CPC-02. Couch Potato Crisis, page 45
part #2 of Couch Potato Chronicles Series
“Are you willing to serve me, Shona?”
“Yes, Knight of Entropy. If you’ll promise I’ll never be a slave again.”
“You have my word. Now, tell me quickly, where’s the city’s save point?”
Shona pointed. “The city has three. The closest is a few blocks that way. The second is outside the eastern gate. The last is”—she pointed along a road that led uphill—“up where the wealthy humans live.”
Borgrim asked, “Why do you want to know about the save points?”
Kegan looked directly at the orc. The Veil of Untethered Light made the effect more intimidating than it would have been otherwise. “We’re going to bury all three save points.”
Borgrim’s face was blank. “But…that’s a war crime.”
One of the few rules of war observed by both Questgivria and Zhakara was that save points themselves should never be buried or obstructed. When a save point was completely buried, anyone registered at that save point would remain trapped in Oblivion indefinitely.
“Do you have a problem with that, Borgrim?”
“Not at all, boss, but you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to operate outside Questgivrian law.”
“I don’t understand,” said Shona.
“Burying the save points will stop anyone from resurrecting. At least until we’re ready to deal with them.”
“Then leave this one to us,” said an elven man. “Will covering it with dirt and rocks be good enough?”
Kegan nodded. “Yes, as much as you can. As long as no part of the save point’s surface remains exposed, nobody will be able to spawn.”
He turned to the orc. “Take some elves to the eastern gate. Make sure the save point is buried.” He addressed Shona. “Can you take me to the third save point?”
“Yes. Let’s hurry.”
As Shona led him uphill, before following her, under his breath, he muttered, “I’m sorry, Gwenestry. I can’t come with you after all. But I can make them pay.”
Shona stopped and turned back. “Did you say something?”
“It’s nothing, Shona. Lead the way.”
In the weeks and months that followed, Ironfall became an elven stronghold, a place where the roles of humans and elves were reversed. The name Knight of Entropy became known throughout the land, surfacing as rumors of an elven king whose face distorted and repelled light, and who spoke with a monstrous voice.
Chapter 29
The Gathering
Queen Aralynn Murderjoy sat at the head of the long wooden table. To her left sat Logan, an advisor. A young man, he wore shoulder-length brown hair, and bore a strong physique. The queen preferred to surround herself with attractive men. Beauty meant strength.
She stopped relying on Gelkorus after his failure. Thanks to that bumbling old fool, she’d nearly lost the princess. Since the old wizard did recapture Kiwistafel and had delivered her to Doctor Penfold’s lab, she hadn’t dismissed him from her service entirely. There were certain advantages to having a warp-capable time mage in her inner circle. If nothing else, it cut her travel time significantly.
Instead, Gelkorus was relegated to sitting at the far end of the conference table, as far from her as possible without actually leaving the room. His failure couldn’t go unpunished.
On her right sat the elven princess. Once Kiwistafel had agreed to work for her, she’d been surprisingly forthcoming. She provided the location and disposition of Questgivrian military forces within Questgivrian borders, though that information was months old by now and of limited practical use.
She turned to Logan. Though he was much younger then Gelkorus, he was an experienced veteran from the previous elven war. “What have we learned about this so-called ‘Knight of Entropy’ person who’s single-handedly taken over a major city?”
Logan said, “We don’t know much about him, other than that he’s male and has elven features. He wears a mask that distorts his face and voice, and he’s impervious to scan. We don’t know his true name, but his title implies he’s a servant of Entropy, the Snake God of Destruction.
“It seems he used a modified version of our city-killer weapon. They must have modified it to target humans instead of elves. We received a letter from King Questgiver denying responsibility for the deployment of that weapon or association with this ‘Knight of Entropy’.”
Murderjoy shifted in her chair. “And what has this Knight person been doing with my city?”
“He’s reversed the natural order of things. The elven population now controls the city, while humans have been subjugated. Masters have become slaves, and they’re killing humans for experience as they respawn at the save points. Other than what they’ve done within the walls of Ironfall, they’ve taken no aggressive actions. They seem content to remain within the confines of the city.”
Kiwistafel said, “Your majesty, it might be wise to attack them before they have a chance to grow too powerful. Right now, the elven population is at a low level, but the longer we wait, the harder it gets to retake the city.”
Logan’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “What would a pampered elven girl know of war and strategy? Be silent, child, the humans are talking.”
“I agree with the princess,” said Gelkorus. “We know little of this ‘Knight of Entropy’ person or what powers he commands. He’s an unknown element, and one we shouldn’t ignore. Once that nuisance is dealt with, we can focus on reinforcing the front lines.”
“And why should we listen to an old has-been like you, Gel?”
“Stop your bickering,” the queen said. “I appreciate your advice, princess, but Ironfall is so far from the capital and the front lines, it poses little risk to the larger conflict. They’re only one city, ruled by a madman with no hope of reinforcements. We believe our forces are better utilized reinforcing Aberystwyth. Once winter passes, it’ll serve as a launching point to take the elven capital.”
“A wise decision, my queen,” said Logan. “Moving on, we’ve received reports that Blobby has vacated the bay. There have been no attacks or sightings for over two months. We have the ships, and with the terror of the bay absent, we can launch an invasion fleet. We could capture the capital in months instead of waiting for spring.”
Gelkorus pursed his lips. “I would caution against this. We know nothing of Blobby’s current whereabouts. For all we know, this is a trap. He might be trying to lure us in.”
The queen nodded. “We’re forced to agree. Until we learn why Blobby is absent from the bay, it would be…”
She trailed off as a sudden upsurge in ambient mana washed over her body, like water running through a brook. “Do you feel that?”
Gelkorus nodded. “Yes. Something is drawing massive quantities of mana.”
Logan glanced back and forth between the queen and Gelkorus. “I feel nothing.”
Murderjoy shook her head dismissively. “That’s because you aren’t a mage, you fool!” Of Gelkorus she asked, “Could this be a nation or world-tier spell?”
Gelkorus stood, and pointed. “The mana is flowing south-southwest. It’s being cast from within Zhakara. We can rule out a world-tier spell. There isn’t enough mana being drawn for that. It’s nation-tier, and I’d say it’s elvish in origin.”
“You can tell?” asked Kiwi.
“It is only a supposition. Elves tend to draw constant amounts of mana when casting, while humans are more sporadic. This could be some new elvish weapon.”
Murderjoy addressed the princess. “What do you know of this?”
“Nothing, I swear,” Kiwi said. “I’m unaware of any spell my father planned to use within Zhakara.”
The queen stood and balled her hands into fists. “Gelkorus, find out where this is being cast from, now!”
“Yes, my queen. Though, based on the direction, I think I already know. It’s coming from the city where Kiwi was hiding.”
“McBreakfast Sandwiches?” asked Kiwi. “But that city was empty except for two children and a fairy. Hold on, I’ll check my city interface.”
She navigated her menu, tapping on the city builder interface. “It says the city has a population of over 9000 people, all elves!”
“It’s over 9000‽” Logan glared at the princess. “Why didn’t you tell us this sooner, elf?”
“I didn’t know. I promise!”
“No matter,” said the queen. “What’s done is done. Taking the city is now our top priority.” To Logan, she said, “I want a deployment plan within the hour. Find out how quickly we can assemble a force to reach the elven stronghold.”
“Yes, my queen.”
“It’s imperative that we prevent them from completing the spell.”
“But, we don’t even know what it is,” Logan protested.
“You want to let them finish so we can find out? Whatever they’re doing can’t be good for us. Be sure to include me in your battle strategy.”
“You want to be part of the attacking party?”
“Of course. We need to stop this nation-level spell quickly. I possess the Orb of Fire—it would be foolish not to include me in such a raid.”
“What about me?” asked Kiwistafel.
“You’ll be by my side. This’ll be your first engagement as a general, and it’ll serve as an opportunity to show what you’re made of.”
Kiwi bowed slightly. “Yes, my queen.”
From her inventory, Murderjoy removed an onyx stiletto with a long sleek blade of black metal and handed it to Kiwi. “Take this. It’s a level 90 orihalcum dagger with a spell that removes level restrictions.”
Kiwi hefted the blade. It was light. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s effective,” the queen corrected. “We let children borrow it so they can use it to kill much more powerful elven slaves to gain experience. Even as low level as you are right now, you could use it to deal damage to high level enemies. It could be the difference between life and death. The spell to remove level restrictions will activate when you first use it on a target, so don’t use it unless you’re ready to kill someone.”
“I understand. I’ll use this if my life is threatened.”
“We can’t have our elven figurehead die, after all.”
“Yes, my queen.”
Tasha rode Denver through the battlefield beyond the besieged city. The winter snow fell in thick layers, covering the battlefield, reducing both mobility and visibility. Snowflakes melted as they touched her skin, a result of her magically augmented clothing. Dusk was still an hour away, but the night would bring no end to the fighting. The enemy kept up their siege of the city, day and night.
Smoke billowed as a giant fireball flew toward the towering city walls. The rush of its heat caressed her skin as it passed overhead. It struck the city’s force field, shattering as it did, but dealing hundreds of hearts worth of damage, further depleting the force field’s power. For the moment, though, the field still held..
Four Zhakaran soldiers—three men and a woman—surrounded her, blocking her way. Each wore red and black Zhakaran uniforms. Denver darted toward the first, a swordsman. Once in range, Tasha swung the RC-Blade, slicing the hapless enemy into upper and lower halves which both fell to the ground. As he’d only been level 7 to her 46, a single attack was sufficient to finish him off. A brief moment of exhilaration and satisfaction overtook her at the kill. The second swordsman went down as easily, leaving only a spearwoman and a mage.
How many people had she killed over the course of the last two days? She’d lost count, but she’d gained more experience from killing humans than she ever had slaughtering mist-generated mobs.
She cast a fireball at the spearwoman, wreathing her in flames. She fell screaming, rolling to put the fire out. Denver grabbed the woman’s head in his mighty jaw and bit hard, ending her futile struggle.
Denver was normally such a gentle soul, like a playful puppy most of the time. During the chaos of battle, however, her velociraptor transformed into a ruthless war-beast who showed not the slightest mercy.
The mage tried to run, but Tasha chased him down and finished him off quickly, painting the snow red with blood.
Low-level humans comprised the vast bulk of the enemy force. There were elite level 70 and 80 warriors among their ranks, but the cannon fodder ranged between levels 5 and 30.
Lieutenant General Ciarra J’wellen had asked Tasha to put some low level troops into her party to benefit from her rapid leveling ability. It was a good idea, and she cycled through different party members quickly—adding and removing between duels—in an attempt to maximize the skill’s usefulness.
Because of low-level additions, Tasha carefully avoided high concentrations of enemies or the particularly high-level soldiers who were beyond her capability.
Then there was Murderjoy. Rarely seen on the battlefield, she’d made several appearances, attempting in every instance to bring down the city walls. One of her attacks had nearly breached the eastern wall, but it seemed there were limits to how long an orb-user could employ an elemental orb at a given time. Tasha kept her distance from Murderjoy. She was no match for the sorceress queen.
Instead, she scoured the battlefield for targets of opportunity when a familiar figure approached. It was Ari, astride a speeding velociraptor. When he arrived, he said, “You’re needed back at the city, quickly.”
“What’s happened?”
“I don’t know. A message arrived from general J’wellen asking for you. She’s waiting on the eastern wall.”
“Got it. We could both use a break, right boy?” She patted Denver on the neck, and he screeched his agreement.
Twenty minutes later, Tasha and Ari had returned to the city. A few enemies tried to block their path, but none who proved a challenge for the two experienced fighters.
“Absolutely not!” The young elven girl glared at Pan across the inn’s table. Her name was Nemain Heartfire, a squire in the Questgivrian army. She looked younger than Pan, but being an elf, was probably much older. Nemain’s fiery red hair had been done up in a single elaborate braid that ran down to her hips.
“But—”
“My answer is no. And if I’d known what you were going to ask me, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet.”
“But why won’t y…you help me?” Pan asked.
“You understand what you’re asking, right?” The elven girl squinted at her. “You want me to give up my summoner class just so you can spend more time with your imaginary friend.”
“He’s n…not imaginary,” Pan protested.
“He’s a figment of your imagination, same as any other summon. My figments are no different.”
“But he raised me. He’s my d...dad.”
The elven girl sighed. “I understand why you might see it that way, but think of it from my point of view. The only reason they allowed a young girl like me to join the army is because I can summon. If I lost my class, they’d send me home. All I’ve ever wanted was to fight for my people, but you’d take that away from me, to fulfill a personal ambition. What a spoiled child you are, full of selfish desire and unchecked hubris. Don’t trouble me again with this nonsense.”
“Please, I’ll do anything. J...just tell me what you want.”
Nemain stood. Before leaving she said, “Short of winning the war, I can’t think of anything.” The young woman fidgeted and rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as though it took every ounce of patience to remain civil. “I need to return to the southern wall. My figments are necessary for its defense.”
After she left, Fin sat across from Pan on Neimain’s freshly vacated barstool. “That didn’t go well. How many does that make now?”
“Three.” The Questgivrian army had continuously deployed soldiers to McBreakfast Sandwiches, and of all those to date, only three had been summoners. The last two had let her down easier than Nemain, but their answers were negative.
Other than Ardras, who’d been safely returned to his home, she hadn’t met a single summoner willing to give up their class. Pan wasn’t especially rich, so she didn’t have a fortune to offer in exchange for their help. Had she been in any of their positions, she probably would have refused as well.
“What will you do now?” asked Fin.
Pan shook her head. “I’ll k...keep looking for other summoners, I suppose.”
“At least Ardras agreed to help you. But if you think about it, he doesn’t have anything to lose. Nemain and the others do. She probably worked her entire life at leveling her class.”
An elven soldier entered the bar. “Pan? Good, I’ve found you. General J’wellen wants to see you at once. She’s at the top of the eastern wall.”
Fin took Pan’s hand, helping her up. “We’ll go together.”
Tasha stood atop the eastern wall, observing the enemy reposition itself in the valley beyond the city. Zhakaran soldiers marched in formation, making up numerous grids of soldiers divided by level and class. At the fore of every battalion stood the melee users, followed by mages and projectile users in the back, with healers interspersed amidst their ranks.
Companies of velociraptor-mounted cavalry moved independently of the larger battalions. While fighting on the ground, Tasha had learned to avoid them, since they could easily pursue her in the event that she had to retreat.
Since the enemy forces appeared two days ago, the attacks had been continuous. The walls held, but the enemy was relentless. Killing an enemy soldier did little but send them to respawn at the enemy camp on the northern plateau.
This is how wars were fought in a world of immortals. It was a game of wearing down your enemy’s spirit, and the besieger always held the advantage, especially if they controlled nearby save points.
The pull of the spell had drawn the enemy here. Even now, a week into the casting, Tasha felt the flow of mana directed to the city arena. The ruined city of McBreakfast Sandwiches had once had an arena used for bloodsport. They’d force orcs and elves to battle one another for the base entertainment of their human citizens.
