by Adam Elliott
"So the damage they take from these practice runs is organizational?" Silver asked.
"And morale, and exhaustion." Valserys agreed. "I know of scant few soldiers who would be ready to throw themselves at a waiting enemy after hours of drilling under a hot sun."
"Point taken."
"So we'll avoid drilling them to the point of exhaustion. But a few more tests more shouldn't hurt." Cayden said. "Before that. We should make a few changes."
"Tests hmm?" Silver asked, a twinkle in her eye. "For science?"
Cayden grinned, that same mischief playing across his expression. "For science!"
Chapter Ten
If there was one thing about Babel that Cayden thought he would never get used to, it was waking up in a strange bed.
Son of two middle-income parents, he'd never traveled much as a child or as teenager. The few vacations they had in a year were most often spent camping or visiting family. Waking on the hard ground beneath his tent, or on an air mattress in his uncle's office, those were what Cayden was used to. Awakening in a four post bed so large that he couldn't reach from one end to the other no matter how he slept? That was just weird.
It was a weirdness compounded by the hour in which he woke. Somewhere, outside of the endless ocean of down feather bed, his mirror was buzzing at him, the slightest line of light emanating from the corners of the face down device. It was the only artificial light in the room, though just enough of it was illuminated by the crescent moon visible through floor to ceiling windows on the far end of the bedroom.
The Master's Chambers, Roberta had called them.He'd slept in an open bunk in the barracks during the few fitful hours of sleep he'd first gotten upon their arrival, but neither of his Elan advisors would have him doing that again once they'd heard the tale. It was unseemly, they told him. Beneath his position. It simply would not do to have one entrusted with so much quartered in such a dismal place. So Roberta had placed him here, high up in the west wing of the tower, in a bedroom he was fairly convinced would have fit his entire suburban home with spare room for the shed in the yard.
Silver and Cayden's experiments had continued well into the mid-afternoon. When they finally did halt, it was a matter of exhaustion, both for the units under their control and for the players themselves. Neither had gotten much sleep in the few hours before dawn, and excitement over the artifact at their fingertips could only keep the pair going for so long. Michael had bowed out after only an hour of study, and eventually, the same exhaustion weighed so heavily that any further experimentation would have been counter-productive.
A nap was in order.
"Ugh... what time is it?" Cayden mumbled to himself as he half rolled, half crawled to the edge of the bed. He fumbled first for his mirror, then the glasses that lay beside it. Just after nine, his alarm had been going off for several minutes at him already. He must have been more tired than he thought. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late.
As if on cue, a soft rapping noise sounded at his door.
"I'm awake!" He grumbled the same mantra he had used countless times to lie to his mother over the years. In truth, he wasn't sure his current state as a bleary-eyed, shambling mess of a human being actually qualified as being awake.
Again the knock sounded, and he took just a moment to bury his face in a pillow before at last letting his feet suffer the abuse of the cold stone floor.
The oppressive darkness of the chamber disappeared at a word from Cayden, albeit a Runic word that sent a wheel of flame spinning about the room. It lit the wick of candle upon candle, forcing Cayden to squint against the sudden brightness that threatened to overwhelm him. "Just a second. Let me get some damn clothes on!"
Cayden donned his AR glasses, followed by the form-fitting haptic gloves that allowed him to interface with the device. Once both gloves were snug around his fingers, Cayden snapped them to bring his display to life. A small bounty of new messages awaited his attention, but those had to wait as he stepped from bed, navigating into his inventory with one hand as he wiped the remnants of sleep from the corner of one eye with the other. Clothes. He needed clothes.
The fabric materialized onto his frame as his bare feet padded across smooth stone, then the thick bear rug closer to the door. One perk that he had to give Babel, he'd never have to do laundry again, so long as he stayed. Each time the outfit was withdrawn from his inventory, it spawned as though brand new. No wrinkles, no stains or imperfections marred the tunic and leathers he'd chosen. He'd ripped this outfit at least once or twice during his adventures, but the damage never lingered. It had even sized down with him as steady exercise, and a more sensible diet had cut away some of the pounds he'd earned in a sedentary life of video gaming.
"Oh for crying - ! I said I'm coming!" Cayden half shouted at the door as the knock sounded again and he finally yanked it open.
"Good morning!" Celia said, the slim blonde's body doing a terrible job of hiding the silverware-laden cart she had with her. He raised a bemused eyebrow at her choice of words, but she wasn't having any of it. "Took you long enough."
"Did you not hear me yelling?" Cayden shot back, only to see her expression darken with uncertainty. "Or is this room..." He abruptly shut the door, shouting at the top of his lungs, then opened it again.
"Yeah, soundproof, I think." She finished for him. "Are you going to invite me in? Or?"
There was something about the wording of the question that made him blush, and not just the fact that Celia was looking particularly pretty. Adventuring didn't often lend itself to the sort of runway model looks that adorned the covers of thousands of books and videogames. If they were lucky enough to get back to the Dizzy Sheep, Celia was often straight to bed after dinner and dressed for the road by the time he woke and if they spent their night in the wild she rarely ever ditched the heavy mage robes at all. Just seeing her with her hair down was a rarity, to say nothing of the flowing purple dress that hugged an hourglass figure.
Cayden pretended to consider the question, largely to buy time to compose himself. "Depends on what you have on that tray, I suppose."
"Oh, go ahead. Just kill all the suspense why don't you?" Celia fumed, pushing past him with the cart in tow.
"I think you did that when you forgot to hide the tray around a corner." He retorted. The door shut behind him as he stepped away from it, following her to a four-person sitting table where she began to unload the dishes. The smell of breakfast foods, hash browns, pancakes, and syrup, wafted up to entice a stomach he hadn't realized was quite so empty.
"Remind me why I do anything nice for you?"
"Honestly? I have no idea." Cayden laughed weakly. "I'm sorry Celia, I'm a jerk when I wake up."
"Really? I hadn't noticed." She smirked, shifting the dishes one by one from the trolley to the table.
It looked delicious. More than that, it looked normal!
One thing Cayden had discovered, even before he first stepped foot inside the tower, was that he should never trust Elan cooking. The tower's denizens looked mostly human, acted mostly human, and were, as he understood it, more or less biologically human, but they had very different taste when it came to food. Bitter foods were among their favorites, and spicy or worse yet, slimy foods had a place at every breakfast table as far as they were concerned. They could be taught to cook regular meals, of course, but dining with an Elan you didn't know was begging for disaster. With unknown Elan military cooks expected to prepare their meals, he'd already resigned himself to a week of survival on trail rations and whatever snacks he had left in his pack. To see such a bounty, it almost brought a tear to his eye.
"Did you...?" Cayden asked despite knowing the answer.
Celia shrugged in response, her expression nonchalant as she took a seat. "I owe you."
"Oh." His head shook as he settled into the seat opposite her. "Celia, if you owe anyone, it is Michael."
"I already have." She explained with a giggle. "Unlike someone, he was up at a reasonable hour."
Considering the playful light that began to dance in Celia's eyes, everything he had wasn't enough.
"Cayden... are you jealous?" Celia asked, a very feminine giggle falling from her lips. "I mean, I'm flattered and all but-"
"I'm not jealous." He said flatly, suddenly more interested in syrup than conversation.
"You are! You totally are." The high school queen bee Celia would have been if not for Babel was in full force now as a smirk played over her lips. "Is it because he's more handsome than you?"
That stung more than he'd like to admit. "Really Celia?"
"Hey, I made you breakfast. I get to tease."
"I saved your life." He retorted.
Celia wiggled a finger in front of him. "Actually, Michael saved my life. You said it yourself." The girl pondered for a moment, before adding. "Okay, maybe not good looks. Level envy?"
"Oh, just eat your pancakes!"
"Yeah, I didn't think that was it." She continued not giving his words a second thought. "Afraid he is going to steal me when all this is over?"
"Could we not?" He half asked, half begged.
"Nope." Celia shook her head vigorously. "Silver had me eating crow for weeks about how you and I met. Let me have this."
Silence reigned at the table for a moment, before Cayden, at last, offered a heavy sigh. "It isn't just you." He held up a hand to forestall any inquiries. "And yes, part of it is you, try not to get a big head about it."
"Too late."
"I just don't like him." Cayden shrugged. "I'm trying not to make a deal out of it, because I know I'm just being petty. I've been like... the guy around our party for a while. Feels weird to have someone else people are admiring and looking to for leadership."
"You think I admire you?" Celia asked slyly.
"Well, you did stalk me for my autograph."
"You go to a dungeon for an autograph onetime..." Celia rolled her eyes, digging into a few bites of the meal before her before she added. "I didn't go through all this effort for him, you know?"
"Hmm?" He cocked his head to one side.
"The breakfast, I mean." She explained. "I said thank you, yeah. He kept me alive, but you kept all of us alive. Don't think that I don't know the difference."
A small smile pulled at his lips, though Cayden was less than pleased with the light blush that crept up along with it.
"Besides, he's DPS, and you are a tank. You're harder to replace." Celia reached across the table, patting him on the cheek with a manicured hand. "And you're not too awful to look at."
***
An hour later, after a breakfast of delicious pastries and merciless teasing, Cayden, at last, made his way down through the winding halls to the strategy room.
"Our fearless leader emerges!" Shifty said, eliciting a small rumble of laughter from both Michael and Silver as the three milled about the edge of the War Frame, with his two Elan advisors trailing off in mid-conversation to give him their full attention.
"Good morning to you too," Cayden replied with a chipperness he did not entirely feel. "Didn't expect to see you up so early Silver."
The mage shrugged but made no effort to disguise the smugness of her smirk as she taunted him. "I woke up around the same time you did. I just didn't have a breakfast date."
Beside him, Celia's neck began to adopt a rosy hue, but Cayden kept on without blinking. "Understandable. When was the last time you had a date?"
The harsh clearing of a throat interrupted any further banter, all eyes drawn to Valserys as the prim-proper soldier did his best to conceal the particular disdain he had for their back and forth. "Good evening, Field Marshall." He began. "Everyone is here as instructed. Shall we begin?"
"And I thought you were a killjoy," Celia whispered from his side, drawing only an incredulous glance in reply.
"Thank you Valserys," Cayden responded. He then motioned to the War Frame. "Have you explained the functions of the War Frame to those who weren't here this morning?"
"I have, Cayden," Roberta said. "As much as they were interested in it, in any case."
Shifty shrugged. "This sort of thing is what we keep you around for in the first place, isn't it?"
Cayden considered for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose it is. All the same though, can you at least let Valserys instruct you in the basics at some point? Never know when we might be in a situation where I'm not available."
"Sure thing." The older man said unconvincingly.
"Field Marshall, a few small matters require your attention, before we begin?" Roberta added, sensing an opportunity.
"I suspected as much. Let's sort them quickly."
As both Cayden and Silver had surmised, the day was indeed separated into three turns. The first began sometime after dawn, the second just after noon, and the third in the late afternoon a few hours before dusk. It had taken some digging, but they had discovered a timer function that could be activated on the Frame itself and, perhaps more crucially, a turn order function.
The way it currently stood, each portion of the day was divided into three parts. Monster, Player, Warden. Any local monsters large enough to qualify as settlements acted first on each turn, with roughly an hour devoted to them. Next came Cayden's turn, which lasted approximately two and a half hours. After that, the Wardens acted for an equal amount. The whole thing repeated itself twice more, then night fell, and no one acted until the following morning.
There were still a few hiccups in his understanding. If the other players were using War Frames, or devices similar to War Frames, then they either shared a turn with him or for some reason were not included on the current turn order. He'd have to get in touch with the others to be sure, but until he was, he didn't dare touch the end turn button, for fear it might negatively impact their plans. And that was currently his best-case scenario.
The only other alternative he had worked out with Silver was that the turn order only took into account, nearby groups. If his faction was far enough away from Islo that his troops wouldn't be able to interact with theirs during a turn, then why include them? It made sense, but the suggestion was troubling all the same. If it was true, that meant there were Warden troops within striking range of Bastion itself.
"Per your orders, I withdrew magical energy from the city's reserve to empower my casting. This allowed us to complete the Lower Township and Keep repairs, as you can see here." Roberta motioned to the War Frame, where a pair of golden icons glowed and dimmed for his attention. Cayden touched one, and it formed into a small text box, informing him the Lower Township Repair was complete, something he already knew. The other, the Keep Repair, was more interesting:
Keep Repair Complete
Influence: +5
Food Storage: +50
Field Supply Limit: +100
The Throne Room is now available for audiences.
Something about the way the term audiences struck a chord with the gamer part of Cayden, but the thought had to be pushed aside as Roberta continued. "We should assign new production before the end of the turn, so as not to waste the labor of our craftsmen."
"Perish the thought." Cayden grinned. "Any suggestions?"
"I wouldn't begin to presume, Field Marshall."
He scoffed. "It isn't a presumption when you are asked, Roberta." Cayden pulled up the War Frame's production menu and touched each of the two new options in turn.
Lower Township Repair
Lower in class as much as location, this district grows the backbone of any fledgling town. (2/6)
Cost: 40 Production
Civilian Housing: +500
Production: +2
Keep Repair
Preliminary repairs of the keep are now underway. (2/6)
Cost: 20 Production
Influence: +10
Food Storage: +50
&nb
sp; Field Supply Limit: +50
Additional areas of the Keep will become accessible.
"Indeed." She replied, studying the new options in turn. "Further repair of the Lower Township would be in keeping with your original goal of favoring production. It would also put us that much closer to having sufficient housing for the thousand Elan population you desired."
"My thoughts exactly," Cayden said. Despite the confidence in his words, a frown did still cross his face. "I would also like to get at least the outer walls repaired sooner rather than later, however. If the Wardens are closer than we think, we'd be better off having a defense than not."
"I do not necessarily think repairing the walls would be wise at this juncture, Field Marshall." The uncharacteristic interjection from Valserys was enough to raise eyebrows on both Elan and Human, the two turning to regard him as he continued his thought. "We know the location of the primary tomb, suggesting that any local forces would be comparatively weak. If they are not, minor repairs to our wall will be pointless. If they are, then prioritizing repairs with an upkeep cost would be doubly wasteful.
A moment of staggered silence followed the appraisal, with Roberta being the first to speak. "He raises some significant points."
"That he does." Cayden smiled. He gave the other man a nod of approval, then continued. "We will continue our focus on the Lower Township for the time being." Cayden tapped his orders into the War Frame as he spoke. There was no need to give the instructions verbally, but it felt right to do so all the same. "Sixteen production per turn should leave us with eight left over on the third turn. Let's devote that to repair of the keep."
"Something in mind, Cayden?" Roberta asked.
He shook his head. "Call it a hunch that the additional areas will be more beneficial than the Influence boosts let on."
"As you will." She agreed. "If you will excuse me, I'd best attend to my task before the turn end."