You have entered the safe zone of sector 45,104 of the Forever Kingdom, an open sector forming part of the region known as the Coral Islands. It is currently neutral territory, unclaimed by any faction or Force.

Note, a shield generator is in place around the sector, preventing portals from opening anywhere except in the designated teleportation areas.

I stepped out of the gateway, blinking in surprise. The sector welcome message had me confounded.

Sector 45,104 was both unowned and protected by a shield generator? Just like our own sector 18,240? And the region’s name, Coral Islands… it tugged at my memory. I’d heard of it before or of somewhere similar. But where?

Setting aside these troubling questions, I glanced around.

Not unexpectedly, I was on a teleportation platform—just like the one in Nexus. But this one was many times less busy. And no city lay beyond. Instead, I was in what appeared to be a bustling town.

A seaside town.

Lifting my head, I tasted the sea breeze. Wind tugged at my hair and spray brushed my face. The platform must lie right up against the shoreline, I thought. And sure enough, when I glanced around, I spotted waves of dark green, topped by frothing white, crash against the rocky beach.

“Are you quite done taking in the sights, friend?” a bored voice asked.

Turning around, I found a player attired in what looked like a uniform patiently waiting for my attention. “Customs official,” he said, identifying himself before I could ask.

I’d been aware of the player, of course—Texalo was his name—but seeing that I was in a safe zone, I’d not considered him or any of the other nearby players a danger.

Texalo waved his arm in front of my face. “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Finding myself wondering if I was in the right place, I stayed silent.

You have passed a mental resistance check!

Texalo has failed to pierce your disguise.

The custom official sighed. “If you didn’t know, friend, this is where you tell me your name, Class, rank, Force affiliations, and faction.”

“Where am I?” I asked instead.

Texalo rolled his eyes. “The brotherhood port town of Sango.”

“Ah,” I breathed. So, despite the unexpectedness of the surroundings, I was in the right place, after all. Taking a moment to compose my response, I gave the official the answer he sought. “Havick. Rank eighteen scout. Unaffiliated and factionless.”

Texalo quickly scribbled down the information on the board he was carrying. “Good. Are you here to buy or sell?”

I blinked. “Neither.”

He shook his head. “The form only has space for one or the other. Choose.”

“I’m here to buy then, I suppose,” I replied in bemusement.

“Got it. Which merchant do you represent?”

“None.”

Sighing again, the official put down his board. “Look, friend, I’m not sure how you got here or who told you to come here, but Sango doesn’t cater to independents. This town is for bulk trading only.” He threw me a sympathetic look. “None of the brotherhood merchants here are going to sell you—”

“I’m here to see Huntmistress Kartara,” I interjected.

Texalo’s eyes widened fractionally before narrowing again. “The Huntmistress does not see anybody without an appointment.”

“I was invited,” I replied tersely.

Picking up his board again, Texalo scanned it. “I don’t see a Havick listed here.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course, there wouldn’t be. And truly, I had no idea what name Kesh had given the brotherhood during her negotiations. Perhaps you should have asked, eh?

I turned back to the official. “Hmm, maybe it’s better if I speak to someone higher up the food chain?”

Texalo smiled. “Sorry, friend, I’m it. Now, seeing as you don’t have an appointment, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to summon the—”

“Kesh,” I said abruptly.

He blinked. “What?”

“I’m here as a representative of Kesh’s Emporium. If you look, I’m sure you’ll find an appointment listed in the emporium’s name.” I was sure of no such thing, but there was a good chance I’d guessed right. If not, I would have to take more drastic measures to gain the brotherhood’s attention.

Texalo didn’t inspect his board again. Instead, he stared at me in steely assessment. “Are you sure? Because if you’re lying, I warn you the guards will not go lightly on you.”

“I am,” I replied, showing no trace of uncertainty.

Texalo nodded slowly. “On your head be it, then.” Not waiting for my response, he shouted over his shoulder. “Gorn, take over. I’m going to escort this here fellow up to castle. The Huntmistress will want to see him.”

✵ ✵ ✵

You have left a safe zone.

The castle was outside the bounds of the safe zone, and while security in the town was lax, the same could not be said for the fortified structure sitting atop a seaside cliff that served as the brotherhood’s headquarters in this sector.

The castle bristled with towers and ramparts, dozens of guards patrolled the perimeter, and using the sorcerer’s coif, I spied no less than a dozen tier six wards.

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Which left me wondering if there were not even more powerful wards that I could not see.

Still, I did not let the castle’s menacing appearance trouble me. This sector was unowned, and even if the brotherhood meant me harm, they would not be able to keep me trapped in the region.

Texalo drew to a stop before the castle’s barred doors, and following on his heels, I did, too.

“Who’s this?” one of the players on guard demanded. He, too, was in uniform—a simple garb shaded a deep purple. Proudly displayed on his chest was the silver medallion of the brotherhood.

“No idea,” the custom official replied cheerfully. “Calls himself Havick.”

I glanced sideways at the man. He’d said nothing the entire trip, and I’d thought nothing of it. Yet it seemed I’d done something to raise his suspicions.

The guard yawned. “So, why bring him here, Tex?”

Texalo shrugged. “He claims to be from the emporium.”

The guard’s gaze shifted to me. “One of Kesh’s, eh?”

“Not quite,” I replied. “I’m a customer of the emporium. Kesh, at my request, is acting as my intermediary with the brotherhood.”

The guard turned to his partner. “What do you think?”

“He must be the one we were told about,” he replied equably.

The first guard grunted. “Doesn’t look like much.” Not waiting for my response, he turned around and pushed open the door. “Follow me, and no dawdling!”

✵ ✵ ✵

You have entered the dampening field: brotherly shield. This is a tier 6 shield keyed to members of the stygian brotherhood.

You are ability-locked. While ability-locked, you are prevented from casting any psi, mana, or stamina abilities of tier 5 and below.

You are scry-locked. While scry-locked, you are prevented from using any remote observation abilities of tier 5 and below.

Duration: infinite. Both debuffs will remain in effect as long as you are within the confines of the dampening field.

The dampening field came as no surprise.

I’d detected it from outside. And while letting myself be disarmed so left a sour taste in the mouth, I accepted it as the cost of doing business. I, too, would be as wary of any strangers entering the heart of my demesne.

More troubling though, were the eyes I felt upon me, following me every step of the way on my journey through the castle. I was being watched, and the gazes of the watchers did not feel kindly, at all. Ignoring the tingling touch of magic on my skin, the inquisitive mental probes against my mind, and the scrutiny of the guards lining the corridors, I strode nonchalantly behind my escort.

To my surprise, the guard led me not to a receiving room or an audience chamber as I expected, but back out into a courtyard flooded with bright sunlight.

I drew to a halt.

I was in a training yard.

On the hard packed sands ahead, a tall woman was sparring against three others. She wielded two curved stygian swords and was armored in dull purple scale mail—also forged from a stygian composite, I thought. Her long black hair was tied back in a bun, and a trio of silver brotherhood medallions graced each of her gauntlets. Moving lithely between her foes, she dodged their blows while launching her own ripostes.

As I watched, the analyze information of the four combatants slipped into my awareness—analyze was not a psi, mana, or stamina ability and, therefore, was unaffected by the dampening field.

The target is Cait, a level 230 elven nether witch.

The target is Duskar, a level 218 orcish voidknight.

The target is Senzo, a level 219 human spymaster.

The target is Kartara, a level 276 human dread summoner. She bears a Mark of Greater Shadow, Greater Light, and Greater Dark.

My eyebrows rose. The huntmistress was over rank twenty-five and yet possessed no Powerful Initiate Mark. That could only mean she lacked an evolved Class.

Well, that or she was concealing the Mark, and not her level—which would make no sense, at all.

“He’s analyzed us,” the spymaster said, breaking off from the skirmish.

Four pairs of eyes turned my way.

“Has he?” Kartara murmured, sounding not at all put off by that. “Even you?”

Senzo hesitated then gave a clipped nod. “I think so.”

“And what can you tell about him?” the huntmistress asked.

The spymaster’s eyes tightened fractionally as he inspected me.

Senzo has failed to pierce your disguise.

Your deception has reached rank 24.

The spymaster grunted. “Less than Fiona. According to the Game he is a level 187 scout named Havick.”

Fiona? I wondered, keeping my expression studiously neutral in the face of the four’s examination. Who is that?

“Interesting.” Sheathing her blades, the huntmistress strode toward me. “Return to the barracks and await my orders,” she called over her shoulders in what was a clear dismissal of the trio.

“Are you sure?” the orc growled. “We don’t know—”

“I’m sure,” Kartara interjected, not bothering to look back. “Go.”

The three went, leaving me alone with the huntmistress and my escort.

Kartara’s eyes flickered to the guard, and bowing low, he too, retreated from the training yard.

“So,” the huntmistress began when we were finally alone, “you are the one Kesh spoke of.”

There was no hint of a question in her tone. I inclined my head. “I am.”

Tilting her head to the side, Kartara scrutinized me from head to toe. “You are not what I expected,” she murmured.

Neither was she, but I kept that observation to myself.

Summoning a towel from somewhere—a bag of holding most likely—the huntmistress began wiping off the sweat beading down her face. “Walk with me, please,” she said as she did so.

I did as she bade, and we strode through the courtyard. Maintaining my counsel, I waited for the huntmistress to begin, but she, too, remained silent while she gathered her thoughts.

Eventually, realizing Kartara was waiting for me to start, I asked curiously. “Why the training?”

The huntmistress blinked. “Excuse me?”

I gestured to the now empty sparring field. “Why train? The Game will not award you any skill gains from such bouts. So, why bother?”

A smile tugged at Kartara’s lips. “Then it is a good thing I don't have any martial skills.”

My brows crinkled, not understanding.

Seeing my mystified expression, Kartara chuckled. “What I mean to say is I have no Game-gifted skills with either a sword or medium armor.”

I gaped at her. I’d just seen the huntmistress fight, and I could say with certainty she was no novice of the blade. I’d even go so far to say, Kartara was nearly as good as any blademaster I’d encountered. “Then all that—" I waved my hand airily—“is self-taught?”

“Not entirely,” Kartara murmured, her eyes twinkling. “I had some excellent tutors.”

“Damn,” I said, unexpectedly impressed. “How long did it take you to learn to fight like that?”

“Decades,” she replied softly, her amusement fading.

The huntmistress looked not a day older than thirty, but I knew players in the Game aged slowly. That did not lessen her achievement, though. Spending years mastering a single skill… that took real discipline.

Intellectually, I’d always known learning a skill without the aid of the Game was possible, yet I’d always wondered about its practical benefits. “How well do your sword skills perform? In actual combat, I mean.”

Kartara threw me a wry look. “You mean would I have been able to defeat those three in a ‘real’ fight?”

I nodded.

“Not likely,” she replied. “At least, not with my blades alone. In a real fight, Duskar, Cait, and Senzo would use their abilities.” She paused. “But then so would I, and then it wouldn’t be a simple swordfight anymore.”

“I see.”

“That does not make my sword skills superfluous, though. In a pinch, I can use it to surprise my foes.” She eyed me thoughtfully. “And as I’m sure you know, sometimes surprise alone can carry a battle.”

“That it can,” I murmured. Whatever else the huntmistress was, she was clearly a dangerous player, and not just because of her Game-granted abilities. My initial impression was that Kartara was not only a student of war, but someone who honed her skills incessantly.

She’s definitely someone I want on my side.