by Kit Falbo
The ax and shield jerk has finally gotten frustrated at me using my greater dexterity to block his path and accepts my duel request. The prompt pops up, Cone-Hun has accepted your duel. I roll out of the way in the nick of time as the ax, finally able to strike me, swings by. I free my sword Whiplash from by back making it appear in my hand, my Quick Strike ability allowing me both to equip and strike my opponent in a flash. It only grazes him, but that is all I need to deliver Mizzie’s latest poison. I’d made sure to fix all my weapons up on the way back into town after the mistake of not having them prepared at the tower.
The poison icon flashes above Cone-Hun’s head with a sixty-second timer. This poison doesn’t cause any stat loss or damage which, is why it stays applied so long. Now the punk has to deal with double vision. He takes a swing and a miss, my swing doesn’t as he blocks the double vision of the blade instead of the real one. As the blade cuts into his leg, I activate the paralysis charged ability from the blade, freezing him for one full second so I can poke three holes into him. Being a tough bugger, he only loses half his life.
When he does manage to recover and lands a hit on me, me not being a tough bugger, I find that I lose a little less than half my life, at the same time finding myself pushed across the room from the blow. There is a gleam in his eyes as he approaches me. My two best actions, which I used earlier in the day were on cooldown. Still, most of my abilities are not made for straight up fighting. That gleam fades as his body freezes before dissolving into sand and smoke as the bodies of Touched do when the player dies.
The tip of Joyce’s sword occupies the space where the back of Cone-hun’s skull had been. She is panting, her hair is a little burnt, and a small cut on her arm leaves a streak of red on her shirt. No loot drops for me because I hadn’t been the one who killed him.
I pull myself up off the ground and dust myself off. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good fight.” She looks around at the chaos. “Do you think maybe you can cover the damages though? The stipend I’m given isn’t that much.”
I nod and pay the owner. “Let’s get out of here.” I follow her noticing not just her nice rear end, but also the slight limp to her gait, which wasn’t there before the fight. I vow to get the last two masks and spend the gold to get her some real gear at the auction house to give her. I almost wish I had made friends with Chess so I could ask him to design something special.
Chapter Twenty-Three - Chess
Alerin King, retired councilor, head of the Order of Shadows, and the man not to disappoint, shows up personally on the final day of the quest. I stop mid work on a blade I am hammering and put it down. “Is something wrong?”
“Come with me. We need to get your funds. “
I drop all my work and flip a silver coin towards Mort, shooing him off. “We’ll need to stop at the bank.”
LJ Silver’s bank serves as the default bank for players; there are other ones you could hunt for or unlock with quests. Overall though, there isn’t much difference between them other than bragging rights and LJS banking has more locations. The real money of course, minus the transaction fee, gets deposited into my real bank. LJS is all in-game currency, and automatic payments for the tithe if you want that to cover the subscription and sometimes guild fees.
I leave my standard six-month tithe fee cushion and a chunk for resources since with Jasper has been busy, I now have to purchase most of my own crafting materials. Still, I’m able to pull out thirty-eight hundred gold from this week’s improved production and auction sales. Oddly enough a quarter of the gold has come from Noxtimus buying more items with gold. He’s purchased boots that grant a move speed boost and have a short teleportation ability and a decent sword that has more crowd control abilities. Alerin is looking at me impatiently, so I close the transaction history window and grab the bag of gold.
I hand it to him. He takes it and my arm. “You’re coming with me. The election is today.”
“I thought it was tomorrow.”
“I did too, but it’s not a fixed day. Transparency is not a hallmark of our election process. We’re more about privacy, individual power, rights, freedom from the mobs and masses. It’s a lot more straightforward once you’re elected. Mostly. I got my letter this morning; You’re going to be my guest.”
We push our way to King’s part of the city and from there enter a small shop. King flashes a letter with a seal to the owner who takes us into the back and opens a cellar door. The stairs that lead down are dimly lit by candles on the wall. At the bottom, two guards with duelist badges and hoods masking their faces stand guard, their swords drawn. “Hello,” I say, and they just continue to stand there stoically.
Alerin presents his letter. “This is my guest Chess. You might say he’s related to one of the candidates, being their Touched.”
The guards, still silent, pull out two necklaces and give one to each of us. Alerin puts his on, and his face becomes a blur. His clothing appears now as a plain brown robe. I put mine on and assume it does the same thing, though my robe looks a shade lighter. I guess for non-voting guests. Alerin tugs at my hand. “Come on. We only have an hour or two to schmooze before the vote.” His voice, at least, isn’t disguised, so I still have one way to recognize him.
It is only a short walk before we enter a giant gilded ballroom. Hundreds of blurry-faced robe-enshrouded people mill about. Several tables are set with food and drink. I hear the faint strings of a band playing. Other personages line our entrance, their palms outstretched, facing up. Alerin takes out stacks of gold coins and drops them into each hand, firmly saying “Jasper,” as the coins clink into their palms.
“Are you buying votes?” I whisper to him.
“Oh, I’ve already bought the votes I know can be reliably bought. These folks are just opportunists and have probably already decided who they want. Still, a small chance of influencing someone is better than none. Leaving them empty-handed would also be an insult.”
The next group of people is less obvious in that they want to socialize before presenting their palms for handouts. A woman, I can tell by her voice lets out a long sigh and puts a tart into the blur of her face then removes it with a bite taken out. “I don’t know if I can stand having a Touched creature enter politics for us. I hear they’re killing townsfolk in the reaches and there is nothing anyone can do to stop them.”
“A few bad ones doesn’t mean they are all bad.” I pipe up.
She finishes her tart. “I wish that was the case, but even the good ones can get bored and do something crazy. Jasper seems alright for a companion. I still can’t believe he refused to hire assassins to target his opponents.”
A deep voiced man chortles next to her at that. “It’s positively devious, as long as his opponents are alive, they’ll split the vote of those unwilling to pick the companion and tangentially their Touched. It also appeals to those softies who don’t think politics should be bloody. It’s brilliant.”
The woman tips her head acknowledging this. “They are also all so focused on sending killers after him that they don’t realize their mistakes. Jasper seems positively nice compared to Eo and Alura. Tyrone well, let’s just admit he’s never had a shot.”
King steps up here. “Jasper certainly is the best of the bunch, and despite his condition, he has my vote and support.” With the key word of support, there is a clinking of gold into both voters’ hands.
My heart beats a little quicker after the conversation. Killers after Jasper. If he dies, I can’t be Kingmaker. It’s a selfish thought. Weirdly, I realize I kind of like Jasper, It’s hard admitting that I like a game character. I’ve just been too busy for stuff other than work recently; he’s always been there for me. I tap Alerin’s shoulder after we leave the group. “Killers? Is Jasper safe? I wasn’t told anything about this.”
“Didn’t want to scare you away. I certainly didn’t say this would be a safe goal. No risk, no reward. Don’t worr
y. He has the best bodyguards your money can buy. I even put a hold with the assassins’ guild using some of the funds, so his opponents are forced to buy non-guild trash and mercenaries or break their bank.”
I’m not exactly relieved, but the vote is soon, and I haven’t received any notifications that my companion has died. I put my hand in my pouch to look at the weapon I had brought with me. It isn’t as good as the epic pieces I had made for the heads of the orders, but if I need too, I will use it. Reaching master smith status is something I’m looking forward to.
We work the room, and by we, I mostly mean Alerin King. If someone is ranting too much about Jasper being a companion or the evils of the Touched he inserts himself and changes the conversation or shuts it down. Gold continues to exchange hands, and we dance from group to group. I almost wonder why I am here. The few words I manage to get in can’t mean much. I guess it is nice to be here to see the results of my spending.
A gong rings, interrupting and bringing an end to all conversations. It continues for several beats until its only accompaniment is the silence between the rings. An announcer somewhere calls out the first name. “Eo Trubard.” An elder man, probably in his late thirties with hay blond hair and a severely dour face enters. Four guards march next to him wearing faux officer’s uniforms, obviously stylized to look like them, but not actually be them. The lockstep march at which they moved with him just made him seem even more unapproachable.
Once he has made his way to a slightly raised platform in the middle of the room, the announcer calls the next name. “Alura Fairbloom.” She is beautiful, in a wide flowing gown. She smiles and curtsies at almost every person she passes. But when she does it for me, I can see that for all her shows of warmth, her eyes look cold. Her guards, all six of them are at least as pretty as her, prettier in some cases. Each in a suit accented with a color of the rainbow and carrying swords with golden sparkling sheaths and handles. Despite their number, only the two women in the group seem serious about their job, their eyes constantly darting around for things that might be threats.
“Companion Jasper Fells.” I hadn’t seen him for a while, both of us being busy, but I still wasn’t expecting him to be like this when he enters. He is sweating, panting, a slight gash still bleeding on his temple. He is geared out in my rejects, the items I had passed onto him to deal with because after I had completed them, I didn’t think would sell to players. His bodyguards wear similar pieces of leftovers. They eye everyone as though they might be a threat and the formless masses take a step back to give them and their dangerous looks some space. Each of the guards is bleeding and has some form of injury. Seven obviously dangerous, tired and bleeding people make their way up the platform. There are some murmurs from the crowd, but I can’t tell if they are positive or negative.
Alerin King whispers into my ear. “See. Perfectly healthy, maybe only a little worse for wear.”
I respond with a low grumbling. If either had asked for help or informed me, I could have made sure they were all properly outfitted. I hope the gold I made for this is more important.
“Tyrone King,” the announcer calls out.
I look over to Alerin, not that he can see the look I am giving him. “A Nephew,” he says in a voice that is laced with some level of unhappiness.
Tyrone looks like Alerin except younger. He has thick black hair instead of the snowy white, but he has the same general face and large imposing form. Instead of having Alerin’s smile lines and clever eyes, his face is set in a scowl and eyes brim with anger. His clothes are black. His guards, looking like they were plucked out a stereotypical veteran mercenary company, are also dressed in black, and all move like they own the place. You can tell from how the crowd shifts that they don’t like him. As much as they have doubts about Jasper being a companion, they have none about Tyrone’s worthiness.
Once each group is settled on the platform in the center of the room, the announcer’s voice echoes again. Since I don’t see anyone it has to be some kind of projection magic. “In a brief moment, each candidate will make their case to the voters.”
Eo and Alura’s speeches both stress that they are longtime members of the community, not newcomers and not beholden to anyone. Direct jabs at Jasper, but other than that there isn’t anything special or noteworthy and both are on the verge of being boring. I make my way to the front, curious about what Jasper will say.
Jasper had used his time well, straightening his clothes and cleaning the blood off his minor wounds. He still looks like he has been in a fight, but no longer like he’s immediately out of one. He takes a deep breath and begins to speak.
“They are right. I am a newcomer here. I’m a companion, magically sworn to my Touched. He’s not so bad though. He spends all day working, like he lives here instead of off fighting, killing, running amok. I barely see him, and he’s only given me one task since he first entered this world, Help people.
“I thought his task was ridiculous, vague and just plain odd. Other companions are out mining, learning to heal, selling their Touched finds. Even carrying their burdens. I was shocked when he then told me he wanted me to run for this council seat, a path he set before me well before I knew I was traveling on it. I have moved down that path with the goal of helping people. That is what I plan to continue to do if elected. I may be new, but I’ve grown to know this community. I helped magister Jonas repaint his house. Babysat Tia’s twins. Spent most of my evenings reading Captain Swans Adventures to Antimony. I’ve fought for this community, and I bleed to be here today.”
It is hard not to be moved by someone speaking passionately while bleeding for their cause. With the robes and the face concealers, it is impossible to read the room though. Is the speech and my gold enough?
Tyrone King steps forward looking down at the voters with a level of disdain on his face that is inappropriate for this contest. His glare is so uncomfortable I put my hand in my bag just to have easy access to my sword.
“There is only one choice!” A dozen more grizzled warriors shimmer into existence on the stage, and one of Tyrone’s bodyguards tackles Jasper’s limping protector as another, in a coordinated move, lashes out to strike my companion.
Somehow, I have gotten my sword out and manage to activate an interrupt ability charged onto the blade. An arch of light blocks that strike. It isn’t a lot of time, but just enough to allow the rest of Jasper’s guards to get into the fight.
I want to do more. A hooded duelist appears next to me, his hand on my wrist and blade drawn. “You can’t attack them. It’s against the rules,” he tells me in a low voice. He grips my wrist with enough strength that it is clear I can’t fight him.
“Damn it, Tyrone!” Alerin King yells. “This just isn’t done!”
Tyrone’s eyes stare at us. He must have recognized the voice. “But it’s not against the rules, Uncle. If all the other candidates are dead, the only votes that count are the ones for me. Renna’s bloody rise might be a footnote in the secret histories; mine will be a chapter.”
The fight progresses too damn fast for my liking. Eo’s guards are more than useless, having obviously spent more time practicing marching than fighting. One guard is dead, and Eo is bleeding profusely from a gash in his side. Alura is doing slightly better, she has pulled a golden wand from somewhere under her dress and is using blasts of dark necrotic magic to help her bodyguards. Sadly, half her bodyguards don’t seem to know how to use the swords they are carrying, and it is only a matter of time before Tyrone’s men get through their clumsy waving.
After having recovered from the initial surprise, Jasper and his guards are handling a greater number of opponents well, but once the others are able to finish off Eo and Alura, they won’t have a hope against them all. The mercenaries know it too. With their gamble having failed, they just focus on making sure none of Jasper’s more skilled bodyguards kill any of them until the rest of their crew finish off the other candidates.
It is frustrating watching. The dueli
st, having removed his hand from me, is keeping an eye on me with his bared blade near his side. I don’t think I can even make an attack, not that it would matter. I’m not even level fifteen and most of my spells are crafting or support. I have no ace up my sleeve to kill Tyrone and end this.
Eo is on his knees, and I watch as a fighter with a vicious smile on his face moves forward to end him. I cast Haste on Eo, expecting a sword in my gut and a revival countdown. The speed boost helps Eo rolls out of the way. The duelist beside me grips his sword tighter but does nothing. I can feel the gears in my mind turn fast before it clicks. I didn’t attack, I supported.
I start casting spells to help the guards and candidates. Alerin King nudges me a little, “What are you doing?”
“I’m supporting the candidates.” There must be other casters here. “Support the candidates!” I yell to the crowd.
Alerin sees what I’m doing and takes up the cry as well and spells start to trickle in. Still, two of Alura’s guards don’t make it as a wild swing leaves them open for savage strikes. The call is echoed a few times in the chamber. Suddenly the announcer’s voice booms through the hall. “Support your candidates!”
The trickle of spells suddenly becomes a flood. I see boosts, mirror images, rays of healing. Tyrone’s men are not the ones getting any of them. Tyrone stamps his foot, “Cheating! Cheating! Cheating! You are all cheaters! How dare you steal what is mine!” I keep casting and watch as the newly invigorated defenders start to tip the scales. Tyrone turns his eyes to my spot. “This is all your fault!” he yells. He draws a sword and dives off the stage with a spearing drive.
I step to the side to dodge, but it is not me he’s going for. Alerin King gracefully moves out of the way. Before Tyrone can move to attack again, two Duelists are there restraining Tyrone, one from behind and another grabbing his wrists. “This is against the rules.” They admonish him. Tyrone’s response is to growl, a little bit of spit frothing at the edge of his mouth.