Citadel of Smoke: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 4)

by Carrie Summers

  Or was it because Devon had suggested, a few weeks ago, that Wyoming and Utah weren’t too far away? She’d mentioned meeting up sometime. If the woman asked again, what would Hailey say? No, obviously. But how could she manage the refusal without damaging the relationship?

  Of course, she could always come clean. They all had secrets, apparently. Like Owen being the son of the governor of Georgia... But hiding something like that seemed different than concealing a disease that confined her to a clean room. It wasn’t that Hailey was embarrassed by her condition or that she worried they’d like her less. The real problem was that, if they knew how sick she was, her guildmates would treat her more carefully.

  Plus, it would bum her friends out.

  Better to stay the strong and intrepid character they knew in-game. She closed the message from Devon, deciding to respond when she saw her back in Stonehaven.

  The other messages were from the leader of the griefer guild and his lackeys.

  As usual.

  Of course, she’d tried blocking them. Both the messenger app and the livestream service—third-party services integrated with the implants and Relic Online—provided anti-harassment support. But having made cruelty their mission, the guild had plenty of ways around the protections. They made new handles. Wormed in through exploits in the services. Masked their internet addresses and messaged her from public-access Wi-Fi.

  It had been going on for weeks, starting shortly after the guild’s defeat at the hands of Stonehaven’s NPCs and the player population who’d set up camp nearby. Within the hour, many of the players who’d been so intent on flattening Devon’s settlement had joined Hailey’s livestream channel. It was as if their failure at Stonehaven left them even angrier and needing a fresh target. The insults and chat in her channel had gotten so toxic that she’d needed to turn off comments—banning individual users and IPs hadn’t been enough. For years, Hailey had felt a strong community with her livestream followers. Now it was as if the community had retreated into their homes while demons rampaged over the communal village. Hailey stood alone at the center of the deserted town, fielding the brunt of the attacks and private messages that she deleted without reading, but not before a preview of the text showed in her messenger app. Their threats and insults showed the worst of humanity.

  Of course, she knew that not all the guildmembers were like that, even if they’d gone along with the plan to attack Stonehaven. Some probably had nowhere else to turn, so had been swept up with the malicious haters. But still, sometimes it felt like all hundred-plus members of the raid had made it their mission to ruin her life.

  As long as there was nothing to connect her virtual presence to her physical self, she could handle it. They would get bored and move on eventually. Until then, she would keep her chin up and soldier on. She deleted the messages one after the other and dug into her bowl of glop.

  The sooner she finished, the sooner she could get back to Relic Online.

  Chapter Twelve

  CYNTHIA GLANCED OVER her shoulder as she slipped into Owen’s hospital room. Inside, machines beeped and hissed as they monitored Owen’s vitals and dispensed oxygen into the tube running under his nose. She stopped at the foot of his bed and laid a hand on his quilt-covered shin. He looked so peaceful, but according to Emerson, his inner world was anything but.

  Assuming E-Squared could rescue him from his subconscious demons, what would her boyfriend be like afterward? She couldn’t imagine he’d come out of the situation without trauma. Would he keep the memories of the weeks he’d been possessed? Or possibly worse, would he have them without being consciously aware of it, never knowing why strange impulses surfaced?

  She closed her eyes as tears started to well but managed to stop the flood before it spilled over. It didn’t matter that no one was around to see her emotions. No matter how she felt inside, she couldn’t be outwardly weak. That’s what her detractors wanted. They were ready to pounce the moment she acted like a victim.

  She had come so far, bootstrapping a successful life from mere scraps, yet for whatever reason—envy, insecurity, the dying throes of racism—many people seemed eager to knock her back down. She’d vowed long ago to deny them the pleasure.

  Cynthia squeezed Owen’s leg lightly, then slipped to the table along the wall where Emerson had left his wireless monitoring device hidden inside a potted plant.

  She checked the back of the dying fern where a flexible antenna ran from the bottom of the pot and dangled over the back of the table. Good. The device was still there, and it didn’t seem that anyone had noticed. Emerson now had all the data he needed regarding communication between Owen’s implants and the problematic Relic Online AI. Leaving the monitor in place any longer added risk while gaining nothing.

  Again, she looked over her shoulder, then put her handbag on the table in front of the fern. Unzipping the bag with deliberate casualness, she turned sideways to get the door in her peripheral vision. Her heart felt like it was running the Kentucky Derby. This spy stuff didn’t suit her.

  When Emerson had installed the device, he’d brought the whole setup, plant and all, inside the hospital in his backpack. Cynthia wasn’t so keen on stuffing a fern in a two-hundred-dollar handbag. She just wanted to grab the hardware and go. She slipped the inner plastic pot out of the ceramic vessel and spotted the little wireless router inside the larger pot. Quickly, she snatched the device and replaced the plant.

  “It’s nice you visit so often,” a man’s voice said.

  Cynthia whirled, snapping her hand behind her back in what she belatedly realized was a ridiculously guilty gesture. The nurse didn’t seem to notice, but instead picked up a tablet that rested on a small stand at the foot of Owen’s bed. He shook his head and pressed his lips together in clear dismay as he scrolled through the information.

  “What?” Cynthia asked, fresh panic flooding her system. “Is something wrong?”

  The nurse cast her a considering glance. He hesitated and took a deep breath. “I know this might not sound great, but I sort of wish there was.”

  Cynthia blinked. “You wish there was something wrong?”

  “Nothing life-threatening. Just a problem we could work on. A treatment that only this hospital could administer.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Now it was the nurse’s turn to look over his shoulder. He stepped back to the door and nudged it partially shut. “Sorry,” he explained. “I don’t want to get fouled up with the governor’s lawyers.”

  “Okay…” Cynthia could understand that, at least.

  “You’re the girlfriend, right? I’m guessing they’ve shut you out of their little loop.”

  Cynthia shrugged. “More or less.”

  “Well, the short story is that the family recently put in a request to move Owen to their estate.”

  Cynthia nodded. It seemed the aide had convinced Governor Calhoun to go with the smear campaign against E-Squared, using his son’s condition as a political tool in his reelection bid.

  “I overheard something similar,” she said. “But they haven’t seen fit to mention it to me directly.”

  The nurse took a deep breath while tapping his finger against the rim of the tablet. After a moment, he set it aside.

  “Do you know the status of his power of attorney situation?” he asked. “Because I really—and this is echoed by everyone here—I really don’t think there’s any way the move will benefit Owen. The cafeteria gossip says the family is working toward establishing iron-clad legal rights to demand the transfer. If there’s anything you could do to get in their way…”

  Get in their way? How? Cynthia had no idea how power of attorney worked, but she figured Owen’s parents would have more sway than anyone. She stood silently for a moment, working the situation over in her head.

  “I can try,” she said.

  “Even getting details on his current legal status would help. Did he ever talk to you about document
s he might have filed? Many of us get the sense that he isn’t close with his family. Maybe he took steps to sever ties formally.”

  Cynthia picked up her purse and slipped the wireless router inside. She shrugged. “It wasn’t something we talked about, you know? Me and Owen I mean.”

  The nurse’s face softened. “Yeah. You guys are what? Twenty-three? Hell, my wife and I hardly talk about what would happen if one of us ended up like this, and we have two kids.”

  The unexpected support struck Cynthia, and the tears from earlier began to prick at her eyes. She looked away. “When are they moving him?”

  The nurse sighed and looked again at his tablet. “The request was for Thursday. Whether or not their legal team can get everything lined up before then, I don’t know.”

  Cynthia jerked as if slapped. “Thursday? You mean in three days?”

  The man nodded. “Yeah. So if there is anything you can do, it needs to be soon.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE AIR NEAR the player camp smelled of cooking fires and weapon oil. The sounds of combat preparation and general character maintenance drifted through the forest of grass stalks where Devon moved unseen. She heard steel sliding over whetstones, grunts and thumps as players leveled kicks at training dummies, and laughter amongst parties preparing for forays. Silently, she continued forward, planting one elbow after the other, rocking her hips and back and forth and scooting her body forward with the inside of her knees and toes.

  You have gained a skill point: +1 Stealth.

  You have lost a special attribute point: -1 Dignity.

  What? She’d lost a point? Devon yanked open her character sheet.

  Special Attributes:

  Bravery: 7

  Cunning: 8 (1 from doublet)

  Dignity: -1

  A negative value in Dignity? What the hell?

  “Jerk!” she whispered.

  A message popped up.

  Don’t worry. It’s not going to affect your advancement much. The biggest damage is to your self-respect.

  And speaking of advancement…

  You have discovered a skill in which you have intrinsic aptitude: Perception (3).

  You have gained a skill point: +1 Perception.

  You have gained a new ability: Inner Calm (passive).

  Much tumult lies in your future. No matter the torment from without, your inner world is a place of sanctuary. Remember to seek it.

  Devon’s brows drew together. Since when did the game award new skills and abilities out of the blue? She checked the ability description again. It almost seemed like…

  Could Veia be attempting to give her tools to weather the coming demonic transformation and journey to find Owen? As far as she knew, the AI was constrained in certain ways when it came to content creation. Veia couldn’t just boost her to level 100, for instance. But maybe the creator goddess understood how important it was that Devon succeeded in the coming days. Maybe the increased Perception and the Inner Calm ability were the best help Veia could give. The thought sobered her, and she took a deep breath before resuming her forward crawl.

  The grass rustled just a split-second before a foot appeared dead ahead. Devon sighed. Apparently, her new Perception skill also needed some focused grinding.

  “Oh. Hey. Sorry, didn’t see you,” a male voice said.

  Devon looked up to see a man in cloth armor standing over her. She sighed and inspected him.

  Baywen: Level 17 Seeker

  Health: 312/312

  Mana: 850/850

  A seeker like Hailey. Devon would have to get them together to talk class strategy or something. The man was looking at her prone form in obvious confusion. Devon rolled her eyes as she clambered to her feet. -1 Dignity… Whatever.

  Once upright, she looked past the seeker’s shoulder and into the player encampment. After spending so much time in a settlement populated by NPCs, the organization of the player gathering spot seemed so strange. Because players logged out instead of going to sleep, the only structures were open-walled, more shade pavilions than tents. Scattered campfires burned in the wide area of trampled earth, most with cook pots suspended over the flames or meat rotating on spits. Players lounged on piles of hide and sat on stools and stumps, eating, talking, and repairing. Some had unrolled parchment maps, and they were pointing out areas to other players. If Devon were to guess, this allowed them to update their friends’ in-game maps.

  The player was still looking at her. “Wait, are you…” He cocked his head. “You’re Devon, right? The…” He circled his hand in the air then gestured toward Stonehaven.

  “The mayor? Yeah. That’s me.”

  Quest updated: Stop being such a shut-in.

  Bonus objective: Actually talk to players at their encampment (1/5).

  Devon stifled the urge to roll her eyes again.

  “So, uh. What were you doing?” Baywen asked, flicking his gaze toward the trail of flattened grass that marked Devon’s path through the savanna.

  She shook her head dismissively while trying not to blush. “Just hoping for easy skill-ups. I haven’t been keeping up with basic character growth.”

  As she stepped forward into the area of trampled earth, another pop-up flashed in her vision.

  Quest update: Stop being such a shut-in.

  Objective complete: Visit the player encampment outside of Stonehaven.

  You could return to Hezbek without completing the bonus objective, but since you’re here…

  The seeker hurried to catch up, and then fell into step beside her. “I’ve been hoping to run into you. I wanted to thank you for setting up the quest NPC in Stonehaven. Some of these guys are happy to hang out and hunt without any real goal, but I’m glad to have some direction while we wait.”

  His words brought back a question that had been lingering in her thoughts. What, exactly, were they waiting for? They’d already chased off the raid of griefers, players who made it their mission to ruin the play experience of others. So why remain?

  At risk of sounding like an idiot, Devon slowed her steps. “I was wondering, actually. What keeps you guys here?”

  He stopped in his tracks, seeming genuinely stunned by the question. “I figured—you mean you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Some of the paladins call it a divine mission, but most of us just think of it as an important quest. Kind of our low-level epic.”

  She shook her head, confused. “I know a lot of you came because Hailey said Stonehaven was under attack. And thanks for that, by the way. But I don’t know what quest you’re talking about.”

  He blinked, then dismissed her thanks with the brush of his hand. “No problem, of course. But are you really saying you haven’t heard of the quest line we’re on? Everyone who asks your medicine woman to bind us at Stonehaven’s shrine receives the first step.”

  “Which is?”

  He looked almost bashful. “We’re supposed to support you in restoring Ishildar so we can swear oaths of fealty as your first vassals. The text is a little vague about how we’re supposed to achieve that, actually. The first steps were fairly straightforward, mostly directing us to get established here. But after that, it just got esoteric. No one knows how we advance this thing, but I’m sure a whole lot of people are hoping you have a clue.”

  Devon shrugged, blinking. All these people had a quest to help her? It was bad enough when Hailey and Chen had shown up with quests that turned them into her sidekicks. There had to be a hundred players out here, probably all waiting for news on her progress in retrieving the relics. She grimaced. So much for privacy.

  “Not that I’m complaining about the lack of clarity,” the guy continued. “It must be worse for you, spawning out here all by yourself and having to figure stuff out. At least we’re all on the same quest line more or less, so we can toss out ideas amongst ourselves.”

  Ideas about how to become Devon’s subjects, appa
rently. Great. She held in a groan and glanced over to where a larger group of players had congregated and were now widening their group into a circle around an empty patch of ground.

  She nodded in the direction. “What’s going on over there?”

  The man followed her gaze. “Oh. That. We’re a little short on mobs to fight a lot of the time, so we’ve started skilling up by dueling. It’s a little slower, but it’s effective. No XP though.”

  As she watched, two players stepped into the empty circle, a paladin and some sort of nature-based caster class. A druid, maybe. The combatants circled one another for a moment, then the paladin glanced at the circle of spectators. “Healers good?” he asked.

  “Healers?” Devon asked.

  “The duel ends when somebody drops below 10% health. Healers stand by ready so that you don’t accidentally kill each other. Equipment repairs are getting expensive now that we’re leveling up.”

  Devon nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”

  “Devon!”

  She whirled to see Torald, the paladin who had briefly been leader of Stonehaven, approaching with long strides. Though she would’ve considered it impossible before, his armor seemed to gleam even brighter than the other times they’d met.

  “Hey. How’s it going?” Devon said, squinting into the glare from his breastplate.

  Quest updated: Stop being such a shut-in.

  Bonus objective: Actually talk to players at their encampment (2/5).

  She brushed away the pop-up.

  “Good,” the paladin said. “I hear you’ve been hanging around Stonehaven for the last few days. Any clues on the location of the next relic? Happy to help if there’s anything we can do.”

  Devon curled her toes inside her boots. No pressure, right? She shuddered to think that all these people were stuck on a quest line while she’d been hanging out doing character and settlement maintenance.