Chapter 2: Terms of Service

Ghelion placed the tray of food on his desk. Spade was hidden behind the newspaper grumbling to himself about the article written about his death. As Ghelion sat down at his desk Spade cursed, folded the paper, and tossed it beside the tray of food.

“Did you read this?” He jabbed the paper with a finger. “The writer said I ‘rode the coattails of the Old Guard to success’.”

“I did, yes.” Ghelion observed his old friend. His clothes were still slightly damp but the rest seemed to have done him well. That old familiar energy coursed through his body and electrified his brown eyes. His dark hair was tied in a knot behind his head and at his hip was an empty sheath where a dagger once rested, probably lost at sea now.

“At least the writer said I was OP,” Spade continued as he poured himself some coffee and munched on a scone. “Which I wasn’t technically at all yet. Guess I never will be now.”

Spade sat back down and washed down the food with sips of coffee, lost in thought.

“You were so exhausted when you arrived to the docks this morning that you couldn’t tell me what happened.”

“You ever swim a couple miles in the middle of the night? I was betrayed, that’s what happened. After a lifetime of service,” Spade’s eyes darkened and had they been outside he might have spat on the ground. “After all those years the guild decided I was better off dead.”

“But why? Last time I saw you the Old Guard and you seemed to be getting along just fine.”

“If you are suggesting I did anything improper you are wrong, Gel. All I know is I got a message about the attempt on my life. So I hied myself as quickly as I could away.”

Ghelion sighed. “And you have no idea why?”

Spade was quiet for a moment. When he met Ghelion’s gaze a dark glint met his stare.

“Oh I think we both know one reason they would have me killed. All those year ago in Darkcradle Castle. Remember, Gel?”

“Enough.” Gelion held up his hands. “Forget I asked. Advisors are not allowed to talk about such things. The actions of players are not our business. We are just here to provide advise.”

“Of course,” said Spade. But a twisted smile was on his lips now. “As for who ordered the hit I have my suspicions. For my money I would say who ever tried to kill me had Solomon’s permission if not his blessing. He always wanted the strongest guild and I was the weakest link. That plus some sensitive information the world isn’t ready to hear about ended with me fighting for my life last night on the deck of a ship.”

Spade absentmindedly reached for his dagger yet his fingers found only an empty sheath. He looked down with disappointment.

“My poor dagger. Whoever tried to take my life got only my dagger instead. I left it in his chest.”

Ghelion shuddered. “Well I am sorry for what happened. I wish I was allowed to help you more but I can only offer advice.”

“Advice and also career changes, in which I am in sore need of.”

“Career change? We just renewed your contract six months ago.”

“And I want to sign a new one.” Spade poured some more coffee and took another scone. Before he sat he poured Ghelion a steaming cup and placed it before him. Ghelion noticed his old friend’s hand shook slightly as he set the cup before him.

“I mean it’s not impossible, Spade.” Ghelion took a sip of the dark brew and sat back. “But what good will a new contract do for you? You will lose all your progress on your current contract.”

The man pulled his sleeve up on his left arm to reveal almost a dozen small tattoos. He looked at them for a moment and sighed deeply.

“These contract marks are more than mere badges to me. They are the story of my life. We spawn into this world with no knowledge of the world which came before. Who we were, what we did, who our family was. This one here I got for mastering the Assassin class, this one for being a master Thief. They tell the tale of who I am, and for a long time the Old Guard was just as much apart of that tale as the jobs. We earned our contract marks together.”

Spade dropped his sleeve and looked at Ghelion again. Determination and apprehension in his eyes.

He said, “that life was over the moment they tried to kill me. I survived but Spade the thief is dead. He needs to stay dead. If that means giving up my powers then so be it.”

“I am not sure I follow,” Said Ghelion. “Give up your powers? How? And if they want you dead how would that help?”

“There is no way for me to fight the Old Guard. You know Solomon. There isn’t a player, NPC, or mob alive which can kill him. If he or any of the others want me dead then that is that. In order to survive I need a new start. A blank slate.”

Realization dawned on Ghelion.

“You want to respawn?”

“Now you get it. I want to sign a contract to restart my character. I want a new name and especially a new face. I know how the contracts work, and I think at this point I have plenty to offer in return.”

“That would be highly irregular.”

“But not impossible.”

Ghelion thought a moment. “What exactly would you be offering in return?”

“Simple,” Spade smiled but there was pain in his eyes. “All my skills, contract powers, and abilities. I would start over as a level nothing. A zero.”

“It’s not enough. First of all I have never heard of this being done. Of course if one of my fellow advisors have done something similar they wouldn’t have told me. I think you are going to have to offer more than your powers,” he added.

Spade drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.

“More than my life’s work,” he mused sarcastically. “What else could there be?”

“What about money?” asked Ghelion.

The thief’s eyes widened and then he laughed aloud.

“Money? Is AION really so strapped for cash? Are you saying that if I can grease that holy palm the contract will go through?”

“Please, Spade.” Gelion felt anger build within his chest. He had known about Spade’s antipathy for AION since the very beginning but it was a subject neither broached very often. Advisors were sworn servants of AION and open blasphemy was the height of impropriety. “If you are looking for AION to help with this a bit of respect will go a long way.”

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“Fine. How much would it take?”

“Obviously all of it. We would need to liquidate every last copper penny. I would need a detailed list of all of your bank accounts and any place where you may have hidden wealth behind. If you want to be a new player,” he added noticing the discouragement in Spades face, “you must truly begin as one. It would not fly if you began as a level zero but with an OP amount of gold, understand?”

“Ok,” Spade said flatly. “All of it. You make me sound like some rich tycoon, though. There’s only the one bank account. My vault is where the real money is hidden. You can’t imagine the things I have stolen over the years. What will happen to it?”

“Same thing that happens whenever a player dies. Their advisor—me, in this case—will go to their bank and distribute the funds according to their final will. Which in your case, “ Gelion removed a document from a folder in front of him, “states that your entire fortune will go to the Old Guard. Including all artifacts magical and normal, your entire enchanted knife collection, that fabulous Blasted Bow you won off Keiren the Mad, of course your estate in the East Hills, and,” he squinted at Spades scribbled handwriting, “your collected works of Das Van Killmeier. Some tomes, I assume?”

Spades faced flushed and he looked at the ceiling. “Um, well, those are novels actually. Romance novels. High brow stuff.” he cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose there is any way I could alter that Will, could I?”

“Not without alerting your old friends that you are still alive. We would have to sign and date a new copy, after all.”

Spade sighed. “Right. Silly to ask. I wish I had updated that a year ago. I must have written that when I was, what, 25?”

“It’s dated 976 so you were around 27.”

“Eight years ago then.” Spade crossed his arms. “Guess there is no helping it. Everything in the Will must be followed. I hope someone enjoys my dagger collection. Samantha has been drooling over my enchanted bow for a decade so I am sure she will be happy. Speaking of my age, is there any way I could respawn a bit younger?”

Ghelion smiled. “Afraid not. 35 isn’t a bad age, though. Just imagine how old I am.”

“True but I am just a human. Not some ageless Angelic automaton.”

Ghelion laughed. “I like that. I will have to tell the other advisors.”

“You can have it. Tell them you came up with it.”

“Well I can’t really say a dead man told me, can I.”

Ghelion took a clean sheet of paper from his desk and plucked a pen from his desk tray.

“Very well, let’s begin writing this, shall we.” He wrote in large letters at the top PLAYER CONTRACT. He mumbled to himself as he wrote, “this contract is a binding…document…stating the player known as Spade the Thief, otherwise known as Spade Nightstalker, otherwise known as Slippery Spade…shall hereby surrender all his levels, contract marks, abilities, powers and wealth in return to begin again as a new player. Upon surrender of said items above, the named shall be allowed to alter their facial features and change their name. All future contracts shall be signed under this new name. Contract marks to be surrendered include:—”

Spade marked off each one of his jobs on his fingers one at a time: “Thief, Thief 2, Assassin, Acrobat, Ninja, Sailor, Spy, Tinkerer…” he cleared his throat and mumbled, “Dancer. And, finally, the one that got away and would have made me officially OP: Fencer.”

Ghelion wrote them down one by one. He recalled each and every contract he had written and each and every job for Spade. In a way, an Advisors achievements were linked to their players achievements. He was fully aware of the struggle which went into each and every contract. He had personally given Spade each contract mark upon his arm upon completion and shared in his journey, even from a distance. Some jobs had come easy, others he had suffered greatly to master. Unlike many Spade had never outright failed a job and required a contract change though Ghelion had advised it in the past. It was true that Spade was not a genius player like many in his guild, the Old Guard. But he had something which rose him high above regular players. He had the most powerful and decorated guild in the land behind him. It was their assistance through training and encouragement which propelled Spade to a place the majority of players would never reach.

“Almost done?” Asked Spade. He poured the last of the coffee equally between their cups. “I’m am quite curious to experience the Spawning process again.”

“We have a couple more items to address first.” Ghelion peered over his writing. “First off, I am afraid I will need your inventory and your journal.”

“Ah…I thought perhaps…my journal.” Spade looked crestfallen. But he held one hand out and after a moment a thin black book appeared out of no where. He placed it on the desk and then plucked a small bag from a shirt pocket and tossed it onto the contract.

“Sorry, Spade.” Said Ghelion as he reached for the journal. “New players don’t have the journals of dead players, after all.”

“What will happen to it?” Asked Spade.

Ghelion sighed. “That is the tricky part. Seeing as you are technically ‘lost at sea’ it would raise too many questions if we did the traditional thing and sent the journal to your guild mates. As it is I cannot keep it myself as you might one day try and steal it back.”

The advisor raised a hand as Spade started to protest.

“The temptation may prove too much, old friend. Who knows what you have written in here which might aid you unfairly? I am afraid that if it is not already living in your head then its got to go. I will have to destroy your journal.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” said Spade. He nonchalantly examined his nails but there was hurt in his voice. “Didn’t write too much in the old thing anyways.”

Ghelion placed the journal in his desk and gently shut the door.

“What’s in your bag? Anything important?” He picked up the bag and looked inside. In was only the size of a purse but when Gelion’s hand neared the opening it grew larger like a frog opening its mouth.

Spade shrugged. “Just the usual. Maybe a thousand gold coins. I have some bread and meat. A few potions I managed to nick from Christie before I left. I was in a hurry and didn’t have much time for shopping.”

“Christie,” said Ghelion, remembering the potion master of the Old Guard. “Was she one of the ones who tried to kill you?”

“I don’t know…maybe. It was Melamy and Redstar who sank my ship. If she was in on it then I hope she was forced too. I can’t imagine her willingly wanting to kill me.”

Melamy and Redstar? That was very unpleasant thought and Ghelion was surprised that Spade was alive. Those two were the some of the strongest mages in the world. Surviving an attack by the pair of them was almost unheard of.

“Why don’t I send your journal to her, then? If you really think she was not in on the plot perhaps you would like her to have it.”

Spade waved his hand. “No. It’s highly likely that the entire guild won’t know you had a meeting with her. If you were her Advisor perhaps it could work. But even if you gave my journal to her Advisor it could cause issues. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “she might actually have the best reason to want to kill me after all.”

“Are you suggesting that an Advisor would betray your trust?”

Spade shrugged. “The only Advisor I know well is sitting right in front of me. Besides…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Spade sat up. “Is that enough? Will the contract work?”

Ghelion looked over the document. “I think it will, but there is only one way to find out. Let me ask you a question before we continue, if I may.”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you sure this is the only way? I know you have a lot of money. You could sneak back to the city, raid your own vault, maybe go to another area and live out your days on a beach in Tangamar, even. The whole world thinks you are dead. It wouldn’t be difficult for a master of stealth like yourself to go undetected indefinitely.”

“Yeah, I have thought about that. A part of me thinks it could work, but the Old Guard has contacts across the entire world. It would take only the smallest of mistakes to reveal myself. But,” Spade leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “the idea of starting over is rather appealing.”

“How so?”

“The chance to start again. Maybe form my own guild. Train the new generation. Choose job classes that I didn’t before. I could be a Knight this time around, or even a Mage of some sort.”

“I didn’t realize those jobs ever appealed to you.”

“I never really had a choice, did I? Solomon made sure I was his perfect cloak and dagger minion.”

“I see,” said Ghelion. “Well, if this is what you want why don’t you look it over and then we can try to sign it.”

He turned the document around and slid it across the desk to Spade. The thief stood up, placed his hands on the desk and read it over. His brow furrowed in concentration. Finally he sat back and laughed.

“Slippery Spade. I must say I will be quite happy to rid myself of that nick name.”

“I can’t remember how you got it—”

“And you don’t want to, trust me.” Spade rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Shall we?”

“We shall try.” Ghelion stood up. “Wait right here, I need to get the instrument.”

Ghelion walked around the desk and entered his room where Spade had been napping. Like all Advisors’ rooms is was a tidy and simple affair. A small bed and a desk with some books. Tucked in the corner by a wardrobe was a box only 12 inches wide. He picked it up and placed it under his arm.

When he returned to Spade he placed the box on the desk before him.

“My favorite part.” Said Spade. Ghelion knew he was trying to sound confident.

“Mine too,” sighed Ghelion not bothering to hide his feelings. He opened the box.

A shining dagger, its hilt inlaid with emeralds and its blade curved into a sharp tip glinted in the light. Ghelion reverently picked up the dagger by the hilt and examined it, turning it this way and that as though inspecting it.

“It’s time to bleed, my old friend.”