Chương 104: Chapter 103: The Five Thrones [INTERLUDE]

Kingdom of Ravenloft, Region of Silverwing, Dukedom of Silverwing Sunday, 23th March, 2042 Silverhorn Highlands The Silverfang Battleboar died with a squeal that echoed across the highland clearing. Phantom pulled his blade free and flicked the blood from its edge in one practiced motion. The Elite's body dissolved into motes of light, its loot window appearing in his interface before the particles had finished fading. Another Rare, with decent stats that he'd pass to the armory.

"You're distracted," said a voice behind him. Lux stepped forward, his white staff still radiating with the afterglow of a healing spell he only cast to memorize good habits; his leader definitely didn't need it. The Cleric was younger than Phantom by at least a few years, but he had a regal posture and a calm, measured aura that not many of his peers could replicate. In two weeks of Godsrealm, Phantom had encountered many players.

He recruited the best and the brightest, and he was more than happy with the roster he was coming up with. He even browsed through the Kingdom forums once they opened, to see what the other regions were like, to prepare for potential conflicts and rivalries. Ravenloft had many talented adventurers that he wanted to keep track of. But there was exactly one player that he would not play without, and he was standing next to him.

"Distracted isn't the word," Phantom said.

"I'm just thinking."

"The Tidemark thing?"

"The Tidemark thing." They'd both watched Shieldbreaker's recording, multiple times. They studied the whole series of events, analyzing players based on formation cohesion, spell coordination, movement patterns, tactical decisions, just to name a few. It wasn't an overexaggeration to call it professional analysis, the kind Phantom had done in every MMO he'd ever competed in.

"Stone messaged me last night," Phantom said.

"He's on his way to Silverwing with Sylph. Full debrief tomorrow."

"What did he say about the party?" Lux asked.

"The Swordsman is Athos. He's the founder of Second Wind. Strong leader, strong fighter, from what I've heard. The Paladin, Lothras, is a Crimson Court affiliate, plays lone wolf but fights like a boulder. It's kind of worrying having someone like that in Crimson Court's ranks. The Bard is Kara, also member of Second Wind, along with her party of talented individuals. Honestly, might be the best Bard in the region." Phantom paused.

"And the Ranger is Orion."

"Stone's friend."

"Stone's friend," Phantom confirmed.

"The one who declined our invitation." Lux was quiet for a moment.

"The one who made the shot, presumably."

"Definitely." Phantom sheathed his sword and looked out across the highland, toward the distant spires of the regional capital.

"Stone says he's the best Ranger he's ever seen, and Sylph is agreeing with the statement."

"So what's the play?" Phantom had been asking himself the same question. King's Glade was the strongest guild in Silverwing. They had more than two hundred confirmed members for the future. Officers in every county, resource chains, dungeon teams, a PvP division that was dominating most local scenes. They were positioned to stand out, and they would.

But a player like Orion, independent, unguilded, with the kind of talent that influenced the flow of the game, was a variable he couldn't predict and definitely couldn't ignore.

"We watch," Phantom said.

"If he comes to us, we welcome him. If he doesn't, we make sure he knows the door's open." Lux nodded. Then, after a beat: "He'll be trouble for someone." Phantom smiled.

"As long as it's not us." Kingdom of Ravenloft, Region of Silverwing, County of Salt Throne Sunday, 23th March, 2042 Ruins of Fort Moore The hall had belonged to a minor lord before it fell to bandits and decay, or so they heard. Skull had simply marched in with a hundred players at his back, slaughtered the outlaws occupying it even without taking the appropriate quest first, and then sat on the massive wooden chair in the broken hall. That was the thing about Skull.

If he wanted something, it was only a matter of time before he took it. The Berserker sat in the chair, which he'd repositioned at the head of the hall, and listened to Lothras speak through an item called "Telepath Stone". The Paladin's report was thorough. He described the civil war arc like a soldier reporting to their superior: the march, the Salt Plains battle, the infiltration, the crystal shot, the coup's collapse. He omitted nothing and embellished nothing.

Skull listened with his fingers steepled beneath his chin and his eyes half-closed. Twenty-seven Crimson Court members had participated in the Tidemark battle. They'd fought well. ProDG had anchored the right flank, Lothras held the center, and the others acted quickly and wisely whenever needed. Yet Skull was curious about something else.

"This Orion," Skull said, when Lothras finished.

"Tell me about him." Lothras considered.

"He doesn't talk much. Thinks before he acts. And when he acts, it works. He is quite spot on."

"Literally, it seems."

"Literally."

"And he's not joining anyone? Not Second Wind, not King's Glade, not us?"

"Considering Lorrando made him an enemy very early, Crimson Court is not an option for him. But he seems to decline all other requests as well. He's… particular." Skull opened his eyes. They were dark and sharp, the eyes of a man who'd built a four-hundred-player empire in Knighthood and intended to build a bigger one here.

"Kaelith and Seraphina. I'm told they've joined Second Wind. Along with a mage named Cyrus and his group." Lothras didn't react for a couple seconds.

"They made their choice. Kaelith and I discussed it." Skull was quiet for a long moment. He really wanted to get his hands on the duo, along with the Bard that seemed to be the anchor of their team. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work. The hall was empty except for the leader and two of his trusted men, and the torchlight cast long shadows across the stone floor.

Somewhere outside, Crimson Court members were sparring in the courtyard, the clash of weapons could be heard coming through the windows.

"Athos is getting ahead," Skull said briefly.

"Second Wind was a footnote a week ago. Now they have Cyrus, Verdugo's crew, the Shadowreach trio, and enough battle-tested members to field a serious force." He stood and walked to the window, looking out at his guild's training grounds.

"King's Glade thinks they own Silverwing. Second Wind is rising fast. And somewhere out there, a lone Ranger is collecting achievements that most guilds would kill for." A cold smile crossed his face.

"Interesting times."

"What do you want me to do?" Lothras asked. Skull turned.

"What you've always done. Watch. Report. And when the moment comes, be ready." Lothras nodded once and the projection disappeared. Skull returned to his wooden chair and sat in the torchlight, alone with his plans, with a cold smile on his face that hadn't disappeared for a long time. Kingdom of Ravenloft, Region of Ravencrown, The Crownlands Sunday, 23th March, 2042 The city of Ravencrown Ryder thought about the footage he'd seen while sharpening his lance.

A thousand players charging across the fields, lunging onto abyssal creatures coming from dark portals. A whole city, put under enchanted sleep. The logistics impressed him more than the combat. Mobilizing that many players, coordinating across guilds that were barely formed, keeping discipline during a multi-phase engagement: those were skills many players lacked, yet it seemed like Tidemark had enough strong anchors to keep it all together. Lowkey dropped into the seat beside him at their inn table.

"Still thinking about Tidemark?"

"I'd be a fool not to."

"It's just a county quest, Ryder. Every region had something. Ravencrown had the Drake migration. Ravenbeak had a plague arc."

"Ravencrown's Drake migration had us do fetch quests and rescue missions. We were extras while the high level NPCs sorted out the threat. Blackthorn county's plague arc had the mobs getting twisted. Cool things, but not the same. This was a political coup, a siege, and a thousand-player battle that resolved in a single night." Lowkey shrugged.

"Fine. So a county in Silverwing got lucky with content. How does it affect us?"

"It doesn't. Not directly." Ryder pulled up Avalon's guild roster from the in-game Notes menu. Two hundred and seventy three, and growing daily.

"But there are quite a few… interesting parts. Like that Ranger."

"Orion, right?"

"Mm." Ryder had spent half an hour on the forums reading about Orion. The Black Ranger of Carpa. Tournament finalist. Led a Field Boss raid in week one and operated with a small, tight party that somehow caused all the ruckus in Tidemark. A thought had flickered in the back of his mind when he'd read the profile. A familiar pattern. The lone wolf. The player who made decisions three moves ahead. The refusal to join established power structures. But Silverwing was the wrong region.

Ryder's intelligence network, such as it was, had placed Seb somewhere in Asia. A contact in Beijing had mentioned a sighting, and there was a player in the Qing Kingdom, eastern continent, a Ranger named Zhan Ji who'd been climbing the rankings with an efficiency that felt very, very familiar. Zhan Ji. A born tactician and a remarkable Ranger, operating in the eastern continent. It was the smart play, and Seb had always been smart. Orion was probably just talented.

Godsrealm was full of talented people; it was built for them. Ryder dismissed the thought and returned to the guild roster. He had a kingdom to conquer, after all.

"Zero's back tomorrow," Lowkey said.

"Queen's bringing her squad from Ashenmere. Mordred's already here."

"Good. We push for the capital dungeon tomorrow. There were three attempts from various groups so far, none had pushed past the first chamber."

"What about House of the Raven?" Ryder's jaw tightened, barely perceptible.

"I have a deal with Aela: if we fail our run, it's their turn. Besides, they are killing Field Bosses tomorrow."

"Aren't you worried about them having a head start?"

"If my info is correct, the dungeon has a Guild Seal as a guaranteed drop. We had killed seven level 25 Field Bosses, and didn't get one."

"And what if you're wrong?" Ryder smiled.

"I'm never wrong." Kingdom of Ravenloft, Region of Ravenbeak, County of Ironholt Sunday, 23th March, 2042 The city of Ironholt Ace was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his barstool.

"You're kidding me," Cassie said, pulling up the forum thread on her interface.

"'Who shot the crystal?' They needed this many replies to figure it out?"

"Well, they don't know him like we do." Ace wiped his eyes, still grinning.

"Oh, Seb, you've done it again."

"You knew," she said.

"I know he told you an hour ago, but you already knew Orion was Seb, didn't you?" Ace's grin settled into a smile.

"I suspected after I saw the tournament footage."

"If Ryder finds out—""Ryder thinks Seb's in Asia." Ace set his glass down.

"I made sure of that before going to Scotland. That player, Zhan Ji, came in clutch. He's also very similar to Seb; not seeking publicity. That will likely buy us a couple weeks. Maximum distance, minimum exposure."

"Well, now Seb is the reason for a failed coup in the Kingdom, so I wouldn't be so sure." Ace laughed again.

"Yeah. That's the thing about Seb. He might have been trying to stay unnoticed, but he simply can't not be Zephyr. It's hardwired into his brain." Cassie shook her head, but she was smiling.

"So what now? He's going to have every guild in Silverwing knocking on his door."

"He'll say no to all of them. He's not ready." Ace's voice carried the understanding of someone who'd known Sebastian Quill for a very long time.

"But he's closer than he was a week ago. And when he is ready…" He trailed off, looking out the tavern window at Ironholt's mountain skyline. Gryphon's Claw was growing, collecting good players, keeping up with the rest of the top dogs. The foundation was solid. Cassie was running operations with terrifying efficiency, Carnivore and Werebear were developing into officers he could rely on, and somewhere, in a different region, his best friend was finally coming back to life.

"When he's ready," Cassie finished for him, "he'll shake the world." Ace raised his glass.

"To the boss." Kingdom of Ravenloft, Region of Onyx Tower, Dukedom of Onyx Tower Sunday, 23th March, 2042 City of Blackreach Prometheus sat at the head of a long obsidian table. He was a large man, a towering Guardian among the players of the Golden Order. There were nine other chairs at the table, all occupied by his generals: the nine strongest players in not just the guild, but the dukedom of Onyx Tower as well, each one recruited, evaluated, and placed with the precision of chess pieces on a board.

They represented every major class, every role. They covered every part of the game and together, they commanded a guild of more than four hundred players.

"The Tidemark incident," Prometheus said first. His voice was low, controlled, the kind of voice that made people lean forward to hear it.

"You've all seen the footage. Give me your assessments." The first to speak was Bartholomeo, his Swashbuckler general.

"The coordination was impressive for a bunch of unguilded randoms. Hundreds of players, no unified command structure, and they still managed a multi-phase operation. Says more about the content's design than the players' skill, but still."

"Disagree," said Escanor, the Berserker who ran the Order's PvP operations. He was enormous, even bigger than the Guild Leader, with arms like tree trunks and a permanent, cocky smile on his face.

"The content gave them a framework. The execution was player-driven. I think it was impressive."

"Orion," said a quieter voice. Sol, the Cleric was someone who rarely spoke and was always worth hearing when she did.

"The Ranger. He's the one to watch." Prometheus nodded.

"Why?"

"The Tidemark sub can't stop talking about him. He stands out even among the other players involved in the questline. And he declines every invitation. Either he's arrogant, or he's waiting for something specific. Lots of variables." Prometheus considered this, but ultimately, there was nothing they could do at this point. The Golden Order's strategy was simple in concept and ruthless in execution: monopolize Onyx Tower's strongest.

They recruited in all of the six counties, and they were aggressively poaching the best players around. What they wanted to do was simple: control the region capital so completely that no other guild could operate without the Order's permission. And for that, they needed to keep all major spawn points in check. They needed to keep control over dungeons. They needed to be present on possible trade routes. Most players, even most guilds made their luck by clearing content. Golden Order wanted to monopolize it.

Other regions had multiple guilds competing for dominance. Silverwing had King's Glade, Crimson Court, Second Wind, and half a dozen others fighting for scraps. Ravencrown had Avalon and House of the Raven circling each other. Ravenbeak, Moon Gate, Featherfall… they all had multiple powerhouses vying for dominance. Onyx Tower had the Golden Order and a bunch of second rate groups.

"The Tidemark event is noteworthy," Prometheus said.

"But it's not our concern. Silverwing is two regions away. By the time cross-regional conflict becomes relevant, we will have already consolidated. No guild in the kingdom will be able to challenge our infrastructure." He stood. The nine Generals straightened in their chairs.

"This week's priorities. Escanor, I want the Ashenmere mining corridor locked down. No independent guilds, no solo farmers. Our terms or nothing. Bartholomeo, intelligence network. I want reports on every guild leader in the region, their rosters, their resources, their weaknesses. Sol, the Church of the Radiant Path questline in Grimhold is entering its final phase. I want first clear. Take twenty Paladins and Clerics, grind to level 30 this week and do it."

He went around the table, assigning tasks to each General with the efficiency of a commander issuing battle orders. When he finished, he looked at the map of the Kingdom of Ravenloft spread across the obsidian table. Six regions, dozens of counties, hundreds of thousands of players. And at the center of the Onyx Tower region, a golden circle marking the Order's territory. It was going to get bigger.