Black Hat Page 28

  Errol turned slowly, arms up, eyes wide.

  I wiped hay from my face. "Trafford?" I asked with a smile.

  He stared for a second before lowering his weapon. "Is that you, son? Now what in the sam hill are you doing in my cellar?"

  I laughed as the stress left my body. "A better question would be why the hell do you have a trap door to the catacombs down here?" Errol's eyes shifted to Trafford.

  "Oh, that." The shopkeeper scratched the back of his head. "Front Street's the oldest marketplace in Stronghold, you know. I've heard there was a time when things needed to be moved in secret."

  Errol grinned. "If it would please the two of ye old chums, can a fella put his hands down without getting shot?"

  Trafford squinted his eyes suspiciously. "That depends entirely on who you are." Errol tensed.

  "He's okay, Trafford. He's a smuggler from Shorehome," I explained. "He's gonna help me take down the bishop."

  The shopkeeper's weathered face almost never betrayed surprise, but the eyebrow over his larger eye twitched. "Is that right?"

  Errol lowered his arms. " 'Tis."

  The arquebus vanished. "Well, if Talon says you're all right, you're all right."

  The pirate showed his teeth and grunted. Trafford grunted in return. I couldn't be sure, but I suspected they were having some kind of gruff-off.

  "Cut it out, you two." I climbed the stairs to the welcome shop's back room. "We don't have time for this." The two of them stomped up after me.

  "No," muttered Trafford, "I suppose not. What's your plan?"

  Errol grinned. "I've been asking fer a hint o' it, but there's nothin' there."

  "That's not exactly true. I've been trying to get the various factions on our side. The watch can't do anything, but Gladius gave me his word. They'll move in as soon as I recover the Eye."

  "That won't be easy, son." Trafford frowned as he mulled the situation over. "You talked to Grimwart?"

  I blinked. "He's back?"

  "He was in my shop not an hour ago. You know the bishop's been updating the pagan quests, tweaking things to snag more control. It's concerning quite a few grumpy veterans. Grimwart's one of them."

  Errol spat. "That knight's heart is as black as his armor."

  "I think you're pegging him wrong," returned the shopkeeper. "You know I have no love for the crusaders, Talon, but Grimwart seems a straightforward fellow to me."

  I dipped my head. "I thought so too."

  "Ye ain't listening t' this madness, are ye?" huffed Errol. He paced the back room. "Colonel Grimwart woulda turned on ye just as Vagram did, if only he hadn't been wounded."

  "I disagree," said Trafford. "He's a knight with a sense of duty. A code of honor."

  "I spit on his code."

  "I'm sure he spits on yours," I pointed out. "But even a rogue like you has some semblance of honor. The question is if Grimwart's really on our side."

  Trafford canted his head. "Since the bishop healed him up, the colonel's been finding he dislikes the changes in the city. The crusaders were never supposed to be parked in Stronghold this long. Tannen overthrew the saints without him."

  Errol slapped the wall. "That's because Grimwart led an expedition t' get the Protector o' Stronghold as far away from Stronghold as possible."

  "Cleric Vagram led the expedition," I said calmly. "What if they steered him away just like me?"

  "What can he do? Grimwart follows their orders."

  "If he's a good man, he might overrule them."

  Errol scoffed. "Yer askin' a knight t' ignore the same sense o' duty ye praise him fer. Soldiers ain't like pirates. Soldier's do what they're told. When have ye ever seen someone so dedicated ignore their nature?"

  I crossed my arms. "It's not so different from a grizzled pirate trying to save his city."

  He scowled.

  Trafford waited a moment before speaking. "These quest updates are a bit convoluted. I could request Grimwart's presence—get him over here within the hour—and nobody would bat an eye."

  I looked from Trafford to Errol. I couldn't deny the risk, but my tank was nearly empty here. The city watch couldn't help. The players couldn't help. Even the saints were out of the picture.

  "What about Saint Peter?" I asked.

  "Bah," spat Errol. "Now yer pissin' me off."

  "It's worth a—"

  "It ain't worth a damn if ye get killed." Errol strode up and pounded a finger into my chest. "Yer a good kid, Talon, but ye have a trust problem. As in, ye trust everybody ye shouldn't."

  My face tensed. "Including my pirate guide to Shorehome?"

  "Bah!" He stormed to the other side of the room.

  I ground my teeth and leaned against the opposite wall. "Listen, Errol. We can't do this alone. I'm the Protector of Stronghold, but it took the whole city to fight off the horde. Protection of the people without involving the people is meaningless." He shook his head in dismissal. "I'm not some stupid boy who's gonna blindly walk into danger. I don't trust the priests. I overthink every piece of intel the saints give me. And Lucifer is so far off the deep end he won't even make an appearance into this conversation. But that doesn't mean we don't have friends. Gladius and the city watch are pledged to us. Grimwart is the highest-ranking knight in the city. Can you imagine what would happen if he was on our team?"

  The silvery pirate shook his head. "Yer words stir hope, Talon, but me gut says 'tis naive an' dangerous. I'll stand beside ya in a fight against our enemies, but when ye parley with them, I lose my stomach fer it. If ye meet with Grimwart, I'll be returning t' me boat on the river outside town."

  "Aye," remarked Trafford. "A two-bit thief turning tail when things get personal. I'm not surprised."

  Errol stepped to his face. "I've gutted men fer kinder words, shopkeep."

  "Not surprised about that, neither."

  Errol sneered. He turned to me and I could see it plastered all over his face. I was a lost cause. He hissed and stormed outside.

  "Good riddance," snarled Trafford. "There's only room for one gruff asshole in my shop anyway."

  I tried to laugh, but I kept second guessing if I was doing the right thing.

  0990 Knights of the Old Republic

  Trafford promised me an hour, but it was closer to two. Heavy boots pounded through the store as if on a mission, but they were alone. If Grimwart had come to arrest me, he'd have backup.

  The knight entered the back room in full battle dress. Black plate vambraces, shoulder guards, and a full helm emblazoned with a white cross over the eye slit. A similar design was on the black tunic draped over his chain mail. A black cape covered his sword arm, but his weapon was sheathed.

  "You made it back," I said.

  "Aye, as did you. I regret that our quest was not a success. They told me the pirate scum betrayed us."

  I hiked a shoulder. "It was a dick move, but he made a bad choice. He's not the one I'm worried about."

  "No?"

  I steadied myself. "Vagram was the one who betrayed us."

  The colonel removed his helmet. He had a staunch face with a thick mustache. His loose black hair was striped with white, just like his tunic. "The hell you say?"

  "It happened. After Lucifer killed Izzy and escaped, the cleric stabbed me in the back." Technically it was the chest, but the thought was the same.

  Grimwart's eyes searched mine. His brow grew troubled. "There were rumors of you striking an alliance with the dark one."

  "He was talking, I was listening. With a weapon to my throat."

  "His lies can sway the best of men."

  I hissed. "They didn't sway anyone. Lucifer's taken over two angels of the Golden Seven. He had us dead to rights, with a dragon to boot. You think I'd be on his side after he killed Izzy?"

  Grimwart frowned. "No. No, I suppose not. But—"

  "The priests had this whole thing planned," I said. "Trafford told me about your shared concerns. Every move the bishop makes is a snatch at power. My question is, where d
oes your heart lie?"

  The knight scoffed. "You don't think me a party to such scandal?"

  "You tell me. Tannen couldn't have stormed the Pantheon without your crusaders. It's your army who's terrorizing the city."

  "Those are strong words, Talon."

  "They've arrested the head of the city watch!"

  The knight scowled but swallowed back a reply. After some thought he said, "All my dealings with Gladius proved he was a good soldier and a trustworthy man."

  "Damn straight," said Trafford. I nodded my agreement.

  Grimwart clenched his jaw. "Then I'll make it a priority to speak with him. I'm still a colonel, last I checked."

  "That's great, Grim, but it's not enough. We need to oust Tannen from power, the sooner the better."

  The knight's mouth widened in disbelief. "He's one of us!"

  "He stopped being one of you the moment he moved on the saints."

  He turned his head away from the hard truth.

  "Have you spoken to them?" I asked. "The saints?"

  He didn't answer immediately. "I am told they're dealing with other matters, but I suspect I'm being kept from them. Perhaps Gladius knows a way around that."

  "No doubt. But the saints can't take direct action against Tannen. He holds the Eye so he controls the town. The priests are formidable, but it would be a trivial matter for your men to return the artifact to the proper owners."

  Grimwart grumbled. "I am sorry, Talon. What the bishop is doing doesn't sit well with me."

  "Then kick him out."

  He shook his head firmly. "I will not bring arms against a fellow crusader."

  "He doesn't stand for your cause. He stands for himself."

  "Aye, that is likely true. This is why I must immediately bring this to the attention of the Trinity."

  Trafford and I both wore our confusion plainly. Grimwart expounded.

  "The crusader leadership in Oakengard is made up of three equal members: a devout bishop, a holy knight, and a wizened sage. Tannen is only one of three. If he is at fault, he'll be held accountable for his actions. I can dispatch a rider who'll return with orders."

  "A rider? That'll take days each way. Why not just send an email?"

  Grimwart chortled. "Direct messages. That's what players use to contact each other, is it not? NPCs work under a different rule set."

  "Then let me send the email. I could send it to..."

  He noted my pause. "There are no players in Oakengard. Besides that, the report would need to come from a trusted source. It really should be me."

  The panic showed on my face. "You can't leave us in this position for a week."

  He ruminated over the options. "Perhaps not. I have a man with a good reputation. I trust him to follow through. But I must remain steadfast in my conviction. If Bishop Tannen is acting against the Trinity, he will be excommunicated and we will remove him from power. Until I receive such orders, I cannot turn against him. I will not break the covenant of my faction."

  "Damn it," I barked. I turned away from them and rubbed my eyes. Covenant of his faction. It was clear Errol was dead wrong about the knight. He was a good man who wanted to do the right thing just as he'd always represented. But, as with Gladius, he was prevented from acting by the contrivance of game systems.

  The thing was, we couldn't wait a week while Tannen had free reign over Stronghold. And this gambit had just lost me the pirate as an ally. "You guys are starting to make me really desperate," I muttered.

  Grimwart smiled and slid the helmet back on his head. "I expect so. But desperation is not a stranger to great events. I am the colonel of the crusader army, and you are the Protector of Stronghold. I expect the world shall shudder at our influence. This is why it is imperative to only act when it is right to do so." The knight twirled his cape over his shoulder and marched from the welcome shop.

  "Well," grumbled Trafford. "I'm just a shopkeeper. Where does that leave me?"

  "In good company," I insisted. "You don't need a title to be a hero."

  "Fuckin' A right," he snapped.

  I studied him oddly. That was a strangely modern turn of phrase for the embittered old man. Maybe NPCs really were evolving after all.

  "What are you gonna do about the ceremony?" he asked.

  I casually scratched the side of my head. "What ceremony?"

  He suddenly straightened. "Don't ya know? Bishop Tannen announced a grand ceremony at first light tomorrow. The whole town's invited."

  I blinked, livid that I'd missed it.

  "What?" asked the shopkeeper. "Did you not get sent an invite? Doesn't surprise me. The residents of Dragonperch just might be the only people in town not welcome to the bishop's little party."

  "We'll see about that."

  I worked my jaw. It was slightly after eleven at night. That meant in seven or eight hours, the bishop would throw another wrinkle at us. I was sure the abrupt notice and time were purposeful. Izzy and Kyle were still on lockdown and, as far as the priests knew, I was a victim of their blockade.

  All the more reason to act now.

  "Thanks for all your help, Trafford."

  He contemplated me. "I know that look. You have a new plan, don't ya?"

  I shrugged and headed to the exit. "You know what they say about desperate times."

  The crusaders may have resumed patrolling the city since I was last out, but the darkness seemed to quell the neighborhood. Maybe everyone was calling it a night in order to get up bright and shiny for the ceremony. Either way, it made me a lot less worried about dodging random guards.

  I wished I could be as confident about their refusal to arrest me, but Grimwart's moral character wasn't shared by all. I avoided the well-lit blocks of the Foot and snuck past my old neighborhood, Hillside. Soon enough I was at the meeting of the south wall and the river. I unceremoniously plunked into the water and waded to the river gate.

  Before the siege of Stronghold, we'd once used the entrance to break into the city. During the rebuild the inner and outer gates were repaired with jumbo locks and shiny new keys. I'd made sure to keep copies.

  Unknown to everyone else in the city, I snuck under the thick walls to the outer gate. I took a moment to reconsider before throwing caution to the wind and removing the crown of the wild king from its satin sheath. I tied it to the inside of the gate with a strip of leather. Then I heaved myself up onto a clump of land and settled in.

  Desperate measures indeed.

  1000 Quest for the Crown

  I jerked my head at a snapping branch. I was cold and wet. My back ached.

  Damn. I'd fallen asleep at the river gate.

  My eyes darted to the stag skull. It dangled like bait on the strip of leather. I opened my menu to check the time: 4 a.m. I'd dozed off for the last four hours.

  A slight movement caught my eye in the darkness. It was more of a void than anything else, a section where the star field in the sky didn't appear. But there were two stars, large and glowing, that seemed to shift in unison.

  No, not stars at all. They were the eyes of the warden of the Blackwood.

  I recoiled from the river gate. The eight-foot giant hunched over, half in the water, just outside my field of view.

  "Is this a summons, mortal?" his deep voice beckoned. A black chain snaked along the wall.

  I peeked around the gate before pulling away. The ogre was terrifying up close. Instead of giving in to fear, instead of succumbing to the natural fight-or-flight instincts, I spoke.

  "I've... reconsidered my stance on certain topics these last few days."

  Hood's slow, heavy breathing was my only answer.

  "Perspectives are funny, aren't they?" I asked. Maybe it was the short nap. Maybe it was the liberation of making a decision and stating it aloud, but peace filled me. "Take yourself. Are you a monster or a guard dog?"

  "I am no one's dog," he growled.

  I shook off the misstep. "It's a figure of speech. A compliment, really. You're loyal to your ca
use. Steadfast in your conviction."

  A chain rattled. "A warden must be ever vigilant, and an executioner resolute."

  So he wasn't really one for conversation. People had worse faults. I frowned and asked, "Who is the wild king to you?"

  That was met with a long silence. Maybe the warden was beginning to see the sway of the wind. When he answered, his tone was less threatening, if such a thing was possible from giant mutant ogres.

  "The king," he uttered, "is a man who stands for his people. Better yet, he stands with his people. That can be said of precious few rulers."

  I sighed and glanced toward the city. "I'm gonna be doing something really stupid tonight, Hood. To be honest, it probably won't work out. I don't know where that leaves me and my friends." I chewed my lip, one last bastion of hesitation niggling me. But I'd already come this far. "I have a duty to wield the dragonspear, to fight with it no matter the result. The stag crown, well, it's not part of my calling. I don't want to see it fall into the wrong hands. I wanna give it back."

  Hood snorted in reply, almost in disbelief, but I leaned around the gate to give him a look at how serious I was. The giant's face was hidden behind his black hood, but his eyes, even of pure white, were adequately expressive. I saw a hint of what might have been respect.

  "The decision is wise," he said. "I will take the crown and I will kill you."

  My forehead knotted. "I know you're not the most diplomatic fella, but the point of this meeting is to hug it out. To avoid hostilities."

  He grunted. "This meeting, this choice—you have saved some lives this day. You must know you cannot save your own. The wild king spake. He is owed one soul, and one soul he shall receive."

  I clicked my tongue. "Can't it be someone else's?"

  The warden's answer was steadfast and patient. "Perhaps there are worse pagan killers in all of Haven, but there isn't a more notorious resident of Stronghold. Your negative reputation is astounding. No one is more desirable to the wild king than you. You fought off the goblin horde. You defeated Orik. No one is more hated by the pagans."

  "I thought the wildkins didn't align with them? You weren't part of the siege."