Fateseal Read online

  FATESEAL

  BONNIE L. PRICE

  © 2018 Bonnie L. Price

  https://bonnielprice.com

  Illustration © 2018 Thander Lin [Las-T]

  http://las-t.deviantart.com

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

  [email protected]

  Editing

  K.T. Hanna & Ivy Sherrard

  First Edition

  ISBNs

  E-Book: 978-0-9992067-8-2

  Paperback: 978-0-9992067-6-8

  Hardback: 978-0-9992067-7-5

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  For my best friend, Nick, who has always encouraged me to live a better life and reach for my dreams.

  Chapter One

  Demo

  Iris leaned against the wall, watching me with narrowed eyes.

  My stomach lurched as I set my empty glass on the table. I picked up the visor and stared at it for a moment. Usually, I’d be giddy with excitement over a new game, but I just couldn’t shake my unease. Meeting with Iris hadn’t helped at all. In fact, it had made things worse.

  I laid back on the sofa and lifted the visor, resolving to at least play the demo. It was entirely possible that I was just being stubborn because I had been enjoying Ebonwing’s months of dominance in Bengllor Online so much.

  “Three hours?” I asked to clarify.

  She nodded. “I’ll be back after you’re finished with the demo.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured as Iris left the room. The moment she was gone, I pressed the button on the side of the visor.

  The world around me went dark and silent before greeting me with a spacescape. The words Jeriskyr Online hung over the closest planet to me, rays of sunlight filtering through the forged silver lettering. I made a motion with my hand and the scene faded to a fancy character selection screen, showing a near-perfect replica of myself leaning against the base of an old oak tree.

  I examined the character summary and icon, finding no obvious way to select or change the character’s class or review its abilities. Oh well, it was just a demo anyway. I could change it to something stabby or slashy later—assuming I passed their ‘can you stomach killing shit?’ test.

  After staring at my clone for what could have been several minutes, I released a mental sigh and reached for the start ‘button.’

  It was too late to back out, after all.

  I woke up in a crude barracks and took stock of my surroundings before moving to get off the bed. The room was small and didn’t appear to contain anyone or anything aside from me, a single bed, and a chest of drawers. I clenched and unclenched my fist a few times before stretching tentatively.

  When my spine popped in several places, I stopped. That was unnerving. Why the developers wanted to present such realistic scenarios and sensations was beyond me. Glancing down at my hands and clothes, I realized my surroundings weren’t the only things that looked real.

  Were the developers trying to show off?

  The window nearby was ajar, allowing a temperate breeze to drift in from outside. It looked to be morning. The faint silhouette of a moon hung low and large on the distant horizon. A city stretched for miles around me, shifting to farmland toward the rolling hills in the direction of the moon. Below my room, armored soldiers had begun their morning drills.

  I frowned, staring out the window at the nearby buildings. The architecture looked European, perhaps from the Mediterranean countries, but I couldn’t quite get a handle on the time period. Inside, my room was incredibly plain.

  Most fantasy genre games I had played focused on some kind of equivalent to the Dark Ages, but a quick look around showed hints of at least some forms of other technologies. If I had to hazard a guess, magitech came to mind.

  After confirming that I was dressed, I strode out of my room and looked down the hallway beyond in both directions. Stairs heading up at one end, stairs going down at the other—and a very grumpy middle-aged man stalking toward me in chain mail. Lovely.

  “Yer late, Otherworlder,” the man snapped. “Get down to the yard!”

  “Late for…what, exactly?” I crossed my arms.

  “Are ya daft?” He leaned over me and squinted. “Ya got ta go through the same tests as anyone else, lassie. If ya don’t go now, you’ll be waitin’ ‘til tomorrow!”

  “Fine, fine, I’m going,” I shrugged, putting my hands in my pockets. I had to wonder how much of a penalty there was for attacking an NPC. I hadn’t thought I’d find one I wanted to punch in the face so soon.

  I mulled over the NPC’s greeting as I made my way downstairs. ‘Otherworlder.’ Most games had the player storyline set up in such a way that they originated from the same world they were playing in. However, that one word implied that this was not the case in Jeriskyr Online.

  Pursing my lips, I called up the game’s UI as I lined up with the rest of the ‘recruits.’ Sixty percent NPCs, forty percent players, one hundred percent humans. Each player was the same as me, LV0. However, that was not the case for the NPCs. Some of them were as high as LV20, meaning that, at worst, they had one skill level in twenty separate skills.

  I searched my surroundings, confirming that every recruit, soldier, and servant in my line of sight was human. None of the trainees appeared to have a total level above fifty. Even the prisoners lined up for execution were human. Supposedly, elves were also part of the Issradian faction, but I didn’t see any.

  “Outta the way!” one of the players yelled, pushing the NPCs aside. Despite his hurry to get to the front, he hesitated when he took the executioner’s axe. The player raised the axe with some difficulty, his poor grip on the shaft making him teeter in place. When he swung down there wasn’t enough force, and the blade sunk into the prisoner’s back instead of slicing through his neck.

  Blood sprayed from the prisoner’s back, a scream of agony leaving him. The player’s eyes widened in horror. He dropped the axe before doubling over, retching. Vomit spilled from his mouth as he ran through the throngs of soldiers and waiting players.

  I cursed and stalked forward, hefting the fallen axe off the ground. Gripping it in both hands, I adjusted my stance briefly before swin
ging the blade down onto the prisoner’s neck. There was a sickening squelch, a crunch, and the screaming stopped.

  «Demo_01 has successfully completed the ‘It Comes to a Head’ quest»

  Are you fucking kidding me? I bit back a groan. What is it with game developers and their need to make terrible jokes?!

  “Huh, well, would ya look at that,” the executioner muttered as I held the axe out to him. “Guess you pass. The boss’ll want to have a word with you about your options for serving the Issradian Empire.”

  The sensation of killing a person was indescribable, but I had been forced to do it once before in real life. A game had never been able to replicate that same feeling…until now. I kept my thoughts to myself and strode off in the direction the executioner had indicated.

  “Guess you’re nastier than ya look,” the middle-aged man from before remarked, greeting me at the door of the large building. “Ya should really consider getting that name changed though, lassie.”

  “…I’m considering it,” I answered dryly.

  “Ya should do more than ‘consider’ it!” He released a hearty laugh and motioned for me to follow him. “We’ve not got much work for recruits ‘round here but there’s plenty to be done in the city proper. Never enough hands to cover all the problems and all that.”

  I glanced over the man’s head and then at the other people working in the building. Again, majority NPCs. No quest icons or anything of the sort. The number of people on the Jeriskyr Online forums suggested that there were a lot of alpha testers and that most of them had rolled the Issradian faction. Where was everyone?

  Instanced starting zone, maybe? Though companies hadn’t resorted to that for a long time.

  “We’ve got hunting jobs outside Darmos, guard jobs within it,” the man continued, rifling through a stack of posters. “The brothels have been looking for bouncers due to all the riffraff—and demons’ve been tryin’ ta break in, from what I hear.”

  Darmos…I guess that’s what the city is called. Nothing about picking specializations? Just straight to jobs? I wondered, tilting my head as I considered the options he’d listed for me. “What kind of brothels are we talking about, exactly?”

  “What kind?” the man echoed, baffled, before grinning. “We’ve got plenty of ‘em here, so whichever suits yer fancy.”

  “Not quite what I meant…” I sighed, thinking on it. “Fine, fine. Are any of the ones with male ‘workers’ in need of bouncers?”

  “Aye, most of ‘em are.” The man grinned more broadly and handed me at least fifteen posters. “Demons’re intent on bringin’ back their captured men an’ women. Easier for ‘em to target the places we hold the men, though. Their whores are under tighter guard.”

  That statement irritated me. It implied the workers weren’t willing participants. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised, given the apparent time period and what little I knew of the storyline. The humans and demons hated each other. If that was the situation in the Issradian Empire, then it seemed likely the reverse was the case in demon lands.

  I kept my expression neutral and flipped through the posters. According to the game’s interface, each of the brothels was run by players and specifically wanted players as guards. Not NPCs. Near as I could tell, the brothels had already reached the maximum number of NPC guards they could have.

  “I’d recommend this one, personally,” the man stated, tugging the edge of one of the posters. “Better part o’ town and closer to the nearest guard station if ye find yerself needing backup. Otherworlders have been causing problems ‘round the brothels on top o’ the demon mess. Other ones, ya’d be on yer own.”

  “Fine, I’ll take that one then,” I murmured, handing the rest of the posters back to him. He rummaged around in a nearby drawer before finally withdrawing a scroll and offering it to me. When I unrolled it, I found a map of the city and its immediate surroundings. “Thanks.”

  I left the building and quickly made my way to the nearest road. Once there, I confirmed that my UI did not have a map, or even a mini-map. I had to rely on the one the man had given me the same way I would have in real life. In fact, the UI could only be described as bare-bones.

  It told me player and NPC names, their overall character levels, and let me access my own character information. However, there were no obvious innate stats for myself or for the clothing I wore. All it told me were my skill levels—most of which appeared to be locked due to not interacting with the appropriate trainer NPCs.

  “You!” a voice exclaimed.

  Looking up, I found a crowd of players rushing toward me.

  “JOIN OUR GUILD!” they all started yelling over each other.

  “…you do realize I’m playing a demo character, right?” I questioned, tilting my head. That didn’t do anything, so I decided to push it a little further. “Did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, I’m part of the dev team?”

  “Er…” One of the males paused and leaned down to look at me. “I mean, I guess you could be, or you could’ve just named yourself something stupid because it’s alpha.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” I snorted, brushing past them.

  It wasn’t entirely untrue—after all, the demo was limited, and I couldn’t get a firm grasp on the passage of time. My UI didn’t appear to have a real-world clock on it—or if it did, it was buried more deeply than I had time to scour. If I really wanted to get a handle on the game, I’d need to explore as much as I could, as fast as I could.

  Maybe I should’ve flubbed the test intentionally. I hadn’t thought they’d have a server-wide announcement for successes. Shrugging to myself, I glanced down at the map, confirmed the name of the brothel, and picked up my pace.

  Making my way through Darmos, I spotted a wider variety of races handling menial tasks. There were elves, dwarves, and even a few centaurs. Relatively standard fantasy fare. However, there were also a handful of races I didn’t know the names of, and my UI didn’t tell me—only their names, which I doubted I’d be able to pronounce.

  Players, however, were always human.

  It wasn’t until I neared the red-light district, adjacent to one of the nearby commerce areas, that I began to see the captive demons. They appeared to come in many varieties, but one thing was common to them all—collars and shackles, all of which had engravings and crystals inlaid in the metal bands. Under other circumstances, they might’ve been pretty.

  At least, that’s what I thought until I saw a demon nearby stop in place, convulsing. I thought he was throwing a fit at first, until he pulled at the band around his neck. His skin was quickly bruising, the magical charge creating branching figures from his veins.

  The demon’s owner was nearly half his height, but a swift strike across the poor bastard’s lower back got him moving again. I had to fight off both my nausea and my desire to beat the shit out of the human responsible.

  In the red-light district proper, male and female prostitutes, or ‘escorts,’ accompanied clients or ran other errands freely in the streets. The colorful cacophony of different attire and makeup was like nothing I’d ever seen in real life. It was completely different from the prostitutes I’d seen. Instead, they were more like courtesans from certain European and Asian time periods.

  Well, this is close to where all the wealthy people live, by the look of it, I thought, before frowning to myself. Well, NPCs, rather. Perhaps there’s player housing around here too?

  “Looking for anything in particular, darling?” A male demon walked up to me, a sweet smile on his face and a smoldering kiseru—a Japanese-style pipe—in one hand. Like all the others I had seen, he wore a collar and cuffs. His, though, were much fancier than those of the demons who had been performing mundane work by the district’s outskirts.

  “Work, actually,” I replied, holding up the poster.

  “So, I will have the pleasure of seeing your lovely face more often!” he exclaimed, his mouth curving into an alluring smile. “Wonderful! I’m certain we’
ll get along famously—and the Madam will be pleased as well. You may call me Silas.”

  “Don’t give ‘im your real name, Otherworlder.” A guard clamped a hand on my shoulder before I could speak up. “Demons can control those whose name they know. Unless you’re lookin’ to betray the empire—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get the point,” I cut him off and shot him an irritated look. “Thanks for the warning. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

  “I will take you to see the Madam—I’m certain she will adore your fire,” Silas spoke with a smile.

  He offered me his arm, but it quickly became apparent that wouldn’t work. Like most of the demons I’d seen, Silas was easily eight feet in height. I hesitated a moment, unnerved by the NPC’s behavior, before allowing him to lead me away from the guard.

  Every NPC I saw nearby was much higher-level than the players present. There were a few who possessed a cumulative level under a thousand, but many doubled that. Silas was a little over four thousand. Either he had eight skillsets maxed, a lot of levels between many, or NPCs adhered to a different leveling system than players did. I made a mental note to check into it when I got home.

  “Silas? Where the hell have you been?” a tall elven woman demanded the moment my demon ‘escort’ led me into a large, opulent building. Above her head I spotted an icon which, when I focused on it, expanded to show a guild name. So, this one was a player. Huh. “Since when did I say you could pick up clients off the— Ah! Demo?!”

  “Demo?” Silas questioned, tilting his head. The ‘Madam’ of the establishment pointed to me and mouthed silently a few times, prompting the demon to look at me.

  “Think of it like a nickname,” I replied as Silas arched an eyebrow. “My parents and I would’ve had more problems than we already do if they had actually named me ‘Demo.’” I turned my attention back to the startled woman. “You’re the owner?”

  “Yes, but what are you doing here?” she asked, baffled. I shoved her own poster in her face, but her expression only became more confused. “If you’re capable of killing, guarding a place like this is way lower than your skillset…Oh! So, you’re an actual demo…I see. Jeriskyr Studios is really going all-out, aren’t they? Well, we do need more bouncers. However, if you’re just playing a demo…”