She wouldn’t just let him know about Baratus’ fate if he didn’t offer her the same, namely, Zinnia’s. It had been years, he mused; contrary to popular belief, time didn’t heal all wounds. If anything, even thinking about it still hurt like hell. But if he wanted to satisfy his curiosity, well, there was a price to be paid. He would try to cross that bridge when the time came, and not before. For now, he had too much free time, and too little to do with it.
He looked back at the window; the sky was black, now. “Huh, well,” he said out loud, “it’s still prettier in the game.”
***
“Right dad,” Amy said, holding a large beige folder, “here are all the documents regarding Bjornson’s. Patents, registries, fiscal logs,” she produced a particular piece of paper, “the certificate of authenticity! Damn dad, it’s really a lot, what you’ve accomplished.”
“Maybe, maybe. Bout of corniness coming now, though.”
“Dad!” she cried.
“Don’t ‘dad’ me, Amy. I need you two kids to know that you are my greatest accomplishments, whatever happens.”
Jonas chuckled, “Gonna make me puke dad.”
“I think I just got diabetes!” quipped Amelia.
“Oh shut your traps both of you! Now,” said Angus clapping his hands, “can we get these scanned into Alterwelt?”
The siblings shared a confused look. Amelia spoke, “Dad, just what the hell did you get yourself into?”
“Long story short,” Angus replied, “Some asshole lordling, Liberath, is trying to get me to shut down ‘cause I didn’t join one of his guilds.”
“Wait, hold on dad,” Jonas said, “You got into a row with one of the lords of Alterwelt?”
“I did, so what?”
“Dad, why do you think they’re called ‘lords?’”
Angus shrugged, “Don’t know, don’t care. Far as I know, he’s some bully who’s trying to use some leverage he thinks he has to push people around.”
“What leverage is he using?” his son asked.
“He sent me a cease and desist, saying he’s the owner of the Bjornson name in Alterwelt,” Angus grinned manically, “he’s in for quite a treat.”
“Dad,” said Amelia, sitting next to him, “I really need you to tell me, why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Going up against one of the lords without even knowing what they stand for?”
Angus sighed. Amy reminded him so much of Zinny at times. “Right, you want answers, so do I. Tell me, what’s the deal with these ‘lords?’”
“Well,” his daughter said, “Alterwelt is a simulation, you know? They needed some sort of government. An administrative wing, really.”
“That’s why some idiot programmed in lawyers and the like?”
Amelia nodded, “Precisely. It’s stupid as hell, I know, but well, consider that Alterwelt is a generally accurate simulation, or at least as accurate as you can get when simulating magic and so on. Besides, Rhetorics as a stat needed a function.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” she said with a shrug, “that if you’re a witless, fucking idiot, a high Rhetorics stat would get you far.”
“Hm, right. What kind of people get to become lords?”
“Mostly,” his daughter replied, “people who focus their builds on administrative skills and diplomacy, much as in real life.”
Angus scoffed, “A simulation so advanced, it simulates politicians!”
“Mhm. In practice, however, many of the lords are actually relatives of either the game’s devs, or people high up in Imperium Games.”
“Why so?”
“Imperium Games is the core branch of the conglomerate, dad. They have power in every virtual reality. Mostly, they don’t enforce it, but when they do, oh,” she shook her head, “they enforce it hard.”
“Game Masters?”
“You got it, dad. Game masters aren’t affiliated with any particular virtual space, but with Imperium itself. That’s why most people don’t even consider them as viable avenues for conflict solving.”
“Hmm,” Angus took a gnarled hand to his chin, feeling bothered at the slight pain and numbness he felt. “Let’s say worse comes to worst. How do we go about contacting a Game Master?”
“Well dad,” Jonas said, “that’s the thing, isn’t it? Things have to be really, really bad for a Game Master to even get involved.”
“Enlighten me,” Angus said, folding his hands over his lap. At least that position didn’t hurt so much.
“You’d need to submit a ticket straight to Imperium, describing your case, the perpetrator, the way it affects you,” his son shrugged, “then wish to a shooting star that you get heard at all.”
“Hm, in that case, let’s consider it a worst case scenario.”
“Dad,” said Amelia, “what do you think a ‘worst case scenario’ would be?”
Angus gritted his teeth, momentarily looking away. He wasn’t about to reveal his determination, not to Jonas and Amy, no. Still, he needed to give them a satisfying answer. “Consider this: I am not the first person to go against Liberath’s whims. A spoiled, rotten brat, that’s what he is, no doubt the kind who gets bullied to hell and back, and does his best to be the bully when he gets any whiff of power. But I digress…point is, there was someone else who went against him,” he paused, “and got banned.”
“I don’t like where this is going, dad,” said his daughter, a concerned furrow in her brow.
“Neither do I. I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t obvious who I mean. It is obvious, isn’t it?”
Both his kids nodded. Jonas said “Baratus.”
“Exactly. And well, you know the story better than I do. Branded a hacker, shunned, shamed, and ultimately banned.”
“Well yes,” Amelia said, “but dad, that guy is a confirmed hacker. He was commissioned an item to prove that he was the one who made his stuff, not a trainer program.”
“What was the item?” Angus asked.
“A... hm,” she shook her head, “I don’t quite remember. Jonny?”
Her brother shrunk his shoulders. “Dunno either.”
“Right,” Angus said, “here’s what we’ll do: Jonas, you go and scan every damn scrap of paper you can find in that folder. If there’s so much as a shit-stained piece of toilet paper, I want it scanned!”
“Ew dad, that’s gross! But you got it!”
“Right. Amy?”
“Dad?”
“Can you search... well, tickets, registries, logs, anything, about Baratus and his banning?”
“Hmm, I think there’s a section on the Alterwelt forums dedicated to people who were banned, they’re immortalized there.”
“As a cautionary tale?”
“As an example, dad.”
“Cruel, but I can see the point. Right, we’re wasting time. You go see what item Baratus was commissioned with. Amy?”
“Yes dad?”
“I offer you a wager: If the thing’s a ring, you get me a beer.”
Amelia smiled widely when she said “You’re on, old man!”
Both Amelia and Jonas left Angus’ room, leaving him in contemplation once more. So, he thought, Baratus was commissioned an item. An easy task, truth be told—one which would demonstrate, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was the craftsman’s skills at work, and not a program’s. As he recalled it, the flaw with hacking programs was that the items they produced were too perfect, a matter he could understand wholeheartedly: He had seen various industry-made weapons and armor, and though they were functional—and undeniably pretty—they were notoriously machine-made. A truly handmade weapon had kinks, chinks, and other blemishes which gave them character, as they were signatures of the smith working on them.
Well, Angus thought, someone played Baratus dirty. I can imagine who it was, but, then again, ain’t a lot of proof to be had right now. He would worry about that later.
Yet another bridge to cross when the time came. As it was, he was wasting too much time, leading him to wonder, how was Altara doing?
***
“And I told you to piss right off!”
Liberath’s grin was nearly reaching his ears, “Dear lady, you must understand, this paper here entitles me to, hah, well,” he said, making Altara think damn it I hate his shit-eating grin! “Say the same at you.”
“And this ‘ere weapon,” she said, brandishing a longsword, “says you can shove it wherever it fits!”
“My, oh my! Such hostility is unbecoming of a lady!”
“I’m sure you know a lot about what’s becomin’ for a lady, Libby.”
Liberath’s grin faded at the comment, “Careful now, wench. I’ve been given legal capacity to breach this establishment,” he paused, his grin returning, “with force, if necessary.”
“Hah, and I was born yesterday. That piece o’ glorified toilet paper only lets you evict the owner of the place, that is, Hephaestus himself. Now, do you see ‘im ‘round ‘ere?”
“No,” Liberath said in an oily voice, “But I see you here, and as I understand, you’re partners with him, are you not?” He chuckled, “No wonder, really, birds of a feather flock together.”
Altara’s eyes narrowed, “Fuck do you mean?”
“I mean,” the lord replied, “that the kind of... rabble you, woman, tend to gravitate towards is, quite sadly I must say, predictable. Hackers, aren’t they? This man, Hephaestus, as much of an undesirable ass as your boyfriend was. Hah! Quite a rhyme there isn’t it?”
“Cut it out, Libby.”
“In truth,” Liberath exclaimed, “I wonder whether this new friend of yours, Hephaestus... Well, he strikes me as stronger-willed than your old partner. Baratus, hmm,” the lord began pacing, the heels of his boots resonating on the cobblestones. “You know? I must admit, now that I think of it, that I never got to interact a lot with Baratus. I remember little about the man, other than him being, well, a simpleton. I remember the day he made the greatest mistake of his life.”
“Hah, not skewerin’ you when he had a chance?”
“My dear lady, I’m beyond things as simple as violence. No; your former associate signed his... hm, death warrant, the moment he refused my proposal.” Altara grinded her teeth; a fact noticed by Liberath. “Truly, had he been wiser and less egotistical, he would still be around us, wouldn’t he? Both in-game, and outside, to be sure. Alas,” he said, still pacing ponderously, “he had such a bright future ahead of him, didn’t he? A top master craftsman, receiving exclusive deals, recognition, fame even, just as his idol, Angus Bjornson.” He paused, slowly turning to face Altara. “Tell me, how did he do it?”
Altara’s face drained of blood, as her mien darkened. She noticed Liberath’s manservant leaning close to his ruler, “Sire, I must advise against provocations.”
He was stalled by Liberath lifting his arm, his grin as pronounced as ever. “So, tell me, how, when did it happen?”
“Cut it out,” spat Altara.
Liberath shrugged, “Cut what out? Merely a question stemming from friendly curiosity, nothing else. So,” he said, resuming his pacing, “Baratus... I never knew him in real life. I assume you do, or rather did, didn’t you?” he paused, turning towards her, “Alastara?” Altara’s knuckles cracked as she gripped the handle of her sword. She felt every muscle of her body growing taut. “A sad, sad affair, the vagaries of ludopathy; why, I fail to understand how someone would grow so caught up in a game—a videogame at that, to, well, make it their modus vivendi.” Altara said nothing. “One shudders at wondering what manner of circumstances, what sort of, if you would excuse my language, shithole life one must live to prefer a videogame over their reality.
Because that’s what happened, isn’t it? Baratus couldn’t stomach getting banned. So the coward killed himself.”
“Last warning,” said Altara, “cut it out.”
“My dear lady, no hostilities, please! I merely ask out of healthy curiosity, nothing more. So, answer me this: Did he put a gun to his head? Did he drink a poisonous draught? Did he jump off a building?” He paused, smiling widely once more, “do you even know?”
That’s it! Thought Altara, as she lunged against the lordling. She could well get killed in-game, banned even. Fuck it, she thought, fuck it all! The bastard needed comeuppance, consequences over his actions, and god damn it, god DAMN it all to hell!
She would at least try to make him squeal as the swine he was.
***
“So,” said Amelia as she entered Angus’ room, “Stout, or lager?”
“Amy?” asked Angus.
“The beer, stout or lager?”
“We can settle that later, Amy. What did you find?”
“What I found is that, first, you were right: Baratus was commissioned with making a ring, an engraved metal band with zerolite inlays, and a stone in its center. I have a question, though.”
“Ask away.”
Amelia sat on Angus’ bedside. Staring intently at her father, she asked, “How did you know?”
Angus sighed. “Remember Altara?”
“Your in-game friend?” she said darkly, “yes. I do.”
“Well, there’s a reason why she’s working with me, trying to get money.”
“Oh?”
“She wants to make enough dosh to purchase a certain item from Liberath, a ring, crafted by Baratus before he was banned.”
Amelia shook her head, “Dad, there’s no way that’s the same ring.”
“My turn to ask, ‘oh?’”
His daughter gave him a sheet of paper, a screen capture of the forum thread regarding Baratus’ case, “As you can see here, dad, Baratus was given an opportunity to prove, before a certified administrator, that he produced the item by himself, without using any form of trainer or hacking program. The only problem is, here,” she pointed at a line almost at the bottom of the page, “he never made the ring!”
“He didn’t? Right, let me ask you another question: Can you see who’s the administrator in charge of overseeing the item’s production?”
“What? Oh, I er... didn’t check.”
“Could you, please?”
“Right on, dad.” She took out her phone, quickly entering Alterwelt’s forums. She accessed the page, her eyes narrowing as she scanned through the page, “Dad?”
“Amy?”
“Who’s the… ah, person you ran afoul of?”
“One lord Liberath Saldigraad, or some crap like that, why?”
She turned towards her father, concern in her eyes. “Dad, are you absolutely sure that’s the name?”
“Positive. Why? What’s with him?”
Amelia sighed, “I think I might owe you a beer keg after this. That guy, Liberath, is the one who was commissioned with witnessing the making of the ring.”
In mere moments, Angus’ face registered a fair number of expressions: Confusion, realization, anger, disgust, then calm—dull, unfeeling calmness. “The son of a whore,” he said softly. “He played Baratus dirty. He saw the ring being made, knew Baratus wasn’t a hacker... but he chose not to report his findings!”
“Dad,” said Amelia, “that’s quite an accusation against a lord, Game Master worthy, to be sure.”
“Well Amy, then we have our leverage, should worse come to worst. Now we have to…“
He was interrupted by Jonas rushing into the room. “Sorry for the lateness, dad, damn scanner wouldn’t...” He noticed his father and his sister’s angry faces. “What? What did I miss?”
Neither answered. Amelia turned towards her father, “Dad, you left the woman, Altara, in the game?”
“I did, why?”
“Shit. Jonny, log in, dad you too, I’ll do the same!”
“Wha... Amy, what the hell is going on?” asked Jonas.
“What’s going on,” she replied, “is that we may have found evidence against a corru
pt lord. Now shut up, and log in!”
***
It felt good being back, Hephaestus mused, as he stretched his functional muscles, flexed his strong hands, jumped on his working legs. He had no time to contemplate his situation, however. There was no time to lose, and he had lost enough; minutes, sure enough, but in game? In-game, hours had passed.
The login and loading processes were complete, and Hephaestus appeared in the middle of Arken’s plaza. He turned around to assess his surroundings, out of habit more than actual need. This time, however, it might have served a purpose: The plaza was empty. Strange, he thought, as the place was normally bustling with activity; now, however, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Two more people appeared close to him: Falcata and Talwar, materialized after logging in. They walked towards their father; Falcata took the lead, saying “Dad! Where the hell’s everyone?”
Hephaestus shrugged, “No idea, but I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I,” said his daughter, “Come on, let’s get to the forge.
They made their way to Bjornson and Baratus Arms and Armor. Along the way, they saw clusters of people muttering amongst themselves; Hephaestus caught hints of conversations as he rushed past them:
“...attack a Lord?”
“Sad business, really.”
“Another hacker getting caught, no doubt.”
“Pathetic.”
“Should get banned, pronto!”
Hephaestus had no idea what they were talking about. It didn’t matter, however, as the hushed whispers he caught in passing made him feel a pit forming in his stomach. He didn’t want to think ahead though, focusing instead on the path towards his forge. The further he advanced, the thicker the throng became, leading him to worry even more. The fact that he noticed his children’s and especially his daughter’s anxiety wasn’t reassuring to him.
They rounded the last corner to reach the forge; their path was blocked by the largest mass of people they had encountered yet. After too many excuse-mes, and pardon-mes, as well as a number of fuck-offs, they reached the front of the multitude. “No,” whispered Hephaestus as he became witness to the spectacle enthralling the onlookers.
True Smithing: A Crafting LitRPG Series Page 22
