Black Hat (Afterlife Online Book 2)

by Domino Finn

  "I thought the wildkins didn't align with them? You weren't part of the siege."

  "The wild king desires not conquest or bloodletting. Our faction ties were thrust upon us, but they are there nonetheless. That is why you violated the Blackwood, broke into the Black Keep, and stole the crown of the wild king. To your kind, a pagan is a pagan. The die is cast. No other soul will suffice."

  I hissed. How many times can a guy be rejected? Not a single thing had gone right today. "If you're gonna come for me anyway, what's the point of handing the crown over?" I snatched the stag skull from the gate. The executioner's axe clanged against it in warning.

  "Metal and stone cannot keep me out," he boomed.

  "You can't get into Stronghold," I scoffed. "You said it yourself. The pagan faction was thrust upon you. Pagans can't breach the city."

  The warden seemed to smile beneath the hood. "That protection has been circumvented before."

  I narrowed my eyes. After we'd first stolen the crown and entered the city, Hood had stayed out. He'd waited until the Shorehome expedition to ambush us. That was because the Eye of Orik protected Stronghold from pagan incursion.

  But that protection had failed before, when Lucifer had stolen the soulstone for himself. The blessing against pagans only applied when the Eye of Orik was under saintly control. And now, with it in Tannen's possession, all bets were off.

  Was there really just inches of steel between me and the warden of the Blackwood?

  "You can come in, can't you?" I asked in awe, backing away from the gate.

  "And when I do," he growled, "the lives that are cut down by my axe will be on your conscience."

  My conscience. Damn my conscience. That's what had gotten me to expose the stag crown in the first place. Now Hood knew exactly where I was, and he didn't just want my blood, he wanted my soul.

  "There's that dogged determination rearing its head," I snapped. "You want a fight, Hood? You've got one."

  I stuffed the crown of the wild king back in the bag of satin. The ogre howled and leapt at the river gate. Even as tall as he was, he had to hang on or be submerged. I stuffed his king's crown into my inventory and hopped into the river myself.

  "Sorry, big guy, but I've got a ceremony to attend. You and the wild king wanna clean up and throw on some duds? We could all crash the party. We'll be the guests of honor."

  "This is a foolish mistake," he warned.

  "And I don't like your attitude. I'll put the crown in the king's hand, no one else." I swam away and the warden bitterly howled.

  "I'm coming for you, human. I'll not rest until you are mine!"

  For all his talk, the upgraded steel bars were a fortification even he couldn't breach. I left him there, raging into the water and the wind.

  1010 Dawn of War

  I stood at the southern edge of Oldtown, surveying Dragonperch from a distance. The priests were fixed in constant prayer, holding a ring of torches. Eerie light danced around the holy men. I imagined I could see the answers to those prayers in the form of a reflective sheen around the tower. This blockade of theirs... I wasn't sure what it was doing but it wasn't good.

  Not that it mattered. My friends were stuck inside, but I'd slipped the trap.

  I opened party chat and saw previous messages attempting to reach me.

  Kyle: What's the word, bro?

  Izzy: Any news?

  Izzy: Talon?

  At least the priest blockade didn't prevent player communication. Even though their messages were from hours ago, I tried them.

  Talon: Sorry, guys. I fell asleep.

  Maybe they had too. It took a minute, but they answered.

  Izzy: You what?

  Talon: I know it sounds crazy, but I'm sneaking around out here, huddled in the dark. I've tried enlisting help from literally everybody, but I don't know what else to do. Tannen's holding some kind of important ceremony at first light.

  Kyle: More hangings? Been there, done that.

  Talon: No idea, but this feels like something else. Something he doesn't want us around for. I have to be there.

  Izzy: We're still on lockdown until the afternoon.

  Talon: That's exactly why I have no choice. I have to go alone.

  Izzy: Talon...

  Talon: I'll keep in touch and give you updates. It's the only way.

  I stared at the blank chat prompt, but there wasn't much else to say. It did get me thinking about other players I'd neglected to touch base with. I swiped to my DMs and reread Dune's message. He'd been concerned about town events days ago, before trouble was even on my radar. I knew he'd be on my side, if he was still in the city. I fired off a quick email explaining the situation. I doubted he was awake now, but the whole town would be getting up within the hour for the big show.

  That gave me some time to make final preparations. I checked in with Trafford. Sent a few members of the watch to coordinate with Gladius. Some of the players in Hillside were early risers, likely concerned with the day's events. I let them see me in the streets. Let them know I was going to fight for them.

  Then I passed by the Pantheon. With all their machinations getting this whole shebang started, the saints had been conspicuously absent of late. The priest blockade only explained part of it, because even Grimwart hadn't seen them. If I was gonna get the players to fight with me, I needed Saint Peter to lift the citywide combat ban. If that didn't happen I was dead in the water.

  I grimaced at what I encountered. The Pantheon was under heavy guard—a contingent of knights and priests that rivaled the showing at Dragonperch. No prayer circle, but plenty of might to keep the saints in and me out.

  There was nothing I could do. My eyes ran up the impressive Corinthian columns to the Golden Angels frozen at their summits. The in-game security system was meant only to prevent players from unbalancing the game. When they were designed years ago, the devs had never expected Tannen and his crew of NPCs to be doing just that. Of course, Kablammy hadn't counted on Lucifer giving the otherwise well-behaving NPCs free will.

  My gaze lingered on the two columns with missing angels. Lucifer's new pack. Much of this was the fallen one's doing. It scared me to think of what use he was putting them to.

  I grunted as the sun peeked through the alley. First light. I was out of time. I cursed and turned my back on the Pantheon.

  This was bound to be a difficult morning.

  As I headed along the main thoroughfare, thick lines filed into the entrance of the Circus. Players, NPCs. Priests, crusaders. Stronghold and Shorehome residents alike. I saw some friendly faces but there were enough threatening ones that I stayed out of sight.

  Then, like a snap, the streets were empty. The grand event was about to start. Everyone was in place. Past the Circus, I spotted the guards at the west gate and atop the wall. The gate was open, of course. Stronghold wasn't locked down by default, and the city watch never shirked their duties. Their number was bolstered by crusaders, of course—Tannen wasn't stupid enough to leave the watch with sole control of the gates—but there were enough good guys around for me to work.

  From across the road, I flagged down a watchman. He hid his surprise and casually checked if the crusaders had noticed. Seeing they hadn't, he marched over. I gave him a warning of what to expect. He tensed nervously but nodded and returned to his post.

  I smiled. It was almost as if we had a chance.

  The sun fully broke over the city. Morning was here. Inside the Circus, the audience's eagerness transitioned to hoots and hollers and roars as Tannen no doubt showed himself. I could practically feel his smug grandeur from the other side of the wall. After the crowd quieted he confirmed his presence by addressing them.

  I twisted my lips thinking of the gallows within. No part of this confrontation wasn't risky. Sometimes the first step was the hardest.

  I set my dragonspear against the ground and strolled down the empty thoroughfare, in full view of any onlookers. The crusaders at the Circus entrance turned their heads l
azily.

  "You're late, citizen. The bishop's—" He stiffened as he realized who he was addressing.

  I smirked. "Stand aside, knight. I'm wanted within."

  "Yer wanted, all right," said the second one, hand tightening around his sword.

  I lifted the dragonspear to his neck, poking the tip just under his helmet. He froze.

  "I assume you know what this weapon is?" I asked.

  He nodded nervously.

  "Then you know what I can do with it. And you also know the bishop wants it. Do you really want to stop me from going in there?"

  His helmet swiveled to his companion.

  I sighed and drew the spear away, planting it in the dirt. The crusaders weren't sure if they could move. I spoke solemnly.

  "The dragonspear isn't just a deadly weapon. It bestows on me a mantle. A duty. What has Colonel Grimwart taught you about duty, knights?"

  The two men traded another glance. Their weapon hands relaxed. Their helmets sagged.

  I nodded confidently. "Then stand aside and watch the Protector of Stronghold work." I brushed past them and emerged into the Circus to wild cheers.

  1020 Royal Rumble

  Take your best shot. That's what people say. It doesn't need to be a fight. Talk, subterfuge, truce—there are many ways to achieve victory. But if it comes to it, if you need to get dirty and risk life and limb, if you need to fight—take your best shot.

  I had a bunch of shots. Various gambits that might swing the tide in my favor or end with disastrous consequences. The thing was, I wasn't free to take any of those shots yet. The city watch was under orders. The saints were under guard. I was marked for death by the warden of the Blackwood. The crusaders wouldn't turn on their own. And players were unable to engage in town combat. It was all a delicate house of cards, the foundation for Tannen's supremacy. I just needed to figure out how to budge one of them to get everything tumbling down.

  So yeah, I had a plan. I had lots of plans, actually. I'd schemed and planned as much as could be expected in an occupied city. Now was the time to get the cogs turning. To start knocking some heads—knocking some cards—loose.

  Now was the time to act.

  Bishop Tannen stood triumphantly on the gallows stage, hands raised magnanimously as he gave a rehearsed speech.

  "The sun shines on a new day in Stronghold. A new era of leadership."

  Gasps from the crowd announced my presence. Tannen caught sight of the lone figure intruding on his show. A line of crusaders at the base of the platform tensed.

  "You're no leader," I called out. "You're a dictator."

  Tannen's eyes went wide behind the crosscut helmet. He was a regal figure. Plate armor with flowing white robes. The gold cross on his tunic was more ornamental than others. It had sweeping lines that glittered with genuine specks of gold. A small gold cape rested on his shoulders. The star of the show, however, was the golden cross affixed to the top of his full helm. If there was ever an artifact that gave Tannen his power, it was that.

  Of course, his political power came from the Eye of Orik, the soulstone the city was founded upon. That had to be on his person because it was nowhere in sight.

  Behind the propriety of his regal dress, the bishop's face twisted in rage. He mocked me in his nasally voice. "Talon, the Betrayer of Stronghold. How thoughtful of you to join these proceedings. After all, new heroes can only be born after the old ones are hung out to dry."

  "I'm giving you one last chance," I proclaimed loudly. "Gather your people and go back to Oakengard. If you refuse, you'll fall, along with your twisted cause."

  The bishop snorted. It must be easy to act brave on an elevated platform behind a line of crusaders. There was a crowd of men, too, sharing the stage. Priests and crusaders standing together in a huddle. I sidestepped to get a glimpse of Saint Peter among them.

  "My cause," spouted the bishop, "is to protect the people of Oakengard, Stronghold, and soon, Shorehome, from all manner of cursed ilk. Pagans, devils, and those they collude with." He sneered gleefully at me with his last words.

  I swallowed, wondering what exactly he had planned.

  Kyle: What a total douchebag.

  Talon: What? You guys can see this?

  Kyle: You're on the flat-screen, bro. I guess the bishop didn't want anyone to miss this.

  I scanned the setting for cameras, but I realized I wouldn't see them. This was a simulation. Game cameras didn't need to be rendered. They didn't need to be physical objects at all, for that matter. I refocused on Tannen and his accusations.

  "I am no champion of Lucifer," I announced, "but he has freed the minds of every NPC in Haven. Do you not understand that your very actions—your very choices—are only possible because of him?"

  Tannen spat through the vertical opening of his helmet.

  I chortled derisively. "The irony is doubled when you consider that you would never dream of freeing those who serve you. You're worse than the devil you slander."

  Audible gasps broke the tension, but were they directed at me or Tannen? Was I really defending Lucifer? In my haste to cast Tannen in a bad light, I wasn't exactly coming off sympathetically. Against as charismatic a speaker as the bishop, I needed to appeal to the people's more primal emotions. Tannen used fear and panache, but I preferred heart.

  "What are you doing with the saints?" I demanded.

  Tannen crossed his arms over his belt and pressed his lips together in thought. "You've spoiled my surprise." He nodded at the cluster of soldiers on stage. They stepped aside to reveal a handful of men wearing the iconic white robes of the saints. Peter and Loras, among others. "You didn't presume to be the guest of honor at this function, did you?"

  My jaw tightened as I saw the setup. Six saints lined up beside three nooses. It was like Tannen had said: out with the old, in with the new. The audience was stunned.

  "Release them at once," I ordered.

  "I have a better idea," he answered. "How about you join them?" He motioned for me and the troop of black tunics on the ground advanced.

  I twirled the dragonspear casually in my hand. "Any man that comes for me forfeits his life."

  "And women too?"

  I spun to see Lash advancing with a slew of priests. Her party members, Glinda and Conan, waited by the wall.

  Izzy: What a traitorous bitch.

  "Lash," I snapped in surprise. I quickly confirmed she was still level 8.

  "Halfway to level 9," she pointed out, guessing my thoughts. The white knight was a head taller than her company. "I warned you to stay out of this, Talon."

  "No." I shook my head. "You're not one of them."

  Her black tunic said otherwise. The black-on-white color scheme was a perfect fit for her. But the crusaders were warmongers and zealots. Lash wasn't the same, was she?

  "You can't fight," I said flatly. "It's not wartime. I'm the only player who can fight in the city."

  "That much is true." With the cleaver still hanging on her back, Lash cast a rallying spell. A yellow glow washed over the localized priests and crusaders.

  Bolstered Legion!

  Allies within the active radius are granted 20% physical damage resistance.

  The white knight shook her head in grim determination. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

  I gritted my teeth. "My mom always said I was hardheaded."

  She shrugged as the NPCs advanced. I spun my weapon to the oncoming soldiers. This was madness. One of Stronghold's own, fighting for the bishop. If he had significant player and NPC support, this would turn into a civil war.

  I feinted a few times to keep them at bay, but I couldn't dance forever. They came from all sides, forcing me to take action. I scored a headshot on one, a deadshot on another. Slashed a few more before dashing out of the scrum and hitting them from behind. They kept coming. A sword found my back. Another, my leg. I killed a knight in return, but there was a whole force of them.

  "You can't win, Talon. You can still give up."
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  I fought back harder. When a few of them cut me at once, I triggered tornado spin and pushed them back. With the nerfed damage, it was just a stalling tactic.

  Suddenly a white aura overtook me.

  Greater Holy Light!

  For the next 30 seconds, you have the ability of Greater Regeneration.

  Lash and I scanned the rows of seating. Caduceus saluted from on high as her buff completed. A few rows back, Dune huddled under his bright green cloak. I turned back to the white knight.

  "It looks like I have friends too."

  I wasn't sure how Caduceus was able to manage the healing spell, but the buff was on par with some of the stronger healing I'd seen of the priests. My health bar maxed out in seconds and would continue to regenerate within the time limit. I struck out with renewed vigor, allowing myself to sustain hits where it translated to greater damage-dealing potential. Priests and knights fell before me, the home protection bonus of my legendary weapon overpowering Lash's damage resistance.

  But as several priests fell, Bishop Tannen's cross flared with golden light and they crawled back to their feet.

  "You guys are worse than zombies," I muttered.

  A gatehouse swung open and another contingent of crusaders swarmed in. Banging came from the opposite side of the Circus. Stigg's red robes fluttered as he slotted a beam across the second gate, effectively locking it. The knights behind that door pressed their weight against it. Stigg did too, to buy me time.

  Time would only help me so long. It was numbers I truly needed. And right now, Tannen's numbers were bearing down on me hard.

  "Ahoy, ya scurvy landlubbers!" cried Errol from the audience. He stood on the edge of the barrier wall, holding one of the ropes tied to the scaffolding. He leapt forward and swung right into the action, planting his boot against an onslaught of knights. They toppled over themselves and made easy targets for my spear. When the rope swung around again, Errol landed lightly beside me. "Figured ye could use a hand," he drawled.