Liar King (Tower of Babel Book 2) Read online

  “So we're cut off?” Shifty asked with immediate concern.

  “Looks that way.” Cayden frowned. “Maybe people can leave the floor, either through the teleport crystal or just physically walking?”

  "How about we worry about that once we figure out what the hell just happened," Celia said.

  “Easy for you to say, some of us have lives outside of this damn-”

  “-Shifty. It will be fine, okay.” Cayden said, reaching out to put a hand on the other man's shoulder. “It's probably temporary and even if it isn't, your kids will fine until it gets sorted out.”

  The reassuring words did little to ease the stress evident on the older man's face. Cayden had yet to meet Shifty's children, but from what he'd seen of them the two precocious youngsters were as mischievous as their father. They lived outside of the game with their grandmother, half a world away in Italy, but it was impossible to miss how close they were to their father's heart. Shifty wasn't like Celia or Silver. He'd taken a job with Vitalita to pay his bills, and he'd stuck with Cayden for a similar reason, selling the trade goods and crafting components he came across to support his children back home. To be cut off from them entirely was a nightmare.

  “So what do we think happened?” Silver asked. Whatever argument they'd been in the midst of was forgotten. The once bleary-eyed girl was sober and attentive.

  Silence reigned in response to her question as their little group wracked their brains over the issue. Around them a handful of other players appeared to be pondering similar questions, whispering back and forth with one another. When the very rules of Babel seemed to have been broken, knowing who you could trust was at a sudden premium.

  “What level was Symbal?” Cayden asked, the small number of players in the once bustling tavern having sparked an epiphany of sorts.

  “Uh...” Sarah replied, thinking on it for a moment. “Two. Maybe three, I think?”

  Cayden nodded. It made sense with his theory, but he'd need more than a single anecdote to be sure. He hefted his shield arm, then bashed the rounded bottom edge of it against the table as hard as he could, striking it three times until he had the attention of everyone in the room. “Show of hands. Who here is lower than level twenty?”

  A few hands raised in response to his question, though many of them faltered as their owners realized that their companions were staring warily at Cayden. It was a foolish way to phrase the question, he realized. People here were paranoid enough without him giving them a reason to think he'd been sizing them up.

  “Fine.” He shouted. “Did anyone higher than level twenty disappear?”

  This time the response was a little better. The various players looked at one another to be sure, exchanged muted words, then eventually a few groups gave some indication in the positive.

  “Level fifteen to twenty?” He asked again, this time the answer came back negative. “Level Ten to fifteen?” Again, nothing. “Level Five to ten?”

  There it was. Hands started to rise throughoutall of the varied groups of players. He had to ask a few more questions, but within half a minute they all knew at least one vital aspect of what had happened. Players lower than tenth-level or higher than twentieth had all been teleported off the floor. Players six or higher had ended up on the third floor; anyone lower had ended up on the first.

  "A floor event?" Cayden asked, at last, his voice lowered to keep this particular musing to himself and his cohorts.

  “Looks that way.” Silver frowned.

  "Okay, pretend I don't know what you're talking about," Shifty said, clearly annoyed. "Because I don't know what you're talking about."

  “A floor event is,” Cayden shrugged, “kinda what it sounds like.” As Shifty's face tightened into an angry grimace, he quickly expanded his answer, "There have been two so far, Floor thirty-three and Floor forty-two. Players activate a trigger that begins the event. Once they do, the floor is locked down, and the players have to complete whatever challenge they are faced with in order to reconnect with the outside world."

  "So we're trapped here," Shifty said. "For how long?"

  This time it was Silver's turn to break the bad news. “No way to tell until we get more information. The thirty-three event lasted a little over a day and a half. The forty-two...”

  “How long?”

  Cayden winced. “A little over a month and a half.”

  Shifty swore under his breath.

  “Shouldn't we have gotten some system notification then?” Celia asked.

  Silver shook her head. “Events aren't like that. They're a little more... theatrical.”

  As if on cue, the sound of a bell ringing echoed into the Inn of the Dizzy sheep from the street outside. A voice accompanied every few chimes of the bell, a man shouting in his most authoritative tones. "The mighty Duke Elazio de Medeces, Ruler of Islo and beloved of the Great Emperor, commands the immediate presence of all bloodline descendants at the Ducal palace within the hour.”

  The bell chimed again, the same voice shouting the words louder than before as he drew closer. Booted footsteps of the town guard accompanied him, and, in the distance, the players could just barely hear the bells and voices of similar criers going about their business throughout the city.

  Several of the other small pockets of players seemed to have come to the same realization as Cayden and company, if only judging by the paleness of their faces. A floor event was nothing to scoff at. Fatalities for the floor forty-two event had been exceptionally high, and in this case, it was hard to know just what to expect. There had never been a floor event on a floor anywhere near this low. Let alone one that required the removal of all low-level players from the floor.

  "Might as well get going," Cayden called out, at last, sounding more confident than he felt. "The sooner we get this event dealt with the better. Right?"

  A small murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled players, accompanied by a few sharp glares from players who didn't like the suggestion that they were following someone else's lead. It didn't matter to Cayden because he meant what he said. If this were anything like previous events, it wouldn't start in earnest until a critical mass of players had assembled as requested.

  Slowly but surely, the various throngs of players began to shuffle towards the inn doors. Many of them took one final swig of ale or shot of hard liquor as they left their tables. Cayden couldn't blame them, if anything, this was going to be a hell of a night to try and deal with sober.

  ***

  The Ducal Palace was among the most opulent structures in all of Islo, second only to the Temple of the Great Emperor. It was a place Cayden had, until recently, only seen from afar. There were a large number of quests that took players there, of course, but his routing and the somewhat unique circumstances of his early days in Babel had conspired never to give him a reason to visit.

  In some ways he was glad. He could see relative boredom on the faces of many of his fellow players as they made their way down carpeted hallways adorned with marble busts, framed portraits and all manner of esoteric trinkets the Duke's ancestors had collected over the years. Some of them had probably walked this hallway half a dozen times or more delivering fetch quests to and fro, so it was little wonder they had lost all sense of awe. Cayden at least, got to enjoy a certain feeling of gravitas as he joined over half a hundred of his fellow players on their walk to the Duke's audience chamber.

  The room itself was massive, easily able to accommodate them despite their numbers. Tables and chairs had been set out, but many players chose to stand or to linger along the edges of the room. Nearly everyone had retained their armor, though many, like Cayden, had stowed their weapons for the time being.

  With their equipment on display, it was easy for Cayden to narrow down some facts about the players around him. They type of armor by itself was enough to narrow down the class options for a given player, and even its overall quality could suggest a lot.

  Not for the first time, Cayden was thankful that S
ilver didn't keep to the sort of ostentatious displays of power that some high-level players enjoyed. There were no foot long shoulder pads on her armor or spinning orbs of arcane might that would tell people just how powerful she was. Instead, she wore the same armor she had when he'd first met her, a full body black suit of leather and more unique fabrics covered her from neck to toe, it's outline trimmed in the same red as the heavy red cloak that typically concealed everything beneath.

  The Duke's empty throne awaited his arrival upon the upraised dais at the front of the room. His eminence had left them waiting for the better part of a half hour, more than enough time for Cayden to get a good read on a sizable amount of his fellow players.

  Upon their arrival at the palace, the players had divided into roughly four separate types. First were the solo or group players like Cayden and his fellows. Players who might have a couple of friends or at best a full party. Second were the guildies, roughly twenty in total over two distinct guilds; they had arrived in two clumps of players that had been hard to miss. Then there were the corporate players, farmers, caravan guards and the like; they were a ragtag bunch equipped in anything from best in slot gear for their level to barely above beginner equipment depending on their role.

  And finally, and most worrisome, there were the Toy Soldiers.

  It had taken most world governments less than a few weeks to realize the immediate national security implications posed by Babel. Some of those concerns were rather blatant, a person with the ability to wish for whatever they wanted could wish for world domination as readily as he could wish for world peace, but even the subtle ones were of grave concern. A nation that had to rely on a third party for Albieth steel could find themselves with a critical shortage of metal for new airframes, or tank armor. Relying on Vitalita for medical components could backfire in the event of an armed conflict and so on.

  The result was the Toy Soldiers, a somewhat derogatory term coined as a catch-all for state-sponsored players. For some, like the soldiers on the far end of the room, it was accurate, young men and women hired as soldiers but tasked with fighting a very different sort of battle. But there were also diplomatic corps, roguish special forces, and non-combatants that still fell under the same term. If a government sent you to Babel, you were a Toy Soldier.

  Technically there were two separate groups, a party of five Americans and a much larger group of Israelis, but it was only the second that worried him. The Israeli contingent numbered nearly a full third of all players in the audience chamber, and unlike some of the more lax behavior he had seen among their ilk, these particular soldiers still held their full military discipline. They stood at ease in five ranks, their commander walking up and down the lines of them, stopping here and there to speak to a soldier before carrying on.

  Cayden didn't know what to make of her. She was pushing thirty, and if she had ever been a pretty woman that time had long since passed. Her black hair was shaven down to little more than a stubble that peeked out from beneath the beret she wore. Her face was studded with acne, her skin an angry red despite her calm demeanor. What struck him most was the air about her, a confident presence and sense of authority that was hard to quantify as her squat, dominant form traced its way back and forth through the line of her troops, chainmail clanking with each step.

  If this was like the other two Floor Events, everyone in this room was going to have to work together. That was going to be fun, in the Dwarf Fortress sense of the word, anyways.

  Cayden's thoughts were interrupted as a loud proclamation broke through the dim hum of conversation. “Ladies and Gentlemen. His Royal Eminence, Elazio de Medeces.”

  All eyes turned forward with the announcement, just as the Duke's bodyguards came into view. They were imposing figures, men of muscle and sinew clad in gleaming mail who walked with military precision, flanking the four corners of their ward. The man they guarded, or rather, the boy, was rather less intimidating.

  It was hard to be intimidating when you were twelve.

  A titter of laughter ran through the room, including a not-quite suppressed giggle from Celia. Even Cayden, who knew what to expect, had a hard time not cracking a smile at the sight of the dark-haired, grey-skinned tween surrounded by his enormous bodyguards. It just looked silly, a child trying his best to look regal and important while not yet topping five feet.

  If the crowd's reaction bothered the young duke, the boy didn't let it show. Elazio had a stern poker face as he crossed the room, ascended the dais and settled down onto his throne, his guards taking up positions at the foot of the stairs and on either side of him. The previous buzz of conversation was muted as the young aristocrat surveyed the assembled players with that same stern expression, waiting until nearly every word had died off on their lips before starting with his own.

  "We thank you all for responding so quickly and promptly to our summons, particularly considering the late hour." The child began with the best impression of a regal tone his high-pitched voice could manage. "Reports have trickled in suggesting that most of you already realize that something is amiss, so in the interest of time, we will be dispensing with the normal protocol and formality of such an event, and instead getting to the heart of the matter immediately."

  “Six hours ago, the court's high seer, Agamarang, suffered a powerful vision that left him blind and on the verge of death. Before his passing, he was able to relate enough of the visions cryptic details to warn us of what was to come." The Duke's expression grew as stern as the boy could manage, his eyes narrowed as he glared at the assembled players. "One among your kind has disturbed the Wardens of the Liar King."

  The name sent a ripple throughout the crowd, but it was mainly one of confusion. Few players recognized the name, among Cayden's band only Silver and himself showed any immediate recognition. That wasn't a surprise; Babel had backstory every bit as expansive as the lore and history of reality, so only someone who had played for ages, or someone who was an obsessive nerd would know much about the relatively obscure name.

  For those who did know, however, it was troubling. The Liar King was one of the seven kings who had defied the Great Emperor in his ascension to power over all of Babel. The stories claimed that he was a massive trickster, a manipulator without equal who spun plots within plots. He was far weaker than the Great Emperor in personal, magical and military might, but among the most dangerous of all of his foes solely because of his intellect. The armies of the Emperor marched on his castle, only to find it empty and their fields and dominions plundered in their absence or met him in combat just to see the battlefield arrayed with magical traps. Whatever the situation, the Liar King somehow twisted it to his advantage.

  Legends told that the Great Emperor slew the Liar King on no less than a dozen occasions. Twice he was left for dead on the field of battle. Once he was thrown from a cliff-face, while his supposed final death was a brutal public execution. After the last, the Great Emperor had the body split and dismembered, its pieces taken throughout the tower and concealed in tombs and prisons beneath the earth so that any attempt to revive the Liar King would prove an impossible task.

  It had failed, of course. The same legends said that the Liar King had reappeared a century later, albeit less than he once was, content to work from the shadows instead of opposing the Great Emperor directly.

  At the time he'd read it, Cayden thought the whole thing sounded like a cool premise for a quest chain. Now, he was slightly more dubious.

  “We do not know what was done to disturb them, whether something was taken or some sacrilege was laid. What we do know, is that even as we speak, the Wardens stir.” The royal continued. “If any of you know the ones responsible, this is perhaps our only chance to easily rectify the mistake.”

  The words hung in the still air of the audience chamber, with the soft shuffling of feet and whispers of conversation as their only reply. The young man let them linger there longer than necessary as if somehow hoping that those responsible would be pressur
ed into honesty by the delay before at last, he spoke. "Pity. Our cousin is holding a similar meeting in Sunè, so with luck, the responsible party will be located there, but we suspect not. Accordingly, we shall begin preparations sooner, rather than later."

  The assembled players exchanged looks with one another, but the Duke pressed on. "In his... wisdom, the Great Emperor crafted an army to serve as the eternal guardians of the Liar King. These Wardens were to keep him forever imprisoned, but I fear that they now do us more harm than good."

  “None of the scouts or envoys we have sent to investigate the tomb have returned.” The Duke said, a frown showing on his face for the first time. “The Great Emperor charged our family with assisting the Wardens during times of trouble, but between our losses and Agamarang's vision, we fear that they are not what they once were. That they do not recognize friend from foe.”

  "You ever get the feeling that the Great Emperor isn't exactly good at long-term planning?" Sarah quipped.

  “We suspect you are all aware that the floor had been locked. This was a precaution against a resurgence of the Liar King. It was intended to keep him trapped here so that his Wardens could deal with him should he escape. The floor will remain locked until we can return the Wardens to their rest. Which is why we've summoned you all here.”

  A number of replies, some far from polite swelled out of the crowd. They threatened to shout down whatever the young man had to say before his guards began to pound the stone floor with the butts of their pole-arms, demanding silence and attention as only armed men could do.

  “The danger posed by the Wardens is immense and will grow as they awaken fully. By ourselves, I believe the Elan will fall. By yourselves, the Bloodlines, the Humans, will fall.” The boy stood, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Only together will we have the capability to endure and find a solution for what is to come.”