Grand Game 423: A Favor (Patreon)

I didn’t end up witnessing the oaths of all two thousand soldiers.

After the first hour—during which I only managed to accept the pledges of fifty of the warband’s most senior officers—I’d made my excuses and left Algar and Ghost to see to the rest of the ceremony.

Neither could welcome the remaining soldiers into the faction on my behalf, but Ghost could still judge their truthfulness, and for now, that mattered most.

Promising Algar to see things through to completion when I rejoined him at the archlich’s court, I said my goodbyes to Nyra and Ghost, then pulled the city councilors aside.

Shooting me curious glances, the four followed me into the vacant room I led them into. I closed the door behind me, and the sound of the courtyard and the still-ongoing ceremony faded.

“What is it?” Elron asked. “Is something wrong?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I have a favor to ask.”

The councilors exchanged glances. “A favor?” Lorn ventured.

I nodded. “But before I get to it, what did you think of Algar’s speech?”

Gamil frowned. “It was irresponsible,” he said, tight-lipped. “The boy does not understand the risks we must balance.”

“Algar can sometimes be a little… impulsive,” Elron added. “It is something you will have to watch for.”

I grinned. “I don’t know how much good that will do. I, too, have been accused of behaving recklessly a time or two.” My smile faded. “Still, he is right, you know. You’re subjecting your people to a half-life by staying in the dungeon. This gorge is not large enough for the city to flourish, and if you remain, New Haven will turn insular. At some point, you must leave.”

“Is that why you’ve called us here?” Stormhammer asked. “To convince us to leave? Because we already know—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I mentioned Algar’s speech only to remind you that New Haven cannot continue where it left off and resume life as normal.” I held each councilor’s gaze in turn. “You will have to begin preparing for the day of your eventual exodus from the dungeon.”

All four nodded. “There is sense to what you say,” Elron said, “and it’s no more than we’ve agreed amongst ourselves.” He paused. “But what does this have to do with your favor?”

“Only this.” I inhaled. “I can help you prepare. But to do that, I will have to bring people into the dungeon—people who may find themselves in need of a safe haven from the Game, at least temporarily.” I smiled lopsidedly. “Hence the favor.”

“What! You want to bring outsiders here?” Gamil exclaimed. “After you just gave your word to keep New Haven secret?”

“I didn’t promise that,” I corrected gently. “I promised not to reveal the location of the hidden portal without the council’s approval.”

The two were not synonymous. I couldn’t see how New Haven and the dungeon’s existence could remain secret anyway—what with two thousand of their former residents out and about in the world. Sooner or later, someone would let something slip. Still, while word of the dungeon might get out, no one, not even a Power, would be able to enter.

Not without knowing where the hidden portal was.

“What if…” I continued. “What if I could bring those seeking refuge into Draven’s Reach without them learning the location of the portal? Would you help them then?”

Doing so would be difficult but not impossible, I thought, especially when it came to non-players.

“Who are these refugees?” Lorn asked.

“Mostly non-players. Humans, gnomes—” I paused—“and wolves.”

“Wolves?” Stormhammer asked, his bushy brows shooting up.

“You said mostly,” Gamil interjected before I could answer the thane. “Who else do you intend on bringing?”

“To transport the refugees here, I will have to reveal the portal’s location to at least one other player,” I reluctantly explained.

“Why?” Elron asked.

“I am no mage,” I replied simply. “I’ll need a practiced spellcaster to open a portal and protect the non-players from the nether while we affect the transfer.” I held up my hand, forestalling their protest. “The individual in question is someone I trust implicitly. Believe me, I have shared secrets of greater importance with her already—secrets that would see every Power in the Game hunt me more vigorously than they would your city.”

For a moment, the councilors said nothing, but from their expressions, I could see they were giving my request serious consideration.

“Where would you settle these… refugees?” Lorn asked finally.

I shrugged. “In New Haven or the archlich’s court. Wherever it is, I ask that you be willing to trade and aid them.”

The four exchanged another round of glances before withdrawing into a huddle. Doing my best not to listen, I waited patiently.

Eventually, they broke apart, and Lorn stepped forward to address me. “We will allow it,” he pronounced.

I inclined my head gratefully. “Thank you.”

✵ ✵ ✵

I left New Haven shortly after that.

I had a long journey ahead of me, and given the delays I’d already encountered, I doubted I would reach the guardian by morning. Still, I pushed hard. Scaling the sheer gorge walls enclosing the city, I jogged southeast across the plateau. While I ran, I considered the events of the last few days.

Much had changed since I’d entered the city.

I’d gone into New Haven with my path certain. I’d intended on kickstarting the city’s exodus, securing the loan of a thousand soldiers, then returning to Draven to see if he’d succeeded, and finally, departing the dungeon for the wolves’ valley with my warband in tow.

Now, I was no longer certain things would pan out that way.

I’d gotten both more and less than I’d bargained for in New Haven. I’d not expected the New Haveners to choose to remain in Draven’s Reach. I’d hoped instead to settle them in the wolves’ valley after I claimed the sector, thereby forging a long-term alliance with the former denizens of the dungeon.

But there was no denying the council’s decision offered different opportunities. With the New Haveners choosing to stay, Draven’s Reach became not just a potential training ground but also a refuge for my allies. And considering the sector was now nearly unassailable, it made sense to alter my plans…

Then there were the possessed. I’d had big plans for them too, but after Regus’ report, I knew I could not trust them as they were, leaving me no choice but to forge them anew or…

… destroy them entirely.

The future was in flux, and what course I chartered next would depend heavily on whether Draven had succeeded and what Adriel had to say about my plans to deal with the possessed. With only these heavy thoughts for company, I jogged doggedly across the barren terrain.

Hours later, exhausted, I collapsed and slept fitfully, but no more than for a couple of hours. Then, I was back up and running again.   Twice more, I repeated the feat until finally, around late afternoon of my thirty-second day in the dungeon, I reached my destination.

✵ ✵ ✵

As I slipped into the dungeon’s large central valley, former den of the void tree and the harbinger, and now home only to Draven and the safe zone, I spied the centaur’s unmissable frame in the distance.

Draven was turned away, so I couldn’t see his face, but sitting cross-legged at his feet was a small figure.

Good, Adriel’s got here before me.

Letting my gaze drift from the pair, I searched for a third figure as I jogged closer. But the landscape was otherwise empty. I frowned. Did that mean the guardian’s search for Ceruvax had ended in failure?

Damn, I was really hoping—

Seeming to sense something in the air, the seated figure jerked upright and spun around. His eyes narrowed while my own flared in shock. It wasn’t Adriel.

It was an older man with graying hair, a face seamed with age, wiry limbs, and ancient shadowed eyes. His back was unbent, and in his left hand, he carried a staff that topped his own six feet of height. If I hadn’t known better, I would have believed it was the Wolf Prime himself I was seeing.

But I did know better. “Ceruvax,” I murmured.

Even across the distance that separated us, he heard. “Young pup,” he growled. “I should have known…”

In the wake of the envoy’s words, a Game alert dropped into my mind.

You have completed the task: Find the last Wolf Envoy! You have rescued Ceruvax from the dungeon in which he has languished for centuries and in a manner most extraordinary. Thanks to your efforts, not only has House Wolf been gifted with a valuable asset, but none of the Powers who have wasted lifetimes hunting the envoy realize he’s escaped. Your House remains hidden and continues to grow under your leadership! Well done, scion!

Wolf is pleased, and your Wolf Mark has deepened.

My lips curved upward in a smile. I’d found Wolf’s envoy! After all this time, I’d finally completed the task, the oldest on my list.

And for a change, something’s gone right!

My eyes flickered to the guardian, but he hadn’t turned around. I frowned. Why hasn’t he—? I broke off, finally realizing what the guardian’s stillness meant.

He’d gone back to sleep.

I exhaled a troubled breath. Somehow, I didn’t think Draven would be slumbering unless the need was great. Searching for Ceruvax must have exhausted him. Despite this, the guardian had still honored the boon he had owed me.

I would strive just as hard on his behalf, I vowed. I would find his lost brethren and restore them. Someday soon. I turned back to Ceruvax. The envoy was still watching me through lidded eyes. I quickened my pace.

We had much to talk about.