image [https://i.imgur.com/yBDjAfz.jpg]

The public discussion about my powers made me think that Uproar wouldn’t make a play for me unless I stood in a vulnerable position, and it wasn’t much of a comfort.

No one openly answered Uproar’s plea for aid. Hawkhurst’s rustic setting ensured no mailboxes stood beyond our walls—so he couldn’t receive private communications. It made me feel confident that I only faced one player.

The situation would have been different had I placed the mailbox between the roundhouses or anywhere else beyond the castle walls. I’d located our mailbox by the manor out of convenience. Sieges were the last thing on my mind.

When Ida spotted me going to the great hall for breakfast, her casual mention of Fabulosa’s letter dispelled my hunger.

I ran to the mailbox to retrieve it.

From Fabulosa, sent 11 hours ago in Mains Postal Box #1

To Apache, received 0 days ago in Hawkhurst Postal Box #1

Subject Greetings from Transylvania

It sounds like y’all are in the thick of it. I’m sorry to hear about Greenie, Fletcher, Sami, Jahid, and Val. I hope Iris, Lloyd, and the baby are doing okay. Please convey my sympathies.

I miss fighting living things. I’ve seen neither hide nor hair about Darkstep aside from rumors. There’s a lot of fog-of-war with the group chat, so take everything with a grain of salt.

Fab

It was great to hear from her, but she was so far away that she couldn’t help fight the orcs.

I wrote back, catching her up on tricking Uproar to send the emperor after my sword. I told her about the emperor’s army, his bugbears, and siege machines and explained how I played Uproar by linking details about the new sword I made from the Artilith.

I didn’t give her information about Gladius, even though it didn’t seem to be a risk until the endgame. Digging beneath her feet would hamper her effectiveness with the Phantom Blade. I wanted to make her jealous, and she’d see its details the next time we met, but there wasn’t a reason to let her prepare for it.

I asked Fabulosa which primal spells the emperor might use, and her reply arrived after breakfast.

From Fabulosa, sent 44 minutes ago in Mains Postal Box #1

To Apache, received 0 days ago in Hawkhurst Postal Box #1

Subject Schools of Magic

I recognize the name Lady Havoc. She was one of the stealthers in Malibar. She’s weak. Uproar is only using her as a meat shield.

I fought a lot of bugbears. I had to waste my basilisk egg to shake a tribe of them coming after me. They’ve got a bloodhound’s nose, that’s for sure.

Regarding primal magic—I haven’t seen an area-of-effect spell in my menu. It makes sense. Players can exploit AOEs. Even Chain Lightning uses targets. AOEs affect the environment, so they fall under the school of nature magic. Isn’t that how Moonburn works?

I think we’re the only ones avoiding dark magic. Do you reckon that’s a mistake? From stealthing to illusions and necromancy, that’s what we’re facing. My willpower isn’t as high as yours, so my only worry involves illusions and mind control.

Speaking of dark magic, I made friends with one of those creepy artisanal zombies Maggie told us about. I found it in a crypt, and it started following me around. He’s like a pet that I don’t have to feed. He doesn’t fight but obeys simple commands. Weird, huh?

I’m thinking of going west again, all the way to Heaven’s Falls. It’s something I’d like to see. Wanna come with me?

Best, Fab

The orcs worked on several projects. The first involved a trebuchet, which they finished in only a few days. We enjoyed watching their unsuccessful attempts to quarry stone from the westernmost edge of Hawkhurst Rock. A certain schadenfreude made their struggles hilarious, and the dwarves shouted jeers while the orcs worked. The town, bored with waiting, enjoyed the diversion.

We watched them from the parapets, inside the wooden hoardings that sheltered us from elements and arrows. Though outnumbered, we felt more secure than our enemy, toiling below on foreign ground.

They worked so hard that they didn’t bother touching the town’s structures, aside from sweeping them for spies and saboteurs.

The teasing ceased when teams of orcs carried stones from upriver to the trebuchet. A hush fell across both sides as engineers weighed the stones before loading the payload into its sling.

The smoothed boulder flew short of its mark when they launched it, rebounding harmlessly into the flooded moat. Orcs made adjustments to their machine before launching a second.

Since the trebuchet team worked 300 yards away, well outside our range, we could only watch them adjust the counterweight and hoist another round of ammo. They aimed at the western wall midway between towers. I know this because they struck their target.

When the projectile landed, neither side cheered when a progress bar appeared over the wall. It looked like a health meter from a nameplate, and its structural integrity lowered by 3 to 1,497 points. The orcs expected much more damage—we hoped for less.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Angus broke the silence. “This bodes ill for us. Even a wee drip can draught a keg.”

Fin turned to Yula. “Will they pound their attack drums at night like the goblins?”

Yula shook her head without tearing her eyes from the construction sites, a gesture echoed by several Fort Krek soldiers.

Fin asked another curious question. “What time would ye say is a likely hour of attack?”

Yula squinted at the question. “Dawn. Eet gives whole day for battle. Feast by bonfire at night.”

The discussion annoyed Angus, and he turned to Fin. “How does it make one nugget of difference when they pooch the castle? Ye hoping to get a good kip in before things get mental?”

Fin flapped his hand at Angus and stalked off the parapet to sulk.

Fifteen minutes later, the orcs weighed, chiseled, and loaded another rock into the trebuchet. It landed in the same section. The wall’s structural points dropped to 1,495. I tried using Mineral Mutation to change the projectiles to cotton, but their mass proved too much for the game’s targeting reticule to affect them. Unfortunately, the magic changed minerals to things other than minerals, so I couldn’t change our walls to diamond or steel.

Looking through the Eagle Eyes, I studied the trebuchet. The contraption rolled on wheels across a wooden track. “Yula, are those for mobility? Is that to protect them from Glowing Coals?”

The orc slowly shook her head. “Trebuchet on wheels has greater power.”

I grunted. “Well, it also protects it from Glowing Coals. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t see how I could get within 30 yards.”

“Zey are at maximum range. Eet will take many days to destroy wall. Zey will heet us with towers when eet falls.” Yula pointed to construction projects in the distance.

Other undertakings included two siege towers with gravel roads leading to different wall sections. Half of the orcs hauled baskets of gravel from faraway mountain streams to make the path. Their slow progress matched the incremental progress made by the trebuchet. The rock road solved issues with both mud and Glowing Coals. Like the trebuchet, they’d built the siege towers on long straight logs like rolling pins. They designed the siege towers for heavy-duty action.

We might repel a single breach, but the emperor worked in redundancy. “What are they building in that big tent?” I pointed to a canvas long enough to house a circus.

Yula shook her head and frowned. “Eet ees too small for siege tower. Too beeg for housing.”

“Is there a war machine that can’t be built in the rain?”

The orc commander shook her head again. “I have seen zees before. Eet ees great sack of hot air. Eet carries powder zat burn eyes.”

Angus spat on the ground. “Quicklime. ‘Tis the basest way to kill a foe. The kindest thing it does is blind ye. It’ll swelter your skin right off. Not even deep elves use it.”

I exhaled heavily at the news. I expected us to repel one breach, but two siege towers and a wall collapse seemed the least of our worries. The orcs planned for a hot-air balloon loaded with chemical weapons. “Will the ballistas take care of them?”

Angus answered before Yula. “They need only rise high enough to avoid our fire. Ye can see by the design—ballistas shoot for distance, not height.”

“Can we modify it?”

“Not without Greenie.”

Yula arched her arm upward. “Zey go at great height before attack.”

Of course, the balloons would be too high. They wouldn’t bother making them if opponents could shoot them down with ballista bolts or arrows. The Boulder Bullets wouldn’t be a factor against them, either.

Beaker wouldn’t be a help. The orcs knew we had a pet griffon circling overhead. They wouldn’t go through all the trouble of launching an attack zeppelin if one noisy griffon could undo their effort. Only a tiny amount of damage dispelled my Familiar. I couldn’t count on him to foil a chemical attack. If the orcs trained wyverns, attack bats, or flying Familiars of their own, it would do us little good to send him after the balloon.

As the days passed, the orcs built their towers and roads. The tower’s upper platform reached enough to span our moat and connect to the parapets.

Unfortunately, the mud stopped at Hawkhurst Rock, so the enemy lost no troops constructing the path. Mineral Mutation wouldn’t stop them. I couldn’t transform enough of the rock surface to impede the imminent invasion. Even if I undermined enough area, they could steer the towers toward another section of wall.

Maybe baiting an emperor had bitten off more than I could chew.

I wrote another letter to Fabulosa outlining the enemy’s strategy of dumping quicklime on us before making three breaches. I could only be in one place at a time and didn’t see how we could avoid being swamped by their superior numbers.

From Fabulosa, sent 3 hours ago in Mains Postal Box #1

To Apache, received 0 days ago in Hawkhurst Postal Box #1

Subject I left you a surprise!

How often do players get to place Easter eggs in a game?

You’ll find a little care package if you go to my old apartment and pry out the floorboard in the southwest corner. I hid it after our trip to Fort Krek but forgot to take it when I lit out for the north.

It’s not much, but it could help your situation. Close all the windows before opening it—just in case.

Good luck, Your Sneaky Little Partner

I reread the message, hoping to glean a clue to what surprise lay in wait. Our trip to Fort Krek included a side trip to Malibar. Fabulosa and I had taken separate carriages the first day, and she claimed not to have found any magic items. Had that been a lie?

Excited at the prospect of a mystery gift, I went to Fabulosa’s old room and knocked on the door. Ida, its current occupant, answered. “Ida, can I check something out in your room?”

“My room?” She stepped aside as I entered.

I moved aside bedrolls and mattresses people used for a makeshift flophouse, temporary lodging while the enemy held the town. I shuttered the windows and pushed aside the bedding.

“What’s the meaning of this?” My haste to access her quarters brought out the worst in her—the old Ida who spotted a con or insult with my every gesture.

Closing her shutters antagonized Beaker. Preventing him from roosting on the windowsill drove him crazy—whether from curiosity or the injustice of being forbidden to visit Fabulosa’s old room, I couldn’t say. I only wanted to play it safe and cut out variables for whatever surprise my old partner had in store.

Beaker screamed at me from outside, mirroring Ida’s mood.

I unsummoned Beaker rather than put up with the indignation. “I’m sorry, pal. It’s just a precaution.” I flipped blankets and mattress set on the floor, feeling for the hidden cache.

“A precaution?” Ida stood with hands on her hips while I felt along the floorboards. “I don’t see the sense of tearing apart my room. Do it in yours if you’re so inclined to disassemble the building.”

“Fabulosa said she hid something in her old apartment. That’s here.”

“If it’s gold, it belongs to the settlement. You’ve barely worked off 6 percent of the manor—and I’m using the word ‘work’ in the broadest definition.”

“It’s not gold. Fab said it would protect us.” I cast Detect Magic and found nothing in the southwest corner that glowed.

Ida picked up on my consternation. “What’s wrong now?”

I felt around the floor for anything loose, trying my best to ignore Ida. “It’s not glowing, so it’s not magic. It’s going to be tricky to find.”

“Is it alive? I hope she hasn’t been keeping rats under my floorboards.”

“I don’t know. But it’s something to help us.”

“So why do we need to close the windows? Is it explosive? I’ve bought my clothes with my own money. If you set fire to them, repayment should come from your pocket, not the settlement’s. It’s hard enough balancing the books without mixing funds.”

“Nothing is going to explode. At least, I hope it won’t.”

“If it’s a monster, please deal with it immediately. I’ll not have creepy crawlies mucking about my belongings.”

My fingers finally identified the loose floorboards. I lifted it, revealing a long canvas roll labeled with a crude letter Z written in chalk. When I lifted the package, it slipped from my hands, tumbled across the floor, and stuck to the wall.

I rolled away at the sudden movement.

Ida just as well. She fled, arms in the air, shrieking. “Bats! I knew it! There are bats in my room!”

I shielded my face, but the bundle remained fixed. Using Move Object, I plucked it from a safe distance and guided it into my grasp. Nothing inside the bag moved, but it gently pulled away from me.

I unwrapped the bundle and laughed. “Oh, Fab. You are a sneaky little partner.”