In the previous episode...
1.1.7 An Extreme Response
With help from Fra Gamal and House Landi, Lelio sends the player killers (PKers) from The Brute Squad back to respawn but they flee Cov’s Sanctum and Massimo (a journeyman priest of Cov working for Isabella) triggers a special in-game event, challenging all players in the Torello region to help recapture the fugitives. Seizing the moment, Alderney uses the resulting publicity to launch The Burrow, creating a race to recover the Bone Sword and retrieve Kafana’s spirit from it, before the 24 hour deadline expires.
The bad guys are defeated, much to the displeasure of their sadistic guild leader Malzeth (who in arlife turns out to be none other than Ludwig Spreckels, heir-in-waiting to one of the six most power dynasties on Earth). Ludwig’s interest in Soul Bound seems to be more than just a hobby - he’s been experimenting with XperiSense’s newest generation of tiara technology, and has been using it to control victims from the Colosseum (a private gladiatorial facility being run in a remote corner of Siberia). This does not bode well for Tlaloc (a guild member who has been discovered leaking information to Bulgaria).
Worried that Kafana might also face attacks in arlife, Alderney recruits seven of the inhabitants of the village where Kafana lives, to protect her privacy and help hide her. They adopt cover names from Snow White, and call themselves the DDF (for Dwarven Defence Force): Happy (Harun), Grumpy (Tarik), Sleepy (Tarik), Doc (David), Sneezy (Jasic), Bashful (Muhamed) and Dopey (Vedad). Two other regulars, Cosic and Bahrudin, missed out.
Inspired by Alderney, Kafana starts to explore the potential of Minon (the expert system that Wellington created for her tiara), creating a new system loyal to herself which she names Balthazar and gives the task of building a room in The Burrow - one that takes the techniques the game uses to make time appear to run faster, and applies them to the problem of getting a full night’s worth of rest in just a few hours. Balthazar goes beyond merely succeeding, to create a virtual home for Kafana, themed around the tale of Snow White - her Bier.
He’s not the only expert system surprising people. In the game, Ruffiana reveals that some magics have a maledic path, the deities reveal which actions they each consider forbidden, and Vittoria saves Lelio’s life (but at the cost of using maledic healing which incurs the wrath of Mor because it breaks an agreement she signed when accepting her position as head of Cov’s orphanage). Even the expert system running the game’s user interface (which Kafana addresses as “Sys”) has a surprise, when she treats Kafana not just as a user but as a friend.
The biggest surprise though, comes when Kafana achieves 100% attunement with the expert system acting as her vessel, and the two form a temporary gestalt identity with greater confidence and charismatic presence than either of the two alone. This Kafana rejects the advice of her friends (and the many NPCs and players who have gathered to help free her from the sword, such as Kino and Mycroft) because she will not use the Bone Sword to enslave another, even a wretch like Kullervo, nor let one of her friends be stained by doing it on Kafana’s behalf.
Instead she enlists the help of Metathiaxioniel (the minor devil bound to the sword) in making a wager with Salma, princess of the Inferno: Kafana will travel to that fiery plane to put on a concert. If Kafana is acknowledged as a true bard, then all debts are forgiven and Kafana will be freed to respawn back at Torello. If not, then Salma gains not just one soul (that of Kafana) but three (those of her vessel and of Metathiaxioniel). As with all such bargains, there’s a catch, and in this case the catch is a big one - Princess Salma will be the sole arbiter of whether Kafana’s playing is good enough, and she is not required to be fair in her judgement.
...now read on!
1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.1 An Icy Welcome
1.2.1.1 Inferno
She was glad of her preparations. After Metathiaxioniel had warned her about the environment, she’d taken the time not only to use Aegunda's ruby to play around with a candle flame, to get the hang of fire shaping, but also to customise a buff about walking through fire, able to see and breathe freely. Fire might be her friend now, but she didn’t want to rely upon that.
She arrived near the top of a volcano. Lava wasn’t so much erupting from it, as spilling out in fast flowing rivers. The air felt scorched and full of sulphurous gases, the heat shimmering against her skin. She wondered what it would feel like without her buff, but didn’t wish to find out. She’d set her buffs to have a long enough duration to last until dawn, not sure if she’d have mana to spare or even be able to cast at all once here, but just in case the time flowed at a different rate here, she asked Sys to remind her when to maintain them.
Metathiaxioniel now had a physical form. He looked nervous. He brushed cinders off his coat.
Metathiaxioniel: “Welcome to the Inferno, the Abyssal Realm of Fire, the only truly civilised place in all the worlds. In Nahas, the eternal City of Brass, there’s little fighting or even impoliteness, and we have an exacting court system and scrupulous police.”
Kafana: “Sounds wonderful. What does that actually mean in practice?”
Metathiaxioniel chuckled: “It means that if you insult anybody or accidentally bump into them, you’ll find yourself being sued. Even littering the pavement can result in you losing half your worldly belongings. And being a guest does not relieve you of a duty to obey the law.”
She gulped. Her propensity to swear when annoyed had always seemed just a colourful habit to her, something that let her make use of her languages and show she’d travelled. Now it could get her into serious trouble, and she wasn’t sure she was self-aware enough to suppress it if startled.
The rivers of lava split and split again, forming a web of obsidian banked streams, crossed by narrow bridges without railings or any other barriers on the sides. About halfway down the slope a polished obsidian wall inscribed with letters of fire in a script she didn’t recognise encircled a city of strange wrongness. Brass domed buildings had doors at ground level, but often also entrances half-way up the dome. Nine layered minarets ended in snake-like jaws that swivelled and directed a screeching like scraped metal at distant flying creatures that circled half-seen in the clouds of ash that obscured the lambent skies.
Metathiaxioniel led her down a narrow path, carefully picking which of the many bridges to cross. She concentrated upon her diadem, and willed it to reveal deceits to her. It would now glow red if she lied, but it was worth the trade off. Most of the bridges wavered in her sight, revealing their central spans to be missing.
Kafana: “I get the impression that I won’t last 5 minutes in Nahas, if I have to interact socially with people, giving them the chance to lay social traps for me, where I either insult them by doubting them or end up having to do something foolish. Is there any way we can skip straight to the part where I sing for them?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Metathiaxioniel looked thoughtful: “Normally a visitor from a different Abyssal Realm would be expected to greet all those of their own rank or higher by their correct title and in the correct manner, exchanging appropriate gifts, etc. Skipping such formalities, incorrectly identifying someone’s rank or giving a gift of too little worth would be seen as impolite.”
Kafana: “What do you suggest? I can truthfully claim that I have been addressed as a Queen in the past. Would that out-rank a Princess, and let me off all those obligations? Alternatively, can we argue that those protocols only apply to visitors from Abyssal Realms, and as a representative of Cov, bearing the blessings of Krev, I’m from a Celestial Realm and a different protocol applies? Or perhaps that, being a Bard, I’m outside protocols entirely, being covered by a more ancient tradition, and until they resolve the question of whether I am entitled to Bardic status they must err on the side of caution or risk Rac casting a curse upon them for breaking his taboo?”
Metathiaxioniel: “Queen of what?”
She blushed, but answered steadily, the Stone of Truth remaining green as she said: “The Queen of Song.”
Metathiaxioniel: “Could work, could work. We could combine all three approaches. If I announce you as the Queen of Song, you might have to prove that not only are you a Bard, but that you’re better than any Bard they have. It raises the stakes. Are you sure you want to try? I think I could get you into the presence of Princess Salma via the normal route, with only a few limbs missing, and they regrow in time. Depending on who is on duty at the palace, and whether we can avoid meeting any of the Succubi or Amnizus I owe debts to, who might claim parts of you in lieu.”
Kafana raised a hand: “Curious here. What did you do to get into debt with a Succubi?”
Metathiaxioniel hung his head: “What can I say? I was playing Alttaru with Baroness Jalada. I thought my chances of drawing the card I needed to complete my hand were good and I bet heavily. It turns out she’s a mean player. She whipped me right out of the room.”
Kafana: “I think we go with introducing me as a Queen, but let’s soften it if we can. I may not be required to be courteous to those I out-rank, but it isn’t forbidden, right? Tell me about the ranks here and the way to address them.”
Metathiaxioniel: “At the bottom are the spawn, like imps and lemure. You can safely ignore them. Everybody else does. They are innumerable, and someone like Jalada would happily throw a thousand of them into a river of fire to make a bridge to walk over, rather than walk an extra kilometer, if it suited her mood.”
Metathiaxioniel: “Next up are the Legion, spawn who have accumulated enough worth to metamorphose into the brutish Milites we use as soldiers and burden carriers, Barbazu the size of oxen, strong but lumbering.”
Metathiaxioniel: “Above the Legion are the Lesser Devils, who have been Knighted. We’re a bit more specialised. Some, like the Kyton, are fast and smart. Some, like the Orthon, are strong and fast. Some, like the Erinyes, are smart and magical. And of course you get higher forms who’ve been demoted for falling into debt and sent back to the army. They tend to get used as shock troops, eager to either die or win enough glory to regain their previous status.”
Metathiaxioniel: “Above us you get the aristocracy, the true devils, who make up most of the city’s population. There are hundreds of types of Baron, covering everything from the Amnizus bureaucrats to the Alsabaj police. Nasty bastards, most of them, always looking for an edge. Petty, opportunistic and ambitious.”
Metathiaxioniel: “Above them are the Greater Devils. They’ve proven their ability to carry out long term plans and survive the plots of others. Strong, smart, fast and powerful magicians. These are the ones who travel to other realms, plot the downfall of nations, shape people into tools and then train them into roles. You address them as ‘Count’, and avoid them if you can. They are not petty; they can be suave and charming, but that doesn’t make them less dangerous to you.”
Metathiaxioniel: “Above them are the Dukes. You can’t mistake them because they’re all Pit Fiends the size of houses, with wings as black as night, and breath that can melt stone. At least we think that’s the only type. There are rumours. Anyway, nobody argues with a Pit Fiend. You owe them what they tell you that you owe them. We don’t really know what they do or what their responsibilities are. And they certainly don’t explain anything to the likes of me. For all I know, the only reason nobody has seen one outside the Inferno is because they have other forms or perfect stealth of something. They could even be ancient dragons. They certainly fight like them.”
Metathiaxioniel: “Above them are the Arch Dukes. No Pit Fiend has metamorphosed into an Arch Duke in aeons. There’s a strictly limited number of them, and their job appears to be sucking up to the Princess, rubbing her feet and throwing cloaks over puddles for her. Which can’t possibly be the case. Prancing dandies completely dominating the Pit Fiends through aesthetic taste displayed by polite handling of elegantly presented wagers? They’ve obviously got epic-level mind magic and are engaged in titanic informational warfare on another dimension we can’t even sense. Or they’re a practical joke by the Princess of Illusions, and don’t actually exist.”
Metathiaxioniel muttered something rude under his breath, getting it out of his system before they entered the city.
Kafana: “Sounds way too complex for me. We definitely try to stage it so I just sing. What about the Princess? What does she look like?”
Metathiaxioniel: “You’re standing on her.”
Kafana: “What?”
Metathiaxioniel: “Or, at least, that’s what legend says. She’s a fire elemental. She looks like whatever she wants to look like. But, so the story goes, she started off as the volcano and gradually gained sentience when the world was young. That’s why she doesn’t travel. She can’t.”
After that, there wasn’t much to say. Metathiaxioniel recruited the first Orthons they met brandishing the authority from his summons as though he were on a mission granted personally by Salma. Some he sent into the city to have announcements made of the grand concert. The rest he took around to the vast parade ground on the slope below the city which sheltered it from the streams of lava. She picked a review stand that looked to have reasonable acoustics and her physical body set up amplification charms while her ghostly body experimented with stage effects. Despite the setting, the pre-concert routine soothed her. She could do this. A few pretty tunes to prove she was a Bard, and then back to Covob. No problem.
Floods of devils poured out of the city and formed ranks before her. Spawn directly below her stage where the view was bad, squashed together like sardines in a mosh pit. Regiments of Milites led by Knights lining the far edges, like a defensive perimeter. In the very center rose a towering Pit Fiend, motionless as though standing on a boat and afraid that even a slight sideways motion would tip everything over. Filling most of the rest of the parade ground were chattering groups of Barons, looking to be entertained. Possibly by listening to her sing, but more likely by watching her fail and by scoring points over their peers through witty mockery falling just a shade short of insult.
In the spots with the best view of her were the Ifrit, each surrounded by a coterie of Counts. They’d made an impromptu competition out of who could make the most excessive entrance. Gujiq, Arch Duke Jalid rode in on a sled pulled by Barbazu, the ground before them turned to ice by a pair of Ice Devils. Damiq, Arch Duke Easifa, flew in upon an enchanted carpet. Vadiq, Arch Duke Bariq charged in at the head of a column of monstrous cavalry, neatly furthering his plans by ‘accidently’ trampling certain Amnizus that were strategically vital to one of his opponents. She couldn’t keep track of their names, and hoped it wouldn’t matter.
There was no sign of the Princess, but the audience would soon get restless. She’d better get started. As an afterthought, she leaned over to Metathiaxioniel, away from the pick-up range of her amplification spells and asked him a question:
Kafana: “By the way, what sort of music do devils like?”
Metathiaxioniel groaned, and sunk his head in despair. “I thought you knew! I thought you had a plan! Devils hate music. We can’t stand things that bring hope and pleasure and understanding. We’re all about the pain.”