Grand Game 271: Another Reunion (Patreon)

The street beyond Pitor and his men was deserted. That was no accident, I knew. The blockade we’d just passed was responsible. My gaze slid to the opposite end of the street and picked out a second cordon.

I grimaced. Pitor’s operation was no two-bit scheme. He was going to great pains to keep people away from the tavern. Why, though? Was it simple extortion?

“I’m guessing you know the owner,” Shael said in a low voice as he hurried to my side.

Looking over my shoulder at the players behind us, I didn’t answer immediately. They were still watching us through narrowed eyes and with hands resting on weapons. Still, the stop at the blockade had not felt targeted, and Pitor hadn’t seemed to realize I was the tavern’s owner.

In fact, unless Saya had told someone, I doubted anyone but Kesh, Cara, and the gnome knew who actually owned the tavern. Well, Loken did, but he didn’t really count, and whatever game Pitor was running, it was too crude to be the Shadow Power’s doing.

Shael doesn’t need to know the whole truth, not yet. Best to keep the knowledge contained.

I turned back to the bard. “In a manner of speaking,” I replied obliquely.

“I thought so,” he said. “That’s why we’re here, then? You got a job to protect the tavern?”

“Exactly, right.” I hesitated. “But it’s more than that. The tavernkeeper is a friend.”

Shael glanced at me. “This is the gnome that fool was referring to?”

I nodded.

“Well, I’m eager to meet her then.”

I studied the bard curiously. “Are you sure you want to entangle yourself in this? Your earlier, uhm… concerns about the sector were warranted. It was shortsighted of me not to explain how things stood in the valley before bringing you here. And now this.” I stared at him soberly. “If you want to walk away, I understand.”

“Nah, I don’t.” Shael chuckled. “And you don’t have to tiptoe around my feelings, you know. What I experienced earlier was panic—plain and simple. In my defense, going from the safety of Nexus to an active warzone was a real shock to the system, that’s all.” He shook himself. “But I’m good now and will do whatever I can to help.”

I glanced at Cara. She had remained silent throughout our exchange.

Feeling my gaze upon her, she said, “There is little those thugs can do to harm me; my protections are greater than they can hope to overcome.” She paused. “And besides, part of my directive is to help you resolve matters here however I can.”

“Thank you,” I said, nodding gratefully to both of them. I had no plan yet for dealing with Pitor’s gang, but I was sure with the pair’s help, things would be that much easier.

We reached the tavern’s entrance, and without pause, I hurried up the steps and into its depths.

✵ ✵ ✵

Stepping through the doors, Shael, Cara, and I entered a nearly deserted room. Just as I feared, the tavern was as empty as the streets outside had suggested it would be.

There were still a few patrons, but they numbered less than a double handful. The players, intent on not drawing attention to themselves, nursed their drinks and did not look up at our appearance. They’re scared, I thought.

Our entrance did not go entirely unnoticed, though. Two waiters swung in our direction, a comical look of relief on their faces.

“Welcome to the Sleepy Inn,” the first greeted, a tall blonde-haired girl who looked no older than twenty. Her face was all sharp angles, but her gray eyes were full of warmth.

The second waiter, a thin and gangly boy, strode silently beside the girl as she hurried towards us. His features bore a striking resemblance to the girl, and I suspected they were siblings.

Incongruously, both players were armed. Beneath the aprons wrapped around their bodies and the dirty rags draped over their shoulders, the youths wore chainmail armor and had weapons strapped at the hip.

Strange sorts of waiters, I thought, and promptly analyzed both.

The target is Teresa, a level 25 human blade devotee. She bears a Mark of Minor Light.

The target is Terence, a level 22 human swordsman. He bears a Mark of Minor Light.

My brows rose. “You two are not civilians?”

Teresa smiled. “We’re not, but we get that question a lot. We’re just helping out. The owner is our friend.”

“Speaking of whom…” Terence glanced over his shoulder. “Saya!” he hollered. “We have guests.”

“Coming!” a familiar voice called from somewhere above.

“Please, sit,” Teresa said, ushering us towards one of the nearby empty tables. “Saya will be with you now.”

Obligingly, Cara and Shael trailed after the girl. I followed more slowly, scanning the room.

The tavern’s common area had grown, expanding into the kitchen at its rear and the smaller side rooms until it took up what I assumed to be the entirety of the ground floor. The inside was as gaily decorated as the outside, too. Flowerpots, magelights, and colorful baubles hung everywhere.

But despite the cheerful décor, there were plenty of signs that the tavern had fallen on hard times. Some of the flowers were withered, cracked pots were left unrepaired, and most of the magelights stayed unlit—not to mention the sea of empty tables.

My hands closed into fists. The trouble plaguing the tavern had to have been going on for a lot longer than a few weeks. Just how long has Saya been forced to deal with Pitor and his ilk on her own?

At the sound of soft footfalls coming down the stairs, my gaze jerked upward. A moment later, a short figure appeared.

It was Saya.

The gnome had aged. Lines creased her face, her hair was frayed, and bags rimmed her eyes. She’d changed, I thought, wondering where the adventurous young soul who I’d rescued from the wyvern had vanished to.

The tavernkeeper’s eyes drifted unseeing past me to alight on Shael and Cara, and some of the worry clouding her gaze lifted.

I winced, pained to see the hungry hope in her eyes at the appearance of new guests. I should have come sooner, I thought guiltily, never mind the impossibility of such. I took a step forward, and the gnome’s gaze jerked back to me.

For a moment, Saya stared blankly, not recognizing me, then realization hit, and she gasped. Meeting her gaze, I smiled. “Hi, Saya. I’ve finally—”

Hurtling forward, she flung herself at me. “Michael!” she squealed, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

I staggered backward, nearly bowled over. Indifferent to the spectacle we made, Saya hugged my legs tightly and buried her face in me.

“I knew you’d come,” she cried, her voice muffled so that no one else could hear. Not that I thought Saya cared just then. She was trembling, and sobs of relief—at least I hoped it was relief— wracked her body.

I patted her back awkwardly. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” I replied quietly. “I would’ve come sooner if possible.”

Wordlessly, Saya squeezed me tighter.

Staying silent, I held her until she regained her composure. Finally, Saya stepped back and looked at me through reddened eyes. “How did you know we needed you?”

“I received your letters yesterday.”

Saya’s brows creased. “But I sent nothing yesterday.”

I nodded. “It was a batch of old letters. The latest one mentioned the trouble you were having with—”

“Let me see it,” Saya interrupted.

Silently, I handed her the missive in question.

Saya’s frown deepened as she read the letter. “But I sent this weeks ago! Where did you get it?”

“Kesh gave it to me,” I replied.

“But… But what about the other letters I sent since then? Did she not have them?”

I shook my head. “This was the last correspondence Kesh received. Your silence worried her enough to bring the matter to my attention.” I hung my head. “Sadly, I myself have been out of contact with Kesh for the last few months. It was only two days ago that I saw her again.”

Saya squeezed my arm. “What matters is that you’re here now.” Her face tightened. “But that merchant… I will have to do something about him,” she whispered.

My eyes narrowed as I stared at the grim-faced tavernkeeper. The look on Saya’s face was not one I recognized, and it almost seemed as if she was contemplating murder. What had happened to her in the intervening time to make her so… bloodthirsty?

“Saya,” I said softly.

Lost in her thoughts, the gnome did not look up.

“Saya,” I repeated louder.

Finally, she met my gaze.

“Tell me what’s happened,” I said gently.

Saya stared at me wordlessly for a moment, then deflated, the bleakness fading from her expression. “It’s a long tale, Michael.” She pulled me towards the table where the others sat. “Come, you’ll want to sit for this.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Saya insisted on serving us herself.

Shooing away her young waiters, she brought the food and drink and refused to answer any questions until we’d eaten our fill. Gradually, the attention of the other patrons drifted away, leaving us free to talk.

After the dishes were cleared away, Saya reemerged from the first floor, where I understood the kitchens and tavern offices had been relocated. Seating herself at the table, she introduced herself.

“And who are your friends, Michael?”  she asked.

I turned to the half-elf. “Shael here is a red bard from Nexus. He did me a favor two years ago, and today I returned it by getting him out of the city.”

Saya bobbed her head in greeting, but I didn’t miss the shrewd glint in her eyes as she assessed the bard and, more particularly, his flute.

Shael bowed in his chair. “Nice to meet you, good lady. I admit when Michael told me he had a job for me, this was not what I was expecting, but you have a lovely place here, one that should be filled to the bursting every night! I assure you we will see that happens. Mostly, though, I hope we will become friends.”

Ignoring the bard’s expansive promise, I turned to Cara. “And this is Cara, Kesh’s agent. She’s here to set up an emporium outlet and help as necessary.”

Cara inclined her head. “It’s a pleasure, Saya.”

“Likewise,” the gnome replied. “I may never have met your mistress, but I feel like I know her already. I learned a lot through our correspondences, so much so that I’ve come to depend on her advice.” She sighed. “Which is why I found her silence this past month so difficult.”

“Kesh is the wisest of merchants,” Cara agreed. “And I believe she’s taken a liking to you, too.” Amusement threaded her voice as she added, “I’ve been given strict instructions to see you safe.” She paused. “But more to the point, now that I’m here, your communication can resume. I will act as an intermediary for your messages.”

Saya sat up, her face shining. “Thank you,” she said fervently.

Before Cara could respond, I leaned forward across the table. “Right, now that the introductions are out of the way, tell me what’s happened.”

Saya’s face darkened, and I could almost see the worry settle on her shoulders again.

I bit my lip, wishing I could take back my words. Why couldn’t I have found a more tactful way of broaching the subject?

Saya’s gaze drifted towards the open door. “You must’ve run into our persecutors on your way here …?”

I nodded grimly. “Some player named Pitor stopped us for a chat.”

“I know him well,” Saya said thinly. “He is one of Yzark’s underlings.”

I frowned. “Yzark?”

Saya nodded. “He is the Marauder boss in charge of their operations in the sector.” Her jaw tightened. “He is the one who has decided to target the tavern.”

I leaned back in my chair. Saya’s words implied that the efforts against the tavern were more extensive than I’d initially thought. There is more going on here than I realized. My original assumptions may be wrong too. “These… marauders, they are extorting you for money?”

Saya snorted. “I wish. They don’t want money; they want the tavern.”

“What?” I asked sharply.

Saya gestured to the street outside. “The whole point of all their harassment is to force me to sell.”

The gnome stressed the word ‘me’ ever so slightly. I didn’t think the others had noticed, but I took her point: the marauders believed Saya to be the tavern owner.

I nodded minutely in acknowledgment of her message, and Saya went on, “The Marauders want the tavern, but not for the reasons you’d assume.” She paused. “They’re not interested in the money it makes; they’re after the building itself. The tavern is the largest structure in the safe zone, centrally located, and would make for an ideal base.”

My eyes narrowed. “Base for what?”

“Controlling the sector.”

I went still. “The Marauders are a faction?”

Saya nodded mutely.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as the implications sunk in. “One large enough to challenge Tartar?”

I hadn’t seen any evidence of the legions in the sector yet. Still, I couldn’t believe Tartar or Captain Talon had abandoned the valley, not after all the trouble they’d already gone through to wrest control of it from the Awakened Dead.

To my surprise, Saya shook her head. “Far from it. Everything I’ve managed to learn about them suggests they’re one of the smaller factions in the Game.”

My face scrunched up in confusion. “Then, what makes them believe they can—”

“I think I know what’s going on here,” Shael interjected.

I turned to the bard. I’d almost forgotten about my two companions, so caught up had I become in Saya’s explanation. “You do?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard of the Marauders. They’re a Shadow faction led by the Power Kalin. It’s true they are a minor faction, but they have a reputation for punching above their weight.” He met my gaze. “They’re power brokers.”

I stared at him blankly.

“What the bard means,” Cara said, “is that factions like the Marauders—and they’re not the only ones—seek out war-torn sectors where the bigger factions have failed to score a decisive victory and insert themselves as middlemen.”

Shael nodded. “It’s when a resource—be it a mine, dungeon, or even a sector—is too important for one of the big guys to let another control that the Marauders come into play. They swoop in, take ownership, then sell access to whoever wants it.” His lips twisted in disgust. “They don’t care who they grant access to—so long as they pay.”

I digested his words. Power brokers, indeed. “And the other factions allow this?”

Shael shrugged. “What choice do they have? The Marauders may be vultures, but they still serve a valuable function. It’s either allow someone unimportant like the Marauders to control this sector or—”

“—go to all-out war,” I finished for him grimly.

“Exactly,” Shael replied. “If the major factions bring their full might to play in this sector, it would quickly be turned into a wasteland.”

“Thereby destroying the very thing they sought to possess,” I murmured. “That implies…” I glanced at Saya. “Has the war in this sector come to a standstill?”

Her lips turned down. “That may be overstating the situation. Skirmishes occur between the factions daily.” She paused. “But I suppose there haven’t been any big battles of late, and none of the factions appear close to gaining control of the sector. Since the Howlers’ defenses were destroyed, no one has managed to refortify the village.”

I nodded absently, recalling that controlling access to the safe zone was one of the key requirements for taking ownership of the sector.

“Just which factions are we talking about?” Shael asked curiously. “I heard Tartar mentioned, but not who the other players are.”

“Three Powers have armies in the sector,” Saya replied. Raising her hand, she ticked them off on her fingers. “Tartar. Loken. Muriel.”

I frowned. That Tartar was still here did not surprise me. But that Loken had brought a warband into the valley caught me by surprise. It was unlike the trickster to act so directly. “Loken has an army here? And who is Muriel?”

“He does,” Saya said. “His forces are led by an envoy. I’ve never seen her personally, but the rumors of her are too prevalent to ignore. As for Muriel, she is a major Power of Light and the one responsible for persecuting the war on their behalf.”

“Muriel?” I mused. “Not Arinna?”

Saya stared at me blankly. “Arinna? Why would she have an interest in this sector?”

I wave aside a question. “Not important. What happened to Ishita and Erebus? Have they abandoned the valley?”

“Not entirely,” Saya replied. “They Awakened Dead have retreated to the dungeon. For the moment, they only seem interested in holding its entrance secure.”

Well, that was a bit of good news, at least and meant I wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over Ishita’s followers. “I noticed you didn’t list Kalin as one of the contesting Powers,” I said after a moment.

“Because he isn’t,” Saya said. “While the Marauders do have a force present in the sector, they don’t have the numbers the big three do. Kalin has avoided conflict with the others, and they are just as content to ignore him.” She grimaced. “Despite my pleading, neither Loken, Tartar, nor Muriel’s people are willing to step in to protect the tavern.”

“I see,” I said and bowed my head to think. In some ways, the situation in the valley mirrored the one of two years ago. Then, it had been the goblin tribes fighting for control of the sector; now, it was the Powers themselves. Somehow, though, I didn’t think my previous tactics would work.

Still, there must be some way to see Saya and the tavern through this. Not to mention the dire wolves. I’d steadfastly not been thinking about them. Surviving in the war-torn valley, one rife with players, could not be easy for the pack.

I raised my head. “You’ve painted a bleak picture, Saya, but I’m sure there must be a way to extricate the tavern from this mess. First, though, I need you to recall every last detail about all five forces in the valley.” I held her gaze to make sure she understood. “Tell me everything and leave nothing out.”

The gnome took a deep breath. “Alright. Then, to begin with, you’ll want to know about…”