Universe One; The Game of Lives
By Thomas Baskerville
Chapter 16; Freedom
The little town of Freedom, once a rural collection of houses lined upon a single short dirt road, had changed in the last twenty years. More houses, more roads too. The little tavern Staff had first met Cathie was now a large and profitable Inn, and a barracks had also popped up. The on and off skirmishes that every now and again reminded them all the kingdom of Virki hadn’t ever officially ended the war despite both admins refusing to play any further part within it. For once, a war that had to be fought with soldiers instead of Gods and cannon fodder. Yet it was not the presence of the barracks that prevented Dwarven raids on such a prosperous but also isolated community. If anything, the soldiers only acted as local law enforcement for the town. Safety was being handled by someone far more capable than them. Even so, every town on the boarder required protection from the king’s army, by order of the king himself many years ago now, so the soldiers here were often stuck with nothing to do but enforce the law and handle petty crime.
Agnus, the head warrior of Freedom’s standing guard, quietly walked out of the barracks and into the reasonably populated brick main road of the town. His full plate armour was more of a uniform than actually needed these days. People felt safe with a bulky, tall Elf armoured up and stamped with the Byw Forest leaf shaped crest. He calmly yawned as his eyes caught the low hanging sun continue to rise above the tree line of the tall trees that surrounded the town almost entirely. In his hand, a small scroll was rolled up tight.
“A bit early for you Agnus.” A familiar voice muttered from behind him. Agnus gave a slight grumble as he turned around. He knew full well only one woman in this town was capable of sneaking up on him. His eyes fell on Cathie Thomson. Bood red hair, and terrifyingly sharp eyes, she was noticeably smaller than him yet commanded far more of a presence. Her lack of armour, her casual middle-class clothing, all an illusion that everyone eventually learnt to see through. This one was by far the most terrifying woman you could come across in this town. A bloodthirsty hunter and monster slayer. She was half the reason the Dwarves never touched this little paradise. Half the reason he was more or less obsolete. Everyone in the street had the clear sense of giving her as much space as possible, while also trying their hardest not to visibly be trying to avoid her.
“Got a report for your husband.” Agnus quietly muttered, clearly still shrugging off a nasty hangover by stubbornly fighting through it, “He around?”
“Off on an errand I’m afraid.” Cathie sighed as she walked past the man, towards the front door to her house, “He shouldn’t be long though. You know how little patience the man has for small inconveniences.” As she finished her words, the faintest wisp of purple caught her eyes. She and Agnus watched as a magical portal tore itself into existence just shy of the door itself. Sam Thomson slowly emerged. A couple of years ago, such a thing would have genuinely astounded Agnus, but he’d learnt over the years to simply accept such things as normal. Sam Thomson, the other reason this town never saw trouble. A man equally as terrifying as his wife. His soft, calm, and general unbothered nature a tight bottle containing a magical power on par with the great legends, perhaps even on par with Merlin the Wise himself.
Cathie, while a terrifyingly strong woman, was at least a warrior, something he could relate to. Sam Thomson was anything but. There was seemingly nothing the man couldn’t do, couldn’t fix with a simple snap of his fingers. That kind of power, that kind of presence, simply wasn’t something Agnus could ever truly comprehend.
“Morning.” He spoke, clearly addressing his wife. Cathie walked past Sam, stopping on the way for a light kiss on the cheek, before she vanished through the front door of their house. It was only then that Sam’s eyes turned and noticed Agnus, his presence insignificant and irrelevant to his senses, “Morning Captain.” He simply remarked. Agnus feigned a weak smile. It was rather ironic for Sam to call him such a thing. Agnus was no captain, not really. Anyone who knew anything about this town knew one simple fact. Despite the soldiers, despite being within the borders of the Byw Forest, this land was truly ruled by the Thomson’s. Their magic, their strength. It was the very lifeblood that allowed this isolated paradise to exist. His presence here was to appease the king, and nothing more.
“I thought you’d like to see this, Mr Thomson.” Agnus spoke with a carefully picked tone. He’d witnessed with his own eyes what became of those who tested the patience of the Thomson family. The most terrifying thing about them was that they never made a threat, never gave a warning. They didn’t need to. Their names alone were all the warning anyone needed in this place. Agnus held out his hand with the scroll still within. Sam’s thin fingers gently plucked the scroll from his palm and began to unravel it. His eyes began to quickly read but stopped about halfway as he realised what it was that he was reading.
“An order to arrest or execute.” He quietly muttered as he lowered the scroll. His eyes fell distant, but squinted with mild irritation, “I guess the king ignored Merlin’s warning.” He then sighed as he handed the scroll back to Agnus. A scroll with the name Sam Thomson written in bold, large writing. Agnus swallowed. The man had handed him, an envoy of the king himself, his own royally sealed arrest warrant without a single care washing over his face.
“You do understand Mr Thomson, that my men and I are oathbound to obey such an order.” Agnus hesitantly pointed out. Sam’s eyes quietly focused. Agnus’ words had brought him out of deep thought. Sam’s eyes quietly locked with Agnus’ as the mage painted a tiny smile on his face. That fact hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“Of course.” He spoke, his words to soft. Spoken like a sweet lullaby tempting him asleep only to receive a sharp knife in his chest the second he closed his eyes. No threat, no flaunt of power. Sam simply kept his eyes trained on Agnus as he uncomfortably squirmed under the pressure. He turned away from Sam’s calm, unnerving stare to the now busy main street behind him. Children excitedly running about, parents desperately hurrying along in an attempt to keep up. Armoured soldiers smiling during their day patrols, the people passing by occasionally drawing them into longwinded, familiar chats and conversations. The peaceful, carefree town before his eyes had been made possible not by the king, but by the man whose wooden porch his feet were firmly planted on. Few in this world held the power to keep such a utopia running, and those that did unquestionably also held the power to turn such a place into a war-torn, land-scarred battlefield. Agnus wasn’t by any means a fool. Even an entire barracks of well-armed soldiers didn’t stand a chance against the Thomson bloodline. Cathie herself was probably capable of handling the lot of them without a single drop of blood being spilled. He didn’t even want to think about what it would take to bring Sam to heel. His options were simple. Report his presence to the armed forces of the capitol, and pray the king held the resources and strength to subdue such a family before they tore everything asunder, or… disobey his own king, and perhaps invite the same wrath upon this town from their own ruler.
Agnus turned back to Sam. His hand tightened, scrunching the scroll. His second hand took hold of one end and tore it in half with his bare strength.
“I hear bandits around these parts are getting ambitious.” Agnus muttered as he firmly accepted his own choice, “Even so bold as to attack messengers with the royal seal.” Sam double blinked. He hadn’t expected such an act from Agnus. The armoured Elf captain watched as the slightest hint of genuine respect found its way flowing out of Sam’s eyes, aimed his way.
“Certainly troubling.” Sam calmly responded, “I’ll see such a bandit problem is dealt with, captain.” Agnus gave him a nod of understanding. With that, the two men turned from one another. Agnus began to walk back towards the barracks, while Sam turned and opened his front door. His eyes narrowed with frustration as they fell upon his middle daughter, Amy, who was patiently waiting for him on the other side.
“I want to go back to Oak.” She stubbornly huffed.
“No.” Sam blatantly shot down, “I’m not going to risk you getting kidnapped a second time.” He added as he walked past her and into the front room of Cathie’s house. A snap of his fingers and the door quietly shut itself behind him.
“I get that I have to hide my real magical capabilities dad, but I want to learn magic, not rot away as some middle-class housewife.” She protested.
“I was hesitant to send you to that school in the first place.” Sam gently sighed, “If your origins are revealed to this world, yo-”
“Trigger a war between the Gods.” Amy interrupted, “I know dad. You made that clear when I asked to learn magic.”
“And what has four years of that school taught you?” Sam pressed, “Orb of Light and some basic spell knowledge?”
“That’s more than you’ve taught me.” Amy huffed. He gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger.
“You’re staying put until I say otherwise.” He firmly reinforced, “That’s final. No more arguments.” Amy’s face puffed up into an infuriated pout, but her father’s stern eyes quickly shot down any further protest from her. Nothing she was going to say would make him change his mind. She quietly scoffed, turned away from him and vanished up the staircase to the second floor of the house.
“I gather trouble is afoot.” Cathie’s voice muttered from behind him. Sam turned to find Cathie stood in the doorway linking the living room to the kitchen, “Agnus certainly doesn’t stir this early for nothing.”
“The little stunt I pulled to protect Amy didn’t exactly go unnoticed.” Sam sighed as his Elven form quietly dissolved, revealing his true divine form underneath. A form Cathie had gotten accustomed to over the years. The sight of one of the Gods of her world held far less shock and awe now that she was married to him, “The king has put out an arrest or execution order for me, so who knows what they’ll try and pull to get their hands on her.”
“Fucking power-hungry mages.” Cathie cursed as she folded her arms, “I know neither of us can, but I have half a mind to paint the branches to the throne bloodred for what they tried to pull.” She muttered through gritted teeth.
“You’re not alone feeling such temptations.” Staff sighed, “But fear not, I’ve a few strings to pull to make things difficult.” He revealed. Cathie quickly perked up with curiosity.
“I wasn’t aware your informant web had assassins in their ranks.” She jokingly teased with a small chuckle. Staff returned a small smile.
“Nothing that direct.” He reassured, “I’d better begin arrangements, but keep an eye on Agnus while I’m gone, just in case.” Cathie gave a nod, and with a flash of bright light, Staff was gone.
***
The capital of Avalon, the city of Honour. A vast population clustered between the outer walls of the giant stone castle of Valour and the defensive moat that lined the outer city limits. Beyond the moat, farmland as far as the eye could see. The structure of Honour itself was a rather simple distribution of wealth. Buildings near the moat were often small, poorly constructed and general slums. Buildings near the defensive walls of Castle Valour were rich, massive and home to the wealthy guilds and nobles of the region. The only building within the wealthy area of Honour that wasn’t linked to such individuals, was the Cathedral of Creation. By far the biggest, most expensive looking building in the entire city, the Cathedral of Creation was the central place of worship for the only religion within the Gameworld that had lasted any amount of time to be noteworthy.
Six giant stain glass windows made up the front of the massive structure. Four of the windows held intricate, powerful, and divine images of the four admins of the Gameworld. The stoic grey armour of Grey the Vigilant, the cunning smirk and dazzle of magic that adorned and surrounded Staff the Wise, the fiery chaos and towering terror of the queen of deception and destruction that was Dracona the Living Flame, and the firm dominance and vast armament of Axe the Forgemaster. The sixth window held a golden but detail lacking outline of a figure that could only represent The Creator himself. Such images were expected in such a place of worship. What was odd however was the fifth window. Unlike the others, which were clearly ancient despite the immaculate care they’d clearly received, the fifth window looked a lot less aged and weathered. It was younger than its companions. The image depicted was a far less intricate image of all four admins, with the golden outline of The Creator standing behind and above. The detail of each figure sacrificed to instead accommodate them all within one.
The rest of the building was constructed from pure white marble, and decorated with gold, silver, ruby, and sapphire accents that made up patterns of intricate detail almost on par with the stained glass designs themselves. If that was not impressive enough, just like the magical schools of Byw, the walls of the Cathedral of Creation were soaked in powerful, shimmering magic. A true rarity within the kingdom of Avalon, as magic was far less prevalent. Deep in the heart of such a breathtaking building, a true landmark of the Gameworld itself topped only by the four seats of power and the Tower of Peace itself, a man dressed in heavy armour took a knee.
Arthur was not a man who took a knee often, but few were foolish enough to disrespect a high priest of the church. Arthur’s full plate armour was pure white, or at least it probably had been back in the day. The metal was old; the armour set a clear relic of its time. Rust, dents, and visible patchwork repairs had all taken its toll. The high priest before him, a tall gentleman adorned with a thick golden necklace and white robes that put most mage robes to shame simply with how well it was tailored to his specific body shape. He looked down upon Arthur’s bowed head with slight distain, as he’d failed to remove his metal helmet in his presence.
“You summoned me, your eminence.” Arthur spoke with a withered, elderly voice.
“Arthur Pendragon.” The high priest began, “Your deeds are many. Your failures are few. I have a request made by a valuable ally of the church.”
“It must be quite the quest to bring it to my attention, unless I have to remind the church again, I am no common adventurer. I seek only the strongest of opponents.” Arthur sternly spoke; his head still bowed despite his words. The high priest’s eye twitched, but the man pushed his irritation aside.
“Yes, I am aware of your goal to obtain immortality… The king of Elves has called for the head of a mage able to best the legendary Grandmaster Morgan.” The priest revealed. Arthur’s head looked up at the man, “As a member of the Pendragon bloodline, you are a capable mage slayer, correct?”
“What title does this troublesome mage hold?” Arthur quickly pressed. The high priest fell silent in hesitation as he considered whether or not to answer Arthur’s question truthfully.
“He is known to the legendary mage Merlin as Sam Thomson.” He revealed.
“His title!” Arthur sternly demanded of the man. The high priest scowled silently before soon deciding to relent. This was a job he could not afford to not be completed.
“It is rumoured he is also known as Sam the Wise.” Arthur slowly pulled himself off his one knee kneel to now stand upright, “Will that be a problem?”
“What is his crime?” Arthur continued to push, ignoring the priest’s question entirely.
“From what I have gathered, defying the God chosen king of the Byw Forest and his rule.”
“The church has certainly chosen an enemy it probably shouldn’t have.” Arthur remarked, “But no… such a man shall not be an issue for me.” He assured the priest.
***
Within this world that at times resembles a virtual game to those born outside, a level system was certainly in place for all living beings. Everyone within the four major races started at level zero upon birth and levelled through experience earned through mastery of life itself. Successfully cooked a perfect loaf of bread for the first time? Experience. Slayed a deadly high-level wolf? Experience. Success rewards strength within this world. Each level increases health, mana, and base stats such as strength or agility. Yet like everything else within this world, the levelling system of the Gameworld is a harsh, gruelling path rarely explored. Most people rarely make it above level fifty. Those who live combat orientated lifestyles such as soldiers, adventurers, and criminals of high renown, usually find themselves above level one hundred eventually. The most efficient regiment for gaining experience allowed for two levels to be earned a month. With the maximum lifetime of a living person hardcoded into this world at one hundred years, that meant the theoretical highest level anyone could achieve was two thousand four hundred. It is said that at the beginning of this world, when the four kingdoms were nothing but a dream in the eyes of the four first, The Creator himself vowed to grant immortality to anyone who successfully achieved this maximum level. No one in the history of the Gameworld has achieved this. To gain so much experience without slipup, without one unlucky day when the odds are seemingly forever stacked against you, most who seek this goal die in the heat of vicious combat simply from rolling that dice far too many times.
With regards to the Admins, their characters were automatically granted the maximum level upon their creation. Other beings created instead of born can begin their life starting at a level other than zero as well. Summoned beasts scale from the power from which they were conjured, and certain powerful monsters gain experience far faster than most residents of the Gameworld. One example of a creature often found at extremely high levels due to gaining experience so easily, is the Legendary Tree Spirits of the Byw Forest. Aberrations of wood, leaf, and moss. These creatures were no simple beast; they are a force of nature that gained a level for every year they existed within this world, and such things could live very, very long lives. Few things within the dark corners of the forest could match such strength. Yet there was also the rare chance such creatures could become corrupted. Triggered by too much damage to nature itself, when a powerful tree spirit falls to become a corrupted tree spirit, their level tended to hit the maximum. Such a monster holds enough power to even make the Admins blink. The only thing on par with its power beyond the Gods were the ancient Dragons of Gehenna. Creatures able to bring entire kingdoms to heel with their might. Such things marked the hight of administratively approved power within this world.
Admin Staff stood silent and still within the dark depths of the Byw Forest. Thick, dark oak trees surrounding him on all sides. The forest floor teeming with colourful flowers that dazzled and amazed. There was more life surrounding him now than was common even in the Byw Forest. Such depths harboured isolation and tranquillity. Staff’s eyes focused dead ahead of him, as the trees themselves slowly, quietly, parted.
Standing before the Elven admin, a creature of wood and vine. It’s bark face featureless beyond the two eye sockets that revealed a pure white glow behind the shell of the construct. The humanoid figure looked like an Elf sized puppet calved directly from a single ancient tree stump. Vines controlled the movement of its limbs like muscles, and the bark itself was drenched in magical power. Circles and seals littered the creature’s dark oak body the very same way they littered Iirth. The bark mask ended in a sharp pointed chin, and two massive stag horns on top. A tree spirit in full view. This one in particular was also wearing a golden crown, which it’s two antlers had clearly grown around over the years. The crown itself was completely intact, other than the damaged engraving at the very centre front of the head piece. Two chunks of gold in the shape of two individual leaves were missing from the crown.
“A rare visit from the king of these lands.” The tree spirit’s voice echoed through Staff’s mind like the distant creaks of the dark wood. The tree spirit respectfully bowed its head for a brief moment before returning its piercing gaze to Staff’s eyes, “To what do we owe the pleasure, Staff the Wise?” It asked, “Or is it now Sam Thomson?” It continued, “The forest hears a new tale has begun for its true king.”
“What I have come to ask of you, I ask as Sam Thomson, not Staff the Wise.” Staff calmly clarified. The tree spirit nodded.
“We understand.” It lightly chuckled.
“The king of Elves intends to harm my blood.” Staff revealed, “Perhaps it is time the fair king is reminded who truly holds the crown of Byw.” He added as his eyes glanced up at the grand crown upon the tree spirit’s head.
“If you are asking such a thing of me as Sam the Wise, I shall require a favour in kind, true king.” The tree spirit spoke up, “An act done upon the request of a high mage is hardly as unquestionable as an order from Staff the Wise.”
“Name your price, king of the forest.” Staff quickly gave in.
“One of our kind has fallen.” The tree spirit revealed, “Their mind lost to the darkness of this world. I know not where it originated, but they bring destruction near our delicate ground of fertile root and wield power beyond our own.”
“Very well. The mage Sam Thomson vows, such a matter shall be dealt with.” Staff accepted. He raised his right hand and pressed it against his chest, “My word as my bond.”
“Then we shall see your request fulfilled, wise mage.” The tree spirit confirmed as its own long arm unnaturally snapped into place to mimic Staff’s gesture, “My word as my bond.”
“Thank you, king of the forest.” Staff thanked with a respectful bow. The wind suddenly tore through the thick forest. Leaves and vines wisped and flowed as the tree spirit before him slowly faded into the darkness of the forest beyond. The surrounding trees slowly returned to where they’d stood before, as if the entire thing had been a hallucinogenic dream.
Staff turned his attention to the surrounding magical presence as he calmly closed his eyes. Power of at least some consideration was concentrated all around him. The magical power of the forest itself was certainly concentrated this deep into the wild. His senses delicately sifted through the constant, calm still of the magical power. Suddenly, his eyes shot open as he sensed a change. A disturbance. An irregularity.
A bright flash of light, and suddenly Staff was somewhere new within the forest. Still surrounded by thick dark oak trees and darkness in all directions. His eyes narrowed as he scanned his surroundings. Tree spirits were hard to track down in such a place for obvious reasons, but a corrupted tree spirit should have been rather easy to find. Such mindless, chaotically driven creatures often wrought unguided destruction simply because of their nature, yet the forest lay as still as before. Tree spirits gained levels depending on their age. Yet they could live more than long enough to eventually reach the maximum level. Once they became corrupted, their power would spike even more, but once they hit the maximum level, it was no longer their power that increased with age… such mindless, lost creatures left unchecked for too long were able to slowly relearn how to think, how to plan, how to outthink their prey.
The magical power of the forest seemed as uniform as before at first glance, but Staff knew better. Something powerful was certainly here. Stalking him, waiting, watching. It’s power expertly hidden even to the senses of a mage as powerful as Merlin himself. Staff’s eyes slowly widened with realisation as he felt the power shift in response to him sensing it. It knew it had been found; it had the cunning to play cautious. The spirit he was hunting was old. Very old. So ancient its lifetime could perhaps be compared to the length of his own.
Few creatures could make a God hesitate in this world. Make their chest tighten with a gripping fear. There had been a reason the king of the forest himself required his aid of all people in this world. The magical power of the forest suddenly swelled, but not at his command. Vicious teeth made of the darkness of the forest itself began to close in on him. Staff’s magical power exploded outwards from his body in response, clashing directly with the dark, corrupted power surrounding him.
No spell had been cast; no move had been made. This was simply the raw clash of two terrifyingly powerful sources of magical power. Staff tightly gripped Iirth as it obediently flashed into his presence. Iirth’s various magical circles and clear magical crystal sparked to life.
“Such divine light.” A creaking whisper echoed through the magically saturated air. Staff’s eyes widened as he turned to spy the creature responsible for the voice. A voice he hadn’t expected. In all his years… he’d never come across a corrupted spirit able to articulate words, “So irritatingly bright.” The creature whispered, “I feel the calling… to rid this world of such a thing.”
“Direct Message; Zoie, Charlie… Patrick… Code Red.” Staff muttered as he felt the powerful jaws of unbridled magical power begin to clamp down on his very presence, “God level Anomaly detected…” He added as his eyes shone a deep, crimson red.