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  "Perhaps, but we've called them off. A civil war would weaken Stronghold past the point of recovery. It's in everybody's best interests to play along for now."

  I worked my jaw. A devout, priest-led coup would likely come with stringent changes. The zealots would outlaw drinking and cursing. They might go as far as banishing mystics from the city entirely. The priests had replaced the saints and the crusaders had replaced the city watch. Guidance and policing all in one.

  "What are they doing with the Eye?" I asked.

  "Nothing as drastic as what happened last time," said Peter.

  Loras grunted. "Tannen won't allow the pagans to sack the city. The Eye is just his appropriation of command." Their faces were dark.

  "You're lamenting your loss of the city," I said, "but you're forgetting something I've already told you. Stronghold, Haven—they're not yours anymore."

  Saint Loras creased his brow. Peter wasn't as defiant. He'd seen the transition firsthand. Had a longer time to marinate on new paradigms. And, if I'd pegged him right, he was a bit more open-minded. For a saint, anyway.

  Loras took in a slow breath, curling his lips as a thought amused him. "I wouldn't celebrate our ousting just yet, Talon. Don't forget that we've called a truce with you. Do you think the good bishop will be as kind?"

  I snorted. "What's he gonna do?"

  "That depends on what he wants. And right now, the only thing I can guarantee he wants, besides the absolute destruction of the pagans, is the dragonspear."

  I looked at him gravely. "Why?"

  "He wants to lead Stronghold, but he also wants to be its Protector."

  "He can't do that, can he? I'm the Protector."

  "The bearer of the spear is the Protector."

  "It's more than that," added Saint Peter. "Wearing the mantle of Protector is no doubt a great honor, but I fear he wishes to use the relic for something more disastrous."

  "Peter..." warned Loras. The chided saint swallowed and faced the floor.

  I searched their faces. "What?"

  "Ridiculous speculation is not why we're here," insisted Saint Loras. "We've told you what the bishop wants. Whether or not an NPC can actually wear a mantle is irrelevant. When he comes for it, Talon, will you give him the spear?"

  "Hell no."

  "Then we'd better come up with a response."

  Wild scrambling caught our attention below. We all leaned over the battlements to see Kyle weaving between groups of squatters.

  "Help!" he yelled. "Hurry! Open the doors!"

  A block behind him, a score of black-clad crusaders pursued, swords drawn.

  "I've got to let him in," I said.

  "And we need go," hurried Loras. "We can't draw undue suspicion on ourselves. Peter?"

  Saint Peter blinked out first, followed by Saint Loras. As I was about to hit the staircase, the warded door of Dragonperch swung open. Izzy must've heard Kyle's call. I continued watching from above. The men and women in the streets hassled Kyle and gave him trouble as he passed, alternately clearing the way for the crusaders. But, although they gained on him, Kyle beat them and zoned inside. The heavy door swung closed before the knights arrived.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and simultaneously pondered how unfair what I'd just witnessed was. Kyle was a player, unable to use combat in town. That sounds like a fine rule with honest police. But when the crusaders were acting as town guards and looked ready to kill, well, that complicated things quite a bit. Who polices the police?

  The knights below reached the door and ordered us to open up. That wasn't happening, of course, so they grew more irate. One of them was reckless enough to slam his sword into the warded wood. A blue flash threw him on his ass. His allies stared at the smoking rune with equal parts awe and distrust. We were clearly safe for the time being.

  But safe wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I was unfamiliar with the politics of Shorehome, but their leadership transition had been peaceful. Stronghold, on the other hand, was occupied by an overpowering force. And here I was, the Protector of the city, outmanned and outgunned.

  It didn't matter. I couldn't sit idly by and watch everything go to shit.

  Even if I was the only one who could fight, I was determined to do it. What had the saints called for? A plan of attack. That sounded all right by me. I hurried down the stairs to find out what Kyle could tell us.

  0880 Revelations

  We met halfway on the steps before I grumbled and realized they were headed to the war room. That was what we were meeting about, more or less. War. A plan of attack. I turned around and hiked back up the stairs, happy that minor physical tasks weren't a strain in Haven the same way they might be in the real world.

  "First thing's first," I said as we spread out around the table. I sent Kyle a party invite and he accepted.

  "Oh yeah," he said. "I bet I lost a lot of XP while you guys quested out to Shorehome."

  "Nothing we didn't lose ourselves when we died."

  Izzy sucked her teeth. "At this rate we'll never hit level 10."

  "What happened out there, Kyle?"

  His face slackened. "Bad news bears, bros. My disguise worked great, but once it wore off I was stuck. Bishop Tannen has crusaders patrolling the streets."

  "Are they Big Brother now?" said Izzy with a snort.

  "I dunno. They're not really hassling people much."

  "They took over for the city watch," I explained. "I had a powwow with the saints on the roof just now. It seems the good bishop stole the Eye of Orik and assumed command of Stronghold. The saints and the watch are staying out of the way for now."

  "That's stupid," said Izzy. "Why?"

  "To avoid all-out war. They believe a temporary peace will serve the people better."

  "And look better to investors from the outside," she muttered.

  "Nailed it," said Kyle.

  I chuckled. "That's probably right."

  Izzy exhaled sharply. "Wait a minute. Why'd he have to risk his neck out there if you could've just chatted with the saints?"

  "Give the brewmaster some credit," said Kyle, leaning against the war table. "This kind of recon required eyes on the ground."

  Izzy huffed and sank into her chair. "I can't wait till this Call of Duty phase is over."

  "It's no phase. And believe me, CoD brings better experience to the table than your Candy Crush high scores."

  Her eyes pointed like daggers. "Care to back up that challenge in the Arena?"

  "You realize that right now I technically have more XP than either of you?"

  Her face darkened as she realized the truth. We'd all died at level 9. Difference was, it had been a few days since Kyle's lockdown. He could've picked up a pittance of experience doing any number of things around town and be ahead of us. We were still at the level floor.

  "Let's get back on track," I said, habitually rapping my spear against the floor. "What did you find out, Kyle?"

  He sidled into his chair, leaned back, and wrapped his hands behind his neck as he smiled. "Well, Trafford confirmed what you already said. Tannen is the new leader of Stronghold. But the way I heard it, there was no violence. The saints are still working hand in hand with the catechists to keep the town running smoothly."

  "There's no way," I said. "That has to just be the public face they're putting on the takeover. They can't have players revealing the loss of the core city on Everchat."

  "There's more. The crusaders are putting overtime into recruiting efforts. Front Street has crusaders up and down looking for fresh soldiers to assist the war effort."

  I frowned. "We knew that too. Lash joined them days ago."

  "What's next, genius?" mocked Izzy with a disparaging eye roll.

  "Don't rush me," he returned. "Um, the city watch is still active, but they've been relegated to helper roles. They still man the walls and watch the gate, but no more street work. They staff the jail but the policing and charging is now handled by the crusaders."

  We scratched our heads a
nd pondered the news. "Could be useful. Maybe. With any luck, the city watch is still on our side."

  "That's the bad news. Gladius is one of the occupants of the newly overcrowded jail."

  "What?" exclaimed Izzy. "He's the head of the city watch!"

  "Tell me about it," said Kyle. "Apparently, Gladius didn't mobilize against the crusaders or anything like that, but he spoke his mind quite a bit and Tannen wasn't having it."

  "What a dick," I said. "Who's in charge of the watch now?"

  "Some priest is all I know. Another NPC from Oakengard."

  "Not even a local," spat Izzy. "Cronyism at its worst."

  "Is that like Bronyism?" asked Kyle. " 'Cause that's pretty awful."

  "What?" replied Izzy, confused.

  "Kyle's just trying to act cool after the Monster Squad debacle," I said. "Ignore him."

  His face deflated. "That movie didn't age well at all."

  "You get anything else from your close call?"

  He puckered up. "Yeah, actually. Two things. One is some of the quests have been updated on the down low. Trafford's a questkeeper so he stays on top of those things. You know, he'd never admit it with crusaders around, but they make him nervous. He's been dealing their pagan quests without problem, but now worries that something's going on."

  "Like what?"

  "See for yourself. Check your quest log."

  I twisted my lips and went to the menu.

  Dethrone the Wild King

  Quest Type: Fetch

  Reward: Unknown

  To dethrone the wild king, turn his crown in to the Bishop of Stronghold.

  "He changed the terms of the quest," trilled Izzy.

  The "Bishop of Stronghold." I rapped my fingers on the table. "He wants the crown for himself..."

  Izzy snorted. "Are you high? That's a pagan artifact."

  "You saw Vagram's insistence about it at the crags, didn't you?"

  "Yes, but that was so he could make sure it was destroyed. It was obvious to anyone with sense that you were having second thoughts."

  I blinked innocently. I thought I'd worn a brave face about it. "It has to be more than that. He wants the crown for himself."

  "Or he wants to stop the wild king from having it," offered Kyle.

  "Then the original quest terms to destroy it would've been enough, right? He wants the mantle. There's no other explanation."

  The three of us stared at the table, but Tannen's workings weren't obvious. We were butting up against game elements unready for prime time. The titan, the dragonspear, the mantle, the sanctum—even our levels were above what the beta had been intended for. But Bishop Tannen, being an AI, likely knew the game mechanics intimately. Even the wild king seemed to have a better idea of the crown's potential than I did. I didn't doubt for a second that Vagram saw it too.

  "You said there was something else," mentioned Izzy. "Two more things from Trafford. What's number two?"

  "Yes!" Kyle's eyes lit up. "This one's good news for a change, but maybe not so important for now. While I was hiding out in Trafford's shop, I mentioned the sanctum master panel to him." We leaned forward expectantly. "He doesn't know much about sanctums but has heard of them. He confirmed there's a book in the Great Library about them written by Master Abodin."

  "Now we're getting somewhere," said Izzy. "Did you find it?"

  Kyle blinked dumbly. "Find what?"

  "The book!"

  "Oh, sorry, I thought I made that clear. I never made it as far as the Pleasure Gardens. The crusaders caught me on the way and I had to book it back here."

  "That's"—Izzy jutted her indigo lips out—"disappointing."

  I shifted in my chair. "Anyone have more information to share?"

  "Nope," reported Kyle.

  "Izzy? You didn't find anything in Dragonperch's tomes?"

  She shook her head, still in thought.

  "Okay."

  We sat there in silence, unsure how to punctuate the proceedings. Izzy and Kyle both looked impatient for different reasons. I probably did too, but it was just nerves. Everything was moving so fast that I was worried about missing something. I idly scrolled through my menu to double-check everything when I saw the direct messages from Dune that had come in over the last couple of days.

  2 Days Ago...

  Talon,

  Don't forget the Wicked Crow tonight. I'll buy you a pint.

  - Dune

  1 Day Ago...

  Talon,

  Kyle told me you left Stronghold again. Things aren't pretty around the Forum. The black knights are pushing their weight around. I'm doing my best to stay out of trouble, but we need you here ASAP. Get back to me.

  - Dune

  Damn. The ranger had been more prescient about the city's troubles than I had. Protector, my ass. I wondered if things would've played out different had I never left on Tannen's quest. It was hard to say.

  I couldn't reply back to Dune on lockdown. The workaround was having Kyle send him a message for me, but I didn't want Dune swinging by with the crusaders downstairs. To be honest, it was getting harder and harder to think by the hour.

  I snapped out of my reverie, jumped to my feet, and stretched my back. The others cast distracted glances at my sudden movement, but were likewise lost in their heads.

  I moved to the window. The sun had gone down without me even noticing. A few knights waved torches as they inspected the area. I decided to put Dune off another day.

  "It's been a long day," I announced, rubbing tired eyes. "I don't know about you, but I could use a shower. Let's marinate on ideas tonight and agree on a plan of attack in the morning. There's no getting around the twenty-four-hour lockdown, and it'd be hard to do anything with those crusaders milling about down there anyways."

  "Good deal," said Kyle. His chair squeaked against the floor and he kicked to his feet. "Now I'm making nachos." Izzy hissed and shuffled out, leaving Kyle with a heavy sigh. "I don't get it. Am I the only one who didn't forget about Taco Tuesday?"

  I smiled and gazed out the window. "Go on, Kyle. You deserve it."

  He went to work in the kitchen, but I was busy pondering how dangerous my town had become. I strained to focus on the Circus in the distance. The hammering of the construction project continued into the night, but the area was too dark to make out.

  0890 Hide & Sneak

  I'd expected a fitful time in bed but rest came easy that night. Something about hiking and camping in the wilderness for days that made the plush mattress hypnotizing. It rejuvenated me, body and soul.

  By morning Oldtown was back to its usual self. At least, its usual self of the last few days. Drifters still loitered below, but the black-clad knights were nowhere in sight. With any luck they were busy with security elsewhere in town.

  Afternoon struck with a whimper. An uneventful day seemingly continued. The harbinger of change, of course, was the expiration of our lockdown timers. The three of us gritted our teeth and headed into the new and improved Stronghold (now with 100% more bishops!).

  The plan we'd come up with wasn't a nuanced one, but it would send a message: Take the Eye of Orik back from Tannen. We'd kill him if we had to, but the soulstone was the priority. Getting the city back under saintly control would start the swing of momentum back to the good guys.

  That said, recovering the Eye wouldn't solve all our problems. The city was under saintly control when the crusaders assumed command in the first place. If they took it once, they could take it again. But that had been against an unawares populace, before the ramifications of their presence were realized. More to the point, the Protector of Stronghold had been temporarily kicked off the chess board. With the dragonspear added to the city watch's might, I was confident we could stall the advance of any opposing force.

  And therein lay the single wrinkle in an otherwise straightforward fight. I knew the saints would back my play, but to guarantee the loyalty of the city watch, we had to talk to Gladius. We were hoping his men would listen to him eve
n though they were the ones keeping him under lock and key. Ironically, that played in our favor.

  The jail is against the north wall of the city. Lots of distance between us and them. Although Oldtown appeared safe, we didn't take chances. We snuck out through the underground grotto gate, forded the river, and kept to the small local streets of the player communities. From our hilltop vantage, we could see that the crusaders were indeed conducting a recruiting drive in the Foot. We moved through the outskirts of Stronghold without incident before turning north and heading through the slums.

  "Patrol," I warned in a clipped whisper. We retreated into a small alley and hid behind large bales of hay. The squad of six knights marched by, black tunics waving in the wind. So far we'd seen a few patrols of crusaders and not a single watchman, which was concerning.

  "You know," said Kyle, still ducking behind cover, "someone on the message board pointed out that hay balers didn't actually exist in medieval Europe."

  Izzy's face went flat. "You must've had a boring couple of days without us."

  Large farming machines or not, the spooled stacks of hay had done their job. The patrol disappeared down the street, allowing us to continue on our way.

  "Wait," called back Izzy, refusing to leave the alley. "Wait a minute."

  I traded a glance with Kyle, checked up and down the street, and returned to a crouch in the alley. "What is it?"

  "What would we have done if they'd seen us?" she asked.

  I grunted. "Probably a tornado spin to disorient them, followed by a deadshot on their commanding officer. Then I would've—"

  "No," interrupted Izzy. "I mean, what could Kyle and I have done?"

  I hiked my shoulders. "I don't know. Let me take care of business, I suppose."

  "That's my point. We can't fight in city limits. Not when attacked by the legit law, and the crusaders are the law now. We're no good to you."