Grand Game 334: The Missing Piece (Patreon)

“Let’s go,” Elron said as soon as the city gates shut behind us.

I glanced around but failed to spot Avery. “Where’s the magister?”

“He had other things to attend to,” Elron replied, not looking at me as he strode away.

I hurried to catch up. “That’s a pity. I had some questions for him.”

The marshal looked at me sharply. “Questions? What sort of questions?”

I shrugged. “All sorts. Like why he and his fellows didn’t participate in the battle. About how is it that he is so high-leveled—it can’t simply be from studying! Oh, and whether I could have a peek at those books he mentioned.” I paused. “Do you think he’ll let me read them?”

Elron said nothing. His eyes, though, spoke volumes. They were not that of a man caught out by ignorance, but of someone faced with questions he didn’t want to answer.

Smiling, I kept going. “Then there is the dome. I find it fascinating that non-players can create a shield powerful enough to keep out a minor Power. And at the same time make it large enough to cover the entire city. You wouldn’t happen to know how they accomplished that minor miracle, would you?”

Elron remained stubbornly silent.

“It’s curious, that’s all,” I said mildly. But it was more than that, and we both knew it.

The marshal seemed to deflate. “Very well,” he sighed. “I’ll tell you.”

I waited expectantly, not daring to say anything else lest he change his mind.

“We always knew this day would come,” Elron said softly.

I looked at him in confusion. Did he mean my arrival?

He smiled. “Not your coming. The stygians. And we’ve prepared for it accordingly.”

“Back up,” I said. “You predicted the stygians were going to invade the dungeon?”

He nodded mutely.

I frowned. “Why would you—?” I broke off. “It was because your home sector was overrun by the nether,” I said, answering my own question. “After that happened, you expected them to follow you here.”

“That’s right,” Elron agreed. “But how did you figure out even that much?”

“It’s because of what Stormhammer said. He mentioned the gateway your people entered through was sealed, and I can think of only one reason why a Game portal would shut itself.”

“The void. Of course.” Elron shook his head sadly. “It’s true. My people are refugees. We were forced to flee the nether’s coming once and vowed thereafter never to be caught unprepared again.”

“But that must have been a long time ago,” I protested. “This city looks old.”

“It’s been centuries,” Elron agreed. “We didn’t forget, though. For generations now, our mage guilds have directed their arcane studies towards defensive magics—to the exclusion of all else. Over the years, they refined their spells and expanded their repertoire, and today, our spellcasters far surpass the skills they possessed prior to our exile.”

“Hmm. Is that why none of the mages accompanied your soldiers on today’s raid? Or the one the day I arrived?”

Elron sighed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you guessed right again. Our spellcasters have no offensive magics. And besides, they’re too valuable to risk outside the walls.”

For a minute, we walked in silence as I chewed over Elron’s words. The marshal’s story made sense—as far as it went. “Still, even given all that, I find it hard to credit that non-players can perform magic on—” I gestured to the dome—“that scale.”

The marshal’s lips twisted, disdain flickering across his face. “We proles are more capable than you players think.”

My brow furrowed. Was Elron right? Was my perspective skewed? Did I underestimate the New Havens. Perhaps. I would have to think on it further. I turned back to him. “What is that word? It’s the second time you’ve used it.”

“What, prole?” he scoffed. “It’s what you players call us non-players. The term was in common use before our exile. Don’t tell me it’s gone out of fashion?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea,” I said honestly.

Elron looked at me skeptically but let my comment pass uncontested. He did not, however, resume speaking.

“What about my other questions?” I asked, prompting him.

He glanced at me. “Such as?”

“Such as about Avery’s level. He is too high leveled, you know.” I shot him a sideways glance. “As are you.”

Elron laughed, his ire vanishing as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you—I think. I’ve been training since I was a boy. I joined the army young and have been in countless fights.” He shrugged. “I’ve been lucky enough to survive them all.”

It was my turn to look dubious. “And you’re saying Avery is like you?”

The marshal’s smile faded. “No, the magister is not the same. But before you ask what he is, I cannot tell you. I’ve told you too much as it is.”

I stared at him, trying to parse the meaning behind his words. “You’ve been ordered not to answer my questions,” I guessed.

He nodded.

“Then, why did you?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Elron hesitated. “I broke our agreement, and I shouldn’t have done that. I forced you to destroy that second seed at a grave risk to yourself. Consider this a small measure of recompense.”

“I knew what I was doing,” I said. “I could have refused you.”

The marshal smiled. “But you didn’t. And for that, you have my gratitude. You prevented many deaths, not just those of the men I would have lost today, but all those that would’ve followed had the void been allowed to continue its raids.” Elron met my gaze. “No matter what happens from here on out, I won’t forget what you’ve done.”

He fell silent then, and I let the conversation lapse. Elron had given me much to think about.

✵ ✵ ✵

A little later, Elron and I entered the inner city.

We’d resumed talking, but the marshal kept the conversation light and spoke only about nonconsequential things: what everyday life in New Haven was like and pointing out the sights. I didn’t try to steer him to more important matters—I wanted a better grasp of the city’s culture—and like any tourist, I craned my neck left and right as I grilled him about the shops, homes, and people we passed.

In a market square close to the city’s central fortresses, one shop in particular caught my attention, and I ground to a halt.

Elron trailed to a stop. “What is it?”

“That shop, do you know it?”

The marshal followed my gaze. “Master Gamil’s Bazaar of Antiques,” he said. “I do. What of it?”

“Can we go in?”

Indecision flickered across Elron’s face. “I was ordered to escort you directly to the council.”

“This won’t take long,” I said.

The marshal sighed. “Alright, but let’s make it quick.”

I was already in motion. Dashing towards the store, I tugged open the stained-glass door and strode through, then held it open for Elron, who followed more slowly. As the door swung shut, I turned around to study the shop.

The inside of the bazaar was dusty and somber. Floor-to-ceiling shelves marched in narrow rows from left to right, each overflowing with all manner of junk—antiques, I supposed the owner named them—but no customers walked the aisles. Elron and I were the only ones present.

A curtained doorway at the far end of the room parted, revealing an aging human.

“Gamil?” I asked, studying the hunched figure limping closer.

“That’s right,” he rasped as he drew to a stop before us. Holding himself upright with a cane that was as gnarled and ancient as he was, the shop owner squinted at us. “Soldiers,” he concluded. “Don’t get many of your lot here.”

“Master Gamil,” the marshal interjected. “It’s Elron.”

The old man leaned closer. “Ah, my boy, so it is. It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” Elron agreed.

“What can I do for you?” Gamil asked. “Have you come looking for more artifacts to—”

Stepping forward, Elron cut him off. “I’m not here as a customer, I’m afraid.” He gestured towards me. “It is my friend here who has taken an interest in your shop today.”

The shopkeeper turned my way. “I see. And what can I do for you, young fella? Forgive me, but you don’t look like a collector.”

I smiled. “Ordinarily, I’d agree. But your shop sign caught my eye.”

Gamil appeared confused. “My sign?”

I drew an object out of my backpack. “Yes. It’s etched with lines that bear a remarkable resemblance to the one on this.”

The shopkeeper’s head creaked downwards to stare at the mosaic tile in my hand. “Ah, now I understand. I have some more pieces like that somewhere.”

My eyes lit. “You do? Show me, please.”

Gamil swung around. “Come with me,” he ordered and shuffled off.

Elron and I followed in his wake, the marshal’s gaze darting from my face to the Emblem of the Reach I still held. Ignoring the silent question in his eyes, I kept my own gaze fastened on the slow-moving Gamil.

As we walked, the shopkeeper rambled on. “Did you know the placard above this store was first erected by my great-great-grandfather? He was its original owner. And those stone chits you’re looking for? They were amongst the first items he put on sale. Sadly though, there’s never been much interest. He sold less than a handful.”

“You have a lot of them then?” I asked eagerly.

“Oh, yes. An entire boxful.” Coming to a halt, the old shopkeeper raised his cane to tap a box on an upper shelf. “This here is it.”

Before he could ask, I reached up and pulled the box down.

“Thanks, my boy,” he said.

I barely heard him, my attention focused on the container’s contents. Gamil hadn’t been lying. The box was filled to the brim with dozens of mosaic tiles. Before I could let myself get too excited, I inspected a few.

The target is an enchanted mosaic tile and part of the Emblem of the Reach.

The target is an enchanted mosaic tile...

...

“They what you looking for?” the old man asked.

“Yes!” Upending the box, I sat down on the floor and sifted through the tiles. The ones in Gamil’s box were as irregularly shaped as those I’d found in the loot chests, and it took only a little bit of experimentation to figure out they fit together like puzzle pieces.

The shopkeeper grunted. “You won’t find whatever answers you’re searching for like that.”

Pausing, I looked up to find both Elron and Gamil peering down inquisitively at what I was doing. “Why not?”

“The puzzle’s incomplete. There’s a piece missing.”

I held up the two pieces I’d looted. “One of these might—”

He snorted. “They aren’t. It’s the center piece that’s absent. But don’t take my word for it. Go on and see for yourself.”

Bending my head back down, I did just that, ignoring Elron’s growing impatience.

✵ ✵ ✵

The old man was right.

Sitting back a few minutes later, I studied the nearly complete Emblem. The artifact was disk-shaped, and all told, was formed from twenty pieces—one of which was missing.

It turned out the box contained multiple duplicate tiles, and I could only imagine that over the years they had been discarded by players who had failed to complete the Emblem. Somehow, the pieces had found their way to Gamil and his ancestors.

Resting my palm on the Emblem, I felt out the round hole in the middle that—frustratingly—still needed to be filled. Without the missing piece, the artifact remained inert. Devoid of enchantments, it was just another pile of stone tiles.

I sighed. It seemed I wasn’t going to get the answers I desired. I traced the flowing lines etched across the emblem. “What is it?” I muttered.

“It’s a sigil,” Elron guessed.

I nodded slowly. That could very well be true but didn’t help me figure out what the Emblem did—what its purpose was. I glanced at Gamil. “Did you sell the center piece to anyone?”

He shook his head emphatically. “No. That tile has never been found. It always bugged my ancestor that he couldn’t complete the puzzle. He searched high and low for it, but if that piece ever reached the city, it never fell into my kin’s hands.”

I hung my head in disappointment. “So, you have no idea where to find it?”

“None.”

I gestured back to the puzzle. “How much for these then?” Not counting pieces I’d already found, I needed seventeen pieces from Gamil’s collection.

The old man didn’t answer immediately. “What’s your interest in the tiles? As interesting as I find them, they are admittedly only bits of dead history. Relics of a bygone era and of interest to no one except—”

He broke off abruptly.

I smiled. Gamil might be old, but he wasn’t stupid, and I could see understanding dawning in his eyes.

“You a player, boy?” he asked.

“I am.”

The old man’s eyes darted sideways, seeking confirmation from the marshal.

Elron nodded.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Gamil whistled. “In that case, come round back. I have a few more items that may spark your interest.”