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  I measured his words carefully. "You're telling me that not only can't you see the players, but you can't see anything that goes on in the region."

  He paced along the tower wall. "Haven absolutely must appear pristine to the public eye. After your actions, a reboot is out of the question. Wiping won't work. We're neither interested in nor able to circumvent the permanency protections. We can't risk compromising our credibility or the entire monetization strategy, which relies on guaranteed security. The only thing to do is contain the game within the game." He moved close and lowered his voice. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Kablammy finds itself in a bit of a crisis at the moment. Current funding will expire if Haven is delayed any further. The only solution is to plow full steam ahead."

  My brow furrowed. "In other words, you need to hurry the launch before everything's a clusterfuck."

  "That is," he muttered, "regrettably accurate."

  I nodded grimly. This little conversation wasn't relieving the burden I'd been feeling lately. This city was a far cry from the utopia I'd first awoken in. Players unable to play the game. Feeling pain. Armies marching through. And Stronghold was a fat lot better off than Shorehome.

  I sighed in resignation. "And you're sure that flooding the countryside with zealots is the best way to defeat the pagans?"

  "There is no single best way, but we influence the game with the game. The crusaders are one tool available to Kablammy. Activated and upgraded to take the pagans on, defend Stronghold, and win back Shorehome."

  "And do anything else you command."

  "They're NPCs, Talon, not saints. They work independently and have their own motives, if that's any consolation."

  "And the angels?"

  "Another tool, but one that appears broken. We've lost contact with the two hunters that have been dispatched, and for now the game sees no reason to send others."

  "So we need to rely on the knights."

  "You're dismissing the best tool at our disposal."

  I studied him blankly.

  "The players, themselves, Talon. Another independent force driven by their own interests. That is what you sought, after all. Independence. Agency."

  I rolled my eyes unenthusiastically. "Points for turning my argument back on me."

  I didn't outwardly show it, but Saint Peter was on to something. It wasn't enough to simply say he was right. I wasn't coldly analyzing this as a textbook ethics class. Rather, something inside me was stirred by this calling. Something I once would've called a heart. Now I wondered if it was my soul.

  The rumbling in my chest grew until I realized a regiment of soldiers was on the march two hundred feet below.

  "It is time," prodded Saint Peter, "for action."

  Black and white tunics emblazoned with white and gold crosses stomped ahead in a menacing formation. Stragglers in the ruins hurried to flee their path, but most remained on the outskirts. This had the makings of a town event. Forty troops marched on Dragonperch, but a hundred spectators were in tow.

  I turned to Saint Peter, but he was gone. "These guys are like Batman," I grumbled.

  I watched from the battlements as the regiment paused before the impressive tower. They froze in unison, swords at their side. Grimwart was among them, but they were led by the white-clad priests.

  "Heroes of Stronghold," announced Bishop Tannen. His voice carried clearly to my lofty heights. "Come and make your reparations."

  I ground my teeth, twirled the spear in hand, and headed downstairs.

  0640 Challenge from the Dark Side

  On the way down, I checked the wiki for any info on Oakengard and Bishop Tannen. All I found were recent posts heralding him as a savior after his arrival in Stronghold. That made sense since there were no players in the Oakengard area. Still, the army backing him up made him as legit as it got.

  Izzy fell in step behind me, capably aware of the new situation. She was always on her toes. I imagined Kyle was still sleeping one off.

  "You don't need to go out there just because he summoned you," said Izzy.

  "I know. I wanna hear him out."

  "Then I'm coming out too. He did technically summon all of us."

  "That he did." I swiped the wiki closed. "You ready?"

  She nodded. I pushed the huge tower door open. Its motion was mostly driven by magic; a single person could never manage such a feat, even without the wards. The field of soldiers watched in silence as we came into view. The scraping of the door stopped and left only the lapping wind.

  I wish I could say the soldiers wore merry faces, but they were each as steely as Saint Loras. They looked ready for battle.

  Bishop Tannen and Colonel Grimwart waited as Izzy and I approached their regiment.

  "The keepers of Dragonperch," remarked Tannen with jealous flair. "What a nice place to live."

  "It even gets HBO," I said.

  "Such a holy place should be in the hands of the catechists."

  "Sorry. No vacancy."

  He smiled. "Worry not, hero. I have taken the Circus for my needs. Its ample seating and race course are more suitable for an army."

  I couldn't hide my worry. "You're moving in?"

  "For a time. Oakengard is well protected in the west. I think you'd agree that Stronghold is the most vulnerable point of attack. As the city's Protector, you should grant its residents any edge."

  Murmurs washed over the crowd. These priests unsettled me. They'd been in town one hour and had already won the culture war. But everyone was free to make up their own mind.

  "You seem to misunderstand, Bishop," I said in return. "I've pledged to protect this city, but I've not been appointed to lead it. I don't presume to grant or deny the townspeople anything."

  Stray chuckles supported my statement. Maybe the people wanted a leader. Someone besides the saints. Someone who really lived here and was subject to the same troubles. I had no right to that claim.

  "Well said," replied Tannen.

  Izzy stepped forward. "What's this we hear of reparations?"

  The bishop's face soured, at least what little I could make out from the cross-shaped opening in his helmet. "There are many," he said with indignation. "This public nuisance, for one." He waved to the embers floating down the river. "We can't have you burning down a sacred monument."

  "The tower's fine," I said through clenched teeth. "Kyle's alchemical talents served Stronghold well during the goblin raid. He's simply... refining the process."

  "He's a drunkard." Bishop Tannen turned to the crowd. "The catechists are no enemies to the sciences, but we are indeed abstainers from those vices which seek to weaken us. Integrity, resolve—these are things men must fervently protect."

  "And women," added Izzy.

  He flashed a smile. "Women have their place, but I'm afraid there is none for mysticism. We must be careful not to run afoul of evil magicks. To invite that power into our hearts is to invite havoc into our cities."

  Grimwart studied the floor. The bishop was overstepping his welcome with that comment. Disparaging mystics meant alienating a quarter of the player base, and he wasn't exactly speaking highly of women either. It made me wonder exactly what kind of culture existed in Oakengard.

  "Let's not play high and mighty, Bishop." I held my spear in the air. "It takes all of us to preserve our livelihood."

  Tannen's eyes followed the spear. We were close enough now that he could speak without hitting the crowd's ears. "It must feel powerful to brandish such a weapon, even a stolen one."

  I tensed and spun the spear, spiking it into the dirt road. "You want it? Come get it."

  The bishop waited a beat, doubtless measuring the steps between him and the dragonspear. Six, by my count. Instead of taking action, however, he arched an eyebrow and raised his voice. "Theft and force are inadequate claims, Talon. Great deeds are required of the spear wielder. Proof that he is worthy."

  "Is my past not enough?"

  "Your past." Tannen snickered. "Are you referring to s
tanding against a holy angel?"

  My smirk faded.

  "Or perhaps you refer to your collusion with the great evil, Lucifer?"

  "That wasn't—"

  "The action of a righteous man? Tell me, Talon. Are you in league with the so-called Fallen Angels? Have you ever been?"

  I pressed my lips together. "They're no friends of mine."

  "Then prove it," he announced. "Show us what the great Protector is worth! Show us that you're worthy of the dragonspear!"

  The cheering of the people was a mad jumble now, muddying our supporters and Tannen's together. Hell, the lines were so blurred many probably supported us both at the same time. The people didn't care about a battle of wits. They didn't care about the responsibilities of my mantle. They cared about their homes and their fortunes. As with everything, it came down to blood and treasure.

  "I don't trust this guy," whispered Izzy. "He's a serious creeper."

  "Right there with you," I muttered. Then, as soon as the crowd quieted, I hefted the dragonspear from the ground and called out, "I'm here for the people. If you've got a solution, sign me up."

  Where I'd hoped to surprise him, Tannen's golden eyes squinted with pleasure. "Excellent!" he cried, arms upraised. Once again, bellows from the crowd took over.

  "What're you doing?" snapped Izzy.

  "This is it," I told her. "This is how I contribute."

  She winced in objection but left it at that.

  The bishop lowered his arms and turned to me. "And worry not, Protector. The solution is a straightforward one. The crusaders will lead a small scouting party to Shorehome. We must see to the plight of the families. We must also secure the Squid's Tooth from the Great Well. Just as with the Eye of Orik, if the pagans recover the Squid's Tooth, there will be drastic consequences."

  I couldn't believe it, but I found myself nodding along. "A small band over a crusading army. I actually think it's a good idea."

  "That is well, Talon, because the party requires a scout." He paused in mock conjecture. "Your class is scout, is it not, Protector?"

  I shouldn't have been surprised. This is what Saint Peter had been prepping me for. Standing up for the players of Shorehome. Restoring peace to Haven.

  On the plus side, if I went along I could make sure things were done properly. This might just be the vacation I needed.

  I didn't answer, but Tannen read the assent on my face. "Good. The citizens of Stronghold place great faith in you."

  Grimwart stepped closer, relieved the politics were over with. "We must leave at once, Talon."

  "Whoa there," said Izzy. "Our brewmaster's on twenty-four-hour lockdown. We'll need at least a day."

  Tannen's eyes flashed. "Talon will accompany the party alone."

  "Fat chance of that," interjected Izzy, lowering her winter staff menacingly. "I'm not letting him level up on his own."

  "There will be no pixies in the scouting party. This is a battle against the monsters."

  "Watch it, tough guy."

  I stepped between them. "If you want my help, Bishop, you'll make an exception. You're not splitting up the city's defenders, are you?"

  His eyes flitted to the audience and he snickered. Grimwart moved close and urged him with a whisper. The bishop was not pleased, but he complied. "Do what you will, but you must leave at once." He stormed off to his priests.

  Grimwart collected two horses and led them forward. "The lady is welcome to join the party, but it is imperative that we act now."

  Izzy's indigo lips twisted. "So the party's gonna be split up regardless. Kyle's on lockdown."

  I scowled. "It can't be helped."

  "Oh, come on," she fired back. "What have you got to prove?"

  "Everything."

  I turned to the tower and let out a sharp whistle. Before Grimwart could hand me the horse's reins, Bandit came charging from the tower. She was every bit as strong and stout as the war horses. The broad V-shaped horns and cream-colored stripes drew everyone's eye, especially Bishop Tannen's.

  Jeez. The priests had problems with drinking, mysticism, nonhumans, and now non-horses as well? Were these guys uptight or what? Even Grimwart watched Bandit warily as she slowed to my side. The knight in black armor turned instead to help Izzy onto her horse.

  "I can manage," she grumbled as she hopped neatly onto the stallion's back.

  "So you can," he said curtly. "And you, Bishop? Will you be requiring a mount?"

  Tannen stiffened in surprise and loosened the gold cape at his neck. "Alas, I am needed in Stronghold. But I will send holy support in my stead. Strict devotion to the duties of man will serve as a strong example to counter Talon's less-than-savory inclinations."

  Ugh. Gimme a break.

  Still, I couldn't say I was disappointed by the bishop's decision. As Dragonperch's tower sealed itself, I knew it would be impregnable to any forces, no matter the size. And Kyle would be around to keep an eye on it. Whoever Tannen sent couldn't be nearly as bad as the big man himself.

  In spite of the embarrassing misstep, Tannen made one more bold proclamation to emphasize his authority. "We have our scout," he proclaimed, commanding rapt attention from the crowd. "We have our holy guidance." He swept his arm from the priests to Grimwart and his men. "We have a wartime colonel and veteran soldiers. There is just one last thing."

  Bishop Tannen paced before the many spectators now. "We still require a guide. A single able-bodied man who is familiar with the ins and outs of Shorehome. One who is no stranger to violence. One who is willing to sacrifice everything for his home and his people, even if it means his life." He scoured the audience with a wave of his hand. "Do I have any volunteers?"

  The masses hushed as they waited for the boldest among them to come forward. One man jostled through to us. As I saw him, I deflated.

  "You've got to be shitting me."

  Errol Oates, pirate captain and Scar of the Six Seas, showed his teeth as he bowed before the great bishop. His eyes were fixed firmly on me.

  0650 Heroes of Might and Magic

  The catechist procession led the march. It was a symbolic gesture that didn't sit well with me. The whole town saw the bishop at the head of the scouting party, but it wasn't like he was endangering himself by, you know, actually going on the journey with us.

  I choked back my pride and just took it in. The disciplined crusader cavalrymen. The exalted manner of the priests. The exuberant cheers of the populace, always hungry for something to root for. I wondered if the saints were watching us from some far-off perch. Were they pleased with the parade or disgusted by the charade?

  I impressed upon myself that this wasn't all for show. I pounded it in my head again and again. I was here to do something. To make a difference for the better. I didn't yet know exactly what I could do, but Izzy and I would try. And if a few extra suits of armor wanted to come along for the ride, so be it.

  The procession swept past the Pleasure Gardens, a sprawling tract of bountiful curated parkland. Perfect in every sense of the word. It was a playground for the rich elite, but technically accessible to anyone with enough money for a pass. That meant most adventurers could reward themselves with a visit after the occasional bounty, but regular attendance was lavishly excessive.

  The catechists eyed the grounds with a show of distaste. They were a sect of abstainers, priests at the top of the crusader pyramid. Of course anything so... human... would offend their sensibilities.

  The east gate groaned open before us, a carbon copy of the familiar site on the west wall. I'd never actually exited on this side of the city before. We weren't even clear of town and already the journey was a new experience. I wondered what surprises the fishing seaport of Shorehome offered. Our throng passed through the gate to the tended land.

  Once again, the view was mirrored by the west. Countless tents and hovels spattered the fields. Instead of the well-equipped crusader force from Oakengard, however, these were drifters and displaced refugees from Shorehome. The more recen
t transplants hadn't been processed into the city yet. I gawked at their sheer number and began to understand what it meant for an entire city to fall. One of the nine. Picked off, like the two missing angel statues comprising the Golden Seven. I also started to understand the scope of the challenge Stronghold faced.

  Tannen and his men stood aside to let us pass. He gestured magnanimously and made some grand statements to the beleaguered crowd, but I couldn't be bothered to listen. I couldn't help these people. At least not here and now.

  A horse cantered to Bandit's side. The man had the white tunic and gold cross of the catechists, full plate but no helmet. Locks of yellow hung over his ears, headed by the words [Cleric Vagram].

  "It's a sobering sight, is it not?" he asked.

  I grunted. "I thought everything with you priests was sober."

  The corners of his lips betrayed a smile. "The pleasures of the flesh do not lead a man to ruin, but they certainly open the door."

  "That your idea of a pep talk?"

  His horse whinnied as it stepped away from Bandit. Vagram steadied the reins. "She's nervous in the presence of your mount. Would you not prefer a more distinguished animal?"

  The mountain bongo snorted emphatically. A spray of phlegm shot out of her nose.

  "She's distinguished," I said.

  "She's a pagan beast, Talon."

  "She helped me fight the pagans," I asserted. "Time after time."

  "Indeed?" He studied the animal with interest.

  I wasn't too keen on talk of the pagans. It led my thoughts to the wild king—his responsibility to his people, his denial of affiliation. I was beginning to wonder what exactly the definition of a pagan was.

  I turned to look for Izzy and was surprised to find her riding beside Grimwart. What didn't surprise me was that she wasn't very talkative. Content silence. I would've killed for that simple interaction right now. Soon enough, I supposed. Behind her, and a safe distance away from me, rode the pirate, Errol.