by John Nest
“A little over three thousand OrkElves and twenty MaduHai Orks,” replied Smoke.
Prince Matalim smiled. He turned to face Meneur with a grateful face. “I suppose you’re the leader of the MaduHai Orks?”
“The Prince of the Thanotl Kingdom is talking to you,” Smoke whispered to Meneur.
“I am,” answered Meneur.
Prince Matalim then walked over to her and took her hand to shake it. “In behalf of the coalition, I thank you for offering your services to us. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you to fight against your own kind.”
“Not really,” replied Meneur, smiling at the Prince. “There’s some bad blood that needs to be spilled.”
Prince Matalim then turned to Cynar. “And you must be the leader of the OrkElves.”
Cynar only nodded and backed away from Prince Matalim when he offered his hand. “You don’t have to talk to me. Faux can answer on my behalf.”
“Very well,” respectfully said Prince Matalim.
“Ahem! Prince, before we discuss anything else. We need to come up with a better plan than what you have going on right now,” blurted out Meneur.
“You think so too, huh?” said Prince Matalim. “Don’t worry we’ll get this settled soon.”
“Well, you better!” interjected Trottel. “Whose fault is this anyway?” he asked Prince Matalim, his eyes glaring. The pompous tiger Lioumerean acted all haughty.
“Once again, I apologize for Duke Tritank’s behavior,” said Prince Matalim. “I honestly don’t know what happened to him.”
“If we’re being honest right now, then let me tell you how wrong it was to give him the authority of your entire army,” harshly added Trottel. “In fact, I demand that we have this all sorted first before we go on any further.”
“Right. Let me just go find Duke Tritank,” said Prince Matalim in a humbled voice. “Sir Faux, why don’t you and your companions take a rest before we continue our meeting.”
* * * * * *
As soon as Smoke led Cynar and Meneur into their assigned area, he called for his Beggar Shade to give her report.
Daga’s Findings:
[[Arguments in the ranks]]
[[Ramblings of Tritank]]
[[Unease of the Sonstwelters]]
His eyes zoomed in on the one entitled ‘Ramblings of Tritank’.
Ramblings of Tritank
– Tritank went on a rampage and attacked anyone closed to him as soon as the Thanotl Army arrived in the valley. He killed off ten Sonstwelters before finally calming down. He then ordered everyone to put up their tents wherever they were standing. Currently, he is on a drinking binge in one of the tents.
“Is Tritank still drinking right now?” Smoke asked the little gray mouse.
“Yup, and from the look of it, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to be done anytime soon,” replied Daga.
“Good. Take me to him,” he said to Daga.
Together, Smoke and Daga discreetly headed towards the Tritank’s tent. It took them less than five minutes to reach it.
“Come on, drink up! Drink up!” slurred someone from inside the tent.
‘Need to have some visual,’ thought Smoke. It had been awhile since he canceled his Synergized State with Igniz, but his Symbiote Vision ability required them to be separated.
A burst of purple light escaped Smoke’s skin as he and Igniz detached from one another.
“Hey, Buddy!” said Smoke, all smiling. “Listen, I need you to turn out your lights and take a peek inside this tent.”
His dark ember sprite bobbed his head and did as he was ordered.
Activating his Symbiote Vision, Smoke saw Tritank surrounded by four passed out Sonstwelters. Amid the drinking session, there was only one other person left awake. It was a middle-aged man who looked familiar to him.
‘They’re really passed-out drunk, huh?’ surmised Smoke, remembering how adjusting the intoxication setting could do exactly just that.
Upon further inspection, Smoke realized that Tritank was talking to Clint—Chrysopelea’s uncle who died when they were fighting against the wyvern. The two of them were holding their copper mugs filled with ale.
“Come on, you can’t be that upset over your brother,” Clint said to Tritank, finishing off his mug after several gulps. “You’re in a game, you should relax.”
“I’m like this because of him!” screamed Tritank. “Did you know that it’s my birthday today?”
“Um, yeah! That’s the reason why you invited us to go out drinking, remember?” replied Clint. “Hey, if you’re drunk, we could stop. I mean, it’s just the two of us left anyway.”
“What? Really?” said a surprised Tritank, looking around all groggy. “Well, whose the better man now?” he asked the passed out Sonstwelters.
“Alright, you’ve had enough,” said Clint. “I’m leaving, and you better stop drinking too. Everybody’s probably looking for you.”
“No. No! Stay, come on!” pleaded Tritank. “Just one more round?” he said, pouring him another drink.
“Fine. I’d be crazy to refuse such an expensive drink that increases your maximum mana by ten!” said Clint.
“Right?” said a grinning Tritank. “Anyway, since it’s just the two of us now. I think I’d share something with you,” he mumbled. “Did you know, that my name isn’t really Tritank?”
“I guessed,” politely replied Clint.
“It’s actually Tristan Maximillion III,” said Tritank.
“Maximillion? Like the one who owns those hotel chains and shipping lines?” asked Clint.
“You must be really old,” said Tritank.
“Huh? Why?” asked Clint.
“You’re more focused on my family name,” replied Tritank, taking a sip out of his mug. “A person in his twenties wouldn’t know about that. Besides, they’d be more focus on the fact that my name is Tristan!”
“Oh, right, Tristan,” said Clint. “Wait! You’re Tristan’s younger brother?”
Upon hearing this, Smoke’s eyes grew wide. ‘No wonder he always defended him in the forums!’
“Yeah! I am,” bitterly said Tritank. “But he was the only one our father ever paid attention to.”
“Come on, now. I’m sure you’re over exaggerating,” said Clint.
“Really? He calls Tristan—Tristan. And what do you think he calls me?” asked Tritank. “He calls me Third!”
“Well, it would be confusing if your dad calls you Tristan too, wouldn’t it?” said Clint.
“That’s not the point!” screamed Tritank. “Tristan always gets the best things in life, and all I get are what’s left over.”
“So, Tristan was mean to you?” asked Clint.
“No. He was worse,” answered Tritank. “For him to do that, he would have to acknowledge my existence first! I’ve been doing everything I could think of to get his approval, but that bastard always ignored me!”
Tritank shook his head and took several gulps of his ale. “You know what he gave me this birthday? He had one of his secretaries give me an e-card.”
“Well, at least he got you some—” began Clint but shut his mouth when he saw Tritank’s piercing gaze.
“And I thought all of that would change when Zectas came out,” went on Tritank. “I thought this was my chance to get close to him.”
“So, you asked to play with him?” asked Clint.
Tritank nodded his head. “Yup. I’m the one who introduced the game to him. Not only that. I’ve been defending him in the forums and video posts.”
“Video Posts?” asked Clint.
“How can you call yourself a Zectas player when you don’t even know about video posts?” asked Tritank in disbelief. “People have been saying crap about how Smoke or Amahan was better than him,” he added, shaking his head. “Can’t allow that. Do you know how much of a bastard Smoke really is?”
“What do you mean?” said Clint.
“Now, this happened about two years ago, be
fore Smoke was even famous,” began Tritank. “Apparently, Tristan and his original guild members were out to get some key from this legendary Maneator. And then suddenly Smoke comes out before they reached the Maneator’s entrance, all dressed in his Novice attire.”
“How did Smoke get out of a city while still being a Novice?” asked Clint.
“Exactly! That’s why Tristan knew that Smoke was up to something,” said Tritank. “I’m not sure what really happened when they faced the Maneator, but Tristan said that they fell for Smoke’s trap and were almost killed. Something about the Maneator being in his private army from the get-go.”
“Smoke has a Maneator in his private army?” asked Clint in disbelief. “And this was almost two years ago? That’s amazing! No wonder his famous.”
“What! That’s what you got from all that?” said Tritank, his speech extremely slurred. “Don’t you get it? Smoke appears to be this mysterious guy who gives out hints on increasing Poison resistance and the rest of his crappy stuff in his videos. But the truth is, he’s a ruthless bastard that picked a fight with my brother because he knows that Tristan is better than him.”
‘What a load of bull!’ The eavesdropping Smoke almost went on a rampage. Thankfully, he managed to pacify his anger by squeezing both his arms tight.
Clint did not reply. He only offered his empty copper mug to Tritank and asked for a refill.
“Hahahahaha!” Tritank suddenly burst out into laughter after pouring Clint another drink. “Smoke was right, though. Tristan is better. But this time, I’ll be able to one-up him. Especially now! My brother lost his guild and his city. There’s practically no news of him anywhere.”
“Well, if we do win this war against the Ork Horde that would be a pretty big deal,” said Clint.
“Yeah. If only I found the mount I’ve been looking for,” said Tritank. “What good is changing Jobs if you can’t ride on a w—” he suddenly stopped himself as he went off topic. “You know that I have a city in the Thanotl Kingdom, right?”.
“And?” asked Clint, confused.
“Well, I was thinking that you and Chrysopelea can join my guild and you could move there with me,” explained Tritank. “I’d give you a big house and—”
“Wait. Let me stop you right there,” said Clint. “You do know that Chrys has his own city, right?”
Tritank’s mouth fell open. “Oh, yeah! Hm. Didn’t think of that. Well, you can give it to some other Sonstwelter then.”
This time, it was Clint’s turn to laugh. “Sorry, but there’s no way that’s happening.”
“Really?” asked Tritank, discouraged. “Um… What about Faux, then?
“What? I thought you hated the guy?” said Clint, surprised.
“I do. But I think it’s just cause of envy,” replied Tritank. “I was about to offer him a spot in my guild, but then the forums started popping up threads about him. When they should be talking about me!”
All of a sudden, the same guards who escorted Smoke to Prince Matalim entered the tent. “Excuse me, Duke Tritank, Prince Matalim has summoned you.”
When Smoke heard this, he immediately signaled Igniz to return to him and left Tritank’s tent.
* * * * * *
Summoned into Prince Matalim’s tent, Meneur performed a sobering spell on Tritank. She froze Tritank’s legs and expelled the alcohol from his system.
Only then did they begin to formulate a new strategy for the Ork’s attack. It took them a total of six hours. The delay was mostly caused by Tritank debating Meneur’s proposal. Thankfully, Tritank’s arguments were shut down by Prince Matalim. The Supreme Leader of the joint armies sided with Meneur, as she was the most knowledgeable person against the Horde.
On the other hand, Smoke kept silent the whole time. The knowledge of Tritank being Tristan’s brother percolated in his mind, but he had no idea what to do with this information. So, when they had finally formulated the plan, Smoke begrudgingly obeyed Prince Matalim’s orders. Along with everyone, they began to disperse to their designated positions.
Yet, as they did so, Tritank called out to Smoke. “Hey, Faux! I don’t know what’s going on, but you seem really pissed at me?”
“He just knows something’s wrong with you,” answered Trottel.
“Butt out of this fur-face,” replied Tritank.
Smoke let out a ball of fire in his right hand. The spacious tent immediately felt hot and stuffy.
“Duke Tritank, please do not instigate any unnecessary altercations with our allies,” reprimanded Prince Matalim.
“Smo—Faux,” interjected Eleve, pulling Smoke away and canceling his fireball by crushing it with her hands. “Come, let’s step outside.”
Smoke was rushed away from Tritank and was followed by Ouragan, Meneur, and Cynar.
“What was that about?” asked Cynar. “Is he giving you trouble? Want me to beat him up?”
“Cynar, don’t fan the flames,” said Meneur.
“Looks like found some reliable allies,” said Ouragan to Smoke. “Leaving you here to face the Orks by yourselves doesn’t seem like such a bad idea now.”
“You were worried?” Eleve asked Ouragan. “Faux is after all my student. I stake my title as Magietrois on him.”
Surrounded by four Zectians who were truly concern for him, Smoke’s anger slowly faded.
“Thank you,” said Smoke. “Sorry about that. That guy just rubs me the wrong way.”
“Don’t sweat it,” said Cynar. “You shouldn’t let someone get under your skin like that.”
‘Like with you and Wertlosvati,’ Smoke thought to himself.
“But don’t worry about us,” said Smoke to Eleve and Ouragan. “You guys think about yourselves—”
Before Smoke could say anything else, Eleve slapped him hard on the back. “Don’t get conceited! We’re still far stronger than you!”
Eleve clicked her tongue. “Come on, Ouragan. Let’s leave this smart-ass alone.”
With that, they left Smoke in the encampment. Even with the joint armies gone; he still had Cynar, Meneur, the OrkElves, and the MaduHai Orks with him for company.
Before the Thanotl Kingdom and Vitzytl Kingdom armies left, they were tasked to put up several lodgings that resembled the huts of the MaduHai Orks, as it was part of Meneur’s plan. But mostly it was because she detested sleeping in anything other than an Ork hut.
With only a little more than twenty-four hours left, Smoke asked to be left alone for a while. He pushed the irritating Tritank out of his mind and focused on the upcoming battle.
Inside the privacy of his own tent, Smoke removed his paradox mask. He thought it was time for him to call his dearest Zectian friend. “Hey, sorry it’s been so long.”
“Hmmp! That’s always how our conversations start these days,” replied Darius.
Smoke forced out a guilty laugh. “Anyway, how’s everyone in Nanahuatl?”
“Well the village is getting better and better,” replied Darius.
“But?” asked Smoke. “I know there’s a but coming, so just spit it out already.”
“But my power is steadily coming back to me too,” said Darius.
“Which means the barrier you’ve put up in Giro’s cave is about to give,” concluded Smoke.
“Well, it won’t be anytime soon,” answered Darius. “But yes! This miasma will definitely breakout.”
An awkward silence passed between the two good friends, which was broken by the Beggar Legati. “Anyway, what can I do for you?” asked Darius. “You usually just call when you want something to ask.”
“I’m hurt!” exclaimed Smoke, exaggerating the pain in his voice. “Can’t I just call to ask how you are?”
“Then, maybe it’s better to end this conversation,” said Darius. “I’ve already told you everything’s fine here, relatively speaking that is.”
“But you haven’t even asked how I was doing!” retorted Smoke.
“Fine. How’s the war against the Ork going?” asked Darius.<
br />
“Oh. You know about that huh?” said Smoke.
“Of course! I even know you’re a Beggar Evocati now,” said Darius. “Thank you for telling me by the way!” he added sarcastically.
“Hey, I was planning to tell you!” began Smoke. “But things just got busy. In this world and from where I came from.”
“I see.” was Darius’ only reply.
After a few seconds, Darius finally spoke again. “So, how are you doing?”
“Hm, the kingdoms of Thanotl and Vitzytl have joined forces. I’ve also managed to wrangle up an OrkElf arm—” began Smoke but was cut off by his friend.
“I’m talking about the thing that’s going on in your world!” said Darius. “I’m sure you’ve got the fight against the Ork covered.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” said Smoke.
“Well, whatever it is. I’m sure that it’s going to be fine,” said Darius.
“How can you be sure?” asked Smoke, his voice slightly rising.
“You know me. Believe me when I tell you that all your fears are unwarranted,” said Darius. “Everything will be fine.”
Smoke could not reply. Yet, somewhere deep inside him, he believed his Beggar friend.
“For now, I suggest you focus on your life here in Zectas,” said Darius. “Don’t you have to train that Automaton Knight of yours?”
“How did you know—” began Smoke but stopped questioning how Darius knew things. “It’s nice. I’ve been training it daily but its level is still really low at the moment.”
“Are you sure you can’t use it against the Orks?” asked Darius. “Remember, imagination is a weapon, those who don’t use it are the first ones to lose.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” asked Smoke, intrigued. He had forgotten how cryptic Darius would sometimes get.
“Anyway, think about it. I’m sure you’ll find your answer from within,” said Darius and dropped the call.
CLICK—
A smiling Smoke conjured his Automaton Knight. The now familiar multi-colored conjuring circle appeared on the floor, followed by a flash of white light. The gray training dummy covered by a gas mask and a skull cap appeared in front of him. He had grown its level to 30 and could now equip better items. The faceless Automaton Knight remained frozen, waiting for its master’s command.
