by Oliver Mayes
Plink.
The four projectiles either pinged off the floor or shlunked into the lid of the chest. Had he opened it from in front, he’d have ended up in exactly the same situation as yesterday. By opening it from the back, the lid had acted as a shield for the two spines that had been shot into his shoulder blades on his first try. Hooray for not getting stabbed. Yet.
He turned and looked up into one of the corners behind him, his body tensing. The Cave Urchins were visible and he was able to get a long look at one. There wasn’t much to see. It was a spiky black mass. Damien wasn’t interested in performing a scientific analysis, he just wanted to make sure it wasn’t about to do something undesirable. Like firing around the chest at random, for instance. He waited, his legs still tensed and ready to pump for the door. After five seconds, the Cave Urchin faded away into the corner of the room, becoming completely invisible again.
He crept his way back in front of the chest and peered inside. At the bottom of the chest lay a bundle of knives, attached to a studded leather cord. He picked it up and inspected his loot.
Throwing Knife Sling
Durability: 20/20
Description: A leather strap that can be attached to your body, allowing quick and easy access to mid-range throwing knives.
Bingpot. Jacko. Who cared? He was saved!
“Yesss!”
Plink.
Damien didn’t have time to jump. He was still in his menu. He started throwing himself flat on the ground, but even the slight delay in thought was too much. He got hit in both shoulders and on either side of his back. His health was at 400/1,180. This seemed familiar. He’d been hit and was no longer in stealth. He hastily closed his menu and scrabbled to his feet.
‘Pli—’
Damien leapt backward, a little further than he’d planned, and the spines shattered into the floor in front of him. He immediately span round and ran for the chamber he’d entered by. The way ahead was still barred and he wouldn’t last long in here. It was his only viable option. Three steps later—
‘Plin—’
In the heat of the moment, Damien had forgotten everything he’d practiced. His steps had been too wide while he was running. He planted both feet on the floor mid-run and leapt right, but leaping further did not make an entirely suitable substitute for leaping on time. Three of the spikes missed, but the one fired from the corner ahead of him struck him straight through the opposite shoulder. 205/1,180. Not good.
Damien stopped moving completely. His stamina was at 45% from overdoing his movements. At this rate he’d run out before he got to the exit, at which point he’d definitely be dead. He’d performed his evasive maneuvers just fine when he was practicing, all he had to do was set aside the mistakes he’d just made and do everything perfectly from this moment onward. No pressure. It was a reaction speed test. All he had to do was wait for the—
‘Pli—’
Damien leaped forward and all four missiles missed. He was down to 35% stamina. He walked slowly toward the doors that led to safety. Stamina was actually replenished while he was walking at a slow pace. Not as much as he was losing, but this way he remained completely balanced and would be able to react in time when the—
‘Pl—’
He jumped forward. Harder this time, because the angle was becoming less forgiving the closer he came to the opening to safety. If he jumped forward from this point on, the two far behind would still hit him. If he jumped sideways from this close to the door, he’d be hit by at least one of the two ahead of him. So much for jumping randomly. He was five jumps from the exit. He stepped forward, trying to keep his feet as close to the ground as p—
‘Pli—’
He jumped sideways, hard. The projectiles had all missed, but he had 19% stamina remaining. His jumps had taken him off to one side. He couldn’t head for the door directly. If he was walking toward the door, he had to pick a different direction to jump in. That was no good. Which was when he realized he could use the predictive nature of these enemies to his advantage. He’d been focusing on making sure he wasn’t predictable, but the urchins were far more predictable than him. He’d been using the jumps to avoid projectiles while he ran toward his objective. He should’ve been doing it the other way round.
He turned on the spot and ran parallel to the doorway. He had to run, but he couldn’t forget to keep his feet close to the floor. The doorway leading to safety was passing him by on the right-hand side. If they didn’t shoot again soon, he’d have used up his stamina running, he’d have passed his target and his ef—
“Plin—”
Damien leapt sideways through the doorway, as fast and as far as his remaining stamina allowed. The Cave Urchins on the far side of the room had been aiming at where his run would’ve taken him half a second later, since they were further away. The Cave Urchins above and on either side of him were shooting almost directly downward, and it was his sideways movement that saved him. He sailed through and tumbled to the floor in the next room, his stamina not even high enough to recover from the fall. He took minor damage when he hit the ground, bringing him embarrassingly close to death. But he was alive.
He was lying prone. If one of the Cave Urchins on the far side could see him through the doorway, this was it. He flipped himself over and crawled on his hands and knees to the wall, then placed his back to it. They hadn’t been able to follow his movement into the first chamber, after all. If they had, he’d definitely be dead. He started laughing, uncontrollably, as the pressure was finally released. He’d done it. It wasn’t nearly as smooth as he’d hoped, and he’d almost ended up dead from hissing his relief at finding out what was in the box, but he hadn’t. He was alive.
His laugh gave way to panting breaths. His stamina wasn’t high enough for that yet. While he waited, he reopened the viewer count in his menu. 40,000 viewers. It was a good thing he’d kept it closed before he’d started. Any distraction at all would’ve spelled the end of him. His viewers had gone for a while without him saying anything, other than the poorly judged “Yesss!” he’d hissed through his teeth. This was a cause for celebration. He raised the Throwing Knife Sling, holding it up for all to see, and said the first thing that came to mind.
“I got it! We’re still in the game! Suck it, Archimonde!”
Lillian checked her menu for the third time. It was 20:23. Andrew was late. While he wasn’t perfect by any means, punctuality was not one of his flaws. Not that she was in any position to make a checklist. She brought up his message box and inquired after him.
Lillian: Hello. I’m ready when you are. I’d rather do this privately, and I’d also rather do it face to face, but if you’re not up to it today we can do it tomorrow. Let me know when you can.
Aetherius: I’ll be there in a minute.
Alright. Finally. If he said he’d be there in a minute, he would be. That gave her a full minute to apply conscious thought to her new surroundings for the first time. Best to front-load the bad part: the dreaded plinth that hinted at how they’d be wasting their evening.
To err is human, this riddle is divine;
Can you do right when others do you wrong?
The line betwixt a cuck and saint is fine,
A king is neither. Thread it, or begone!
Of the four riddles that had been thrown at Lillian, this was by far the most annoying. She’d never been so sure they held the sole purpose of mocking her. The previous three had all been annoying in their own unique ways, and Andrew himself had commented that the last of them was specifically designed to prevent people with her Type A personality traits from clearing it.
She hadn’t thought the one directly after could be any worse, but it had hit her at a personal level exactly when she needed it least. She was literally about to try and do right by Andrew, after he’d done her wrong. Well, she’d done him wrong too, but not intentionally. Not until after he’d done her wrong, anyway. Then she’d turned it on him and done him wrong back again. That didn’t seem mu
ch better.
A thought occurred to her, but she couldn’t decide if it was funny or troublesome. A few moments were all it took for her to extend it to its illogical conclusion and she entered a full-blown panic. What if the course of action she was now committed to turned out to be the solution to the riddle? Andrew had tricked her through the last riddle by using their past to keep their minds off the task at hand. What if she was about to accidentally get them through this one the same way? Doing right when others did her wrong? Would the headset read their brainwaves for this too?
If the way forward opened as a direct result of this, Andrew would think she did it on purpose, to one-up him. That was the opposite of what she wanted to achieve! What she wanted to share with him was sensitive enough already, if doing so accidentally removed their next obstacle...if it solved the riddle...it would be nice to get through this stage, sure...but...
Oh no. She cared more about making things right with Andrew than she did about progressing through the quests. She cared about him. No! Why was this happening? The competition was over. Her involvement with Andrew was over. Damien’s victory had drawn a line through the past so she could focus on the future. She’d moved on. She was happy, fulfilled and focusing on herself now. Even as she thought it out, she knew she was lying to herself.
If everything had improved after she got her own back on Andrew, why had she gone straight back to Rising Tide? She could’ve joined any guild she liked, or stopped playing altogether. Instead she’d worked herself to the bone, trying to restore their combined project to its former glory. Why? She’d even led them on the biggest quest she could think of. Only to find that the player standing in her way, Magnitude, had been Richard all along. She hadn’t left anything behind. She was still in the endless circle, and it had come back for yet another loop.
Lillian wasn’t happy. She’d been trying, but she hadn’t been happy for a long time. She hadn’t been able to pick Andrew up and set things right, so instead she’d torn it all down in the hopes of finding closure. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It hadn’t felt right afterwards, though. Having revisited the picture she’d buried deep in her subconscious and heard what Andrew had to say, she knew it never had been.
“Lillian?”
She span round, shocked and appalled. Andrew was standing right there. How had she not noticed him come in? He’d arrived in a glowing, humming blue ball of light! Oh. She’d zoned out. She really was regressing quickly. The only person more surprised than her, judging by the concerned look she’d received all too often from far too many people over the last two months, was Andrew.
“Sorry I’m late, I was watching—”
She had to tell him now, before he said something to change her mind.
“It doesn’t matter. I need to show you something. Open your chat.”
She went into her own menu, picked out the screenshot and put it into the box. She hovered over it. What if it all went wrong? There was still time to take it back. She could pretend she was sending him something else. Anything else. She only hesitated for a few moments longer before she sent it. Andrew stared at it, nonplussed.
“That’s the Godhammer headquarters.”
“Yes.”
“They appear to be having a party of some kind.”
“No, it was preparation for a party.”
“Right. That’s why there are no people. I’m guessing this was to celebrate taking our waiting room back...they removed the stables I see...and the date is wrong.”
“The date is right. This picture was taken during the competition. Before the stables were built. While it was still occupied by Rising Tide.”
“That makes sense...it also says it was taken at five thirty in the morning? Oooh. I see. You’re behind this. Did...did you use Rising Tide funds for this? Wait, I recognize that banner! They sell them in Camelot for 1,000 gold!”
“Yeah. It was huge. It had to be, to go from one side of the courtyard to the other. I actually bought three of them, because our players kept telling me the wrong sizes.”
“You bought three of them?! They’re a complete waste of money! They serve absolutely no function except for decorative purposes! How did you hide that from me?”
“Don’t worry, I sold the two we didn’t use back. The last one was sold back too, in the end.”
“You’d only get half the gold refunded! That’s 1,500 gold, gone! More if they were customized. I guess they had to be customized, if they were that big, and you bought them all for nothing! What about the stage? What was that for?”
Lillian was doing her absolute best to stay calm. She didn’t want to hurl this in Andrew’s face. It would already hurt without throwing it at him. He’d realize it himself, soon enough, if she just kept answering his questions.
“That’s where everyone was going to dance, have duels for betting on the outcome with guild-issued prizes for the winners, then gather for the group photo at the end of the night. I had it all figured out.”
“Yeah, I can see that. And you managed all this behind my back! You took prizes out of guild storage for this, without telling me? I knew I should’ve turned off your vault permissions sooner, but I never thought you’d screw me like this! How much was the stage? I didn’t even know that was available for purchase.”
“It cost nothing but time and energy. I can’t take the credit for it. I had some of our artisans construct the pieces, then one night they put it all together and took the screenshot so I could see. It was deconstructed before morning. I didn’t want you to know about it.”
“This is how you were garnering support while I was offline? Organizing guild parties in the early hours of the morning? No wonder everyone was so eager to do night duty!”
Oh, come on. He was still angry. If he was thinking straight, he’d have figured it out by now. She had to be patient. He deserved it, even if it didn’t feel like it just at that moment.
“I didn’t take anything out of the vault. It was all from me, and the players. I organized all of it and threw down all the money I had, but I could barely cover a fifth of the costs myself. I accepted donations from our guild members for the rest.”
“So while I slept, you and the rest of Rising Tide were having group-funded dance parties and dueling events? No wonder they liked you more than me!”
“No. Andrew. I was planning for just one party that never happened.”
Andrew’s eyes widened in understanding.
“I see. Finally, it all makes sense.”
Lillian breathed a sigh of relief, glad she’d managed against all odds to let Andrew down gently. It was only as he kept talking that she realized her relief had been premature. Andrew’s tunnel vision had taken him as far from the truth as he could possibly get.
“This was the celebration party for after you took over Rising Tide. Now I know why Richard made the prank so severe; he stopped it from happening at the last possible moment. Why are you rubbing it in my—”
This was as far as Lillian could go. She blurted out the reality, before Andrew could dig any deeper.
“The party was to celebrate you winning the competition.”
She’d done her best. As usual, it hadn’t been good enough. She watched the realization settle in over his face. She watched his anger twist and writhe, fighting to remain present in its death throes. He was halfway done when she started to speak, her words forced and low so her voice did not break.
“I told you I was going back to work, and I did. But I changed my schedule. I woke up every day at 3am. Waited for you to go to sleep. Logged in. Found out about current affairs in the guild from the night watch. Organized the night watch schedule, so anyone who needed a severe talking to could explain themselves to me in person. Vetted new players. Kicked out players who were giving you trouble. Went questing, to keep my level as close to yours as I could and earn gold to pay for your celebration party. Double-checked your accounting, which never took very long: you’ve always been better a
t it than me. Instructed our highest-ranking players to take pressure off you wherever I judged it was most needed. Provided advice for them to feed you over the course of the day. Focusing on the cultist questline was my idea, to improve Rising Tide’s standing with the Empire, solidify your position and keep you in the public eye with minimal risk. At 8am, I logged off and got ready for work. I worked all day. Then I went home and slept at 8pm, so I could do it all again the next morning. I did this for the whole final month of the competition. Right up until you enacted Richard’s ‘prank’ in my hospital.”
Andrew wasn’t looking at her anymore, but Lillian forced herself to look at him. This was her fault. She thought she’d been so clever. She thought she could do all this without him noticing, to let him think he was entirely responsible for his own success. The celebration party would’ve been more difficult to sell as a spontaneous event, with all the planning it had required. Given the stress he’d been under, it was the very least he’d deserved. He’d still deserved it after she’d decided to turn against him. She just hadn’t seen it.
“This is my fault. I didn’t want you to know I was still there. I wanted you to think you’d done it all by yourself, so you’d regain your confidence and go back to the way you were before we started playing. I couldn’t tell you that you weren’t good enough, because it wasn’t fair. You are good enough. But no one can run a guild that big by themselves. I thought I could do this behind your back, to boost you up. I didn’t know there was more going on under the surface. Please, forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
So much for her voice not cracking. Andrew had turned away from her. Lillian was grateful. She didn’t want him to see her like this, either. They stood there, in silence, for about a minute. Then, without a word, the blue Logout Sphere appeared around him for ten seconds more. Lillian stood there in silence until he was gone. He hadn’t shouted at her. Was that good? She didn’t even know. He’d come back when he was ready, and then she’d know for sure. She hoped he would come back. She was loath to admit it, but she needed his help.