Grand Game 247: Overturning the Gameboard (Patreon)

Surprisingly, the suspicion that Loken knew the truth of my heritage did not dishearten me. On the contrary, my first reaction was one of relief.

Ever since meeting the trickster, I’d felt as if he toyed with me. I’d never been quite able to trust him nor take his actions at face value. Always, the Shadow Power’s apparent generosity had seemed to be tainted by hidden motives. But now, finally, I felt as if I was beginning to draw back the curtain and catch my first glimpse of the true game Loken played.

It was a game I intended to win.

But that was getting ahead of myself. There was still a lot I needed to do before I could be sure my plan would succeed. My next step was to recover my lost gear.

Shrugging off my musings, I made a beeline for the Emporium. It had been months since I’d handed my items over to Cara, and I hoped Kesh hadn’t seen fit to sell them.

Reaching the entrance to the walled compound, I came across two familiar faces.

“Ho, ho, ho,” one of the gatekeepers exclaimed. “Look who’s back again!”

The second guard squinted at me. “Why, if it isn’t our favorite noob,” Ent chortled. “And dressed just as snazzily as the last time!”

Both giants threw back their heads and laughed uproariously. Despite myself, I grinned. The pair’s atrocious sense of humor was almost homely.

“Haha, very funny,” I said, making a face. “Now open up and let me see Kesh.”

Still laughing, Lake threw me a mocking bow before pushing open the gate.

✵ ✵ ✵

Kesh was in her office as she always seemed to be, leaving me to wonder if she slept in the place. As I was ushered in, the old lady looked up.

“So,” she said without any inflection in her tone. “You’re back.”

I sighed in feigned disappointment. “You know, you could at least pretend you’re happy to see me.”

The corners of the merchant’s mouth twitched, but she otherwise ignored my remark. “Sit,” she ordered.

I slipped into the chair opposite her. “I take it, you know why I’m here?”

Kesh looked at me quizzically. “What, no small talk? No explanation for your absence?” Her gaze sharpened. “And no excuses for using my agent as a courier or leaving me to deal with your tavernkeeper’s evermore insistent inquiries?”

I smiled. “Why Kesh, you surprise me,” I murmured. “I thought you were all business?”

The merchant stared at me stonily.

I chuckled, but after only a moment, my amusement faded. “What’s this about Saya?”

Despite my avoidance of her own questions, Kesh answered me readily enough. “The gnome has been writing to me regularly, asking after you. Of course, I didn’t have much to tell her. All I could report was that I had no idea of your whereabouts. Needless to say, that did not satisfy the girl, and of late, her letters have grown more demanding.” She snorted. “She’s even threatened to lodge a complaint with the Triumvirate.”

Saya’s threat did not seem to perturb Kesh. In fact, it was Saya’s mistrust, more than anything else, that appeared to offend the merchant.

Reaching under the table, Kesh pulled out a thick stack of letters. “But now that you’ve returned, you can deal with the matter and set her mind at ease.”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I can’t just yet. I have something to attend to first.”

The old lady’s brows rose. “You should at least read her last correspondence. I believe you might find cause for concern in there.”

I was tempted but shook my head again. Whatever it was could wait one more day. Until Loken was dealt with, I couldn’t afford to be distracted. “I will,” I said. “When I get back.”

Kesh’s eyebrows rose higher. “Suit yourself,” she said as she stowed the letters back into some unseen magical compartment.

“Do you have my stuff?” I asked, getting to the real reason I’d come here.

Kesh grunted. “I do.” Reaching down again, she pulled out my bag of holding and laid it on the table before me.

Not bothering to hide my relief, I snatched up the bag and peered inside.

“It’s all there,” Kesh said.

“I believe you.” I rose to my feet. “Thank you! I won’t forget this. But now, I must go—”

“Wait!” the old lady barked. “You’re leaving? Just like that? Without any explanation, after disappearing for nine whole months?”

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry.”

“I can see that,” Kesh muttered. “But you do remember you’ve appointed me as your factor, don’t you? Keep your secrets if you must, but there are important matters we must discuss—not least being the state of the tavern’s finances.”

I looked at her in surprise. “Is the tavern in trouble?”

Kesh shook her head. “On the contrary, its earnings are... considerable. You should review the books.”

“I’ll do that, but later,” I promised. “In the interim, can you transfer a portion of the tavern funds into my Albion account? Nothing significant,” I hastened to add, “just some small change.”

I’d wiped out my bank balance before entering the guardian tower, and even though I didn’t intend to leave the safe zone just yet, I realized I might need some cash on hand.

“I’ll do that,” Kesh said. “Just remember, the tavern books will be waiting for you whenever you’re ready. Another thing: about the items you asked me to acquire—”

I waved off her words. “We can discuss that later too.”

“Very well,” Kesh grumbled. “I can see trying to talk to you now is useless. Go on, off with you.”

I turned about, then paused as something occurred to me. “I just had a thought... can you draw up a list of all the resistance skills available in the Game? I’m particularly interested in the more powerful variants.”

Kesh studied me expressionlessly for a moment. “This is for your new void Class, I take it?”

Her knowledge didn’t surprise me. “Exactly,” I said simply.

“I’ll get on it,” the factor replied.

“Thank you,” I said. “Oh, and one other thing. You can’t, by any chance, provide me with some directions?”

Kesh sighed. “Where to?”

“The palace of a Dark Power.”

Unable to disguise her surprise, Kesh’s eyes widened. “Which one?”

When I told her, her eyes grew even rounder.

✵ ✵ ✵

Hurrying out of the Emporium, I headed to the Wanderer’s Delight hotel. My next appointment was crucial to my plans, and I needed to be properly dressed for it. Not that I thought my gear would impress a Power, but I didn’t want to risk insulting him by turning up in newbie clothes.

After purchasing a room for the day, I discovered that what Kesh considered ‘small change’ was considerably more than I did.

You have acquired a room key. You have lost 10 gold. Money remaining in your bank account: 990 gold.

Just how much money had the tavern made? I wondered in idle speculation. It had to be substantial if Kesh had deposited a thousand gold into my account without blinking.

“Will that be all, sir?” the hotel maître asked, breaking through my musings.

“Yes, thanks,” I replied. Lifting my hand from his keystone, I headed up to my room and changed back into my old gear.

You have equipped a set of enchanted leather armor, 5 trinkets, the wayfarer’s boots, and other miscellaneous gear.

The net effect of your equipped items is +2 Magic, +4 Strength, +8 Dexterity, and 26% physical damage reduction.

“Ah,” I exclaimed, reveling in the tiny but significant boosts provided by my old gear. In many ways, I felt as if I’d outgrown the equipment. But if everything else went as expected, there would be enough time to see to its replacement.

Closing the room door behind me, I exited the hotel and headed to Palace Row.

✵ ✵ ✵

The street wasn’t really called Palace Row, but its fringes were so heavily populated with mansions of the Game’s elite that I thought the name apt.

Reaching the southern end of the street, I searched for the mansion Kesh had described. It did not take me long to find it. Just like the merchant had said, it was more fortress than palace.

Strolling casually up to the gate, I presented myself to the armed soldiers standing guard before it. Despite being in a safe zone, both were heavily armored in gleaming ebony plate mail. “Get lost,” the more senior of the two barked before I could address him.

By his shoulder patch, I marked him as a sergeant. “I’m here to see Tartar,” I said politely.

The second soldier snorted in disbelief. “Can you believe this moron? Who does he—”

The sergeant cut him off. “I said go away,” he growled.

Reaching into my pocket, I flipped the Tartan token Talon had given me toward him. The legion sergeant caught it by reflex and glanced down. From his expression, I could tell the exact moment he caught sight of the raging bull prominently marked on its surface.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded.

“From a certain Captain Talon,” I answered truthfully.

The second soldier’s eyes widened. “You mean the Captain Talon, the captain-commander of the Ebonguard?”

I smiled. “That’s the one.”

The two legion soldiers glanced at each other. “Is it fake?” the second whispered.

“Don’t be an idiot,” the sergeant growled. “These tokens can’t be counterfeited.” His gaze darted to me. “Or stolen.” But despite his words, the sergeant peered at me suspiciously as if suspecting I’d done just that.

Saying nothing, I waited for them to decide what to do. The conclusion seemed inevitable, anyway. Seeming to realize the same, the sergeant turned to his companion. “Fetch the commander,” he ordered.

“The commander?” the soldier exclaimed. “You can’t be serious. He’ll skin us—”

“Go!” the sergeant barked, cutting him off.

The soldier went.

A smile toying on my lips, I folded my arms and waited.