by Ramy Vance
As soon as that was done, the rest of the MERCs gathered around the freshly-dug graves, saying nothing, only offering silent prayers.
José climbed on top of a large, disturbed tree trunk. In a solemn voice, the ancient MERC spoke. “Nights like these are the sort where we must remember first and foremost what we are here for. We are brothers and sisters. We are a family. We are here to fight the Dark One. When one of us bleeds, we all bleed. When one of us falls, we all mourn. The MERCs who sacrificed their lives tonight to defend us are heroes. They are the unsung heroes of this war. I did not know any of them personally. I do not have to have known any of them personally. I know that they were MERCs, just like the rest of you. We are the living, and we honor the dead.”
“We are the living, and we honor the dead,” the rest of the MERCs echoed back.
José nodded at Diana, who waved her hands, which were glowing bright red. Twenty-two little flames floated from her fingertips and over to the graves…one for each mound of fresh earth.
Once their respects were paid, the MERCs went back to the Red Lion and slowly started to piece the place back together. The work was mostly done by the mages who used magic to repair the chairs and tables and to clean off the walls.
After only half an hour, the Red Lion was restored to its former glory.
Wendy started pouring tankards of booze. “A well-fought battle deserves a stiff drink. It’s on the house tonight, boys! Drink to the memory of the fallen.”
Sandy, Stew, and Suzuki were sitting at their own table. “I’ll go get the first round,” Sandy offered as she stood up.
Stew shook his head, still not sure what to make of what just happened. “Attacking us at our own base. That’s gutsy.”
“No,” Suzuki disagreed. “That’s stupid. From a tactical point of view, it’s insane. I can’t even begin to name how many battles have been lost because of that strategy. It would take all night. Historically, that’s as bad as Germany trying to invade Russia during winter.”
Stew started at Suzuki with a blank look.
“It’s just such an obviously bad idea,” Suzuki added.
“Sure, whatever. I still don’t get your point.”
Sandy returned with the drinks, placing them on the table.
Stew sloshed his mead in Suzuki’s direction, some of the head tipping out and over the side. “Fearless leader here thinks that it’s weird that the orcs attacked here.”
“Not weird. Stupid,” Suzuki corrected. “Think about it. There’s a lot of fucking MERCs here. And most of them are veterans. That was a suicide mission if I’ve ever seen one. You’d think the Dark One’s forces would be better managed given everything I’ve heard about how terrible he is. But…I don’t know…something doesn’t add up about tonight.”
Sandy shrugged. “Maybe. But then again, maybe the orcs were part of some cell group or something.”
Suzuki looked at the mage curiously. “What do you mean?”
“You know, a cell group. Like when a force has a loose hierarchy. You just kind of let them do what they want to do, but they have to do it under your name.”
Stew burst out laughing and raised his tankard for a cheer. “Didn’t know you were one for military history, babe.”
“I’m not. It’s just been in the news a lot, and my dad’s really into politics. Just picked it up, I guess.”
“Maybe they’re getting desperate,” Suzuki offered. “You know, the war isn’t really going their way, so they’re starting to make stupid mistakes.”
Sandy shrugged and drank. “Who knows? Honestly, who really knows what’s going on around here.”
“I don’t, and I doubt I ever will,” Suzuki muttered. “Listen, guys—I think I need to be alone. ” And without another word, Suzuki left the Mundanes and went upstairs.
The room was a mess. Stew had made short work of it stumbling around with his “extra limb,” and their room was utter chaos.
All this damage from Stew. Imagine what would have happened if an orc did make it up here, he thought as he righted some of the furniture and searched for his pillow and blanket. He considered tidying up the rest of the room. For Stew and Sandy.
But probably more for himself. It was something to do
And something to do was better than nothing, so that’s exactly what he did. Something. He tidied the room.
As he did, Suzuki felt Fred moving around in his mind. What’s up, Fred?
You were right to question the circumstances of the attack, human. But you were wrong to blindly dismiss it as stupidity on their part.
Suzuki sighed. He just wasn’t in the mood for the imp. What do you mean? And speak plainly or go find some corner in my mind to jerk-off in. I’m not interested in another condescending chit-chat.
Very well, let me speak plainly. The orcs have never attacked the Shire before. This is partly because of what you so rightly pointed out—the Shire is the MERCs home base. But it is also because the Shire is widely regarded as a safe zone. Neutral territory.
Fred projected places into Suzuki’s mind that he had not known existed. Once the images were in place, Fred hissed, There have always been safe zones throughout the realms.
What good is a safe zone in the middle of a war? Suzuki asked.
Traditions and manners. Even the orcs were not ready to descend into complete savagery. Still, there are two things that trouble me. Firstly that the attack happened at all. The scale was extremely small. I have seen the orc hordes. They stretch for valleys upon valleys. If this realm’s orc population wanted to destroy the Red Lion, they would have.
Suzuki took this in before asking, And what is the second thing?
That such an attack could not be random. This is not some rogue orc troop as your compatriots suggested. Orcs are stupid, but they are not that stupid. No, they were asked to attack this place. And I can only it assume it was by him. By the Dark One.
Why would the Dark One want to attack here? To what end? We’re just a bunch of MERCs.
MERCs who constantly vex him.
So what? He wanted to irritate us back. Seriously what did the Dark One gain by attacking us here and in the way he did.
Fred’s silence was his answer. The imp did not know.
Suzuki shook his head. OK, let’s assume that you’re right and the Dark One did it for some reason so fucked up that not even you can hazard a guess. What happened then? He went to the closest orc troop and, what? Asked them to sacrifice themselves on some suicide mission, because…what? He asked nicely. I seriously doubt that.
Yes, I am telling you exactly that. You don’t understand, do you, human?
Oh, please, then…enlighten me.
For eons, the children of dust—dwarves, elves, gnomes, and humans—hunted my kind, Fred hissed. You saw us as evil monsters to be wiped from the face of Middang3ard and all the other realms that surround it.
Fred conjured images of hunting parties taking down trolls, giants, orcs, goblins…and imps. We were on the verge of being destroyed until someone came to us. The Dark One. No one questioned where he…or it…had come from. We knew nothing about him. We still know nothing about him. All that is known is that he arrived without ceremony or magic. He simply came into our realms, and he spoke a truth that the beasts of the nine realms could rally around.
And what was that? Suzuki asked.
Power. Power was something all the races could understand.
That still doesn’t explain why a troop of orcs would sacrifice themselves for no good reason. There’s more going on here. Mind-control or some spell… Suzuki mused.
Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not. Fred paused as he considered his words. Do you know what orcs used to be? Do you know the filth and the slavery they were forced into? The elves are not as benevolent as you would assume. They enslaved the orcs. Until, that is, the Dark One gave them the means to escape their bonds. He promised them freedom, and he delivered. Such a service buys one a hell of a lot of loyalty.
S
uzuki was dumbfounded. The whole time that he had been trying to understand why the MERCs and the military were waging war against the Dark One, it had never occurred to him to question what the Dark One was fighting for.
And why would he? Evil was evil, and the only thing any of them had been told about the Dark One was that he was one evil son-of-a-bitch.
If Fred was right and the races deemed monstrous were on the verge of extinction…then it was clear the Dark One wasn’t the only evil force in the nine realms.
Fred must have sensed his thoughts…or read them outright, Suzuki still wasn’t sure what kind of access Fred had to his mind. Either way the imp sighed before sending, No, dear human…the Dark One is evil. Just because he sought to help the dark races gain their freedom does not mean he is not using them for his own purposes. Make no mistake, the Dark One is pure evil. Even when he does good, he does so to further his own evil intent. Hence why I fight with the Children of Dust and other lesser creatures. Hence why Myrddin created the game the way he did.
Suzuki snapped his fingers twice. And what about the game? If all this shit is happening, why not just pull back the veil and get us here in a more direct way?
He could feel Fred shaking his head. Myrddin believed that the humans needed to be convinced to fight. That humans, selfish as they are, would not leave their realm to fight against an evil that lived on another plane of existence, Fred explained. Hence why he began to seed your realm with information through different formats. At first, it was legends. They came to your realm and stitched themselves into the tales that your people have been telling for thousands of years. Gilgamesh. Zeus. King Arthur. All of those stories were planted within your culture with an exact purpose: to prepare your kind. An attempt to ready you humans for the trials that were to come.
Fred conjured up images of all the Middang3ard modules and games that had been in circulation. Suzuki knew most of them. Tabletop games, board games, books, movies, video games, and finally the VR version that came out when Suzuki was a kid.
As your people began to change, Fred continued, to accept these legends, Myrddin sought to deepen your understanding of this realm through fantasy fiction—not that it was fiction at all. The books published under the guise of fiction have more truth in them than any myth. And Myrddin didn’t stop there. Eventually, the books became games. And those games grew in complexity until they took on their final, virtual format.
Images of the VR suits and helmet that Suzuki knew so well popped into his mind. But the VR suits weren’t training like Myrddin explained. No VR game could prepare you for the real thing. They were merely a means to deepen your acceptance of Middang3ard, and to trick eager recruits such as yourself with lies of painless adventure and endless riches.
Fred sighed. To be honest, most of us didn’t think that he was going to be able to pull any of this off. But look at you: proof that he was on to something. Thousands of humans have come here for the glory of Middang3ard. That in itself is a victory.
Suzuki sat there, trying to take in everything that Fred had said. It was a lot. All of the games, all of the books that he had spent his childhood with, all of that was nothing more than a recruitment tool.
The best memories of his life were nothing more than someone assuming that he knew enough about what it was that he thought was going to happen to indoctrinate him. It was almost too much to understand, almost too much to cope with.
Yet he knew it was true.
Somehow, he knew that all of the time he had spent reading through myths, trying to understand the technicalities of mythical races, all of what his parents had described as nonsense was hardly a waste of his wits. Here he was in Middang3ard right now. There was no way that any of that was a waste.
There are not many humans from your generation who understand the complexities of these realms,” Fred hissed. “Despite what else I’d like to say about you and your friends, you seem to understand. Since you’ve arrived in Middang3ard, you seem to have an understanding of this place, of these people, that many others do not.
What are you trying to say? Suzuki asked.
You understand the customs and rules of Middang3ard far better than you know.
Thank you. I think, Suzuki said as he made his bed. There was something cathartic about pulling the sheets back and placing them on properly. It reminded him of his childhood, a childhood that seemed so very long, long ago.
You know, I’m sure there is a good reason why they attacked, suicide mission or not. It’s a good thing there are some very smart MERCs mulling this over right now.
Smart MERCs?
José, Milos, Diana…they know the score. They’ll figure this out sooner or later.
Perhaps, but— but before Fred could finish his thought, a notification popped up on Suzuki’s HUD.
It said, Classified. Urgent.
Suzuki stared at the message. A cold feeling came over his body. Whatever was in that message could not be good.
A chill went down Suzuki’s back as he opened the message, and the first thing he saw was the military emblem blazing at the top.
He scrolled down, and what he read made his heart stop cold.
We regret to inform you, the message said, of the passing of Beth Lovett. She was killed in combat during a raid on her camp. Robert “Suzuki” Fletcher, Sandy Poples, and Stew Harris are listed as her next of kin and, subsequently, you will inherit her personal items. Within two business days, you will receive these items via inter-realm mail. There was a selection of weapons, one which was specifically left for you. The rest can easily be divided up among you three. I am sorry for your loss. Stay strong, we must be ever vigilant against the Dark One.
Suzuki closed the message.
He did not have any thoughts. He just sat there, staring at the floor of the room.
There must have been some kind of mistake. People make these mistakes all the time.
Only a few months before they left, Suzuki had seen a documentary about a man who had been declared dead in the Vietnam war, only to show up at his family’s doorstep thirty years later.
The military constantly made mistakes. He knew that for a fact.
This was just a mistake.
There was no way that Beth was actually dead.
That’s not the way that this kind of thing worked. The party was going to get back together. That’s what they’d been saying since she left.
The party was going to get back together.
He could hear frantic steps coming up the Red Lion’s stairs. The door to Suzuki’s room flung open. Stew and Sandy were standing in the doorway.
Suzuki shook his head. “It’s not true. It’s not true.”
Sandy was shaking and crying. She covered her eyes and walked into the room, Stew trailing close behind her, his eyes sunken and his face waxen. They sat on Suzuki’s bed.
Suzuki couldn’t understand why Sandy was crying. It didn’t make any sense.
Beth was okay. She had to be.
Another message pinged on Suzuki’s HUD. He opened it and saw Beth’s face staring at him.
“Hey, Suzuki, it’s me. If you’re getting this, then it means I’m nixed. Dead. The game’s over for me. Such a weird thing to have to write about, you know? To be honest, I hope you never get this message because, well, I don’t want to be dead. Also, I would be surprised if I did die doing the kind of gruntwork they got us doing. I mean, right now they’re having us sit around patrolling the fringes of some island in case the village of Red Orcs decides to attack.”
Beth sighed as an unescaped tear welled in her eye. “Still, you never know, so I might as well get to it. Just go right out and say it. I love everything we’ve ever had. It’s weird to say. Cause we only met once. Like really met. But that’s whatever. We’ve had a whole thing outside of just playing games. And it’s meant a lot to me. It’s funny a game could have brought me to meet one of my favorite people ever. More than just a favorite. I don’t know anyone like you, Suzuki. Even if I
lived a hundred years, I don’t think I ever would. So thanks. I’ll miss you. Keep those douche nozzles in check. We’ll always be a party. No matter what. Remember what Stew always says—never split the party.
“And when you do, get back together as soon as you can. Cross that bridge, slay that monster—do whatever you can to get the party back together. Seems some monsters can’t be slain, some bridges can’t be crossed. Sorry to let you guys down like this.”
Beth leaned forward. Her eyes were stern as she looked long and hard into the camera.
“But know this: even though I’m gone, we will always be a party. Now and forever.” Beth leaned forward, fumbling for the camera button. “Now I just have to figure out a way to come back as a Force Ghost and haunt you guys.” She chuckled before turning off the camera.
Sandy was sobbing now. Stew sat beside her, staring at his feet. He was fighting back tears and was barely winning. With one hand, he stroked Sandy’s. The other gripped his short sword, which was resting on his knee.
“Didn’t think it’d be her,” Stew said. “Didn’t think it’d be any of us. But definitely not her.”
Suzuki threw his hands up and grabbed his hair. He took a deep breath and sat down. “It can’t be true,” he finally let out. “Beth was the best of us. There’s no way…”
Stew flipped his sword over and picked at a couple of its scratches. “Suzuki. She’s gone. Face it.”
“No! She’s not dead! She can’t be. Something else is up. We just have to figure it out.”
Suzuki knew what the five stages of grief were. He knew what denial was. This wasn’t denial. The sinking feeling in his stomach wasn’t about Beth dying. It was something bigger. Something more confusing.
Something that he was going to figure out.
Suzuki played her message over and over, looking for something, anything that would prove the feeling he had that she was alive to be right.
And as he did, a second message pinged. He opened it and saw Beth’s face staring back at him. “Hey, Suzuki,” she said.