Liar King

Liar King Page 9

by Adam Elliott

  “And mobs don’t have a movement stat.” This from Silver. She was studying the floating screen with the same intensity as Cayden, the two talking over one another as the same realization hit them. “Mass Combat Rules?”

  “I’m sorry, Field M-Cayden.” Roberta said. “I’m not familiar with the term. Valserys?” The stern man replied with a simple shake of his head. “It is my understanding that the War Frame produces a sort of… summary of military strength, allowing for informed tactical decisions to be made by even the most novice of military commanders.”

  “So mass combat rules.” Cayden nodded, running a weary hand through his hair as he sought to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.“Neither of you have any idea how this works, do you?”

  “…Not directly, Field Marshall.” Valserys admitted. “I’ve been assigned to assist you with strategic and tactical matters but this, this I am not familiar with.”

  “Wonderful. So we’re going to be learning by trial and error.” Cayden groaned.

  “Better than having some Navi shouting in your ear, Hey Look! Isn’t it?” Silver smirked.

  He pondered that for a moment, then grudgingly agreed. “A tutorial would still be nice.”

  “How are we seeing this?” Michael asked, seemingly ignoring the other two for his own thoughts. “The updates, I mean. Is it real time, if so, is it some sort of divination, or?”

  “It is a form of natural Mind magic, as I understand it,” Roberta explained. “When I transferred ownership of the frame to you, it linked to the mind of every being under your command. It registers their senses, and reproduces them here.”

  “So, if they see an enemy…”

  “Then the enemy would appear on the frame as well.” She nodded. “And depending on the qualities of the unit involved, as well as prevailing conditions, the frame can provide you with varied information about the opponent.”

  “A real-life board game within a real-life video game,” Michael remarked with equal parts wonder and horror.

  “Certainly looks that way.” Cayden nodded. Then he turned his attention to Valserys. “Order a hundred of the men to the courtyard. And see if we have any sort of sparring or training weapons that we can give them. I’d rather we not have to risk our troops to do some tes… why are you looking at me like that?”

  Valserys was indeed looking at him like that. It was an expression that was hard to describe, not quite confusion, but something beyond that. Like he was asking him to do the dumbest thing on earth and, being the professional he was, Valserys was trying to find a polite way to verbally slap some sense into him. “Field Marshall-”

  “Cayden.” He cut in.

  The man bristled at that. “No, Field Marshall. You are my superior officer, and when dealing with formal business,I would prefer to address you as such.” Rebuking his superior didn’t come easy to the other man, and it took him a moment before he could finish the thought that he has started. “You do not need to give me instructions on how to direct the troops. The frame allows you to make your will known directly.”

  Cayden turned his attention back to the table, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. Natural Mind magic, she had said. It wasn’t enough that the frame allowed him to essentially peek on the vision of every soldier under his command, but he could move them directly?

  Tentatively, he reached out and touched the same soldier he had begun with. The figure didn’t move as he poked and prodded it, nor was he capable of lifting it from the table itself. Which made sense, this was a projection, not some godlike interface where a Black and White style divine hand was descending from above to move the units he’d selected.

  “Try touching him and touching somewhere else?” Silver suggested. It was better than any idea Cayden had in mind, but ultimately no more successful.

  “Double click?” This time the words came from Michael.

  “Yeah, because that’ll… work. Damn.”

  He’d humored the other man even as he’d taunted him, thinking that proving his point by acting on it would keep any argument to a minimum. To his shock, however, Cayden watched as a vibrant blue line erupted from the soldier he’d touched to the area he’d ‘double clicked.’ Almost immediately the man turned and began to march down the street as indicated. He took the shortest, safe route to the destination, and once he arrived, he stopped and stood motionless.

  To his surprise, Michael didn’t have any snappy comeback, or even any petulant or snippy reply. The man, like the other two humans in the room, stood in silence. No doubt his mind was processing the same sort of complicated thoughts and emotions running through Cayden’s?

  “Do they have to obey when ordered like this?” Cayden asked at last.

  “A soldier will always obey an order.” Valyserys insisted.

  “That wasn’t what I meant.” He shot back. “Do they have to follow the order. Does the frame compel them to do so?”

  Valserys fell silent, either unable or unwilling to answer. In the end, it was Roberta who did so. “I cannot say for certain, but my best guess is yes, and no.”

  “Well, that is certainly helpful.” Silver frowned.

  “Apologies, Lady Silver.” The mage snorted at that, but Roberta continued unabated. “It is a difficult subject to discuss. What do you know of Mind magic?”

  In truth, it was a subject about which Cayden knew very little. Mind magic was Elan magic, similar to the Transmutation or Illusion magics that Aaron and Vincent, his Rune Magi instructors, had specialized in. He knew that they were grouped into a number of spheres, but beyond that, not a lot else. It hadn’t been pertinent to his build order or his strategy for playing the game, and there was little enough information out there about it as it was.

  “One of the twenty-one spheres of Elan magic, it is sort of what it sounds like, isn’t it?” Michael asked. “Manipulation and domination of the mind.”

  Roberta shook her head. “Perhaps to a layman, but it is far more than that.”

  “The magic of Those Who Stayed is the magic of fundamental creation. Life, Death, Mind, Shadow, Fire. Each of the twenty-one spheres of magic reflects an unbridled natural power.” She explained. “The magic of your arcanists touches on this power, drawing and mixing to create its effects. While the magic of the divine draws power from the Great Emperor or his surrogates.”

  “An Elan spellcaster draws power exclusively from a single sphere. A Transmutationist from the Manipulation Sphere, or a pyromancer from fire.”

  “But there are arcane pyromancers,” Michael interjected.

  Roberta shook her head. “It is not the same. Even your pyromancers dabble in other magics. They have powers universal to all disciplines and can learn from outside their discipline even if they are more limited. An Elan might twist their source into unique shapes and permutations, but it always originates from one source.”

  “In addition to the manipulated magic of the Elan, however, there is natural magic. The existence of elements in nature, of good and evil, time and energy, all of these exist as natural manifestations of the spheres of power.”

  “And mind magic?” Cayden asked.

  “I was getting to that.” Roberta smiled softly. “Emotions, thoughts, and ideologies are all part and parcel of Mind magic. Among those, the concept of loyalty.” She gestured to the table, to the man that Cayden had ordered. “This man has sworn loyalty to you, and as a result, the War Frame can impart your orders to him. So long as his loyalty is sufficient, he will follow them unquestioningly.”

  Michael cocked his head to the side quizzically. “Sufficient?”

  Roberta shrugged slightly. “The mind sphere is nearly as far outside my expertise and understanding as one can get, but I believe there are spells that can qualify, per
haps even quantify loyalty.”

  “Like a stat?” Cayden pressed.

  “In a manner similar to the way the frame quantifies combat statistics, yes,” Roberta replied. “Considering the dangers, the troops Duke Elazio provided you with should be unquestioning in their loyalty. Short of literal suicidal orders, they should obey any command they are given.”

  And there was the rub.

  Cayden blanched at the thought. It was one thing to be put in charge of Elan troops, giving them verbal orders and fighting alongside them. But this? For all the discussion leading up to it, the answer Roberta had given had been the one he’d dreaded. These men would do what he forced them to do. The frame wasn’t giving orders to soldiers; it was pulling the strings of puppets.

  “This… is wrong.” He said, at last, looking at his two Elan advisors. “Don’t you see that? I mean you must.”

  Roberta eyed him for a moment, then reached for the table itself. With just a few manipulations she directed its focus to the tower, then to the study itself. He could see the Elan there, two black figurines across the table from three similar figures made out of white stone. “With respect, Field Marshall, I believe I know better than you do.”

  It took him a moment to catch her meaning, his guts wrenching when he finally did.

  “The frame manipulates natural loyalty,” Valserys explained. “But I have a stronger loyalty to my men than I do to you, Field Marshall.”

  “That is why we tested it on ourselves before bringing it here. The effect is not one of domination, but of suggestion.” Roberta continued for him. “A subtle distinction, but one we are willing to endure for the greater good of the task at hand.”

  Valserys nodded. “My soldiers would obey any order from your lips, short of suicidal orders. That the orders come differently makes little difference.”

  Cayden looked to Silver, then to Michael. Of the two, only Michael seemed to have the same expression of discomfort that Cayden knew was plastered across his own face.

  “They’re right.” Silver said at last. He shook his head, but she pressed on with the thought despite him. “It is a little messed up, sure, but given the option, I’d say we’re way better off directing them through this thing than out in the field.”

  “I know it makes sense from a game sense, but these are people we’re talking ab-”

  “No Cayden.” She shut him down. “They are Elan; there is a difference. Look, I’ll show you. Command: Privacy.”

  Roberta and Valserys spoke in near unison. “Excuse us, Field Marshal, we’ll leave you to discuss this in private.”

  “No. Stop.” He ordered, wincing at how quickly they stopped in their tracks. “They’re different, I’ll grant you, but they’re still people.”

  “Look, if you don’t have the stomach to use this, you can go out, and I’ll manage things from here.” Silver snorted.

  “You cannot,” Valserys said sternly. “The troops will only follow Cayden or those he has commissioned in his service. You are neither.”

  Silver waved in the direction of Valserys. “There you go. Deputize me, and you can go out in the field without having to worry about any of this.” Her voice turned sickly sweet as she continued. “I’ll even stay nice and safe just like you wanted.”

  Cayden’s skin warmed, and his nostrils flared as he struggled to fight down the anger welling up inside him. “Okay, that is it, Silver.” He growled. “You’ve had it out for me since Immolatus. What the hell is your problem?”

  “Didn’t I make it clear enough last night in the tavern?” She shot back, glaring daggers. “Here, I’ll use small words. You act like this is a game.”

  “You two maybe this isn-” Michal started, trying to interpose himself between the two, before a harsh look from each sent him packing.

  “You really think that?”

  “Of course I do.” Silver snarled. “You have a unique skill, the first unique skill I or anyone else has ever heard of. But you don’t share any details with the CFC. You have a Grand Quest that for all we know, could be the secret to defeating Sobol’s Demon. But do you accept our help? No, because you want to do it yourself! How many people do you think have died while you’ve been playing the Special-Little-Snowflake gamer?”

  “Silver I-”

  “No.” She snapped. “You asked, and I’m not done!” Her hand gestured towards Valserys once again, then out to the courtyard at large. “How many players do you think are left on this floor right now?”

  “I have no idea,” Cayden said, biting his cheek to keep from snapping at her.

  “Two hundred thirty-eight.” Roberta chimed in quietly.

  “I’m sorry?” Cayden asked.

  “There are two hundred thirty-eight bloodline descendants currently remaining on this floor.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  The answer came to him even before the diminutive Elan finished pulling up the list on the War Frame. It was just a list of names and levels, with a small counter at the top left corner to give a numbered total.

  “Nearly two hundred and fifty players.” Silver shook her head. “Hundreds of people and you are debating on whether or not it is okay to use the best tool we have at our disposal to keep them safe?”

  “I’m not debating anything. It’s a question of freewill.”

  “They are Elan!” One of the woman’s hands raked through waves of her long raven hair, fingers crooked as though she were about to tear it out at any moment. “They have no more free will than my shoe. Elan are no different than any other mob in the tower; they’re just better at pretending to be alive.”

  “I’ve had quite eno-”

  “Command: Silence.” Silver said flatly, choking off Valserys in the middle of his outburst.

  “Enough.” Cayden finished for the man who could no longer speak. “You don’t like Elan, fine. We get it.”

  “No, you don’t! It isn’t about liking Elan or not; it is about survival. The Developer doesn’t care if we like Elan, but he sure as hell is going to expect you to send them into battle if he gave you that.” She pointed at the nearby War Frame. “If you’re this caught up in the idea of giving them orders, do you think you’ll be able to send them into combat? To send them to die? Because if you aren’t then you need to appoint someone who can.”

  An uneasy quiet settled as Silver finished the last of her rant. Her face was flushed, her hands clenching and unclenching with each deep breath she took in to calm herself. If not for the crippling debuff, it seemed possible to Cayden, perhaps even likely that she might have lashed out at him in anger at that moment.

  “I understand what you are saying,” Cayden said at last. “Maybe you’re even right.”

  “Then yo-”

  “I’ll use the War Frame.” He nodded. “But I’m not going to throw these people away, and I’m sure as hell not going to put you in charge if that is how you feel. They aren’t cannon fodder, no matter what you say, and we aren’t so desperate that we need to expend their lives carelessly.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Silver said grimly. There was more she wanted to say, that much was clear, but she bit her tongue, willing to accept her victory, at least in the short term. “Not yet.

  Chapter Eight

  “Roberta.” Cayden turned his attention to the Elan woman. “What else can you tell me about this War Frame?”

  She stepped forward when spoken to, still a tad demure in the aftermath of the player’s screaming match. Her expression spoke to how little he would like her answer. “Precious little, I am afraid.”

  “Unwilling? Or unable?”

  “Unable.” She said promptly, as though she were afraid to allow even the implication to linger for more than a few moments. “What little I do know comes from knowledge the device imparted on me when
it came into my possession, and some small experimentation before we had it moved here.”

  Cayden quirked an eyebrow at that. “Imparted knowledge?” He asked. Just as quickly, however, he realized her meaning. When Roberta had transferred ownership of the device to him, he hadn’t had to ask what she was doing, or why she was doing it. He simply knew. The sensation had been so insidious that he only now realized that the thoughts were not his own.

  It was not a sensation he enjoyed.

  “Yes, Cayden. You should have similar understanding about how to transfer ownership of the-”

  Cayden cut her off with a raised hand. “I understand. Tell me about your experiments.”

  “Of course, Field Marshall,” Roberta replied, reverting to his title out of discomfort.

  What followed was a brief crash course on what little Roberta had gleaned from the artifact in the time she had spent with it. She showed him how to select multiple individuals, which turned out to be as simple as drawing a line around them, rather than touching an individual. Tapping a soldier twice in rapid succession would add or remove him from a group selection, while a floating information box kept track of the selected individuals and the overall power of the selected unit.

  In addition, Roberta showed them how to, in her words, alter the height of the viewing aperture. Or in English, how to zoom in and out.

  “What is that line?” Cayden asked as Roberta pulled back from the close-in view of Bastion.

  “I… am not certain.” She admitted.

  The line in question was ruler straight. It ran perpendicular to one of the keep’s outer walls, appearing as an unnatural indentation in the plains outside the city. Its course ran directly across where Cayden and his party had entered, so it would have been impossible for them to miss it if it physically existed, which made it an oddity on a map that was otherwise perfectly to scale.

  “Zoom out a little more,” Cayden instructed, the map distorting and shifting as they drew the view further back to show both the city and its surrounding environs.

  “Is that?” Michael asked, only to end his thought with a gale of boisterous laughter as he came to the same realization that everyone else had.

 

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