The Merchant of Tiqpa: The Bathrobe Knight's Sequel

by Charles Dean

  “So you think that we can just wear their armbands and get past their guards?” Reginald asked. “Just like that?”

  “Yeah, that’s the game plan,” Tubal said, nodding thoughtfully. “The only problem is that we don’t have any idea where their main building is or where their leaders will be.”

  “Well, what about the X’s on the city map?” Reginald asked. “If they’re doing this type of operation, those tunnels they’ve been making would have to be in buildings that they control, right? All we need to do is find the highest density of those, and that’s where their command is likely going to be, even if it isn’t where their main building is.

  Tubal’s eyes shot open in surprise. “That’s . . . That’s really not a bad idea.”

  Everyone watched as Locke quickly pulled the map out and opened it up on the table they had been standing on earlier.

  “Psh, and you call me the idiot.” Reginald slapped Tubal’s back and had a laugh of his own. “You’re always hating, Tubal. Always hatin’.”

  “Sparky, hand out the insignias, and let’s get moving as quickly possible.” Tubal pointed at a clear concentration of X’s, indicating where they would be headed.

  “You really should have slammed an arrow on the spot,” Sampson teased. “It would have given that extra dramatic effect to the order.”

  “Oh. Okay. Hold on.” Tubal pulled out an arrow, and then after a few seconds, he slammed the arrow into the middle of the densest concentration of X’s on the map. With his deepest and most commanding voice, he said, “Time is not on our side, men. We must move now before the enemy can seize the initiative!”

  “Yep, that was much better,” Sampson said approvingly.

  “But now you owe me a map,” Locke said, patting Tubal’s shoulder. “It was really expensive to get,” he added, recalling how many health potions and poisons he had lost during the little skirmish with Red-Dragon underneath the city.

  “Wai-- Wait.” Tubal’s eyes went wide. “We’re in the same guild. You shouldn’t charge me!”

  “Brother, to shirk your duties as an honorable citizen and abuse your power to escape paying your debts . . .” Sparky shook her head disapprovingly at Tubal. “It pains me to see this from my own flesh and blood on whom I spent so much great care to raise as an honorable and just man.”

  “We’ll just consider it your guild initiation fee,” Tubal said as he continued trying to weasel his way out of the debt and avoid having to pay anything.

  “I’m so sorry that you have to see your brother act like this,” Sampson said sympathetically as she turned to look at Sparky. “It’s just detestable to watch, and we’re only friends.”

  Tubal stared at the group silently for a moment before he said, “Let’s just deal with this later. We need to get going.”

  “Yeah, before my precious, expensive and beautiful map falls apart.” Locke made sure to exaggerate his efforts to preserve the map from any more tears or holes as he removed the arrow. He deliberately took his time as he carefully folded it back up before tsk-tsking at it and placing the map back in his inventory, leaving Tubal clearly distraught.

  “It’s okay, Shy. Let’s go before he destroys any more of your property,” Sampson said comfortingly to Locke as the two of them headed out of the tavern with the White-Wing insignias ready to be equipped.

  -----

  Despite the fact that most of the other players had already made their way out of the tavern and into the streets, Locke couldn’t shake the feeling he was doing something wrong and about to be caught for it. They were, more or less, sneaking out of the Wench’s Best Bubbly Head with intentions of assassinating the White-Wing leadership and thwarting the Holy Alliance’s plan to formally occupy the city, and something about the covert nature of their mission stuck with him and kept his nerves a bit rattled. He felt like the guy in an office who insisted on telling inappropriate jokes and kept checking over his shoulder to see if there was anyone around who might hear him. It honestly felt more than a little awkward to Locke, who was more comfortable staying in the backlines and crafting. Thrusting himself into the thick of a political mess was a wholly-new experience, but there was nothing he could do to help his nerves now.

  It wasn’t until their group came in sight of the spot where the large batch of X’s were concentrated on the map, and they saw their target, that he knew they had waited long enough.

  Locke held up his hand to get everyone's attention and did his best to keep his voice low so that only they could hear him. “There’s a chance that we will have to kill a few of the players that are working with them, so we should be prepared for that. Otherwise, we need do everything we can to avoid being recognized until we get there. The last thing we want is someone ringing the alarm bell before we ever make it inside. We should probably go ahead and disguise ourselves now as well.” He stopped the group and grabbed Tubal and Reginald, dragging them with him as he ducked around a building for cover, and everyone else quickly followed behind.

  “Alright, Eliza, do you know how to do this? To use the ink to change the color of your eyes?” Locke asked as he equipped his pilfered White-Wing insignia and motioned for everyone else to do the same.

  “Yeah, it explained it,” she responded softly. Her normal confidence and bluster were missing, and she had a quizzical expression on her face as she stared down at the vial of the Ink of the Color Shifter that they had gotten from the Mohawktopus quest. “Something . . . something explained it.”

  She’s probably never gotten a prompt from Tiqpa in her whole life. That must have been one heck of a shock if it actually gave her one. I don’t think NPCs never use special items from looted dungeons normally, so maybe something went wonky with the in-game prompt system when we gave her a vial. I mean, NPCs don’t have inventories, they don’t get prompts, and they can’t level up their skills like we can. They level up naturally, right? I think? Do they level up? However they work, I bet we did something to mess up the normal order. Locke wasn’t a hundred percent sure she had received a message from the game, but judging from Eliza’s confuddled expression, it was clear that she was a little disconcerted and had encountered a phenomenon she didn’t understand. That uncertainty was something Locke didn’t think he’d ever see from the fierce and graceful fighter. Locke had been so excited over finally beating the boss and getting the item--especially after the struggle with the Holy Alliance that had almost left him and everyone else dead, and then Eliza’s sudden appearance creating palpable tension with the group that had been thick enough to cut with a knife--that he had completely neglected paying attention to Eliza’s expressions when they passed out the boss loot. In general, though, Locke hadn’t caught much emotion from her, if any at all, and if she had shown any real feeling aside from cold fury, had ever been flabbergasted or elated, he hadn’t noticed.

  “Okay, well, switch over now. Pick any color you want, but if you go in with red eyes, they’re going to spot you immediately,” Locke told her.

  She hesitated, and her expression fell a bit. It wasn’t sour, just sagging and defeated. Locke couldn’t believe it, but he was certain that her eyes were even a bit misty. “I understand,” she said, but she didn’t move to do anything. She just stared at the vial resting in the palm of her hand.

  “Wait, do we have anything to cover up her hair too?”

  “All we really need is a hat, but she’ll probably need something besides a bathrobe, too,” Sampson said. She pulled out a scarf that would allow her to bun up Eliza’s hair and make its stark black nature much less noticeable.

  “That’s not a problem. I have plenty of women’s clothing,” Sparky said, eliciting a few gasps of surprise from the rest of the group.

  “B-but your avatar is male,” Locke sputtered out, watching in wonder as Sparky produced several different clothing options from her inventory. Each was more ‘pretty’ or ‘cute’ than practical, in any sense of the word, especially for combat purposes. Eliza, who was already looking down and
depressed as she stared at the vial of ink for her iris change, gasped in surprise as she watched the dresses appear as if from nowhere.

  “Shy, don’t be such a philistine. The greatest actors of Shakespeare's day were all men, even those who played the women’s parts. Don’t tell me you’ve thrown away all reverence for the great and noble traditions of the renaissance? Should a man be limited to only one roll in life? I am one who shall never abandon the traditions of art, chivalry, nobility or honor to join in the crass, unsophisticated mockery of another’s culture,” Sparky proclaimed and lifted her head up high.

  So, basically, you picked a guy to avoid being hit on while playing a noble knight, but you still like nice things and pretty dresses? Locke couldn’t find too much fault in that. He used to be the same way before years of miserliness beat the habit of liking nice slacks and shirts out of him. Also, given Reginald’s insistence on loving shoes earlier, there was at least one other avid shopper in the group. That said, Locke couldn’t help himself as he offered a slight, poorly-thought-out rebuttal. “But what if the other person’s culture is to mock that behavior?”

  Sparky didn’t even lower her head an inch. “Then that culture doesn’t matter,” she responded quickly, and Locke could almost hear her tongue sticking out as she did so.

  “This one.” Eliza pointed at a yellow sundress, and Sparky handed it to her. Then everyone just stood there. “Well?”

  Locke and the others looked at her as they stayed hidden in the dark alley.

  “You want me to change, right?” Eliza looked at them.

  Oh . . . yeah! She can’t change her outfit via the inventory selection menus like we can! Locke realized the error and quickly turned to leave the alley, ushering everyone else out with him.

  “So you, as a girl, like to play a guy who dresses up as a girl.” Reginald couldn’t even finish getting the words out or start laughing at his own joke before Sampson’s quick smack popped him on the back of his head. “Ouch, hey! I was just asking a question!”

  “We told you not to mention people’s real life,” Sampson scolded him.

  “But Shy already knows Sparky is a girl,” he protested, only to be struck again, this time by Sparky.

  “He’s very slow at learning. His chances of finishing college are low,” Tubal laughed.

  “I’m going to have to find a less abusive group one day.” Reginald rubbed the spot on the back of his head, his face caught between a smile and a grimace as he feigned being upset.

  “No, you won't. We’re the only ones who can appreciate you.” Tubal put an arm around Reginald's shoulder. “And we all know your deep, dark secret, which we’ll be sure to spread all around the Internet if you ever leave.” Tubal’s grin was more mischievous and wicked than any Locke had ever seen from him before.

  Reginald’s usual goat-like Satyr face, which was almost always laughing or chuckling at something, looked like he had just had a bucket of white paint dumped over the top of his head as he turned pale from Tubal’s threat. “You . . . You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, I’m not good at daring. It’s more threatening that I specialize in.” Tubal let out another laugh at Reginald’s expense before turning around. “Ah, it seems the lady is ready to head out.”

  “Yes,” Eliza answered as she came out from around the corner in a yellow dress with bright, stunning blue eyes. She just looked simply lovely by Tiqpa terms, a bright sunflower standing out in a barren field as she came into view.

  “Wow.” The words slipped out of Locke’s mouth before his brain could stop them. “You have good taste. That looks great on you.”

  “Thank you,” Sparky butted in, accepting the compliment that had been addressed to Eliza. It was Sparky’s dress, after all.

  “He liked the color yellow,” Eliza said softly, her eyes visibly watery now.

  “Um . . . yeah . . . well, in that case, let’s get going. We don’t want to lose our opportunity. Oh, and Eliza, don’t forget to equip your insignia.” Locke immediately felt guilty for somehow prompting Eliza’s recollection of something painful, and he shifted the topic as quickly as he could. He had diverted his gaze away from Eliza as soon as he saw the tears welling up, but when the group began walking, he couldn’t stop himself from stealing one last glance back at her. Something about her tears pained his heart. It reminded him of his sister’s attempt to be ‘tough’ and ‘strong’ when they were at their parents’ funeral. You two are both idiots. He resisted the urge to sigh and resigned himself to putting the whole thing out of his head entirely.

  “So do you think that we’re going to have to identify ourselves when we get there?” Tubal asked Locke as they approached their destination. “Like, maybe they have checkpoints set up or something?” Just as the Fire-Walker that they had encountered underneath the city had suggested, every X that they had come across or passed on their way seemed to represent a different White-Wing garrison. This particular cluster of marks, however, was the home of a large, spiraling staircase that wound its way down from the White-Wing city floating above.

  As if it wasn’t evident enough before, it quickly became clear from just a quick glance up that the White-Wings preferred the skies just as much as the Fire-Walkers did their underground tunnels. The portion of the city that the White-Wings claimed as their own was so high up that Locke was struck with a sense of vertigo just trying to catch a glimpse of it as he cranked his neck backward. He gave up after only a short moment and turned back to the staircase that waited on them ahead. Rather than regaining any sort of assurance, he was immediately struck with the fear of what type of cardio was going to be involved climbing the endlessly winding steps. His legs burned in anticipation of the time they were about to spend on that awful Stairmaster.

  As if the task before them wasn’t enough of a test already, there were several units of White-Wings and Holy Alliance members spread around the bottom of the staircase, and it appeared as if they were preparing to descend down into several holes that they had drilled down to the town’s inner levels.

  Locke looked over his group and took a quick headcount. Including Eliza, they had eight people in all. “Let’s group up in two rows,” he suggested. “Try to walk side by side with someone next to you in a solid formation so that we at least look like we know what we’re doing. I know we’ve never tried moving like this before, so if it looks sloppy, we’ll just have to deal with that, but let’s keep it as clean as we can.” Locke found himself more ‘ordering’ than ‘advising’ as he even pointed Reginald to the back of the second line. “There. That looks a lot better for the moment. Just try to stay right next to your partner. If years of watching con artists on TV has taught me anything, it’s that confidence will easily get us through.”

  “That sounds about right,” Tubal agreed. “Alright, I’ll take the front with you. Sparky, switch with me,” Tubal said as he swapped places with her so that he was right next to Locke. “There we go. Let’s do this.”

  “You sure you don’t want Sparky in front? If a fight breaks out, her shield will be of much better use if she’s already ahead of everyone else,” Locke said, glancing back at the Dragon-Wing.

  “I know he likes dresses, but why do you keep calling Sparky a girl?” Eliza interjected as she smoothed down her own dress. Locke was doing his best not to watch her, but he had noticed that she had a habit of doing that.

  “Because--” Reginald began before being interrupted.

  “We can explain another time,” Sampson interjected. “We need to get going, right, Shy?”

  “Right, right.” Locke nodded his agreement. “Company, forward!” Locke did his best to mimic every drill sergeant in every boot-camp-training montage he had seen, but his knowledge of that stuff was more lacking than his ability to explain to an NPC that Sparky was actually just an avatar of some random girl in an entirely different dimension where people created this universe just to mess with it. Yep, can of worms I never need to open. Locke shook his head as he thought about h
ow Reginald might have just blurted out an explanation without giving any consideration to the game’s strict warning against telling NPCs anything player related.

  Can you just imagine the existential crisis you would have if you realized that the people you hated with a passion were secretly the ones who built your entire universe? Given that we created the world and then started murdering all across the landscape just because we wanted to ‘have a little fun,’ I can’t even begin to imagine that their hatred of us would wane even an inch. Locke felt sorry for any of the NPCs that ever learned the full truth behind the horrid nature of Tiqpa. We wanted to kill people, and we wanted them to be as lifelike as possible while we did it. He almost sighed at the thought, but then remembered that Bianca was somewhere behind him and would likely give him the same pop to the back of the head that they’d been abusing Reginald with. That was the second time he had managed to dodge that particular trap.

  They managed to walk to the base of the giant staircase, which was at least wide enough to accommodate ten people walking shoulder to shoulder, before any of the guards stopped them. They were just about to take their first step onto the staircase and begin their ascent when one of the Holy Alliance members blocked their path with his weapon. A Naga holding a halberd and sporting plate mail on his upper half set himself directly in front of them.

  “What’s your business? Who are you going up to see?” he asked.