by James Hunter
“Please, Jack,” Abby called out as I stepped into the portal, her voice trailing me through the void. “I know you don’t want a war, but you can’t trust Osmark—” The words died as the portal snapped shut behind me.
I stumbled a step or two, then caught myself not feeling any of the typical vertigo or nausea that came with port skips. The one-off spells were great that way: super reliable, accurate, and extremely stable. The only problem was they were prohibitively expensive, costing over a hundred and fifty gold—the equivalent of fifteen hundred dollars—for a single use, and they could only accommodate two or three people, tops, before fizzling. On top of that, they were extremely difficult to manufacture, requiring a specialized skill set and a very rare set of alchemic ingredients.
Still, when this quest was over and done with, I needed to have Vlad see if there was some way to produce them more cheaply. Not having to rely on the Mystica Ordo could be a game changer—not to mention the sheer convenience factor.
I dismissed the thoughts as I turned in a slow circle. The scroll had dumped me in a cozy inn with worn cobblestone floors, white plaster walls, and a double fistful of oak tables flanked by long communal benches. Strangely, though, the inn was silent and empty. No one sat at the tables or loitered by the roaring fire burning merrily along the right-hand wall. The raised wooden stage near the back likewise stood empty, and though there was a long sleek bar—well stocked with heavy barrels of mead—there was no bartender serving up suds.
“Don’t worry,” came a familiar voice, drifting from the upper floor.
I spun, hand automatically landing on my warhammer. A man leaned casually against the wooden railing, a lopsided smirk adorning his face as he regarded me through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He was human—an Imperial, at a glance—with a wiry athletic build, a slightly crooked nose, and shaggy brown hair framing an angular face. Robert Osmark. I knew it was him, both from IRL media coverage and from my brief meeting with him a week ago. He certainly didn’t look much like an emperor or the would-be tin-pot dictator I’d been envisioning.
In fact, he didn’t look like a native of Eldgard at all. I’d come expecting a toga and laurel leaf crown, at the very least. But no. He sported black slacks and a navy turtleneck—simple, plain, and modern. He also didn’t have a weapon, not so much as a dagger.
He smiled, noticing my surprise. “Not all of us enjoy the medieval look. And though my gear may not look like much”—he gestured at his unusual attire—“I can assure you, my clothes will protect me better than the heaviest steel plate mail. Ancient Artifact promotional items, crafted before launch. Just a few of the benefits of being the creator of the world.”
His smile widened a hair as he straightened and slowly made his way down the stairs, his plain black loafers clicking against the wood as he walked. “Thank you for having the courage to come,” he said, stepping onto the cobblestones. “Most men and women, the huddled masses of the world, are controlled by fear—it paralyzes them. Leaves them indecisive, docile, predictable, and constantly searching for comfort and safety. That doesn’t make them bad, of course, it just makes them unspectacularly average.” He uttered that last word with a contemptuous sneer. “Sheeple who need to be guided by a strong, capable hand.”
He smiled and dipped his head, the gesture clear: they need to be guided by a hand like mine.
“Not you, though,” he said after a beat. “You came, despite the danger and potential risk. It’s hard to believe you were an EMT before this, but that is proof of the potential exceptionalism of the human animal. Yet …” He ambled over to a high-backed leather chair near the fire. Leisurely—like a man at an exclusive country club—he sat and leaned back, crossing his legs and tenting his fingers, cataloging every detail about me: My armor. My weapon. The bloodstains marring everything.
“Yet, you also defy someone who is clearly your superior in every way,” he finally continued. “I have more money, more faction members, more allies, and more experience. Yet here you are, working against your best interests, which is such a curious thing. So, tell me why, Jack. Make me understand what would motivate you to walk away from such a generous deal. Why purposely take a road that will lead to your destruction?” He calmly regarded me over the top of his glasses. “For a bright, promising, ingenuitive young man, that seems like a very, very, very stupid move.”
“Because it’s the right thing to do, for one,” I said, shifting uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny.
He snorted, rolled his eyes, and waved my answer away with one hand. “Idealism is for starry-eyed undergrads. From our last chat, I got the impression you were a more pragmatic sort. So, let’s avoid the cliché good verse evil tripe and talk reality. Just level with me. Why do this?”
Instead of answering, I paced for a second, lacing my hands behind my neck as I thought. “Because the deal is dependent entirely on your benevolence,” I blurted. “I don’t want a war, and right now you don’t either—at least that’s what you say—but what if that changes? I don’t think you’re evil, Osmark, but I believe you’ll crush me in a second if it fits into your agenda. I think that’s the kind of man you are. And I want insurance in case you suddenly change your mind. Having all of the Storme Marshes united behind me is that kind of insurance.”
Osmark smiled, a wicked grin, with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “I can respect someone who isn’t shortsighted,” he said, nodding. “Here’s the problem, however. You’re hoping this quest will secure your position of power inside Eldgard, but in fact you’re endangering it. That’s why I invited you here, to Tomestide.” He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Please follow me, and I’ll explain.”
TWENTY-SEVEN:
Hard Choices
Osmark lingered in front of the inn, rocking back and forth on his heels as he stared at the horizon. Tomestide itself was a small and unremarkable town with gray cobblestone streets and a mixture of stone and wood houses. A layover village of maybe five hundred people—the kind of place that probably offered a handful of low-level quests for lowbie players looking to kill low-level rats or gather ingredients for the local blacksmith. Idyllic, beautiful, but not much more than a blip on the map.
But it wasn’t the town Osmark was looking at, it was the rippling sea of campfires and pitched tents in a broad grassy clearing to the south. The lighting wasn’t great—the sun was gone and early evening washed the scene in shades of purple and blue—but with my Night Eye ability, I could see just fine. There must’ve been a thousand tents with a multitude of men and women weaving their way through the camp or huddling around campfires—eating, drinking, joking, tending to gear. It was hard to tell the exact number, but I’d say there were ten thousand troops present.
Maybe more.
But the sheer numbers weren’t the only issue. Oh no. Edging the right side of the camp was a line of battle-ready war mounts: everything from bulky draft horses to sleek pumas and giant ground lizards, fifteen feet long. And on the left were war machines. Heavy ballistae with formidable steel bolts. Hulking mangonel on wooden rollers. Long armed trebuchets, capable of lobbing a boulder a thousand feet or more. Massive battering rams of sculpted stone, etched with runic magic. Colossal siege towers of wood, leather, and cold iron, easily capable of reaching the top of Rowanheath’s outer wall.
“Did you think you were the only one with an Alchemic Weaponeer, Jack?” He asked, still staring at the weapons. “The only one who understood the value of investing in the Merchant and State Craft skill trees? I built this world. I know it better than anyone, except the Overminds, and I have twenty-four factions backing me. Your faction strategy is clever, Jack, but not nearly clever enough. And this move to unify the Storme Marshes? Instead of securing your future, you’re going to destroy it. Destroy everything you’ve worked for and built.”
He glanced at me, a cruel half smile on his lips. “In business, we call that the law of unintended consequences. You see, the Storme Marshes will give you an edge
, but it won’t give you enough of an edge. Not to win. No, no.” He pursed his lips and shook his head ruefully. “It will only give you enough power to be considered a legitimate threat. Before you were a cockroach, too small to bother crushing. Now, however, you’re a rabid dog that needs to be put down.
“So far, I’ve been able to convince my allies and business partners of your value to our Imperial enterprise. I’ve convinced them you’re under my heel. As a result, they’ve been content to throw token forces at you for the sake of appearances. Not anymore. This”—he swept a hand out toward the troops, the mounts, the siege engines—“is the direct response to your actions. The unintended consequences of your ambition and disloyalty.”
He fell silent, waiting for my reply. But I didn’t have one. What could I say?
Instead, I stood there, staring at the impossible force arrayed against me as a warm evening breeze blew through my hair and a soft chorus of crickets chirped and sang. Sophia had told me this is where I’d end up, so none of this should’ve come as a surprise. It still did, though. In my heart, I’d always known the Crimson Alliance was the underdog, but knowing that intellectually and seeing it with my own eyes were vastly different.
“It doesn’t need to be this way, though, Jack,” Osmark said, staring straight ahead as though envisioning the inevitable slaughter to come. “Like I said, you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, a great precipice, but you haven’t jumped. Not yet. Back down. Refuse to complete the quest and things can go back to normal. If not …” He trailed off and shrugged indifferently. “Well, I can have this entire army outside of Rowanheath in ten days. I’ll wipe you out there, then turn south and bulldoze the Storme Marshes all the way to Yunnam. It will be long and painful, but quite thorough.”
I turned away, then, pulling the return scroll Osmark had sent along with his original message from my bag. I broke the seal and unfurled the parchment, triggering the portal with a flare of brilliant light.
Osmark’s hand wrapped around my bicep, his fingers biting down painfully. “Just consider it,” he said. “I do like you, but you’re not irreplaceable. Never forget that.”
I batted his hand away, gave him a thin smile, and stepped through the gateway and directly into my master suite in the Darkshard Keep, my mind weighed down by the difficult decisions ahead of me.
I knew Abby and the others would be in the control room, talking strategy for the upcoming battle against the Sky Maiden, but I couldn’t force myself to join them. Not until I had a real chance to think things through. I stripped—glad to be free from my gore-spattered armor—and beelined for the bathroom, stepping into the shower and turning the hot water on full-tilt. In seconds, a cloud of steam rolled out as scorching water splashed over my face and across my chest, running down in a sheet.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head forward, letting the water run over my neck and cascade down my back, loosening tense, overworked muscles. As I stood there—eyes closed, bathed in delicious heat, listening to the pitter-patter of falling water—I felt like I could finally think. Naturally, my mind turned to Osmark: to his plea for peace and his threat of war. Like any good salesman, he’d given me both the carrot and the stick. Get on board with progress and maybe things would be okay, or rock the boat and risk getting thrown to the sharks.
My gut reaction was to let the Jade Lord quest die—to keep my head down, mind my own business, and leave Osmark alone. I hated conflict by nature, so there was a certain appeal to sticking my head in the sand and ignoring the looming threat Osmark posed. That was the path of least resistance, the path of least conflict. Moreover, I didn’t really want to finish the Jade Lord quest anyway. Not after what had happened beneath Ankara. I could walk away, forget about the whole damned thing, and hope that everything would go back to normal.
But, I couldn’t stop envisioning that colossal army stretched out across the Shining Plains like a plague of locust ready to eat me out of house and home. Honestly, what were the chances he’d assemble an army like that, only to send everyone home without so much as a skirmish? That pushed the border of credibility. No, that army was a loaded revolver with the hammer cocked, and Osmark’s finger was already squeezing the trigger. Maybe he wouldn’t fire tomorrow, next week, or even next month, but he would fire eventually. It was only a matter of time.
Plus, I didn’t trust him.
Maybe he wasn’t evil, but he certainly wasn’t above lying through his teeth to get what he wanted.
He’d told me, straight-faced, his army was the direct result of my actions, but I knew that couldn’t be true. Sure, on its face, it was a convincing argument, but the sheer logistics of it didn’t work. I’d only accepted the Jade Lord quest two days ago, and moving ten thousand people into place over two days was nearly impossible. Not to mention, siege engines took time to build. Maybe he could do it with a crew of highly specialized builders, led by a whole team of Alchemic Weaponeers, but even that seemed suspect. Osmark didn’t have a handful of siege weapons, he had two dozen or more.
No, that would take time. A week or more, easy, and that was with access to unlimited supplies and manpower.
Only one thing made any sense: he’d been building that army for a while. And since I was the only enemy he had at the moment, the logical conclusion was he’d been preparing to attack me all along. To attack the Alliance and wipe us out root and branch. Was it possible he’d never wanted peace? Was it possible he’d been playing me from the get-go, just like Abby had warned? Setting me up so I’d be complacent? So I’d let down my guard? It hurt to think I could be so gullible, but there wasn’t another solution that seemed to fit the evidence.
If that was the case, however, then why tip his hand? Why bring me to Tomestide and let me glimpse his forces?
I stewed on that for a moment as hot water sluiced over me.
The answer hit in a flash: he’d showed me because he was afraid.
If he wanted to wipe out the Alliance and set someone else up as a puppet, it would be much easier if we didn’t have the Storme Marshes standing firm behind us. He showed his hand hoping to make me back down so he could crush the Alliance with ease. It all made sense, it all added up. Suddenly, the anger I’d felt after the battle in the Citadel was back, rampaging through me at Osmark’s deceit. He’d buttered me up with flattery and promises that were too good to be true, and I’d fallen for them.
I’d never wanted any of this—the faction, the burden of responsibility—and as a result, I’d been blind to the truth. All because I didn’t want to embrace my new role in this world.
Well, no more …
I killed the water and stepped into the frigid air, goosebumps breaking out along my skin as I toweled off, slipped on fresh undergarments, and donned my armor. Instead of triggering the internal port feature, I trudged through the Keep and up the never-ending spiral steps to the control room, simmering in my rage and using the extra time to think about what we should do and what I would say to the others. When I finally crested the stairs and shoved my way past the wooden doors standing sentry against intruders, I found the circular room mostly empty.
The usual hustle and bustle was absent—no Dwarves talked mining, no bureaucrats discussed trade earnings, no clansfolk lodged complaints. Instead, Abby, Vlad, Forge, Cutter, Amara, and Chief Kolle sat around the hulking central table, sipping at mugs of potent Western Brew while talking in somber, quiet voices. Despite our victories in the recent past, they looked defeated: faces long, backs slouched, heads bowed. Every eye turned on me as I marched in, and a palpable relief seemed to invade the air as they released a collective sigh.
No one spoke, though. They just stared at me expectantly.
I cleared my throat and dipped my head. “I’ve been an idiot,” I said, feeling the hot edge of anger churn in my gut.
“No, Grim Jack,” the chief said, sympathy flashing across his bluff face. “Much has happened—”
I held up a hand, cutting him short. “I appreciate
that, Chief Kolle. I do. But I have been acting like a gullible idiot. I never should’ve trusted Osmark—I should’ve listened to you all, but I wanted peace so bad I didn’t. Well, that’s finished. Tonight, I visited Tomestide and I saw an Imperial army ten thousand deep, with enough siege equipment to bring down Rowanheath ten times over. And then? Then Osmark gave me an ultimatum: abandon the Jade Lord quest or, in ten days’ time, that army is going to be at the Rowanheath gates.”
Everyone was silent, even more somber than before.
“But that’s when this realization hit me like a baseball bat to the back of the head,” I continued. “This was always his plan. Always. He never wanted what I wanted. He was just biding his time, stringing me along until he was strong enough to roll in here with his troops and his siege weapons and crush us flat. And since I’m being honest, I have to admit he might be able to do just that. That army …” I trailed off, shaking my head. “Well, I don’t know how we’ll win against that. But I’ll tell you this for damned sure—the Empire isn’t going to beat us without one helluva fight. Maybe Osmark will grind us down in the long run, but not before we kick his teeth in for the trouble.”
“But to do that—to have any chance at all,” I said, leaning forward, hands pressed down against the table, “we need to have all six Murk clans at our backs, and I think Osmark knows that. He saw what we did against Rowanheath and he saw what happened to Carrera, and that was with a handful of warriors and a platoon of mercenaries. Imagine what we could do with all six clans and Rowanheath under our belt. I think Osmark’s afraid of us, of what we’re capable of, which is why he made this move. He wants to keep us weak and unprepared for as long as possible, which means we need to complete the Jade Lord quest no matter the cost. It’s about survival and it’s for the greater good of everyone in the Crimson Alliance.”