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Authors: P. Aaron Potter

Massively Multiplayer (6 page)

BOOK: Massively Multiplayer
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Worse, he'd be away from the minstrel for only a few seconds. His body would be carried back to his room upstairs for reconstitution, and he'd re-enter the game right back where he started – only this time he'd be weaker, and unarmed. MadHarp could simply wait at the bottom of the stairs, killing him over and over again, until he agreed to accompany the minstrel assassin to Gil's.

And even if the guards arrived on time, or if, by some miracle, he managed to dispatch MadHarp, that would hardly be the end of it. Some people, when you killed them, considered that the end of the affair. MadHarp was the other kind. He carried grudges. He'd come seeking Druin out again, and he wouldn't just be following Gil's orders this time. He'd make it personal, and he probably wouldn’t stop killing him until Druin was back to being a first-circle thief. If then. Druin's options were limited, and all of them seemed bad.

"Right, okay, I'm going. But this better be worth it." The protest sounded feeble even to his ears.

"Outstanding!" the minstrel laughed more loudly. "See, I knew you were smart."

Wonderful, Druin thought morosely, that makes one of us.

 

The hill above the port of Bitter Edge was encircled by a low stone wall, pierced in three places by brass gates. Unlike the defensive walls which circled the town below, these inner defenses were more symbolic than effective. An experienced thief like Druin could have scaled them without effort. But the symbolism was significant. Up-Hill was the location of the powerful guild-towers. It was also the abode of the wealthy and the powerful, those Adventurers of the tenth circle and above who had accumulated enough gold to purchase a piece of permanent property instead of merely renting a room in one of the town's half-dozen inns.

Those who managed to gain such a foothold tended to be cautious, jealously aware that their situation was a precarious one, and that any drop below the necessary rank or wealth would send them back out into the ranks of the more commonplace Adventurers.

The house of Gil de Wraithmorte was small by Up-Hill standards, which was only to say that it was more a mansion than a palace, lacking an outer curtain wall or courtyard. The walls were of unadorned sandstone, dull next to the marble columns of some of the other houses, or the polished obsidian which made up the towers of the Binders' Guild. But the Binders were mages, and thus devoted to flashy appearances. Gil’s place was massive, but practical.

And, like most noble houses, the place was positively crawling with guards, faceless hulks whose intimidating appearance was scarcely brightened by the blood-red tabards worn over their dull gray armor.

"You like?" MadHarp asked as they passed unchallenged through the open front gate. He gestured to indicate the flat beige walls, the guards, the view of the city and the harbor, the upscale neighborhood.

"Sure, great," Druin agreed, less than heartily. He was bothered by the fact that MadHarp hadn't bothered to disarm him before entering the house. That indicated that he wasn't even being considered as a potential threat, a bad sign when dealing with the paranoid Gil and his minions. "What is Gil now, anyway? Has he reached twelfth circle yet?"

"Fourteenth," MadHarp countered mildly.

"No way! He was just tenth during the Swamp Trek. Nobody rises that fast!"

"Gil did," Mad-Harp corrected him, "and he hasn't even been out much on the quest circuit. Once you break tenth level, it becomes self-defeating. He's very slick. He's something of a broker these days. He fronts a lot of quests with equipment in return for a percentage of the gold. It's all training for the Heptarchy after tenth circle." He gave Druin another of his appraising looks, which Druin was getting tired of. "You should start thinking about this stuff, you know, sixth circle and all. He could teach you how the system works."

"Thanks, but no. In the first place I play straight." Druin held up a hand to forestall the minstrel's objection. "I'm not saying Gil's hacking the system, and it doesn't matter to me if he is. I just like the questing, straight up. If and when I break into the tenth circle, I don't want to get caught up in all the politics of the noble houses. And in the second place, even if he gets a slice of all the gold from these adventurers he finances, he'll never get the stats to become a Blade unless he goes out and gets muddy with the rest of us."

MadHarp looked honestly surprised. "Dru', I didn't think you cared! Not that Gil does. Why would he want to become some pumped-up gladiator when he could get some real power as a Heptarch, ruling one of the continents? Or even a Catalyst. That's the point of the game, you know, get noticed by the designers and get a job in RL, playing games all day."

Druin shook his head. "I don't think so. Besides, why would you want a job working on a game you didn't like enough to keep playing once you could afford not to?"

MadHarp shut his mouth and looked perplexed. The thought obviously hadn't occurred to him before.

"Besides," Druin continued, "I notice you haven't given up questing for politics...even if all your quests
are
dirty work for Gil."

MadHarp smirked, back on familiar territory. "Ah, but that's where we're alike. I like getting my hands dirty. And besides, unlike most of the under-age llamas who play this game, I already have a job."

They had reached a tall doorway of wood with enormous bronze hinges, which MadHarp opened.

"It's a null statement anyway,” Druin muttered. “Gil hates my guts."

Before MadHarp cuold answer that, a new voice interrupted: "If that were true, Druin, then you'd be dead."

The speaker was seated behind a massive desk, in a chair so covered with gilt scrollwork that it might just as well have been called a throne. He was a massive man, made more imposing by thick blonde hair and honest-to-goodness muttonchops. His prominent belly was covered by a cuirass of the same blood-red color as the guards' tabards. He had been wearing it the last time Druin had seen him, during the Great Swamp Trek, and had joked that the color made it harder for bloodstains to ruin his clothing. As they entered what looked like a study, Gil shut a wooden box which he had been perusing, and pushed back his chair. As he came around the desk, Druin noticed that he was wearing a broadsword. The sword was currently sheathed. A good sign.

"Thanks for coming," Gil said, sticking out a hand.

Druin contemplated it, then shook reluctantly. "It wasn't like I had a lot of choice."

Gil grinned. "Yeah, Harp's persuasive that way. But I was afraid if I didn't send someone persuasive, you wouldn't come."

"You were right. And as a matter of fact, I've still got an appointment to keep...so what is it you wanted?"

Gil's eyes narrowed under bushy blonde brows. "Don't get snotty with me, lamer. I'm doing you a favor."

"And what's that?"

"Straight to the point. Refreshing. Particularly from you." Gil's smile was confident again. "I'm offering you a job. I need someone to check out a new quest area for me. Harp probably told you that I've been backing little squidges like you. A lot of people who make it to tenth circle and move Up-Hill do it. We help first-circle newbies, find quests, outfit them, give them some guidance on their first few adventures, and get a cut of gold and experience. It’s easy work -- mostly you can just send them into the North Wood, the Gobling Mines, you know, nearby places. The problem is that the area around town is already too crowded. I sent a bunch of newbies, fresh blood, to clean out an abandoned fortress. Supposed to be haunted. They didn’t find any ghosts though. They found Mim had already sent a party to the same place. There was some...disagreement about who had salvage rights.”

“Any survivors?”

“Ha ha. There's been almost as much fighting over who gets to fight the monsters as there has been of fighting the monsters themselves."

"Sounds like the type of thing you'd approve of. Competition and all that."

Gil scowled. "Stuff it, llama. It's bad business, and I can't afford it. But worse than that, it hurts the game. Yeah, I know you don't think I give a damn about that, but you're wrong. When a bunch of newbies spend their first few quests getting knifed by other adventurers, they quit, and no new players means the game dies. Or else they go player-killing themselves. And then nobody’s happy.”

MadHarp raised his hand like an eager student.

“Yeah, alright, so people like MadHarp here are happy -- but nobody else is. So think about that when I make my offer. I don't want to see the game turn into a PK free-for-all any more than you do."

Druin nodded, a touch guilty. He had been thinking that Gil valued money and power over everything else. Of course, just because Gil could read that thought in Druin's eyes didn’t necessarily mean it wasn't true.

Gil gestured at the carved wooden box on the desk, the one whose contents he had been studying so intently when Druin entered the room. "I've been using a seerstone to check out the area around here for new quest locations, but all it can tell me is general activity. So I've been sending out experienced adventurers to check them out."

"And that's where I come in?"

"Precisely." Gil smiled broadly. "You just have to sneak up to the place, check it out, assess the threat level, what type of monsters, traps, and treasures there are. You don't actually have to fight any of the monsters yourself, or go too deeply into the area, just scope it out and report the general conditions. That will tell me what type of adventurers I should send in there, warriors, thieves, mages, whatever, and what circle they need to be to survive. I get a new quest to send people on, newbie adventurers get some guidance and experience, and you get paid, gold on delivery, for minimal risk. Everybody wins."

He rocked back on his heels, obviously pleased with himself. But Druin had Wisefellow's cautions in mind, and some unanswered questions were nagging at him.

"Where is this new quest you've been investigating?"

Gil shook his had. "I can't tell you until you agree to the job. You might sell it to Mim or one of the other patrons, or try to take it for yourself."

"Why can't the stone tell you what you need to know?"

Gil shared an uneasy glance with MadHarp. "Normally it should. But this quest area is shielded against scrying for some reason. I can see people going in and out of it, and there's no settlement there, so I know its some sort of quest, but I can't view the area directly. Some areas or people with anti-magic protections are like that: if you try to look at them with a seerstone, it clouds up. If you push it, they eventually explode."

"And yet you're willing to send me in there." Druin was beginning to get a nasty sensation up and down his spine. "Why me? Why not Desparin? She's eighth circle, declared thief, and she's your friend."

"Desparin's out of town, and I need to move on this quickly, before Mim or one of the others gets hold of this."

"What about MadHarp?" Druin jerked his thumb at the minstel, who was leaning against a bookcase, grinning.

Gil was no longer meeting Druin's eyes. "I need MadHarp here."

"Why?"

"To keep an eye on llamas like you!" Gill roared, his patience snapping. "Damn! Druin, what is your problem? I'm offering you a thousand gold to do a simple scouting job! Don't you want to get anywhere? Or are you going to piss this away like you pissed away our chances in the Swamp?" He was red-faced, and his left hand was clutching the hilt of his broadsword convulsively.

Druin backed away, but found that MadHarp was blocking the exit, casually, but firmly. He swallowed. "As I recall, the gold and experience from the Great Swamp Trek got you to eleventh circle. And you're fourteenth now. Doesn't seem like you made out too badly."

Gil visibly brought himself under control. His smile was patently artificial. "No. That's true, I've done fine. But this is about
you
, Druin, about
you
doing well. Are you going to take the job or not?"

Druin studied him, considering. Gil didn't stifle his anger, he indulged it. He held grudges, and he had no qualms about using people. And he had plenty of people all too willing to let him use them, people like MadHarp. But he was offering the job to Druin.

"You think I'm going to get killed, don't you? You think the area's too dangerous to send your friends, so you're sending me. How many of the people who go into these new areas have come out again, Gil?"

Gil's smile deepened, and it was sincere now, and evil. A shark's smile. "Most of them. Almost all. And no, it wouldn't break my heart if it turned out to be the lair of something nasty and you got crisped. In fact, I'd laugh my ass off. But it's still an honest job offer. I'll register the contract with Justice. No backing out, and no cheating."

Druin spared MadHarp one more glance. The minstrel was smiling broadly, and picking his nails with a long, thin knife which he had not been holding a moment ago.

"Do I have any choice?"

It was Mad-Harp who answered. "Not really, no."

 

After Druin departed, MadHarp returned to the study. Gil was no longer at the desk, and the box containing the ridiculously precious seerstone had been tucked away somewhere out of sight. MadHarp shrugged indifferently. What did he care that Gil didn’t trust him? He wasn’t in this game to develop trust. He was here to...indulge.

He found Gil on the balcony, overlooking the town. Below them, the lamplighters were shuffling through the streets, but the shops still bustled with the activities of hundreds of Adventurers. Some were purely here for enjoyment, and some, like Gil, saw the game as a way to advance other plans. Bitter Edge was housed on the Western server, and thus followed the Pacific time zone, but the town never quite shut down at night. There were too many insomniacs in the world for that.

MadHarp pulled out one of his many daggers. Although he’d oiled the sheath, he carefully scraped the blade along its edge, ensuring that it made a slight rasping noise. Gil didn’t even turn at the sound. Interesting.

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Gil asked quietly, his back still turned.

BOOK: Massively Multiplayer
12.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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