Liar King (Tower of Babel Book 2) Page 8

  He almost felt sorry for the poor, dumb copies.

  "Silver next!" He shouted, seeking to press what advantage they had. It wouldn't be long before Celia returned from her exile through time, but he'd feel a lot safer if they could take out at least one more of the enemy damage dealers before that happened. "I've got Michael."

  That was the other major problem with the strategy. Killing an equal level mob from half health in a single strike generated a lot of aggro, which wasn't exactly ideal right after taking enough damage to activate the skill in the first place. Then again, that was what tanks were for

  Cayden rushed forward, utilizing his Cover ability to put himself between Michael and the remaining enemies moments before the first wave of their assault struck. Magic of all forms assaulted him, a hail of metal darts and that same runic fire from his own copy, paired neatly with all manner of elemental magics from Silver's fingertips. The latter came slower and slower as the seconds ticked by, however, as Shifty's daggers and the real Silver's magics began to find purchase in the slender doll. Eventually, their combined assault began to overwhelm the duplicate Celia's healing prowess, and the enemy copy of their cocky magi fell to a flurry of attacks.

  It was their fight. Cayden smiled in relief. Four to three, no, five to three, he corrected himself as Celia's status bar reappeared on the corner of his display, the copies didn't stand a chance. Still, no reason to be cocky, however, particularly with the walking nuke that was Michael still on the enemy side of the field.

  "Healer next!" Cayden ordered, moving forward to engage the looming form of the enemy juggernaut, crying out a taunt to keep his attention before adding. "Nice of you to join us, Celia."

  "So that is what that feels like." She laughed nervously, briefly studying her own hands as if uncertain if what she was seeing was real.

  "Celia." Silver demanded, snapping her fingers. "A little focus?"

  "Easy for you to say." Celia pouted before starting into a healing incantation.

  The cleanup that followed was easy compared to the nail-biting terror that had led up to it. Outnumbered, and down the majority of their damage dealers, the enemy force simply couldn't outpace them. Their Celia was brought down by a combined barrage of attacks, and mercifully their Cayden at last felt shortly after that, though not before one more taunt uncomfortably manipulated Cayden's psyche. With Michael the last of their group, they defaulted to a mix of Cayden's two ideal strategies, the five of them pouring damage onto him until his ability activated, followed by kiting him to death while Cayden played keep away with his taunts.

  In all the fight must have been measured in minutes, but to Cayden at least it felt like hours, perhaps days. His hands were lead weights at the end of his arms, barely mobile. His fingers ached from gripping the hilt of his sword, and he wondered, briefly, if he'd ever get the feeling of vibration out of his left arm. He'd had more dangerous fights, but never something so long, nor with such uncertainty from the very outset.

  The faces of his allies all told the same tale, all but Silver. The physical exhaustion was there, but not the mental. Her eyes were clear and thoughtful, introspective as if she were plotting the next ten moves in a chess match, rather than standing in the aftermath of a life or death struggle. It made sense, he supposed, that a woman with her experience would not have the same reaction, yet it was unnerving all the same. Would he have eyes like that one day? And if he did, would that be a good thing? Or a bad thing?

  "We should grab their loot," Shifty said at last.

  "Ever the mercenary." Celia giggled. When he stiffened at that comment, her hands immediately came up, covering her face as the circumstances of the evening came back to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

  "It's fine. I think we're all pretty damn exhausted." Shifty replied with his most soothing tone. "But the sooner we get on with this the sooner we can sleep and figure out our next step. So grab your doppelganger."

  The group nodded their agreement, and each went in search of their fallen doppelganger, collecting the small glowing crystal from amidst the dissipating ash. There was the usual of course, currency, crafting components and vendor trash, but two items immediately stood out:

  Mage Blade +3

  A Mage Blade of the Elzmere style. It imparts powerful magical benefits to the initiated.

  One-Hand Damage: 65-85

  One-Hand Damage (Mage): 85-125

  Required Level: 7

  Required Strength: 7

  Required Dexterity: 13

  Durability: 25

  Energy + 7

  Empower (1) Once/Day

  Special: This weapon has increased damage for anyone with at least five levels in a spellcasting class.

  Deed to Bastion

  Ownership and acceptance of this item entitles and entrusts command over the Walled City of Bastion and all lands and territories within ten miles in all directions.

  The first was a straight upgrade over his existing sword. He had already tempered his blade twice since obtaining it, increasing the original Mage Blade he'd gotten from Rap Rat to a +2 variety, so it made sense thematically that they'd give him a +3 as a reward. His allies reported similar findings, though each of them had gotten a second piece of upgraded gear, rather than a deed of their own

  Cayden snapped his fingers to bring up his AR menu, and dug down into his inventory, locating the Deed in an open space of his pack, and summoned it to hand.

  It was a positively ancient looking scroll, the paper yellowed and so brittle that the very idea of trying to open it filled him with dread. Despite that fear, however, the document seemed to actively resist damage as he opened it, gaining unnatural flexibility the moment the vellum would have otherwise been pushed to its limits.

  A series of notifications barraged Cayden's display as the first glowing words of the document came into sight. Chime after chime, dinged in his ear as his log was flooded with the phrase: New Rune Learned.

  The document was written in the Great Emperor's Runes, he saw, but each shone with eldritch power the very nature of the document imparting the meaning of the words he was seeing, which in turn added them to his lexicon. Was this another way he could have stumbled onto his unique class? Or just an interesting interaction of the two? Either way, any pouting over sup-par loot drops was long gone as the document added well over a hundred new words to his vocabulary, bringing him to over eleven-hundred words known. Halfway to his next major boost.

  Ironically, even translated the document was almost illegible. His enthusiasm for the addition to his lexicon flagged somewhat as he realized that words like heretofore and forthwith were among those he'd just discovered. The legalese was strong with this one.

  The one thing that was easy to understand were the two options that revealed themselves at the bottom of the unrolled page. I accept, and I decline. It wasn't enough to merely possess the document; he had to agree to its terms. It's very complicated, magically binding terms. Wonderful.

  "Any of you know how to speak lawyer?" Cayden asked, after giving the document another fruitless pass with his eyes.

  "I took law 10 in high school?" Celia chirped.

  Silver and Shifty each shook their heads but Michael was advancing, his arm outstretched for the scroll. He took it when offered, and scanned it for barely an instant before handing it back. "Pre-Law, before I ended up here, but I'm not going to be much use to you."

  "Why not?"

  "Paper looks blank to me," Michael explained.

  "Ah. Damn." Cayden grumbled. Because of course, Babel couldn't ever just make something easy.

  Then again, it wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway. What was he going to do, not accept ownership of the castle and surrounding lands? Like that'd help.

  He touched the I Accept option.

  The braziers and torches throughout the room flared to life at that touch, and behind them, he could hear the sound of sound of sparks and fire as light flooded the entrance hall from whence they'd come. The room
around them shifted subtly as well, the moss between stones retreating, the door that they'd smashed in their entrance knitting itself back together. The keep was coming alive under their very feet, even the cool night air of the place replaced by a toasty, fireside sensation.

  "Home sweet home." Cayden murmured.

  Chapter Seven

  “You're up early.” Silver remarked with a sly grin as Cayden arrived.

  “You're one to talk.” He shot back. The young woman was as pretty and made up as ever, but there was no covering the heavy bags under her eyes. “Couldn't sleep either, huh?”

  She shook her head. “Not in the slightest.”

  “Because you're worried about all of us dying? Or because you want to see how this all works?”

  “Yes?”

  Cayden snorted with laughter. “Hey, at least you're honest.”

  Crisp footsteps were fast approaching from behind Cayden; the young man was forced to step aside to admit Valserys, Roberta and, to his surprise, Michael. The latter appeared to be just barely awake, his baby blue eyes squinting, even in the dim light of the study.

  "Field Marshall," Valserys said sharply before he snapped to attention. Long seconds passed before Cayden finally realized what the pink-haired soldier was waiting for and gestured for him to relax.

  “Good morning Valserys, Roberta. I appreciate you being so prompt." He wasn't sure on that last point, having left his AR glasses back in his room in his fumbling haste to get here on time. But their arrival with Michael certainly suggested it. "Is everything ready?"

  “As requested.” This time it was Roberta, the diminutive grey-haired woman smiling in satisfaction of her own pronouncement as she gestured to a nearby table. “Better, in fact, with the recovery of this from the tower store room.”

  Cayden turned his attention to the oaken legged table that dominated the center of the room, his brows knitting together in confusion as he studied it. The top of its surface was dominated by a scale model of what appeared to be the majority of the second floor. Mountains capped with white snow rose from its surface, while small puddles filled in for lakes and other large bodies of water. Islo, Sunè, and Bastion were all represented, along with a small representation that he could only assume stood in for the location of the Tomb of the Liar King.

  "A gorgeous model," Cayden admitted at last. "Though I'm not sure it is better. The more tactile view of the landscape is nice, but the screen I'd requested would be more useful for organizing our forces.”

  Roberta shook her head. If she was annoyed, she made no sign of it. Instead, she drew closer, reaching out a slim-fingered hand to take hold of his and press it against the side of the table. "I assure you, Field Marshall, it is far superior. But first, I surrender ownership to Cayden."

  With that touch, the model rippled and began to collapse. Mountains and cities faded back into a dull grey surface in a matter of seconds, then coalesced back into a new image just as quickly.

  This time the model was not of the floor, but of Bastion itself. As before, the entire top of the table was taken up by the replica, though this time the scale was different. Cayden could now see individual soldiers walking the battlements, with others patrolling the streets or manning the front gate.

  The city itself was a wonder of detail as if the world's best miniature model had spent a lifetime hunched over a magnifying glass to apply every minute detail imaginable. Due to its scale it was still imperfect, but it was without a doubt as close as one could get given the limitations.

  "Amazing," Michael said softly from the sidelines.

  “To put it mildly.” Silver said in quiet admiration.

  Cayden's head turned in her direction, surprised. “This isn't something your guild has?”

  Silver paused for a moment, considering whether or not to reply before shaking her head. “No. The guildhall has something similar, but nothing quite this detailed.”

  “They wouldn't.” Roberta said with perhaps a little too much glee. “This is known as a War Frame. One of only ninety-nine in existence, most of which are reputed to be on the upper fifty floors.”

  “I'll sell it to you guys if we get out of th-”

  "No, you will not!" Roberta said with a stomp of her foot. "The table is bound to Bastion and will no-"

  "It was a joke, Roberta," Cayden said dryly.

  “I-oh. My mistake Field Marshall.”

  “Just Cayden, please. It feels weird having you call me that.” Cayden smiled, but the sour expression on the older woman's face didn't budge. “So, this War Frame, tell me more about it.”

  That seemed to put some life back into her. “The War Frames are relics of the Great Emperor, powerful artifacts placed in places of future need."

  “Event items then.” Silver said. “I don't suppose you know where we can find the others, then?” Roberta shook her head, and Cayden shot the Magi a look that returned with equal ferocity. “What? I wouldn't be a good gamer if I didn't ask?”

  "Continue Roberta," Cayden said, rolling his eyes. Silver wasn't wrong, but that didn't stop it from annoying him.

  "The frames themselves are items of immense significance." Roberta gestured to one of the soldiers pacing the outer walls. Eventually, Cayden took her meaning and reached out to touch the soldier. It felt both smoother and cooler than he'd expected, like touching a shaded pebble on a hot summer day.

  As he touched it, a small spray of particles erupted from the edges of the table, floating upwards into the air before coalescing into a dark grey pane, filled with text:

  Aleph

  Level 10 (Elan Infantry)

  HP: 100/100

  MP: 0/0

  TP: 100/100

  Move: 130

  Attack: 10

  Defence: 10

  Special: None

  Resistances: None

  Weaknesses: None

  “What am I looking at?” Cayden asked as the window floated above him. Before either of his advisors could speak, he clarified. “I know these must be his stats, but this isn't a normal interface. If it is, these can't be correct.”

  "The HP is too low," Michael added, stating the obvious.

  “And mobs don't have a movement stat.” This from Silver. She was studying the floating screen with the same intensity as Cayden, the two talking over one another as the same realization hit them. “Mass Combat Rules?”

  “I'm sorry, Field M- Cayden.” Roberta said. “I'm not familiar with the term. Valserys?” The stern man replied with a simple shake of his head. “It is my understanding that the War Frame produces a sort of... summary of military strength, allowing for informed tactical decisions to be made by even the most novice of military commanders.”

  “So mass combat rules.” Cayden nodded, running a weary hand through his hair as he sought to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.“Neither of you have any idea how this works, do you?”

  “...Not directly, Field Marshall.” Valserys admitted. “I've been assigned to assist you with strategic and tactical matters but this, this I am not familiar with.”

  “Wonderful. So we're going to be learning by trial and error.” Cayden groaned.

  “Better than having some Navi shouting in your ear, Hey Look! Isn't it?” Silver smirked.

  He pondered that for a moment, then grudgingly agreed. “A tutorial would still be nice.”

  “How are we seeing this?” Michael asked, seemingly ignoring the other two for his own thoughts. “The updates, I mean. Is it real time, if so, is it some sort of divination, or?”

  "It is a form of natural Mind magic, as I understand it," Roberta explained. "When I transferred ownership of the frame to you, it linked to the mind of every being under your command. It registers their senses, and reproduces them here."

  “So, if they see an enemy...”

  “Then the enemy would appear on the frame as well.” She nodded. “And depending on the qualities of the unit involved, as well as prevailing conditions, the frame can provide you with vari
ed information about the opponent.”

  “A real-life board game within a real-life video game," Michael remarked with equal parts wonder and horror.

  “Certainly looks that way.” Cayden nodded. Then he turned his attention to Valserys. “Order a hundred of the men to the courtyard. And see if we have any sort of sparring or training weapons that we can give them. I'd rather we not have to risk our troops to do some tes... why are you looking at me like that?”

  Valserys was indeed looking at him like that. It was an expression that was hard to describe, not quite confusion, but something beyond that. Like he was asking him to do the dumbest thing on earth and, being the professional he was, Valserys was trying to find a polite way to verbally slap some sense into him. “Field Marshall-”

  “Cayden.” He cut in.

  The man bristled at that. “No, Field Marshall. You are my superior officer, and when dealing with formal business,I would prefer to address you as such.” Rebuking his superior didn't come easy to the other man, and it took him a moment before he could finish the thought that he has started. “You do not need to give me instructions on how to direct the troops. The frame allows you to make your will known directly.”

  Cayden turned his attention back to the table, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. Natural Mind magic, she had said. It wasn't enough that the frame allowed him to essentially peek on the vision of every soldier under his command, but he could move them directly?

  Tentatively, he reached out and touched the same soldier he had begun with. The figure didn't move as he poked and prodded it, nor was he capable of lifting it from the table itself. Which made sense, this was a projection, not some godlike interface where a Black and White style divine hand was descending from above to move the units he'd selected.

  “Try touching him and touching somewhere else?” Silver suggested. It was better than any idea Cayden had in mind, but ultimately no more successful.