Grand Game 425: An Exchange of Tales (Patreon)

“Where do you want me to start?” I asked.

“At the very beginning,” Ceruvax replied. “From the first day you entered the Game.”

I winced. Relaying my tale was going to take even longer than I expected, but I didn’t begrudge the envoy his desire to know everything. I was going to ask a lot of Ceruvax in the coming days, and before I did that, I knew I had to win his trust.

Which might not be so easy once the envoy learned the things I’d done. Or not done.

Still, there could be no half-truths today. House Wolf’s survival would depend as much on the old wolf as me, and I would not weaken the House’s foundations with lies.

“Before we begin, can I analyze you?” I asked.

“Go ahead,” he said, unbothered by the request.

The target is Ceruvax, a level 299 were-mage and human. He bears the Wolf Mark: pack-hunter.

I wanted to frown, finding his lack of Marks damning, but I kept my face impassive. “I thought you were an envoy,” I said neutrally.

“I was,” Ceruvax replied softly.

“Was?”

He met my gaze. “My Prime is dead,” he said sadly.

I blinked. “And so…”

“I lost Atiras’ Mark that day, becoming unSworn,” he confirmed.

This time, I couldn’t hold back my frown. “But you have no Power Mark. Shouldn’t you—”

Ceruvax laughed, his voice full of old bitterness. “I’m not one of the fortunate few who can evolve, wolf lord. I’m not sure what it is like these days in the Game, but in my day, those who could not evolve were looked down upon. Atiras was different, and he made me his envoy regardless.”

“I see. And your level?” I asked delicately.

“I will never reach level three hundred,” Ceruvax said, confirming my suspicion. “The Game won’t allow me to advance further.” He exhaled, seeming to expel old frustrations as he did. “But enough of my own history. Begin your tale, please.”

I hesitated, glancing from Draven to Ceruvax. It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder before, but… how could I be certain of the old wolf’s identity? After all, the guardian wasn’t around to confirm his tale.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing something amiss.

I met his eyes. “How do I know you are who you say you are?” I asked bluntly, deciding to be forthright.

He chuckled, thinking I was joking—only for his amusement to fade when I didn’t smile back. “You are serious?”

I nodded.

Ceruvax snorted. “House Marks are nearly impossible to forge, and I saw your own Mark too, something no one not of Wolf could do.”

“Nearly impossible is not the same as impossible,” I murmured, and being able to see my Mark only means you’re a Wolf, not that you are who you claim to be.” I had not forgotten the werewolves working for the Triumvirate in Nexus.

“Hmpf. That is paranoid, even for someone steeped in deception.” He shook his head. “I am no Loken, believe me.”

I winced.

The old wolf noticed. “What, don’t tell me you’ve run across the Betrayer?” he demanded harshly.

“If by the Betrayer you mean Loken, then yes.” And wasn’t that an interesting name for the Shadow Power? “Several times, actually. He seems to have taken an interest in me.”

Ceruvax’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not good.”

“I know.”

He fell silent for a moment. “Alright, I take back what I said earlier. If Loken has you in his sights, you’re not nearly paranoid enough,” he said grimly.

I laughed involuntarily.

If the old wolf was an actor, he was a good one. And truth be told, I liked him, but sharing the entirety of who I was was not something I did lightly—with anyone. In fact, I could count on one hand the people who knew everything about me, and if I was going to add Ceruvax to that list…

“A Pact,” he said suddenly.

“What?” I asked, looking at him in surprise.

“You’re a Power now.” Ceruvax smiled. “If a baby one. I propose we enter into a time-limited Pact of truthfulness, with both of us committing to speak no lies. That way, the Adjudicator will stand witness to our words, and we can both be certain of the other’s truthfulness. Will that suit you?”

I grinned. “It will indeed.”

✵ ✵ ✵

You have sealed a Pact with Ceruvax. For the next 4 hours, he and you will speak no falsehoods.

The terms of the Pact were simple enough, and while it did not guarantee Ceruvax and I would provide full and complete answers, it did ensure that there would be no lies exchanged.

“I will begin,” the old wolf said. “I am Ceruvax,” he declared, “former envoy of Atiras and loyal scion of House Wolf.”

My suspicions had already dissipated after Ceruvax’s proposal of a Pact. Still, I sat easier as his words went uncontested by the Game.

“And I am Michael, wolf lord, wolf protector, voidstealer, and leader of the Forerunners faction.”

Ceruvax’s eyebrows shot up. “Voidstealer. Is that your Class?”

“Correct.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” he admitted.

Taking my time, I describe the Class to him.

“You’ve done well,” he said when I finished. “Better than I expected you to have, to be honest.” He shook his head ruefully. “From mindstalker to voidstealer, that is a big leap and an achievement most scions would be proud of—even in my day.”

I inclined my head. “Thank you.”

“Now, do you want to go first? Or should I?”

“You, please.” I grinned. “I suspect your own story will be shorter.”

“Very well. I assume you already know about the fall of the ancients?” Seeing my nod, Ceruvax continued, “Atiras was one of the first to foresee the danger, so unlike many other Houses, House Wolf was prepared.”

He sighed. “Or so we thought. Not even Atiras realized how deeply the rot had spread or how quickly scions would abandon their Houses in favor of becoming Forcesworn.” He waved his hand irritably. “I won’t bore you with all the details of our defeat, but suffice it to say, one day, while on a mission for the Prime, I was ambushed in Nexus by a group of so-called Shadowsworn. I managed to escape, but only by fleeing into a nearby dungeon.”

“Scharlach,” I said.

“Yes, this was still early in the war, and at the time, the new Powers were concentrating their efforts on fighting the Primes within the Kingdom, so the Shadowsworn didn’t pursue me into the dungeon. Unfortunately for me, Scharlach has only one portal, which serves as both entrance and exit.”

“They blockaded the portal?”

“They did.” Ceruvax laughed. “I’m sure they didn’t anticipate any trouble hunting down a weak-blood like me once they dealt with the bigger threats they considered other scions to be. But Scharlach is huge, almost as large as the minotaur maze, and they erred in giving me time to prepare.” He bared his teeth. “Then, too, scions have been underestimating me my entire life, and I was neither as weak nor as easy a prey as the Shadow scum expected.”

His expression sobered. “Not even I imagined I would evade capture this long, though.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Or that I would survive my Prime’s fall. But as trying as these past centuries have been, I’m grateful I survived. I will get to see House Wolf reborn—soon, hopefully.”

“I wish for the same,” I said, echoing his sentiment.

Ceruvax shook himself. “That’s my tale, in brief. One day, perhaps, I will give you the longer version.” He leaned forward intently. “Now, tell me your own story. How did it begin?”

“In the Dark,” I said with a lopsided grin. “And with a Power named Erebus…”

✵ ✵ ✵

For the next four hours, I spoke nearly non-stop, taking Ceruvax through every aspect of my journey through the Game. Four hours were not enough, especially when the former envoy kept interrupting.

…

“It saddens me to hear the dire wolves have diminished so,” he murmured at one point. “But you say they still have Atiras’ astral rings?”

I nodded emphatically.

The rings were the means I had used to enter the Mind Trial, and I’d made certain to mention them to Ceruvax. The former Prime’s artifacts were vital to my own plans, and I planned on returning to the subject of them when Adriel finally joined us. Where is she? I wondered in passing.

“That is good,” Ceruvax mumbled half under his breath, unaware of my own musings. “I wonder if the other artifacts survived too…”

…

From there, the conversation moved on to the Awakened Dead. Surprisingly, Erebus’ dungeon did not intrigue Ceruvax as much as it had Loken. Nor did the Tartan legion or the wolves’ valley, for that matter.

…

“Foolish of you,” he muttered when I told him of my attempt to cross the walls around Nexus’ safe zone, but he forbore further comment.

…

The arctic wolves elicited another comment. “They’re in the guardian tower? How did they end up there?”

I shrugged, having no answer myself.

…

The old gnome, Cyren, drew Ceruvax’s interest too.

“You don’t know if he is alone in his views on the ancients?” he asked. “Or if there are others who share similar… hopes?”

I shook my head. “It’s an avenue I’ve been meaning to pursue further,” I said. “But I’ve not had the chance to return to Nexus yet.”

…

“A forsworn!” the former envoy exclaimed when I mentioned Safyre. “How curious. Did you analyze her?”

“I didn’t,” I said. “But what does that matter? I know her level and Class.”

“Her level is of no consequence, and her Class, while important, doesn’t count as much as her Marks do. She forswore her Power, but what about her ties to the Forces? Do they remain in place?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Was her class a Forcesworn one?”

Again, I had to deny knowing.

“What about this Kesh, you say, she shelters more forsworn?”

“She does.”

Ceruvax’s eyes narrowed. “There is an opportunity there…”

…

Unsurprisingly, it was Loken on whom Ceruvax fixated the most.

I told him everything I knew about the Shadow Power. The old wolf listened attentively, his expression uniformly grim throughout—except when I described how I had tricked the trickster.

“Now, what I wouldn’t have given to be there for that,” he said, a big grin splitting his face. “Being fooled by a young wolf must have been a bitter pill for the Betrayer to swallow.”

“Why do you keep calling him that?” I asked with a fond smile of my own at the memory.

Ceruvax’s mirth died. “Have you heard of Serpent House?”

I shook my head.

“They were a powerful House. One that delighted in shrouding itself in mystery as much as Wolf did. But despite how close-mouthed the House was about their affairs, they were not able to keep word spreading of one of their rising stars… Loken.”

I sat up, my curiosity piqued. Loken had been born into a House?

“The feats he was rumored to have accomplished,” Ceruvax continued, “the dungeons he was said to have completed, and the foes he’d purportedly vanquished, all of it left little doubt in the minds of the Houses that one day Loken would ascend to Primehood. In fact, many believed he would become the strongest incarnation of Serpent yet and carry his House into greatness.”

Ceruvax bowed his head, lost in his memories.

“Then what happened?” I prompted.

“Loken slaughtered his entire House,” he said bluntly. “No one knows how he managed the feat, but there is no doubt he did it, killing everyone from the lowliest scion to the Prime herself.”

My brows drew down. There was a coldness in Loken. I’d seen it myself, but to murder an entire House? “Is that why he is called the Betrayer?” I asked when Ceruvax said nothing further.

“What? No. A scion slaughtering members of his own House, while frowned upon, was not exactly unheard of. No, what Loken did was worse. Much worse…”

Once more, Ceruvax fell silent. This time, I waited patiently for him to go on.

“He rejected their blood memories,” the old wolf whispered finally. “The dead’s, I mean. In so doing, he doomed the fallen scions to wander the Game forever and left the bloodline badly crippled.”

I contemplated Ceruvax’s words. A dead scion was not free. I had bound myself to House Wolf for all eternity and, after final death, would serve the House still—assuming another living scion accepted my spirit essence. What would it mean for me if it wasn’t? I shivered. Nothing good, I can imagine.

“Why did Loken do it?” I asked softly. “Why did he reject certain Primehood?”

“No one knows,” Ceruvax said bleakly. “But on the day that he did, the rebellion began. You see, it was Loken who led the uprising against the Primes.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Understandably, there was a lull in the conversation after that, but sooner than I was ready, Ceruvax waved me on, just as if he’d revealed nothing momentous, which, from his perspective, I suppose he hadn’t.

It was ancient history to him, after all.

…

Afterward, we spoke of the twins, Teresa and Terence. Ceruvax was keenly interested in both. “Cats,” he muttered. “You’re sure that’s what she said?”

I nodded. He was referring to the bloodline Sulan claimed the twins sprang from.

“I must meet this Sulan too…”

…

“The chalice is important,” Ceruvax pronounced when I described the artifact Loken had asked me to steal. “You will have to get it.”

He refused to say more on the matter, though.

…

The werewolves were another topic Ceruvax had surprisingly little to say on. “You must bind them to you, of course,” he said. “But it is the Wolf Torc that is more important.”

“What about the combat trial?” I asked, raising one eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I attempt it?”

He eyed me carefully. “I’m not sure that will be a good idea.” He paused. “But gaining access to their keep will be valuable. If the sea fortress still stands as you say it does, some of the lycan guard’s equipment must’ve survived the looting.”

…

Ceruvax had nothing to say about the bounty hunters guild, nothing at all, and he ventured not a single comment when I’d relayed my now-defunct plans to use them to capture the wolves’ valley.

An altogether different group from Nexus drew his interest.

“The stygian brotherhood,” he mused. “They did not exist in my day... And you say they are experts on the nether? You must meet this Huntmistress Kartara.”

…

“A Prime trapped in Sickening Ooze. It can’t be Pestilence Prime, though.”

“But—” I began in protest.

“I know for a fact he was slain early on,” Ceruvax interjected. “Someone else must have taken refuge there. But who?”

…

Finally, I reached the last leg of my tale and began describing the groups I’d encountered in Draven’s Reach. As I expected, he found the dungeon’s potential as intriguing as I did.

“You’re right,” Ceruvax agreed. “Draven’s Reach is the perfect base for House Wolf, especially with the city, New Haven, to provide any resources we need. But what about this group called the possessed? You haven’t said much of them at all.”

I opened my mouth, ready to dig into the subject.

The time allotted to your Pact with Ceruvax has expired. Your Pact is closed!

“Ah,” I said, stifling a yawn. Glancing at Ceruvax, I saw his own eyes were turned inward. He, too, had received the notice from the Adjudicator.

“Let’s renew the Pact for another hour,” I suggested. “There is not much more left to my story.”

He shook his head. “You’re tired, you should rest. We can pick this up in the morning. I’ll keep watch.” He paused. “Assuming you trust me to stand guard?”

I rose to my feet. “Of course.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said, rising himself. “There is just one more thing to do then.”

I looked at him questioningly.

Going down on a bent knee, the old wolf placed his hand in mine. “Wolf lord,” he said formally, “I offer you my unconditional loyalty. From this day onward, I will serve only you.”

Ceruvax, a level 299 were-mage, has offered you unquestioning obedience. He will follow any instructions you issue, both inside and out of combat, and in exchange, he asks for nothing. This Pact will terminate on your final death.

Do you accept Ceruvax’s offer?

Ignoring the hanging Game message, I stared at the old wolf. “Are you sure you want to do this now? There are parts of my tale you must still hear.”

“I’m sure,” Ceruvax said, waving aside my protest. “I’ve heard more than enough to convince me that you are the right one to lead House Wolf.” He shook his head ruefully. “You’ve accomplished more in a few short months than I managed in centuries.”

“You were stuck in a dungeon,” I pointed out.

“So, were you,” he retorted mildly. “But you got out. I didn’t.”

It wasn’t the same thing. I didn’t belabor the point, though. “Your oath is too open-ended,” I said instead. “It grants me too much power over you.”

“Necessary power,” he argued.

I began to shake my head, but he stopped me. “I understand your restraint, Michael, and with respect to other players, I even applaud it.” He held my gaze. “But I have served House Wolf for over a thousand years. There can be no half-measures to my service. Besides, I hope to be your envoy one day, as I was Atiras’. For that to happen, you must trust me unconditionally. I must be an extension of your will, no more.”

He paused. “I cannot claim to know well yet, but I believe I am right about this much: you will not trust me as you must unless you bind me strongly.”

I exhaled softly. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am,” he said unflinchingly.

“Alright, then,” I said gravely. “In that case, I gladly accept your service, Ceruvax.”

You have sealed a Pact with Ceruvax, and he has been sworn into your service as a follower. Total followers: 2 / 100.

Commander ability triggered.

You have passed on the secret blood (lesser) trait and 3 attributes to your new follower. Your Magic has decreased to rank 40.

As a result of his new status, Ceruvax’s spirit signature has been etched with a new Mark. He now bears the Mark of Michael!