Liar King

by Adam Elliott

  Do you wish these two formations to engage in mock combat? Note that any damage sustained during simulated battle will not be healed until end of day? Y/N

  There was only one answer to that.

  The moment Cayden touched the floating query, the two units formed up into solid lines across the field from one another. There was a moment of shouting and posturing before each began to advance on the other in slow, methodical steps. Soon enough, the two clashed, shield against shield, wooden blades striking down on their foes, sending men sprawling. Eventually, the din of battle began to die down, with Bastion’s Second beginning to withdraw a short distance, harried by their opponents farewell attacks.

  In the aftermath, the Combat Log told a tale all its own:

  The First Company attacks Bastion’s Second - Attack Value: 1800 vs. Defense Value 1700.

  The First Company deals 27 damage to Bastion’s Second.

  Bastion’s Second attacks The First Company - Attack Value: 1700 vs. Defense Value 1800.

  Bastion’s Second deals 24 damage to The First Company.

  “In real combat, the losing formation would be forced to flee the field,” Valserys explained as the players studied the results of combat. “Or the losing army in an instance where multiple formations are engaging in combat in the same area.”

  “What determines which side is the losing formation?” Michael asked.

  “I’d say the one that received the most damage?” Cayden said dryly. He was about to say more when a soft buzzing in his pocket drew his attention.

  “Largely correct.” Valserys agreed. “With a few small caveats. Any side lacking leadership will almost certainly cede the field to their opponent on anything but an outright victory. In addition, there are a few tactics that can be used to alter the winner or loser in a particular engagement.”

  “Tactics?” Silver asked though Cayden was no longer listening.

  It was his mirror that had buzzed. Without his usual AR display, a simple vibration function was the only way for the device to get his attention, to alert him to his new skill:

  Leadership

  Type: Passive

  Skill Level: Level 1.

  Effect: Leadership Bonus +1. Access to Level 1 War Tactics.

  The words War Tactics were highlighted on his screen, and a single touch took him to a new section of his skills menu, where a series of four new abilities awaited him.

  Blitz

  Type: Tactic

  Skill Level: N/A

  Effect: Increase unit attack strength by 25%. Reduce defense by 15%

  Defensive Stance

  Type: Tactic

  Skill Level: N/A

  Effect: Increase unit defense strength by 25%. Reduce attack by 15%

  Combat Screen

  Type: Tactic

  Skill Level: N/A

  Effect: Select one friendly formation in the same hex. Melee enemy formations must engage this formation before engaging screened target. Enemy tactics or special movement type (Flying, Teleportation, etc.) may override this tactic.

  Full Withdrawal

  Type: Tactic

  Skill Level: N/A

  Effect: Increase unit defense by 50%. Reduce attack by 75%. Unit loses combat regardless of damage inflicted or received. Increase chance of leadership survival.

  “-Cayden?”

  He looked up at the sound of his name, to see all four of the room’s occupants looking his way expectantly. He’d missed something. “Uh, mind repeating that?”

  “She was asking what had you burying your nose in your mirror,” Michael explained.

  “Ah,” Cayden said, covering up his slight flush of embarrassment by handing the device over to his fellow players. The two studied it for a moment, Michael looming somewhat unnervingly over Silver’s shoulder as the latter surveyed the same options that had kept Cayden’s attention fixed on the screen.

  “Well, those will be useful.” Silver said, handing the mirror back. “Assuming you don’t have to lead the units directly to benefit from them.”

  Cayden considered that for a moment, then shook his head. “No, just from the wording, I think they’ll work with the War Frame.”

  “One way to find out.” Michael offered.

  Before Cayden reached out for the board, he turned his attention to Valserys once more. “To be clear, this mock combat doesn’t put the troops in danger. Correct?”

  “Not directly, no,” Valserys replied, before choosing to qualify his statement further. “It will still cause damage as the War Frame registers it, so it would obviously be unwise to engage in any practice in a situation where our troops could be at risk.”

  Michael arched a brow at that. “Wait, but if it’s damage, shouldn’t there be wounds? Deaths even?”

  The pink haired Elan officer shook his head. “The battle is rarely the source of most casualties.” He explained. “For every soldier that dies in the clash of shields and blades, ten more die during the rout. A damaged unit might have lost some of its soldiers, but the damage is mostly to morale and organization. Otherwise, a unit with one of its one hundred health would be a single soldier, an absurd concept at best.”

  “So the damage they take from these practice runs is organizational?” Silver asked.

  “And morale, and exhaustion.” Valserys agreed. “I know of scant few soldiers who would be ready to throw themselves at a waiting enemy after hours of drilling under a hot sun.”

  “Point taken.”

  “So we’ll avoid drilling them to the point of exhaustion. But a few more tests more shouldn’t hurt.” Cayden said. “Before that. We should make a few changes.”

  “Tests hmm?” Silver asked, a twinkle in her eye. “For science?”

  Cayden grinned, that same mischief playing across his expression. “For science!”

  Chapter Ten

  If there was one thing about Babel that Cayden thought he would never get used to, it was waking up in a strange bed.

  Son of two middle-income parents, he’d never traveled much as a child or as teenager. The few vacations they had in a year were most often spent camping or visiting family. Waking on the hard ground beneath his tent, or on an air mattress in his uncle’s office, those were what Cayden was used to. Awakening in a four post bed so large that he couldn’t reach from one end to the other no matter how he slept? That was just weird.

  It was a weirdness compounded by the hour in which he woke. Somewhere, outside of the endless ocean of down feather bed, his mirror was buzzing at him, the slightest line of light emanating from the corners of the face down device. It was the only artificial light in the room, though just enough of it was illuminated by the crescent moon visible through floor to ceiling windows on the far end of the bedroom.

  The Master’s Chambers, Roberta had called them.He’d slept in an open bunk in the barracks during the few fitful hours of sleep he’d first gotten upon their arrival, but neither of his Elan advisors would have him doing that again once they’d heard the tale. It was unseemly, they told him. Beneath his position. It simply would not do to have one entrusted with so much quartered in such a dismal place. So Roberta had placed him here, high up in the west wing of the tower, in a bedroom he was fairly convinced would have fit his entire suburban home with spare room for the shed in the yard.

  Silver and Cayden’s experiments had continued well into the mid-afternoon. When they finally did halt, it was a matter of exhaustion, both for the units under their control and for the players themselves. Neither had gotten much sleep in the few hours before dawn, and excitement over the artifact at their fingertips could only keep the pair going for so long. Michael had bowed out after only an hour of study, and eventually, the same exhaustion weighed so heavily that any further experimentation would have been counter-productive.

  A nap was in order.

  “Ugh… what time is it?” Cayden mumbled to himself as he half rolled, half crawled to the edge of the bed. He fumbled first for his mirror, then the glasses
that lay beside it. Just after nine, his alarm had been going off for several minutes at him already. He must have been more tired than he thought. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late.

  As if on cue, a soft rapping noise sounded at his door.

  “I’m awake!” He grumbled the same mantra he had used countless times to lie to his mother over the years. In truth, he wasn’t sure his current state as a bleary-eyed, shambling mess of a human being actually qualified as being awake.

  Again the knock sounded, and he took just a moment to bury his face in a pillow before at last letting his feet suffer the abuse of the cold stone floor.

  The oppressive darkness of the chamber disappeared at a word from Cayden, albeit a Runic word that sent a wheel of flame spinning about the room. It lit the wick of candle upon candle, forcing Cayden to squint against the sudden brightness that threatened to overwhelm him. “Just a second. Let me get some damn clothes on!”

  Cayden donned his AR glasses, followed by the form-fitting haptic gloves that allowed him to interface with the device. Once both gloves were snug around his fingers, Cayden snapped them to bring his display to life. A small bounty of new messages awaited his attention, but those had to wait as he stepped from bed, navigating into his inventory with one hand as he wiped the remnants of sleep from the corner of one eye with the other. Clothes. He needed clothes.

  The fabric materialized onto his frame as his bare feet padded across smooth stone, then the thick bear rug closer to the door. One perk that he had to give Babel, he’d never have to do laundry again, so long as he stayed. Each time the outfit was withdrawn from his inventory, it spawned as though brand new. No wrinkles, no stains or imperfections marred the tunic and leathers he’d chosen. He’d ripped this outfit at least once or twice during his adventures, but the damage never lingered. It had even sized down with him as steady exercise, and a more sensible diet had cut away some of the pounds he’d earned in a sedentary life of video gaming.

  “Oh for crying - ! I said I’m coming!” Cayden half shouted at the door as the knock sounded again and he finally yanked it open.

  “Good morning!” Celia said, the slim blonde’s body doing a terrible job of hiding the silverware-laden cart she had with her. He raised a bemused eyebrow at her choice of words, but she wasn’t having any of it. “Took you long enough.”

  “Did you not hear me yelling?” Cayden shot back, only to see her expression darken with uncertainty. “Or is this room…” He abruptly shut the door, shouting at the top of his lungs, then opened it again.

  “Yeah, soundproof, I think.” She finished for him. “Are you going to invite me in? Or?”

  There was something about the wording of the question that made him blush, and not just the fact that Celia was looking particularly pretty. Adventuring didn’t often lend itself to the sort of runway model looks that adorned the covers of thousands of books and videogames. If they were lucky enough to get back to the Dizzy Sheep, Celia was often straight to bed after dinner and dressed for the road by the time he woke and if they spent their night in the wild she rarely ever ditched the heavy mage robes at all. Just seeing her with her hair down was a rarity, to say nothing of the flowing purple dress that hugged an hourglass figure.

  Cayden pretended to consider the question, largely to buy time to compose himself. “Depends on what you have on that tray, I suppose.”

  “Oh, go ahead. Just kill all the suspense why don’t you?” Celia fumed, pushing past him with the cart in tow.

  “I think you did that when you forgot to hide the tray around a corner.” He retorted. The door shut behind him as he stepped away from it, following her to a four-person sitting table where she began to unload the dishes. The smell of breakfast foods, hash browns, pancakes, and syrup, wafted up to entice a stomach he hadn’t realized was quite so empty.

  “Remind me why I do anything nice for you?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea.” Cayden laughed weakly. “I’m sorry Celia, I’m a jerk when I wake up.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” She smirked, shifting the dishes one by one from the trolley to the table.

  It looked delicious. More than that, it looked normal!

  One thing Cayden had discovered, even before he first stepped foot inside the tower, was that he should never trust Elan cooking. The tower’s denizens looked mostly human, acted mostly human, and were, as he understood it, more or less biologically human, but they had very different taste when it came to food. Bitter foods were among their favorites, and spicy or worse yet, slimy foods had a place at every breakfast table as far as they were concerned. They could be taught to cook regular meals, of course, but dining with an Elan you didn’t know was begging for disaster. With unknown Elan military cooks expected to prepare their meals, he’d already resigned himself to a week of survival on trail rations and whatever snacks he had left in his pack. To see such a bounty, it almost brought a tear to his eye.

  “Did you…?” Cayden asked despite knowing the answer.

  Celia shrugged in response, her expression nonchalant as she took a seat. “I owe you.”

  “Oh.” His head shook as he settled into the seat opposite her. “Celia, if you owe anyone, it is Michael.”

  “I already have.” She explained with a giggle. “Unlike someone, he was up at a reasonable hour.”

  Cayden’s hand lingered imperceptibly as he reached for a stack of pancakes on a nearby plate. It took everything he had not to frown, and even more to bite his tongue. “Ah.”

  Considering the playful light that began to dance in Celia’s eyes, everything he had wasn’t enough.

  “Cayden… are you jealous?” Celia asked, a very feminine giggle falling from her lips. “I mean, I’m flattered and all but-”

  “I’m not jealous.” He said flatly, suddenly more interested in syrup than conversation.

  “You are! You totally are.” The high school queen bee Celia would have been if not for Babel was in full force now as a smirk played over her lips. “Is it because he’s more handsome than you?”

  That stung more than he’d like to admit. “Really Celia?”

  “Hey, I made you breakfast. I get to tease.”

  “I saved your life.” He retorted.

  Celia wiggled a finger in front of him. “Actually, Michael saved my life. You said it yourself.” The girl pondered for a moment, before adding. “Okay, maybe not good looks. Level envy?”

  “Oh, just eat your pancakes!”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think that was it.” She continued not giving his words a second thought. “Afraid he is going to steal me when all this is over?”

  “Could we not?” He half asked, half begged.

  “Nope.” Celia shook her head vigorously. “Silver had me eating crow for weeks about how you and I met. Let me have this.”

  Silence reigned at the table for a moment, before Cayden, at last, offered a heavy sigh. “It isn’t just you.” He held up a hand to forestall any inquiries. “And yes, part of it is you, try not to get a big head about it.”

  “Too late.”

  “I just don’t like him.” Cayden shrugged. “I’m trying not to make a deal out of it, because I know I’m just being petty. I’ve been like… the guy around our party for a while. Feels weird to have someone else people are admiring and looking to for leadership.”

  “You think I admire you?” Celia asked slyly.

  “Well, you did stalk me for my autograph.”

  “You go to a dungeon for an autograph onetime…” Celia rolled her eyes, digging into a few bites of the meal before her before she added. “I didn’t go through all this effort for him, you know?”

  “Hmm?” He cocked his head to one side.

  “The breakfast, I mean.” She explained. “I said thank you, yeah. He kept me alive, but you kept all of us alive. Don’t think that I don’t know the difference.”

  A small smile pulled at his lips, though Cayden was less than pleased with the light blush that crept up along with it.


  “Besides, he’s DPS, and you are a tank. You’re harder to replace.” Celia reached across the table, patting him on the cheek with a manicured hand. “And you’re not too awful to look at.”

  ***

  An hour later, after a breakfast of delicious pastries and merciless teasing, Cayden, at last, made his way down through the winding halls to the strategy room.

  “Our fearless leader emerges!” Shifty said, eliciting a small rumble of laughter from both Michael and Silver as the three milled about the edge of the War Frame, with his two Elan advisors trailing off in mid-conversation to give him their full attention.

  “Good morning to you too,” Cayden replied with a chipperness he did not entirely feel. “Didn’t expect to see you up so early Silver.”

  The mage shrugged but made no effort to disguise the smugness of her smirk as she taunted him. “I woke up around the same time you did. I just didn’t have a breakfast date.”

  Beside him, Celia’s neck began to adopt a rosy hue, but Cayden kept on without blinking. “Understandable. When was the last time you had a date?”

  The harsh clearing of a throat interrupted any further banter, all eyes drawn to Valserys as the prim-proper soldier did his best to conceal the particular disdain he had for their back and forth. “Good evening, Field Marshall.” He began. “Everyone is here as instructed. Shall we begin?”

  “And I thought you were a killjoy,” Celia whispered from his side, drawing only an incredulous glance in reply.

  “Thank you Valserys,” Cayden responded. He then motioned to the War Frame. “Have you explained the functions of the War Frame to those who weren’t here this morning?”

  “I have, Cayden,” Roberta said. “As much as they were interested in it, in any case.”