Grand Game 430: A Choice of Punishments (Patreon)

Predictably, my words did not please the possessed. But I pressed on, ignoring the crowd’s dangerous mood. “You are angry,” I said. “You are resentful. It does not matter. The possessed are finished.”

The crowd swelled in outrage, and this time, not even the threat of the lichs behind me was enough to quell them. Hands were set to weapons, and challenges were issued.

Folding my arms, I watched and waited.

“Silence!” Farren snapped, his voice magically enhanced to reverberate through the court. “You will hear out the scion!”

The shouts subsided, and the mutters died, but I was not fooled—matters stood on a knife’s edge. I had riled the crowd deliberately. If our plan was going to work, the possessed had to understand I would not back down and that the lichs wouldn’t either. There was nowhere for them to run, no one to appeal to, and nowhere to go.

“This much is absolute,” I continued. “Farren and Adriel will not rehome any spirit in another’s body after today. It does not matter if you overcome me. And lest you think of pursuing Castor’s example, know too that that path is doomed to failure. New Haven is no longer helpless against you. Their soldiers have been taught how to destroy your bodies.”

Pausing there, I ran my gaze slowly over the crowd and was met by muttered curses, scowls, and glares. I smiled coldly back.

“The possessed are finished,” I repeated, driving home the point. “Whether by a slow death, fighting every step of the way, or otherwise—it is inevitable. You will pay for your crimes.”

I let my voice drop, so they had to lean in to hear my next words. “But you will have a choice about how you do so.”

I gestured Ceruvax forward, and he placed the three artifacts on the dais. “Your first option is to face me in combat in the Ritual Circle. Win, and you will go free. You will be allowed to roam the sector until the end of your days. You will not, however, ever leave Draven’s Reach. Lose, and the Skull of Souls will gather your fallen spirit to serve a new scion of your House.”

“Your second option,” I went on, not allowing them any questions, “is to become a werewolf. If you go down this path and complete the transformation, you will submit to Ceruvax. He will be your Pack’s alpha. Under his leadership, you will serve as New Haven’s protectors for however long the city council decides you must.”

This had been another matter of considerable debate. Ceruvax had wanted to accompany me when I left Draven’s Reach, but for multiple reasons, that was not practical. For one, he lacked deception and wouldn’t be able to hide his identity from other players, and while my new Power Mark made disguising myself more difficult, I could still manage it as long as I stayed away from any Powers.

Then, too, governing House Wolf was the entire reason I’d brought Ceruvax to Draven’s Reach in the first place, and he couldn’t do that if he were following me around the Game.

No, the best place for him was in the dungeon, training our allies—Nyra included—protecting New Haven and feeding Draven the energy he needed to stay alert and awake. The last was nearly as important as the first two, and eventually, the old wolf had reluctantly conceded.

“Your third option,” I continued, “is to undergo full astral separation using another artifact in my allies’ keeping. You will be rehomed into a flesh golem thereafter and conscripted into New Haven’s army to serve as long as the marshal decrees.

I paused, but not overly long. There was one more message I needed to impart before I left them to consider their choices.

“There is a fourth option, of course—to fight. But I promise you that if you try that, your bones will be crushed, and your spirits left to wander the Game for all eternity.”

I scanned the faces in the crowd again, letting my words sink in. The possessed were looking more subdued now. Good. “Now, are there any questions?”

A possessed stepped forward immediately. “Yes,” he sneered.

I didn’t recognize the face, but the voice was unmistakable. “Ah, Avery. Why am I not surprised? What do you wish to know?”

“What makes you think any of us would be willing to face a brute like you in the ritual circle alone? No one is that daft! And that being the case, all your fancy talk about choice is nothing more than hot air!”

Spreading his arms, Avery swiveled around to address his fellows. “Choice!” he spat. “What choice is this wolfing giving us, really? Choosing how to subject ourselves to a lifetime of slavery under proles—proles, damn it!—is no choice! And I shouldn’t need to remind any of you that the bastards will be out for revenge.”

“Who said anything about facing me alone?” I asked mildly before Avery could resume his rant.

The possessed spun to face me. “What?”

“The ritual circle is as capable of hosting fights between multiple groups as single-combat bouts,” I replied.

It was on this point that my allies had fought me the most. None of them had approved of the idea, but I had been adamant, mostly because I knew there was little chance of convincing the possessed to fight me one-on-one.

I knew if the only choices I left Avery and his ilk were facing me alone or spending a lifetime in servitude, they would opt for option four—rebellion.

In many ways, ritual combat would be no different from that, but in the Circle, the fallen would at least serve a purpose—strengthening the future scions of their Houses. And to get the possessed to commit to such, all I had to do was be willing to face them on my own. Yes, the risk was greater, but as I was learning, nothing worthwhile in the Game was ever achieved without some element of risk.

And facing forty, fifty, or even a hundred possessed alone was a level of risk I was comfortable with.

For a moment, Avery looked stumped. “You will face all of us? Alone?”

“All those who choose to enter the ritual circle,” I corrected and bared my teeth. “But yes, I will face all the contenders alone.”

Avery’s eyes narrowed. “No conditions?”

“None,” I replied blandly.

“What about your devil dog?” someone shouted from the crowd.

“That’s a good point,” Avery said sagely. “I’ve heard what she did to Castor’s people.” His eyes glittered. “Did you truly mean alone?” he jeered. “Or will she fight on your behalf?”

I laughed with genuine mirth. Ghost was my familiar, and Ceruvax had assured me that for the purposes of even single combat, the Game would allow her to fight by my side. But this was not the type of fight I wanted the pyre wolf involved in. “Ghost will not participate.”

For a wonder, the pyre wolf did not protest, but we’d discussed the matter beforehand, and she understood my reasons.

“Then I will choose option one,” Avery said abruptly. “Who’s with me?” he shouted without looking back.

Immediately, another three hundred possessed stepped forward.

Behind me, I heard Regus groan, and even the lichs looked worried, but I kept a smile plastered on my face.

I had a plan, after all.

✵ ✵ ✵

“Are you sure about this?” Algar asked for the tenth time.

I threw him an amused look. “Of course I am.”

“But four hundred possessed?” he asked, aghast. “And in that circle? There will be nowhere for you to run or hide!”

The final tally of foes I would be facing had increased as more possessed had joined the initial three hundred, their courage strengthened by the weight of numbers on their side.

I chuckled. “There is little objective difference between facing one hundred and four hundred.”

“True, both are ridiculous odds,” Regus said, joining us. “Will the circle even be able to hold that many?”

I glanced into the now-vacant courtyard where the former envoy was setting up the Ritual Circle. “Ceruvax has assured me it can.”

“Hmm,” Regus mused, glancing in that direction himself. Three separate groups stood on the outskirts of the square, watching the old wolf work. The first group was the four hundred contenders, although perhaps calling them one group was a stretch.

They’d split into two uneven sides. The first, around three hundred and fifty, congregated around Avery and two elites as they instructed the others on the battle plan. I snorted. Not for anything would I ever trust a plan that Avery put together.

The other fifty contenders were staring my way, their gazes burning with an intensity I did not understand.

“Who are they?” I asked Regus.

He grunted. “Wolves.”

I stared at him.

“Former Wolves,” he corrected. “And if I had to guess, they’ve all decided to enter the circle to protect you.”

“Really,” I murmured, my eyes narrowed in thought. I hadn’t been counting on any help.

“That’s much better,” Algar exclaimed in satisfaction. “Join up with them, and you will have a chance.”

I shrugged. Even if I could trust the former wolves, I didn’t think what Algar suggested was a good idea. I didn’t want to argue strategy, though, so I let the matter lie. “So, my claim has been accepted? The possessed believe I’m a scion?” I asked Regus.

He mirrored my earlier shrug. “The wolves do anyway. Many of them recognized Ceruvax.” He grimaced. “I overheard some of what the old man had to say to them. It was… harsh.”

I rubbed my lips. “They realize I will have to kill them?” Assuming they survived long enough for that to matter.

According to Ceruvax, once the Circle was raised, neither side could leave until the other was defeated, and the wolves would definitely not be entering the circle on my team, not after my commitment to Avery to face the contenders alone.

“They do,” he said heavily.

I bowed my head, regretting the loss. House Wolf couldn’t afford to lose any wolves, even those who had forsaken it, but the fifty dead former wolves’ lives wouldn’t be spent entirely in vain, as they likely knew already. Their spirits would strengthen my blood, awakening further blood memories.

My gaze fell on the second group. These were the possessed who’d chosen to make the transition to werewolves. Numbering over five hundred, they outstripped even the contenders. Farren was with them now, explaining the process they would undergo soon. The last group, comprising less than three scores, was gathered around Adriel. They were the ones who would become flesh golems.

I glanced at Regus. “You’re here to fetch me?”

He nodded.

For obvious reasons, everyone had decided it was best I attend to the werewolf candidates before entering the circle. After all, there was a chance I would not make it out.

I glanced behind me at Nyra and the three captains. Of everyone in the square, the four looked the most lost. My apprentice, in particular, was clinging desperately to Ghost. I sighed. She, too, was not going to be happy with the decisions I’d made. First, though, I had to deal with the warband.

“Be there in a minute,” I told Regus, then waved the three captains over to join me and Algar. “How much of all that did you understand?” I asked when the four were assembled before me.

The junior captains fielded the question to their superior. He shrugged. “Not much, but we understood enough to know that you are keeping your promise to see the possessed punished.”

I nodded. “There is something else I have to tell you.” I paused, searching for the right words.

“The warband won’t be accompanying you when you leave,” Algar said.

My brows rose in surprise. “How did you—”

“—guess?” Algar finished, his lips twisting in a bitter smile. “It was obvious.”

The other captains nodded. “This scion business, whatever it is, sounds like a big deal.”

“And since you’ve not told the council,” Zorg added, “it stands to reason that you must want to keep it a secret.”

“Which won’t last long once some dumb soldier spills the truth out there,” Everard finished caustically.

“I see,” I said. So, you have figured it out.”

Algar nodded. “What I’d like to know is if you planned this all along. Did you know the warband wouldn’t be accompanying you before we left New Haven?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said firmly. “Believe it or not, my strategy for dealing with the possessed was much simpler. I did not know until a day ago I would be revealing my House allegiance.”

“On the bright side,” Zorg quipped, “at least we now know the warband’s name is apt.”

Algar ignored him. “Being a scion is something dangerous then?” he asked, looking at me searchingly.

“Very,” I replied softly. “Once my identity becomes known, every Power in the Game will hunt me.”

Algar’s eyes widened. “Every Power?”

“Every Power,” I confirmed. “Draven’s Reach is safe, though. No one, not even the Powers, can penetrate the guardian’s defenses.”

“Your words imply you don’t expect your identity to remain hidden,” Megtir interjected. “That true?”

“It is. Sooner or later, the Powers will discover who I am.” I held their gazes. “Then the war will truly begin.”

Everard grunted. “And that’s when you will need us.”

I smiled humorlessly. “You and a million more like you.”

Algar nodded solemnly. “We shall await the day then. The Bane Wolves will be ready. You can count on it.”