Grand Game 473: Negotiating Under Duress (Patreon)

Updated 19-06-2024.

As Ghost raced back to rejoin me, I surveyed the room. 

That the battle had turned was obvious. Now, it was the Riders who fought with renewed vigor and the Blades who were disheartened. It was not the ordinary players who concerned me, though. Focusing on Zultan and Leafbright, I considered the pair. 

The two Rider elites were still chanting. Besides Malikor and Tyelin themselves, they were undoubtedly the biggest threats in the room. If I was going to join the battle, it was them I had to target. 

But which one to tackle first? I wondered. 

Drawing psi, I began a casting while I pondered the question—only to be interrupted midway through again.

“Jasiah?”

It was Tyelin reaching out to me through the farspeaker bracelet. “Yes?” I murmured, not stopping my spellcasting.

“Are you still in the room?” 

“I am,” I replied. “What do you want?”

A pause. “Help.”

I didn’t reply immediately, surprised by the bluntness of his response. But I couldn’t forget that the envoy was a consummate liar, nearly as practiced at obfuscating the truth as… well, me.

Looking across the room, I saw that he and Haiken had not broken off from their fight with Malikor. How wise that was, I wasn’t sure, but between them, the pair had the big paladin locked down, stopping him from interfering in the wider battle. 

“Please,” the envoy coughed, almost seeming to choke on the word. 

Admittedly, I derived a certain amount of pleasure at witnessing the envoy humbled so, but there was no faking the raw desperation in his tone, and my good humor faded quickly. 

I had resolved to intervene in the battle, but my plans for how I went about that were still in flux. That the Riders had to be stopped from restoring their defensive strength above the minimum threshold of one thousand was obvious, but beyond that? I still wasn’t sure what I would do.

And here was Tyelin asking—no, begging—for help. 

Hmm. The Blades’ straits must really be dire this time around. Deciding to maintain my silence, I weighed up the battle. 

Could I sway the outcome? 

I thought so. The Blades still had a numerical superiority when it came to elites—if a slim one. Bern was still alive. Having ducked back into the shadows, he was stealthily making his way toward Malikor. Adding myself to the equation—especially if I managed to neutralize one of the Rider elites quickly—would give the Blades a definite edge, no matter how many more enemy players spilled through the portals.

“If you don’t aid us,” the envoy added, seemingly too anxious to wait for my response, “the sector will remain in the Riders hands, and I know you don’t want that.”

The envoy’s voice, coming uninterrupted over the communication link as it did, gave me a second’s pause. Wasn’t Tyelin embroiled in a deadly fight? 

Frowning, I let my gaze drift back to the skirmish in the center of the storeroom, but all five remaining Tyelins were still dancing about Malikor. Watching him, you’d never say he was fighting distracted, with only one half of his focus on the actual fight. It was an impressive feat and made me doubly wary of trying to cross blades with Tyelin.

“My help will come at a cost,” I warned.

“Name your price,” Tyelin said, not quibbling, “and I assure you my Lady will meet it.” 

“Before we get to the matter of price, tell me about these reserves you mentioned.”

This time the envoy was not as prompt in his response. Yet, he did not refuse to answer. “There is a force of contract mercenaries waiting on the other side of the trapdoor.”

My eyes narrowed. Mercenaries. “How many?”

“One thousand under the command of a Blade named Banyen.”

Ah. So that’s how Tyelin intended to hold the fort after he captured it. “I see. Is this Banyen on the farspeaker link?”

“No. And before you ask: no, I don’t believe the mercenaries are enough to turn the tide. If I thought so, I would open the trapdoor myself.”

I opened my mouth to respond, then noticed Zultan had stopped chanting. Falling silent, I waited. 

A second later, one of the Tyelins exploded. 

I turned the orcish hellbringer’s way. There was little doubt in my mind now that it was Zultan who had killed Lune and Auris. Whatever spell he’d used, it inflicted incredible burst damage—and I dared not let myself or Ghost fall prey to it. 

Drawing my blades from their sheathes, I crept towards the orc. I didn’t act yet, though. There was still the matter of my ‘negotiations’ with the Blade envoy. It was time to conclude.

“Alright, understood,” I said to Tyelin. “As to my price: two hundred thousand gold.” It was a ridiculous sum certainly, and I’d named it chiefly because nothing else had come to mind in the moment, and I knew I didn’t have time to ponder the question further.

“Done,” Tyelin replied promptly.

I winced. Guess I should have asked for more. “You’ll swear a Pact to—” 

“Of course! We can modify our existing Pact to—”

“No,” I refused sharply. “Let’s not complicate matters further. We’ll form a new Pact.”

Another reluctant pause. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Reaching out to the Adjudicator, I formulated the necessary words.

You, in the persona of Jasiah, have proposed a Pact with Blythe, pledging to help her Blades kill Malikor, Zultan, and Leafbright. In exchange, Blythe will pay you the sum of 200,000 gold in the form of an underworld promissory note, which will be handed over to you within 24 hours.

“That’s poorly worded,” Tyelin protested.  “At the very least the Pact should require you to actually kill those three. Also, there should be a—” 

“There’s no time to debate the matter,” I declared. “Accept the Pact as is, or not. But if you don’t, I walk away.”

Silence.

The Pact I’d proposed was unfair, I knew that. But I didn’t care. Tyelin either trusted me to do as I said, or he didn’t. And if he didn’t, I really would walk away.

More precious seconds passed as the envoy deliberated.

Then the ground shook.

Drawing up short, I ran my gaze over the room again. Cracks were spreading across the roof, floor, and walls. Someone had set a spell in motion. Tracing the spidery lines back to their source, I discovered a slim elf at the epicenter—Leafbright. 

Urgh, what now? I wondered.

Leafbright has cast verdant growth.

Thick, fleshy vines burst through the largest of the room’s new fractures and wormed their way in. Spreading rapidly, they covered all four walls, roof, and floor in a matter of seconds.

Glancing down warily, I studied the dense layer of vegetation underfoot. The new growth appeared harmless enough, but I suspected that was only because it was a precursor to something else—a second spell.

One I knew all too well. 

I’d stolen it from the blight druid previously, after all.

“You better hurry making up your mind,” I murmured resuming my advance on Zultan, “because if Leafbright’s next spell is what I think it is, you and the rest of your people don’t have long to live.”

“Nature unchained,” Bern whispered, also listening in.

My brows rose. “So, you know it.” 

“We do,” Tyelin said tightly. “Can you stop her?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I replied smoothly.

A pregnant pause. “Cine reported you using the exact same spell on his command before,” Tyelin said. “I didn’t believe him. But he wasn’t lying, was he?”

“He wasn’t,” I said, with a shrug. The truth would become apparent to the envoy soon enough anyway.

“What are you?” Tyelin whispered.

“Is this really what you want to be discussing now?” I asked in exasperation. “Give me your answer.”

Tyelin didn’t respond verbally, but he didn’t have to. The Game message that dropped into my mind was answer enough.

On behalf of the Power Blythe, Tyelin has accepted your proposal, sealing the Pact between her and the Power known only as Jasiah.

“Excellent.” My eyes flickered back to Leafbright. As expected, the elven druid was whispering furiously to herself again. I knew exactly how long she needed to finish her casting—which didn’t leave us much time. 

“Have your people withdraw to the north and east doorways,” I ordered Tyelin as I drew stamina. “They’re to hold there and prevent any Riders from escaping.”

“You’re going to cast nature unchained before Leafbright does?” Tyelin guessed, not asking me just how I was going to achieve such.

“Yes,” I replied tersely, impatient to act now that my path was set. 

“But that will kill us too,” Bern protested. “Malikor’s spell has us chained here. We can’t retreat. Tyelin tell him!” 

“I suspect Jasiah has already worked out as much for himself,” Tyelin said quietly. “He plans on killing all of us.”

“I have, and I do, but not on purpose,” I confirmed and released the spell I’d woven. 

You have cast mimic, transforming your visage into that of Jasiah. Duration: 10 hours.

Since the Adjudicator had already dubbed me ‘the Power Jasiah’, I decided it best to keep up the façade.

“Why, you little—” Bern began.

“Look,” I said, explaining as rapidly as I could, “Leafbright’s spell is an unlooked for opportunity—and the surest path to victory.  Even if every single Blade in this room perishes, which I doubt will be the case, you will still have the mercenaries waiting beyond the trapdoor. The sector will be yours.”

“What about our gear?” Tyelin asked softly.

“I get to take my pick. Call it the second half of my price.” I paused, then added, “But I promise to limit myself to only one item from every dead Blade.” 

I was being magnanimous, I knew, but I didn’t think my generosity was entirely unwarranted. The Blades would be doing their fair share to help, after all, and a little goodwill would not go amiss.

“And the Riders?” Bern demanded.

“Their gear I claim entirely,” I replied firmly. “Spoils of war and all that.”

Much to my surprise, Tyelin didn’t argue. “Go on. Do it,” he said with a sigh.

Delaying no further, I did just that.

Mage’s surprise activated. Spellhold casting released.

You have trigger-cast nature unchained.