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[>>Now replaying: Log 1.10 - inventory.rar]

Date: Error

Location: Zephyro’s Domain?

//I wonder what Kain thought when he grabbed that rock. The real Kain, not the mythical one. The first person to ever use a weapon on another. Then again, perhaps he couldn’t really think at all, just an ape venting his aggression with the first tool that came to mind. Perhaps we are genebound for violence, cursed forever by our animal instinct that would pervert our tools for wickedness.//

[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

E99 %No speech detected, 5626ms%

I hurriedly motioned for the crowd in front of the gate to rise, and they obliged, still looking at me with that mixture of fear and hope that made me feel like my lungs were being pulled into my stomach. I wished I could have found some encouraging words, something to assuage their fears, but I was too focused on trying to make sense of it all.

Zephyro’s story of his people almost sounded plausible, if it hadn’t been completely insane. No matter how realistic everything felt, how much sense it made in its context, it had to be a Dream Maze. I didn’t even try to entertain the thought it could be real. The implications of the entire thing being true were completely ludicrous. Me, going on a murderous rampage through Veltruvia, despite knowing fully well that I didn’t have enough of an army to back me up? Losing Novus Apex? Building and hiding a bunker in my own backyard, before I then somehow managed to hold, control, and release enough of my Wish to change the entire planet?

Not fucking likely.

And yet, when I reached for my Wish again, yearning for its reassuring chime, only silence replied. It taunted me with its portents while Zephyro started to comfort his people, urging them to find safety inside the walls.

“I have to get the other scouts ready, Sultana,” Kasha said, with a smile.

“Oh,” I replied, pulling my head out of my ass. “Well, it was nice to meet you—“

She laughed and shook her head. “Oh no, this isn’t goodbye, Sam. We’ll see each other again, and soon.”

I nodded, smiling, and after Kasha left, I went to stand next to Zephyro while he talked to his people. He was politely, but firmly herding them through the gate, which would have to be shut soon if it was supposed to do its job. With a few ominous hints about the Feral we had seen, It was easy enough for him to get them through the gate and onto a small market square, and soon the Vizier and I stood inside the walls.

Still, without any obvious danger in sight, many of his people had stopped the second they felt safe. When they spotted Zephyro and me, they started to flock, around us hungry for reassurance. We were close to the carriage he had promised earlier, and I couldn’t wait to finally get into that thing and let the rest of the journey pass me by. I had enough of monstrous rats and ominous revelations for the day, but there was still the matter of going through some ceremony before I could even hope to wake up. What if the Maze only ended after every single Feral in the city was dead? Considering the size of the place, it could take years to find every single monster hiding in its streets, especially in the outskirts.

But that was something I could worry about later, preferably while sitting in a coach and getting pulled to the palace.

Which meant getting Zephyro to either show me the carriage or tell me where he parked it. But he was surrounded by worried citizens, and from what I learned of the Vizier so far he wouldn’t leave a single soul unsoothed unless he was literally being forced to, so I did my best to help. Might as well help him to speed things along.

Not that I had to force myself to help. For lack of a better term, Zephyro’s people were just that. People. If I assumed them to be robotic and awkwardly uniform, I was proven wrong after mere seconds. They were old and young, tall and short, reed-thin to muscular, but two attributes united them all. They were all healthy and friendly to a fault. At first, I thought it was because Zephyro had talked me up, or because of my status as a semi-religious figure but they weren’t mindlessly obeisant either. If they saw a Saint in me, they still treated me like a human being, which was a pleasant surprise. I’d had much worse, and at times, the alienation got to me. Here, if anything, people were too quick to close that gap.

An old cobbler told me about the shoes he made, and I promised I’d give his shop a visit at some point. A young couple wanted my blessing to have a child, and I told them I’d do my best once I’d reached the palace. A tavernkeeper just wanted to shake my hand, and a carpetweaver asked for my opinion on his latest design. It was blue, which I liked, and he said the highlights that would make it look like a circuit board were going to be stitched in cyan.

So it went for a while. Everyone was friendly and trying to distract themselves from the ominous feeling that hung in the air. Even so, it was hard for me to find the right words that would snap them all out of their anxious mood and finally get them moving. I wasn’t the greatest public speaker, and while I would walk through fire to help my friends, building empathy with strangers wasn’t my strong suit, either. Still, I managed to return every genuine smile, and even let some of them hug me when they asked, even though I was surprised that they would want to. Despite my best efforts to mask it, however, there was nothing I could do to not stiffen a little at every touch. It had nothing to do with these people, and I knew it, but I never enjoyed physical proximity.

I couldn’t help but keep looking through the still-open gate, over the burning Outskirts. Even though no more Ferals appeared, a growing feeling of unease insisted we should at least be catching glimpses glimpse of the odd rat or whatever. So when the square behind the gate finally started to empty a couple of minutes later, and the massive wooden doors began to shut, I breathed a lot easier.

“Thank you, Sultana,” Zephyro said, finally. “It was most kind of you to speak to the people.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, picking up the Torch replica from a nearby market stall. Holding it all the time had been awkward, and I didn’t want to wave a bent mace in people’s faces while trying to assure them everything was fine. I finally pushed it into my belt, and even though it pressed uncomfortably into my side, it held. Good enough for now.

I glanced around the square. It was obvious this place was usually bustling with activity, but most of the stalls were empty now. A couple of them had tarps draped over goods that looked suspiciously like machine parts, and the entire place was lit by a giant floodlight attached to a nearby watchtower. The air smelled of spices and brand-new plastic, and I could still hear the fading din of thousands of people making their way deeper into the city.

A few had stayed, however. They all had that rugged outdoorsy look, men and women alike, and held weapons that reminded me a lot of crossbows, except that there wasn’t a line strung between the limbs. There were about two to three dozen of them, all standing and waiting in various stages of readiness. Some checked their weapons, others chatted with anyone who came too close. I’d seen both types of behavior a lot, before battles. Usually, the more you fought, the quieter you got, but there were always some people, like Lorelye, who just needed to talk, just to not scream. A cursory glance in Zephyro’s direction told me he was reluctant to go, and it wasn’t too hard to guess why.

“You want to stay, don’t you?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Yes, Sultana,” Zephyro said after a moment’s hesitation. “As I said, I am the only true Soldier this city has, and…”

“Okay,” I said and finally relaxed a little. The decision to stay and fight was easy, welcome, even. The lies, the riddles, and all my anxieties began to fade to unimportance in the face of certain battle.

When Zephyro saw me checking my bent mace with all the skepticism it deserved, he grimaced.

“Sultana… do you perhaps mean to stay?”

“Sure,” I nodded. I wanted nothing more than to get comfortable in that carriage and head towards waking up, but I knew the sort of traps Dream Mazes laid for you. If I left now, chances were the Vizier would die and no one would be able to grant me that power he spoke about.

More importantly, however, it felt so very, very wrong to leave someone behind to fight my battles for me.

Zephyro grimaced. “Sultana, if I may utter a plea… I wish you would take a carriage and head toward the Palace. You are safe within these walls and can travel alone from here onward without issue. Still, I would fear for you once battle is joined, and chaos reigns.”

“Look, I might not be…” Not be what? An extra-dimensional being? An AI? A Mage Lord?

“I might not be like you,” I said, “but I can hold my own, Zephyro.” I knew he meant well, but when he suggested I run like a coward, he had tugged at that calm I’d been looking forward to. Now that the fight was no longer inevitable, an ember of doubt settled into my chest. It felt twice as wrong without that calming glow.

“Of course, Sultana, but as I said, while your power is vast in the Real, in this Domain it is as though you were fighting completely unarmed.”

“Sure, because I still can’t advance my own equipment. And yes, the scepter is probably not the most ideal weapon, but I can just pick up another one, right?”

“You still haven’t reclaimed your power, Sultana?” Zephyro asked, and when I shook my head, he cursed in Arabic, which turned quite a few heads around the plaza. “I must offer you another thousand apologies.”

“No,” I said, ignoring his cursing. I didn’t like being reminded that I was essentially powerless in this Dream. Without it, I felt naked, just like when—

> I can still hear the screams. I can still feel my head impacting the plane seat in front of me, taste the blood as my spine snaps, and smell the seawater pulling my broken body below the waves.

> I can still see that bright flash, and remember an impossible conversation led in a language my mind declines to process.

> But I feel grass under my palms. Smell wet soil and that calming scent that soothes the world after a rainstorm. My back feels wet and cold, and when I move, still half-delirious, the thin gown I am wearing clings to my back. I open my eyes and trees I know for certain don’t exist on Earth are greeting me.

> Time passes in disbelief.

> Night falls.

> A wolf howls close by, and I tell myself it’s all a dream, over and over, even as I grab a stick and get up.

> The sound of a bell, eternal in its might, shakes my body to its core, renders me maddeningly awake.

> I keep trying to ignore it, desperately denying the truth even as it is being told over and over in the cacophonous roar of a clapper striking iron.

> But I keep trying, despite the tears, despite the fact that all I’ve ever known is gone.

I grimaced at the sudden onslaught of memories. Why did I have to remember that moment, and why now? I shuddered at the thought of that deep, endlessly lonely void. It was a recurring theme in all of my nightmares. I would relive this scene, but it would be slightly different each time. A few moments later, a monster would come slinking through the trees. Sometimes it was a wolf like it had been in real life. Sometimes it was a spider, or a giant mole, or one time even a giant metal duck with red eyes and chainsaw-laced beak.

One thing would stay the same, though; when I tried to run, the trees would block my path, force me to fight. The monster would close in, and the bells would ring louder and louder, and then when it burst out of me, I woke up screaming, covered in sweat.

Usually in a bed I’d accidentally advanced in my sleep, or holding a brand new alarm clock.

I had an entire collection.

I blinked the thoughts away and focused.

Getting out of the Maze was all that mattered, the sooner the better.

Zephyro had stepped closer, offering to steady me, but I shied away from his hand.

“It’s fine. Just give me a weapon and let me help.”

“I am afraid it won’t be that simple, oh Sultana,” Zephyro said, chagrined, and pulled back his hand.

“I’m pretty sure I can use a crossbow, Zephyro,” I said flatly. All of this talking was getting us nowhere. It was clear Zephyro was making excuses to get me away from the fight, which I could appreciate, but it was getting ridiculous.

To my side, a woman apparently agreed, at least if her long-drawn sigh was any indication. I was not surprised when I saw Kasha returning, smile on her face, crossbow cradled in her arms, primed and ready.

“Hey,” I said, and she winked.

“These weapons are part of us, Sultana,” she said, patting the butt of her crossbow. “You can’t really use them, because they’re not made for you. Or maybe you’re not made for them, I can’t be quite sure.”

“Even though the honored Vizier doesn’t like it,” Kasha said, responding to Zephyro’s glare with a relaxed smile, “You need to understand that in a Domain, things don’t necessarily work as they do in the Real.”

“Shafi, please… I worry that the Sultana will—”

“Oh buzz off, honored Vizier,” Kasha said. There was no vitriol in her voice, just something I thought I recognized as hangman’s humor. “She still doesn’t know anything about how things work around here, and metaphors about metaphors won’t help her survive what’s to come.”

After another second of staring down Zephyro’s objections, she turned back to me and continued.

“Well…” For all her bluster toward Zephyro, she didn’t sound quite comfortable talking about it herself. Her tone reminded me a bit of trying to tell Shareholders they wouldn’t get their quarterly payouts, without directly saying the words. “It is the real world, Sultana. This isn’t some kind of dream or something, I mean. I never thought about it from that perspective, but I guess it must be kind of hard to wrap your mind around it.”

She grimaced but soldiered on. “So, it’s the real world, but not the Real, you understand? It’s like um… augmented reality? Instead of virtual reality? Kind of like a hyperreality?”

I looked at her, blankly, and she turned, trying to find a better explanation. Finally, she pointed at one of the houses. “Our homes! They aren’t real buildings, in the Real, of course, but they represent the concept of home, for us. A place to rest, be safe, and recuperate. Have some food, you know? I mean, every house is not directly a charging station, but different slots within that charging station, and here, look, every market stall isn’t a physical store, but an interface for us to handshake and exchange data. So I guess everything is real, it’s just another layer of reality superimposed over the actual world if that makes sense. Think of it as a super-detailed map of reality that changes in real time, but isn’t quite to scale, and also shows a lot of stuff the humans can’t see.”

I nodded, even though I felt like I needed to smoke a pack of Gauloises to understand even a fraction of what she was talking about. Kasha picked up on my confusion, and tried again, holding up her crossbow.

“So this weapon here? That’s not actually a weapon. Well, it is, or it can be, but…” she sighed, and looked to Zephyro for help. He had crossed his arms and shrugged, however, as if to say You started it, now you can finish it, too.

“So a weapon can be a representation of a real weapon,” she said, waiting for me to nod before continuing, “but it can also just be a visualization of our ability to harm other programs if that makes sense?”

I nodded again, if a bit more hesitant.

“Good, because then you also got that everything in here can be either something that exists in the Real, in our Domain, or in both at the same time, right?” She looked so hopeful, I couldn’t help but nod another time, even though that really didn’t make any sense at all to me.

She sighed with obvious relief at a hard job well done. “So, that’s why you can’t use my weapon. You don’t have the necessary hardware to run it.”

Or, more realistically, because I wasn’t a machine, and this was a Dream Maze designed to keep me in here as long as possible.

“So, this crossbow is… a program?” I asked. Kasha wasn’t the best teacher I ever had, but I thought I got the gist.

She rewarded me with a proud nod, then turned to Zephyro, triumphantly. “There, see? That wasn’t so hard, old man!”

“Your wisdom is an oasis in the vast, vast desert of your courage,” Zephyro said flatly.

“So, how many people do we have that can wield these things?” I asked Kasha.

“About twenty,” she said. “But a lot more militia who sort of have makeshift weapons,” she added hastily when I raised a shocked eyebrow.

“How many?”

“Oh, about two hundred,” she mumbled, and her smile faltered a little. It was easy to see why. The city was gigantic, and there was no way 200 people could defend even a fraction of its walls.

“Do not worry, Sultana,” Zephyro said, probably picking up on my unease. “We have more than enough watchtowers, and their warning will give us more than enough time for the scouts to get where they need to be. They are quick on their feet, you see.”

“What if they attack from several sides at once?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Then we will have to fight them in the streets, Sultana. The closer they come to the Palace, the stronger our resistance will be. However, it will not come to that, inshallah.”

Everything made a lot more sense, now. They knew the city was too big to defend all of it, so they sent the citizens toward the Palace, where the cordon would be a lot smaller and easier to maintain effectively. That was just a backup strategy, though. The main idea was to not let any of the beasts breach the perimeter in the first place, using the scouts as a sort of rapid response squad.

“That plan relies on there being fewer Ferals than scouts, right?” I asked. “What if there’s thousands?”

Both Kasha and Zephyro shook their heads at that. The scout even smirked a little.

“Ferals never band together like that, Sultana, at least not this far south. They are greedy little shits, and would rather devour each other than collaborate. That is, unless pack tactics are the only way to survive,” she said.

“Then why are you so worried?” I asked, returning to the earlier point. “Let me help clean this up, and then we can go to the Palace and do the thing you mentioned.”

“It’s not the Ferals we are worried about, Sultana,” Zephyro said. “It’s what’s made them come here.”