Black Hat

by Domino Finn

  I surveyed the Circus grounds. It sure didn't look like a guarantee, though. Despite our numbers, Tannen had been making the most out of his. Some of the same catechists that had been killed two or three times were still fighting. Many of the good guys were spent. Conan was trampled on the floor. Glinda got a last healing push to Lash before succumbing to her injuries. Even the white knight was being overwhelmed.

  Blaring horns announced a new arrival. Instead of coming from the city gates, they came from just outside the Circus. Combatants on both sides turned their heads to see where momentum would swing next.

  I drained spirit and health flasks down my throat and wiped my lips. "Dandy timing," I muttered, and turned to the new threat.

  The city watch marched to both sides of the Circus entrance and left a path for the distinguished guests, just as I'd instructed them to. Without needing to fight his way into Stronghold, the warden of the Blackwood strolled into the Circus grounds, hefting his axe.

  1050 Breath of the Wild

  The eight-foot brute plodded forward like a siege engine. He wore mismatched armor and strips of blackened leather in patchwork protection. The executioner's axe was worn and tinged with rust, but had a bright edge where it had recently been sharpened. It was an intimidating weapon, though not his only one. Dark chains hung from his body and snaked along the ground like living entities.

  Most striking atop an overbearing persona, though, was the simple black hood masking his identity. Two white eyes glowed from the eye holes.

  "Pagan abomination!" swore a priest in white. He charged Hood, white fire on his fists. The executioner's axe swung like a blur. The catechist's head flew high into the stands, leaving the body sprinting several more yards before it had the sense to fall. The seething crowd was silenced.

  "Talon," growled the man in black. "It is time for you to surrender your soul."

  I stood defiantly above the skirmish as Errol and Trafford climbed the steps to join me. The pirate leaned close.

  "Why do ye have that look on yer face as if ye knew this was happenin'?"

  Trafford chuckled. "He's savvy for a pirate, I'll give him that."

  Behind the warden, a line of Blackwood prisoners followed. They were a ragtag band of goblins, humans, and otherwise. Stripped of both their independence and individuality, the only thing they shared in common were their black hoods with missing eyeholes.

  I'd expected as much. The warden always had some prisoners on hand. What caught me completely off guard was the lean bare-chested figure with ropy muscles who followed. He wore a mask of dried leaves that resembled a domino mask, tan hair clipped short behind. A tattoo of a black deer skull dominated his chest, antlers stretching from shoulder to shoulder.

  I stretched my jaw. "I need to watch who I invite to these things."

  "Why?" asked Errol. "Who be that one?"

  "It's the wild king."

  Wildkins without hoods marched behind him. The free people of the Blackwood. They looked like humans wearing wild clothes. Nothing more, nothing less. And there were a lot of them. I hadn't expected the whole nation to answer my summons.

  The king stopped and surveyed the crowd. "Tiding, tidings to the white city."

  Izzy: Talon, what the hell is he doing here?

  Players and NPCs rustled on either side of the procession. The city watch remained at the entry gates, but one man rushed in. Gladius wore steel-banded armor with a gold helmet and a red cape.

  "The wild king is a guest in Stronghold," he decreed. "Freely allowed through the gates on the word of the Protector of Stronghold."

  "A debt, a debt," recited the king. "Payment is due."

  I gritted my teeth. Of all my stupid plans, this one took the cake. I cleared my throat and stepped forward.

  "No one else has to die," I announced. "The bishop is dead. I'm gifting the wild king his crown back. I'm abandoning the quest, null and void."

  I opened my menu to the quest status, trying to angle my screen so others could see.

  Dethrone the Wild King

  Abandon quest?

  I killed it and turned to Trafford.

  "Aye," he agreed. "We won't be used as catechist pawns anymore."

  The wild king watched, amused, then turned to his bodyguard. "What say thee, warden?"

  The giant grunted. "All that remains is a crown and a soul."

  I grimaced. This was a long time coming. I patted my friends on the shoulder and descended the platform. The crowd gave way, forming a path between Hood and me. I approached him, dragging the dragonspear in the dirt.

  Errol and Trafford were on me like glue. The shopkeeper raised his arquebus. Black chains reached along the ground and lashed out, knocking the weapon from his hands. Before the pirate jumped into action, I held them both back.

  "No," I urged. "This is a fight I started days ago. It doesn't concern either of you. I need to take it on alone."

  They stared hard, but they listened. When I turned to the executioner, they didn't follow.

  Izzy: Talon! What are you doing?

  Talon: I'm sorry, Izzy. The truth is I don't know half the time.

  Izzy: Come back to Dragonperch. You'll be safe.

  Izzy: There's gotta be a hot tub upgrade or something in here, right?

  I worked my jaw. That sounded real good right about now. It really did.

  Talon: I wish I could.

  I lifted the spear and faced the warden of the Blackwood. "It's about time we did this, huh?"

  His white eyes narrowed.

  Cackling came from the mass behind me. A flurry of priests fanned away from the bishop's body, now alight with golden fire. He raised gauntleted fists to the air, lifted by invisible hands to a standing position. His jaw gaped, revealing a row of small teeth.

  Kyle: WHOA! He did NOT just do that. Hold up. Don't do anything till I get more popcorn.

  I looked at Errol quizzically, who still had the crosscut helm in his inventory. He shrugged like it wasn't his fault.

  Tannen was a sight without his helmet. His head was unnaturally bald, his face lined with veins. Skin stretched thin against sharp cheekbones as his eyes shone ever bright. "My power," he boasted, "comes not from an artifact, but from the White King himself." He regarded the parade of wildkins with a snort. "So, you're in collusion with a bunch of savages as well."

  All around us, dead priests and knights scurried to their feet. Hood growled under his breath.

  Tannen chuckled. "The warden of the Blackwood. Quite a specimen you are. You must be pleased to see your new ruler."

  The wild king's eyes narrowed.

  Tannen feigned surprise. "Why, do you not see before you the man who wears the mantle? I am the Ruler of the Blackwood, not this pagan pretender. But worry not, you can have Talon's soul. I just need his weapon."

  The bishop marched toward me with a contingent of priests. The wildkins watched without objection. Trafford scrambled for his arquebus. Errol swiped at the nearest priest. Tannen fired a golden beam from his bronze gauntlet and battered the pirate to the ground.

  Catechists bearing down on us, I swung the spear, high then low. I swept heads and feet clear, but I couldn't stop the golden light. It washed over me too. I stumbled. A knight wearing catechist colors impaled Trafford clean through his heart. The old man fell to the floor, dead. Tannen's eyes lit up as he brought his hands together.

  Lash swooped in with her cleaver, bringing it down like a sledgehammer. It snapped his collarbone clean through and dug deep into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. He screamed in agony but fought through it, clutching the white knight with both bronze gauntlets. A surge of hot electricity ran through them, steam and smoke and searing pain. I shook off my own hurt and clawed to my feet against battering swords. A small explosion stalled our combat.

  Lash lay on the ground, smoking. She'd sacrificed her experience points—halfway to level 9—just to buy me some time. I didn't have a good shot, but I had to take it. I dashed ahead, a sword biting into
my knee as I did, and hefted the spear toward the bishop.

  His good arm battered my deadshot to the side. Tannen tried to yank the spear away, but I held it with both arms. Instead he released it and kicked me to the floor. I rolled from a follow-up punch but only partially avoided it. I hit the dirt, still clutching my legendary weapon.

  Tannen laughed, held a hand high, and washed himself with healing energy. Full health again. Shoulder good as new.

  Caduceus lunged. He battered her down. Silver arrows clanged off his armor. One punched into his arm. A bronze hand slapped a headshot from the air. The gauntlet turned on the distant ranger. Dune's green cloak weaved between spectators but the energy blast connected and tripped him up. Errol was up again. His rapier flew under the bishop's guard and connected, but bronze clamped around his neck. I charged and Tannen threw Errol into me. The collision took us both down.

  Amid our struggles just to regain our feet, Tannen screeched a battle cry. Familiar golden energy erupted outward from his body. It hit everyone and everything, friend and foe alike, and blasted us all to the ground with impressive efficiency. I rolled in searing pain within a large crater. Errol had just enough life to chug a health potion, but I had already spent my one for the day.

  This was crazy. Tannen was superpowered now. Whether due to repeatedly dying or finally acquiring his faction, something had clicked loose in his head. Not only was he insane—he was taking us all down.

  The warden's heavy leather boots stomped close. His shadow fell over me. Once again I forced myself to my feet, wincing through the pain.

  "That is my kill, warden," interrupted Tannen. He had the gall to place a bronze hand on the giant's chest. "You will learn to serve your new ruler faithfully. Witness what happens to those who don't."

  I grunted. "Witness it yourself." I summoned the last of my energy and raised the dragonspear.

  Tannen snorted and batted the legendary weapon to the side. He decked me. "Don't embarrass yourself. You're—"

  A black chain clinked around the bishop's neck. His upraised arm was tied up in another. Tannen whirled on Hood, swung a heavy fist, but the giant leaned away from the blow. The warden swatted Tannen's punches away with the axe as the chains lifted the bishop off the ground. Their faces met inches from each other.

  Hood growled. "He is mine."

  Tannen clutched the chain with his free hand, eyes going wide. It reminded me of Saint Peter at the noose. He strained against the wildkin's strength, but it was too much. "Yes," he conceded. "Fine. Take him."

  The black chains snapped away and the bishop landed on his feet. The executioner turned to me on the ground and said, "You see, Talon. There is no need for others to die."

  "Feel free to make an exception for him," I muttered. I tried to tug the dragonspear to me. Tannen clamped a metal boot on it. He had it pinned.

  "You are the one," grumbled the warden, eyes on me. "Pagans hate you more than any other in Stronghold." He stepped closer.

  I wanted to crawl backward, but I couldn't leave the dragonspear. Tannen showed his teeth as his men surrounded Errol, now disarmed. "It's over, Talon."

  "No," I hurried. "I'm not an enemy of the pagans."

  The warden didn't relent. "Your notoriety says otherwise."

  I shook my head in desperation, denial more than anything pragmatic. "You're wildkins, not pagans. Your king told me himself."

  Tannen scoffed. "Open your eyes, Talon. Pagans are pagans. They are what they are."

  The executioner lifted his axe.

  "You can think for yourself," I blurted out. "Lucifer's hack gave NPCs and mobs free will. That's why your king broke away from the horde. He no longer wanted to be governed by numbers."

  Hood's voice scraped. "Your numbers are the accumulation of bad deeds."

  He had me there. I hadn't glanced at my reputation score in forever—it stopped mattering a long time ago—but I did now.

  Pagan Reputation: -950

  It wasn't bottomed out at -1000 anymore.

  I threw a hand up. "Wait! What about the good I've done?" I displayed my reputation score for others to see, though Hood must've known it already. "While visiting Shorehome I defended a helpless mother and child. Goblins. I was awarded reputation for the good I did. My eyes are open now. There's more yet to come." I swept my gaze across the players, NPCs, and mobs in attendance. "There's what the game wants us to do, and what we actually do. We don't need to be at war. We're in control. We can be our own change."

  Tannen smiled cruelly. "Haven has seen enough of your deeds, Talon."

  I sneered upwards, refusing to release the spear from my grip. "And what of yours, Bishop? When we first met, you bragged about killing pagans for years. You displaced them, tortured them, hunted them. What's your pagan rep?"

  "Indeed." The warden cocked his hooded head. "Curious..."

  "No," snapped Tannen. "He's the one you want."

  I studied the bishop anew. NPCs didn't have visible levels, but now that we were in opposing factions, I could see his reputation.

  Pagan Reputation: -1000

  "No," he repeated. "He's the one who stole your crown."

  "You're the one who holds it," Hood countered.

  "Take it." Tannen produced the stag skull. "Give me the dragonspear and I'll hand you the crown." His eyes scrunched cruelly as he conspired with the warden. "You can hold the crown. You can be the king."

  I sat up, head clearing as the two men faced off. But they faded to the background when I focused on the true power here.

  "Theoderic," I called out, addressing the wild king by his true name. "You've entered Stronghold in peace. The city watch welcomed you. I welcome you."

  Everyone's eyes turned to the lean ruler. He didn't grace us with a reply, but he watched on with half a smile.

  I cleared my throat. "I have more good deeds to accomplish. Starting with this one." I scrolled through the faction menu and selected an armistice with the pagans. "I am Stronghold's Protector, but I can't speak for its people. I can, however, speak for my faction. We'll withdraw hostilities against peaceful pagans."

  "A useless gesture," Tannen snickered. "That won't last more than a week."

  "We'll try," I assured. "You have my word."

  "The word of a thief."

  The Wild King laughed lightly. "Withdraw, withdraw."

  Pagan Reputation +100

  Tannen spun to Hood. "Don't listen to him. I am your Ruler."

  The warden didn't move.

  Tannen read the crowd. Saw the eyes of the wildkins turn on him. The bishop lifted a bronze gauntlet above to strike me down.

  An axe cleaved his arm off.

  Tannen spun around in shock. The executioner attempted to reverse his swing for a finishing blow, but the bishop still had one good arm. The bronze gauntlet slammed into Hood's chest with cataclysmic force. The impact battered him backward into a stumble.

  Tannen still stood on my dragonspear. I considered prying it out from under him, but I realized the bishop was entirely occupied with the warden. Perfect opportunity for a surprise.

  "If I can't kill you..." I muttered. I sprang to my feet and triggered subdue.

  I wrapped the bishop in a headlock and squeezed. My intent wasn't to do damage, but I hadn't bothered to think through exactly what would happen. Surely if the skill hadn't been an automatic knockout against a random guard, it didn't stand a chance against Tannen. But I held on tight and the bishop's knees wobbled.

  The second he dropped to his knees, I jumped off his back and scooped up the dragonspear. As he turned, I dashed along the ground and plunged the object he so earnestly desired right into his chest. The bronze gauntlet clamped onto the dragonspear, preventing me from driving it deeper.

  Hood stepped close and released a throaty growl, this time targeted at Tannen. "Bishop, I follow my king not because of a crown. My oath is more than a symbol." He glanced at me. "More than a number." He heaved his axe high.

  The bishop's mouth opened in a
boisterous cackle, spittle dribbling down his lips. "Fools. You cannot kill me."

  The axe fell hard on Tannen's head and he slumped to the ground.

  [Bishop Tannen] is dead!

  The entirety of the Circus couldn't drown out my heavy breathing. That's how quiet it was. We stared on as a faint glow built over the bishop's body.

  "He's right," I said. "He doesn't die."

  "I do not seek death," said the warden. "I seek compliance."

  From a sack on his waist, the executioner withdrew a black hood. As Tannen's head healed and reformed, the executioner slipped a prisoner hood over it. The golden light exploded and the bishop hopped up, good as new. Then he lowered his head and humbly joined the ranks of the rest of the hooded prisoners.

  "His soul belongs to the Blackwood."

  All the present catechists fled from the Circus. The city watch followed to make sure they left the city.

  "Wait," I said, using the shaft of the dragonspear to prop myself up. I trudged over to what remained of the bishop. The blank hood faced me expectantly. He was alive, but I wasn't so sure Tannen was in there anymore. "I need the soulstone."

  Since none of the prisoner hoods had eyeholes, Tannen's golden eyes were impossible to read. But the head swiveled to the warden. The big man in turn did the same toward another. King Theoderic pressed his lips together and nodded. The prisoner complied by handing over the Eye of Orik.