“That it’s not just HotCat, who can control the sword, but the sword can control HotCat, too! Do you get it now? At a critical moment, the sentient sword can force HotCat to slice and dice whatever the sword’s AI deems fit! ‘True possession’ is merciless!”
“Yeah, that’s how it happened!” I said. “In Tombs of the Necromancers, it sprung into my hands, even though I didn’t equip it!”
“That’s right. Moving on. ‘Undetectable’ is also a property of NPC weapons, and only legendary ones. It’s intended to protect, say, a god’s equipment from getting scanned by players.” Olaf seemed to be just getting warmed up. “Soul Eater! This property allows it to completely destroy an NPC of any rank by stealing their soul but sealing it inside the item. After taking a hit from this sword, the NPC won’t respawn! The last time Soul Eater items turned up, they caused a global disaster in Taerland—Balance was only restored after drowning the continent.”
“Pandas are rumored to have a few Soul Eaters,” Komtur remarked.
“They are smart enough to avoid using them,” Olaf snorted. “They realize how much it would affect Balance, and how the ‘procedural’ generator might react to it.”
“Quality: Key! I haven’t found anything out about that at all! What key? What does it open?”
“The weapon adds ten to all attributes, so in total, seventy points. They can’t be re-distributed for a specific build, but still, seventy attribute points is at least six months of leveling up.”
“Keep it short, Olag. We’ve all seen the affixes. What’s your conclusion?” Komtur asked.
“I’ve almost finished. The most interesting thing, the cherry on the cake, so to speak, is True Flame damage. This damage type is basically unknown, yet the logs do contain a mention of it.”
Olaf made a dramatic pause.
“I discovered it by accident. See, during Sphere of the Worlds’ beta-test, sometimes, the ‘procedural generator’ destroys unsuccessful worlds. The testers noticed it when it happened, the message said, ‘World has been cleansed with True Fire.’ It’s the only mention of it. In short, True Fire damage is dealt by Sphere’s main AI.”
“Whoa!” Balian couldn’t help but blurt out.
“In a nutshell, in my humble opinion, the sword of our new recruit, is an NPC weapon intended for an NPC, a rank six or seven NPC at that—like deities. It’s a divine sword, guys! And not for an ordinary low-level god, but for somebody close enough to Sphere’s main balancing entity. I have no idea how it could have ended up in HotCat’s ‘true possession’, moreover, I am now sure that this faction war event is Balance responding to the emergence in Eyre of a player with such a powerful weapon.”
I shivered. That wasn’t why I started playing Sphere. I wanted no part in cataclysms like the night-time battle with the demon and PROJECT HELL inside the castle.
“Maybe I should, umm....go away, leave the faction?” I suggested.
“Calm down, Cat. No need to leave,” Komtur told me. “The Watchers don’t abandon their own. Personally, I think that a player with such a weapon could make the clan much stronger.”
“The procedural generator has already reacted,” Olaf affirmed. “The sword has been counterbalanced, there shouldn’t be any more trouble. As for faction war...”
“That’s not such a bad thing,” Komtur continued, smiling. “My Watchers have spent too long in the stable. Time to get their blood going! We need a war. Too many carebears in the alliance, it’s bound to shake them up!”
“You’re forgetting that the admins have forbidden Cat to use the sword,” said Abel coldly. “What are going to do about that?”
“That’s an interesting question,” said Olaf, scratching his head. “This new admin team is always putting their hands in places they don’t belong. I’m not an expert on gaming law, but I don’t think they have a right to ban HotCat from using the sword, as he obtained in via in-game means.”
“Easy for you to say. What if they try and ban me anyway?” I remarked.
“They won’t touch you! There’s been precedents, people have sued them for lots of money for that.”
“Going to court isn’t part of my plan. So what, you want me to use the sword, after all?”
The Watchers exchanged looks and paused. Komtur broke the silence.
“We aren’t forcing anybody to do anything, HotCat. And then, using such a powerful weapon for small stuff would be stupid. But there might be a situation when…” The leader of the Watchers stopped talking and threw me an inquisitive look.
“I get it,” I said, coughing, and nodded. “What about the continuation of the quest? The Magister’s letter?”
“Ah, that’s very simple,” Komtur replied, a disarming smile on his face. “Akhram, the headquarters of the Orden, is half a day’s travel by birdie. We’ll get you there, you’ll talk with the Magister.”
“But only after the battle,” he added. “Tomorrow, I’m going to need all my men.”
Location: The world of Dorsa, the continent of Dorsa, the city of Dan-na-Eyre
The grey somber morning turned out be a quiet one, too. A chilly wind was blowing across the city, whistling in the pipes, spinning weathervanes, and swooping up drooping banners. The thick crowd of NPCs that had filled Lily Square for as far as the eye could see started moving, with people muttering, “There... They’re coming out...”
A few armed men quickly climbed the stage in the center of the square and stood next to the bannermen, each under their own flag. Those were the Lord Errats, the vassals of Eyre. The crowd grew restless, trying move forward and take a look at them, and the people at the back pressed on those at the front, but the “barleys,” who had secured the stage, immediately pushed them back, spears at the ready. They had mean empty expressions, and the tips of their weapons were freshly sharpened. The crowd recoiled.
There were four Errats, but five banners flapping in the wind.
The scarlet and blue flag with a lynx’s head was Davn. Pale blue with a three-crested mountain peak: Ardat. White with a violet flower: Vista. Blue with arrows and a black crane: Erda.
The last in line was a yellow-blue banner with a barley ear in a circle of seeds. The symbol of the Eyre Nation, the “old barley” inherited from the Old Kings… Nobody was standing under it.
The Err’s castle, charred and half-ruined, hung over the square — a reminder of the nightmare of the previous evening. People in the crowd were pointing at it, whispering with looks of fear.
Another NPC entered the stage, walking at a stride. He was a knight in blue full-plate, fair-haired and sullen, purple bags under his eyes. He looked over the crowd with an empty tired gaze.
“Laort...Lord General Laort...” the crowd murmured.
“People of Eyre!” Laort shouted, his voice hoarse. “This night, our nation lost its Err!”
The crowd was calm. Everybody had already heard the terrible news. The Vulture hadn’t exactly been well-loved by the people: he had ruled his faction with an iron fist, but he had been Eyre’s rightful ruler.
“He was killed by an assassin sent by House of Darkness!” Laort continued. “It was a treacherous and despicable murder, committed under the cover of night! The enemies were too scared of our lord to offer a fair fight. Soon, they will pay for the atrocity!”
The crown exploded in cries and shouts, whistles and curses. When they calmed down, Laort, once again, raised his armored hand.
“They will pay! But first, people of Eyre, we must do the most important thing! We must swear allegiance to the new Err of our nation!”
“New...new Err...” the crowd was worried. Who would take his place? Nobody knew what to expect from the unpredictable Errats.
“The Err left an heir!” the general declared with a strained voice. “His son!”
A young man hurriedly climbed onto the stage. He was slender and dark-haired and wore a sword, silver armor with engraving, and a simple green cloak of a common “barley”. His head wasn’t covered, which d
emonstrated his handsome features, his dark curls swept by the cold wind. Two guardsmen followed him, one carrying the Crown of Eyre, studded with emeralds, and the other, the Err’s golden cloak, embroidered with barley ears.
“Endven Elyon!” declared Laort. “The son of Laon Elyon!”
Weldy squeezed my hand, throwing a loaded look at the Err. My friend was pale and defeated, with dark circles under her eyes—she had spent the night crying. After all, her uncle, Ciage Nialit, had died that night, perishing for good, with no possibility of respawning. As it turned out, he had been a rank four NPC and had belonged to the Lord Sorcerer class.
Laort took the crown and placed it on the head of the kneeling youth. Then, he draped the golden cloak around his shoulders and whispered something in the new Err’s ear.
“Here is the Err of the Nation of Eyre!” He yelled, ending the ceremony and getting down on one knee as well. “Here is your lord!”
Komtur: Group leaders, report.
Damian: All clear.
Balian the Raccoon: Clear. No one’s here!
Brontosaurus: It’s all good, chief!
Komtur: Got it. Continue watching.
The crowd roared ecstatically, and cheers drowned out rare occasions of booing. Endved was looking at the sea of people raging before him but did not smile. He had a cold emotionless expression, his full lips pursed. The faction crown and cloak suited him.
Meanwhile, the vassals started swearing allegiance to the new ruler. The Errat of Davna was the first to kneel. The Errat was a stately dark-haired man, an old friend of the Vulture. His head bent, he kissed the cold blade that Endved had drawn from the sheath and said loudly,
“I, Sirion Maign, the Errat of Davna, recognize you, Endved Elyon, as the rightful ruler of the Eyre Nation and my sovereign and swear my allegiance to you!”
“I, Revern, the Errat of Edna...”
“I, Anastin, the Errat of Ardat...”
“I, Aliar, the Errat of Vista and Laim...”
The crowd raved at each new oath. Even Weldy seemingly cheered up and clapped her hands a little. Only Anastin, tall and snow-haired Errat of Ardat, a province in the far north, was awarded with loud booing. His land had once rebelled, and Eyre hadn’t forgotten it.
After swearing their oaths, the Errats returned to their standards. A wide yellow-green banner of the Old Kings was unfolded above Endved, and war horns, trumpets, and kettledrums roared, loud and triumphant. The guardsmen pulled out their swords and banged their hilts against their shields, in praise of the new Err.
Endved stopped the noise with a gesture of his hand. He raised his blade above his head and announced in a nervous voice:
“People of Eyre! I, Endved Elyon, call to you for blood and revenge! My father’s killers must pay for their crime! People of Eyre! We’re marching out to destroy our enemies!”
The audience was ecstatic. Endved was majestic, in his golden cloak and the Err’s crown, his sword raised above the crowd.
Brontosaurus: So what, nothing?
Komtur: Apparently. Tao didn’t come. Weird, it would have been a good moment to attack.
Balian the Raccoon: I’m with you. I was sure he’d come.
Damian: So, should we remove the sentries?
Komtur: Yes, do it. The NPC’s gone. Group Two, Hermione, continue watching, just in case.
Hermione: Roger that. He won’t even go to the john without me noticing.
Komtur: The others, at ease!
Komtur: Raid will be tomorrow, at 7 PM, New Tokyo time. See clan and alliance messages for details and equipment. ATTENDANCE MANDATORY!
Almost forty Watchers, who, like me, were scattered throughout the crowd, watching the square from walls and towers, or hiding in stealth near the gate, breathed out in relief.
“Where are you headed, Cat?” asked Nico, my clanmate, as the crowd dispersed. Nico and Lionel, by the way, were the best swordsmen at Liberty. Balian always praised them, unlike me. But then, both were experienced players, who had been playing Sphere for more than six months.
“Me? I’ll walk the girl home and sleep at the tavern. I’ve been up since half past three.”
“Can I keep you company?”
“Of course. The more, the merrier.”
“What will happen now, HotCat?” Weldy did not let go of my hand. “What?”
“A huge campaign, baby,” Nico answered instead of me. “Did you hear the Err’s announcement? Tomorrow evening, the army will sent out from Eyre, and our raid will join them.”
“Will you protect us? I’m scared,” the girl sobbed. “They managed to find their way even here, right into our heart!”
“Well, that was Tao!” Nico blew her off. “He can do that and more!”
“Who is he, by the way?” My interest was piqued. “A local celebrity?”
“Something like that. A big cheese. Just look at his killrate, ten thousand kills! They say, he’s a Russian Japanese and that’s he’s handicapped, spending all of his time in a capsule playing. That’s why he’s achieved so much.”
“Basically, cream of the crop.”
“Well, if we take the whole of Sphere, there are better players than him. But in Dorsa, he’s definitely one of the best.”
In the meantime, we reached Weldy’s shop. After kissing me on the cheek and bidding a frosty goodbye to Nico, she disappeared through the doorway.
“Hey, Cat, why are you leveling up your rep with her? She’s just a vendor,” Nico asked.
“I like her.”
“Ah, you mean like that,” he said, giving me a knowing look. “Well, she’s a pretty girl, I give you that. But she’s probably flagged as ‘virtuous’, you’ll have a hard time increasing your reputation.”
“Don’t waste your time with her,” he continued to teach me. “There are girls in the trade quarter for that. No virtue problems, and all of them, pretty as a picture! Do you want me to show you a few places?”
I had heard a lot about the girls in the trade quarter of Eyre, brothel signboards were a dime a dozen. I guess it was a profitable business. Anyway, the net was full of VR ladies, fit for every taste. Here’s your Marilyn Monroe, here’s your Aimi Akada. I had gotten my fill of that long ago. Of course, here they had a medieval setting and all that... I wondered how legal it was.
“I’ve heard she can grant access to a main story quest,” I said. “I want to get it, that’s why I’m spending time with her.”
Nico gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“Forget it, Cat. It’s a lost cause. If you don’t believe me, look at the wiki.”
“I will,” I promised him.
“You probably don’t have a clue about this, but bear in mind, that when you increase your rep with her to Admiration, she’ll fall in love with you, and ask to become your henchwoman.”
“So, what next?”
“She’s useless as a pawn. And when you refuse her, your reputation will become negative. She’ll start hating you! NPCs only offer to become henchmen once. Be very careful when picking your henchmen! And your Weldy is a purely ornamental character. She’s useless. Got it, Cat?”
“I think so,” I sighed.
“Then how about we talk a walk to the trade quarter?” Nico said, winking.
“Another time. I’m busy today,” I said, dodging the offer.
“You’re so stubborn, Cat,” my clanmate concluded. “Well, suit yourself. Bye!”
Just for a kick, I opened up the wiki. There was a special section with profiles of almost all NPCs, and it was constantly updated with fresh info and players’ comments. It was stupid to assume that of all the four million players populating Dorsa, I was the only one to court Weldy.
Seventy thousand named NPCs were listed in the World of Dorsa, Continent of Dorsa, the City of Dan-na-Eyre subsection. Whoa. I hadn’t expected so many. My girlfriend was number NPC 2/DNU-145525.
Weldy Nialit.
Rank 2 NPC, class: Noble Townswoman.
Gender: female
, age: 20 years.
Distant relative of the court mage and stargazer Ciage Nialit.
Vendor in a shop owned by Ciage Nialit.
Wares sold in the shop...
I skipped the description. The most interesting thing was the comments left my the players beneath the article. There were more than fifty of them. Some of the brain farts made me sick.
Guys, she’s not giving it up!
Stupid cow.
Why the hell do you need this shop anyway, I’m buying everything at auction!
There were bits of information there, too.
Starts giving quests once you’ve reached “Devotion”. Nothing special, just the usual fetch stuff...
It takes a year to level up rep with her.
Forget about her. Tiny XP, rewards: cheap potions and scrolls.
Only one comment offered any insight, however.
I reached “Admiration” with her. She revealed her stats, four thousand SPs. Nothing special, a journeyman herbalist and alchemist, trader. In short, I wasted lots of time on this one.
So that’s how it is. I mulled it over. Interesting. So, Weldy had never given her main quest, the “skeleton in the closet,” to anybody. And yet, that was the quest that enabled an NPC to open up and change, like a chrysalis transforming into a butterfly.
CHAPTER 20 THE BATTLE
Night passed and a new day dawned over the city of Dan-na-Eyre. Despite the early hour, few people were sleeping. The city was full of armed NPCs, and a crowd of onlookers were staring at them. Err’s army was about to go to war.
The outskirts of Eyre were teeming with warriors. Brightly-colored tents and pavilions were being set up. I could hear the wheezing of carts and the neighing of horses, and both riders and foot soldiers marched out in formation into the fog that shrouded the Old Road. Above them waved the banners of Erda, Vista, Ardat, and the other vassals of Eyre.
The Errats were the first to leave. Their light cavalry was in the rear guard. Behind them followed a grey line of chainmail-clad infantrymen, and behind them, the knights who served the Lord Errats themselves.
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