by Oliver Mayes
This could be the boss, which would explain why Hammertime hadn’t got anywhere with no gear. That would fit the usual layout for a dungeon: dodgy stuff, dodgy stuff, mini-boss, dodgy stuff, boss. This was not a normal dungeon, though. Not to mention, bosses tended to be a bit more talkative. Lillian kept edging closer and suddenly what she’d been waiting for appeared above the mysterious stranger’s head. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was in green writing. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t hostile.
‘The Lady of the Lake’
Lillian briefly recalled Mordred, the baby that had turned into a giant spider and eaten Damien. He’d been right to be suspicious of the baby. That had been very obviously something that did not belong. While the Lady also seemed out of place, she was far too suspicious to warrant her placement as an ambush attack. Mobius would’ve made her less weird. Lillian put her weapons away and introduced herself.
“Hi. I’m Lillian. This is Aetherius. We’re here for Excalibur.”
The Lady looked at each of them in turn. Then she began to speak.
“Those who fain would wield yonder sword…”
Oh no. That’s why there was no visible riddle in here: this watery tart was feeding it to them verbally. Lillian cleared her mind to absorb the Lady’s words as she finished the first sentence.
“…Must be beyond all fear and all reproach,
But claiming these traits falsely is abhorred,
So clad yourself in truth, lest you encroach.”
It seemed simple enough. Don’t be scared. Don’t be...reproachable. Tell the truth. This riddle was playing Lillian’s jam. Her bread and butter, too. The Lady of the Lake stepped aside and Lillian gave her a nod as she strolled past.
“Well at least that was easy. It’s the next part I’m worried about. Andrew?”
She looked back to find Andrew behaving in a very peculiar fashion. He’d stopped a few steps past the Lady and appeared to have adopted the same water-based glamor, except he was also floating up off the floor, thrashing his arms around in slow motion. He was drowning in thin air. He swiveled round and waded forward a short way before falling to the floor on his hands and knees, dry as a bone. He got up and ranted at their host, but despite the short distance between them there was no sound. Lillian raised her voice.
“I can’t hear you! Can you hear me?”
She’d spoken to him over party chat, yet he still hadn’t heard anything. Andrew held up a finger for her to wait and started typing. There was no sign of any barrier, but it was clearly there. It made sense. You couldn’t have two people going for Excalibur at once. She opened her menu to see what Andrew had just sent.
Aetherius: The riddles have all been based on the primary virtues. The only one we haven’t seen so far is humility. Try to be humble. Look behind you.
Lillian did as she was told and found the throne occupied. By whom, she could not fathom. He did not look like a king. Nor did he look like a boss. He didn’t look like anything Lillian had ever seen. He was beautiful, but undeniably alien. It was hard to say whether he or the Lady of the Lake was the stranger of the pair. He was old, judging from his neatly coiffured silver hair, but his face bore none of the signs of old age. Not so much as a single blemish. His features were sharp, from his pointed nose and chin to his piercing blue eyes.
Stranger than his appearance was the way he sat on the throne. He didn’t look like he belonged there. He was poised on the very edge of the seat bolt upright, his limbs tightly pressed against his body. He was composed entirely of straight lines. His clothes were not unfitting for the seat he occupied: a silver quilted robe, held across the waist by a metallic golden sash beset with jewels of several sorts that gleamed in the light from the stained-glass windows. The robe ended just below the knees, beneath which there were garments of a very different nature. Tight black leather pants, ending in gold plate boots.
Who was this character? Lillian looked above his head and decided he was stranger than the Lady of the Lake, if only by a hair. At least she was named. This individual was not.
‘?????????’
As Lillian reached the bottom of the steps an icon appeared in the top right of her screen. She recognized it immediately: it was a heart rate monitor. Her heart rate was currently sitting at 75bpm. That was higher than usual for her. Was that in game, out of game or simulated? She had no idea. What she did know was that she’d been told to be beyond fear. The situation was tense, the NPCs were unnerving and the stakes were pretty damn high. Lillian could still do better. She took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. Her heart rate obligingly dropped to 65bpm, and was going lower before the man in front of her spoke.
“Tell me about yourself.”
“My name is Lillian. I’m nineteen years old. I graduated—”
She’d been told to clad herself in truth. This did not appear to be the truth the stranger in front of her was searching for. A single commanding syllable put an end to Lillian’s first attempt at an introduction.
“No.”
Then softer, but authoritative.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Okay. Saga Online-based truth then.
“I co-led a prominent Empire guild, Rising Tide, for over two months. During that time we were the most active guild in the Empire’s service, with a combined—”
“No. Tell me about yourself.”
Her bpm was starting to steadily rise. What did he want?
“I’m trying. Can you phrase your question more clearly?”
He stared at her and Lillian stared back, keeping her breathing slow and steady. When he spoke again, her heart rate jumped to 85bpm.
“Why do you want to wield Excalibur?”
Did she answer the last question correctly? Seemed unlikely. She wasn’t dead yet, so she wasn’t out of it yet either. Stick to the truth.
“Because it’s a legendary weapon. Anyone would—”
“No. Why do you want to wield Excalibur?”
“I want to rule Camelot.”
“Why?”
A new pattern. Was she going the right way? Better to answer quickly than hit whatever the threshold was that would cause her to crash out by default.
“Because I think I’d be pretty good at it.”
The man’s eyes flared. He looked over her shoulder at the Lady of the Lake, then swept a hand over his knee, as if he were clearing away some dirt.
“My associate will show you out.”
Lillian didn’t even have time to ask what he meant before she found out. There was no warning when the hit came. It struck her in the chest, picked her up and smashed her into the ground. Every time she hit the red carpet, she was picked back up and smashed into it again from a great height. An invisible wave, without the wet. The wave itself did not hurt too much. The repeated contact with the ground did. She’d been thoroughly pulverized by the time she found herself approaching Andrew from a great height.
The Lady of the Lake stepped neatly to one side and Andrew had to Blink out of the way as Lillian crashed to the ground. She lay there for a few moments, her hit points teetering on the brink. At least she wasn’t dead, although a quick check of her HUD somewhat diminished the relevance of her survival. At some point during her transition from interviewee to flotsam, the bpm monitor had been replaced with a new message:
Time to next audience: 12 hours
“Lillian, what happened?”
Lillian gingerly pushed herself to her feet and several of the armored plates covering her clattered to the floor. Her gear had held up against Archimonde and the Black Knight, but this was the last straw. She and Andrew picked up the pieces and started putting them into her inventory.
“Well I didn’t get Excalibur, in case you were wondering. Now it’s making me wait twelve hours before I can go again. I don’t think he liked me very much.”
She gestured at the throne, only then noticing that the strange man sitting in it was nowhere to be seen. At least she’d have twelve hours to prepare
for her next go, unless Andrew got it first.
“Fancy a crack at it? I can tell you the questions, so you’d be better prepared than I was.”
“Pass. Why take a beating for something I don’t want? I don’t get the impression I’d be able to just give it to you afterwards. I can still help you with it, though, if you like? I couldn’t hear anything you were saying in there, did you do the humble thing?”
“No, I did not. I’ll have another go at it next time. If failing the riddle always ends like that, I won’t survive the next one. I’ve already lost most of my constitution and armor from my equipment. Any gear Hammertime didn’t lose in the room before this one, he probably lost to this. He should be back to take his turn in a while, if he doesn’t succeed we’ll give it another shot.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Uh, yeah, besides getting beaten up by the floor. Why do you ask?”
“Why do you suddenly not care if Hammertime gets Excalibur?”
“I already told him what he needed to hear, although he didn’t make it easy. Magnitude is a bigger threat. Every day, the Carlisle-Elite recruits more players who can take quests in Glastonbury, access the Inner Circle, level up past 50 and get new gear and traits. It won’t be long before the power gap is huge. Regardless of who does it, someone needs to sort this mess out in a hurry. I can live with Hammertime having Excalibur if it means Magnitude is dealt with.”
“That’s very noble, Lillian. Can’t say I agree. I didn’t come all this way to watch you gracefully step aside for a bully. Rather than rooting for the flavor of sewage we hate less, how about you get your head back in the game?”
“Andrew, it’s been nothing but drama since I logged in. For once I’m about ready to take a break. Besides, twelve-hour timer, remember? Unless you want to try it there’s nothing for us to do but wait.”
“If you’re free...maybe you could show me the talk with Hammertime and we can talk about the riddle. Together? Over lunch.”
“Over lunch?”
“If there’s no point in us being here for the next twelve hours, we may as well do something useful. You said we should let Hammertime attempt Excalibur and I’ve made it clear I disagree. That means keeping me logged out should be your top priority for the next twelve hours. Or am I mistaken?”
“Is that so? What if I gave you a direct order not to kill Hammertime?”
“I’m not saying I’d disobey your order, I’m just subtly implying it’s possible unless you come have lunch with me. Besides, it’s lunchtime, the time at which regular humans eat lunch. You still eat, right?”
“Occasionally. You know what? Lunch is on me. Can we maybe figure out the details after we log out? We’ve got a bit of a third-wheel situation here.”
The two of them slowly turned their heads to look at the Lady of the Lake, who was just doing her thing: staring at them while looking all floaty and mysterious. Andrew gave her a grin and a wave. No response. Creepy. He kept his eyes on her while talking to Lillian out of the corner of his mouth.
“Agreed. I’ll be waiting, so you better actually log out this time.”
“Stop rubbing it in! I’ll see you on the other side.”
The two of them followed each other out of logout, leaving Saga behind them.
22
Hide and Seek
Damien was back in the first chamber. Now he knew what he had to deal with, he wanted to be in as good a shape as possible beforehand. He turned on the livestream as he accustomed himself to his enhanced movements, waiting for the numbers to increase. He reached for a throwing knife, only to find it wasn’t there. The sling was gone. Great, so now he’d have to do that all over again. At least he knew what he was doing this time round.
As the viewer count picked up, he prepared new stones from his inventory and addressed his audience for the first and last time.
“Hi everyone. Today is all business. I’ll be saving commentary for the review video. Enjoy the ride.”
He turned the viewer count off. No distractions today. He was all set. He knew what he needed to do. They could just enjoy the show, or find something else worth watching. It’s not like he was the only creator of content. If they didn’t like his footage, rather than whining about it they could always find something they enjoyed.
Damien crouched down and headed back into the danger zone. He opened the chest in the first room and found a brand-new knife sling. Good, the chests reset when he died. He wouldn’t have got very far if they didn’t. He took a knife in each hand and made his final checks:
Knives out, knives out, elbows in, elbows in, knees apart, knees apart.
A-do-be-da-be-do-be-da-be-do-be-da-da.
In Damien went, the two knives leaving his hands and the next two entering them halfway through his first evasive roll. He already had the system down for this room. After his second well-timed roll, Shadow Walker bolstered his stealth and he was once again able to position himself for the next easy double throw. It was essentially a warm-up, with the additional benefits of easy experience and soul energy.
Those benefits were diminishing as he got closer to level 50. He finished the room and recovered the throwing knives and souls, only to find the urchins had again dropped 2 souls each rather than 2.5. They were down half a soul from yesterday. At least the number of souls per urchin was stable, unlike outside of the Dark Tower. He’d just have to kill more urchins than he originally planned.
He made his way through the room, throwing rocks aplenty. His higher level allowed him to see the urchins without throwing rocks if he came a little too close to them for comfort. He was still a little too low level to be attempting what he was doing, but it was an improvement. With 8 out of 10 souls, his first port of call was to kill the urchins behind the chest. One would suffice for filling his Soul Reserve, but he’d have to kill both of them to get out safely afterwards. There were plenty of other urchins in range too, which he’d start with after he’d drained his Soul Reserve.
It was much easier to repeat the process when he was doing it on purpose rather than by accident. Much faster, too. Damien opened the chest without allowing himself to be struck by the lid and found it empty. Shame. While another pair of Darkstriders would’ve been more than welcome, he only needed the safe space it provided in the middle of this hostile environment, where a single misplaced word would be enough to draw unwanted attention.
His vantage point in the chest occupied, secured and finally vacated, he followed the urchin road into Mordred’s antechamber and summoned ten imps. For the first time since they’d entered, Noigel’s Forbidden Knowledge was active and he could speak properly, which was not to be confused with appropriately. The moment the tenth imp dropped to the floor, Noigel reminded Damien of everything he’d been missing.
“Why no succubus? Come on, master, I was murdered by a giant spider yesterday! And the time with the succubus wasn’t even five minu—”
“The succubus isn’t useful for what we’re doing. If we fail this run, that’s another twenty-four hours without a succubus for you. Hold all the imps in this room. I’m going farming.”
Damien was heading back out, checking for more stones to throw, when Noigel landed on his shoulder.
“What if we succeed?”
“Why are you still talking to me? I gave you an order: hold the imps in this room!”
“Yeah, I’m following the order. Look: see how all the imps are still here, in the room? I’m just that good. No succubus for another twenty-four hours if we fail. What if we succeed? Another not five minutes with you watching? Come on, give me something to work with here!”
Oh no. Noigel was becoming pushier by the day. He’d been much more compliant when they’d been focused on base-building, allowing Damien to leave him to his own vices and devices at length. That still hadn’t stopped Noigel from pushing his luck in the field, though. And now here, trying to bargain with Damien instead of focusing on the task at hand.
The stakes were high for
Damien. If he wanted maximum performance, he’d have to make them high for Noigel as well. He could do that, in both directions.
“As you wish. I can fit four succubi into a Soul Well, plus you...and a spectator imp, to look on and see how privileged you are, if that’s something you’d be into. If you act out in this dungeon, like you did with Aetherius, you’ll be watching imp number two.”
It was like flipping a switch. Noigel gave a sharp salute and glided back to his team. They all gathered around the table as Noigel organized them into pairs and they began what appeared to be a rock/paper/scissors tournament. Good enough.
Damien retook his position in the chest. He was sure this wasn’t what Mobius had in mind. This room had all the hallmarks of a stealth test, not a farming opportunity. After much rock throwing, knife slinging, repositioning and somehow a complete lack of cursing, Damien killed another five urchins, filling his SouL Reserve. His throws became less accurate as his targets got further away, his knives shattering when they hit stone instead of flesh. He still had a full knife sling waiting for him in Mordred’s antechamber, so no big deal.
The imps were so focused on Noigel’s latest game that they barely noticed Damien’s return. Noigel had tired of rock/paper/scissors and had used the available resources to come up with something a bit more engaging. The resources were the knives from Damien’s as yet unclaimed knife sling and the table they’d been placed on. The game was ‘Five-Finger Fillet’, more colloquially known as the ‘Don’t Stab Yourself in the Finger’ game. The imp variant was, of course, ‘Four-Finger Fillet’, a category also open to humans who’d hard failed at Five-Finger Fillet.
