War Games

by Nikita Thorn

  “I’ll try.” Seiki laughed. “Maybe in six weeks. How about I bring documents to copy between wipes on the Ruins of Hitsu Temple to level the skill?”

  Kentaro blinked. “What—”

  “Okay, let’s get it going.” Mairin interrupted him, happy for something to do. “This is one of the best tricks in the game,” she said as she grabbed one of the Seals from the table. “Last time, when someone copied an Imperial Kimono onto their armor, it was like that magic dress-making scene from whatsit-called, uh, this very old cartoon?”

  Kentaro suggested the title of something Seiki had never heard of, and Mairin shook her head. “No, like, way older.”

  The kitsune obviously knew what to do, and had already stuck one of the Seals of Linkage onto the top of the black leather glove. Like the enchantment for blood-locks, the thin paper seal was self-adhesive and was full of busy symbols. “You could have chosen a better-looking glove, you know,” she said, turning Tanaka’s Black Leather Glove around in her hand. “Tanaka sure wasn’t very fashionable, whoever he was.”

  “Plain’s better,” said Seiki. “And black is good.”

  He had not specified for this one, but had simply asked Kentaro to find something unobtrusive. The glove, though plain, had +14 defense, which matched the current stat of the Crimsonfire Tekko and could therefore be used in the transformation process.

  Mairin picked up the other Seal of Linkage and Seiki unstrapped the Crimsonfire Tekko from his left hand and gave it to her. Again, as she placed the paper seal on the handguard, the magical rectangular paper glowed silver for a second to confirm successful application.

  “Here we go,” announced the kitsune in excitement.

  Ignoring Kentaro’s slight protest, Mairin swept the goods trays to one side and spread the Enchanted Scroll of Mirrored Illusion over the table, revealing tidy rows of text written in ancient characters—most of which Seiki could not read. After placing both items on the rows of obscure text, the kitsune handed Seiki the bottle of Alchemist’s Utility Potion with the theatrical poise of a magician’s assistant.

  “There’s no way to mess this up, is there?” Seiki asked.

  “No,” Kentaro confirmed.

  Despite not having done it before, Seiki knew how the process of equipment transformation worked. Carefully, he uncorked the bottle and emptied its clear purplish content over both pieces of gear.

  A puff of smoke burst out as the liquid soaked the items.

  You have started an equipment transformation process. Select the equipment whose appearance you would like to copy onto the other equipment.

  >Tanaka’s Black Leather Glove

  > Crimsonfire Tekko

  Seiki mentally selected the black leather glove, concentrating much more than he needed to.

  The appearance of Tanaka’s Black Leather Glove will be applied over the Crimsonfire Tekko. Tanaka’s Black Leather Glove will be destroyed in the process. Are you sure?

  “Yes,” he breathed.

  Both items started to glow, before a wisp of silver slowly rose from the black leather glove, swirled above the Crimsonfire Tekko and slowly descended on it like a layer of mist, dying the orange leather darker and darker until it was a deep shade of black.

  Seiki felt a twinge in his heart as he saw the fine copper-colored leather covered up with the plain black coating. Thankfully, it was a reversible enchantment, but for now he thought it wiser not to draw any unneeded attention to himself until he was better equipped to deal with it.

  The process ended with an unexpected silvery flash, drawing gasps from all around. A crowd had gathered around them, and as Seiki looked up from his transformed gear they quickly averted their eyes and moved back to their own tables.

  “So much for not drawing attention,” Seiki muttered, wondering why he had not thought about doing this somewhere more private.

  Ippei waved away the remaining spectators. “Show’s over, folks. Nothing else to see here but bag charms.”

  Only one item now remained in the middle of the table: a plain, black glove. Around it was black soot, plus a pile of dust where the Tanaka’s Black Leather Glove had been.

  “It looks kinda sinister, like we just sucked the soul out of Tanaka’s glove,” Mairin observed in slight disappointment as she blew away the dust. “When we transformed that kimono, the dust was pink, you know. It was kinda pretty.”

  She drew another deep breath and blew again, laughing as the black dust dispersed into wisps of smoke when she tried to blow it over Kentaro.

  Seiki re-equipped his gear, wiggling his fingers, and waited for it to adjust to a perfect fit over his left hand. The feeling of the piece ultimately matched the appearance, and Seiki had to recheck just to make sure that the item was still his prized handguard.

  Crimsonfire Tekko +14 defense. Appearance: Tanaka’s Black Leather Glove. Hand slot. Effect: this protective glove builds up energy as its wearer spends energy, which, once full, can be released to allow it to interrupt a damaging spell on the wearer or withstand any physical damage for 2 seconds. Scalable.

  At least, if he could not tell if the tekko was charged up, no one else could, and that would come in handy the next time someone tried to one-shot him. He held up his hand, and Mairin nodded after inspecting it. “Yep. To everyone else, they only see Tanaka’s Black Leather Glove [Transformed], with the base stat.”

  “All right,” Seiki said a little wistfully. “Thanks, Kentaro.”

  “No, thank you for your upcoming services,” the houshi said.

  Ippei’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Did you tell him in advance where your magic mushroom mountain is?”

  “What do you mean?” Seiki turned to look at Kentaro. The houshi had said it was somewhere to the north out the East Gate, but Seiki had not really asked the details. “Uh, where is this place again?”

  “Hokubu Mountains.”

  From the way Kentaro had said it, Seiki was starting to suspect that it would be quite an expedition. But before he could ask, he was interrupted by a very loud objection from Yamura.

  “Okay, why did you have to do that?” The ryoushi, who must have been watching the whole thing, had appeared behind the dispersing crowd. “The whole point of having scalables is to show people you have scalables.” He shook his head. “Now that thing is just a dime-a-dozen black glove.”

  Seiki noticed that Yamura had actually switched out some of his gear to deep orange to better match the Firerat Fur Armguard he was wearing, and even his long black bow strapped across his back now had a decorative orange tassel.

  “The point of having scalables is actually so that you won’t have to switch gear out when you level,” Ippei pointed out.

  Mairin bowed her head as Yamura walked toward the table. “Can I interest you in our special deal for bag charms, ryoushi-san?”

  “I’m good on charms. Seiki wanted me to come.” Yamura was still looking at Seiki’s disguised handguard. “How much gold did you spend on those ingredients?”

  “Five trips to mushroom mountain,” said Seiki, using the exact same answer as before. “And Level 5 Calligraphy for Kentaro,” he added before the houshi could.

  “Before six weeks, preferably,” said Kentaro.

  Ippei coughed. “Well, if my plan works, you’re probably not going to see us in the next six weeks.”

  “What?” Kentaro said.

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Mairin. “He’s just bluffing. We all know he can’t stay away from this sugar. Last I checked, there’s no kakigouri for sale in Muraki Fort.”

  “Okay, I have no idea what all this means,” Yamura announced as he nodded toward the exit. “Ready, Seiki?”

  Mairin turned to look at them in surprise. “Going somewhere?”

  “Uh, Ippei’s covering for me tonight,” said Seiki, both avoiding the question and explaining to Kentaro.

  The kitsune seemed disappointed. “What? Is this one of Yamura’s grinding ses
sions? If you’re doing those evil cows again, I might come.”

  Yamura grimaced. “That didn’t end well.”

  “You should know that’s exactly why I want to come,” Mairin said.

  Seiki quickly got up from the stool and handed the sales report for the night to the houshi, who passed it on to Ippei, who took it with a sigh.

  “One hour,” said the samurai to Seiki. “As we agreed.”

  Seiki nodded.

  “Evil cows?” asked Mairin hopefully.

  “Uh, no,” said Seiki. He slid Mairin’s ink pot and brush across the table back to her, while Kentaro started to rearrange the charms in the trays and re-positioned them in the middle of the table. “It’s more like… visiting an old friend,” Seiki explained, not sure what the best way to put it was.

  “Uh, that’s what we’re doing?” asked Yamura.

  “Ohhhh.” The kitsune narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Seiki, what’s this all about?”

  “It’s, uh…. okay, let’s go.” Seiki quickly ushered the confused Yamura out through the crowd before his lack of skills as a convincing liar could betray him. At the shop entrance, he turned back to the table and shouted, “We’ll be quick.”

  Mairin shook her head and faked a scowl. “Knowing you, I wouldn’t be surprised the next time we actually hear from you is in an SOS message from the Rogami stronghold, like, in two weeks.”

  “What?” Yamura whipped his head around in alarm. “Rogami?”

  “Not the Rogami,” said Seiki.

  “One hour!” shouted Ippei. “I’ve got West Defenders to haggle with later.”

  Kentaro sighed at the rapid turnover of his charm shop workforce. “Can someone let me know what’s happening please?”

  “Yeah, what’s this, old friend?” said Yamura unhappily as they cleared the front of the dessert shop.

  Seiki could hear Ippei making up some vague answers about old debts to settle, and Mairin trying to coax more information out of the samurai. But the conversation was drowned out as Mami the kakigouri seller called out cheerfully after them, “Thank you! Please come again!”

  “What old debts?” asked Yamura. “Rogami?”

  “No, not the Rogami,” Seiki reassured him as he whistled for his mount. A second later, he could spot the white snowstepper turning the corner and starting to make her way through the crowd on Market Street toward him.

  Yamura’s black horse was already there in front of the shop. “And this old friend you’re talking about, do I even know him?” Yamura mounted, before staring at Seiki in alarm. “Don’t tell me you agreed to some double duel with the Rogami? Because I’m totally not doing that!”

  Seiki shook his finger as he hopped on Fubuki. “No, this really has nothing to do with the Rogami. You came with an empty inventory, right?”

  The ryoushi stopped short. “I forgot.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But does this mean you’re planning to die?” He looked utterly horrified.

  “Not tonight,” said Seiki. “Just safety measures. I guess we can leave your bags at Central Crossing. Come on.”

  He urged Fubuki down the street through the crowd, and Yamura reluctantly followed him, muttering something about how he did not like where this was going.

  It turned out that getting to the common Central Crossing private territory was impossible. At the corner by the Pawn Shop, they ran into a parade of NPCs in elaborate yellow and black costumes, who were announcing the beginning of the Rogami Festival the next day.

  The Festival Announcer [Level 35] leading the parade had on a high hat and a fan that he waved merrily as he declared, “Games, special errands, food, music, spectacular fireworks during the Night of the Great White Dragon!”

  As usual, Shinshioka citizens had gathered on both sides of the street to watch the rows of uniformed dancers, drummers and musicians on bamboo flutes.

  Seiki screwed up his face as he steered Fubuki around a group of excited low-level players. These parades came through every six hours or so, perhaps to make sure everyone really knew about the upcoming festival, and the exclusive Shogun’s banquet all Rogami members were invited to—where they would be given a special reward box. Nearing the event, the parades were getting bigger and longer, with this one comprising more than thirty NPCs. Being right on the already-busy Market Street, the crowd was impassable.

  The announcer flamboyantly swung his ceremonial fan high and low. “Who’s the samurai?” he half-spoke, half-sung. “The first to prove his prowess?”

  Behind him, dancing girls in matching Rogami colors chorused, “The great Zengoro-sama! The great Zengoro-sama!”

  Yamura groaned in disgust. “Man, they really went overboard when they scripted NPCs to do this.”

  “No wonder everyone wants to attack their rice village now,” said Seiki, asking himself if this effect was actually intended.

  The announcer continued as he led his small parade through the crowd, stepping in time with the drum beats. “Of what clan is he? This great Zengoro-sama?”

  Before the dancers could respond, Seiki steered Fubuki in the opposite direction. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. This way.”

  A detour through less-packed roads would probably end up being faster, and would save them from having to listen to NPCs sing praise to the Rogami Clan. As soon as the crowd thinned enough that they would not trample over people, they burst into a gallop down the street, passing several more groups of players rushing to catch a glimpse of the parade.

  “Where are we going?” asked Yamura.

  “First, Mani Shrine,” said Seiki. “Then East City.”

  Away from the parade and music, the city was much quieter. And after two turns, Seiki pulled Fubuki to a stop in front of Mani Shrine’s green-roofed gates and leapt off.

  “Give me your bags,” he said to Yamura, before adding when the ryoushi hesitated, “Mani Shrine’s a sanctuary. No PVP or Pickpocketing. I’m just going to leave them on Master Tsujihara’s altar.”

  “And you still claim you’re not planning to die?” Yamura said suspiciously as he slowly handed over his two 12-slot leather pouches. Seiki reassured him that he would not regret it.

  “And what’s with the secret?” muttered the ryoushi.

  Without enlightening Yamura, Seiki ran into the sanctuary ground, past all the smaller shrines that commemorated Shinshioka’s various troops. He entered into the incense-filled Hall of Fallen Heroes, where only a single old NPC lady was present to light an incense stick for her dead husband. Placing Yamura’s two bags in the old swordsman’s tiny antechamber, Seiki muttered an amused apology to Master Tsujihara’s spirit for using his altar as a bag drop counter.

  Seeing the empty earthen pot, he decided to spend a few more seconds lighting an incense stick for the old man for the Peace of Mind buff.

  “A luck buff is what I need right now, Master Tsujihara,” he joked.

  Still, the familiar warmth and the 1% extra health was strangely comforting, and did manage to make him feel lucky. Seiki quickly re-emerged and jumped back onto Fubuki. “Next stop: East City,” he said to Yamura as he patted the faithful snowstepper on her neck. “Let’s go.”

  Yamura had on a mysterious smile as he spurred his horse after Seiki. “Oh, I know now what you’re up to.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  The ryoushi grinned. “Yoshiwara. It has to be Yoshiwara, right?”

  Seiki turned to look at his friend at the unfamiliar term. “What?”

  “The Underground Yoshiwara in the black market? Oh, come on. The red light district? With RP courtesans? That’s the only thing worthwhile in East City, and that’s why you didn’t want to tell Mairin. Right? So the place really exists?”

  Taking Seiki’s speechless surprise for confirmation, Yamura sped his horse up until it was side-by-side with Fubuki. “You dog! Where did you even get an invitation for that? Ichikeya connection? I heard you have to know people, and to buy one it costs you a crap load of Favors.
”

  Seiki wondered why of all the rumors, this was the first time he had heard of this one. “Well, don’t get your hopes up,” he said, hiding a smile.

  “Oh, I know you can’t do anything too wild, but I’ve heard they pour you sake and do their dance and sit on your lap, and stuff. What? Why are you laughing?”

  Seiki glanced around as he tried to recall the route. “I’m afraid you’re gonna be really disappointed.”

  Shinshioka always managed to seem bigger than it actually was. Three more turns took them deep within rows of rickety buildings in the heart of East City, which remained perhaps the only part of Shinshioka untouched by festive colors—as if even NPCs were afraid to come here.

  Deciding they had come far enough, Seiki halted and dismounted, before letting Fubuki trot silently off into the night. Once they had stopped riding, the sudden absence of hooves on paved ground added another layer of desolated silence to the atmosphere. Most of the street lamps were out in the dark alley they stood in, and the buildings flanking both sides were still and quiet. Patrols were sparse around these parts. Somewhere further down the alley, a door mysteriously creaked and slammed shut, the cause of which could very well be supernatural.

  Yamura looked around in disappointment when he saw nothing of the famed red light district in sight. “We’re… looking for the entrance?” he said hopefully.

  “Now we just wait,” said Seiki.

  The maze-like winding alleys of East City always gave Seiki the uncanny feeling of being watched from behind doors, and tonight he was hoping that was the case.

  The ryoushi got off his horse and peeked around nervously. “Wait for what?”

  “I need to talk to someone,” said Seiki, deciding to give his friend a hint.

  Yamura frowned. “Who? You know, we shouldn’t be lingering here too long unless we’re looking to get robbed.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly why we’re here,” Seiki said.

  “What? To get robbed?” Yamura knitted his brow. “Are we after, like, a thief rare or something? I’ve heard there’s this old thief guy who sometimes drops Pickpocketing scrolls that ups your level.”