The Fell War - Chapter 8 (Patreon)

Alfre waited impatiently for word to arrive back from Diamond and Clover. While ships could travel the seas with relative ease now that the engines had been designed and the building process had been improved, it still took at least a week for messages to get sent across the seas. Alfre still wasn’t sure how Ran and the Crystal Moon Kingdom were sending messages – something to do with summons and teleportation or whatever. It was all heavily rooted in game mechanics that Alfre had no knowledge of or interest in.

She tried her best to keep from bothering Ran and the others who were in on the whole communications project. She kept herself busy as best she could, meeting with Hadi and other players from Heart to get their opinion on the idea of war. She wandered out in to the Wilds on her own; though still not entirely on her own as Beira rarely left her side. Cutting down low-level mobs wasn’t nearly as cathartic as she’d hoped for, but it was better than doing nothing.

Spica and Elias kept themselves busy as well, running about the city helping where they could. Mostly they helped with training the low-level players that had come over with that first wave of refugees. Many of them were sick of being weak. They were the ones who wanted vengeance the most, Alfre noticed. The stronger players seemed content to simply settle down in Spade, or most of them were at least. Some, guild masters in particular, had planted roots in Heart that could not be replaced. Guildhalls had been smashed and livelihoods ruined. Mid-level players that had no personal attachments to Heart cared the least about the city itself. They were more upset that fellow players had turned against them. They wanted to settle in Spade and forget the whole thing.

None of them wanted war, per say, but they all wanted the aggressors to pay for what they’d done. But without moderators or the ability to ban a player, war seemed like the only option.

“You are worried,” Abital observed, watching her with ruby eyes.

“I’d be surprised if she wasn’t,” Canus muttered, his head in Alfre’s lap as he lounged about in wolf form. “War is no laughing matter.”

“No,” Abital agreed. “It isn’t.”

“I’m still having a hard time figuring out what it is they want,” Alfre admitted. “I’ve gotten so many mixed answers. Most of them want reparations, but if I bring up the idea of fighting, they shy away. Except the little ones. They don’t quite seem to understand what war might actually entail.”

“You wouldn’t actually send them out to fight, would you?” Spica asked from the other side of the room where she snuggled up against Elias’ side on the couch.

“God, no!” Alfre insisted. “Id probably only feel comfortable bringing players over level forty-five with me.”

“You would go fight on the front lines?” Abital’s eyes went wide at the idea, as if it frightened him.

“Of course,” Alfre said, conviction evident in her voice. “I’d never just send people in to fight for me. This was my idea, and I’m going to see it through personally.”

“You’re nuts, snowbird,” Canus said flatly.

Alfre couldn’t help but agree. “Probably. But what else can I do?”

“Not fight?” Elias suggested.

“Too late for that, darling,” Spica reminded him. “We’ve been fighting the whole way through. Since the day we set foot on Ahmar.”

“We’ve gotten everyone out though, haven’t we?” Elias asked, sounding a little bit desperate.

“No,” Alfre said with a sad shake of her head. “There’s still thousands still trapped in the city itself, holed up in the inner districts and their guildhalls. Do you expect them to stay like that the rest of their lives?”

Elias’ ears drooped. “No. I suppose not.”

“We still need to wait to see what Clover and Diamond say,” Spica reminded them. “If we don’t have their support, going to war may very well be suicide. Or as close as we can get in Wonderland.”