Tension

“From the beginning, the last days have been prophesied. Summer shall bend knee to Winter, and all fetters shall be torn asunder before her. The Life Mother sleeps, and in her slumber she dreams of Summer, and her dreams are reality. Hear me, for the Life Mother stirs, and with her awakening comes Winter.” -Excerpt from the Vædr Cycle

Silence hung around us like a cloak, interrupted only by our muffled footfalls as we walked. The stone walls were cold to the touch, and bore the damp and musty odor of a room long unused. My thoughts ran circles around my mind, still trying to arrange themselves into a formation that made sense.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Margaret asked, her tone somber. “Something has changed in us.”

“I’m surprised you picked up on it, the others haven’t,” I responded.

“One moment I felt normal, like I always had. Then it was like I had awakened from a long dream, and everything before that was nothing more than the ephemeral memories of another life,” she said. “I can tell you know something you did not share with the others.”

I nodded and gave her a wan smile, then let go of her hand. I had to tell her the truth, but a spike of anxiety shot through me at the thought. We walked down the narrow stone corridor—a hidden escape route designed to let me flee in case of invasion—in silence for several long moments. “Margaret, I have something I must tell you. It will be hard to accept it, but you must listen until the end.”

“As you command,” she said.

I took a deep breath, and then explained my previous life, OW, custom NPCs, everything. Her eyes grew distant as I spoke, but she raised no objections or questions. When I was done, silence settled between us once more.

“Is all of that the unvarnished truth?” She asked.

“It is.”

“So I am nothing but a creation of yours?” Her voice was monotone, but I could tell her mind was working behind the scenes.

“Until this afternoon, you were an algorithm performing the duties assigned to you. A very complex algorithm, so complex in fact that you were indistinguishable from a living entity in many ways, but a program nonetheless.”

“I see,” she said, and then smiled at me. “So be it. If I had to choose between being your creation, and being the product of a fickle unknown god, I would choose the former every time.”

I gawked at her, and then chuckled. “I’m glad it’s still you in there.” Margaret had always been the picture of logical process—she was capable of analyzing a situation, breaking down the known variables, and coming to the best possible conclusion, all in an instant. That was why I had named her the Commander, and why I had chosen to take her as my wife.

“I am curious, however—if I was not real before, does that mean our marriage was a game as well?” She asked. I caught a hint of pain behind her words, and I chose to soften the blow with a gentle lie. The truth was, despite my obsession with OW, I was capable of distinguishing reality from fiction. She was my wife in the game, but I knew she was not actually alive. Or, she had not been at the time.

“As I said, you were indistinguishable from a living being. When I took your hand, it was for no other reason than I enjoyed your presence.” I said. She smiled at me, and took my hand once more.

We reached the end of the corridor a minute later, and slipped outside and into the bustling streets of the Gran Fief. Sunlight warmed the paved streets, and the comforting scent of post-rain petrichor rushed up to meet me, along with the commiserate humidity.

There was a palpable tension in the air, a sense of fear and anxiety about what was to come, but despite that people hurried about their business, pushing carts and herding children, hawking wares and buying groceries. The area around the castle was always like that, a perpetual market day full of hectic life.

“Where are we going?” Margaret asked.

“I have business with a certain guild,” I said. “Plus, I must see whether I still retain the skill I had previously.”

She pulled me up short, and eyed me speculatively. “You aren’t planning to go into the Black Guild alone, are you?”

“Alone? Please. I have you and Demna.” I said with a wicked grin.

“Your Excellency, I must advise against this course of action as well,” Demna said from behind us. “If something were to happen to you now, the city might not survive.”

“She’s right. This is foolhardy, my husband.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “If I cannot handle this trivial task, I don’t deserve to be the king anyway.”

We continued walking, drawing the eyes of every passerby. Margaret was gorgeous, created to be exactly the type of woman I found most enchanting. She was of medium height, with a slender build and long black hair. Her red eyes were like dim embers, and her pale skin gave her an almost ethereal presence. Paired with the form-fitting black plate armor, and the large war-hammer at her hip, her entire look was incongruous and alluring.

We turned a corner, and left the market behind. There were no true slums in the Gran Fief, but if any neighborhood could be said to be poor, it was the one occupied by the Black Guild. The guild itself was a licensed institution that I permitted inside my borders because of the information they provided on other kingdoms, but I had long been displeased with the crime they brought in tow.

The tight streets and looming apartments blocked the sun, casting us into shadow. Residents of the area scurried about like rats, careful to avoid drawing our attention. When we arrived at the guild headquarters a few minutes later, I took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” I asked the other two.

“I still believe you should reconsider this pursuit,” Demna said. “If you intend to persist, however, I will make myself useful.”

“It’s no use trying to convince him when he’s like this,” Margaret said, letting out a sigh. “I almost feel sorry for them.”

“Alright, let’s get this started then,” I said, and pushed the door off the hinges with a firm shove. The move took almost no effort on my part, and a grin crept onto my face. “Looks like I’ve retained the strength I previously held, at least.”

I stepped inside first, and found myself in a dimly lit open room. Tables dotted the floor, each occupied by tough looking men and women, all gawking at us with open mouths. A bar was nestled in the back corner, and bottles of alcohol sat in messy rows on the shelves.

“Where’s Trevor?” I asked, projecting my voice so everyone could hear.

“Oy, who the hells are you?” One man said, and jumped up from where he was seated nearby. He brandished a wicked looking saber in my direction, sneering. “I’ll have your head for that.”

“That man is Trevor Smythe,” Demna whispered to me.

“Him?!” I asked, studying the man. “He’s the leader of the Black Guild?”

“Oy, don’t ignore me you bastard,” Trevor said, and stepped forward. From beside me, I felt the telltale heat that Margaret’s body gave off every time she drew upon mana.

“You will bow to your king, filthy rodent,” Margaret bellowed, reaching for her weapon.

“Wait Margaret, wait. Let me handle it,” I said, and looked down at her face. A growl rumbled deep in her chest, her teeth gritted in fury. “I’m happy you can get that angry on my part, but we’re here to test my ability.”

She huffed. “Fine. But save some for me too, once you’ve had your fill.”

“Aight I’m done with this shit. Just die, intruder,” Trevor screamed, and lunged at me. His sword form was only a step above amateurish, and I knocked the blade away with one gauntleted hand, then punched him in the face with the other. The bones in his face crumpled under the blow, and blood splattered across the floor. He crashed into a table, and fell to the ground, gasping for breath between agonized screams. Everyone in the room froze.

The strike was visceral in a way it never was in the game. I felt a slight nausea rise in my throat, but I pushed it down with a hard swallow. I did not have time for doubt—if this was real, that meant thousands of residents in my small city were depending on me to protect them.

“Oh wow,” I looked down at my fist, and gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve still got it, I guess. Alright, let’s try this.” I extended my hand, palm facing the far wall, and drew upon my mana. A purple-black aura leaked out of me, like tendrils of smoke, and then I channeled the power into a gout of purple flame. It leapt from my hand, flashed across the room, and set the bar aflame. Bottles of alcohol popped in the intense heat, and the metal rivets that held the shelves aloft melted away, sending them crashing to the floor.

“Control yourself, husband,” Margaret said, putting a gentle hand on my outstretched arm.

“Oops, sorry,” I said sheepishly. The Black Guild members were stunned into silence. “I am Theodor Gran, king of these lands. This is a warning, and a chance. Leave this city tonight, and you will survive. Choose to oppose me, and I will send you to the gallows.”

“You bastard.” Trevor’s shaky voice called out to me from where he lay sprawled on the ground. “You dragged this whole city somewhere, and you just expect us to go along with it?”

There was truth in his words. I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to decide whether he was worth a response, but before I could speak Margaret stepped forward.

“You will show deference to your king, or I will have your head for treason. You flail about in the dark like a child holding a candle, unaware how close you’ve come to the precipice.” She said, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles were white.

“I know you have been fomenting unrest since we’ve found ourselves in these strange lands. The city is already on edge, I won’t have you making it worse,” I said, following up her words. “I will give you until tomorrow morning to put Gran behind you.”

“You can rot in hell,” Trevor said, and laughed. The other Black Guild members looked between him and us nervously, and backed away.

“Care to do the honors?” I asked Margaret.

“Gladly,” she said, pulling the war-hammer from its holster. The blunt end of the hammer was shaped like a wolf head, and the spiked end was cast like a wolf tail. I had created it specifically for Margaret because despite her intelligence, she was not an adept spell caster and struggled to wield a sword, but possessed immense physical strength. She pointed to the sword Trevor dropped. “Pick up your weapon, let us settle this with a duel.”

Trevor staggered to his feet, and brandished the sword. In a flash, Margaret was on him, her weapon zipping through the intervening space like a missile.

“Glad she hasn’t changed,” I said.

“She is as honorable as the day you made her,” Demna said. “Truly a weakness. She should not give the enemy a chance to fight back.”

“So you heard that conversation, then.”

“I did indeed.”

“Thoughts?” I asked, reluctant to hear her answer but resolved to do so anyway.

“I serve at your pleasure. That you created me to do so makes no difference.”

I put my hand on her head, and ruffled her hair. “Glad to hear it.”

“It seems she has won,” Demna reported. Though her voice gave no sign of emotion, her face was a faint shade of pink.

“Mission accomplished then,” I said.

“I believe Emile will be distraught that he was not granted the opportunity to eliminate them himself,” she said.

“There are still plenty of guild members left,” I responded. “We just cut off the head.”

Margaret stood over Trevor’s body, her armor covered in viscera. She returned her weapon to her hip, and then bowed to me. “It is as you commanded, my husband.”

“Good job. Clean yourself up, and we will return to the castle.”

Margaret nodded, and then released a burst of mana. Where my aura was like purple smoke, her’s was like a ruddy furnace fire, charring everything in her immediate vicinity, and evaporating the blood from her body in a burst of sickly sweet steam. She had trouble casting actual spells—she claimed she had no talent for it. Despite that, she possessed a mana pool second only to my own, and had found unique ways to make use of it.

“As for the rest of you, I will give you a chance. Trevor is gone, and you are free men and women. You have three choices. Swear fealty to me tomorrow morning, leave tonight, or—“ I stopped talking, and pointed at Trevor’s bloodied corpse. “End up like him.”

I fought once more to suppress my rising nausea, and turned without waiting for an answer, leaving the Black Guild behind.