The Crown and the Key

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “Abby, do you have another clan cloak?” I asked her. “With our crest, and, preferably, new.”

  “He wants a new cloak,” Abigail muttered, though she came back a couple minutes later with a good-looking gold cloak that looked more or less new.

  On the way back, I looked it over—it was a reputational item for Level 40 with a few attributes to boot. We should give everyone one of these.

  “Not b-bad,” Brother Yur said. “Looks great, v-very practical. Hassan will like it.”

  He took the scroll from me, and we stepped into the portal.

  Chapter Seven

  In which some pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place.

  Yet another castle. To be fair, “castle” might not have been the right word—it was a cliff that was apparently home to the world’s most famous assassins. The Tearful Goddess Order had a castle built out of a cliff, too, though theirs looked the part. It had a bridge wide enough for a military parade, too. In front of me was just a sheer rock wall, and only the entrance and the few people standing around it belied the fact that it was designed to host whoever was living inside. The people outside were dressed in picturesque outfits that looked like colorful kimonos, and I took them to be guards. Also, I wasn’t sure how to actually get to the entrance, since there was a wide chasm, the bottom of which I couldn’t see, between us and them.

  “Wait, how?” I looked at Brother Yur and jabbed a finger at the group of people that had clearly noticed us.

  “Wa-alking,” the treasurer replied laconically and, turning to the guards, called in their direction. “We’re here to see Sheik Hassan-n ibn Kemal, at h-his personal invitation!”

  I had to doubt that they could hear him—we were in the mountains, and a healthy distance away.

  “Wait there!” I heard them call back, and one of the colorfully dressed characters disappeared into the dark, yawning entrance.

  “There are p-places in the mountains with f-fun l-little acoustical niches,” Brother Yur said to me. “This is-s one of them, which is why they-y built th-their guest site here.”

  Acoustical? You live and learn.

  Soon, the guard and another NPC dressed in a black robe came back out.

  “Hassan-n will see us,” Brother Yur said. “That’s Tafir, his il-kebal.”

  “His what?” I asked, keeping my eye on the guards. They were talking with each other, and I wanted to see how we were going to get across the chasm. I also wondered how players came through with quests—we had an invitation, but they probably didn’t.

  “Il-kebal,” Brother Yur said again. “He’s o-one of his voices, the people Hass-ssan uses to give orders to his people. There a-are five of them, and each of them had to pa-ass seventy-seven trial-ls, kill a th-thousand people, and then kill one of the current voices in a d-duel or even without one.”

  “But he doesn’t look that old,” I replied, looking at the assassin. He was standing on the other side of the chasm watching us with his arms crossed.

  “That’s one of the children of Hassan-n. He s-selects the most beautiful women from the neighboring v-villages, pa-ays their parents, and has his b-best warriors sleep with them. If their i-intercourse results in a girl, sh-she just stays with the mother. If it’s a b-boy, he sends him to a secret school where he lives u-until he turns t-ten. And I’ll tell y-you this much—even those ten-year-olds are m-more dangerous at their young age th-than many a professional-l warrior. Whoever lives to the a-age of 10 is brought to the fortress, where th-they are forged into the bes-st blades of the Lord of the Cliff. Very few of them l-live to see the age of twenty.”

  “Is that what they call ibn Kemal? The Lord of the Cliff?”

  “Yes-s, that’s one of his names. He h-has many of them. So, anyway, the f-fact that that il-kebal-l over there lived to be the age he is now speak-ks to his quality as a fighter.”

  “Are they all like that here?” I looked admiringly at the figure standing, unmoving, at the edge of the chasm as if carved out of stone.

  “No, th-there are only four others like him,” Brother Yur said, eyes narrowing. “Ah-h, there’s the bridge.”

  From the depths of the chasm, almost out of nowhere, appeared a suspension bridge built with narrow boards and rope handrails. Sweet mother, there’s no way I would walk across that thing in real life. It was scary enough in the game…

  “So yes,” Brother Yur said as he stepped dauntlessly onto the bridge. “Most of the l-local dagger and rope s-specialists are the children of poor locals loy-yal to the sheik, along with some who c-came here of-f their own free will. What are you-u waiting for? The bridge will drop-p back down in two minutes.”

  Note!

  The bridge leading to Atarin Castle will not linger forever above the chasm. If you don’t hurry, you will find yourself at the bottom rather than in the castle.

  Seriously? I leaped forward after Brother Yur, whose calm strides had already taken him halfway across. He wasn’t even holding on to anything.

  When I finally got to the stones near the entrance on the other side of the bridge, cursing through my teeth, Brother Yur was talking something through with Tafir. Although to be fair, it wasn’t much of a conversation—the il-kebal was just nodding. Something whistled behind me, and I turned to see that the bridge was gone.

  “Let’s go, my f-friend,” Brother Yur said to me. “Hassan gave s-special orders for us, so we sh-shouldn’t m-make him wait.”

  Tafir headed toward the entrance and gestured for us to follow him. Brother Yur stepped in behind him, though I held back—I really didn’t like the look of the place. Nothing really stood out to me; it was just the gray cliff, the chasm, and the inscrutable looks on the faces of the guards. Taken altogether, it did a number on you.

  Atarin Castle, from which Sheik Hassan ibn Kemal and his invisible assassins decide the destiny of all those living in Rattermark. If the all-powerful head of the assassins decides that someone has lived long enough on this earth, their fate is sealed. Nothing can save you when…”

  And there I’d been thinking that it was just a simple location for assassins. But no, it was the seat of power for the arbiters of fate. Cool.

  It was probably one of the most austere fortresses I’d seen in the game. The corridors hewn out of rock were decorated with nothing more than the torches that burned every few steps. It was empty, too. During our ten-minute walk, we didn’t come across a single person.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked Brother Yur quietly.

  “They d-don’t just wander the corridors here,” he replied. “That’s not-t their custom, and it’s-s dangerous, t-too. Really, there isn’t anywhere e-else like th-this. On the one h-hand, it’s the most dangerous place in Rattermark, given the number of p-professional k-killers living here, though, o-on the other, it’s only here th-that you have nothing-g to fear so long as y-you’re a guest. A nice little paradox.”

  “Why is it dangerous?”

  “They-y sometimes release wild a-animals into these corridors,” Brother Yur said. “Plus, they h-have traps and all kinds-s of other things. It’s kept as c-close to combat condi-itions as possible to make sure the kids never l-let their guard down. That c-culls out incompetence, too—n-natural selection.”

  I wouldn’t have played an assassin no matter how much I was paid. How many players have died here? And they couldn’t only die there if they live long enough to get that far.

  Our trip ended at a beautifully carved door. Tafir gestured us toward it, pressed his right hand to his heart, took a step to the side, turned to face the corridor, and froze. Is he even breathing?

  “Speak quietly, c-concisely, and res-spectfully,” Brother Yur said to me. “Look h-him in the eye at all times. Don-n’t decline if he o-offers us something to eat, and don’t sh-show your fear. If y-you can do that, you’ll have a shot a-at getting what you want.”

  Pushing open the door, he walked inside.

  “Yur!” A man in an inconspicuous gray robe tied up with an equ
ally unprepossessing rope came over to meet the treasurer, arms flung wide. There was no gold or silver on his neck or sleeves, and there certainly wasn’t a platinum-hilted saber at his side. He’s really the lord of the frostbitten killers? He looked more like a melon trader, just without the skullcap.

  Hassan ibn Kemal was short, older, and gray-haired. His face told tales of everything he had seen and lived through, with lines that preached wisdom. Still, there was nothing demonic about him.

  “Hassan,” Brother Yur said, holding his arms out and even surprising me by saying the sheik’s name without a stammer. I’d noticed that he did it much less at certain times, so there must have been something he knew that I didn’t.

  They hugged each other, patting each other on the back like old friends. I had the feeling that plain and inconspicuous treasurer knew everyone who was anyone on the continent, and I could only assume that half of them owed him something.

  You completed a quest: Master of Atarin Castle.

  Reward:

  1000 experience

  That was pretty straightforward, though, perhaps, that was fitting for such an austere place.

  You unlocked level 68!

  Points ready to be distributed: 5

  Ah, a level! I hadn’t gotten anywhere since the archipelago, so my experience must have been building up little by little. It was always a great feeling when that happened.

  You unlocked The Right Questions.

  This is the second in the Third Part of the Key series of quests.

  Task: Get Sheik Hassan ibn Kemal to tell you where the third part of the key is.

  Reward:

  1500 experience

  The next quest in the series

  Note!

  Hassan ibn Kemal is a difficult, conflicting character, and so you should be careful as you talk with him. If he turns his wrath on you, you may be killed, in which case you will fail the quest.

  Difficult and conflicting—like everyone else in the East. Damn, how am I supposed to talk with him? I had no idea if he was looking for flattery, frankness, inflexibility, or something else. And why didn’t I look him up on the forums? What’s my problem? As I thought, the pair finally finished up with their hug, leaving the sheik to stare at me.

  “Who did you bring to my house, Yur?” ibn Kemal asked hollowly. “Is this kid your son?”

  “No, Hassan,” Brother Yur said as he walked across the room and plopped down on a pillow next to a dastarkhan[1] loaded with food. “He’s m-my friend, and a good one. His name i-is Hagen.”

  “Why can’t he tell me his own name?” the sheik asked without the least bit of aggression. “Does he not have a tongue?”

  “It wouldn’t be right for me to intrude on the conversation of two friends—especially since they’re both older than me—without their permission,” I said softly, looking into the somewhat faded but still blue eyes of the sheik. “My name is Hagen. Hagen of the West.”

  Hassan came over to stand right in front of me. “I’ve heard of you. It was you in the throne room with Yur when they killed that sheep Federik, no?”

  “Yes, that was him,” the treasurer broke in. He had already pulled a bunch of grapes off a place. “But h-he fought well—I e-even gave him Gaynor’s sword.”

  “I heard about your brother’s death, yes,” ibn Kemal said, turning his head toward Brother Yur. “That was a shame—he was a great warrior.”

  “He was a t-turkey who spent his whole l-life on a bunch of nothing,” Brother Yur said. He didn’t sound terribly upset.

  “We all spend our lives on a bunch of nothing,” ibn Kemal replied. “Wouldn’t you agree, son?”

  “I’m not sure,” I replied quickly. “It depends on what you would call nothing. Yesterday, I was with a woman; the day after tomorrow, I’m going to stand at the head of my clan to lead them onto the field of battle; and today, I’m enjoying a conversation two smart men allowed me to be part of. I’m not sure if there’s anything there you’d call nothing.”

  “Well done.” The sheik pointed a finger at me and laughed softly. “He’s afraid, but he has a way with words. Head over to the dastarkhan, my boy, and get something to eat. People like you need to eat a lot—you need strength to make love and kill. We’re the ones who don’t need much since you don’t need strength to die.”

  “You’ve been th-threatening to go the w-way of the sun ever since I first-t met you,” Brother Yur said, his mouth full of grapes. “It’s b-been a good twe-enty years, no? And you’re s-still talking about dying.”

  “Yes, something like that. I’m ready to die, but the old lady still hasn’t shown up. Maybe she doesn’t want to; more likely, she got lost somewhere. Although, if you hadn’t given me a hand back then in the Red Castle, I wouldn’t be here today.”

  “Ah, don-n’t mention it,” Brother Yur replied with a wave. “You saved me when the Cra-azy Baron sent his ghouls after us.”

  “Son, what are you still standing there for?” Hassan asked, frowning as he looked back at me. “Or do I need to hold your hand and walk you over to the table like a child?”

  “No need for that—I’m always the first over when it comes to food,” I replied as I noticed the sparks flashing in his eyes. The old man looked fickle in his moods, so I made a note to myself to be careful. “But, before I do, allow me to give you this cloak. I’m a guest in your home, and guests should never arrive emptyhanded.”

  I unrolled the cloak, the gold glittering in the flickering lamplight.

  “This is the crest of my clan, a small one, but courageous,” I said before placing the cloak in his hands. “It would be a pleasure to have part of my clan here in Atarin Castle. The best blades in Rattermark live here, and that means we would benefit from part of your good fortune.”

  It wasn’t exactly logical, but the sheik liked it. He looked the crest over, tried to recognize it and couldn’t (it would have been strange if he had), and, finally, turned back to me.

  “Good work. That was well said, and the crest is a good one. Go, get some food.”

  At that point, I really was able to sit down at the dastarkhan. I had to, in fact, because I didn’t expect another invitation…

  I’ve always enjoyed eastern cuisine. What we had there may have all been digital and less than authentic, but it sure looked the same. I noticed dishes from several different countries mixed together and happily gave them each a try. There was yakhna-barra, Uzbek lamb, Tadjik kuurdak, and couscous served with a ragout from one of the Arab countries.

  How do I know all that? Like I said, I like eastern cuisine. All the spices, the fatty meat, the bliss of a full stomach…that’s eastern cuisine in my book.

  While I was eating, the two old friends talked calmly and openly without paying me the least bit of attention. That surprised me, given that they were discussing the foreign policy of everyone in Fayroll. They went through the rulers of all four of the marks, with Hassan’s poor opinion of the sultan in the South leading me to wonder how much longer he had to live. Lane will be happy to hear that. He had some beef with that guy, didn’t he?

  “Full?” Hassan asked me finally.

  “Absolutely,” I replied, wiping my greasy lips. “Your chef is a genius—if he worked for someone else, I would try to buy him over to my side. Depending on how much he costs, I might even be willing to steal him.”

  “And why don’t you want to buy mine?” the sheik asked with narrowed eyes.

  “Who would leave here of their own free will?” I laughed. “It’s the most peaceful place in Fayroll, especially these days.”

  “Why don’t you stay, too?” Hassan said. “You’re smart, fast, and brave. I’ll find a good spot for you here in the castle.”

  The old bastard is testing me. I needed a good answer… A debt? No, that’s not it. A woman? Definitely not. Kids? The clan?

  “No, Sheik, I can’t stay,” I replied, looking him right in the eye. “Not for anything.”

  “Why not? The food’s good, no?”<
br />
  “So, what?” I grunted. “It’s boring.”

  “Women, dice, horses…” Hassan threw up his arms. “Ah, it’s all a bunch of nonsense.”

  “No, I’m not talking about all of that,” I said as soon as he stopped talking. “Life on the road is a real joy. You have everything out there: a life, women, fighting, friends. And death at the end, too. But when I do die, I’ll have much more than just this delicious food to remember. The food is great here, of course, but that’s it…”

  “Still foolish,” Hassan said, pointing a finger at me and turning to Brother Yur. “Foolish through and through, but the good part is that he could still wise up. You made a good choice letting him in, brother—he has potential. Just don’t let him get too distracted.”

  “I d-don’t,” Brother Yur replied as he picked up a piece of baklava from the group of sweets at the left end of the dastarkhan. They served the desserts at the same time as the meat there. “You know a-as well as anyone, though, tha-at you can’t always have an e-eye on them.”

  “So, leave him with me.” Hassan stared at me again. “He could be a pretty good fighter. Those shoulders are well developed, he’s naturally flexible, and he has a strong neck. I could work with that.”

  Note!

  You have been offered a unique opportunity.

  You can stay in Hassan ibn Kemal’s castle for six months and:

  Beat more than one hundred simple quests, complete three chains, and find more than forty hidden quests (two of them are chains);

  Receive seven active abilities, nine passive abilities, and three elite abilities (if you complete the hidden quests);

  Unlock three new locations—Atarin Castle, Village in the Mountains, and Mountain Spirit Trail.

  If you account for yourself well with the NPCs and in battle, reaching the Assassin Brother reputation rank without breaking a single gameplay rule, you can learn three unique assassin abilities modified to fit your class.