by J D Astra
Amara had done more than just make tea. She’d spread a small feast out before us, along with a very potent mango beverage called Law-jiu. I wasn’t in the mood for drinking, but I devoured the meal in a matter of seconds. Amara had watched with a straight face, but eyes that glimmered with amusement. When the meal was put back, it took everything I had not to fall asleep. So instead, I stood at the window to keep my eyes open.
The door creaked and the sound of light footsteps followed by a heavier tromp followed. When I turned, my exhaustion melted away. Jack stood at the far end of the room, his messy hair and lopsided breastplate just as adorable as his misbuttoned shirts in our college days.
My heart gave a flutter and I broke into a run, slamming into Jack with the weight of all the days that I’d been apart from him. I squeezed myself against his chest, wanting nothing more than to melt into him and let the rest of the world fade away.
“Jack,” I said, tears welling in my eyes, “you have no idea how good it is to see you.” I pulled myself against him even tighter.
He inhaled sharply. “Good to see you, too, but maybe you could reduce the enthusiasm of your hug.” He paused, grunting as he tried to take another breath. “I think you’re breaking bones.”
What a goof, ugh, I’d missed him. I squeezed one last time and stepped back. “Sorry,” I said, unable to contain my smile despite all that had happened. “It’s just been a really shitty couple of weeks. I was so happy when I got your message, but it’s not the same as seeing you.” I prodded him gently with my finger, making doubly sure he wasn’t some illusion. “Seriously,” I sighed the words, “it’s so good to see you. You have no idea.”
I took him in, more than just that he was real, but what he’d accomplished. He had a polished warhammer at his belt, wicked vambraces, and a soft purple glow that emanated from all around him. He was physically no different from when I’d left him in the clearing of the secret area, yet there was more to him now.
I smiled and reached out for his chest. “You look good, Jack. I mean it. More grown up somehow.”
He grinned, his cheeks flushing a deep purple and his skin radiating heat. The timer in my vision flickered again, reminding me that this was no time for pleasantries. “But enough of that,” I said, clearing my head. “As much as I’d love to get drunk and celebrate, we’ve got some business first. So much has happened.” I sighed, then launched into the events of the last several days.
As the story dragged on, we made our way to the table and sat. Chief Kolle and his hunter brigade graciously gave us some privacy, and we delved even deeper into the details. Otto pulled my wanted poster from his inventory, holding it out to Jack to inspect. He visibly freaked, eyes bugging out at the price on my head: a thousand gold marks, equivalent to a hundred thousand dollars back IRL.
He had a lot of questions about how we were found, and I didn’t have many good answers. Patrick could’ve been the answer, but it seemed Carrera’s people were on us like stink on a trash heap. They had to have known before then, somehow.
Jack passed the wanted sheet to Cutter, who scanned the thing up and down with laser focus. Then, Cutter raised his hand like a schoolchild and said, “Quick question, though. I noticed this wanted sheet lists High Commander Carrera as an immediate point of contact. Funny thing, but that name sorta rings a bell for me.” He paused and scratched his chin. “I don’t suppose this High Commander Carrera is in any way related to the sod we robbed a few days back, eh?”
Jack locked eyes with me, and I nodded solemnly.
“It’s the same guy,” Jack replied.
Cutter scowled and said, “Ah, I see.” Then, with his voice loaded with sarcasm, he declared, “Well, I think I’ll just go feed myself to the bloody Spider Queen. That’ll be a far more merciful death than what the Inquisitors will do to us.”
Jack stared at Cutter for a long minute, then shook his head as if to clear it. “I feel like I’m missing something. I’ve never even heard of the Inquisitors. Who are they?”
“They’re monsters, Jack. That’s pretty much all you need to know.” Cutter sounded as though he knew firsthand. His voice was low, and serious for once. “This Carrera bloke must be a new appointment, but no one gets that job without being depraved in the head. And not depraved in a good way, like me. The evil kind of depraved. The Inquisitors were created to sniff out sedition and stomp out the Eldgard rebellion, lots of Holy Templars in their number.
“At least that’s what they tell everyone. Really though, they’re the emperor’s personal enforcers. Cross the emperor and the Inquisitors will disappear you.” He paused his story and snapped his fingers for dramatic effect. “Poof. Gone just like that. And no one will ever see you again.”
We sat in silence, soaking up his words. If Carrera was truly the head of the Inquisitors, it would be incredibly bad for us, but also incredibly telling. Carrera had been put in a place of power, a “new appointment” Cutter had said. This could be what Osmark had been planning all along.
Cutter sighed and stood, then began tugging on his shirt. He pulled his tunic up to his chin, revealing old crisscrossing scars that ran the width of his stomach. He began again, “That lot likes to carve folks up. Make ’em talk whether they’re guilty or not. And they have special weapons that make it so you don’t heal right. You’ll carry their brand with you forever, assuming you live, which you probably won’t.”
Jack looked away and I could see the pain in his pinched brows. He cared for Cutter, much like I cared for Otto. Cutter was a childish turd sometimes, but his wounds revealed more about his character than I would’ve guessed. His backstory wasn’t real but it was to him, and it had been one of the things that made him the way he was.
I took a deep breath. “That makes sense, that Osmark would appoint someone like Carrera to that position. Most of the people on his team are politicians, tech whizzes, and business leaders—not exactly the kind of people who are comfortable getting their hands dirty. But I read up on Carrera.”
I paused as images from his records flashed in my mind’s eye. Osmark had dug up all the dirt on everyone he ever worked with, and I was sure, everyone who worked for him. There were pictures of Aleixo posing with dead bodies, all stuffed with cocaine and ready to ship back to America. Images of what he did to his enemies... what he did to his enemies’ children. Carrera was a real live monster that scared me more than any in-game threat.
“He’s a killer. A glorified trigger man who worked his way up the ranks of a drug cartel in Colombia. Definitely the kind of person who doesn’t mind getting bloody.” I swallowed hard to fight the bile turning in my stomach from the flashes of his gruesome handiwork. “The real question now is, what do we do next? How do we move forward knowing what we do?”
Jack pointed a finger into the air, then came forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he said, “I think I might have an answer for that. I think it’s time you heard my story.”
He took a deep breath and launched into the details of how his quest to becoming a Dark Templar began with an old Maa-Tál woman who marked his arm with what looked like a blackened handprint. That led him to Chief Kolle, where he fought a huge Moss Hag in order to earn his class kit: Shadowmancer.
After defeating the monster that had plagued the Ak-Hani clan for decades, he told Kolle about the Faction Seal, and in turn, Kolle told him it was for creating factions, guilds of sorts, founded upon major cities. Yunnam was apparently just major enough, and if we wanted, we could activate the Faction Seal at their Keep, making Yunnam, and the Storme Marshes, our base of operations for fighting against Osmark.
“Osmark,” Jack said and puffed out his cheeks. He fidgeted on his pillow as his eyes roved around the room, and his voice grew quieter. “There’s something else about Osmark,” he said. He chewed his lips twice and then licked them. “You’re not going to believe this—”
“I hardly did,” Cutter interrupted. “The stupid sod told the story like a fairy tale.”
&n
bsp; Jack went on as if he didn’t notice the interruption. “The Overminds are sentient, and I know this because the Overmind Sophia came to me a few days ago.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Jack help up a hand, saying, “Hear me out.
“She warned me that Enyo, the Overmind of discord, was working with Osmark to sow chaos in Eldgard. Not in like, a malicious way, I mean”—he groaned— “it’s her job, so she’s not trying to destroy everything, just ‘make it interesting,’ so says Sophia.” He air quoted the words, then leaned back on his pillow. “In any case, Enyo is helping Osmark to gain control of Eldgard, somehow, and Sophia wants us”—he pointed to everyone at the table—“to work with Chief Kolle, form a faction, and prepare to go to war. She specifically used the words ‘be my pawns,’ and apparently, Abby, you were supposed to be head pawn of them all, but you left the Faction Seal with me, so here we are.”
I’d never worked directly with Overmind code, but I’d had to use Sophia’s when tying into the questing system. The random anomalies, the strange, unexplainable code that seemed generated completely independent of our queries and requests... we had designed them with stateless LSTM in mind, and the programming went well. Or at least, as far as I knew.
Then, as if by divine intervention, a quest update appeared in my vision.
<<<>>>
Quest Complete: On the Edge of a Blade Hangs Balance
Sweet Abby, you’ve traveled far and wide, died in many tries, and come close to losing your only companion. For that, I commend your strength and determination. This quest has tested your mettle, and the fire in your soul fueled your progress. You would’ve been a worthy Champion, but you will be an even greater Priestess. Keep your eyes on the horizon for Naitee’s call and Asima’s challenge.
Reward Earned: 50,000 XP, +20 to all base stats, not including Luck, and Sophia’s Favor.
Sophia’s Favor
You have earned Sophia’s Favor! Clouds part and seas calm at your coming. Maintain a passive influence on neutral contacts to make them more abiding, and friendly contacts will help at your request.
<<<>>>
“I always suspected the Overminds were more advanced than anyone gave them credit for,” I mumbled as I continued to stare at the pop-up for Sophia’s Favor. That was game changing. Neutral contact would be more “abiding”? I’d have to figure out what that truly meant, but even friendly contacts helping at my request, with no other convincing or payment, that would be huge. Jack fidgeted behind my pop-up, and I closed it out.
“I mean that was never my department.” I paused, thinking of the dungeon of coders who toiled on five of the seven Overminds for years. “The folks designing those things were freaking genius, but I always believed they were probably sentient. With the kind of power they have access to, how could they not be?”
Otto grunted. “Do you think we can trust this Sophia? I’ve never been one to have dealings with gods and goddesses. Too fickle for my tastes.”
I recalled how Otto had just recently called out to Sophia, demanding she not take Renzik’s life. Had she been there? Had she really been listening? Did she actually whisper back to Renzik, or was he having death hallucinations? I’d have to ask if I ever got to meet her.
“I don’t know,” Jack said with a sigh as he ran his hands through his dark hair. “But even if we can trust her, I’m not sure how I feel about being anyone’s pawn.”
If Osmark was working with Enyo, there was a chance we were already too late to do anything about this. Osmark and his goons had twenty-six Faction Seals. Twenty-six cities against our one. Even if we started now, built fast, and attracted a good group of guildies, could we face off against an army of that magnitude?
I swallowed back the doubt. Eldgard was my home now. Jack, Otto, and Cutter, they were my family. There was no going anywhere else, and no changing what had already happened. The only way was forward.
I sucked my teeth and spoke before the silence dragged on too long and the doubt I’d felt spread through the others. “Well, at this point, I really don’t think we have much choice, not if we want to survive the next few months.”
Surely some of Osmark’s lords and ladies would turn on him and form their own groups, and they might go to war for a time... but Osmark would come out on top. V.G.O. was his brainchild, and he knew it better than most. No one would survive him, but if that did happen, it could give us an edge. More important than all that, the Seal could still be stolen from us. If Carrera could track my movement, it was time to get a move on.
“I’m not sure how this is all going to play out in the long run, but short term, I think the way forward is clear. We need to talk to Chief Kolle and form a faction, and we need to do it soon. Before Carrera can track us down and take the seal back.”
Jack’s face contorted with worry. “You’re sure that’s the best thing to do? I mean, hypothetically, we could go anywhere and form a faction. Maybe someplace like Rowanheath would be a better option. Someplace bigger. With more pull and resources.”
The taunts of “Traitors” and “Murderers” came back to me as I recalled how we’d been run out of Harrowick. It was likely under Osmark’s control now, and those murders had been his play to get his people in place. Just as he put Carrera in with the Inquisitors.
I shook my head as I laid it out. “I can’t say I’m a huge fan of the Storme Marshes, but there’s a reason why this place is still a free city. Rowanheath is great. So is Harrowick, but the empire already has a strong presence in both places. We’re going to be badly outmatched, and we need every edge we can get.”
They were silent, watching me. I hardened my face and squared my shoulders. “I don’t see what other choice we have. Let’s go found a faction.”
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VLAD NARDOIR IS A RUSSIAN weapons engineer who has learned to live with compromise. A prototype can be attractive or functional. A man can work or have his legs broken. A husband can watch his wife die in a state hospital or borrow money from the mob. A soul can be chained or it can be crushed into dust. Freedom is never a choice.
After forty-three years of being a tool in the hands of the oligarchs, Vlad’s life has reached critical mass. His wife is dead, he owes a debt he can never repay, and there’s an extinction-level asteroid hurtling towards Earth. In a wild twist of fate, he has found a way out. Uploaded to a virtual online world called Viridian Gate Online, he's got the knowledge and the grit to prove the old adage: in Soviet Russia, the tool fixes you.
ONE: Times of Crisis...
Timeline - 4 days before Astraea
, 09:45
“INA, IT HAS BEEN TOO long.” I sat with my legs crossed at the grave of my beloved. The grass, what little remained of my small backyard, was overgrown and dying. There had once been flower beds under the windows of our home, they were a riot of colors, all shapes and sizes. Flowers I could never keep, but Ina was different. Plants thrived under her eyes, they flourished under her care. Sadly, those were also dead. I had a friend who worked in the Stone Masonry carve Ina’s headstone, made of a dark black marble. It was truly gorgeous. He had done a fine job, it looked like her, even down to the way her auburn hair flowed in the wind. He had captured every detail I could remember, everything she was in the picture I had given him to recreate. It was a simple scene, we were at a festival in the Saint Petersburg Plaza, she was looking at the statue of Catherine the Great, the wind blew, her hair bellowed in the wind, and the picture was perfect. She was my own personal Catherine.
“I regret that we cannot be together any longer.” I choked back a tear, no, I did not have time to cry. There was much work to be done yet. Time for crying would come later. I stood from the grass and laid a small bundle of flowers at the grave. She wasn’t buried here, of course. She was buried in the National Cemetery, for her work to advance the science of Chemistry in Russia. It was the one thing that Mother Russia had given her. The flowers were purchased from one of the small flower stalls nearby, one of the last bundles they had. I was late leaving work again, and it was shameful for me. Bah, regrets are a powerful thing. I needed to get my mind off of her. It had been six months since she passed away, and the pain was still too fresh. Perhaps having her memorial in the backyard was not such a smart thing after all, but I wanted to keep her close, and the grave yard where they buried her was too far away for frequent visits.