Chương 100: Chapter 99: After the Storm

Tidemark looked different in the late afternoon light. I spawned where I'd logged out, in the corridor outside the fourth-floor command post of the Knight's Tower. The blood on the floor had been scrubbed away, and the bodies were gone. Someone had placed three candles where the knights had fallen, their flames small and steady in the still air. I stood there for a moment, looking at the candles before heading downstairs. The city outside was healing in small increments, one at a time.

A baker on the corner of Market Street was staring at the rubble where his neighbor's wall had collapsed. He looked at it for a long time. Then he turned around, went back inside, and started kneading dough. I could hear the work of it through his open window as I passed. An old man sat on a bench near the harbor gate, feeding pigeons from a torn bag of seed. The pigeons didn't care that a war had happened. For them, it was just another day.

A woman was walking the streets near the Church Square, calling a name I didn't recognize. Over and over, the same name, her voice hoarse and cracking. Nobody answered, but she kept calling, and I felt a knot forming in my gut. Near the gate, a city guard stood at his post, blood on his sword and a look in his eyes that made me wonder whether he knew whose it was. The brainwashed soldiers were the ones I felt worst for.

They'd woken from the enchantment to find weapons in their hands and bodies at their feet, and no amount of explanation would make that feel like it wasn't their fault. The rubble from the gate had been cleared into rough piles along the road. Stonemasons were already working on the breach, fitting temporary wooden barricades into the gap while the permanent repairs were planned.

Later that day, I found out about the casualties; almost a hundred soldiers died on the day of the Battle, and there were civilian casualties as well, despite all the effort to keep them safe. Dozens more were wounded. This was a game. I had to keep reminding myself. But the sting of it was all too real. I knew I wasn't the only one thinking like that. Most players were affected by yesterday's casualties far more than by their lost experience points or items.

I tried not to think about what would have happened if I'd missed. I found Lothras on the steps of the Lord's Hall. He was sitting with his back against a column, his shield propped beside him, watching the city with the quiet attention that was his signature. His armor was polished; the dents and cracks from the Salt Plains had already disappeared. He looked like he'd been here for a while. I sat down beside him as he acknowledged me with a brief nod. We sat there for several minutes, watching the city work.

"There was this pair of players, from Midnight Sun," Lothras said, without preamble.

"Somnus and Redcap."

"What about them?"

"Good people. And good players. An Acolyte and a Lancer." He stretched before continuing.

"The Acolyte's positioning during the Salt Plains was impeccable. Never out of place, never caught exposed, always where the line needed support before the line knew it needed support. And he looked like he didn't even care about it at all." I never heard Lothras compliment anyone this much before, not even us.

"And the Lancer?"

"Flows through the battlefield with ease." A pause.

"Has a lot of raw talent."

"Why are you talking about them all of a sudden?"

"They got me thinking. After a week of partying with you and fighting side by side with them, I realized there were many talented adventurers around." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"That I can confirm."

"I want to apologize." What?

"I know how it sounds," he said, "but it's true. I thought I was standing way above the rest, and I didn't like the idea of others dragging me down. But all you guys did was make things that would have been impossible for me alone possible. So thank you, and sorry."

"Means a lot, thanks," I nodded.

"But I realized something, too." He looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You are standing way above the rest. We all do." He smiled.

"What makes you say that?"

"See, I was debating whether I was as good as I thought I was since day 1," I started talking.

"Lorrando almost got as many points at the archery competition as I did. I was saved by Stone and Cyrus and the mechanics of the game too many times to count." I stood up.

"But yesterday made me realize that having strong people around doesn't diminish you. Quite the opposite, in fact." I offered a handshake.

"I could have missed that shot. But I didn't. Just like you didn't die a single time throughout the whole quest, or how Kara and Athos were crucial to freeing the city." He took my hand.

"That's a good way to look at it."

"I think so, too. And all of that means that we truly are the best there are. We should embrace it. Without turning into unbearable jerks," I added fast. Lothras laughed, probably for the first time since I met him.

"You might be right, Orion." We stayed and talked for a bit longer. Neither of us mentioned Calian. The fact that a level 70 elite NPC with ties to an organization of dark mages had walked calmly out of Tidemark without so much as a backward glance was not something we could discuss today. Athos and Kara arrived an hour later. I heard Kara before I saw her. Her voice carried up the street from the harbor district, humming a familiar tune.

"Hey, guys!" Athos said.

"Hello, handsome," Kara winked at both of us.

"Hope you all got a good night's sleep, because after the ceremony, we have to go and farm for my lost armor piece.

"What are you talking about?" Lothras was clearly not seeing the picture.

"Well, since some dark mage decided to shoot me yesterday, I lost my glove," she pouted.

"I know where it drops, but it would be much faster to farm for it with you guys."

"I mean, you did stand in the middle of the plaza playing music while surrounded by enemies," Athos pointed out.

"You should have expected as much."

"That was the plan!"

"And the plan worked. Beautifully."

"The plan cost me a Rare glove."

"The plan saved an entire temple full of prisoners."

"Fair enough." They'd respawned in Maelridge, as I expected, and sailed back on the first available ship.

"Anyway," Athos said and shook our hands.

"Lothras, Orion. Good to see you both in one piece."

"More or less," I said.

"Drinks," Kara said.

"Now."

The tavern was called The Salted Mast, and by the time we arrived, it had become the unofficial headquarters of every player who'd fought in the battle. The place was packed: adventurers filled every table, lined the bar five deep, and spilled out onto the street where the tavern's owner had dragged extra benches and barrels to accommodate the overflow. The noise was extraordinary: a wall of voices swapping stories, arguing tactics, laughing at things that had been terrifying twelve hours ago.

Stone found us almost immediately. The Guardian had somehow secured a large corner table despite the chaos, the kind of territorial achievement that came naturally to a man built like a wardrobe.

"You beautiful idiot," he said, pulling me into a one-armed hug that lifted me off my feet.

"That shot. It was you, right? You're crazy good."

"I have my moments." I smiled as he put me back down. Stone looked at us for a long moment, then laughed. Sylph materialized beside us with two mugs of ale in each hand, distributing them with the efficiency of someone who'd been doing this since the tavern opened. The drinks kept coming. The barkeeper, a huge man with a scarred jaw and arms like a blacksmith, had declared all drinks free for anyone who'd fought in the battle, however almost none of the adventurers took him up on the offer.

In fact, we were leaving massive tips everywhere. The four of us settled into Stone's corner table and drank. We talked about the battle, the parts we'd each seen, and the parts we hadn't. Athos described the march from the players' perspective. Lothras provided the military analysis. Kara recounted the temple assault with the dramatic flair of a born performer, complete with sound effects and hand gestures. And I told them about the shot.

I repeated what I had told Ace earlier, about the climb, the positioning, the moment of absolute stillness before the arrow left the bow, and how the crystal had shattered. The table went quiet when I finished.

"Four hundred meters," Stone said softly. He shook his head and raised his mug.

"To the Black Ranger." I suddenly had deja vu from the Oakenlight tournament.

"To all of us," I corrected. Our mugs, kegs, and cups clinked together. Outside, the city was preparing. Lanterns were being hung along the main streets. Blue and silver banners replaced the last of Darius's black avian standards, flowers were being arranged at the entrance to the Lord's Hall, and through the open tavern door, I could see servants carrying furniture and decorations up the hill. The recoronation was tonight.

The Count was going to reclaim his throne, properly this time, with his people watching, his crown on his head, and the Trident in his hand. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Finish your drinks," Athos said, standing.

"We've got a ceremony to attend." Kara drained her mug in one long pull and set it down with a decisive clink.

"Let's go crown a Count."