by Phil Tucker
Michaela steeled herself. “Yes, my lord. As you command.”
“Very well. I would equip you with items to even the odds, but such items would be infused with the same necrotic energy that has corrupted your friend, and would be barred by the ward from being taken below. Instead, I offer you the full run of Feldgrau, and the amity of the dead who walk its streets.”
“Joy,” I said, then caught myself. “I mean, thank you, Dread Lord. Unless there’s anything else…?”
“That is sufficient,” said Guthorios. “For now. You have my leave to depart.”
“Great,” I said. “Michaela, want to meet us up at the castle this evening?”
She leveled a flat glare at me. “As you command, Chris.”
“Good, good. Well. Great visit, very constructive, time to go. Bye!” I hurried out of the chamber, down the steps, then out of the Broken Tower into the town square. Falkon followed hard on my heels. I averted my eyes from the charnel pit, and in silence we jogged out of Feldgrau, heading toward the path that led up to Castle Winter. It was only when we were several hundred yards beyond the village’s perimeter that we stopped.
“OK,” said Falkon, turning to stare at the Broken Tower below us. “That was truly messed up.”
“No kidding,” I said, moving to sit on a rock. “Do you believe any of what he told us?”
Falkon scowled, hands on his hips. “I don’t know. This is some serious stuff, though. His ‘god’ – the Dead King that Kreekit told us about – has to be Albertus Magnus the AI. The god is called Uxureus in Euphoria, but all the gods are just thin veneers for Albertus himself. Which means Albertus itself wanted Jeramy’s treasure. Which… doesn’t make any sense.”
“Jeramy was an archmagus, right? Lotharia told me that meant he could weave magic outside of set spells. Create magical effects as he saw fit. Which… if spells are like running set programs in the Euphoria system, then archmagic would be like coding directly into the system, right?”
“Yeah,” said Falkon. “Something like that. But to run with your metaphor, even an archmagus has to work within the coding language of Euphoria. That’s the essence we see around us. So even if he wanted to, Jeramy couldn’t create something completely outside of the Euphoria reality.”
“Not true. Lotharia and I ran into his robot butler inside his tower. That’s outside the Euphoria paradigm, right?”
“Yeah… true enough. Even if it was within his own sanctum. I don’t know.” He chewed his lip. “This is some weird shit, I’ll tell you that. I mean, Guthorios said Albertus took out Jeramy. That’s never supposed to happen. You can get killed by just about anything in this game, but by the god of the undead directly? I’ve never heard of that happening. Ever.”
“And why would Albertus want Jeramy’s ‘treasure’?” I rubbed at the back of my head, trying to figure it out. “That makes no sense. What would Albertus want with in-game treasure of any kind?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Falkon. “I mean, this is all assuming Guthorios told us the truth. But even if he’s lying, these are really weird lies for an NPC to make. I’m suddenly really glad Michaela’s going to be joining us. I’ve got a bunch of questions for her now.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” I rubbed at the stubble on my jaw. “Either way, an NPC horde of undead came in incredible strength and wiped out a bastion of player activity. That happen elsewhere in Euphoria?”
“I mean, there are huge raids set up to test cities and the like, but they’re not overwhelmingly powerful. They’re designed to provide a really exciting battle, lots of moments of heroism, and are usually clearly signposted as to what levels should be where and when. I’ve taken part in a bunch, and they’re a blast. Low-level guys run equipment and tackle minor infiltrations, mid-level players are usually on the walls, while the high-level guys are running super important missions to take out the enemy leadership.” He gestured at Feldgrau. “But they’ve never resulted in anything like this. Hundreds of player avatars slaughtered and raised as the dead? An entire castle abandoned? An archmagus killed by the god of undeath slash Albertus himself? No way.”
“Huh,” I said. I turned to gaze up at the ruins of Castle Winter. “Well, here’s a question for you. Why the hell was this castle built all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? Lotharia told me it’d take ages and ages to hike to the next closest civilization. Like, months. That normal?”
“Well, normal? No. But it’s not all that weird, either.” Falkon sighed and sat next to me, setting his pack of bundled plate armor on the grass. “I mean, Castle Winter is like first gen, built right at the beginning when Euphoria was starting up. Things didn’t always make organic sense at the beginning. And Jeramy always said he picked this place because he was sick of being bothered by stupid people and wanted an amazing spot in which to party. Every morning, people who wanted to teleport out would gather in the bailey and he’d send them to Goldfall or Seven Crags or whatever. So… yeah. It wasn’t a big deal to be isolated, and actually we kind of wore it as a badge of pride. Being Cruel Winter felt kind of like being part of a really cool club.”
I nodded slowly. I remembered the reporting on Euphoria when it started out. It had been depicted as a wonderful kind of Wild West, where there were few rules and lots more craziness. That had all settled down over the following few months as Albertus got a grip on how he’d wanted to run the game, implementing more realistic systems and layouts and doing away with the HUD and crunchier aspects of the game.
“Still,” I said, “there’s no way Albertus or Uxureus or whatever took out Castle Winter just because people were partying too much in here. And what about that ward? That struck me as the weirdest part of all this. As powerful as Jeramy was, how could he create a ward to keep Albertus himself out?”
Falkon blew out his cheeks. “Damned if I know. Guthorios’ story is so full of holes that I’d discount it as a pack of lies. But. He’s a really, really powerful NPC. I’m sure Albertus has allotted enough processing power to him that Guthorios is smart enough to know how ridiculous his story must sound. Which means he’s either deliberately trying to make us think he’s lying, or actually believes what he’s saying.”
“OK, this is starting to hurt my head,” I said. “One thing’s clear, however: we don’t have enough information to decide what’s true or not.”
Falkon snorted. “Which Guthorios knew. Hence his urging us to let our curiosity drive us forward. Sneaky. Because now I do want to know the truth of all this. I had real friends in Cruel Winter. It really hurt when I got trapped in that time bomb. I was upset in the real world for weeks. And I want to know what or who was responsible for that, and make them pay.”
I nodded. “I’m curious, too. You know I’ll help as much as I can.”
“Yeah,” said Falkon. He gave me a grin. “You’re good people, Chris. I’m glad it was you who got me out of that trap.”
“Any time.” I stood, stretched, then clasped my hands to my stomach as it gurgled. “Oh, man. I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”
Falkon heaved his plate armor back up over his shoulder and rose. “Let’s go see what Barfo’s got cooking. I’m up for a big lunch, a long nap, and then a good chat with our new friend Michaela.”
“Agreed.”
Falkon started up the path, but I lingered a moment longer. Stared down at ruined Feldgrau, at the charnel pit and the Broken Tower. I hated to admit it, but I was excited. Excited to be caught up in these strange events, to be in the center of a mystery that defied my understanding. When I’d signed up for Death March I’d known this would be an intense experience, but I’d never guessed it would be this fascinating, this terrifying, this bizarre and fun.
If only Lotharia were here to enjoy it with me. My feeling became bittersweet, and I was filled instead with a sense of intense resolve. I turned and followed Falkon back up to the castle. I must have been mad, but in
that moment I’d not have traded my place for anyone else’s in the world.
3
We walked in through the main gate of the castle for the first time, no longer needing to bother with the siege bridge and crack in the tower. I intended to head right up to the keep and call for Lotharia, but my thoughts were dashed by a bizarre sight. Barfo stood atop the wyvern, a huge cleaver in hand, a leather apron tied around his neck, grinning and prancing as if he’d won the lottery. Dribbler had started a large fire, which frankly looked like it was rapidly growing out of control, while Kreekit sat to one side in a meditative pose, eyes closed, a faint nimbus of green light floating around her head.
“Guys?” I slowed to a stop. “What’s going on here?”
“Feast!” Barfo slapped the flat of his cleaver down on the wyvern’s flank. “Feasty times! The best of times, when hungry goblins eat and munch, blood goes spurt and bones go crunch—”
Dribbler cut in seamlessly, dancing around the fire now and bowing to it as if the flames were an eldritch god. “We dance and drool, we cut and slice! Hot sizzling wyvern taste very nice!”
Barfo held up his cleaver and sang to it, his voice charged with excitement. “So much fresh and yummy meat! More than we could ever eat! Slice and dice and cut it fine, then goblins eat for the rest of time!”
I grinned. “Wyvern tastes that good, huh? And what about Kreekit there? What’s she doing?”
Dribbler stopped his mad prancing and assumed a sober look. “Kreekit commune with goblin shaman of the Big Burpie Tribe. She call them to come buy meat. We going be rich!”
My grin disappeared. “Wait. She’s inviting a whole goblin tribe here? How many we talking about?”
Barfo scratched his chin. “Big. Big Burpie called Big Burpie because they big. They have seventeen goblins!”
“Only seventeen?” said Falkon. “That’s not so bad.”
“Well, no. That’s the only number Barfo knows. Could mean anything.”
Dribbler ran up to us, suddenly all solicitous and kind. He patted our knees then ran around us in a tight circle. “Fear not, big humans! This Green Liver land! We masters of the meat! Ogre meat, wyvern meat, rat meat – the Big Burpies will respect, will behave, and will give us much gold and silver for such rare and juicy food!”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “But how are we going to go about our business in here if this turns into a goblin meat market?”
“Oh, but you so smart, you must think better with that big head of yours,” said Dribbler, caressing my knee. “You want all this meat to go bad? Stink up castle? Ratties and batties and flies and maggots, squirming and wiggling and making this very, very bad place? No! You need get rid of meat. Now. You have two options.”
“Seventeen options,” agreed Barfo.
“Best option first: you let us be helpful. Friendly goblins get rid of meat for you, and pay you gold! Or two: you cut up meat all by your sad lonesomes and throw in ravine. That would make the world sad, and everyone cry forever. Not a good choice.”
I couldn’t help myself. They were so earnest and excited. “All right, all right! You can sell the meat to the Big Burpies. But let’s not have their whole tribe move in, right? Keep them on the lower slopes outside, and only have their important goblins come in to deal. OK?”
“Chris so wise!” Dribbler did a backflip and came up grinning. “He so smart he sharp like whip, his words go snicker-snacker bip bip bip!”
“Yeah, don’t make fun of his charisma eleven,” said Falkon. “And, if you think about it, Dribbler’s right. We get these huge carcasses taken care of, and make some money in the process. First, though, you should claim the cleared portion of Castle Winter, allowing you to claim your commission of all trade done within its walls.”
“Now we’re talking,” I said. “All this talk of Dread Lords and mysteries aside, that’s my long-term goal here. Make as much money as I can, which I can convert to dollars to use alongside Albertus’ pardon to help my brother and set us up with a new life. So. How do I go about claiming the castle?”
“Here, open your character sheet.” I did so. An icon appeared that indicated he was looking at mine as well. “Now, see that top-level stat called ‘Domains’? Tap it.”
I did so, and a new window opened up before me.
You currently claim no domains. You currently have four partial domains available to be claimed:
The goblin tower [broken, 2] (Castle Winter)
The Iron Throat tower [broken -4] (Castle Winter)
The bailey [broken -2] (Castle Winter)
The barbican [broken -4] (Castle Winter)
“All right,” I said, fighting down a shiver of excitement. Claiming territory? Awesome. “I see the two towers, the bailey, and the barbican. But they all have the broken condition?”
“Right,” said Falkon. “Until you direct resources to have them fixed, they won’t generate any reputation for you. But in the meantime, go ahead and tap them. Since nobody else is claiming them right now, all you need do is claim them for yourself.”
I did so, and each flared gold and then moved up to appear under my new header of ‘claimed domains’. “Awesome. And how do I go about fixing them?”
Falkon frowned at his own sheet. “Looks like the crunch has changed on this like everything else. But basically, you need gold and workers. Here. Close out of that window and open ‘Allies’.”
I did so, and a new window opened up before me.
You currently claim no allies. You have one potential ally to be claimed:
The Green Liver tribe [Level 1 goblin tribe, +1 labor] (Shaman Kreekit)
“Right. Now, you can’t just claim the goblins as your allies until you officially ally with Kreekit. Once she’s agreed to work for you, you can claim them and give them tasks.”
“This is feeling more old school,” I said. “More familiar to what I was used to. You said there was even more crunch back in the day?”
“Yeah,” said Falkon. “It looks like Albertus has reduced the system to just labor and broken conditions. Once you claim all of the castle – including the keep – you can claim the title of Castellan, and that’ll open up a host of new options for you. Until then, you can work on fixing your partial domains, which should confer a host of new benefits, like titles, income, reputation, and so forth. But with just three goblins under your command, that’s going to take some time.”
“Huh,” I said, flicking back to my newly claimed domains. “Looks like the goblin tower and bailey should be relatively easy to fix.”
“Sure. Now, try this: tap on any of those Castle Winters you see.”
I did so, and a new window popped up:
Castle Winter is comprised of six partial domains. You currently claim four:
The goblin tower [broken -2] (Castle Winter - Chris Meadows)
The Iron Throat tower [broken -4] (Castle Winter - Chris Meadows)
The bailey [broken -2] (Castle Winter - Chris Meadows)
The barbican [broken -4] (Castle Winter - Chris Meadows)
The archmagus tower (Castle Winter - Archmagus Jeramy [uncontesting])
The keep [broken -5] (Castle Winter - Xylagothoth [contested])
“Xylagothoth?” I frowned at the name. “Who the heck is that?”
“The boss of whatever’s occupying the keep. To be honest, I’m relieved we didn’t see Lotharia’s name there. Now, if we clear the keep you should ostensibly be able to claim it. See the ‘uncontesting’ and ‘contested’ tags there? That means you have to take the claim from Mr. Xyla, but once you do so you can claim all of Castle Winter as your full domain, as Jeramy set his ownership of his tower to ‘uncontesting’, meaning he’ll fold his partial domain under your full domain. Make sense?”
“Yeah, mostly.” I looked past the goblins and corpses to the keep. “What about the dungeons beneath the castle? Why aren’t the
y listed?”
“My guess? They’re simply not part of Castle Winter. That, or it’s related to this whole ward thing Jeramy put up, and Albertus isn’t able to list it in your sheet. I don’t really know.”
I nodded, rubbing my chin. Barfo was tracing his future cuts along the wyvern’s shoulders and back. “Time to lock in some allies.”
“Atta boy,” said Falkon. “Have fun. I’m going to scrounge up some food.”
I stepped over to where Kreekit was meditating, and sat cross-legged before her, resigned to waiting until she was done with her spell. To my surprise, her eyes opened, revealing just the whites, which then rolled down to show her irises. The green glow over her head faded away, and after blinking several times, she smiled toothily at me.
“Chris make Green Liver tribe very rich.”
“Yeah, I think we all stand to benefit. Not least because we no longer have ogres and wyverns living right next to us.”
“Yes, yes. New age! We turn meat into gold. Grow fat in belly, fat in money sacks.”
“Yeah. About that. We’ve been working great together. Barfo’s poison and super soup really made a difference in the fight, and Dribbler’s wiring of the barrels of pitch was great. I respect you and your wisdom, and think there’s a lot more room for us to grow together.”
“Mm-hmm?” She’d adopted her poker face, which meant she looked crafty and pleased with herself.
“Mm-hmm is right. So what do you think about formalizing our partnership? I’ve laid claim to most of Castle Winter at this point. I’d like to make the Green Liver tribe my allies, and work together so that we both get rich. And well fed. Sound good?”
“Wise,” said Kreekit, and I let go of a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Many Big Burpie goblins coming. Good to stand united. To present power they must respect. I accept your offer of alliance. Green Liver tribe work for Chris, as long as Chris take care of Green Liver, treat us with respect.”
“Deal,” I said, and I extended my hand. Kreekit studied it in confusion for a moment then slapped it away.