King!

Reward for completing the entire set:

8000 experience

4000 gold

Title: Pillar of the Western Throne

And then: ding!

You unlocked Level 60!

Points ready to be distributed: 5

“Anna, would you m-mind if our noble friend Hagen t-took Gaynor’s sword for himself?” Brother Yur asked suddenly, stopping next to the body once belonging to Federik’s chief of security. “To remember all th-this by.”

“He’s welcome to it,” the queen replied graciously, her voice slightly quivering. “That’s even better.”

“T-take it, my friend. It’s a g-good sword, and it belonged to a g-good warrior. Sometimes enemies are vile and c-cowardly; sometimes they’re good.” Brother Yur bent over and picked up the sword, which had a gilded hilt besides the wavy blade, and held it out to me.

“Okay,” the queen said, straightening up and looking at me. “Now that we’re talking about rewards, I’m happy to give you, Thane Hagen of the Western Mark, your well-earned trophy. That title will be yours by right as soon as I give the decree tomorrow. As far as your other rewards, come and take them.”

I went over to the throne and saw that Anna was holding a filthy old chalice with something rolling around in the bottom of it.

You completed a quest: Chalice of Memory

You found the Chalice of Memory.

To get your reward, talk to Idrissa the South.

I looked inside it to see two rings.

“Are they for me, too?” I asked cautiously.

“They are,” she nodded. “How could I give one of the heroes of my coronation—a hero whose blade and good will made me queen—just this old chalice? That would have been an unworthy beginning for my reign. Take the two rings.”

“My Queen,” Bran said, walking into the hall. “Did I miss something? It’s just that about a hundred guards tried to break into the palace…”

“And?” The queen’s brow curved inquisitively.

“They won’t be breaking in anywhere else.” Bran flashed a white-toothed smile, and the queen gave him a look laden with more than one meaning.

Ah, I realized happily, now she has someone to take control of her guards, so I’d better get out of here. It was a fantastic opportunity for a role player, and they would have been overjoyed at the whole thing: the plot, knocking off the king, taking control of the palace guard… But it wasn’t for me.

“Your majesty,” I started, coughing into my fist.

She stopped contemplating Bran and glanced over at me.

“Do you mind if I run off for a bit to take care of the chalice?” I waved the artifact. “I’ll be back later.”

“Of course not.” The queen waved back, gesturing for me to leave.

“See you soon, H-Hagen,” Brother Yur said, coming over and starting in a low voice, “Y-you’re making a good decision. Stay away from Aegan f-for the n-next year or two. I would be h-happy to see you a-at the order’s castle in Leeba.”

“I’ll stop by if I have the chance,” I promised. “If I happen to be in that area.”

I opened a portal and headed straight to Eiliana the West’s grove. I wasn’t sure if my friends from all the different clans were following me, though I didn’t care. Not even a little bit. The whole adventure was supposed to end right there—or at least the part of it I’d been working on.

Still, before I headed into the grove, I looked around. With nobody in sight, I pulled Gaynor’s sword out of my bag.

Four-in-One Sword

This one-handed sword once belonged to four generations of heroes, passed down from one to the other.

Damage: 295-380

+34 to strength

+20% chance of doing critical damage

+14% chance of successfully counter-attacking

+14% chance of disarming your opponent

+7% chance that abilities used in battle will recharge instantly

Class limitation: warrior

Durability: 533/700

Minimum level for use: 65

It wasn’t a bad sword at all, and at least as good as the one I was using. Five levels later, I’d be able to think about upgrading to it. And what about those rings?

Friend of the West Ring

Reputational item

Gives the right to enter the palace of the Western kings.

Gives the right to receive any and all information at the Academy of Wisdom.

Frees the holder from the obligation to pay tariffs and taxes in the Western lands.

Guarantees the loyalty of the royal services in the Western lands.

Cannot be stolen, lost, or gifted.

Does not disappear from the holder’s inventory after dying.

Durability: 1000/1000

Class limit: none

Minimum level for use: none

There was a lot there, but it was also a lot about nothing. Still, I figured it might come in handy at some point—especially that part about visiting the Academy of Wisdom.

Krone’s Signet Ring

Belonged to Krone, one of the greatest kings of ancient times. He was born a lowly barbarian but endured trials and wars to become king of all the North.

From the Krone, Barbarian King set

Set includes:

Krone’s Helmet

Krone’s Chainmail

Krone’s Cloak

Krone’s Boots

Krone’s Sword

Krone’s Signet Ring

+65 to strength

+54 to stamina

+18% to dodge ability

+16% chance of giving your opponent a penetrating wound

+9% chance of finding treasure and hiding places

+11% running speed

Durability: 3000/3000

Minimum level for use: 130

Class limitation: warrior

Cannot be stolen, lost, broken, or gifted.

The following bonuses are unlocked by using the complete set:

+100 to strength

+25% chance of doing critical damage

+15% chance of getting a weapon from dead enemies

+15% resistance to cold

The ring wasn’t completely pointless, though with that minimum level… Anyway, I figured it would be good to have in reserve. I could always just sell it to Joker. All right, time to face the music in the woods.

I walked in and shouted into the trees, not really worried about tails.

“Hey, Eiliana, are you here?”

“Come this way,” I heard the dryad call. “I’m here.”

Ten steps later, I tripped over a root and tumbled into a field I didn’t really remember. The grove of trees had been there the last time I was there, but not the field.

Flashing in the center of the field was a fire that lit up the area, and I noticed Eiliana as well as the rest of the dryads. They were all standing across from each other at different ends of the field. I couldn’t tell, but I imagined they were standing in each of their four directions.

“Wow, you’re like Satanists or something,” I said to them. Something wasn’t right, and I didn’t like it.

“Did you get what we need?” Eiliana asked, ignoring what I said.

“The chalice?” I responded.

“Obviously!” She and her sisters were all tense, and the way they were looking at me made me want to grab my sword. “Where is it?”

“Right here.” I tapped my bag. “But first I want to know what you all are up to.”

“I’d be happy to tell you,” Eiliana said with a smile as she smoothly pulled a dagger out of somewhere. Its blade glinted in the light of the fire.

Chapter Twenty-Six

In which the sun comes up over Fayroll (part one)

“Sisters!” Eiliana went back to her spot and lifted the hand with the dagger toward the sky.

The other dryads also held their palms high, daggers flashing, duelling with the reflection from the fire.

“Dome!” A small red flame burst out of the tip of Eiliana’s dagger. It looked like ball lightning, and a small filament stretched skyward. The same thing happened to each of Mesmerta’s other servants, though each of them had differently colored filaments shooting toward the heavens. It was a fascinating sight, and one I thought was absolutely gorgeous to watch. With that said, I would have preferred to be a witness, rather than a participant in whatever was happening. I didn’t know if the filaments were going to entangle me and leave me vulnerable to whatever the dryads had planned, or if something else was going on. How was I supposed to know what Eiliana meant by the word “dome”?

As those thoughts ran through my head, the filaments met a good distance up in the sky, and a transparent, rainbow-colored dome filled in between them. It looked like the force fields in fantasy movies. What’s going on?

“Now nobody will be able to get in or out,” Eiliana said with satisfaction. “Nobody will be able to hear or see us either.”

“Who’s going to be watching?” I asked. “It’s late, everybody’s asleep.”

“The trees told me there were two spies hiding in them,” she replied. “They came with you.”

So I really was being followed. Is this my life now? Ridiculous... It wasn’t that I was annoyed, it was just…No, you know what? I really am annoyed!

“Hagen, give me the chalice. There isn’t much time left before dawn, so we need to hurry.”

“If you don’t get it done tonight, you can postpone the ceremony until tomorrow,” I replied with a shrug. “What’s the big deal?”

“When Mesmerta finds out—and she will find out—that we had that chalice and didn’t perform the ceremony right away, she’ll destroy us,” Ogina the East said, wincing in fear. “She’s terrifying when she’s angry, you have to believe me!”

Wow. They’ve devoted their lives to the goddess, lived in some holes, and she might still get on their case…

“Fine, take your chalice. Idrissa, here.” I pulled it out of my bag and gave it to the dryad, who had walked over.

You completed a quest: Chalice of Memory

Reward:

30,000 experience

Dryad Friendship Ring

Your choice of unique animal helpers (pets)

The ability to use transportation (one-time use unlocking your choice of transportation type)

And then there it was again: ding!

You unlocked Level 61!

Points ready to be distributed: 5

I was really racking up the levels.

You received a single-use scroll with a passive ability: Rider.

You can learn it to gain the ability to use a means of transportation. To do so, select one of the five creatures designated as means of transportation in the Fayroll world.

To active the scroll, break the seal and say the name of the animal you would like to choose.

The scroll is a reward you received for completing a quest, and it cannot be given or sold to another player or NPC. If you attempt to do so, it will be destroyed. The scroll will not be removed from your inventory if you die.

Class limit: none

Minimum level for use: 60

Just one more expensive and pointless item for my collection. I could only guess how much a scroll like that must cost, though I wasn’t going to get to use it. I had no desire to buy a horse for the same amount a car would cost in real life. Well, if the bosses just want to give me an animal, then okay, but I doubt that will happen…

You received a single-use scroll: Faithful Friend and Helper.

You can learn it to get one of four representatives of Fayroll’s animal world as a pet. The choices are:

Polar Wolf

Mazaranda Tiger

Cleaver Boar

Giant Battle Mantis

Each of the animals has their own unique combat ability they improve as they level-up.

Once you select one of the animals and activate the scroll, it will be always at your side to protect and preserve you. If you enter a building, it will wait near the entrance.

The animal’s level depends on your level. When you first summon it, its level will be a quarter of your level.

The animal will receive 25% of the experience you get for each kill. The experience you get for completing quests doesn’t count.

If the animal is killed, it suffers the following penalties:

35% of its experience gained toward the next level is lost

-20% strength for 24 hours

To activate the scroll, break the seal and say the name of the animal you would like to choose.

The scroll is a reward you received for completing a quest, and it cannot be given or sold to another player or NPC. If you attempt to do so, it will be destroyed. The scroll will not be removed from your inventory if you die.

Class limit: none

Minimum level for use: 60

It struck me as more of a vacuum than a companion. A little creature at just Level 15, and sucking up some of my experience…although…I’ll think about it.

Dryad Friendship Ring

Unique reputational item

Gives the holder the ability to find the way to the nearest settlement in any forest (to activate the ability, which costs 200 mana, say “Road” while wearing the ring).

Gives the ability to ask any of the dryads for help once a month (to activate the ability, which costs 500 mana, say “Dryad help” while wearing the ring, and the dryad responsible for the part of Rattermark where you are at that moment will appear).

+25% chance of receiving unexpected aid from the Fayroll animal world

Cannot be stolen, lost, gifted, or sold.

Does not disappear from the holder’s inventory after dying.

Durability: 1000/1000

Class limitation: none

Minimum level for use: none

It wasn’t any big bombshell of a ring, but it wasn’t bad… I figured I’d just been handed a compass, or maybe a GPS. Okay, so I hadn’t been in any forests that I thought I could have gotten lost in, but I didn’t know what lay ahead of me. There were a lot of places I hadn’t been in Fayroll since I’d spent most of my time there hopping from one location to another. But what was it with the reputational items? I’d just pick one up, and there was another.

The dryads didn’t wait for me to read through all the messages I’d gotten before getting down to business. They had dragged a blackened tripod over and set it up right in the coals of the fire, which had nearly burned itself out, and were about to slice open their hands with the knives. I’d suspected that was their plan. I felt a heaviness come over me as I realized what was about to happen. Sure, I’d been ready for it for a while, though I’d hoped against hope that I would be wrong.

Each of the dryads gashed a hand. They weren’t even small cuts, like on a finger or the palm; they practically cut through to the bone, leaving blood to pour out into the chalice. Once again, I was surprised. Wasn’t the game getting just a bit too realistic? I had to think it was going overboard. The king was killed, the two rebels were stabbed to death, and then there was a blood sacrifice.

Idrissa lifted the chalice up onto the tripod, the dryads all went back to their positions, and then they got down on their knees and started to sing in unison—or, rather, they howled out some sort of slow tune or mournful spell, I wasn’t sure which. I stepped away to the edge of the field, leaned up against a birch tree, and watched the proceedings.

The howling got louder, their voices wobbling and their hands shaking above their heads. It hit me what the scene looked like a shaman rite. They rock around like that, too, when they’re going into their trances.

To my great surprise, my head was filled with odd, unrelated thoughts (for example, about how rarely I saw players in the game with pets). I’d been surprised, but at that point, I understood what was going on. Who needed something running around behind you and taking your experience? The experience wasn’t even the biggest thing. Let’s say you wanted to sneak up on some marauders in the forest. There you’d be creeping along to make sure you didn’t startle them and lose the element of surprise, but then you’d have your bear pounding along behind you like some kind of tractor. Or it might be a boar, but the only difference that would have made is that it would have done less roaring and more grunting. Regardless, there was no big draw.

Things in the field were clearly drawing toward their climax. The dryads wriggled their limbs in the air, repeating their refrain over and over again. “Mesmerta, Mesmerta, Mesmerta!”

Sparks of all different colors shot out of the bonfire, an enormous flame licked up nearly to the sky and engulfed the chalice, and I could only assume the fire was visible for a good distance out from the woods. If anybody was waiting for me to leave, they knew something was up. It wasn’t the type of thing you saw every day.

Just then, Eiliana struck the gong in front of her.

The flame exploded into a shower of sparks that kept coming for a full thirty seconds. Finally, they subsided, and out of the fire and into the field stepped a tall, beautiful woman wearing a white silk dress. It was something like a wedding dress, only without all the lace and decorations. Also, she wasn’t holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Goddess!” the dryads all gasped as they prostrated themselves on the ground.

“Cool,” I added, appreciating how extraordinary Mesmerta was.

Boom! The thunder that peeled across the clear sky seconded my assessment.

Mesmerta cast her eyes around the field and dryads, stopping when she got to me. “And why didn’t you fall on the ground when you saw me?” she asked a bit crustily.

“Why should I?” I shrugged.

“I’m a goddess,” she replied, frowning meaningfully.

“And I’m a warrior,” I replied. I don’t like arrogance. I really don’t.

Mesmerta pursed her lips and addressed the dryads. “Get up, my daughters—you were able to fulfill your task after all. I may only be here temporarily and infrequently, and only until dawn, but I’m back. I alone of the Departed Gods have returned.”

I did have one thought cross my mind when she mentioned that, though it wasn’t the time or the place for it.

“Goddess, we waited; we believed,” Eiliana stuttered. “We did everything you told us to do.”

“Oh, get up already. I assume this is the chosen one?” the goddess asked, turning back to me.

“Yes, that’s him,” Idrissa confirmed.

“He’s defiant,” the goddess noted. “No respect, no adoration. Has everything really changed so much?”

The dryads were silent, apparently too afraid to confirm her suspicions. I decided to do the honors myself. “You’re telling me.” I grinned.

“Everything’s completely different these days. I may not know what things were like before you left, but now… Put it this way—not only will nobody be all that thrilled or sad that you’re back; nobody even remembers who you are. As far as whether people will obey and worship you, well, you’ll have to forgive me, but I sincerely doubt it.”

The frown on the goddess’s face intensified, and I saw her eyes start to darken as she watched me. I could have thrown a couple more jabs her way, of course, and gotten myself incinerated and sent back to Aegan. (I’d linked to the headstone there just in case.) I would have had to deal with the quest in that instance, though… What would the bosses think of that? I had sworn allegiance or something like that to Zimin… And I knew what I was getting myself into. But oh, how tempted I was to be done with the whole rigmarole right there! I was tired.

“It’s true, radiance,” Hilda said sadly. “They forgot the gods, all of them—dark and light. Fayroll doesn’t have any temples, any sacrifices, any worship. The only ones who remember you are the ones you created, and even some of them are glad you left.”

The goddess was clearly taken aback, and I could understand. She’d been off non-existing, when suddenly she’d been pulled back into the big world. She came thinking she’d get a red-carpet welcome, flowers, toasts, and all the rest. All she got instead, was a field at night, her four idiot underlings, and a person who couldn’t care less about her. I’d be upset, too…

“What about him?” the goddess asked, a finger pointed in my direction. “Why did he do this?”

“For the money,” I explained, mentally waving goodbye to my plan for a sudden death. Sure, I wasn’t too anxious to get involved with the gods, especially since the first goddess I happened to meet turned out to be a less-than-savory character. “Your devoted dryads rewarded me generously for my help.”

“Perhaps you didn’t even think about the great mission you were accomplishing by helping my children?” the goddess suggested indulgently and hopefully. “Now you understand how lucky you were, no?”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter to me, I swear,” I told her. “Worthy pay is what’s most important to me. I’m a mercenary, Goddess, and mercenaries care about their fee first and foremost. They like when it’s generous and on time.”

The goddess turned back to the dryads. “Well, my children, let’s talk about what’s most important. Ahead of you is a critical mission—returning me to this world for good so I can take the throne as the supreme deity. We need my husband to come back, as well, one way or another.”

“Mesmerta,” I said to the goddess when I heard her mention her husband, “what kind of god is he? Severe? Fair? It’s just that I’m his follower—actually, his only formal follower at the moment.”

“A-ah!” Mesmerta replied, her face brightening. “So that’s whose mark you have!”

“You can’t tell?” I asked incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“The gods don’t have the right to see who serves who,” Mesmerta explained. “We can see when creatures serve someone, though we’re not given the gift of seeing who. It’s very frustrating. Sometimes, you just really want to turn someone into ash, and you can’t. What if they serve someone you need to be careful about?”

“I don’t know about that. If you think about it from the point of view of the person about to be turned into ash, it isn’t that bad,” I replied, scratching my head.

“About my husband, everything depends on what I think,” she said, transparently hinting that I needed to get on her good side. “He listens to my opinion. But yes, he’s always fair, though many have accused him of being cruel. He’s a warrior, and that comes with the territory. You should give that some thought, I’d say.”

She turned away from me again, figuring that I would give in and throw myself at her feet. They were attached to long and slender legs, obvious even though hidden under the dress. I had to say, though I wasn’t about to throw in the towel. I was happy to get the information, however.

Mesmerta started asking the dryads questions about names and places I’d never heard of. All except Tekhosh, that is. She was getting a feel for the situation in Rattermark, in particular, and in Fayroll overall. Realizing that they might be a while, I sat down under the birch tree and, strange as it may seem, fell asleep.

***

I’m not sure how long I was out, though I think it was quite a while. When someone started shaking my shoulder and I opened my eyes, the moon was in a very different place in the sky. There was still some time before dawn, though it didn’t look like much.

Mesmerta herself was shaking me, and she was doing it with her foot. “You’re sleeping?” she asked with indignation in her voice.

“Yes, imagine that,” I replied, annoyed. “It’s night out, and this is when I always sleep. Today, I had to stay up getting that chalice so you could come down from the sky, and we sent a whole lot of people up there in the process. Quite a few of them were really good people, too. I’m tired, and I fell asleep.”

The goddess pursed her lips again and sniffed in frustration. “Rejoice, for you have been chosen by me for a great mission!”

Damn, was all I could think. Here we go again.

Congratulations!

You have the chance to complete a series of epic quests: The Gods Return to Fayroll.

Accept?

“Is this a joke?” I really was taken aback. “What is that?”

“What’s wrong now, mortal?” Mesmerta shot back, starting to boil again.

“Where’s the reward?” I asked, confused. “Where are all the goodies? There’s nothing!”

“The right to complete the quest is in itself the greatest of honors. It was given to only one of the millions of creatures walking the land of Fayroll—you.” Mesmerta’s tone was pompous. “It’s the kind of good fortune you could only dream of.”

“I won’t argue with you about whether it’s good fortune or not because I’m in no position to say. But I’m not going to work for free. No offense. All labor should have its reward.”

Obviously, I’d be accepting the quest, since there was no getting around that. But without a reward? That was going too far. There had to be something by definition, and so I had every right to push for it.

“Let me remind you one more time, fair Goddess,” I continued firmly. “You’re working with a mercenary, and rewards are part of my profession. I respect you, and you’re the wife of my patron god, but still… Even Vitar himself wouldn’t understand what you’re getting at. You said yourself that he’s fair, if harsh, and that means he wouldn’t go trying to get services without paying for them.”

The dryads looked at me with wide eyes. It looked like they hadn’t even imagined that someone might turn their goddess down. Although, to be fair, I wasn’t trying to pull one over on her in the least; it was just that I really wasn’t going to work for free. I’d be out there racking my brain yet again trying to figure out their puzzles, and I could only assume that round two was going to be even more difficult than saving the dryads.

It was a trying time in Fayroll, too, and I was between a rock and a hard place. I wasn’t going to do the quest just because it was some great honor. And as I’d come to realize recently, all the toys I was collecting in the game could be flipped for hard cash in the real world. I didn’t know how long I’d be on Zimin’s good side—only God knew that. Or maybe the devil. But turning down the chance to build up a nice pot, secure in my hotel room, waiting for a rainy day, was not something I planned on doing. There needed to be an awfully good reward.

Mesmerta sighed deeply, swallowing her anger as she realized that she needed me. For now. “So what would you like as a reward?” she asked.

“Oh, unique and useful items with different magical properties,” I replied, starting to tick the different options off. “Armor, weapons, jewelry, rare abilities…it can be anything. I need it all.”

Eiliana came over to Mesmera and whispered something in her ear.

“Okay, warrior, you need a reward? Then you’ll have one,” Mesmerta said majestically. “You say it’s yours by right, and you can count on it. But don’t expect me to forget that you demanded payment in return for helping me.”

“That’s your right, though I’m not sure why you’re offended,” I replied with a shrug. “Believe me, Goddess, I’m far from the worst person you’ll come across here in Fayroll. When you come back, you’ll see for yourself, and maybe your point of view will change.”

“Let’s start by you getting me back,” Mesmerta said, all business.

Another message appeared in the interface, this one much more detailed.

Congratulations!

You have the chance to complete a series of epic quests: The Gods Return to Fayroll.

Reward for beating the entire quest series:

60,000 experience

100,000 gold

5 levels

The right to ask each of the gods returning to Fayoll one question and get a concise, complete, and truthful answer. If a god cannot answer your question, you will receive one legendary active ability for your class.

Three-item set matching your class

Unique ring: Divine Aid

+100 to one of your primary attributes

Title: Favorite of the Gods

Additional information: If the god (goddess, gods) you return to Fayroll favor you, you may receive the ability to travel to their throne and get the blessing of considerable bonuses once every three days.

Additional information: As you complete this quest series, remember that each quest has a hidden bonus reward. In some cases, you will be given hints about how to get them; in others, you will not.

Accept?

That was better. Much better, even. Those were the kind of rewards I could get behind, especially considering that I didn’t really have a choice.

“Well, my greedy hero, does that payment suffice?” the goddess asked sarcastically.

And she’s supposed to be one of the good, light gods. The evil ones must be the absolute worst!

“It’s excellent,” I replied with a nod. “Standard payment for difficult work like that.”

I tapped the accept button, the sky boomed again, Mesmerta lifted her arms in the air and laughed, and the dryads again fell on the ground.

You unlocked First Thread in the Tangle

This is the first in The Gods Return to Fayroll series of epic quests.

Task: Find out how to get Mesmerta back to Fayroll.

Reward:

5000 experience

Rare gem

Random ability scroll

Ability to unlock the next quest in the series

“Well, my children, there’s just one thing left,” Mesmerta said as she reached out a hand toward the prostrate dryads.

I opened my map. Well, of course!

“Hey, hey, hold on a second.” I tapped Mesmerta on the back with a bent finger. “Am I missing something here?”

“Mortal!” the goddess hissed back like some kind of viper. “How dare you touch me? Who do you think you are?”

“Nobody important. You hired me, and now I’m trying to do my job and get you back here. That’s all I’m looking to do,” I replied, not backing down. I knew what life was going to be like with those gods: giving nothing, and asking every day why I wasn’t done with what they needed. That meant I had to stay on my toes and miss nothing. “Just tell me where to start my search, and I’ll get going.”

She had to know where the beginning was. It was a quest, and there’s always a hook. The group in front of me had to be the first hook.

“I have no idea!” the goddess yelled back at me. The trees whipped back and forth in the wind, the dryads trembled. “I’ve been off in the Great Nothingness, so how am I supposed to know?”

Huh, it looks like she actually doesn’t know. That’s a twist!

“Goddess, can I say something?” Hilda stammered, picking her head up off the ground. Mesmerta graciously nodded her assent.

“In the Sumaki Mountains, there’s a hermit,” Hilda said to me. “I heard about him from the Wild Hunt once when they were in my clearing. From what they said, the hermit knows everything that is or ever was because he has been alive since the foundation of the world. I think you should talk to him. The only problem is that it’s hard to get there and even harder to convince him to speak to you. At least, that’s what the Wild Hunt said.”

“Great, so it’s time for some mountain climbing,” I replied, not bothering to hide my displeasure. “Can you be any more specific about where the hermit lives?”

“No.” Hilda shook her head. “I do know his name, though: Ort Ashen.”

Additional information for First Thread in the Tangle

Go to the Sumaki Mountains and find a hermit named Ort Ashen.

I pulled up my map again and saw that a red spot had appeared. It was a good ways off, that was for sure, though that problem was more manageable.

“One more thing, warrior,” Mesmerta said, jabbing me in the chest with a finger. “Don’t take too long bringing me back. You have four months, and if you miss the deadline…”

Additional information for The Gods Return to Fayroll

You have four months of in-game time to complete the quest series.

If you fail the quest series, you will receive a curse: Unliving, Undead.

Your level of health will never be higher than 5%.

You will be denounced as an enemy of the goddess Mesmerta, and all races friendly to her will also see you as such.

Getting the curse would have been a death sentence, leaving me with no other option than to create a new character. Speaking of curses and all that, I’d had an idea right after I’d first heard about the quest to bring the gods back. It was time to make it happen.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In which the sun comes up over Fayroll (part two).

“I won’t miss it; I don’t have a choice,” I assured the goddess. I was just about to continue talking to her, however, when she turned back toward her dryads and started discussing some divine topic or other.

I coughed a few times. That didn’t work. “Miss Goddess?” I had to tap her on the back again. “We’re not done.”

Mesmerta’s face in that moment was unpleasantly reminiscent of my clan leader’s. At least, that’s how Elina had spent most of our latest meetings looking at me.

“Mortal, I could destroy you where you stand!”

“No, not right now you can’t,” I replied. “Who would bring you back from the Great Nothingness? But don’t be offended, Mesmerta, I’ve been trying to get your attention, and nothing’s working.”

“Never. Ever. Touch. Me. Again. And pray that my husband—and your lord—doesn’t hear about this.”

“What are you talking about? That’s not what I wanted at all,” I replied. “I have something else I need to talk to you about, something directly related to the quest. It turns out, there’s going to be a problem with it…”

My head drooped sadly.

“What is it now?” Mesmerta squinted at me.

“A wedding,” I replied, even humming a bar or two from Mendelssohn’s Wedding March for good measure.

“Stop right there; I understand,” the goddess jumped in. “Who are you supposed to marry, and why can’t you just postpone it?”

“With a vila; it’s soon; and I’ll be cursed if I don’t do it,” I said, the words tumbling out. “How can I postpone it? You were the one who rigged it up with all the curses and other familial joys.”

“An excellent choice.” Mesmerta was the first to approve of my choice instead of calling me an idiot. “Vilas make for wonderful wives: they’re kind, faithful, and the perfect housewives.”

“That’s all well and good, but you can’t really go very far once you’re married to one. How am I going to complete your quest then? With a young wife in tow? I don’t think she’ll be happy about that.”

The goddess paused to think. “Where’s the Supreme Vila, by the way?” she asked one of the dryads suddenly. “Is she still alive?”

The dryads faltered again, leaving me to pick up the slack. “She’s alive all right, sitting in a marsh not far from here. She rules the vilas and tries to catch passersby to restructure their personal lives.”

“So, why isn’t she here?” The goddess scowled. “She had to have felt that I descended into this world. I get the rest, but her…”

The goddess snapped her fingers and barked a word I didn’t know. A gap appeared near the top of the dome, and a minute later, the Supreme Vila, her face a mix of confusion, flew through it. She was missing her cloak and shoes.

“Explain to me, Regina Rem Trigge,” the goddess said sweetly to the vila, “why you didn’t appear the instant I crossed from non-existence into existence.”

The vila mumbled something, tears coursing down her face.

“Excuse me, Goddess,” I said, deciding to cut in. The stars were already starting to fade, and I didn’t know the gods to be a particularly forward-thinking group. “Would you mind finishing our business before you clarify things with her?”

The Supreme Vila didn’t get up, though she turned to look at me with wild anger in her eyes. Ah, somebody didn’t really want their dear old mom coming back to the world. It did make sense; she was the queen of her swamp, and now she’d have to start taking instructions from someone else again. If looks could kill, I would have been a pile of ash small enough to fit into a cigarette packet.

Mesmerta pointed at me. “This person is engaged to one of your girls?”

“Yes, Goddess,” the vila replied.

“Move the wedding back six months,” the goddess ordered.

What? Move it back? Yeah, right!

“No, no, no,” I said, waving my arms. “We need to cancel it, not move it back.”

“And why is that?” The goddess pursed her lips.

“How do you know what will happen later?” I needed to wriggle my way out of the situation, so I was pulling out all the stops. “What about bringing your husband back? How do you know what plans he’ll have for me? And in the meantime, there the girl will be, sitting and waiting. I feel terrible for her…”

The goddess looked at me dubiously, though she nodded in agreement. “You may be right. Regina, cancel the engagement.”

The Supreme Vila got up from the ground, looked at me with intense disgust, and raised her hand in the air. “By the power vested in me, I dissolve the union between Elmilora Krakh Taug and Hagen of Tronje free of all mutual grievances and curses!”

That shout was followed by her lowering her hands and sending one parting shot in my direction, though she didn’t bother to look at me as she did. “Are you happy, you dog?”

“Not exactly,” I replied, turning to the goddess. “Could we make it so that Elmilora forgets me completely? As if I were never there at all? She’s a sweet, kind girl, and I’d hate to see her upset.”

The goddess nodded and snapped her fingers.

Your engagement with the vila has been dissolved.

You can no longer count on the support of the vilas throughout Fayroll.

Marshes are no longer 50% more passable.

I didn’t really care about the marshes. Still, I knew I’d have to keep an eye out; the Supreme Vila was not likely to forget what I’d pulled off. The way she’s looking at me…

“Is that all?” The goddess stared at me with poorly concealed annoyance.

“No,” I replied frankly. “I have one more question. A tiny one!”

The goddess sighed deeply.

“Mesmerta, do you happen to know this language?” I held out the scroll I’d had in my bag for who-knows-how-long, the one nobody knew what to do with.

“Ah, the heritage,” the goddess replied after barely unrolling it. “You’re not supposed to read it. Those aren’t letters; they’re symbols. You’re supposed to use it.”

“What do you mean?” I stared at her. “How do I use it? And what’s the heritage?”

“We didn’t leave all of a sudden,” Mesmerta explained. “Each of us set up our own temple and servant, or, in some cases—like mine—several servants. And then we prepared a heritage, which was the knowledge or ability we thought most important for the follower who would find it. We all made the scrolls together and left them around the world. This scroll is one of those heritages. If you serve one of the gods, you can use his or her name to get the knowledge he or she hid within it.”

“Wow,” was all I could say. They’d gone a bit overboard on that one. How was someone supposed to guess?

“Are we done now?” The goddess was starting to tap her foot impatiently.

“Yes, that’s it, thank you,” I nodded. “Oh, who should I talk to when the quest is done? Or if I have questions about all this divine stuff?”

“Talk to her, Eiliana,” Mesmerta replied, pointing to the frozen dryad. “And hurry.”

“Of course.”

The goddess herself didn’t interest me much, and it looked like the feeling was mutual. I pulled out the scroll and turned it around in my hands.

“In the name of Vitar, give me your knowledge!” It sounded ridiculous, but…

You completed a quest: Through the Centuries

Reward:

500 experience

Ability: Polyglot

Getting an ability sure was nice.

You learned a new passive ability: Polyglot, Level 1

You learned the ancient languages long-since disappeared from Fayroll. If you find documents from the age of the Ancients, you will be able to read them.

The scroll burst into flame and disappeared.

Congratulations!

You can use the heritage left by Vitar, the God of War: Resurrected Legion.

You can restore the Legion of Light, which disappeared from Fayroll thousands of years ago, and become its first legate before the return of Vitar.

For more information, say “Legion of Light.”

Now, that was cool. I decided not to jump right in, however, as I wanted some time to think about it. There was no deadline I had to say the words by, after all.

The goddess was standing in a circle of her children explaining something to them hurriedly. She kept glancing up at the lightening sky.

“All right, I’ll see you all later,” I said loudly. “Can I go?”

The goddess turned, nodded shortly, and waved her hand, at which point a small opening in the dome appeared. I waved and walked out through it. As soon as I was through, the dome closed up behind me, and I couldn’t help but note that I could no longer see what was going on inside.

If I hadn’t been left with yet another headache to deal with, I would have been more than happy with how things had turned out. And why not? I’d shaken my tail, picked up some goodies, and hadn’t been working for nothing. The fact that I was going to have to run up and down the whole continent again—and I had no doubt that I’d be doing just that—certainly wasn’t anything to get excited about, of course. I was exhausted—I could feel it in my bones.

Why did I get into that fight with the goddess? What was the point of trying to get her angry, even if I was doing it subconsciously? I knew, or at least I could guess. The last few months had me frazzled, more emotionally than physically. The constant duplicity, both in the virtual world and real life (which, incidentally, were on a collision course to merge into one) was gnawing at my brain. All I could think about was how to find my way out of the latest trap, and when my influential and dangerous bosses would turn on me. When they did, I knew, I’d have to hand over everything they’d given me—though they’d take it with interest. I never have believed in human kindness. Throw in all the many people I’d met in those past few months and everything they wanted from me, and it made sense that I was tired. I just happened to take it out on the goddess.

***

As I stepped out of the forest, I realized that my day was far from over. On the other hand, I was happy that I was going to clear all my slates in the space of one night. That, at least, was a pleasant proposition.

I can’t say that I expected to find nobody there waiting for me. As soon as Eiliana told me about the spies hanging around, I realized I’d have to explain what was going on. But I didn’t expect to see quite so many people.

On the edge of the forest and spreading out onto the plain were at least fifty players, many of whom I knew.

The Gray Witch was sitting on a log, her head lowered. I might have thought that she was asleep if it weren’t for the fact that Radius was perched next to her. He was explaining something, his hands gesturing from time to time.

Behind her, were Milly Re, Cedric Sekira, and maybe thirty high-level players. I noticed Nox and Turk among them. Don’t they have their regimen, trainer, and all that? Fredegar was nowhere to be seen, so I guessed that he had fallen completely out of favor. On the other hand, there was a scout named Torsten standing next to Milly.

A little farther away stood Elina, her face as annoyed as ever, and another twenty people. I saw Gerv, Gorotul, Oygolinn, and the Iron…hmm…Lumberjack? Then there was an old friend: Sergeant, the dwarf. I guess he’s still in the clan. Eilinn wasn’t there, however.

I twisted around, looking for the only other person I expected to find at our family reunion: Miurat. He wasn’t there. Either he’d given up on me, or something else was going on…

Milly bent over the Witch and whispered something to her. The latter picked her head up and gestured for me to come over. Elina also started, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. I sighed, glanced over at the light making its way across the east, and walked toward the group.

“Good morning, Hagen,” the Witch said as sweetly as ever. “We didn’t expect you to take so long.”

“If I’d known so many people were waiting for me, I would have hurried,” I replied, returning her smile.

“Judging by the dome, which none of us have ever seen the likes of; the column of light, which is also tricky to explain; and a few other observations, whatever was in there shouldn’t have been hurried.” The Witch shook her head. “Hidden or epic?”

“Hidden,” I replied frankly. “A series.”

“What’s it called?” the Witch asked, looking me in the eye.

“Rocks of Hope,” I answered, saying the first thing that came into my head. Let them try to figure out what that’s about.

“I haven’t heard of that—must be new,” the Witch noted.

Elina walked over silently with her entire entourage, her jaw clenched. Her lips formed the slenderest of lines across her face.

Torsten caught my eye; he was digging in his pocket. “If just one speck of Truth Powder gets on me, there’s going to be a fight—and I don’t care that it won’t end well for me,” I warned him. “I’ll be stuck sneezing for a week. That stuff is the worst.”

Five warriors clattered forward. The Gray Witch held up her hand, stopping them in their tracks. “It’s okay,” she said gently. “It’s Hagen’s business whether he told us the truth or not.”

“No, not just his,” Elina said, finally breaking her silence. “It’s his business, but it’s also clan business. We have our order, and we have our rules. He’s broken absolutely all of them—to the very last one. He was obligated to tell us if he got a hidden quest. Sergeant!”

“Yes, Elina?” the dwarf answered quietly.

“Did you tell Hagen during your introductory meeting about our requirement for telling the clan council everything that comes up about hidden and epic quests?”

“Yes, Elina,” he replied darkly.

“But you didn’t do that, Hagen.”

“No, I didn’t,” I agreed. “No sense contradicting the obvious.”

“Are you aware of the consequences for that?”

“Expulsion and revenge,” I replied with a shrug. “What else? Sergeant told me about that, too.”

“Correct. But you can avoid that fate if you tell us what the quest was and who or what the quest starter is and give us everything you got for it. If you do, you can stay in the clan.”

Ah, Elina, as greedy as ever. Or overbearing? Maybe just stupid.

“I don’t even have to think about that,” I answered. “Especially since it was a one-time quest. You can’t get it again regardless.”

The Gray Witch shook her head, looking at me with disapproval and sympathy in her eyes.

“A one-time quest.” Elina threw up her arms. “So the reward must have been impressive.”

“Whatever the case, it’s all mine,” I said, continuing to push my luck even as I realized that I was just digging myself deeper into the hole I was in. My tongue has always been my worst enemy. One thing was for sure; I definitely shouldn’t have mentioned that it was a one-time quest.

“Well, then!” Elina smiled maliciously. Actually, it was more a snarl than a smile. “I, Elina the Wise, dishonorably discharge Hagen from the Thunderbirds with no right to ever be readmitted. By the same token, I denounce Hagen as an enemy of the clan. From now on, all Thunderbirds are required to kill him wherever they see him, informing the clan council in each case.”

Ding!

You were kicked out of the Thunderbirds by its leader, Elina the Wise.

You lost the following bonuses:

+5% experience received

-7% damage done by opponents

+4% ability to see objects’ hidden attributes

+4% damage done by all weapon types

+5% protection from cold

+5% protection from fire

+15% healing received

+3% chance of receiving rare and hidden quests

So that was that. I was a free man. Sure, it was a shame to lose the bonuses, even if they did mean less and less. Every little bit helps.

But, to be honest, even if I was about to have even more problems dumped on my plate, I felt…I don’t know. Satisfied, probably. I was sick and tired of clan life with the Thunderbirds, its rules and standards, and the fact that they often ventured outside the realm of what was reasonable. Perhaps, I just got unlucky when they found me instead of me finding a better clan, but I wasn’t ready to dip my toe into the water a second time. If they really start to get me, I can always head over to the Wild Hearts or even Gerd and his role players. I even had a rabbit waiting to be pulled out of my hat. I smiled at the thought.

“You’re smiling?” Elina said, giving me a pleased look. “We’ll see if you still are in a week or two. I imagine our allies would like to help punish a player as dishonest as Hagen?”

“Not at all,” Milly Re said. “Not in the least. And I’d recommend that you all think twice before you touch him.”

Turok and Nox shuffled their armor emphatically.

It was a good feeling.

“Milly, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” the Gray Witch said with a snap of her fingers. “I’m the one who decides who participates in what.”

Elina smiled triumphantly.

Maybe she’s British? I thought out of the blue. What’s that they say? We have no eternal allies, and we have no perpetual enemies…

“With that said, my master of battle is correct; the Hounds of Death do not intend to join your manhunt. Just look at the ring he has on his finger. Yes, keeping information about a hidden quest from the clan was a lapse in judgment. I don’t disagree that he violated your clan rules. But what does that have to do with us? You called us your allies, and that’s exactly what we are. That means that in battle, for raids, and when we set sail for Rivenholm, we are together. But my clan does not involve itself in your internal conflicts.”

Elina frowned again, her eyes narrowing.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not going to excuse Hagen. His decision was his decision. But I do want to remind all the Thunderbirds here, and ask you to pass this on to those who aren’t here, that Hagen is both a friend of the Hounds of Death and a personal friend of mine. I consider his problems to be my problems. You know that I am direct and strict and that I speak only openly and with witnesses, so you can draw your own conclusions.”

I suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. There’s nothing about me that’s sentimental, but that got to me.

There was motion in the ranks of the Thunderbirds, a whisper ran through them, and I saw several players involuntarily shake their heads. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they look. A massive manhunt didn’t look like it was in the cards. Sure, a couple dozen of them, especially Gorotul, would probably come after me, but it would be hard to find me in the vast expanses of the game. The ball’s in your court, gentlemen. Of course, Elina had really gotten to everyone, so it was possible that I was out of the woods altogether. She had her sights set on Rivenholm.

“It looks like I thought our alliance was closer than it actually was,” my former clan leader said sharply.

“Apparently,” the Gray Witch agreed. “That happens. With that said, I don’t see any reason why there has to be a problem between us. So the guy made a mistake—that definitely happens. You kicked him out? In disgrace? Okay, it’s over and done. Forget him and move on.”

“I’ll think about it.” Elina shot me a hateful glance that told me I hadn’t seen the last of her. “If you don’t mind, my clan is going to head out. We all have work in the morning.”

“Have a good day,” the Gray Witch replied with a friendly wave. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Oh, we understand each other, all right.” You would have had to be deaf not to catch the sarcasm and even hidden threat in Elina’s voice. She couldn’t help herself. “You can be sure of that.”

A portal flashed, and my old clan marched into it.

“Maybe that wasn’t the right move?” Radius scratched his hairy foot. “It doesn’t look terribly intelligent or rational right now.”

“To the contrary, my friend, to the contrary. Just remember why Paris fell in 1940, while Moscow didn’t fall in 1941. Well, besides the heroism of the Soviet people.”

Radius frowned. “That’s a dubious analogy, and not quite applicable to this situation,” he finally replied. “We know they’re leaking information. We could use that.”

“We will use that,” the Gray Witch assured him. “Only now, it’s going to be a bit more realistic.”

I coughed.

“Oh, stop it, James Bond. We didn’t forget about you.” The Gray Witch looked me over. “You really did make a mess of things, my friend. I hope the reward was worth it?”

“Not even close,” I replied with a wave. “A pet scroll and a few other little things.”

“That’s the way it always is,” Milly said. “You work and work, and there’s nothing in the end. We got more from that Hiss, not to mention something like Klatornakh.”

“Milly, my dear,” the Witch said to her. “Take the boys and walk around to see if we have any guests, please.”

That left just the three of us: me, the Gray Witch, and Radius.

“I know this isn’t anything new for you, but your life would be a lot easier if you joined my clan,” the Witch said lazily, knowing that I was waiting for her to say exactly that.

“Agreed, it would be. You wouldn’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. And thank you for the offer,” I nodded. “But I think I’m going to stay away from clans for the time being. I need a break, somewhere on the sand or in the North, preferably where there aren’t many players.”

“Not a smart idea,” Radius jumped in. “The Thunderbirds will be afraid to do anything to you openly, but they could find someone to do their dirty work for them. That would keep their hands clean and make your life miserable.”

“What do you mean, they could? Give it a couple weeks, and they definitely will,” the Witch assured him. “They don’t have the guts to do anything right now, and we’re on our guard, but in a couple weeks… Things we’ll be quieter, we’ll be busy; that’s when they’ll make their move.”

“Still, I’m good for now,” I sighed. “But thank you again. For the support, of course, but mostly for just being great about all this. There aren’t enough good people in the game, which is why I spend so much time with NPCs. They’re honest, at least.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to find that,” the Witch replied. “Okay, get out of here. The sun’s coming up, and we do all need to get to work.”

Nox bellowed something from the bushes, someone else cursed, and Hopkins dashed up to us, his eyes wide.

“Grab him!” Milly yelled, though Hopkins opened a portal and dove into it before anyone could react.

“He’s been following you,” the Witch said to me. “He picked you up in Aegan, tailed you to the Tearful Goddess Order, saw something going on there, and reported back to Elina. She sent her spies there and told me about the whole thing. It was simple from there. I added some of ours, and they led us here. The dome popped up when we were all gathering—Elina nearly jumped out of her skin she was so angry. And then you came out. By the way, I was impressed by what they told me about the fight in the palace. Horrible, but intriguing. Can you tell us what happened later?”

Of course, nobody does anything just out of the goodness of his heart.

“Certainly,” I promised. “With all the juicy details.”

“Excellent. Oh, open your exchange.”

I followed her instructions and listened as…all three of my runes tumbled in. All three!

“So Miurat showed up after all?” I asked nervously.

“I can go further than that; he was right here,” the Witch said with a sly smile. “Over there, where his cocoon lies next to the cocoons of his ten friends from the Double Shields. We aren’t vultures, so we left everyone’s things there except Miurat’s. They were waiting for you, too, only they were trying to be quieter about it.”

“I wonder how they found out about me,” I grunted.

“Definitely not from us.” The Witch looked me in the eye.

I realized what she was getting at, though I didn’t say it out loud. Oh, Elina, you’re too smart for your own good…

“You didn’t think about grabbing him and making him talk?” I asked.

“How?” the Witch replied with a shrug. “If this were the real world, sure, I’d have had him singing a very merry tune. But here… He could have just logged out.”

“I don’t think he wanted to kill you,” Radius chimed in. “He needs you for something—remember that. He’s going to play with you, and he has lots of tricks up his sleeve, from money to terror. Watch out for that guy. Watch out for him here, but on the other side of the monitor, too.”

“Neural bath,” the Witch said, correcting him.

“I’ll never get used to that.” The halfling waved his hand.

The Witch got up from her log. “He’s right. Watch out for him, and watch out for the people in charge of him especially.”

“Who’s in charge of him?” I asked, forcing a smile.

“If only I knew. But the war is only just getting started, so I imagine I’ll find out. Okay, stay in touch. Milly, let’s get going.”

Radius walked over to me. “The smartest thing you could do, young man, is to join us. I’m not after something; I’m just telling you the way it is. These days, you can’t be a lone wolf out there with your own secrets. You’re already caught between several different forces, so give that some thought.”

A few minutes later, they all disappeared into a portal. Milly was last, and she blew me a kiss as she went.

I looked around the now-empty field to see a few cocoons by the trees but I decided to leave them alone. There would be an accounting later, and I wouldn’t be able to prove anything. Miurat was a sly dog, and he could feasibly have had a scout in the bushes filming me. Besides, greed can lead you down rabbit holes that aren’t worth the trip.

It was funny, my whole adventure ended right where it began. And a new one started from the exact same place.

The sun was peeking up over the horizon to bathe the plain in a golden glow. Birds chirped in the trees—it was a perfect morning.

I turned my back to the grove and set off along a route I knew well, making my way toward the distant castle ruins belonging to the brave, deceased landlord who, once upon a time, blew up both himself and all the undead trying to get in. The sun was up by the time I got there, quiet reigned in the graveyard, and I wasn’t far from the village…What was it called? Whatever the case, it wasn’t a long walk. And it wasn’t even a big deal if I made it there or not. I was just tired of portals, and all I wanted was a stroll through the grass on a sunny morning. As a very smart person once said, walking is an excellent use of your time—it calms you down and clears your brain. I had a good hour and a half in front of me, and there was certainly no shortage of things to think about…

End of book four

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Book recommendations:

Thank you for reading Fayroll! The saga is far from over, but there are other great stories I wanted to tell you about!  Do yourself a favor and check out The Trapped Mind Project by Michael Chatfield. Find it here.

I also want to recommend Realm of Arkon, a great series written by a friend of mine: G. Akella (Georgy Smorodinsky). He is one of the most popular and best-selling LitRPG authors in Russia. Book one is currently available for free on Amazon.

What do a famous Swedish gamer, a half-woman half-dragon, a Japanese youth with ties to the Yakuza and a despicable goblin have in common? Find out in this new LitRPG fantasy series!  Find it here.

I would also like to recommend D.Rus who is another of the best-selling LitRPG Fantasy authors in Russia. His work is fantastic and very well received in Russia. You can find his work on Amazon.

Also don’t forget to look at my publisher’s website http://www.litworld.info for all the latest information and to find other great authors I work with.

And if you can’t get enough of Fayroll then why not join our Facebook Page. We post all the latest information about Fayroll, artwork and pictures and even the odd competition or two. You can find it on Facebook.

Fayroll 5

Can’t get enough of Fayroll?

Then go to this link for a sample of Fayroll Book 5.

Join Kif on his new adventure to bring the gods back to Fayroll and his attempt to further his career with a newly expanded team of troublesome workers and a corporate spy.

[1] Timur Kizyakov: A TV host who visits the homes of Russian celebrities.

[2] Chebureki: Deep-fried turnovers with a filling of ground or minced meat and onions.

[3] "We're in a famous TV show": A reference to a French TV show called Fort Boyard.

[4] Balakirev the Buffoon: A historical figure who was Peter the Great's jester.

[5] Dick Sand is a character from a Jules Verne novel.

[6] This is a name which means Great Snake.

[7] Pushkin (the specific instance referenced): The story of a sleeping princess, analogous to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

[8] Gaidar: A Soviet author of children's books.