Black Hat Read online

  "So what can you do to help the cause?"

  "The best the watch can do is not kill you on sight." He pulled down some more ale. "Those are orders they don't wish to carry out. The crusaders, however, may not fully appreciate what you mean to this city. And those cursed priests are bloodthirsty against anyone who doesn't view the world as they do."

  "At least we can agree on that," I said pointedly. I moved to the door but paused, my back to him. "If we manage to return the Eye to the saints..."

  "Then the watch will immediately mobilize against these usurpers. We'll be outnumbered, we'll need your help, but now we've seen the price of inaction. Believe me, a lot of good men are biding their time in the jail yard below. You return the Eye of Orik, and the city watch will have your back."

  I nodded firmly and left Gladius in his cell. Just as Jorah had promised, no one was around to accidentally run into me. I snuck out the window of his office and opened up party chat.

  Talon: Folks, turns out the plan is simple after all. We get the Eye back, we get Stronghold. It's time to make for the Circus.

  0910 Bookworm

  Izzy cursed Talon's message. With all the craziness and overcrowding of late, the Pleasure Gardens were a popular retreat she'd taken considerable care to navigate. Now that she was actually in the Great Library, it was practically abandoned. Looks like players preferred taking advantage of the media rooms and the joys of the Scented Ladies. Whatever happened to curling up with a good book and escaping into your imagination?

  Izzy crept along a low shelf. Even though the rows of books weren't populated with browsers, the Great Library was staffed with several stern librarians who took their duties very seriously. The NPCs were laughably stereotypical, too. Dark ponytails, sharp noses, tightly buttoned collars. Every single woman sported a pair of stylish prescription glasses. This was just another fantasy for boys. Izzy was practically waiting for one of the women to pull off their spectacles, let their hair down, and magically transform into a frisky-yet-demure sex symbol.

  Silly as the librarians were, they'd report Izzy in a heartbeat if she let herself be seen. In order to keep a low profile, Izzy wouldn't be bothering with the normal procedures of "signing in" and "checking out" books. This was a stealth mission, and the pixie was glad her secondary attribute was agility.

  After a young redhead returned to her desk, Izzy rushed into a back room reserved for administrative texts. She found a safe spot to relax and messaged Talon back.

  Izzy: Sorry, boys. I'm gonna have to sit that out too. In the middle of something here.

  Kyle: Hope it's not one of those sexy-times romance books you left on the couch last week.

  Izzy: Shut up, idiot!

  Kyle: "Marked by the Billionaire Bear."

  She hissed under her breath. Of all the people she'd let her guard down around, it had been the frat boy. Show a soft side to someone like that and they'll never forget it. Izzy wondered if it would've been better or worse for Talon to see it.

  Grumbling didn't help, so she focused on scanning the shelves. As Haven's premiere player eight months running, Izzy was probably more familiar with the Great Library than anyone else uploaded to this digital reality. Three floors high in a central atrium, hallway wings branching off in three directions, more furniture and fireplaces than you could count. She'd been over every inch of it numerous times. Still, the amount of arcane knowledge in the place was staggering. Browsing was one thing, but actually reading the tomes was another. It would take even an avid reader like her many lifetimes to get through it all.

  That challenge, however, was a worthy one. Research was key. The others liked to pretend she'd stumbled upon the winter staff through dumb luck, but they were forgetting the simple dictum: knowledge is power.

  Izzy zeroed in on the shelf she was looking for. It wasn't as obvious as being labeled "sanctums" and for some reason the devs had decided to use a vague representation of the Dewey Decimal System rather than anything as powerful as a Google search bar, but she was in the right place. The texts focused on types of places and terrain, ranging from simple farmhouses to mystical churches and monuments. After finding and poring through several fat books by Master Abodin, she finally found a mention of sanctums.

  The gist of the information was fairly obvious, even to someone who hadn't played a lot of role-playing games. Sanctums are player-run domiciles that can be purchased and founded. They provide various functions ranging from security to manufacturing and even trade. Her initial reaction was surprise, based on how boring the book made sanctums sound. Something told her Dragonperch was quite a bit different than the standard player upgrades.

  Interestingly, there was a sideways mention about some sanctums being tied to mantles. That was one confirmation that all sanctums weren't created equal. Unfortunately, the text didn't expand on that information. No matter how much further she read, she found no specific mentions of Dragonperch or similar places.

  What she did find, however, was information about sockets. Sanctums had various powers that were activated by the sockets, which reinforced her belief that there was more to Dragonperch's control menu than was currently available.

  Boot steps scuffed along the rugs. Hushed voices whispered back and forth. Izzy slid the book back on the shelf, rushed to the door of the current room, and peeked outside. Six crusaders fanned out in different directions. Commanding them was a priest in a white robe with a gold cross. He appeared to be more of a bureaucratic than a cleric like Vagram, but how well he could fight was relative considering her inability to draw weapons or use skills.

  "You're sure the mystic is in this wing?" asked the priest quietly.

  The redhead with the perky butt nodded. "I saw the bitch. Nobody takes my books without checking them out."

  "Stand aside then, young lady. We'll find her."

  "Don't damage the books," she instructed.

  The priest spat on the floor. "I care not for these dusty volumes. Consider it a blessing the bishop hasn't burned this place to the ground yet."

  The woman's face went ashen. She opened her mouth to speak, but the priest placed a hand on her chest and shoved her into a chair. Her hair dropped to her shoulders as her glasses fell off. Ugh, of course. She was pretty, too, but she wasn't stupid. The librarian quickly swallowed any objection.

  Izzy ducked away from the doorway as the priest glanced in her direction. "Shit." Staying low, she crawled deeper into a row of books.

  Izzy: Sorry, boys, I might have a problem here.

  Talon: What is it?

  Izzy grimaced.

  Izzy: A priest and some crusaders have me holed up in the library. Gonna try to

  She sent the chat message without finishing as her eyes landed on a miscategorized book lying on its side. She was huddled into a corner and the tome was shoved on top of several other books on the bottom shelf.

  "Check back there," called one of the knights. Another grunted in reply.

  Izzy pulled the book into her lap and opened it. The entire book was about mantles. All kinds of them. Special titles with special powers granted by special items. Flipping the pages, she wondered if she could find mention of any specific ties to sanctums.

  What she found instead plastered her eyes wide open.

  Heavy boots stomped into her section. Izzy tensed. Unable to draw a weapon, she silently flipped the book closed and held it tightly in both hands. As the crusader rounded the corner, she lifted the tome over her head, ready to strike.

  0920 Stealth Assassins

  "She's not responding," I complained.

  Kyle sighed. "You realize we can both see the same party chat, right?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Just let Izzy be Izzy. It's too late to help her now. If she needs something, she'll tell us, right?"

  I gritted my teeth. There was no use sending more messages. One was enough for her to notice. I'd probably just end up distracting her at a time when she least needed it. "I guess."

  "We kno
w she's still alive," he pointed out. "She's the toughest chick in the whole city. Even without her magic and toys, I wouldn't wanna be after her."

  I chuckled but it came out as artificial as it felt. I wasn't sure he was right about anything other than it being too late to help her. She was in the Great Library on the other side of the city. Kyle and I? We were in a totally different level of hurt.

  We crouched in one of the stables of the Circus. The racetrack was surrounded by low stadium walls full of seating, but the entire length of the building was functional. Any number of access doors and archways circled the perimeter. The Circus was an odd choice for the bishop's base of operations. What it had in grandiose space it lacked in security. A literal army of crusaders patrolled the grounds but Kyle and I had managed to sneak in anyway.

  Only this far, I tempered myself. An empty stable with nothing in it didn't rate high on the list of the bishop's concerns. As we pressed deeper into the inner courtyard, things would change. I peeked around a doorway and recoiled.

  "Looks like temporary barracks," I reported. "Three crusaders."

  Suddenly, a chime notified me of an email. By Kyle's reaction, he heard the same thing, which would only happen if he also got the message. I opened my inbox.

  City Alert:

  Residents in good standing are invited to the Circus for a declaration by Bishop Tannen. Please attend at once.

  Kyle and I searched each other's faces.

  "What the crap could that be about?" he asked.

  I shook my head wordlessly. Our being here had to be a coincidence.

  "Suppose that means the building's done," said a guard in the other room.

  "Well, then," announced another, "let's get off our arses and see to the crowds."

  We readied our weapons as the men clambered to their feet, but they exited out the far side, leaving us alone.

  "You get what this means, right?" I asked with a huff. "The whole town's coming to watch. All the guards will be here. This is no longer a stealth operation."

  "Well," hedged Kyle, "it is until it isn't." He pressed his lips out. "What if this announcement is exactly what we need? A distraction. We can search Tannen's quarters while he's busy."

  "You think he dropped the Eye of Orik somewhere for safekeeping? NPCs must have a limited inventory they can stash things in. Why would he not use it?"

  "I dunno."

  Hrm. It seemed like a long shot, yet it did present an opportunity. We could continue sneaking in shadows so long as we didn't go directly at Tannen. It was low risk, low reward, with the off chance of winning the jackpot.

  All we had to do was keep quiet.

  "That reminds me of something," I said. I opened my skill menu. Our bout of super leveling had recently left me with a few spare points to spend.

  At first glance, there appears to be an abundance of skill points in Haven—at level 9 I had 20—but you quickly learn a couple of things. One, combat skills are a point sink. Each can be upgraded to level 3, which also requires the base weapon skill to be upgraded. Just my offensive deadshot and defensive crossblock ended up taking half my total allotment.

  Two, special class skills tend to be more granular than in other games. You can't just pick up three skills and be an expert thief. Case in point, sneak allowed me to move silently, but without hide I couldn't reliably escape visual detection. Additional refinements are available through skill purchases: ambush, backstab, steal—well, you get the idea. It all adds up to a ton of skill points, but it also encourages diverse play styles.

  I still agreed with my initial intention not to become a super rogue, but I also preferred not to murder crusaders left and right. So I decided to expand my stealth tool set.

  Subdue

  Incapacitate unaware enemies without doing damage.

  Spirit Cost: 18

  Just in time too. A voice rang out from the previously empty room.

  "Okay, okay," snarled a crusader, returning to the barracks. "Don't hafta tell me twice!" The gruff knight trudged within and collected a weapon. Kyle and I silently waited, ready to take him down.

  The guard emerged right beside us, starting to turn the opposite direction but noticing something in the corner of his eye. By the time he had the wherewithal to do a double take, I already held my spear around his neck in a subdue attack. The guard tried to let out a bark but I constricted his airway. He struggled a little but eventually went limp. I released him and he slid to the floor.

  Knockout!

  [Crusader] is unconscious

  Kyle looked down at the crumpled body and blinked. "How long will he be out?"

  "It depends. Are we using real logic or video game logic? It's so hard to tell these days."

  Kyle waited several seconds. "He's still not moving at all. I'm going with video game logic."

  "Only one thing to do then." After looting him, I picked up his legs. "Wanna help me out here?"

  He arched an eyebrow. "With what?"

  "Hiding the unconscious guard, dude. That's what you do in stealth games. Haven't you ever played Thief?"

  His face was blank for a moment, but then he lit up. "I get it. It's like Splinter Cell." He hefted the knight's shoulders and we carried him into the barracks. Bed cots were arranged in haphazard rows with wooden trunks of equipment at the foot of each. We opened the nearest one and stuffed the guard inside. It didn't close all the way so Kyle sat on the lid to give it an extra nudge.

  "You think there's anything good in here?" he asked.

  We turned and considered the other trunks.

  We opened everything we could. I imagined the room from a bird's eye view and started at the top left, checking every chest in order. After the first few, my spirits dimmed. Sure, there was silver and the odd gem—we took that stuff, believe me—but the practical equipment was standard crusader fare. Plate, swords, maces—that kind of thing. Kyle upgraded his longsword and breastplate, at least, but it was by no means epic loot. When I'd checked the last trunk, I turned to see Kyle holding his turquoise decanter, eyes mashed closed, while he recited, "Stealth, stealth, stealth," to himself.

  "Uh..." I looked around casually, like I was missing something. "What the fuck are you doing?"

  "I have a theory," he said, waving his magical bottle at me. "The potion I drink has something to do with what I need—as long as I want it bad enough." He closed his eyes again and repeated, "Stealth, stealth, stealth." With that he uncorked the bottle and sent it down the hatch.

  I blinked without fanfare. "Well, at the very least you don't have boobs."

  "No way, bro. This is much better." He pulled his double crossbow over his shoulder.

  It didn't look better than boobs to me. I took a second, but I got it. "How the hell did you equip that in town?"

  "It says I'm an urban sniper, man. For the next hour, I can use my crossbow in city limits."

  "That's absolutely amazing. Can you damage people though?"

  He scoffed. "What kind of sniper can't dish damage, dude? I'm sure I can."

  I canted my head. "Okay, then. I guess we're on the clock. Let's get moving."

  He nodded. Then he blew out the gassiest burp this side of the afterlife.

  "Wait a minute... Are those potions alcoholic?"

  He beamed and recorked the bottle. "This thing really was meant for me."

  I couldn't believe it, but if anyone could operate normally with a slight buzz, it was Kyle.

  I moved to the next doorway and listened. Since I didn't have specialized auditory skills, I didn't hear shit. A peek into the hallway confirmed what I'd heard. Nothing. We crept down the long straightaway of the stadium's hall. Hurried boot steps grew louder ahead. Kyle raised the crossbow.

  "Watch it, urban sniper," I whispered, pushing down his weapon.

  I pulled him to the wall and we ducked into the nearest door. Luckily, it was just a grain closet. No one here.

  "I don't know how I feel about killing crusaders yet. We can do this without bloodshed
."

  "But I'm a sniper, bro."

  "Sometimes being a sniper means being all quiet-like."

  He sighed, disappointed. Outside the door, the men conversed as they passed.

  "Have you found the Protector, yet?" asked one.

  "He must still be in his tower."

  "Make no assumptions. Bishop Tannen wants maximum visibility on this event. He doesn't want to be made a fool."

  "Understood, sir."

  The treading feet faded into the distance. "I think we're getting close," I whispered. We proceeded down the hallway again.

  From above, the Circus was shaped like a capped U. The southern entrance was curved and the east and west walls straight. We'd entered from the side and skipped the heavily guarded entryway altogether. At the top of the stadium, a flat building rose an extra couple of stories above the fray. The box seats of the Roman age. Knowing Tannen's penchant for glamour, I had no doubt his quarters would be in that section, but since that building was heavily guarded from the outside, we'd slipped in somewhere in between.

  We waited until the hallway was clear, but it wasn't an all-or-nothing prospect. A lone crusader patrolled in and out and around, whistling to himself. Kyle and I needed to duck in and out of alcoves several times to avoid detection. At one point the guard walked right by the plant we were hiding behind. I almost triggered subdue but hesitated for some reason. As he strolled away I sighed, figuring we'd need to wait for his patrol route to loop to get another chance.

  The guard marched two doors down and turned into another door. Multiple voices welcomed him inside. Another barracks, most likely. We were fortunate he hadn't seen us and alerted them. Though the door was still open, it obscured our position. Kyle and I hurried down the remainder of the hall and into the main residence.