Orc Glitch- The Mad King

by KJ Harlow

  Cal snorted but Hector ignored him. The eryn stared straight ahead, not giving any indication that she heard him. “From the moment you were allocated to be my defender, I’ve done nothing but mistreat you. Yet you stuck by my side and have just birthed my baby. I don’t expect you to accept my apology, but know that I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Laish turned and looked at Hector, a small smile on her face. It was genuine, but something else was weighing down heavily on her that made her unable to offer more joy.

  Hector then looked at Fairshade. “In a fraction of a moonshift, you did what Fetter couldn’t do in the entire time that I served under him: made me want to die for my king.” Fairshade turned and gave him his full attention. “Ever since I swore allegiance to Fetter, my life has been nothing short of hell. I’ve massacred entire villages, killed innocents and been the biggest shithead on Terrafaytum.”

  “I’ll say,” Cal said under his breath.

  Hector let it slide. “He was never happy, taking out his bottomless hatred on me by killing me.”

  Fairshade narrowed his eyes. “Killed you? But–”

  “Suffice to say that he made my life a living hell. The ultimate humiliation was being demoted, though that was a blessing in disguise because it led me to finding Grace.”

  “Anyway, I’m going off track. We wanted to combine part of Fairshade’s name and Laish’s name and the best I could come up with was Feylisha.” He shrugged. Everyone was quiet.

  “It is a fine name and I am honoured that my legacy will live on in your daughter.” Fairshade inclined his head.

  “Please,” Hector approached the king with open arms, only for Cist to step between them.

  “Lightblade, stand–”

  “No,” Hector said, dropping his arms. “As much as I would like you to be my king, I am still under the rule of Fetter,” he sighed.

  “With any luck, that won’t be the case come 10-Sibelle,” Cal said. Hector looked at him curiously. He nodded slowly as Cal filled him in. “I see. I have sworn myself under the kingdom of Dresham. If the king changes, my allegiance shouldn’t.”

  “I would very much like you to stay in Dresham.” Fairshade said. “Feylisha is born in the shadow of a tyrant but it is my goal that this will be fleeting, not permanent.”

  “Like I said, I would die for you over and over if you wanted me to,” Hector responded.

  Fairshade nodded. “Well, it’s best I continue building some houses so that you might have some neighbours.”

  “I’m not much use but I would love to help.” He glanced back over his shoulder again. “Just let me…” Fairshade waved him off.

  He watched the soldier jog back to the house, Laish floating lazily behind him. “Did he really massacre a whole village?”

  Kai glared after him. “Like he said, he was an absolute cunt.”

  “Here, I think this piece belongs to that house over there.” Hector threw a long plank that was jagged on both ends across to Cal. He had initially tried co-operating with Kai, but the werejaguar put himself on the opposite end of the square, as far away as possible from Hector. Laish was also silently floating around the square, organising pieces of house that belonged together.

  “Your Majesty, you must rest.” Cist implored.

  The light faded from Fairshade’s hands and he wiped the sweat off his brow. “I will do no such thing, not yet.” He stepped back to admire his work. He had built another eight houses, spanning them out around the square. From above, they looked like baby teeth of a cheeky toddler, her mouth open wide. Each house had taken longer and longer; rain came and went as Flulia sunk more and more into the horizon.

  “You have an important fight that you must be rested for.”

  “Just one more.”

  “Seriously, if Fairshade was my king, this game might have been a lot more fun.” Hector eyed the king batting away Cist’s reaching hands.

  “You can’t tell me it wasn’t fun cutting my head off.”

  Hector glanced at him, a boyish grin on his face. “Yeah, that was pretty wicked.” The grin faded quickly. “I thought it would be a lot more fun being the bad guy. Here.” He threw another shorter plank towards Cal. They stopped for a moment, watching a house magically put itself back together as Fairshade sidestepped around it.

  “Fetter’s going to be tough to beat.”

  “About that.” Cal turned to him. “There’s something I heard. Maybe you’ll know more about it.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Cal hesitated. “I stumbled across the camp outside Bracewell after… after Fetter…”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah. There were a few colleagues of yours, Col and Susannah. Ring any bells?”

  Hector snorted. “Col is a prick. Don’t know what he’s got against me. But he’ll be happy now that he’s been promoted to commander.”

  Cal paused. “I overheard him saying that if Fetter were to be killed in game he would actually be dead.”

  Hector looked across at Laish flapping her powerful wings, putting reverse thrust to yank a roof frame that was still in tact. “Yeah, that’s right. When I was still commander, there were times I overheard him and C discussing it.” He frowned and looked at the rubble in front of him, as if it contained the next thing he wanted to say.

  “He’s definitely a player, but… there is something strange about him. Not just the fact that he’s OP, but something else.” Hector looked at Cal. “C made him OP so that he was virtually indestructible. Not only that, but every time any one of us soldiers or the eryn killed anyone, he would get a share of our EXP. Something like a tenth of a percent per kill.”

  “You serious? So he could just literally sit there, do nothing and get passively stronger?”

  Hector nodded. “But if he dies in game, it’s permadeath. He’s gone for good.”

  Cal stared at Hector. “How sure are you of that?”

  “Only as sure of what I heard and I spent a lot of time walking next to his carriage.” Seeing Cal’s perplexed look, Hector sighed. “He wanted me close by in case he felt like killing me.”

  Cal and Hector continued sorting debris, each lost in their own thoughts. Cal had only killed the dozen or so Dresham soldiers, the first one being Hector back in Bracewell. He felt no remorse at all watching the life fade away from their eyes knowing that moments later they would respawn. If what Hector said was true and Fetter did actually die in real life if he died in game, would he be unable to deliver the final blow, if he was given the opportunity?

  Cal replayed the stand off between the two kings in Thaylia Castle earlier. There could not have been more of a difference in personality. In the back of his mind, Cal knew that the Fairshade was just an NPC but his flaws and journey was believable and human. It’s just a game, Cal mumbled to himself. To him, the statement was hollow. This was life now.

  “Hey Hector.”

  “Yah bro.”

  The orc stood up and winced, stretching his back. “Do you know what the Battle of Urath is?”

  Hector dropped a piece of debris and crossed his arms. “Yeah. It was the whole reason that me and every other soldier you’ve met got stuck in ValorVale in the first place.” Cal and Hector walked away from the square. The soldier led him into a dingy alleyway that Cal had to squeeze through. After turning side ways to walk through the door, he looked around.

  The tavern stunk of sweat and other unmentionable smells. Soldiers sat at small, wooden tables, hunched over their amber drinks. They glanced up at Hector and Cal but didn’t say anything.

  “Get that orc out of here!” A moustachioed man with a monobrow pointed at the green humanoid in the doorway.

  “Theo relax, he’s with me.”

  Theo the barman slammed the glass he was polishing down on the bar. “I’m not having an orc in my bar.”

  Cal shuffled over to him, shoved his hands into his satchel and threw a fistful of red, blue and green shards onto the counter. “Two please and keep th
e change.”

  Theo stared at the currency, eyed Cal then swiped them off the table. Grumbling something about Thaylia not being the same since Fetter, he poured out two cold ones.

  “The Battle of Urath was the first event held in ValorVale. Up until that time, it had just been like any other MMORPG: get loot, kill monsters and play with other members.”

  Cal took another swill of his drink. It looked like beer and smelt like beer but when it hit his tongue, it tasted more like distilled honey. He was onto his third glass, while Hector had settled with one.

  “Every player in ValorVale received an in-game notification. In it, they were told to choose from three new kings and one new queen to swear allegiance to. In exchange, we would get access to limited-edition epic loot, train our own eryn and get the chance to lead an army.”

  “What loot did you get?” Cal asked.

  “Hector snorted then looked down at his chest plate. “This armor with the Dresham emblem on it, just like every other player. When everything is epic, nothing is epic.”

  “Anyway, Fetter is an Urath. I think it’s Latin for, ‘biggest, fucking tosser’.” Cal’s howling laugh earned a mean glare from Theo. “The Battle of Urath is supposedly meant to be a series of mini-wars between the countries of Terrafaytum.

  “There’s one every new moon on the first moonshift. The battles happen on borders between countries. The king or queen rallies their best soldiers and tries to wipe out the other country’s soldiers. The one who wins get to lay claim to land in the loser’s country.”

  “What’s the point?” Cal asked.

  “What’s the point indeed?” Hector sighed. “It was false advertising. The victories are hollow. We’re an expendable force. When we die, we just respawn. It’s all just a game to them. ”

  Now that Cal knew what the Battle of Urath entailed, he was glad the glitch prevented him from playing. But something didn’t add up. The Battles weren’t being held for the sake of being held. Was there something bigger at stake here that only the Urath knew about?

  “You want another one?” Hector shook his head. Cal raised a hand. Theo came around with another glass of the sweet ale. Just as he extended his hand, Theo yanked it away from him. “8 shards.” His moustache bristled. Cal dug into the satchel, found 10 and handed it over to him. As he left, raising the blue shard into the light, Cal leant in to Hector.

  “And what about the eryn?”

  “What about them?”

  “Well… it’s not like they’re Pokemon, right?”

  Hector leant back and laughed. “Yeah not quite.” His demeanor turned serious again. “Laish was allocated to me after I swore allegiance to Fetter. I spawned in the castle and there were a whole heap of these flying fighters just standing around. I couldn’t tell if they looked more pissed off or worried. After I got my gear, Laish comes up to me and says that she is bound to me.

  “We were told that they would defend us in battle but that in turn, we would also have to help them get stronger.” Hector glanced up at the orc, peering at him over the top of his glass. “Don’t look at me like that, OK? I know I was a jerk to her.”

  Cal put his glass down. “Didn’t seem like you were the only one. They’re all hiding something, though. They have a queen I think.”

  Hector shook his head. “I asked at the beginning but Laish was tight-lipped. I only knew because I heard Fetter mention it once, but nothing beyond that she wasn’t well. It was almost like Laish felt that she was under surveillance the entire time. If Fetter’s come in and knocked Fairshade off his throne, it’s possible that a similar thing’s happened in a different kingdom.” He reached across, pulled Cal’s half-finished glass towards him and took another sip. “This shit is worse than beer on Earth.”

  “I like it more. Tastes sweet.”

  “Must be an orc thing.” Hector stood up. “We’d better head back.”

  There was no sign of Fairshade or the Lightblades back at the square. There were five brand, new houses that weren’t there when Cal and Hector had gone to the tavern. Kai walked across the square towards Cal.

  “Cist finally managed to persuade Fairshade to stop for the night,” the werejaguar said. He made great efforts not to look at Hector.

  Cal looked all around him. The houses still looked too isolated. It would take several moonshifts, if not entire moons to finish rebuilding the houses but it was a start.

  “I’m going to check up on Grace and Feylisha, so…” Hector started backing away.

  “Hector wait.”

  The soldier stopped. He looked at Kai, who now had his head turned up at the remaining part of the water moon. It was unreasonable to expect the werejaguar and the human to make amends, especially after what the latter did to the former. To think that if Fairshade hadn’t decided to go to the square, he wouldn’t be standing with them right now.

  “Can Fairshade defeat Fetter?” Cal asked. Kai looked back at the orc.

  “Fairshade is strong, I’ll give you that. He’s still at a disadvantage against Fetter, even just level wise. But if Fairshade were to somehow gain the levels required to match him…” he trailed off. “I don’t know, but I know who I’m rooting for.”

  “Does Fetter have any weakness?”

  “Intelligent battle strategy,” Hector laughed hollowly. “He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, which is why he’s lucky that he’s OP. The longer you fight him, the higher the chance he’s going to win. He will wear you down with his swordplay, which to be fair isn’t that bad. Then he’ll finish you off with Spire Maiden. Your best bet is to kill him quickly. Oh and he might be working on summon craft.”

  “Summon craft? What is he trying to summon?”

  Hector shrugged. “Hopefully we won’t find out.”

  32

  The Kings’ Duel

  20,156th Cycle

  10-Sibelle

  Cal pulled up Fairshade’s stat sheet:

  NAME: Magnus Fairshade I

  AGE: 131 (Terrafaytum)

  CLASS: King of Dresham

  LVL: 145

  HP: 2,018/2,018

  MP: 2,205/2,205

  AFF: Water (x1)

  STR: 315+7%+2%+1%

  DEF: 325+6%+2%+1%

  AGL: 305+15%+1%+3%

  INT: 370+9%+3%+2%

  ABILITY: Examine, Royal Blood, Construct

  SKILL:

  Mist Greatsword – Level 63–25% to next level

  Glacial Shield – Level 64 – 17% to next level

  Ice Tomb – Level 59–56% to next level

  WEAPON: Sword – Level A – Next Level in 54%

  “Your Majesty.”

  Fairshade turned to Cist. “Do not fret, Lightblade. I have prepared well for this battle. Before you know it, I will be once again be atop of my throne while you will retreat to the comfort of the shadows.”

  He clasped the assassin’s forearm before taking a couple steps back.

  Magnus Fairshade has left your party!

  A bubble caved in then reformed around Fairshade with a pop. Cal looked at the other end of the square. C was standing there, her hair reflecting Sibelle’s yellow-brown light. He knew she was looking at him. He waited for a taunt via notification; nothing came.

  Cal reached out and touched the ward. If it wasn’t for his faint, flickering reflection, he could have sworn that nothing was there. Earth Wall. The cobblestones within the ward didn’t budge. Guess that threw out Plan A.

  Fetter hopped around between his feet, feinting and jabbing in the air. Col stepped in, unclasped the robe from his neck and removed it. Like a swimmer before a big swim, he shook his limbs out. Then, he too stepped into the ring.

  Cal stared at him. Examine.

  NAME: Fetter Knox

  CLASS: King of Dresham

  LVL: 148

  HP: 3,015/3,015

  MP: 1,800/1,800

  In the end, Cist had managed to persuade Fairshade to do some more training. He had been adamant about not going back to the Cataco
mbs. As such, it had been a real grind; the monsters outside Thaylia were too low level to give any meaningful EXP. It didn’t help that most tried to flee when they sensed the king’s power. Meanwhile, Fetter had gone about his life, having war meetings, orgies with succubi and kept passively levelling up.

  The ward shifted as Col stepped into the ring. Cal scanned the faces of the soldiers standing in formation. Hector wasn’t here. He had kept a low profile ever since the day his daughter was born. His house was nestled amongst a few others that had been built since the day Fairshade had thrown down the gauntlet. Local Thaylians skirted around the edges trying not to attract the attention of the soldiers while still getting a look at the epic scene unfolding in front of them.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the battle of the century!” Col announced. A spire crunched out the ground and hovered a foot away from his face. He spun around and waved his hands frantically. “Just kidding, just kidding.” Fetter untwisted his mouth and the spire fell back into the groove.

  “You have come here today to witness the duel of the kings.” He raised his right hand. “To my right, the king who ran away, Magnus Fairshade the First!” Boos and hisses slithered around the ward. From one look at their faces, Cal knew that the soldiers had been instructed to do this. Fairshade stared calmly at Fetter, arms loose by his side.

  “And to my left… the one and only Lord King Fetter!” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, scratching the ground like a miniature minotaur. His soldiers cheered, the eryn stone-faced. “Before we begin, let me go over the rules. This will be a real, bloody battle. If you get injured or die, we will not be held responsible. There is to be no outside interference from spectators. To ensure your full cooperation, the lovely maiden C has erected a ward that will nullify any craft attempting to get through it.”

  Cal glanced across the ward at her. She had her hood back over her head, her robe sucking the moonlight out of the air.