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  "Good to go," I said.

  "Aye," added Trafford.

  "Any more word on the overarching soulstone quest?" she asked.

  "Training an army doesn't leave a lot of time for digging into books."

  "I don't blame you," I said. "You know what's funny? I passed 100k XP sometime during this morning's battle and I never even noticed."

  Izzy stiffened and checked her menu. "Bastard! I'm at 99,491."

  Trafford groaned. "You players and your obsession with levels. Let's go see what the Black Hat army is made of."

  We laughed and headed out.

  The double wooden gate was drawn open. Black Hats and city folk dotted the thoroughfare, but the main attraction was in the field beyond the walls. We passed through the gate to a greeting of 360 soldiers.

  I opened my new captain controls, which conveniently consisted of a new warfare panel.

  Army

  360

  Black Hats

  220

  Crusaders

  40

  Legionnaires

  100

  I was a little disappointed by the number. Total faction membership, including the 40 temporary crusaders, sat at 360. The added legion should've brought our numbers to 460. Alas, a marching army is only a subset of the total guild. Kyle and Bravo Team were away. 20 pirates sailed to Shorehome. Drummond was among plenty of noncombatants staying home to manage the city. Instead of the legionnaires bolstering our army to greater numbers, they really just plugged its holes. I didn't mind the trade considering they were highly trained soldiers. Between them and Grimwart's crusaders, there was plenty of battle experience to go around.

  The rest of the Black Hats were a mixed bag. Some star players like Dune's party. Some high-level NPCs. Jixa's ogres. Nooner's gang accompanied us with a caravan of oxen pulling supply wagons. But beyond that Izzy was right: our army was made up of a whole bunch of scrubs. Brave men and women who were willing to die for their new faction. We only equipped and mustered the ones that wouldn't be a liability in the field, but that was a far cry from being able to fight. For them it would be a trial by fire.

  So 360 soldiers. As the sole occupying force in the tended land they looked impressive, but I had grave doubts. Oakengard's numbers were boosted after the pagan invasion. By all accounts they were 600 strong, split between knights, sages, and priests, all expertly trained under strict military rule. But that number didn't account for their attrition: the catechist schism, the crusaders we'd stolen, those citizens of Oakengard too pure to join the Violet Order, at least the ones able to escape the infection. If I was being optimistic, we'd be outnumbered by no more than 50 troops.

  Still, there was abundant room for pessimism.

  The greater pagan faction used to stand at 2500 mobs, but that was a long time ago. They'd since splintered all over the Midlands. Most wouldn't be a problem, but General Azzyrk's goblin horde was still 350 strong. Respawned and rested, it would be disastrous to meet them in the field before we reached Oakengard. Even worse would be if our enemies joined forces and flanked us in the field.

  And then there was the actual journey to Oakengard. The terrain was an added obstacle. The path to the NPC fortress had never been fully mapped. It was mountainous and arduous. Our army had few horses and mounts. If it wasn't for Grimwart's familiarity with the route, we could never hope to make the journey in two days. Now it was a worthwhile prayer.

  The new colonel executed his side flawlessly. With only hours of prep, our ragtag band of adventurers worked in organized units, all partied up and members of the greater brigade. Centurions blew horns to announce the start of the march. Crusader sergeants split off and guided various units. And just like that, hundreds of boots trampled the earth.

  "Huh," I said, a little crestfallen. "I had a whole Braveheart speech prepared and everything."

  Izzy snorted. "Keep it in the bag. You might need it later. I've been digging into whatever lore might be relevant to our set of quests. If there's a line to the kraken..."

  "It stands to reason that Orik might be mentioned in them as well."

  "Exactly. And after exhaustive research, the most I've been able to dig up on Oakengard's titan is a name: Gigas."

  "Whoa there. You think this Gigas will come into play?"

  She leveled cynical eyes on me. "You don't actually think we're gonna storm the third city without running into the third titan, do you? Where have you been the last two months?"

  "Fair point."

  I paused at the rear of the army while she marched ahead. The gates behind us closed. The petrified statue of Orik peeked above the high wall, an awesome sight even while kneeling. There was nothing for it but to go forward.

  I grabbed Bandit's reins and started the long walk. Our quest to Oakengard had begun.

  <<<T-Minus 2 Days Till Launch>>>

  Tad uselessly limped around the office. Just doing the rounds, he told himself.

  The halls were dark this time of night. And quiet. The "emergency" responders weren't in emergency mode anymore. It had been a confusing turn of events until Christian discovered why hours earlier.

  The lobby security feed had captured Abbie doctoring the front-desk sign-in sheet before planting the bomb. In retrospect, it wasn't hard to pull one over building security, which was really just Horace the semi-retired Baby Boomer with semi-hourly bathroom breaks. The firefighters weren't rushing to save anyone because they believed the office to be entirely empty.

  Tad had already attacked that problem by flicking the light switches on and off. The fluorescent bulbs came on slowly and in stages so the effect wasn't remarkably dramatic. Combined with the building's tinted windows, there was a good bet the signal had been entirely imperceptible during the day.

  To increase the chances of someone seeing them, and rather than trying to catch someone looking during a specific moment of switching, Tad went through periods of leaving the lights on and then leaving them off. Now, in the dead of night, it was sure to draw notice.

  Right?

  The office was in one such dark period as Tad patrolled with his crutch. The cubicles were eerily abandoned. Kinda spooky, actually. Being cut off from the outside world without internet, without phone reception—there was something intensely isolating about it.

  Tad came upon the site of the earlier explosion. The area outside the Superdome was a mess. The adjoining hallway had partially collapsed, although access to the community room was still open. Tad dared not re-enter that graveyard.

  Likewise, walking too near Abbie's body creeped him out. He averted his eyes and gazed at anything but her: fallen ceiling tiles, chunks of server racks, Abbie's recently discharged pistol. Tad was surprised by his reaction to the discovery. He would've thought it would be like an action movie or video game. Find a weapon, pick it up. Instead it brought to mind the wounded CEO. Thinking about the gun was as uncomfortable for him as dwelling on the dead.

  Tad flinched away from scratching noises. Were they coming from a survivor in the Superdome?

  No, it was the collapsed hallway. The stairwell. Someone was trying to get in.

  Tad's eyes shot to the gun on the ground. Would he need to use it?

  Normally, the exterior doors were all magnetically locked, but those were disabled due to the evacuation protocol. Tad stepped closer to the ruined hallway. A section of wall had buckled over the doorway.

  "Is anyone in there?" called a voice. Hammering came from the stairwell. "Seattle Fire Department. Can anyone hear me?"

  Tad relaxed his shoulders. "We're in here!" He hopped to the debris. "The hallway collapsed! There was a bomb!"

  "Bomb! Did you say bomb, sir?" Other voices murmured.

  "Yeah, there's—" Tad paused. Would mention of the bomb slow their rescue? "Someone's hurt in here. A gunshot wound. We need medical attention."

  "Active shooter!" called one.

  Damn. Tad couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut. "Use the other door," he urged. "In the west wing. Use the
stairwell in the west wing."

  "We're gonna get you out of there," replied the firefighter. "Be patient. Just sit tight."

  Tad gritted his teeth as the voices descended the stairwell. He was pretty sure he'd just talked himself out of a rescue.

  1840 The Black Cauldron

  Due to the evening start and our pressing deadline, we pushed the march straight to midnight before making camp. We settled in a large field just off the westerly road, in territory that was still relatively safe. Roving mobs were not about to tangle with an army this size. Nooner rested the oxen. Fires were lit and tents were pitched, but we didn't extensively dig in. Trafford issued a standing order to get a move on in five short hours.

  Rest wasn't totally necessary for players in Haven but it was strongly encouraged. A lack of sustenance and sleep contributed to inefficiencies in health and spirit recharging, stamina usage, and NPC morale. Further dereliction brought active fatigue debuffs into play. It didn't need to be said that those would cripple a combat-ready army. As for the NPCs and mobs among us, I wasn't sure of the precise game mechanics governing their rest patterns, but they seemed preprogrammed to want it.

  Grimwart and I had figured a short rest after a half day's march would be sufficient. Reserving a full camp after the arduous journey tomorrow would give us the greatest returns right before the day of battle.

  Bandit trotted in circles excitedly as I completed a lap around the camp. My aim was to be visible and accessible to every single Black Hat, though I did force myself to cut the many impromptu conversations short. The army needed their rest, and I had somewhere to be.

  I pulled Bandit to the road and patted her neck as Izzy approached.

  "You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" she asked.

  According to the menu, it was nearly 1 a.m. "Legendary powers really have you watching the clock, don't they?"

  Even though I'd been the first to hit level 10, Izzy and Kyle were already accustomed to once-a-day abilities due to their artifacts, the winter staff and Dorfin's Decanter. Now we were all level 10, including Lash, so we had new powers befitting our class and play style. My dragonrunning was once again unlocked at midnight.

  I placed a hand on Bandit's forehead. The blue gem embedded between her horns glowed and she transformed into a large chestnut dragon as the camp watched on.

  "Show off," muttered Izzy.

  "It's not like there's a discreet way to transform into a dragon."

  Bandit snorted agreement, sending an explosion of dust and grass into the air.

  From atop the dragon's back I offered my hand to Izzy. Once she was snuggled behind me, Bandit pattered along the road, picked up speed, and leapt to the sky.

  Izzy's thighs tensed. Her hands around my waist went white. I turned to reassure her, but instead laughed.

  "Are your eyes closed?"

  "Shut up."

  I bellowed harder as we rose higher in the sky and bore south.

  Aerial speed was a scary thing. Horses were fast but slowed often over the course of a day. Flying creatures from doves to dragons sped across the sky ignorant of the paths or terrain below. It wasn't long before we glided over the mountain range that stretched from Stronghold to the western edge of the map. I spotted the whitewater rapids and followed along until we hovered over a gargantuan waterfall. Despair equal to the weight of the water rushed over me. This was the site of my first experience in Haven, my so-called tutorial.

  Bandit circled as she searched for a prime landing spot. The best she could do was a grassy ledge high above the path I'd previously walked. Once our mount splayed low on the ground, Izzy and I slid off her back.

  I checked the game clock. "I still have twenty-five minutes of dragon time left. I get to go with you."

  Izzy pitched her staff into the ground like a walking stick. Her cheeks tightened as she eyed the rocky ledges below. "No reason for both of us to go down there."

  "I didn't know you were afraid of heights," I teased. I approached the cliff edge and perched comfortably to survey the terrain. "But you're right. This'll go faster without you."

  I abruptly flipped around and hopped off the edge, causing the pixie to flinch uncomfortably. As my tiger claws and brand-new spider boots caught the rock face, I smiled long enough to flash her a wink and then descended.

  The last time I'd been here, I was a total noob. Level 1, without any scaling skill or equipment. I well understood how someone even of Izzy's power could blanch at this crevasse, but it really wasn't all that difficult to maneuver if you knew what you were doing. I lowered to the first cliff path and then hopped to the other until I stood on a platform of rock that wandered under the waterfall.

  I hummed the Zelda secret chime and chuckled. "That never gets old."

  This time, when I wandered into the hidden cave entrance, my darkvision solidified the rock walls. My passive navigation and cartography skills made quick sense of the interior, and intuition protected me from sudden surprises. I swapped my tiger claws for the dragonspear and approached the three figures huddled around a cauldron.

  The witches were black creatures with bony features and long matted hair. Boggarts stood taller than most humans, though in my case that wasn't unusual. The three women turned to me, hollow eye cavities open wide. Their voices were like sandpaper on my brain.

  "Surprising to see the Protector of Stronghold in this holy place," said Crowlat ominously.

  "Does he mean to dangle us from the ropes?" screeched Havlat.

  "Depends," said Somlat, "on whether he comes marching or crawling."

  I gritted my teeth. Hearing the coven speak grated my nerves. "I'm here on terms of peace," I announced.

  Crowlat chuckled. "Ah, ah, ah, sister Somlat sees true. You come before us a beggar."

  "I'm not begging, and the benefit is mutual. Unless you enjoy cowering in caves."

  They coughed and cackled amongst themselves. Crowlat took a step toward me. "The Broken Falls are hidden for a reason."

  "Yet finds us twice, he did," snapped Havlat.

  Crowlat grimaced with sharpened teeth. "Why should we help the likes of you?"

  I cleared my throat and spoke adamantly. "Because I mean to destroy the soulstones."

  They traded sightless glances with twitching brows.

  "No," said Havlat to her sisters. "Stronghold only sees the power as dangerous because they no longer have it."

  "It's more than that," I countered, "and you know it. You've seen what Hadrian is, what he's doing. It's why he had you hanged before I could speak with you again." I stepped within an arm's reach of Crowlat. Even at my high level, I was nervous. "We realized long ago that we're not enemies. It's Hadrian. He seeks to usurp and control Haven."

  "Control is an illusion," muttered Crowlat.

  "He holds the Eye," pointed out Havlat.

  "He seeks the servitude of giants," revealed Somlat. "The titans are meant to inspire."

  "Orik," I said.

  Crowlat's face hardened. "Currently a kneeling statue in your capital."

  I swallowed. The witch had a point, but I wasn't sure what was expected of me. I had done what was necessary to protect the city, but maybe the need for that had past. "Saint Peter mentioned freeing the titans. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but if all our factions could live in relative peace, I'm game."

  The three witches congregated around the black cauldron and debated in scratchy whispers. When they turned to me, Crowlat announced, "Neither slavery nor slumber is an acceptable outcome."

  "Neither steel nor stone," added Somlat.

  "And if he's free?" I posited. "What's stopping him from smashing everything to bits again, including you?"

  Crowlat growled. "Our lives are his breaths."

  "Fine," I said. "You fight for your beliefs, I'll fight for mine. Freedom is what we're all after, isn't it?"

  "Freedom or death," remarked Crowlat.

  "From kings to commoners," said Somlat, "freedom and death are often the sam
e."

  Havlat approached menacingly. "And how do you wish to seek your freedom, human?"

  "My army's marching to Oakengard."

  Havlat scoffed. "An army in black."

  Somlat grinned. "An army of black."

  Crowlat held up an open palm. "You seek the Crystal Core." She clasped that hand with Havlat and held up her other. "You seek the kraken." That hand held Somlat's. "The Broken Falls reveal that water is at the heart of all things."

  "It brings life," said Somlat. "Preserves it."

  Havlat cackled. "And tears it asunder."

  "In all its forms," continued Crowlat. "Water is the beginning of things, and the end. It serves in liquid, mist, and ice. You will find what you seek in depths frozen and agape."

  My face soured at the riddle. It was hard to fault the boggarts, seeing as they were crazy blind witches and all, but I really hated riddles. They were toys and tests, all trivial.

  "I'm here for more than poetry," I said evenly. "Out there, in the open fields and rocky terrain, this will be a battle of numbers."

  Havlat cackled. "We have only three to add."

  "You speak for all pagans."

  "Seeks to renew the armistice, he does," remarked Somlat.

  "No," I said. "I want a full alliance this time. That's the price of destroying the soulstones."

  Crowlat snorted like grinding metal. "Our peoples are divided."

  "Scattered," added Havlat.

  Somlat bent close. "It takes a titan to rally the errant."

  Havlat chuckled. "It takes an Eye to awaken a giant."

  "No," snapped Crowlat. "Even blind, we can see this will not happen. If you wish to formalize a truce, you must do so with the leader of our largest army."

  I hissed. "You expect me to make an alliance with General Azzyrk directly."

  "On the contrary, I expect you to fail. But that is your stated wish, and you have the freedom to try."

  "Or die," muttered Havlat.

  "And what help will you offer, then? Beyond riddles?"