by Oliver Mayes
You’re right, ‘o mIgHtY kInG’. This is a crap welcome for someone you’re asking for help. And since this is how I’ve been received, you’ll get no help from me until Rising Tide’s reputation is restored, you have something to offer me in return other than threats, and you gain control over the suck-ups fawning over you for their own reputation instead of doing what’s best for the Empire. You’re not fit to rule and they’re not fit to serve. Have fun fellating yourselves while Magnitude poaches your players and the Empire is destroyed.
He sent the message and, neither knowing nor caring what King Bedivere would have to say in response, closed the window. They were enemies before, and they were enemies now. He was more concerned with how Lillian would take it. The message had only just been sent. Lillian was still reading, and quiet. Damien pressed his lips together and cranked down the volume in advance. He didn’t want his windows getting blown out by the shockwave that was surely coming.
There was a long intake of breath. Damien braced himself for the shouting, but it didn’t come. She just breathed back out again, long and slow. Then back in. It took a few moments to realize what she was doing, but when he did it hit him hard. Lillian was trying to prevent herself from having a panic attack. She’d talked about it with him before, when Andrew had pranked her so cruelly at the hospital and when she’d “lost her temper” after being killed by him prior to Aetherius’s defeat at the hands of Scorepeeus63, but he’d never actually seen her have one. Or heard it, as it were. It ran so contrary to everything else he knew about her that he’d not given it much thought. He’d certainly never thought he’d end up giving her one directly. Especially since she was no longer using the guardian wristband.
He thought about speaking, then decided against it. He’d stay on the line and she could talk to him when she was ready. Not before. Lillian kept it up for a good minute before she got it under control, and even then there was only silence. Shouting would’ve been a considerable improvement. At last, she spoke.
“You have no idea what you’ve done. Do you?”
“I stood up for you, and for myself. You can see that they’re a bunch of tools, right? They’d have ta—”
“Those ‘tools’ are the highest-tier players in the Empire! And you’ve just insulted them all, when I was the one who’d invited you there. So everything you say is on me, and none of the—no! Nooo!”
The long slow breaths came back as Lillian mashed away on her keyboard. It wasn’t long before the key-clacking died down. Then there was a smash.
“They’ve kicked Rising Tide out of the Round Table! So we have absolutely nothing going for us now, and I have you to thank! Thank you, Damien! Thank you for taking my trust and screwing me over with it!”
So this was his fault now? All he’d done was stand up for them and he was the bad guy, not this collective of douchebags Lillian had expected him to pander to? He thought not.
“You know what? You’re welcome! And thanks for promising something I’d already made it clear I didn’t want to give, inviting me to a group to get insulted by a bunch of strangers on your behalf and then yelling at me for not doing what you wanted! How is it my fault they’re jerks and I told them where to get off? If you’d at least briefed me before the meeting, I might have known what to expe—”
The call was cut. Great. So Lillian was probably in a full-blown, anger-induced panic attack by now, and Damien was the cause. Perfect. Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about being invited back to the council. Which was just as well, since he had much ruder things to say to them. By the time he was done, Rising Tide would’ve been declared Harbingers of Chaos.
He’d always hated the Empire forces, mainly by conditioning, but now he’d interacted with them it went much deeper than that. They’d attacked him, he’d defended himself, yet somehow he was to blame. He tabbed back to the Council of Nine resource page and ran over the words without taking them in while he brooded. He’d done this for all of five minutes before he got a new invitation. It wasn’t from Lillian. It was from one of the guild leaders with a seat at the Round Table. If it had been anyone else, Damien would’ve immediately rejected it. But this was the only one who’d shown any sense, and was also one of the only ones he’d encountered in the game.
Group Chat Invitation: Hammertime, Gamer ID 006226, A/D
Hmm. If they’d sent this guy as an envoy, maybe they had more sense than he’d thought. He could see about getting Lillian put back in. At her original standing or higher, of course. And one or two concessions for him specifically as well, at the very least. On the other hand, if they were making more threats and nasty demands using Hammertime as a mouthpiece, it was roast time. Win-win.
Damien accepted and a new box opened. He knew it wouldn’t take him directly to the council meeting, since it was just a regular group chat invitation. He’d assumed it would be a few select members of the Round Table, come to ply him with nice words before they got back into negotiations with a bit less bite and marginally more compromise. He was surprised to find that there were only three players there. Himself. Hammertime. And Lillian. They weren’t wasting any time, bringing them both in together. An apology from Hammertime wouldn’t mean much, though, since he was the only member of that group who didn’t owe them one.
The conversation didn’t go the way Damien expected.
Hammertime: I’m sorry for the way you two were treated. But I have some questions for the both of you. Lillian, could you tell me why you decided to attack the wall without requesting help from the other guilds first? Daemien, what was your stake in this?
Daemien: Lillian doesn’t need to tell you anything until Rising Tide is back in the Round Table and they’ve apologized for what they said. It’s nice you saying sorry and all, but that doesn’t mean we’ll happily tell you everything we know so you can run back to them and get your brownie points.
Lillian: I had to attack the wall to show we’re team players now, since no one else was stepping up. I thought some footage of the problem might encourage the rest of them to act, but so much for that. Daemien had his own plans.
Hammertime: Daemien, the two of you have been permanently banned from the group and Rising Tide has been formally removed. They won’t reverse that decision. They don’t know we’re talking and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m here for my own reasons, which might overlap with yours.
Daemien: Nice, Lillian. It’s not my fault the favor you asked for was suicidal, and that you demanded another one you knew I wasn’t prepared to give. Stop playing the victim when you’re the instigator.
Hammertime: Sorry Lillian, but I don’t believe you. I think there’s more to it than that, and would appreciate if you could be candid. I could’ve easily joined everyone in ousting you from the Round Table. Instead I urged restraint and was your only ally. Please be open with me.
Lillian: If I hadn’t helped you, you wouldn’t have that job. Period. Boo-hoo, you lost a day. As if you didn’t have your own reasons for being there. Learn to take the blame for your own bad choices. I should’ve just showed them the video myself instead of relying on you. Now I’ve lost the last of Rising Tide so you don’t have a couple of days of bad publicity. After everything I’ve done for you, I never thought you’d be so selfish.
Hammertime: Enough. If you feel like arguing with each other, do it in a private chat. I’m here to talk about something else. You’re going for the Lady of the Lake quest, aren’t you?
Lillian: That’s conjecture, and unhelpful. I didn’t sacrifice my standing with Camelot and the loyalty of half my guild-mates so you could throw conspiracy theories at me. Sorry to disappoint.
Hammertime: You underestimated the defenses and ended up dying, and then you came to us because you realized you couldn’t do it by yourself. If I’m wrong, say so again and I’ll be on my way. But if I’m right, I’m here to help. And given you could take screenshots of this and get me thrown out of the Round Table with you, that is not a statement I make lightly.
Daemien: So sorry, the occultist social reject would like some filling in. Who’s the Lady of the Lake?
Hammertime: There’s a quest we all got when we first signed up to the Empire, called ‘The Lady of the Lake’. It was question-marked and grayed out, so most people just removed it from their quest chains. At level 40, the question marks disappear. It’s probably a level 50 quest. If you ask around in the right places in Camelot and have the necessary reputation and resources, you get a quest destination in the Outer Ring. Research suggests there’s an old myth tying the Lady of the Lake and Camelot to a sword called Excalibur. The unbreakable sword of a king. A potential legendary weapon, the first of its kind. Ringing any bells, Lillian?
Lillian: What do you want?
Hammertime: I want in.
Lillian: Why?
Hammertime: Bedivere should be rallying everyone to attack Magnitude before he gets too powerful, but he’s trying to play it to his advantage. Preventing anyone from completing the quest and usurping him. At this rate, it won’t be long before the game becomes unplayable for us without joining the Carlisle-Elite. I’m a streamer as well, not as prolific as Daemien by any means, but Magnitude is not good news for me. Magnitude set up that wall to prevent people from pursuing this quest, since humans level up faster than other races. Which means pursuing it is likely the best option available to us if we can’t procure the forces to destroy the wall outright.
Daemien: Did this not seem worth sharing, Lillian? I could’ve been a lot more helpful if I knew what you actually wanted. And after all that talk about me being selfish. I’m pretty pissed.
Lillian: So you want to muscle in on the quest and steal my plan for yourself, and you want to use my manpower to help you achieve it? Good one.
Hammertime: If you can do it by yourself, more power to you. Go right ahead. You wouldn’t have come to the Round Table if that was the case. Not to brag, but I myself am extremely specialized and my presence alone would make breaking through exponentially easier. You don’t have the luxury of choice.
Lillian: Not only can I not trust you, I can’t trust the guild members under you. I thought my own people were trustworthy and some of them turned against us halfway through the raid. If we’re not doing this with Camelot’s backing, we need to make it a small, reliable force. They need to be willing and able to enact the plan tonight. How many high-level, serious players in your guild are readily available that you can trust? I mean REALLY trust.
Hammertime: Three.
Lillian: That’s low enough to believe you’re taking this seriously. I also have three. If we’re both attacking the wall we might get through it faster. It took me sixty-five seconds just to make a breach big enough for individual players to duck through. From watching Daemien’s replay it looks like they’re using the guild alert system, so their response time is quick, even offline. We need to hit them in the early morning, around 3 or 4am. With work and school starting tomorrow, that will give us the largest window. We’ll also need to shave off as much time from the gate destruction as possible, and source methods of reaching it unnoticed.
Daemien: Glad the video footage I sent you was some use after all. I can help destroy the gate. Don’t know how a possessed incubus stacks up against you two but it should be decent. Speaking of, if we include all three of Hammertime’s trusted allies that gives us nine people total. What classes are they?
Hammertime: Nice to have you on board, Daemien. I’ve got a pistoleer gunslinger, a paladin healer and an arcane support mage. Very devoted players, all very good at what they do. My mage may even have a solution to reaching the gate unseen. I’ll check with her. Can you fill the gaps Lillian?
Lillian: Not really. Between the betrayal yesterday and losing our seat just now, I don’t have a huge pool of players left to pick from. The one I trust the most is another paladin healer, then a support priest and a scout ranger. We have two support casters, two healers, two ranged damage, Daemien in a support/damage role and us two as tanks. It’s not terrible, but we lack magic damage. Do you have any damage mages you can trust?
Hammertime: Afraid not. Is it that important?
Lillian: Do you remember how Rising Tide broke through your headquarters gate last time? It’s important. If you don’t have anyone to nominate, I have a suggestion.
Hammertime: You’re insane. No. I thought you said they needed to be trustworthy? He’s the worst choice available, outright.
Lillian: If breaking down the gate in a hurry is a crucial factor and we currently lack magic damage, he’s the best fit by far. He’s a known enemy of Magnitude’s. He’ll jump at this chance. If we know what he wants, and what he wants aligns with what we want, he’s trustworthy...insofar as we can trust him to do what he wants.
Daemien: Please tell me we’re not talking about Aetherius.
Lillian: Aetherius’s biggest problem at the moment is Magnitude, not us. The combo we developed for breaches would massively cut down the time it takes to get through the gate, which is crucial for the plan to work. We need to destroy that Portal Stone before the reinforcements arrive, every second is crucial. I don’t have anyone else who can work that strategy. We need him and he needs us.
Daemien: Someone will have to talk to him.
Lillian: It has to be me. I’ll get in touch with him through one of his old friends in Rising Tide and lay it out.
Daemien: Last time I saw him, he alerted the Carlisle-Elite to our location to try and get me killed. What if you tell him the plan and he leaks it?
Hammertime: That’s a good point. Does the potential reward outweigh the risk?
Lillian: I’ll be sparing on the details. Worst-case scenario, we all die. At Magnitude’s current recruitment rate this will be the last good opportunity we have and it needs to count. Aetherius is many things, but he’s not stupid. Helping Magnitude win guarantees he’ll lose. He’ll take the opportunity to strike a blow at Magnitude, who represents the greater threat, and he’ll ally with us.
Daemien: I’m against this. But if it’s enough reason for you to talk to him, you must be pretty sure it’s the right option. We’ve taken a toll on each other today. I’m not happy with how things have gone, but I don’t think you deserve to deal with him for a second. Especially if you’re not feeling 100%. Are you sure?
Lillian: I’ll manage. Hammertime, get your three players together as fast as possible and brief them. I leave how much you want to tell them to your discretion, but let me know how much that is so we don’t cross our lines. Stay in touch and let me know your progress. We’ll hash out the details between us.
Hammertime: Time for a crusade.
9
Breach
Damien opened his eyes and found himself in a deserted cafe. All the noise associated with the setting was absent. The low hubbub of conversation, the clatter of cutlery, even the hum of traffic in the distance. In its place, there was only void. His own breathing was the only disturbance, disrespectfully loud in this sea of disquieting tranquility. That, and the faint ticking of an old-school analogue clock from behind the service counter. Cassandra had taught him how to read these things when he was little, not that it had come in handy much outside their one-on-one sessions. He looked around and winced as the squeak of his sneakers echoed off the walls.
“There you are.”
The voice was so sudden and so close that he jumped, turning to find Lillian in the cubicle right behind him. Given how badly they’d fallen out earlier that day, Damien had been surprised when Lillian invited him to talk face to face (or at least the Mobius Enterprises-enabled next best thing).
He breathed through his nose and smirked to alleviate his embarrassment, but Lillian did not share his mirth. She’d opted for all the defaults, wearing the same gray jogging outfit that Saga Online opted for during calibration and avatar creation. Damien had been excited to test the software of Mobius’s ‘Second Life’ system, running through the free options available that day to find some branded choices
he felt complemented his sense of style: baggy jeans crisscrossed with decals, a pair of ultraviolet boot/sneaker hybrids and a massive denim hoodie that felt much too big, even though the app had made it clear this was the correct size for him.
It had been beyond cool when he was reviewing himself. It did not seem quite so cool now. He sheepishly sat down across from her, every movement making more noises that heightened his embarrassment. With no background noise and no hustle and bustle to mask his own impact on the surroundings, his every action felt ill conceived, poorly executed and uninspiring. It would probably not have been so awkward were he not being closely observed. Lillian had her hands clasped under her chin, as though in prayer, while staring at Damien over the top of them. Waiting for his chair to stop creaking as he shifted his weight, each minor movement and accompanying sound effect more awkward than the last.
At last, after he’d held himself uncomfortably still for what seemed like an eternity, she started to speak. Her words offered no comfort. If anything, they made the whole experience stranger still.
“I am recording this conversation for the purpose of sharing select parts of it with other relevant parties. I will not use it publicly. If this video or any parts of it reach the public domain without my consent, I will take action against those responsible, including but not limited to the application of the law.”
That was a very formal opening line. Not promising. Damien was recording as well, mainly because he’d never used Second Life before and had been considering posting it to his profile as a ‘slice of life’ update in the absence of any in-game footage. Lillian’s intro did not do much to promote that as a viable option. She’d only paused for a couple of seconds before she continued talking, only slightly less tersely than she’d begun.
“I spoke to Andrew.”
“How did that go? I hope he wasn’t rude.”
“No, actually, he was surprisingly polite. He was a bit smug when he figured out I was asking for cooperation, but did his best to keep it to himself.”
