Grand Game 330: A City of Fours (Patreon)

Day Six in Draven’s Reach

An hour later, I found myself in one of the fortresses at the heart of the city. New Haven did not have anything like a main keep, but that did not mean its center was undefended. Four separate strongholds occupied the middle, each almost a fortified city on its own.

The inside of the fortress was decorated with tapestries, rugs, and artworks of wooded forests, green pastures, blue skies, and meandering rivers. The pictures were a stark contrast to Draven’s Reach’s purple horizon and barren mountains, and I suspected they were the memories of a homesick people. But despite the rich furnishings, the corridors we walked through were empty. Had they been cleared in anticipation of our arrival?

The marshal led me directly to a large hall on an upper floor. The entrance was guarded by four separate squads of soldiers, each bearing a different crest on their tabards, I noted. Waving me past the sentries, Elron guided me into the chamber and closed the doors behind us.

“Go ahead, they’re waiting,” he said, pointing towards the table at the hall’s other end. Staying behind, he leaned against the doors, as if to ensure the meeting’s privacy.

Two men and two women sat at the table—an orc, a human, a dwarf, and an elf. The city’s rulers. At last, we’d come face to face, and I did not think it a coincidence that between them, the four represented the city’s primary races. Before proceedings could begin, I analyzed each figure.

The target is Cilia, a level 78 dark elf.

The target is Sienna, a level 32 human.

The target is Stormhammer, a level 43 dwarf.

The target is Lorn, a level 47 orc.

The four were richly dressed in civilian clothes and crowned with silver circlets. The dark elf woman, Cilia, was the most interesting. She wore a gown of severe black and multiple pieces of jewelry, all of which had the telltale gleam of magical enchantments. A spellcaster? She was the highest ranked of the rulers too, and my gaze fixed on her expectantly.

It was the dwarf who rose to greet me, though. “So, you are the one,” he rumbled, the words laced with derision.

I studied the dwarf curiously. His fine robes sat uneasily on him, and I guessed they were not his regular garb.  His hands were rough and his fingernails short. A fighter? But no, his stomach bulged, and his arms lacked tone. A crafter, I decided. And one in a foul mood too, judging by his expression. Folding my hands behind my back, I waited for him to go on.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer?” Stormhammer demanded.

“You asked no question,” I replied mildly.

The dwarf’s face turned red. “Why, you insolent—”

“Stormhammer,” Cilia interjected smoothly, “do not forget the player is our guest.”

“Yes, perhaps it would be wise to introduce ourselves first,” the human added in a languid tone. Her clothes fit her perfectly. Elegantly dressed and manicured, Sienna was the epitome of human beauty.

“Bah,” the dwarf muttered testily. Sitting down, he waved them to go ahead.

The elf rose. “I’m Cilia, first amongst the dark elves of New Haven,” she pronounced. Sitting down, she glanced at the orc.

The tall, green-skinned figure did not bother getting up. “Lorn, orc chief,” he rasped in a bored tone. His clothes, while no less finely made than the others, were festooned with primitive looking beads and feathers.

An affection, I decided. The orc might play at looking the barbarian, but beneath his lidded gaze, I sensed a shrewd mind.

The human ruler inclined her head regally. “Sienna. High Lord of the humans of New Haven.” A coy smile toyed on her lips and her gaze held more than a hint of promise.

Fighting the urge to look away, I didn’t break eye contact. This is a woman well-used to the halls of power and intrigue, I thought, and I wasn’t about to betray any weakness before her.

After Sienna finished, a small silence descended, and when it became clear the dwarf would not speak, the other rulers turned his way.

“What?” he growled, wilting under their stares. “He knows who I am already.”

Cilia did not roll her eyes, but I could see she wanted to. “That,” she said, pointing to the dwarf, “is Thane Stormhammer, ruler of the dwarves and current leader of the New Haven council.”

Four fortresses. Four rulers. Four races. A city of fours.

I bowed respectfully. “And I am Taim, an explorer from the Nexus branch of the bounty hunters guild.”

An expectant hush followed.

“Come now,” Sienna prompted, “you are surely more than that. You are an elite amongst your kind, are you not?”

“As well as unsworn,” Cilia added. “And beholden to no Power. All these things taken together mark you as one meant for greater things.”

“Tell us: which factions support your rise?” Lorn asked.

Three inquisitive gazes pinned me, waiting for my response.

Now, I know how the thane felt. Keeping my face smooth, I let no sign of my confusion show. Like Elron, the council members appeared well-acquainted with players, but more than that, they appeared to be drawing conclusions I had not intended—and quite frankly did not fully understand.

Stormhammer thumped a fist down on the table, saving me from answering. “Foolishness! None of that is here nor there.” He glared at his fellow rulers with a surprising amount of heat. “Forget this useless prattle and let’s get to the heart of the matter!”

The others’ faces tightened at the dwarf’s scolding, but none demurred. “As you wish,” Cilia said, her lips thinning.

The dwarf swung back to me without acknowledging their acquiescence. “How did you get here?” he demanded.

I did not hide my confusion this time. “Here? If you mean the city, then through the south gate. If you mean this fortress—”

“Don’t play the fool,” the dwarf roared. “We want to know how you got into the dungeon!”

“Through the entrance portal, of course,” I replied evenly, ignoring his ire.

Cilia’s face fell, Sienna pouted, and even Lorn was moved to look disappointed.

“I told you!” Stormhammer crowed. “He is not what he claims.”

“Is this a trick?” Sienna asked in a low-voiced aside to Cilia. “Is he one of them?”

Shaking her head, the dark elf whispered back, “He cannot be possessed. The diviner proved that. He is Marked.”

My gaze jumped from one city ruler to another. It was clear they did not believe me, but what I didn’t understand was why. “What is a possessed?” I asked loudly, hoping to shake free a clue as to the reason.

Sienna and Cilia looked startled that I’d overheard them, but neither responded. I glanced at Lorn. His face had grown impassive again, though, and was of no help. Finally, I turned to Stormhammer.

The dwarf was staring at me with open hostility. “You are a liar,” he accused. “The entrance portal lies in the square at the center of the city, and since our exodus into Draven’s Reach, it has remained shut.” Just in case I didn’t understand, he added, “The portal is dead and will remain so for all eternity.”

I stared at him. I’d never heard of a dead portal before. The thane could be lying, but I didn’t think so, and at least I now knew the cause of their disbelief. “How did that happen?” I asked softly.

My question was ignored—again.

“This audience is over,” Stormhammer declared. “Take him back to—”

“I entered Draven’s Reach through a hidden portal,” I interjected. I wasn’t ready to risk open hostilities with the council yet and if that meant sharing more truth than I planned, so be it.

Cilia stilled, and Sienna drew in a sharp breath, but Stormhammer was unmoved. “Guards!” he shouted. “Come, take—”

“This portal, is it two-way?” Lorn asked abruptly.

The thane shot him a sideways glance but didn’t admonish the orc or call for the guards again.

They seek escape as desperately as I do, I thought. I shook my head. “Sadly, it’s not.”

“Convenient,” the thane huffed.

“Not at all,” I said, deliberately misinterpreting his comment. “It’s proving most inconvenient. I urgently need to return to the guild—” I paused for emphasis—“which is why I need the location of the exit portal.”

“Why is it that you are the only one to have come through?” Lorn probed, ignoring my oblique request altogether.

“Because the second entrance is hidden,” I said with mild exasperation. “I’m the first to have discovered it.”

Cilia studied her fingers. “Can we expect more players to visit us then?”

I hesitated. “I doubt it. The portal is in a sector in the throes of a nether invasion.”

At the mention of the void the faces of all four rulers paled. “What the harbinger said was true then,” Sienna murmured, tugging anxiously at her hair. “The void has spread everywhere. We will find no succor from its touch.”

My curiosity was piqued by her words. That the city rulers knew of the harbinger was interesting, but not wanting to send them down another tangent, I ignored the reference.

“Not at all,” I said, meeting the high lord’s gaze squarely. “The void has not won, nor is it close to doing so.” I did not know this for a fact but had no compunctions overstating my case. “There are still many sectors in the Kingdom free of its touch, and I can help you rid your own sector of it.”

“And in exchange for this… generosity, you want information on the portal’s exit location?” Lorn asked.

“Yes,” I said simply.

“This is all an elaborate trick,” the dwarf scoffed. “Some sick ploy of the possessed. They toy with us again!”

Again, the mention of possessed. “Whatever the possessed are,” I said, not flinching away from the angry thane’s gaze, “I am not one of them.”

“Prove it,” the dwarf growled.

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could do so, Cilia intervened, “We already know he is not one of the possessed, Stormhammer. And like it or not, Taim’s explanation of how he entered the dungeon is logical. He is a player. Your stubborn persistence in believing otherwise is childish and beneath you.”

She turned to me. “But players can be just as dangerous as anything else in Draven’s Reach. That Taim is one does not automatically make him our friend. It is time, I think, for our guest to prove his intentions.” She glanced at the door, and in response, the nearly forgotten marshal strode forward.

“My men are prepared,” Elron said. “If the player can do what he says, we are ready to sally through the south gate and see the deed done.”

I glanced from the marshal to the First. I suspected I already knew how Cilia expected me to prove ‘my intentions,’ but I wanted the council to voice their request aloud. “What is it that you want of me?”

Cilia stared pointedly at Stormhammer.

The thane’s mouth worked mutinously, but only for a moment. “The council has agreed that to prove yourself you must destroy one of the fog banks threatening New Haven,” he said, slumped in defeat.

“Call it a gesture of good faith,” Sienna added.

My interest quickened. We’d finally gotten to the meat of the matter. “If I do this… you will tell me where the exit portal is?”

“We shall,” Lorn confirmed. “But only on the condition that you destroy the second fog bank thereafter.”

I nodded. “Then, we have a deal.”

✵ ✵ ✵

The moment the audience concluded, Elron strode purposefully out the council chamber. Hurrying my own steps, I caught up to him.

The meeting with the city’s rulers had raised more questions than it had answered, but now was not the time to deal with any of them. Things were finally moving in the right direction, and I was anxious to get started on my own part.

I glanced at the marshal. “So, what’s the plan?”

He didn’t slow down. “That depends on whether you can do what you say.”

“You don’t believe I can?”

“You are one man, even if you are a player.” He shrugged. “There are dozens of stygians guarding each seed. Even if you could enter the fog bank and survive its touch long enough to reach the thing, I fail to see how you could defeat that many foes and destroy the seed before the nether killed you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“You said there are dozens of stygian hiding in the fog,” I pointed out. “How can you know that?” I asked reasonably.

Saying nothing, Elron stared at me tight lipped.

“You’ve tried to destroy the seeds yourselves,” I guessed. “You sent men into the fog.”

Emotion, quickly suppressed, flickered across the dark elf’s face. “I did,” he admitted.

“How did they—” I broke off. “No one survived, did they?”

Elron nodded, his face impassive, but in his stony expression, I read bleakness. “I would’ve gone myself but the First forbade it.”

I winced sympathetically. “How long did your soldiers last?”

Elron’s expression did not change. “No one knows. Once they passed beyond the fog’s edge, we lost track of them. But however long it was, it was not long enough to reach the seed.” The marshal’s frozen mask finally cracked. “They were good men,” he whispered.

“I have no doubt,” I said soberly.

The marshal drew to a halt and swung to face me. “I will not repeat my mistakes,” he said, his tone hard. Taking a step forward, he placed his face an inch from mine. “I know you players don’t value the lives of proles much, but I will not let my men suffer the nether’s touch again—no matter what you, the council, or anyone else demands.”

I didn’t back away. “I won’t ask that of them or you,” I said quietly.

Elron scrutinized me for a drawn-out moment before retreating. “Then we understand each other. Now, let’s discuss the plan…”