“Ooh, I love being drunk on wine,” Flosy said. “It’s a favorite drink of mine!”
“They’re all your favorite drinks,” snapped von Richter. “Here’s a scroll; get us to Falderhall.”
“I don’t know how.” He shrugged. “What do you do?”
Gunther gurgled in frustration, so I quickly stepped in.
“It’s easy, Flosy. Just imagine where you want to go and say ‘portal’ out loud or to yourself.”
Flosy coughed to show his contempt for all of that magicky stuff, but he followed my instructions.
***
A cold sea breeze smacked us in the face, and soon the lead-gray sea with its white-capped waves came into view. It was a majestic picture.
There were bearded and mustachioed men in glistening chainmail and horned helmets meandering to and fro on a huge wharf, around which were a dozen drakkars with colorful sails lowered. I’d always figured that the carved stems weren’t all that big, but I was very wrong. They loomed high overhead to create an imposing view.
It was noisy, but I heard Sven’s familiar voice over the hubbub. “Ah, you’re here. Very good. The jarls were starting to think you’d chickened out or were pulling their leg.”
The warrior was decked out for battle in chainmail, and he came over to hug me. I was happy to see him.
“Hi, Sven. I always keep my word, and besides, I need this more than they do.”
“I don’t know about that.” Sven tugged on his beard. “Olavsson was excited when he heard about your plan. I think he was probably ready to put a price on Torsfel’s head as it was, and then this came up. Oh, there he is now.”
A tall, middle-aged man walked over, and I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his powerfully built body and pale face.
“Are you Jarl Hagen?”
“I am. You’re Gunnar Olavsson?”
He nodded.
“We need to figure out the trophy order. I do have one thing—”
I stopped him there.
“That’s something we should talk about with everyone involved. It’ll be fairer that way.”
I could tell from Gunnar’s nod and Sven’s approving look that I’d started off on the right foot. It looked like I was going to have to stay on my toes with the Sea Kings.
“Hagen. Ha-a-agen!” I heard from the wharf.
I looked around to see Elina waving to me next to a cluster of our clan mates. There wasn’t anybody I recognized…although…No, that can’t be…
“Are those your friends?” asked Gunnar.
“No, more companions,” I said with a dismissive wave. “‘Friends’ is a word you shouldn’t throw around too lightly. But you can’t have too many blades in a battle, right?”
“Sure,” Olavsson nodded. “Let’s head over. Ah, there’s Froky and Short-legged, too.”
The two made for an odd-looking pair on the wharf. One was incredibly fat, his impressive girth held up by two stumpy legs that looked more like pedestals. The second looked incredibly tall and slender standing across from him. I wonder why they call him the Hammer. Obviously, he had to be Froky the Hammer.
“Just a second,” I responded. “Where’s the mailbox around here? Gunther, Flosy, follow me.”
Elina walked up just as I collected the gold she’d sent.
“I told you everything would be all right,” I announced, gesturing toward the local scenery. “There’s the sea, there are the Sea Kings…”
“Good morning, for starters,” she replied with a cold edge to her voice.
“Good morning! Although, given our plans for it, it’ll be good for some and the last for others,” I said as I checked her and her group out.
Not clan elite, but at least they’re all better than Level 80. Ha! I was right.
“Oygolinn, you son of a gun, is that you?” I asked with sincere surprise.
My old friend, one I’d fought my first battles against the undead with, had climbed all the way to Level 77. Compared to Level 49, which I couldn’t seem to get past, he was a beast.
“Yup.” He walked over and shook my hand. “It doesn’t look like you’ve been in much of a hurry.”
“Well, we live forever, so there’s plenty of time.” I nodded to the rest of the group. “Hi, everyone. I hope none of you get seasick?”
“You just think about yourself,” a knight named Lotar responded sourly. He was covered in armor, had an ax resting on his shoulder, and cemented my impression of him by addressing the rest of the group as if I weren’t even there. “Kids these days have no respect.”
Just then, Gunther and a yawning Flosy walked over. The latter, it seemed, couldn’t stay awake when he was sober, and he noticed Elina between yawns.
“Oh, it’s that slut again!” he cried loudly, pointing at her. “Jarl, why is she always following you around?”
“Why is it here?” Elina exclaimed in exasperation.
“They’re with me—my friends. You’ll have to forgive him, he doesn’t mean it,” I replied apologetically.
Gunther nodded to everyone in the group as they tried to figure out what was going on, seeing as how the situation couldn’t have been more unusual. An NPC smelling like a cesspool had just walked up and called their clan leader a slut. And she apparently even knew him.
“Good morning to all of you,” Gunther said pleasantly. “It’s always nice to meet future brothers in arms.”
Nobody responded.
“Laird, this group isn’t nearly as well-behaved as the comrades you had last time,” von Richter whispered to me as loudly as ever.
Lotar had finally had enough. He assumed a heroic pose, one that told us all we needed to know about his feelings for himself, and brandished his battleax. “I hope you’re planning to explain to all of us what’s going on,” he demanded pompously. “I might add that you look like every inch the stupid cow your NPCs are. And if you aren’t, then I’m coming for you.”
“You’re coming for me?” I replied casually. “What does that mean? You’re going to PK me? Go ahead, take your best shot, and we’ll see how that turns out for you. Also, let me remind you all, just in case any of you agree with him, that these aren’t just NPCs. As I mentioned, they’re my friends.”
“Don’t think he’s alone,” a mage chimed in as she readied her staff for action. Everyone else tensed and reached for their weapons. Even Oygolinn joined them with a fluid and practiced motion.
Gunther’s sword rang as it flew out of his sheath and he took up a position to my left. Flosy, muttering something about half-crazed whores and just as half-crazed canned idiots, pulled out his ax and covered my right flank. My hand made its way to my pocket, where it fingered the horn. Screw them. The clan has been getting on nerves for a long time. I’ll be blacklisted, but whatever. I’ve only come across someone from the clan accidentally once, so I think I’ll live. And those two were good guys, it so happens…
“Well, hello!” I heard Sven the Herring say. “Olavsson, they're supposed to be leading us, and here they can’t keep their swords off each other.”
Elina finally shook herself out of her stupor. “Are you crazy?” she asked her clan mates, keeping a wary eye on the Sea Kings as they ambled closer to us. “Sheath your swords!”
The group obeyed.
“We have to teach that kid a lesson,” the knight grumbled obstinately. “He went too far.”
Ah, you shouldn’t have said that, my friend. I’ve never been one to let that kind of thing go.
“You’re telling me, bro. The game isn’t what it used to be,” I responded, going over and putting an arm around his tin shoulders. He winced. “You can’t just go traipsing around locations like in the old days. I mean, look at you; you’re dressed the way you should be, and we veterans get that. But all it takes is one noob calling you an ‘iron doofus,’ and from that moment on it’s all anyone ever calls you. You could change your character, but even that wouldn’t give you a second chance.”
The knight fro
ze, Elina’s eyebrows shot up in yet more exasperation, and someone laughed. Whoever it was had something to add. “You know, it’s true! I’ve always said that. Remember how he wrote that slogan on his shield with pink paint? Not the brightest of bulbs.”
Lotar threw my hand off his shoulder and looked about ready to actually start a fight.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” Steel rang out in Elina’s voice.
The knight reluctantly put his ax back on his shoulder.
“Gunther, Flosy, it’s okay,” I quietly told them. “We’ll take care of this Buratinator[7] later.”
“Who?” von Richter, ever curious, quickly asked.
“This wooden clown in the tin suit,” I replied, nodding toward the knight. His teeth were grinding so hard, we all heard them. “Okay, comrades, let’s go talk to the jarls.”
I could tell that I’d already burned any bridges I might have had left in the clan. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure why I’d gone off on Lotar the way I did. I could have just nipped the whole thing in the bud.
I might have jumped him because the whole thing was playing out live for an audience; it might have been the fact that I was tired; or it could have even been the relationship I’d built with Gunther and Flosy. We’d already been through a lot together. One way or another, that’s how it went down, and I didn’t feel the slightest twinge of regret.
Everyone set to be involved in the day’s sea battle finally got together on the wharf near a wooden post. Elina was the only one who joined us from the clan, although the jarls didn’t pay her much attention. Who takes a female negotiator seriously? Everyone introduced themselves (I’d guessed the jarls’ names correctly), and we got down to business. The conversation started with a topic that interested the jarls more than it did us.
“Where’s the money?” Hrolf asked with a cough.
I handed him the sack of gold. “There’s twenty grand there, you can split it yourselves. Are we good?”
“Yes, everything’s paid; we’re happy,” confirmed Hrolf. He glanced into the bag and tested a few coins against his teeth. The Hammer nodded.
“Heard,” said Sven.
“Seconded,” nodded Gunnar. “Shall we discuss the loot?”
“A third for each of us,” Froky said quickly.
“And what about us?” I asked.
“You’re just passengers, so you’re not included,” explained Froky.
“Not so fast,” I protested. “The trip and the girl are separate. Let’s just make it easy; we’re all involved, and we all get an equal share since you wouldn’t be going anywhere if it weren’t for us. Everyone gets a fourth.”
The jarls looked like they were about to disagree, but Gunnar beat them to the punch. “I don’t need a share,” he announced.
We stared at him, waiting for commentary on his decision.
“But Torsfel the Crooked is mine. If you see him, don’t kill him.” His tone ruled out discussion.
“If I understand you correctly,” I responded, “you don’t want any of the loot; you just want their leader. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And what if that spawn of Grímnismál jumps on my ax by himself?” asked Froky. “What then?”
“Then you’ll be my sworn enemy,” Gunnar said with a shrug.
Froky nodded and turned to Hrolf. “We’ll have to tell our men not to take him out in the middle of everything.”
“And how are we going to split everything into thirds?” Elina asked, though the jarls didn’t pay her any more heed than they would a buzzing fly.
“Miss,” whispered Sven, “don’t mind them. The jarls don’t really ever listen to women. Well, except their mothers.”
Elina sighed, clearly frustrated with having to deal with gender discrimination in the game as well.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Hrolf said, pulling a map out of the bag on his waist and spreading it out. We gathered round. “Here’s Forswick. Torsfel will be setting sail around 10 a.m. If Sven’s intel was right, he’ll have two ships.”
“Why two?” asked Sven in surprise. “What happened to the third?”
“He tangled with Frigg Tornear recently near Skag Fjord,” Froky told him, scratching his side. “The Crooked sank one of Frigg’s ships, but the second one, which had Frigg at the helm, did such a number on one of Crooked’s ships that it barely made it back to Forswick. The steering oar is broken along with some other issues. It was an old ship; you know how it is… So, anyway, he’ll have two ships, but they’ll have big hirds, probably 250 swords total.”
“Wow,” replied Sven. “How many do we have?”
“I have 100,” said Froky.
“Eighty,” Hrolf chimed in, tugging on his beard.
“Fifty. I lost half my hird in the last battle, haven’t had time to bring in new recruits,” Gunnar answered darkly.
“I have sixteen warriors,” Elina added. “Four of them are mages.”
The jarls deigned to hear her and indulgently nodded.
“And there are four of us,” I concluded. “So basically it’s one on one.”
“Right. Though we have the advantage of surprise and the extra ship,” said Elina. “It would just help if we could find—”
“We’ll wait here in this throughway,” Froky interrupted, jabbing a finger at the map and cutting Elina off in the process. “He’ll pass it on the port side, and there’s no other way around—the shoals on the sea side are nasty. We’ll crowd in on him there like a girl in a hallway—Gunnar from the back and the two of us from the front. He’ll have nowhere to go.”
I could see from the map that the piece of land Froky was talking about lay between two cliffs jutting out of the sea. It was the perfect spot for an ambush. The only problem was that our forces were even, and the Crooked had hardened warriors under his command…
“Done. Okay, let’s load up.” Hrolf slapped his belly.
“Wait a second,” said Gunnar. “He won’t see your ships since you’ll be hiding behind the island, but what about mine?”
“There’s a small inlet that opens into a cave in the cliff. You can slip in there and wait for him,” answered Froky. “I’ve done it myself.”
“Torsfel doesn’t know about the cave?” asked Sven.
“You wouldn’t know about it if it weren’t for me,” Froky shot back. “I can’t wait to see how Gunnar straightens his ribs. Olavsson, can I come watch?”
“Sure,” Gunnar told him evenly. “You’re all invited. I’ll even have ale and salted nuts for you.”
“Hey, cutie,” Froky said to Elina. “You bring your troops and go with Gunnar since he has more room.”
“I’ll go with you then,” I quickly said to Hrolf.
I had no desire to be stuck making small talk with my clan mates. They were driving me crazy.
“Why’s that?” Elina asked with a smile.
“I’m responsible for this monster,” I replied, nodding toward a snoozing Flosy. “And you can’t stand the sight of him. What’s the point of getting on your nerves?”
Her response surprised me. “I apologize for Lotar. He crossed the line.”
“Oh, whatever, it’s no big deal,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll meet again. I doubt he’s even 18 yet, and probably much younger. Kids that age are all screwed up going through puberty.”
“That’s for sure…” Elina sighed, her thoughts clearly somewhere else.
“Don’t worry about it. He’ll leave me alone once I kill him a few times,” I consoled her.
She laughed. “He’s thirty levels higher than you!”
“Yes, but I’m not alone.” I pointed a finger behind me at von Richter and Flosy.
“Do whatever you want,” Elina said finally, motioning her Thunderbirds toward Gunnar’s drakkar.
“You still haven’t gotten an invitation from the Hounds?” Elina turned back as she walked behind her troops.
“Nope. And whatever, I don’t have time anyway,” I answered.
“Oygolinn,” I said, calling after my former comrade. “Would you have really shot at an old friend?”
“The interests of the clan come first,” the elf replied with an impassive shrug of his shoulders. “What does friendship have to do with it?”
“Fair enough.” I deleted him from my friend list.
Oygolinn read the message, smiled indifferently, and hurried after the rest of the group.
The three of us walked off toward Hrolf’s ship, and ten minutes later, we set sail.
I watched the bank fade into the distance, felt the swell of the drakkar deck beneath my feet, and had to chuckle at the motley crew that was going after the könig’s daughter: pirates, a Knight of the Temple, a mercenary hired by the developers, a few high-level players from one of the game’s top clans, and a toilet cleaner. A veritable Noah’s Ark…
Chapter Twenty
In which the hero does his small part to assure victory.
We’d already put quite a distance between us and the shore when Hrolf smacked himself in the forehead. “Einar!” he bellowed, turning to his gray-mustachioed helmsman, “bear toward Gunnar. I forgot to warn that girl about something.”
The helmsman nodded gravely and swung the wheel in that direction.
“Remind me what her name is?” Hrolf asked me.
“Elina.” I was intrigued. What did he forget to tell her?
“Elina!” the jarl’s bass rang out across the water. “You remember, and also tell your troops, to go easy with the fire. I know you mages. The sea is calm, so you’ll burn us all to a crisp. And you mages will float, but the rest of us won’t.”
“…kay…” echoed back from Elina.
“Did she definitely understand?” Hrolf looked at me anxiously.
“Yes, she’s smart. She got it,” I assured him. “Everything will be fine.”
“I sure hope so.” Hrolf sighed.
The drakkars slipped quickly through the water, the oars rhythmically slapping the waves on either side. They were mesmerizing. Gunther stared thoughtfully at the water as he dragged a whetstone along the slender blade of his misericord[8]; Flosy hummed a slow tune. The whole scene was enough for me to slowly drift off to sleep…
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