Nethres tensed when I called her name, rising to her feet. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been clad in the blue and silver heavy plate of the Order of St. Grigori. Now, she was dressed in a set of armor fit for a Valkyrie. By the sword, shield, and Teutonic designs on her surcoat, I was willing to bet that’s exactly what she was.
“Hector.” Nethres had a husky, hollow voice, which warmed with real pleasure as I closed on her and offered a hand. She clapped her palm into mine, meeting my gaze as we shook. “Always knew you’d go a long way. Never imagined how far, though. Look at all this.”
“Thanks.” I was glad to see her, but still wary. “What a fucking adventure it’s been since dragon school, hey?”
“Guess you could call it that.” Nethres hadn’t ever smiled during the Trials, and she was just as serious now.
“What are you doing here, on the other side of Artana?” I asked, glancing back at the others. They’d stopped talking, watching us curiously. “I figured you’d stayed in Ilia.”
Nethres’ lips tightened. “The only people who stayed in Ilia are the ones into Baldr and Lucien’s Hitler fantasy. I left the country and traveled west to Gilheim. Picked up my Advanced Path, and bonded with a quazi.”
“Jeez. Well, what about Casper? We saw him in Dakhdir not long ago.”
At the mention of the archer’s name, Nethres’ face rippled with an irritated tic. “Fuck Casper. I thought he was my friend. Turns out he’s a piece of shit. I’ll be happy to tell you how it went down, in private.”
“Sure. Let me handle these guys, and we can go catch up.” I nodded, and turned to the rest of the group, beckoning them over.
The five of them were clearly split into two different parties, because the first group, three almost-identical Meewfolk with calico-patterned fur, moved together like synchronized swimmers. The other pair was only slightly less surreal. The Meewfolk woman was some kind of bard class, judging by her eccentric clothes and the strange looking instrument slung over her back—a set of double-layered pan-pipes about as long as a baseball bat. Her human companion was a one-hundred-percent walking fanfiction toon of Conan the Barbarian, complete with sword, shield, and bulging muscles. He wore nothing except a manly scowl, a loincloth, a rough fur cloak and steel pauldrons.
“Hey everyone, sorry to keep you waiting.” I put on my best veneer of confidence as they joined the conversation. “I’m Hector. I’m guessing that we have The Meews Brothers, plus Kylirra and Konan?”
Kylirra’s brilliant blue eyes hooded, and she trilled as she extended her hand to me, fingers out. “Oh, darling, I didn’t expect you’d even remember us! It’s so wonderful to be able to finally put a face to the name! We did that quest to recover all those little lordlings for you, remember? Kon, say hello.”
“Uhhn.” ‘Kon’ grunted.
The three brothers stepped forward to shake hands: all of them, at the same time. I started from the left and worked to the right, trying not to cross my eyes as I looked at them. The only visual difference between the three Meewfolk men was the color of their calico patches. The ginger, brown and white spots were swapped around.
“Nice to finally put a face to the Count of Myszno.” It was the middle one who spoke. “I’m... uhh... we’re pleased to meet you. My name was Hayden, but here we go by Makmaai. Or Max, if that’s easier.”
“Just... Makmaai? Singular?” I looked between them, confused.
Kylirra let out a tinkling laugh, flapping her hand. “‘Makmaai’ means ‘Legion’ in our language, in case you didn’t know.”
“Hah, yeah. We kind of shift focus from body to body, and the other two just roll with whatever the one in charge is doing. If we’re in character, we just go with White Max, Ginger Max, and Brown Max. Like a damn Dr. Seuss book.” The one to the left—the gingeriest—spoke up. “There was a glitch when I... we... uploaded. One set of brain data, three different avatars. If anyone was alive back at the company, we’re sure they’d have a goddamn field day trying to figure out how this happened.”
“We’re used to it, now, though,” Brown Max continued. “It’d be great if we actually got full EXP for all three toons, but we don’t. It’s split between us, so we make the best out of it.”
“Oh my god, you guys should totally make an acapella group!” Kylirra trilled, before looking back to me. “Anyway, Hector, me and Kon here want to sign up with your clan. I mean, I know there’s no official clans on Archemi or anything, but we’ve been all over Artana and the only other Starborn worth anything is that Baldr Hyland guy in Ilia. And to be frank with you, he seems like kind of a douche.”
“Hunh.” Kon nodded his assent.
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Nethres said dourly.
“Believe me, we’ve heard stories.” Kylirra let out a tittering, nervous laugh. “But yes, I don’t know about y’all, but after two back-to-back world wars and a mass extinction event, I’m a little sick of assholes trying to conquer the world for no good reason.”
“Same,” Brown Max said. “We want to sign up with your group and help out as we can. The talk in taverns is that Vlachia is gearing up to fight Ilia.”
“We’re trying to deter Ilia before it comes to full blown war, but yeah. Baldr and friends might leave us with no choice,” I said. “Anyway, I’ll tell you what: Myszno always has quests that need doing. All of you are welcome to take up rooms in the castle, or you can find your own places to live in Karhad, Boros, Litvy or Solonovka. I’ll preference you for Kingdom Quests for say, the next month or so. You get the EXP, money, whatever loot the quest entails, unless that loot belongs to the Volod and-or my province. Once Myszno is back to full operational capacity, we’ll see what I can do here as Voivode to grant special status in Vlachia. Depending on what your goals are, there’s posts available here for good people. You can also just use Karhad as a base to adventure from, if you want.”
“Sounds good to me… us. We don’t really get what’s happening in Ilia. We’re just really just looking for a place to figure out the game,” White Max said. “Feels like we’ve been running all over the place since the Helpdesk went dead.”
“Did you work at Ryuko?” I asked.
“Yeah. HR department. Nothing technical, unless you count staffing as ‘technical’.” The Maxes nodded.
“My wife was a programmer in the military division down in Texas.” Kylirra pinned her ears, tail lashing. “She didn’t make it, and I’ve just been drifting ever since. Kon here has been really supportive, but honestly, I just want somewhere to settle down and put my life back together.”
Kon grunted, crossing his arms.
“What about you, man?” I regarded the barbarian apprehensively. “You, uh... got any goals?”
“Uh? Oh.” He sniffed and scratched his nose, scowling up at the roof of the Great Hall. “Yes. After we crush the decadent Ilian dogs, I would like a position at the University of Karhad.”
“You want to… work at the university?” I resisted the urge to rub my eyes. “Teaching…?”
“Law.” The big man’s mouth sloped across to one side. “I was about to finish my second doctorate before HEX.”
I blinked a couple of times.
“Security, Conflict and Human Rights. Focus on child welfare,” he added, helpfully.
“Well. Sure. I think we can arrange something.” I was about to propose some kind of Barbarian Harvard idea when the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Suri strode in ahead of Taethawn, Zlaslo, and Kitti. When Kon saw Suri, his eyes got very big and very dark. He sniffed, straightened up, and dusted off his loincloth.
“Hey there, partner.” Suri kissed me on the cheek, the turned to the group of Starborn and shook hands with each person. “Suri Ba’hadir, Voivodzina of Myszno. You’re the players we booked to handle some of our Kingdom Quests, right?”
“Yes. Yes ma’am.” Kon cleared his throat, shooting me a beady-eyed glance. I grinned back at him, making sure to show fangs. “Lady Ba’hadir, the tales o
f your great beauty have-”
“Oh, knock it off, mate. I appreciate it and all, but I don’t know you from Adam.” Suri brushed him off, shaking hands with Nethres next. “Don’t know if I recognize you, either.”
“Nethres. Just Nethres.” She gripped Suri’s hand firmly. “A Valkyrie of Gilheim.”
“Can always welcome more strong arms into Myszno.” Suri smiled at Kon, who was still trying to scowl despite his red cheeks, and then at Nethres. “Now, sorry to break this up, but Hector and I just got back from a big mass combat and we need to get ready for an appointment with His Majesty.”
“If you can handle the prep for that, Nethres and I need to catch up in private about our time in Ilia,” I said. “I know her from way back. We met at dragon school.”
“Yeah. I was wiped out in the first round of Trials,” Nethres added, her slow eyes shifting to me.
“Ooh, do you know what’s really happening in Ilia, then?” Kylirra’s tail curled into a curious arch. “I’ve heard so many horrible stories.”
“Nah. We just need to catch up about some old friends,” I lied. “By the way, if you guys are interested, there is actually a decent-sized quest that needs handling. There’s been reports of monsters and bandits in the ruins of Karhad University, and we can’t rebuild it until they’ve been thrown out. How do you feel like teaming up to handle it?”
“Sure. Seems like a good way to settle in and build some Renown.” White Max nodded in time with his clones.
“I approve,” Kylirra said, squinting happily. “Can’t wait for those university taverns to open back up!”
“Yes. I accept this challenge.” Kon gave me a curt bow of his head. “Issue the quest.”
I went into the KMS, found The Vaunted Halls of Karhad University, and assigned it to them. “Done.”
“Excellent. We will destroy these monsters and bandits.” Kon cracked his knuckles, sneering on one side of his mouth. “And after the university is rebuilt, I will teach from a lectern adorned with their skulls.”
Chapter 29
There was a time difference of three hours between Myszno and Taltos, the capital city in the province of the same name. That meant there was a bit of wiggle room to sit down with Nethres and find out what she knew—and why she was here to begin with.
“You sure this place is private?” She asked, once we took our seats in the Ducal Suit. The place was looking bare: volunteers had already stripped out the images of Bolza and his family, as well as all the green and silver furnishings. “No way that Hyland could spy on us?”
“It’s as private as we can make it. Why?” I gave Rudolph a nod of thanks as he set down a Turkish coffee set on the table between us. The seat I’d had her take put her back to the door and gave me the best position to find cover, just in case. Nethres hadn’t ever struck me as being the kind to lie or randomly PK people, but you never knew.
“Hard to explain.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line, watching my butler as he discreetly, but efficiently left through the door to the suit and locked the two-way deadbolt from the outside.
“Don’t worry, okay? Rudolph is basically a walking picture of discretion.” I said, once silence had settled over the room. “How’s things been?”
“Difficult. I couldn’t say any of this when were in the hall, but I came here for more than one reason.” She picked up her little cup of foamy coffee and looked down it. “I’ve been on the run for about five months. From Baldr, Lucien, and Violetta. Baldr rules Ilia. Lucien runs his army. Violetta manages the Mata Argis, the Ilian secret service. The Mata Argis are after me.”
“Why?”
She regarded me steadily. “After I picked up the Valkyrie class in Gilheim, I returned to Ilia and joined the resistance.”
My eyes widened. “There’s a resistance?”
“Yes. The Kingsmen.” Nethres nodded. “Some players. Mostly NPCs. The prince who was deposed in the Ilian Revolution is now an adult, and he leads the biggest cell of partisans. He’s in Revala right now, doing what he can to stop Lucien and the dragons. Prince Illandi made me a captain. I came here on his behalf. A longshot, I figured, asking you for help.”
“Not that long of a shot,” I said, taking the top off my coffee. “We’ve been fighting Baldr-slash-Ororgael since before I fled the Eyrie.”
“I don’t know how you escaped. From everything I’ve heard, the Order was some kind of trap. But I saw your dragon.” For the very first time, Nethres smiled—an expression that reached her hazel eyes and warmed them from grey to green. “She’s beautiful.”
“She is, and it was. And Baldr isn’t Baldr anymore.” I shook my head. “He got hijacked by the digital ghost of Michael Pratt, a senior developer who worked in Ryuko’s military and civilian divisions on the game’s A.I. Goes by the name ‘Ororgael’ in Archemi. He’s using Baldr’s body, but Baldr as we know him is functionally dead.”
“A dev? That would make a lot of sense.” Nethres gave a tense nod. “He’s killed players, as in, really killed them. Several players. If he knew where I was, he’d kill me.”
“How?” I set my cup down, watching her intently.
“I don’t know what it is. Some kind of sword. There’s only one of them.” Nethres drew a deep breath. “Lucien called it the ‘Godslayer’. Looks like some kind of laser sword, almost. I’ve only seen it at a distance.”
The Turkish coffee, normally aromatic and mellow and delicious, felt like it’d left a coating of ash in my mouth. “I’ve seen that sword. He dueled me with it.”
“You’re lucky to be alive.” The corners of Nethres’ mouth sloped. “He publicly executed three players in Liren. Beheaded them, right in the middle of the city. One of them was a murderhobo who went on a killing spree. One was just a rogue, a woman who pissed him off for some reason. The third was one of ours, in the Resistance. His name was Pravoslav.”
“Fuck. I remember him. He was with us in the Trials. Big guy, accent east of Germany somewhere.”
“He was Slovak. A refugee from the Bloc to the UNAC.” Nethres nodded. “Baldr killed him. He didn’t respawn. His PMs disappeared. Any dynamic information about him was corrupted.”
I slumped back into my seat, digesting the news. For one thing, it erased any lingering doubt in my mind that Ororgael needed to die. For another, why the fuck hadn’t Ororgael killed ME?
“If he’s an admin, that’d be how he got his hands on the Godslayer,” Nethres said. “Rumor has it there’s some temporary player-killer weapons like that that were left over from admin playtesting, but they vanish after a couple of hours.”
“Who did you hear that from?” I asked.
“Another admin. His name is Jamil,” Nethres said. “He’s also in the resistance. Keeps to himself, and he hasn’t ever said anything about a Michael or Ororgael, but he briefed us on what to do if we ran into someone with an Admin Test weapon. Several players were too scared to stay with us, and left the resistance to hide.”
“Sheesh. Guess he doesn’t want to panic people by telling them what’s going on.” I clicked my tongue. “I’m guessing Casper was one of the players who ran.”
“No. He’s worse.” Nethres’ expression turned stormy, and she crossed her arms. “He works for Violetta. The Mata Argis bitch. He was spying on us for her. He’d have turned me in if he’d gotten the chance.”
“Well, fuck.” I scowled. “He was in Dakhdir only a week or so ago, pretending to be working for the Morning Stars. They’re rebels, trying to reinstate an ancient royal lineage on the throne.”
“Tsch.” Nethres rolled her eyes. “After he dumped me and ran from the Trials, he went and became a bandit. At some point—I don’t know when—Violetta recruited him. Forcibly or not, I don’t know. He weaseled his way into the Kingsmen by playing on our friendship.”
“She probably recruited him at the point of the Godslayer,” I said. “Ororgael trusts her more than he does Lucien.”
“Yeah. That’s the consensus in the resis
tance,” Nethres replied. “Mind you, I’d trust a rabid raccoon more than I’d trust Lucien. Lucien’s sick. He’s raped, tortured and murdered his way across Ilia and Revala. Uses the dragons to kill people—NPCs—and worse. I’ve got lots of stories, none of them good.”
“It’s fine. I don’t need to know the details. I saw enough of that shit in the war.” Grimacing, I pushed the rest of my coffee away. “I always knew he was fucked in the head. Believe me, if I ever get my hands on that Godslayer weapon, he’ll be the first to go. Ororgael will be second, and then I’ll throw the damn thing into a volcano.”
“You’d do that?” Nethres frowned, suddenly uncertain. “Kill them?”
I straightened up in my chair. “Taking them out of action is my primary goal. We’re living in what amounts to a closed vault with roughly two thousand immortal player characters. That’s two thousand people who MUST live together in the same little virtual world. If I could shoot Ororgael, Violetta and Lucien into space and send them to another planet, I would. But we can’t, and they’ve made it very clear that they don’t want to share. People like that don’t just ‘get better’, and if we can’t imprison them, the only solution is to put them down.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong. Just surprised by your confidence.” Nethres shrugged. “I don’t think I could really kill someone, even after learning how to fight.”
“It’s a trained skill, not a talent.” I shrugged. “The War taught me that there’s some people that just have to die, and Ororgael and Lucien are two of those people.”
“And Violetta?” Nethres asked.
“She’s not right in the head, but something about her is different,” I said. “She was a nice person when I first met her. Ordinary, kind of bubbly and friendly. But now, it’s like something sucked the soul out of her. I want to help her if it’s possible. The only alternative is euthanasia.”
Nethres considered that for a minute or two. “Yeah. I don’t remember her from the Trials.”
“She barely made it past the first round,” I said. “Came back to the camp clinging to her last HP.”
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