BOOK 2

  CHAPTER 2

  Dumb Dumb

  Bash staggered out of the cave and down the mountain pass toward the Beastmaster camp. The sun was too bright. His everything was too sore. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Shai was still giving him the silent treatment.

  A shadow passed overhead.

  Lilly swooped down and landed on his shoulder, talons gripping tight. Then immediately launched off again, circling above him in agitated loops.

  “Eww! Sticky!” She squawked, her voice carrying that strange mix of child and bird that Bash still wasn't used to. “Why are you covered in blood again?”

  “Oh, you know me.” He shrugged, wincing at the motion. “Fell down another hole.”

  “Dumb! Dumb!” She circled twice more, gaining altitude. “Learn to fly!”

  And then she was gone, a black speck against the sky.

  Bash stopped walking. Learn to fly? Could he learn to fly? “Shai! Can I learn to fly?”

  The response Shai gave, was through their internal link, clipped and cold. “I'm not talking to you.”

  “Oh, come on. Are you still mad about the outfit thing?” He started walking again, hands spread in exasperation. “Listen, I think it looks great!”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He paused. “Just, you know, a bit much. Seriously, you should read the comments.”

  A beat of silence before she replied “Well, I'm not changing. I don't care what anyone says!”

  Bash sighed and kept walking.

  The camp entrance came into view. Patrick stood there like a statue, arms crossed, flanked by a Beastmaster and one of the dire wolves. The wolf was the size of a small horse. Patrick somehow looked more intimidating.

  Bash approached. Patrick grunted.

  It was a disapproving grunt. Bash had learned to differentiate. There was the acknowledging grunt, the agreeing grunt, the “I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that” grunt, and then there was this one. The “you're an idiot and I'm not going to waste words explaining why” grunt.

  “Great to see you too, Patrick.” Bash gave a lazy wave. “Why speak when less word do good, right?”

  Patrick's expression didn't change. It never did.

  Bash turned to the wolf. “And hey there, buddy.” He reached out to pet it.

  “NO PET!”

  Bash stumbled backward, nearly falling on his ass. “Jesus Christ, they can talk?” He looked at Patrick. “Did you know the wolves could talk?”

  Another grunt.

  The Beastmaster standing beside them let out a low, grumbly laugh.

  “Fucking hell.” Bash straightened himself and kept walking. He found his tent and pushed through the flap.

  Luis was sprawled across one of the cots, dead asleep, mouth hanging open. In the middle of the day.

  Bash grabbed the edge of the cot and flipped it.

  Luis hit the ground with a thud and a string of Spanish curses that would have made his grandmother cry.

  “It's the middle of the day, Luis. Go do something useful.”

  Luis scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off with exaggerated dignity. “Okay, your Lordship. Whatever you say.” He walked out, still muttering.

  Bash righted the cot and sat down heavily. Your Lordship. Everyone was calling him that now. “I knew I shouldn't have agreed to Jack's plan,” he muttered.

  He pulled up his menu. Fifty-six followers. All Beastmasters. He flicked over to the city planning interface. The Beastmasters were already hard at work. Not just huts and lean-tos anymore. Actual structures. Walls. A granary. Something that might eventually be a barracks.

  Now that they had a Lord who could authorize construction orders, they were building a real settlement.

  Bash laid back on the cot and stared at the canvas ceiling.

  “Fuck my life.” He closed his eyes. “I wanted to kill goblins or something. Not build a damn city.” He groaned. “When did this turn from Skyrim into SimCity?”

  Before he could get comfortable, a shadow darkened the entrance to his tent.

  “Bash.” Nora's voice. Not a question. “I saw you were back. Can you please authorize the medicine hut? We need to start making medicine, there are some infections my spells can't keep up with.”

  Groaning, Bash stood back up. “Okay, fine. Lead on.”

  They walked across the small village to a cleared area on the far side. The Beastmasters were calling it Beast Village. Bash had insisted they come up with something better. Anything better. He was so tired of this game naming everything so literally. Beastmasters. Beast Village. What was next, Beast Road leading to Beast Mountain? Though, that would be better than Mountain Pass.

  He could always override the decision. Lords had that power to name things. But he didn't want to be a dictator over stupid stuff, so majority rules.

  Beast Village it was. And if they hit four hundred followers, it could become Beast Town. Maybe even Beast City with enough people. He was already dreading it.

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  They stopped at the open plot. Bash pulled up his menu, navigated to the settlement tab, and highlighted the empty space. A list of building options unfurled before him. And kept unfurling.

  “Shai, can you please help me select it?” He scrolled past blacksmith variants, tannery upgrades, three different sizes of granary. “Seriously, there are like a thousand options. This is literally what an AI assistant is supposed to help with.”

  >“No.”

  “Mother...” He caught himself. A group of kids had wandered nearby and were staring at him. He forced a smile. “Haha, hi kids. You all look great.”

  One of them gave him that look. The “eww, weird adult” look. Then they ran off.

  Nora spoke up behind him. “Once you're done with that, I need to look you over. Those wounds look bad.”

  Bash knew better than to argue with Nora. He just gave a tired nod and kept scrolling.

  There it was. He selected it.

  The Beastmasters waiting nearby sprang into action immediately, hauling rocks and lumber toward the plot before the menu had even closed.

  “Seriously.” Bash watched them work. “Why can't they do this without me?”

  Nora just looked at him. “Come with me.”

  They walked to a large tent at the back of the camp. Inside, wounded Beastmasters filled every available cot. Some were bandaged. Some were moaning softly. Many were missing limbs, blinded, or otherwise broken in ways that wouldn't heal quickly.

  Bash stopped in the entrance.

  He remembered the fights. The skeleton horde. The marauders. Every battle that had torn through this place since he'd arrived.

  Players caused this. Not directly, maybe. But every quest trigger, every escalation, every world event that spawned because someone like him walked into the wrong cave at the wrong time. He was a walking disaster. Everywhere he went, things like this followed.

  Nora guided him to a chair and started tending to his wounds. Her hands were efficient, clinical. She didn't ask how he'd got hurt. She never did.

  Bash sat there, staring at the canvas wall, letting her work, when a horn blew. Sharp and loud. Signaling danger approaching.

  ***

  Bash was already running before the horn stopped echoing. Nora stayed close on his heels, keeping pace despite the massive difference in stats. Beastmasters scrambled in every direction, grabbing weapons, shouting orders, hauling children toward the center of camp.

  Up ahead, he could see the makeshift wall. Dire wolves had already gathered there, hackles raised, teeth bared.

  Bash skidded to a stop next to Patrick.

  Patrick pointed. “Londonland troops. End of the pass.”

  Bash squinted. He could make out the formation now. At least a hundred troops. Twenty cavalry in front, horses stamping and snorting. Forty foot soldiers in tight ranks behind them. Another forty in the back that looked like support. Archers, maybe. Mages.

  “What do you think they want?” Bash asked.

  Patrick's expression was grim. “My guess? Us.”

  Bash swallowed. “You mean… they want me.”

  Patrick just nodded.

  Nora stepped up beside him. “If they're after you, then they're after us.”

  Bash looked at her and forced a smile. “Sure, but seriously. I can't let more of you die because of me.” He glanced back at the army. “I'll surrender if I have to. Who knows, maybe Maximus just wants to be friends?”

  Nora scowled at him. “Absolutely not.”

  “Not this time, Bash.” Luis appeared on his other side, sword already drawn. “Every time you go off alone, you end up getting your ass kicked.”

  Bash was flabbergasted. “No I don't.”

  Luis looked him up and down. “Dude. Look at yourself.”

  Bash glanced at his shredded armor, the dried blood, the fresh bruises. “Okay, yeah. This one time, sure.” He paused. “And maybe one other time. Or two.”

  Shai materialized next to him, acting like she hadn't just been ignoring him for the past hour. “Bash, this is their forward group. Lilly tells me there is another force ten times as large at the bottom of the pass.”

  Bash felt his stomach drop. A thousand troops.

  Patrick was already turning away, barking orders. Military slang. Something about hatches and setting traps and defensive positions. Bash had assigned him the role of Guard Captain after Shai hacked his profile. Now that he could reassign jobs through contracts, he'd wasted a huge amount of time optimizing everyone's roles.

  Nora meanwhile was officially a Archhealer, and Luis was something lame, called a Champion.

  Bash tried waving to get Patrick's attention, but the man was already gone, moving down the line, shouting orders. He gave up and turned to Jack, who stood nearby watching the approaching army with cold eyes. Jack still hadn't taken a contract.

  “So, Jack.” Bash spread his hands. “What's the deal? Do we like... parley or something?”

  Jack looked at him. “This isn't a fantasy book, Bash. If you try to parley, they'll just kill you.” He turned and walked off, throwing out his own set of orders to the Beastmasters nearby.

  “God damnit.” Bash watched him go. “What's the point of being a lord if I don't do anything but approve build orders?”

  Nora was staring at him. That stare. The critical one. “If you want to be a lord,” she said slowly, “then act like one. Stop running off exploring caves.” The glare intensified.

  ‘Oh shit.’ That glare meant imminent death for a lot of people. Not him, necessarily. But he was going to suffer for this later. “You're right,” he said quickly. “I will seriously do that. I will be better. I promise.”

  Nora kept glaring. “I have to prepare the tent for triage and get the nurses ready.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “I recommend you get new armor and get ready to fight.” She stormed off.

  Luis sidled up next to him. “So, your Lordship.” He gave an elaborate bow. “May I escort you to the royal armory so you may be fitted with your royal armor?”

  “Oh, fuck off.” Bash shouldered past the younger man.

  Luis cackled as they turned and jogged toward the blacksmith.

  The forge was chaos. Beastmasters crowded around, grabbing whatever they could, strapping on leather and chain and whatever else was available. Bash had to wade through the crowd just to reach the armor pile.

  Not much was left. Scraps, mostly. Mismatched pieces that wouldn't fit together properly.

  He sighed and grabbed whatever looked near his size. “Not like any of this damn gear will last more than a couple days anyway,” he muttered.

  Luis leaned against a post, watching him struggle with a bent pauldron. “You always have the best fashion.”

  Bash eyed him critically. “You know what? You look about my size.”

  Luis blinked slowly, quickly glancing down at himself.

  “Why don't you go ahead and strip.” Bash kept his voice flat, serious. “I'll wear your gear. You can wear mine.”

  Luis gulped. “Um. I mean... if you want?”

  Bash let the moment stretch. Then he cracked an evil smile. “I'm just messing with you. But I'm glad to know you can take me seriously if needed.”

  Luis exhaled. “Dios mío. That look in your eyes is scary as hell, man. Seriously.”

  Bash softened. “Sorry, Luis. I'm just... you know.”

  Luis patted him on the shoulder. “Hermano, you ever need to talk about it...”

  The horn blasted again.

  “Some other time.” Bash started running back toward the gate, trying to strap on his gear as he moved. By the time he reached the wall, the cavalry had already made their move. He could see the hoofprints in the dirt, the churned earth where they'd charged and then pulled back.

  “What did I miss?” he asked the nearest Beastmaster.

  “They were charging,” the man said, not taking his eyes off the pass. “Must have seen our wall and ditch. Turned back.”

  Bash nodded. Made sense. Cavalry was useless against fortifications.

  Further down the pass, foot soldiers were marching up in tight formation. Scanning the ranks, he noted the telltale stiffness. Bot soldiers following programmed orders in perfect synced.

  But two of them, on the far right, lagged slightly behind and out of step. Uploads.

  “Lilly!” Bash yelled.

  A raven landed on a nearby post. “Hello!”

  “You see the two men on the far right? The ones lagging behind?” Bash asked.

  Her head tilted. “Hah, of course! I have the best vision!”

  “Yes, Lilly, I know. That's why I need you to do this special quest for me.” Bash pulled two bright blue pellets from his pouch. Paint markers. “I need you to hit both of those two on the right shoulder. Think you can do that?”

  “Easy peasy! You can count on me!” She snatched the pellets and launched into the sky.

  Bash watched her go for a moment, before looking back at the enemy. Capture the Uploads and kill the scripts. It wasn't perfect. But it was something.