Black Hat Read online

  "Is that true?" I asked Errol. "You can fight in the city?"

  "Raise yer spear 'gainst me an' find out fer yerself," he said defiantly.

  That gave me pause. I had done exactly that the first time we met.

  "Yes," said Izzy plainly. "He can help us."

  The pirate cinched his arms behind his head and leaned back.

  "What about Lucifer?" asked Kyle. "You said he was kinda on our side."

  "I have no idea whose side he's on besides his own," I answered truthfully, "but he's a no go. He's not addressable by email. As with the saints, even a direct reply to his own messages doesn't reach him. They must be trying to cut him out of the system."

  "Or," speculated Izzy, "he purposefully disconnected himself as much as possible to stay hidden."

  Kyle grumbled. "So it's just us then."

  I nodded. "Unfortunately."

  "Maybe not," said Izzy. "I mean, when has that ever stopped us before?" Something about the discourse had started to calm her down. She was becoming the cool and collected Izzy I knew. "I've been pissed because I screwed this whole thing up and got captured, but here we are. And my trip to the Great Library wasn't a waste. I didn't get a chance to swipe any books, but I discovered why Bishop Tannen wants the dragonspear."

  I was the only one standing at this point, but she had my attention. I came over and sat at the head of the table. "We know why, don't we? With the dragonspear comes the mantle of Protector of Stronghold. Tannen doesn't just want to run the city, he wants to be its champion."

  "Not to mention live in these sweet digs," added Kyle.

  Izzy gave a measured nod. "Sure, of course he wants those things. But mantles come with something else. An ability we didn't know about."

  I waited until she winked at me. "You're killing me," I said.

  She chuckled. "Just wanna make sure you hear this. Mantles come with the ability to create new factions."

  I pursed my lips and considered that. I leaned back and crossed my arms. "Interesting. The catechists already have a huge influence over crusader leadership, but apparently that's not enough. Tannen wants his own breakaway sect."

  Kyle scoffed. "Dude probably wants to start his own new world order."

  "That also might explain the wild king's situation."

  Izzy nodded. "And why he wants the crown back so badly."

  I was floored. A week ago, NPCs weren't even supposed to have the ability to wear mantles. But every day that passed was another day for Lucifer's hack to pivot the runtime away from expected outcomes. Every detour opened a whole new set of branching possibilities, further and further until the divergence appeared as completely different behavior.

  NPC sapience had allowed the wild king to defy the goblin horde. Had bestowed the title of Protector upon Papa Brugo. The flip side of the same coin was the bishop himself. Despite recent buffs by the saints, Tannen had overthrown them. His hatred for the pagans was so strong that he'd rather become a dictator than fail at his holy mission. Rigidly applying his rule was the means to his end.

  He wanted his own mantle. He was jealous of the dragonspear, the tower, the title. But that wasn't all.

  Kyle grunted. "Not to be a total buzzkill, guys, but how does this info really help us? I mean, who cares if Tannen wants to be a crusader or something else? Who cares if the wild king wants to be a pagan or a wildkin? None of that knowledge kicks them out of our city."

  Debbie Downer or no, I was happy to see Kyle giving a damn instead of just following along. Even Izzy was passionate in her cold, heartless way. I couldn't make it out yet, but it felt like we were on to something.

  "There's something else I learned," offered Izzy. She turned to the mirror on the wall and the sanctum master panel activated. We all watched as she navigated to the socket manager. "We know Dragonperch has lots of locked features. Browsing the list of empty sockets, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how to upgrade this place."

  My face brightened. "Don't tell me you found the sockets?"

  "Nope," said Izzy, lips curling into a smirk. "You guys did."

  I paused, not getting her joke.

  "Read the names of the sockets," she instructed.

  "Okay..." I frowned at the onscreen list, skeptical this would achieve anything it hadn't before. "Let's see. Feather, wind, water, earth—"

  "That's the one. That last one."

  "Earth?"

  Izzy nodded. "What's another name for earth?"

  I chewed my lip, still wondering how she thought I'd already found the socket. Then it came to me. I hurried to my inventory. "Dirt," I finished, producing the loot that the great sandworm had dropped.

  The dirt pearl was a heavy palm-sized orb, like a snow globe without a stand. The glass-like surface was a darkened swirl of light and dark browns. Curious, though, was the faint translucent light it now emanated from within. It had definitely not done that before.

  "You're kidding me," I said. "The dirt pearl fit into the earth socket the whole time?"

  "Yes and no." Izzy watched as I hopped out of my seat and approached the master panel. I tried to apply the item to the earth socket but was greeted with an error sound. "And that's the problem," continued Izzy. "The library book mentioned something about a way to prep the pearl to plug into the socket, but it didn't go into details."

  "What a tease," complained Kyle loudly. "I thought we were on to something."

  I knew exactly how he felt. "But we have what we need. If it's just a matter of technique, there might be info on the wiki."

  "You're forgetting that Dragonperch is quite possibly the only active sanctum in Haven," said Izzy. "You heard Lucifer. His black dragon unlocked it. I don't think that was supposed to happen for at least a couple of years."

  "So no one knows dick about these things."

  "It's more mysterious than that. Only after sanctums are inhabited do pearls present themselves, which makes them extremely rare. Those two pearls are probably the only ones in existence." Kyle and I stared at each other in awe. "But they're still random drops," she added. "Which means we don't always get what we need. Dragonperch doesn't have a socket for the bone pearl."

  I grumbled. Haven, in general, wasn't the kind of place governed by rule books. The devs preferred an organic education that was less about instruction and more about experience. With a simulation so vast, it was a natural concession. The players did their best to keep up with the wiki, but that simply wasn't possible in a beta that hadn't revealed many of the game's features. That, combined with the branching genetic learning of the game and Lucifer's sentience hacks, meant Haven documentation would likely always be incomplete and out of date.

  "If I can get back to the Great Library..." started Izzy, but even she realized the difficulty of the task. She was on lockdown and the crusaders had it in for us.

  "We need to put a pin in it," I said. "As much as I want to get Dragonperch up and running, Bishop Tannen is the bigger problem."

  "Actually," cut in Errol, standing and striding to the window, "the immediate problem be the circle o' priests at our door. Can they get in?"

  "It shouldn't be possible," answered Izzy. "The tower may not be fully active, but the wards have held since the simulation started. Without the dragonspear, they shouldn't be able to enter."

  "That be one blessing, at least. But so long as they stand vigil, we have no chance o' leaving here in one piece. Not with only Talon an' I to fight 'em."

  "It all comes back to the city watch," I muttered. "They're on our side. I know that for a fact. But they can't act against Tannen while he's the boss. And grabbing the Eye of Orik won't be so easy with Tannen's magic ensnaring it. It seemed to be on a tether."

  "I can't believe me ears," growled Errol. "This is the great Talon I hear whinin' 'bout the helpless city watch?"

  I was taken aback by his choice of timing to mock me. "I—"

  "Did ye twiddle yer thumbs an' complain when the goblin horde rushed yer gates?"

  Kyle rais
ed a finger. "Actually—"

  "Don't answer that," I snapped.

  Errol pressed forward. "Shorehome don't even have a full army, yet we get by fine. Tell me, it wasn't just the watch that defended yer town against the titan, was it?"

  I gritted my teeth, finally seeing his point. "No. The players and NPCs banded together."

  "Aye, they did. Against a common threat, the differences 'tween player an' NPC mattered not. An' here we find ourselves facin' a similar annihilation, do we not?"

  "The difference," complained Kyle, "is that some people actually like that bishop bastard."

  "Sure," I said, still thinking about how Stronghold had come together in a time of war, about how Shorehome had united in a time of abandonment. "But plenty of people don't. Errol's point stands. If we're gonna win this thing, we're gonna need help. And we're only gonna get that by thinking outside the box."

  I went deep into my inventory and produced the satin sheath. My fingers dug inside and gripped the skull within.

  "No!!!" cried Izzy and Errol in unison. They jumped on me and held my hand in place.

  "What?"

  Izzy glared. "You remember what happened the last few times we ran into the warden? We ran. Every. Single. Time."

  "But—"

  "He can't be beaten," spat Errol. "A cursed man spewing cursed damage. Don't invite that on us."

  Even Kyle joined in. "At least not while we're stuck on lockdown."

  I scoffed at them all. "Come on. It's not like Hood can get inside Dragonperch."

  "If anyone can," said Izzy, "I'd put my money on him."

  I stared at them like they were crazy.

  "Look," she said, "Just wait. You remove that thing and you could be raining down hell. We need to think this through. Just... wait."

  I frowned, nodded, and put the sack away. "Only 'cause you're cute."

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, including me.

  0960 Brain Assist

  The war room was the top floor of the tower. That meant it was a short flight of steps to zone outside to the roof. The sun was beginning to hang low in the sky, which I couldn't believe. Another day was passing since our betrayal at the Salt Sea and we weren't any closer to solving our problems. I was determined to take action today anyway, even if my companions couldn't.

  Unfortunately, the roof was empty save for Bandit, who liked to nap out here. "Where are the saints when you need them?" I grumbled. The bongo flicked her ear sympathetically.

  I waited around a bit to see if Saint Peter would show up. Heck, at this point I wouldn't have minded Loras. I zoned back inside and chatted and waited some more. After hitting the limits of my frustration, I realized I was missing the obvious. With everyone chilling in the war room, I went into my menu and ticked the green help button.

  A man flashed into the room standing at attention sans salute. He wore shiny black boots and a British red coat adorned with large gold buttons. Blond hair, blue eyes, clean shaven except for a thin mustache, and he spoke with a thick Indian accent.

  "Hello, sir. I am glad to make your acquaintance today."

  My eyebrow twitched. I was only half surprised. "Varnu, Son of John. How is Texas this fine American day?"

  "Oh, the jungle is sweltering."

  "I—You're in a jungle?"

  "Well, of course. It is a necessary component of tiger hunting."

  "That doesn't sound legal, Varnu. And it definitely doesn't sound like you're in Texas."

  "But this is a killer tiger, sir. The Ministry of Hunting has created a special exception."

  I wasn't sure how to respond. Haven support technicians were clearly instructed not to reveal their nationality. No one wanted help outsourced from India. Poor Varnu constructed elaborate yet unbelievable lies about living in the USA. It was harmless enough.

  "Listen, Varnu, we have a situation here and I think Saint Peter would want to talk about it. In fact, I'm kinda surprised he's not already here."

  He nodded. "Yes. The saints send their regrets that they are unable to attend. This is due to the blockade, of course."

  My eyes scrunched. "Blockade?"

  He blinked patiently. "I am sure you have noticed, sir, that there is a ring of priests warding your accommodations with a circle."

  "Yeah. The guards. They're casting a spell."

  "Priests do not cast spells, but instead pray. This is basic information found in your Haven User Guide."

  I waved the explanation off. "What I meant was, this circle of theirs can actually keep the saints from crossing?" Izzy and I traded a concerned glance.

  "I do not have that information," answered Varnu, "except to send my regrets that the saints cannot come."

  Kyle scratched the scruff on his chin. "At least it sounds like he actually talked to them. That's a step up, right?"

  "It is," I agreed. "Varnu, does that mean you can deliver a message to them?" Staff members were unreachable by DM. The direct messaging system was generally limited to player communications.

  "I am sorry," said Varnu Johnson. "It is impossible for me to relay players messages to Kablammy personnel."

  I rolled my eyes. This was the not-so-harmless part of Varnu's script. "Dude, if there was ever a time to pass me up the chain, it's now."

  "I do appreciate the gravity of the situation, sir, but my extensive two-hour training seminar was exceedingly clear."

  "This is ridiculous!"

  He clicked his tongue. "It is the truth. The handbook section entitled 'Handling Irate Residents' reads: As a resident companion, you are never, under any circumstances, supposed to refer anyone to a supervisor. Of course, they are not to be directly told this—" Varnu froze, realizing he had said way too much. I could see him scrambling for a save.

  "We're way past that, Varnu. The saints have been usurped in Stronghold. The crusaders took over for the city watch. Criminals are running Shorehome. NPCs are downstairs keeping them from accessing my tower. Bishop Tannen is the new ruler now."

  The eyes of the "resident companion" went wide. I wondered how up-to-date he kept with game events. Probably very little, if he'd been in the middle of a tiger hunt.

  "The catechists are out of control," I told him plainly. "If they create their own faction, it'll only get worse."

  Varnu's eyes lit up. "Ah! That is a bit of good news then. You see, creation of a faction requires saintly approval. It is impossible without it."

  "That's something," I said, "but we still need to talk to them. Can't you have them open a line of communication with me?"

  "They can't do it," interjected Izzy. "Don't you hear yourself? The saints lost their power. They can't even get in here to chat. What makes you think they could do anything to help us?"

  "That's the whole trick," I explained. "The saints are still behind the scenes guiding things. They just can't directly interfere. But remember what happened last time there was a state of emergency in Stronghold?"

  "Orik?" guessed Kyle.

  "Right. A giant cyclops and thousands of pagans attacked the city. Like Errol said, it wasn't only the city watch who fought them off."

  Izzy shook her head. "But that's because the runtime enabled combat for everyone in—" She paused, eyes wide, as it came to her. "You want the saints to declare some kind of martial law."

  "Wartime measures, a state of emergency, whatever game system unlocks combat in town. Stronghold is a player city. If you ignore the guards, players outnumber NPCs four to one. If we let players fight, we just might be able to take Tannen down." I nodded to Errol for his idea. "Even if the city watch can't help."

  The pirate strolled forward. "An' they only be out of it till we return yer soulstone t' the hands o' the saints." He nodded in satisfaction. " 'Tis a good plan. A suicide mission, mayhap, but as good a plan as any."

  I laughed. I was starting to like the scoundrel. I turned back to Varnu, who was silently considering everything we said. "What do you think? The saints might not have the same control of Stronghold, b
ut they might be able to tweak or trigger wartime measures? Can you get the word out?"

  The resident companion pressed his lips together, unconcerned with masking his glum outlook. "I am not sure if they can accomplish what you say, but there is a problem."

  "Oh, come on. You're from Texas, right?" I joked.

  He half smiled. "I assure you, I am as American as lychee pie."

  "Then give us that Southern attitude. Get 'er done, no matter what it takes."

  He swallowed and cleared his throat. "That is the thing, sir. Resident companions don't actually, technically, have a method in place for contacting the saints."

  The four of us stared blankly at Varnu.

  "What do you mean?" asked Kyle. "Like, can't you just escalate a general support ticket or something?"

  Varnu clenched his jaw. "No, sir. I mean that we have no form of communication whatsoever with anyone from Kablammy."

  We blinked some more.

  "But you're tech support!" I barked.

  "And as such, we are a resident-facing support group. You cannot possibly believe the development team actually cares about your day-to-day well-being, do you?"

  Again, no one said anything for a moment. The curtain of corporate America was being thrust aside and no one wanted to believe the truth.

  "BUT YOU'RE TECH SUPPORT!" I fumed. Maybe my brain runtime was stuck in a loop.

  Kyle howled in laughter. It bordered on maniacal. "This is so jacked up. Tech support is a sham." He shook his head in disbelief.

  "So the saints can't come inside," I said, about to join him in crazy town. "And we can't go outside." My hands hooked on my hips. "We're just supposed to sit on our asses for the rest of the afterlife?"

  "Well, sir," offered Varnu helpfully, "that obviously would not happen. Eventually Bishop Tannen and the catechists would find a way to usurp you as well."

  Izzy rolled her eyes and quoted him. "Obviously."

  He winced under her glare. "But that simply means, how do you say, the cricket ball is in your court." His forehead furrowed. "What is a court?"

  "Varnu..." warned Izzy.