Grand Game 479: Mercenaries

I was half-way to the trapdoor when a Game message interrupted me.

Sector 75,172 has reverted to neutral territory!

The Devil Riders have failed to reinforce the safe zone defenses in the stipulated time and, consequently, have lost control of the sector. All previously applied restrictions have been removed. Anyone may now trade in the safe zone, and you may teleport into and out of it at will. 

“About damned time,” I said, chuckling.

“We’re free to leave?” Ghost asked.

“We are,” I confirmed as I drew to a stop before the trapdoor. Tyelin had assured me the traps around it were deactivated, and I saw no reason to disbelieve him. “Time for you to unmanifest,” I added, glancing over my shoulder at the pyre wolf. The Blades had already seen her, of course, but that was no excuse to give them time to study her at leisure.

Sighing, Ghost did as I asked. “Don’t delay too long, Prime. I miss the Pack.”

I nodded solemnly. Ghost had been patient—more than patient—while I went about my business in the sector, but I knew she yearned to be reunited with the rest of the dire wolves, and the fact that she’d mentioned it now, was testament to how much they weighed on her mind. “We’ll be gone before the day’s out,” I promised.

Not saying anything else, Ghost let her form unravel, but I could tell my response eased her mind.

Ghost has unmanifested. 

Alone once more, I kneeled to inspect the trapdoor.

Tyelin had confirmed what I’d suspected all along, the trapdoor and the secret tunnel beyond had been built by the Blades when they’d owned the fort. The passage ran deep beneath the earth and crossed the river to the adjacent sector.

The tunnel was not as large as I’d assumed though. Only wide enough for two people to walk abreast, its primary purpose was to serve as an escape route.

Which was why the trapdoor could only be opened from the inside.

Using the key I’d taken from Auris I set it into the complicated mechanism that served as the trapdoor’s lock. The trapdoor was more than a physical assembly. It had been fashioned from spells of psi and mana as well to prevent unauthorized use.

Here goes, I thought, turning the key.

You have unlocked a hidden door.

✵ ✵ ✵

As soon as I cracked open the hatch, my mindsight was set alight by a long string of mindglows, one that stretched all the way to the river and beyond. It was the minds of the mercenaries in the secret tunnel, hidden up until this point by whatever wards protected the fort and the trapdoor.

Drawing the hatch all the way back, I peered into the deep shaft beneath. 

A face stared back up at me.

“What took you so long?” Banyen demanded, his face twisted into a scowl.

The Blade’s greeting gave me pause as did the mercenary beside him. The mercenary was not a player as I’d half-expected, nor was he one of the more commonly found races in the Game. He had gills and scales, blue iridescent scales that rippled under the light of the glowing bubble of water sloshing above his left shoulder. 

He looks just like Devlin, I thought. But the Albion Bank manager was a long way away, and I was surprised to see another of his kind here. Reaching out with my will, I analyzed the mercenary.

The target is Haskell, a level 128 lake warden and tratin.

Tratins are an aquatic species that prefer living underwater, either in the Kingdom’s deep oceans or its giant lakes. However, this does not mean they are not as capable on land, and many a land-born foe has found himself undone by a tratin and their inborn water magics.

Ruminating over the Adjudicator’s words, I let my attention wander beyond the pair waiting impatiently at the foot of the shaft to those behind. All the mercenaries were tratins, not just the one standing beside Banyen. They were also all non-players.

Huh. Fancy that.

“Well?” Banyen demanded, drawing my attention again. “Are you going to just stay there gaping at us or are you going to let down the ladder?”

“You know who I am?” I asked, making no move to release the rope ladder curled up and fastened at the top of the shaft. I didn’t know Banyen, and he didn’t know me, and at the very least, I’d been expecting to be met with suspicion, not… impatience.

“Yes, yes,” Banyen replied testily. “Of course, I do.” Before I could ask how, he went on, “Tyelin was in constant communication with the scouts he had posted above ground. The moment it became clear what direction the battle was taking, they crossed the river and reported in.” He pinned me with a glare. “So, I know all about you, Jasiah. I know you let our people die. And I know you cut a deal with Tyelin.”

“You should be a bit more respectful,” an unseen voice called from further down the tunnel. “Or have you forgotten he is a Power too?”

Banyen stiffened. “Stay out of this old man.”

“That you, Nicola?” I shouted, already knowing that it was. 

“It is,” the under-dweller replied. “Is it true you single-handedly killed all the Riders?”

“Not all of them,” I replied modestly, continuing the shouted conversation much to Banyen’s displeasure. “Only most.”

“It’s safe to come up then?” Nicola asked.

“It is. Malikor is dead. As are his—” 

“So, what are you waiting for?” Banyen demanded, interjecting himself in the conversation again. “Let us up!”

Breaking off, I stared at the Blade. His face was an angry shade of red, but that concerned me less than did his smooth, unlined cheeks and low level—he was only rank thirteen. Banyen was young, both physically and in Game terms. What had Tyelin been thinking leaving him in charge?

Probably, that he wouldn’t end up in charge, I thought morosely.

Still, it looked like I was going to be stuck dealing with Banyen—but hopefully not for long. There was Nicola to consider as well. I liked the underworld merchant and his presence with the mercenaries set me at ease, no matter that I had no idea what he was doing with them.

“I will,” I replied to the impatient Banyen, “on one condition.”

He blinked. “Condition. What condition?”

“On condition no one touches any of my loot,” I said mildly.

Banyen’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Your loot? The Blades possessions are not for the likes of you—” 

“They are,” I said, cutting him off. “Your envoy has already agreed to me taking one item from each of your comrades, and I will abide by my word.” I paused for effect. “But the Riders are a different story. Their gear is mine—every last piece.”

Banyen’s expression darkened. “Those Riders’ deaths were bought with Blade blood! I’ll be damned if—” 

Haskell, the thus far silent mercenary commander, placed a restraining hand on the player and for a wonder he fell quiet—but only for a moment. Shooing away Haskell, Banyen continued in a slightly calmer tone. “And if I refuse your demands?” 

I smiled toothily. “I’ll put someone else in charge.” 

Banyen’s mouth worked soundlessly. But it was rage, not fear, that left him speechless. 

I sighed. It didn’t look like the young Blade was going to be reasonable. Perhaps I should’ve chosen a different tack. Been more diplomatic. But I was done pandering to the players in this sector. If he wants a fight, he’s going to get it.

Suddenly, Nicola shoved his way into view. Placing himself squarely in front of Banyen, he forced Haskell back. “Are you really going to risk the sector for the sake of some loot?” he hissed. Clearly, the merchant and everyone else in earshot had been listening intently. “And disobey your envoy in the process?”

Banyen swallowed. For all that Nicola was a civilian, he still cut an imposing figure. “Very well,” the Blade said, not meeting my gaze. “I accept your conditions.”

“Excellent.” Letting down the ladder, I backed away. “Then come on up and we can talk some more.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Banyen was the first one up, followed closely by Nicola. Ignoring the young Blade, I shook the under-dweller’s hand. “What are you doing here?” I asked curiously. “A battle is the last place I would’ve expected to find a merchant.”

He grunted. “You’d be wrong about that. My kind flocks to these things all the time.” His eyes glittered as he surveyed the corpse-strewn storeroom. “You’ll be surprised to hear how many players find the sudden urge to stock up after a close brush with death.” His gaze darted back to me, studying my blood-spattered apparel. “Or perhaps not. You seem in your element.”

I smiled wolfishly. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”

He shrugged. “Take it as you want.”

I laughed, finding his forthrightness refreshing. “You still haven’t answered my question, though,” I pointed out. “Why are you here? Did you just happen to be in the neighborhood again?”

“Not quite,” he admitted. “This mission was the real reason I was in Blades’ sector in the first place. It’s why I was on hand when Tyelin needed someone to meet you at the river. And it’s why I had to hurry away when our business was concluded.”

I scratched my chin thoughtfully. “So, what are you saying… that you’re a Blade?”

He snorted. “Hardly. I’m here on commission.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “As are they.”

I looked past Nicola to the long line of men and women streaming out of the trapdoor. A colorful, if disparate group, had separated from the mercenaries and were gathering nearby. None of them were tratins, and nearly everything about them was strikingly unique. In one respect, though, they were all similar. Each and every one of them was unarmed.

Civilians.

I turned back to Nicola. “You’re heading to the safe zone,” I guessed.

He nodded. “That’s right. Tyelin has commissioned us to set up shop there.”

It made sense. The campaign to claim the sector was far from over. The Blades might have won the first battle, but more were sure to follow once the dead players revived—all of whom would need to be outfitted before they left the safe zone. 

“I see,” I said, rubbing my chin again. Nicola’s words had given me an idea. “When do you have to be in the safe zone?” It would be at least six hours before the first Blade was reborn.

“Not immediately,” Nicola replied. “Although getting there sooner would be advantageous.” He smiled wryly. “I really don’t fancy dallying here and being killed by a stray Rider.”

“There are none such,” I said, only a little grimly.

The merchant threw me a guarded look but forbore comment. “What makes you ask, anyway? Did you have something in mind?”

Not answering immediately, I surveyed the storeroom again. Banyen had not hung around. Both he and Haskell had left with a long line of mercenaries trailing after them. In all likelihood, they were on their way to secure the safe zone.

The civilians were still huddled together on one side of the room, but I didn’t miss the calculating looks they shot in the direction of the chamber’s dead.

“Actually, I do,” I replied eventually. “How do you feel about taking on a second commission?”

“I’ll not say no to more business,” Nicola said with a smile, then added more cautiously, “As long as whatever you have in mind doesn’t clash with my existing commitments, of course.”

“It won’t,” I promised. “How much time do you have?”

“Before I have to report to the safe zone?”

I nodded.

Nicola thought for a moment. “Five hours, maybe?”

“I can work with that.” 

“What do you need then?”

“Manpower,” I stated bluntly. “Willing and able hands to loot the dead.”

Nicola stared at me. “You want me to loot your kills? All—what is it?—one thousand players? There’s no way I can manage that in five hours!”

“It’s more like two thousand,” I murmured. “And don’t forget the hellbats and demon aspects. Any gear they’re wearing should be collected as well. Not to mention whatever reagents you can extract from the corpses themselves.”

Nicola’s look only grew more incredulous.

“I don’t expect you to do it alone.” I pointed at the other merchants. “Use them. The ones you deem trustworthy, anyway.”

Nicola’s eyes narrowed as his gaze flitted between the merchants and me. “Does that mean you trust me? To loot your kills and keep that bunch in line?”

I smiled. “Who was it that said that an under-dweller would sooner suffer final death than break his word?”

Nicola scowled. “And what is it that you expect us to do with all this loot we’re to gather?”

“Sell it,” I replied promptly.

“What, all of it?” he asked, looking startled.

“Yes.” I said, ignoring the temptation to peruse the stuff first. I would miss out on some interesting items by not doing so, but it didn’t always pay to be thorough. There were times when speed counted for more, and this was one of those times. Besides, cold hard cash was always versatile. “Sell all of it,” I confirmed, “and as fast as you can.”  

“What’s in it for me?”

“Five percent of what you sell.”

His eyes narrowed. “Twenty.”

I snorted. “Not on your life,” I said, throwing his own words from not-so-long-ago back at him.

“Fifteen,” he said. “The others will demand a cut too.”

“Ten,” I countered.

Nicola opened his mouth, no doubt with a counter-offer ready.

 “There must be more than a few legendary pieces waiting in all that,” I said quickly, spreading my arms to encompass the storeroom. “It would be a shame to lose out on them.”

Nicola’s mouth closed with a snap. “I can sell them?”

“Yes,” I replied in a clipped tone. It pained me to lose potentially useful legendary items without even seeing them, but I considered the chances of finding such miniscule, and the ‘loss’—if there were any in the first place—would be offset by the extra money earned.

“Fine,” Nicola replied, equally curt. “Ten percent. But I get to set the prices, and I do all the selling.”

I shrugged. “I don’t care what prices you demand as long as you sell everything.” I paused, thinking of something else. “You will have to wait before putting the Rider gear up for sale, though.”

“For how long?”

“A day at least.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Now is when we would get the best prices. Now, while the Riders are still desperate enough to pay anything to regain their gear and reclaim the sector.”

I grimaced. “That’s exactly why you will wait. I will not rearm the enemy before the Blades claim the sector.”

Nicola looked at me in surprise. “You’ve allied with the Blades? Listening to young Banyen’s complaints, I got a rather different impression.”

“We’re not allies,” I replied. “But our interests are aligned as far as this sector is concerned. I will not see it fall to the Riders again.”

Nicola sighed. “You’re not making it easy, you know?”

I smiled. “Think of whatever you earn through this commission as a bonus. That should make it easier to accept.”

The merchant threw me a filthy look, but he refrained from further argument. “Very well, I agree to your terms.” 

I held up my hand. “One last thing. The Sworn-locked items… are those usual around here?”

“If you’re asking if it’s normal practice for high-tiered civilian-crafted gear to be enchanted such that only a single player or a single group of players can use them, then yes.”

I grimaced. “Is there any way to remove the restriction?”

Nicola frowned. “Not without spending nearly the same amount it cost to create the item in the first place. Why do you ask?”

“Idle curiosity, that’s all,” I said, sticking out my arm. “We have a deal?”

He clasped my hand. “We do.”