“If only it were that simple,” I responded sadly.
“Oh, come on, don’t complicate things.” Milly threw her hands up in the air. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Hurry up! The ship is about to hit the water, and we’ll miss the best part.”
She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me through a thick crowd of onlookers. Players and NPCs alike had gathered to watch the ship launch.
Milly moved quickly, and I had no choice but to keep up since she held onto my hand the whole time. As a result, when we got to the Gray Witch and her entourage, all of whom were standing on a small wooden platform raised a good bit off the ground, I was panting and bedraggled.
“Well, what do we have here?” The witch smiled when she saw us. “Where did you find such a good-looking young man?”
“Hi there,” I said, returning her smile.
“He was over on the pier,” Milly Re said loudly. “I figured he could come watch us launch the Arminstrad from close up since it isn’t every day that we launch ships.”
“Nobody here minds, certainly,” the Witch replied, gesturing with her arms.
Something screeched, there was a rumble, and a minute later, we heard a splash. The crowd on the pier cheered wildly.
“What just happened?” The Gray Witch looked around at the group.
Cedric Sekira laughed suddenly, clapping his hands on his thighs. A few other Hound officials joined him. Meanwhile, the Witch continued glancing from one to another with an expression of confusion on her face.
“Did you wave your arms?” Cedric asked when he caught his breath again.
“Yes?” the Witch replied, irritation creeping into her voice.
“Well, there you go. What kind of signal do you think the shipbuilders were waiting for?”
The Gray Witch looked down, then at us, and then back at Cedric before quietly giggling.
Even I had to smile.
“Damn it, Hagen,” shrieked Milly. “You made me miss it! I missed it! The whole thing!”
“Milly, come on,” I said, trying to reason with her. “You dragged me up here yourself. How is it my fault?”
She snorted in frustration.
Once the Hounds stopped laughing, they started climbing down off the platform. The Gray Witch walked over to me. “So, how’s life?” she asked, her voice sincere. “Everything good?”
“Oh, you know,” I answered her in kind. “The usual.”
“They’re saying something big just went down in the North. You were up there, right? Did you hear anything?”
I sighed heavily. “I don’t know that I’ve heard anything, but I did see the whole thing.” There was no point lying. Perhaps better said, it was worth telling at least part of the truth. “The admin set up a game event with a bunch of NPCs killing other NPCs. It was something to see!”
“Ah, it’s a shame I didn’t get up there then.” The Gray Witch shook her head as if letting me know that there was a no greater tragedy in her life.
“But weren’t there some of yours there?” I asked. “I think I saw Romuil, and he might have been with Miurat—at least, the two of them hang out.”
“You saw Romuil there?” Fredegar, Hounds’ security chief, asked from behind me. “Are you sure?”
“Only the gods don’t make mistakes, and even that’s not exactly true,” I replied, turning in his direction. “But I’m sure. It was him.”
“And did you see Miurat himself?” Fredegar’s face was deadly serious. “Or anyone else from our clan?”
“No, I didn’t see Miurat. And I don’t know if anyone else from your clan was there. I’ve only met you all, Milly, and another five or six of you.”
“That makes sense. I’ll be honest with you, my friend,” the Gray Witch said, taking me by the arm and whispering to me mysteriously, “even I don’t know the names of everyone in the clan. I’m fine with faces, but names, and especially the names of the people we’ve had join lately… It’s terrible, but what can you do? That one, Romuil, he joined recently as well, right, Fredegar?”
“Yes.” Fredegar grimaced as if biting down on a handful of cranberries. “A political refugee. So he and Miurat are friends?”
“I don’t know about friends,” I said evasively. “It’s just that when I was at the mistress’s birthday party, they came over to me together. I thought the two of them had something going on—at least, that’s what it looked like to me.”
“Got it,” Fredegar said slowly.
“What happened?” I was intrigued. They were both players I’d spent some time with.
“By the way, Hagen,” the Gray Witch said, smiling radiantly, “look over at that ship.” She pointed toward a majestic, white frigate moored to one of the docks.
“That’s our flagship, the one I sent you the ticket for. What did you decide about that, by the way? Are you going to sail with us or not? I don’t think there’s too much time left before we’re ready to embark.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said frankly. “I’ll see how things look when we get closer, but I don’t want to plan anything yet. It’s not tomorrow or something like that, is it?”
“No, definitely not tomorrow,” the Witch assured me. “We have other plans for tomorrow; we’re going to be playing mafia.”
I looked around at the clan leadership with respect. It doesn’t get much more meta than a game within a game, and not just anyone can pull that off.
“Where are you headed off to now?” the Gray Witch asked, apparently in a tactful attempt to let me know that the show was over and I was free to go.
“Back to the Free Companies,” I sighed. “I’m a soldier now.”
“Whoa,” Fredegar said with surprise. “Why’s that?”
“The experience, a way to explore the South relatively quickly, and a few other things,” I said, counting them off on my fingers. “You have to try everything in the game.”
“So, you’ll be in the South for a while now, I guess,” the Witch said thoughtfully. “Excellent.”
“If that’s it, I’ll head off.” I waited for the Witch to nod her approval, said goodbye to everyone, and waved to Milly. She still had a look of annoyance on her face and walked off in the direction of the city center. I needed to visit the hotel and drop off the extra money I was carrying around. It would have been interesting to find out how much the NPCs were making with each raid, as I had a nice stream of cash coming in. At least, by my standards.
Maykong was a tricky city, and what I thought was the main road narrowed gradually until it turned into an alley that dumped me into a shadowy park.
“Stop him!” somebody shouted, and I heard footsteps and the clash of weapons.
A short player dashed toward me down the alley, and behind him were three mustachioed characters with nasty-looking faces that were scowling savagely. What surprised me was that they were all NPCs, and all of them were aggressive. But they’re wearing the city guard uniform?
I’d barely had time to register that surprise when the fugitive stopped next to me and croaked out a request, puffing heavily.
“Hey, give me a hand here?”
I dubiously watched the whole scene unfolding—the mustaches closing in on the scout, whose name was Joker. There was no time to give him an answer before the first mustache made my mind up for me. All I could do was pull out my sword and parry his blow—my shield had to remain on my back for the time being.
After summoning my wolf, I had him go after the second killer, leaving the third for Joker. He wasn’t in a hurry to take on his opponent, however, preferring to circle him warily.
The trio wasn’t very high-level, and so I was able to polish mine off quickly and land a critical hit to the back of the one focused on Joker. The third, however, got lucky. He killed my wolf and took to his heels, yelling back at us in parting. “You’re dead men! The whole city is going to hear about this, and the guards will all know your names! I’m goi
ng to tell everyone in the guild, too!”
His promise made, the surviving mustache spat in our direction and sprinted off.
“That’s not good,” Joker said with a shake of his head, leaning over and collecting what should have been my loot. “This is a problem.”
“Well, yes,” I agreed, collecting the loot from the first body and deciding to forget about the second—that’s what you get when you’re dealing with the Joker. “But could you explain to me, my good man, why your problems are now mine? I’m just wondering why that guy is going to tell the city guard and some guild something. What guild, by the way? And what do I have to look forward to?”
“How do I put this?” Joker started, obviously winding up. “It’s just that—”
“I can tell my own stories, thank you very much,” I said, cutting in. “Are you a thief?”
“That’s my class, yes,” he replied with a nod.
“And in real life?” I asked directly.
“No, not like that. Though I’m not one to pass up a good opportunity.” He looked me in the eye. “The problem is that I have a stake in the game.”
“Hmm?” I looked at him inquisitively, letting him know that I wasn’t sure if I should ask him what his stake in the game actually was. I wasn’t sure I’d get an answer.
Joker simply shrugged with a sly smile, as if letting me know that I might one day get the truth—but not right then.
“Okay, Hagen, we need to get out of here.” Joker looked around apprehensively, especially scanning the alley and the shadows starting to fall across it in the twilight. “They wouldn’t come at us all at once, and I’m not sure we can fight them off when they do come. That bastard could get the thieves’ guild after us—that’s who he was talking about. Well, and the city guard, obviously.”
“Wait, why do I have to fight them off? You’re the one they’re after,” I muttered sullenly, realizing full well that I was already in too deep.
“You and I both have to deal with the thieves and the city guards now. The former want us dead, and the latter will be after our money—and they may want us dead, too. I have to get out of this city, but how? Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
“What do you mean, how? Just jump in a portal and be done with it,” I replied, surprised, as I matched his fast pace out of the alley.
“I can’t. There’s an important deal I have coming up, so I have to make sure I’m here every now and then.”
He has a deal… What kind of scout is he? Anyway, I wanted to get him back for screwing me over.
“Why don’t you join us?” I asked amiably.
The scout squinted at me. “Who is ‘us’?”
“The Free Companies,” I replied with a wink. “Ever heard of them?”
“Oh, please,” he exclaimed incredulously. “Life’s miserable there, isn’t it?”
“I’m standing right here, aren’t I?” I spun around and assumed a heroic stance. “That’s all there is to it! I’m full, I go out and get drunk, and I have all the tobacco I could want. That’s the ‘army.’ Every week we get a day off, and I’m practically drowning in experience. The army? Yeah, right, the army. Every few days we go out on a mission, but other than that, we just lounge around. No marches, no drills. And plenty of money.”
“Sure sounds great.” Joker looked at me, his suspicion still not allayed. “Are you serious?”
“Fine, forget it,” I replied, waving him off. “You’re a big boy; you can do what you want.”
We left the alley, which had led me to the park. “Do you know where the central square is? I need to go drag a few mates out of the bar,” I asked the scout. I’d decided not to visit the hotel, figuring that going off to find it would be just asking for more problems. The scout pointed me in the right direction, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.
“See you!” I called with a wave. He waved back, his eyes reflecting his unwillingness.
“Thanks—I owe you.” He nodded and walked off.
Nothing else happened on my way to the main square, and the first thing I saw there was the hulking figure of Ur. He was happily running around in the fountain, lifting his legs up high and splashing a few guards who were obviously leery of trying to stop him.
The rest of my group was relaxing around the fountain, egging the Northerner on with advice and shouts of encouragement.
“Splash that one. He looks like he needs to relax!”
“You’re dancing, but why aren’t you singing? Everything’s better when you sing!”
“Yeah, exactly! Songs are what get you through life, and…they just help with everything!”
“You dog, you!”
“Free Companies, yee-ee-ha-a-aw!”
The guards were hesitantly threatening to bash Ur’s face in, though they clearly wanted nothing to do with the crazy mercenaries. Past experience had taught them well.
“Oh, Hagen!” Ur yelled when he saw me. “Come on over here, let’s go for a swim!”
“Come on, let’s go!” I said. “It’s getting dark, and we need to head back to the barracks.”
“Really?” He stopped, the guards also falling silent and staring at him hopefully.
“Really,” Lane responded strongly. “It’s time to go. Are we all here?”
“Fattah’s missing,” Torn said. “He went to see a friend at the Lodestar, and ended up staying.”
“We should get him.” Lane looked at Ping. “Otherwise, he’ll think we forgot about him.”
“There he is,” Pong answered instead of Ping. “He’s coming.”
I followed the brothers’ glance and saw Fattah leaving a pub with a large figure I thought was vaguely familiar. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see his name in the gathering dusk, and he opened a portal and jumped in before I could go over to get a better look.
“Hagen, you’re here? I didn’t think you were going to be playing today.” Fattah smiled at me amiably as he walked over.
“Ah, I decided to jump in for a while and see the city. Hey, who was that? I feel like I know him,” I said, deciding to ask the question before I forgot.
“Just a friend. We went on a raid together a while back, and happened to see each other here.” The elf waved off the question. “Time to head back?”
I wanted to ask him what his friend’s name was, but that thought left my mind the second I realized that the portal back to the base was there on the main square—not back in the alley where it dumped me.
“Lane,” I said, tugging on the sleeve of the group’s most sober member. “When you’re coming here to Maykong from the company, does the portal drop you here or something else?”
“Here, of course,” the tracker replied, adjusting his belt. “This is where all the fun houses are, not to mention the Lodestar. We always drink there; it’s tradition. The portal takes you here, and we port back from here. Really, the Maykong authorities don’t like it when we go off around the city. They don’t mind if we get into trouble here, so we stay out of the residential areas.”
What’s going on? There was a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. Pawny, who are you?
Chapter Six
In which the hero is rented out.
“Hey, babe, you remember that we have to go to the pastry store first, right? I know a really good one near Park Kultury.” That was how Vika greeted me when I stepped out of the capsule and into the real world.
“‘First,’ and then where?” I asked apprehensively.
She pulled herself away from the glossy magazine she was paging through from her cross-legged position on the couch, her eyes widening. “So you forgot. Sweetie, we’re going to see your parents tomorrow.”
Oh, boy. I really had forgotten. We’d scheduled a trip, but the only problem was that my parents had no idea. Oh, no, and mom might have dragged dad to the dacha “one last time.” She had a habit of closing things, reopening them, and shutting them again, all under the guise of “one last time.” The “last time” often coincided with the “first time�
�� of the next year, in fact. The only things that got in the way of all her “last times” were heavy snowfalls or other good reasons: catching a cold, big sales, or visits from possible future daughter-in-laws. That, at least, was how my mom always evaluated my girlfriends. My opinion didn’t matter in the least, and that’s why I rarely let her meet anyone.
However, I could tell by the way Vika was looking at me that uttering a single word about how we weren’t going would mean… Well, I wasn’t sure what it would mean, but I had no desire to find out. The previous few days had been difficult for both of us as it was. And you can’t constantly be tearing down budding relationships like the one we had.
“Of course, we need to head over,” I said, obediently nodding. “Just you go ahead and take charge, figure out where to go and pick out the cake. I think they’re all good.”
“Pies, not a cake,” Vika replied. “We can get a mix, the kind with lots of little pies in a big box…”
My stomach heard her say “pies,” and responded with a loud, clearly audible gurgle.
“Got it. I’ll go heat up the cutlets.” She got up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen.
“Cutlets,” I said to myself as I pulled out a cigarette and watched her walk away. “That sounds good.”
Out on the balcony, I finished my cigarette and called my parents’ house, hoping against hope that they hadn’t left for the dacha.
I was in luck—they were just about to leave. My mom had spent the whole evening trying to decide if they should go or not, and it was only when she’d driven my dad good and crazy that she thought up an ironclad argument. “I was just waiting so we wouldn’t have to deal with traffic.” Then she started pushing in the direction of the car. My dad put up a feeble resistance, but he’d already lost by the time I called.
It took him all of a minute to tell me the story. It was mostly interjections and conjunctions, but I knew mom well enough to fill in the blanks.
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