Grand Game 433: Preparing for Battle (Patreon)

“Ah,” I exhaled.

“Tell us,” Ceruvax said, his words almost a demand.

Opening my eyes, I told them about my new Class and the benefits I had to choose from.

“That’s no ordinary Class,” Adriel said.

“I agree,” Farren said. “I know the Wolves have produced some powerful Primes before.” He glanced at Ceruvax. “But this is unusual even for them.”

Ceruvax nodded slowly. “I thought I knew every powerful epic Class variant the House had to offer, but I’ve never heard of the sire wolf Class.” He bowed his. “Why did Atiras never mention it?”

“Perhaps he didn’t know?” Adriel suggested.

The possibility seemed to disturb Ceruvax even more, and his frown deepened.

“We will have to leave analysis of the Class for later,” I said, drawing their attention. “I still have the Class benefit to choose.”

“You should rule out the two blood options: lycan renewal and blood caster,” Farren said. “There’s nothing wrong with either, but you don’t have the blood memories to make them count.”

I nodded. “Agreed. That leaves elder form and sire’s strain.”

“Elder form,” Ceruvax proposed immediately.

I smiled. “I had a feeling you would advocate for that. But tell me, why do you think it’s the right choice?”

“There is no wolf more powerful than an elder wolf,” he said simply. “In elder form, you can expect all your attributes to increase—significantly.” He paused. “They’re also about as hardy as werewolves, as mentally adept as dire wolves, and as magically strong as hellhounds.”

Farren nodded. “Everything Ceruvax says is true. Not even a lich will take on one lightly.”

“I will only be able to change into elder form once per day though,” I noted. “But far more damning is how obvious they are.”

Ceruvax frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“I can’t imagine elder wolves are common,” I replied. I had yet to run across one in the Game.

“That’s true,” Adriel said. “Even in my day, they were rare. And I can only assume they’re grown even more so after the new Powers’ victory.”

“Which is my point exactly,” I said. “How many sightings do you think it will take before the new Powers grow curious about the player who turns into an elder wolf?”

No one answered.

“And how long after that do you think it will take them to make the connection between the form and my bloodline?”

“Your point is taken,” Ceruvax said grudgingly. “Perhaps it is best to leave the selection of the ability until your next evolution.” He sighed. “And besides, with suitable investment in the ‘right’ traits, I suspect, sire’s strain can become powerful too.”

I nodded. “In that case, I best not waste any time. Avery is heading this way.” Closing my eyes, I willed my intent to the Game.

You have gained the trait: sire’s strain. This trait boosts all your existing and future wolf traits by +1 tier. Currently affected traits include void heritage, voidwalker, arctic wolf, and were’s bite.

You have upgraded void heritage to tier 2, increasing its benefits to +4 Dexterity, +4 Strength, +8 Mind, +8 Perception, and +12 Magic.

You have upgraded voidwalker to tier 2. In addition to enhancing your senses and granting you nethersight, the trait also makes you immune to blindness.

You have upgraded arctic wolf to tier 2, increasing its benefits to +10 Constitution, +4 Mind, and +6 Strength.

You have upgraded were’s bite to tier 2, increasing the maximum probability of its success to 30%.

I rocked back on my heels, doing some quick math in my mind. In total, I’d gained a whole twenty-eight attributes from my new trait. And that was not even considering the changes sire’s strain had wrought on voidwalker and were’s bite. Ceruvax was wrong, I realized.

The trait was already powerful.

“Old wolf, I think you’re in for a shock,” I murmured. “Sire’s strain is—”

“What’s going on here,” a querulous voice demanded.

I turned around slowly to face Avery. “We were just discussing strategy,” I replied blandly. “Is that a problem?”

He scowled suspiciously. “You better not be attempting to weasel out of the combat. I warn you if—”

“Ceruvax, if you don’t mind,” Farren cut in, “please take Avery along and see to the Circle’s final preparations.” He cast a sidelong look at Adriel.

“I’ll come along too,” Adriel said, taking her brother’s hint. Turning on her heel, the lich strode toward the center of the courtyard. “Come along, Avery,” she said without looking back.

Looking frustrated, the possessed’ gaze flitted between the departing pair and Farren, but he dared not disobey the archlich’s direct command, and so after no more than a final glare at me, he stomped away.

I turned to Farren, one eyebrow raised. “I gather you want to talk?”

He smiled. “I do, but the expression on Avery’s face alone made that worthwhile.”

“I won’t deny that I enjoyed it, too,” I replied with a grin of my own. “I know we haven’t had a chance to talk yet, but—”

“I understand,” Farren interjected. “And I won’t keep you. I only held you back to discuss one thing.” He hesitated, looking more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen him. “I’m not sure when, or even if, we’ll have a chance to talk again.”

I studied the archlich curiously. “What is it?”

“Do you know why I became a lich?” he asked abruptly.

I blinked. This was the last direction I expected the conversation to go. “Uhm, to escape the new—”

“No,” Farren said, slashing his hand down. “Loskin did it because he wanted to become Prime, Adriel because she loved Death too much, but me?” He smiled lopsidedly. “I did it to save my sister.”

“Ah.”

“Loskin always believed he was meant to be Prime,” he mused. “He wanted it so badly he was willing to do anything to achieve it.” He sighed. “Which is how we ended up here, torturing non-players and harvesting the bodies of baby players.”

I bit my lip. Where was Farren going with this? Had the archlich tired of life? Was that what this was about? “Are you trying to say you want to enter the Circle?” I asked slowly. “Because I don’t think we can afford to do without you right now.”

“What? You think I want to kill myself? No, of course not!” He frowned. “Although I might have to eventually, I suppose.”

I fell silent, waiting for him to explain.

“Loskin was wrong, you know,” the archlich said abruptly.

Another non-sequitur. “About?”

“It was not him the House watched closely. He was not the one destined to become Death Prime.”

“You?” I asked, even though the answer felt wrong.

Farren laughed with genuine humor. “No, of course not. It was Adriel.”

“I see,” I murmured. Now I knew where he was going with this. “You don’t want her to replace Kolath as Nexus’ guardian.”

“I don’t. She is too important for House Death to lose.”

“But she’s a lich,” I said delicately. “She told me herself that House Death abhors lichs. That by becoming one, she severed her ties with the House. How can—”

“Don’t be a fool, Michael,” Farren said mildly.

I stared at him. There was no hint of humor on the archlich’s face now. And anyway, Farren wouldn’t joke about this.

“Then you believe that whatever she did to become a lich can be reversed?” I asked softly, connecting the dots.

“Yes.”

My eyes narrowed. “How?”

“I preserved her body,” he said simply.

I waited for him to go on, but when he didn’t, I said, “You’re going to have to give me a bit more than that.”

Farren began pacing. “The details aren’t important right now. Suffice to say, I put Adriel’s body in stasis.” He gestured to the destroyed vault. “Much in the same manner we kept those player bodies on ice, only I did so more… efficiently. If Adriel is strong enough—and I know she is—she can reverse the lich-making ritual and recombine with her body.”

I rubbed my chin. “But what makes you think her body is still safe after all this time? It’s been centuries.” Many centuries.

“Oh, I have every reason to believe it’s still safe. I hid the body well. No one will find it.”

“Then how do I find it?”

Withdrawing a slim object from his robe, Farren handed it to me. “You will find everything you need in there.”

You have acquired a sealed missive.

The envelope was formed from thick, expensive paper. The front was blank except for a series of numbers stenciled boldly across the center. Turning it over, I saw a large wax insignia fixed on the back.

“Don’t try to open it,” Farren warned. “The envelope will destroy itself if you do. The letter is keyed only to Adriel. Give it to her when you reach Death’s home sector, the location of which is inscribed on the front.”

I nodded numbly, then glanced into the courtyard where Adriel was chatting with Ceruvax. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know about any of this?”

Farren snorted softly. “Of course not. And I prefer you not tell her until you reach the sector. Adriel can be… stubborn.”

“Right, and conveniently, when I do break the news to her, you won’t be around to suffer her wrath,” I grumbled.

“There’s that, too,” he said, smiling fleetingly. “One more thing.”

I held back a sigh. “I’m listening.”

“Stayne.”

I stared at him blankly. “What?”

“The ascendant undead you told Adriel about, remember him?”

“I know who he is,” I said irritably. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“He is important.”

“Why?” I demanded.

Farren exhaled. “He is an ascendant and bears a Mark of Death.” The archlich held my gaze in case I didn’t realize the significance of that. “That is a bloodline Mark. House Death’s Mark. And by your tale, this Stayne is serving a new Power.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would any new Power allow one of their servants, especially an ascendant one, to bear a House Mark?”

“That is curious,” I allowed.

“Which is why I need you to investigate the matter further.” Farren stared at me intently. “Will you do so? And more importantly, help Adriel regain her status?”

“Of course.” That I would help was never in any doubt. Somehow, I would find a way to fit it in between everything else I needed to do.

The Adjudicator has allocated you a new task: Resurrecting Death! The archlich has requested your aid in rebuilding House Death. Central to this is restoring the House’s scions. Farren has given you the coordinates of Death’s home sector as well as the location of Adriel’s original body. Help her reverse the lich-making ritual. Primary objective: Make Adriel a scion once again. Optional objective: Solve the mystery of Stayne’s Death Mark.

Farren sighed. “Thank you.”

I nodded. “You haven’t mentioned your own body, you know.”

The archlich didn’t answer immediately. “I could only save one of us,” he said finally. “I chose Adriel.”

I inclined my head, acknowledging his brave decision. “I will do my best to see your work to completion.”

✵ ✵ ✵

After our talk, Farren hurried ahead to help Ceruvax and Adriel establish order between the wolfmen and the possessed. The ritual combat would take place in the courtyard itself, with the onlookers watching from the outskirts. By all appearances, everything was ready.

My head bowed, I followed more slowly on Farren’s heels. From the right, I sensed Ghost and Nyra approaching, but lost in thought, I didn’t look up.

“Prime, there is someone here who wants to speak to you.”

Glancing up, I saw that the pair were not alone. A possessed kept pace beside the pyre wolf. My eyes narrowed as I recognized him. He was one of the former wolves Regus had pointed out earlier.

Drawing to a halt, I waited for the trio to catch up.

“Hail, scion,” the possessed said, bowing low.

Saying nothing, I waited.

He shifted uncomfortably. “My name is Darius. You may not know this, but we’re formerly of—”

“House Wolf. Yes, I heard. Regus and Ceruvax both mentioned you.”

“Ah, yes. The envoy.” Darius shook his head ruefully. “He is just as I remembered.”

“Why did you want to speak to me?” I asked patiently.

“We want to help, with the battle, I mean.”

“I will not share my plans,” I said softly.

“And I wouldn’t ask you to.” He inhaled deeply. “I’ve come to hear your orders.”

I kept my face impassive. “Why would I give you orders, possessed?”

“You can trust him,” Ghost interjected.

I acknowledged her words but didn’t tear my gaze away from Darius.

“We want to help you succeed,” the former wolf said. “We know it will not make up for everything we’ve done, but…” He shrugged helplessly.

Sighing, I relented. “How many can you count on?”

“Fifty-two,” he replied instantly.

I nodded. “Then keep them together and take out the enemy fighters.”

He frowned. “Why the fighters? The mages are the bigger threat. And aren’t you forgetting the two elites? They can—”

I cut him off. “I won’t explain. Kill the possessed warriors, as many as you can.”

He bobbed his head. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.” I hesitated, then added, “For what it’s worth, I appreciate your sacrifice. House Wolf will be stronger for it.”

He straightened. “Thank you, scion.”

I began to turn away, then paused. “Oh, and Darius.”

“Yes, scion?”

“Make sure to tell the others: when they fall under my blade, I will do my best to make it painless.”