Fantasy Justice: Incarceration
Chapter 8

Wednesday, March 3rd, 2060 — Same Day

Northeast of Felorius, Unholy Alliance Territory

Sara and her two companions passed through the northeast city gate. In the distance beyond it were farmlands and wooded groves, as well as a chain of mountains that dominated the horizon to the north. One of the main aqueducts passed over the massive city wall and toward those mountains. A player-made cobblestone road left the city, branching off in the direction of various local dungeons.

The Rough Rider gathering proved impossible to miss—there were several thousand players milling about over a wide, grassy field. Many were already engaged in non-lethal contests. Other inmates near the three women were also walking toward this gathering. Those with high enough XP rode horses, and in a few cases more exotic mounts based on fantastical creatures.

“So just who are these ‘Rough Riders?’” Clare asked without preamble, ending Sara and May’s conversation about movies.

“They’re the largest inmate guild in the game,” May explained. “Unlike most other guilds, they don’t have much of an ideology beyond encouraging inmate cooperation. They run these lessons as a recruiting tool. Oh, and I know the founder, John Martinez.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Clare said. Sara would have been surprised if she had not—he was to Fantasy raiding what Babe Ruth was to baseball.

“He’s successfully commanded the defense of Castle Malice eight years running,” Sara elaborated. “I think he still tanks raids once in a while, but this training seems to be his main concern these days.”

“And how did he end up in here?”

“On the outside he was a high-tech corporate thief. During a botched robbery he killed a security guard.”

Clare made a skeptical noise. “Are either of you planning to join this guild?”

“I’m not,” May said. “I’ll admit, there are a lot of advantages to joining a major guild early—they buy your spells, pay you a small stipend, and help you assemble a party. Townies can get start-up funds for a trade instead.

“But if you join a guild before max XP, you’re blacklisted if you leave it without permission. You can’t raid with anyone, and guild businesses will refuse you. Even the gangs toe the line out of fear.

“The big advantage to staying a free agent until maximum is that you can join or leave most guilds at will. If you’re a potential raider, you can even start a bidding war in exchange for a temporary contract.”

“All the more reason to maintain my independence,” Clare said.

Sara smiled. “Then it seems we’re all in agreement for once.”

By this time, the three women were approaching the edges of the spread out crowd. They heard the sound of a number of horses at a trot behind them and turned around. About two dozen riders were approaching. Sara focused on the leader, whom she of course recognized immediately:

General John Martinez

XP 100% | I15

Felony Murder

Armed Robbery

Guild: Rough Riders (~43k)

The title came from his guild. Sara could not help but be impressed that he had survived so long in Fantasy. He rode atop his warhorse, wearing medieval finery and obsidian half-plate armor. He was a tall, handsome man with beige skin. His head was completely shaved. Though he looked to be in his mid-20’s, this was because no one visibly aged in Fantasy. If she recalled correctly, he was actually thirty-five.

The guild officer and his entourage dismounted. Their mounts all glowed white and vanished. Next, a bullhorn materialized in the general’s hand. “Proud warriors of our illustrious Goblin Queen, the Rough Riders welcome you to another fine day of combat training!” His magnified voice was deep and gravelly. And clearly, May had not been misleading her about his propensity for role-playing. Much of the crowd humored him by cheering. “Here you will learn to do battle with the many threats to our Unholy Alliance, including the accursed hunters of the Kingdom!

“Those of you who are advanced students should spread out and start practicing amongst yourselves. And remember, non-lethal contests only! I don’t need any corpses stinking up my field.

“Beginners will be divided among the instructors according to weapon. Today, I will be teaching...” He held up his free hand. A long, ornate spear materialized in it. “Spears! All you new spear-men and spear-women, follow me. The rest of you, listen for your weapon. Short spears will be taught separately.” He turned and started walking away.

One of the other instructors materialized his own bullhorn and called for one-handed axes. Meanwhile, Sara and a number of others walked after Martinez. She considered herself fortunate to have such an expert instructor on her first day of training.

“I’ll wait in front of the city gate for Pari,” May called after her. “Let’s meet there at the end of the day if we can’t find each other in the crowd.”

Sara turned and waved in acknowledgment. This was not a consideration she was used to dealing with. There were no phones in Fantasy—or other forms of communication between inmates more complicated than newspapers and radio broadcasts. She had to admit that she loathed the idea of doing without the internet.

As Sara and a small crowd followed Martinez, she held out her right hand and summoned her spear. The weapon that materialized was two meters in length and made entirely of cold iron. The bladed end made up some thirty centimeters of that length. The spear was primarily a thrusting weapon, but the blade also had sharp edges that could slash at an enemy. Since “magic” metals were unnaturally strong and light, the shaft of the spear was a hollow tube of this same material instead of wood. Unlike most other weapons in Fantasy, there was not a hand guard. Instead, there were a number of slightly raised rings along the weapon. These were intended to stop an opponent’s blade from sliding into one’s hand when using the shaft to block.

“Everyone summon your weapons and then spread out!” the general yelled. This grouping was small enough that he no longer needed the bullhorn, which he had returned to his inventory.

The lesson began with demonstrations of various techniques for attacking and blocking, which everyone practiced at length. Along with this was a talk about which tactics to use against opponents with different sorts of weapons. Finally, Martinez ordered everyone to continue to practicing forms on their own, while he walked around and checked to see that everyone was doing them correctly. He offered occasional corrections or words of encouragement as he walked through the group.

Upon reaching Sara, he favored her with a roguish grin. “I know you’re new here, because I’d certainly remember such a striking young warrior.” His deep voice contrasted with his often boisterous and theatrical manner of speaking. “General John Martinez, at your service.” He gave a slight bow, with his right fist over his heart.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, pausing in her practice and feeling slightly awkward. “Sara Takahashi. I have just arrived in the game. Or the city, I mean.”

“Ha! It seems everyone is warned to humor me.”

“I met May Roberts when I arrived. She said you...fully embrace life in Felorius.”

He held his chin thoughtfully. “That’s the most diplomatic way I’ve ever been called a nutcase.”

“I didn’t mean—”

He interrupted her with a laugh so loud, it attracted the stares of everyone around them. “Don’t worry! I always appreciate someone who’s willing to play along with my antics. And you’re fortunate to know May—she’s as talented as she is fierce.

“Now, let’s see how you’re coming along with the spear!”

Sara went through the maneuvers she was originally shown while Martinez observed. She continued as he spoke. “Don’t be concerned if you’re a little clumsy compared to the others—Chronomil takes a couple days to properly enhance your reflexes. Also, you need to attack more forcefully. Everyone has the same physical strength in Fantasy—it’s quite an adjustment for those of smaller stature.

“But don’t let the change go to your head. Strength is very different from the damage stat. Mine is so high—and your health is so low—that I could defeat you with the tiniest scratch.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve read a lot about the mechanics and tactics of the game.” She thrust the spear a few more times.

“That’s better! And it’s good to be prepared. If you’ve read about tactics, then you must have some rationale for your choice of weapon?”

“I understand that wearing light armor for mobility, while using the spear for its greater reach, can make it much more difficult for an opponent to effectively attack.” Armors were categorized light, medium, and heavy in increasing order of protection and weight. Sara’s light bikini, worn under her clothes, was made of leather and weighed almost nothing.

“Ah. An unconventional strategy, but one some excellent warriors swear by. Of course, it’s risky—you need room to maneuver, and light armor can create additional work for your healer.”

“I’m planning to heal—so if that proves an issue, it will be my own problem.”

“Hmm...bold, but thoughtful. I predict that you’ll make a fine addition to our Queen’s mighty legions!”

“Thank you, General.”

“Please, call me John.” The charming smile reappeared. “We should continue this conversation over dinner.”

She halted her combat practice again. “I’m flattered. But also gay as the day is long,” she added lightly.

“Oh? ...In that case, I think you and May would make a cute couple.”

Sara smiled, and he continued. “But in all seriousness, we should talk more about your combat style. You and May should stay until after my personal lessons are over for the afternoon.”

She nodded, and went back to her exercises. He moved on to the next student. Sara supposed she must have made a good impression, if he was willing to give her extra help.

By the time beginner’s training was completed, a couple hours had passed. Sara searched along the edge of the widely spread out crowd where she had parted from the others, and found May demonstrating combat techniques to Clare and Pari. Nearby, inmates were engaged in battles that typically had anywhere from two to ten participants. The best fighters attracted audiences who observed their tactics.

Sporadic notices about nearby non-lethal contests appeared on Sara’s HUD. She activated the PvP menu and turned them off to avoid the distraction.

Sara greeted the others, and soon they settled into their training with contests of their own. Clare was able to challenge May more strongly than anyone would have expected given her lack of prior experience. As the day wore on, she even won a few times. The pair also accepted battles from other low XP inmates.

Meanwhile, Sara and Pari fought only with each other—as neither of them were acclimated to Chronomil yet, they were too slow and clumsy to challenge anyone else. Pari had obtained a silver morning star and shield from her plea bargain. The weapon was the same length as Clare’s sword, but beyond the hilt was a thin rod that ended in a heavy cylinder with a number of spikes. There was also one larger spike atop the cylinder. The shield was rectangular, with rounded corners. Sara also noted that Pari preferred to fight with her weapon in her left hand.

An unpleasant surprise of combat was how painful it could be. Being struck by a weapon was intensely uncomfortable, but unlike in real life the pain mostly passed after the attack. There was a dull ache left behind until the health loss was recovered. Badly injured limbs stopped functioning for a couple seconds, creating vulnerability.

Throughout the day there were sporadic new arrivals from the city, but they were outnumbered by those departing. Meanwhile, John and his instructors wandered through the crowd. They stopped to watch battles and offer advice. The four young women gained this attention several times, though not from the general himself. Not surprisingly, the instructors also extended offers to join the guild—but the group politely refused. At times the instructors dueled among themselves for demonstration purposes.

During the afternoon, many of the instructors finally left, and with them the vast majority of the students. Two hundred or so inmates remained for paid lessons that lasted twenty minutes each. Sara and her companions continued their own practice. She found it promising that there were no complaints about how long they had been at this—hopefully that meant everyone in the potential party had a strong work ethic.

The sun was noticeably lower in the sky by the the time the paid lessons ended. As everyone else departed for the city gate, the four newer inmates approached John.

“May!” He called when he noticed her. “It seems you’ve made a number of new allies.”

“Hopefully. You already met Sara. This is Pari Tehrani.”

Pari waved shyly. John’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm after a couple seconds of looking at her. “NRC?! Does that mean you’re related to—”

“Please!” Pari interrupted plaintively. “Please, don’t talk about her.”

“Oh, that was terribly rude of me! My apologies. ...I was just a little surprised.”

Sara’s knowledge of the game’s history was not as extensive as she might like, but she knew whom he had been thinking of. Cassandra Tehrani was the hunter who had slain the most inmates in the game—and this was despite having rarely played for the past five years. And her father was Pari’s supposed victim. Sara had been bothered by this knowledge upon meeting the timid woman. Now that she had had some time to mull it over, she decided that May and Clare had a right to this information as well. She would let them know tonight.

Meanwhile, John recovered after a short delay. “All that aside... General John Martinez, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pari,” he said with a slight bow.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied quietly.

He looked to Clare, but she preempted him. “Clare Ward.”

“Ha! Straight to the point. I’ll bet you have a true warrior’s spirit!”

“I’m an inmate who wants to learn how to survive—not a ‘warrior,’” she said with disdain.

Sara worried that Clare was making another poor first impression, but John seemed unperturbed. “In Fantasy, you’ll find that those are one and the same. But you might enjoy life more if you think in terms of the latter.”

“I doubt it.”

“It works for me—but then, fools are easily amused,” he said mischievously. “Well, as long as we’re all here, how about a free lesson? Sara, Pari, you first. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

The pair materialized their armaments. They then had a brief and awkward duel. John interrupted the contest a number of times to offer suggestions. When Sara won with a thrust into Pari’s heart, John shouted. “An excellent strike, Sara! You’re both doing well for your first day.” Pari’s wound was green rather than red. Apparently, goblins were supposed to have an abnormal physiology.

The two women separated and nodded to each other respectfully—from what they had observed today, that was the custom in Fantasy.

“Good hustle, Pari,” May called out.

“Thanks,” she said shyly.

Meanwhile, John gave May a skeptical glance. “That phrasing might have been better suited to track practice,” she admitted.

Pari had been reduced to zero health by the non-lethal crit. The health and mana stats regenerated slowly in combat, but quickly out of it. Ten seconds after the duel ended, she was back at full health and free of discomfort. The mark left over her heart from the attack disappeared.

John spoke with Pari about the usage of her shield before he was ready to move on. “Clare, why don’t you face Sara next?”

Pari returned her morning star and shield to her inventory and stepped aside. The usual dialog box appeared in Sara’s HUD, asking if she wanted to accept Clare’s non-lethal contest. She agreed to do this as her opponent’s weaponry appeared.

The conflict was over almost immediately. Clare easily evaded her opening attack and brought her sword down on Sara’s skull. There was a brief, sharp pain before the blade was withdrawn. With her stamina temporarily brought to zero by her drained health, it felt difficult just to remain standing. You have lost a non-lethal contest with Clare Ward, the HUD told her unnecessarily. They both nodded to acknowledge their “battle,” such as it was.

The sword had partially passed through Sara’s glasses, but like any other clothing object they did not break. There was merely a red line in the glass—not that that made any sense.

Since meeting her, Sara had been curious to see if Clare was actually capable of any sign of amusement. So she now set herself up for obvious teasing. “I was using that brain,” she said as she rubbed her head.

“Allegedly.” The corners of Clare’s mouth upturned ever so slightly.

“Ha! I knew you could smile.”

“I did no such thing,” she replied irritably.

She’s not going to be easy to win over. But Sara’s instinct was that somewhere under that icy and authoritarian persona, there was a person worth knowing. Then again, that feeling might just be her physical attraction leading her astray.

John laughed. “Excellent! Joking with your comrade-in-arms—Clare, we’ll make a warrior out of you yet!”

She had no response, other than to look even more annoyed. The general continued. “I take it you’re already acclimated to Chronomil?”

“Yes. I was in the military briefly.”

“Then it’s not too unfair of me to have you go against May.”

Meanwhile, Sara’s health had refilled, and the damage to her glasses had vanished. It was her turn to disappear her weapon and move out of the way.

In stark contrast to the previous two fights, May and Clare’s duel almost looked like something out of a movie. They slowly circled and probed each others’ defenses, accompanied by the sounds of clashing metal. May attacked aggressively, only to be awkwardly driven back by Clare’s counter. But she recovered, and the contest continued. There were a number of feints and other gambits from both women. Their exertions and various glancing hits drained their stamina and health—but May was dropping faster. They collected a number of red lines on their bodies and outfits marking their “wounds.” In keeping with Fantasy’s policies, there was no actual blood or clothing damage.

The three spectators watched quietly, with John occasionally nodding in approval. The battle ended after over two minutes, but not with a dramatic critical hit. A final scratch on May’s leg lowered her to zero points of health remaining. She dropped to one knee. She was sweating profusely and breathing heavily as a result of fighting so long with low stamina. Clare’s stamina had also dropped substantially, but it was still high enough that only a few beads of sweat were visible on her face.

May dematerialized her swords and regained her feet. The women nodded to each other—but neither of them seemed particularly respectful about it.

“Very well done, Clare!” John cheered. “I can hardly believe you’ve only just arrived in the city. Have you ever fought with a sword before today?”

“No. Although I did have some training in close quarters combat.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Even still, that might be the most prowess I’ve ever seen demonstrated by a newcomer.” He then pointed dramatically at her. “But don’t take that as an excuse to get cocky! You’ll still need many more hours of training before you’re ready to face a dungeon, or a hunter.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.” She returned her sword and shield to her inventory.

May looked irritated at the praise Clare had received. Apparently, John also noticed this. “May, don’t be discouraged. You’re actually making rapid progress—and you nearly won a few times.”

This segued into a discussion of the contest, and what improvements both women could make in their fighting style. After this, John focused on Sara, giving her some additional pointers about spear fighting and the high mobility tactics she was interested in.

“Here’s a list of the available writings on the subject,” he finally added. A new dialog box let Sara accept the item into her inventory. “Actually, Clare and Pari, you both might want to get a jump on your studying as well.” There was a brief pause as he presumably gave similar items to the other women. John then looked to Sara once more. “Oh, and you’ll want to buy a speed gem as soon as possible—the combat style you’re after requires greater fleetness of foot than is possible without one. Even the regular first tier gems run about five thousand gold though.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Sara assured him. She paused a moment in consideration. John Martinez had proven every bit as knowledgeable as she had expected, and he seemed a talented instructor as well. “I was wondering, how much do you charge for personal lessons?”

“For someone not in the guild? Three thousand gold for twenty minutes.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “That might sound like a bit of a ripoff, but I don’t raid often these days. And if a guild recruitment officer couldn’t even afford a house...well just think of how embarrassing that would be for all his comrades!

“Now, if you were to join the Rough Riders, I’d be able to get you a couple free lessons with me or another professional instructor each month...”

Sara was surprised that such a renowned figure was having cash flow problems. She was much less surprised that a recruitment officer might have recruitment as a reason to give a free lesson.

Clare spoke up. “Roberts said there’s blacklisting if someone leaves a guild they accept help from. Is that true?”

“Well, yes.” He held up his hands defensively. “Now, don’t look at me like that. I always explain that sort of thing before asking anyone to sign on the dotted line.”

He lowered his hands and looked to Sara, but she shook her head. “I’m planning to stay independent.”

“And I know May’s not going to change her mind.” She also shook her head. Sara noticed that she and Clare no longer showed any sign of their earlier exertions.

John looked expectantly to Pari. She had trouble meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to divide my loyalties between the Church and a guild.”

John sighed. “Well, I gave it my best shot.”

“I would like to buy a lesson from you, after we’ve had a few days to settle in,” Sara said.

“Now, that’s more like it.” His eyes shifted focus to something Sara could not see. She recalled that the HUD had a note-taking function. “Let’s see...I have the last opening on Monday available. That’s at 4:40.”

“I’ll take it. And I’ll pay for a second lesson if you’re willing to stay late—I’d like to be sure all four of us get enough attention.” Sara had wondered if Clare would again object to her “charity,” but this time she remained silent. Maybe the idea of working with the rest of the group was growing on her?

“You’re very ambitious to improve! Excellent—I’d be glad to stay. ...It seems you already have a good source of income?”

“I’m dancing at the Slovenly Goblin.” Sara had wondered if Pari might have a similar reaction to Clare over the idea of exotic dancing. But she and May only laughed slightly at the name. Clare looked away briefly.

John scratched his bald head self-consciously. “Well, I’m afraid if you work on Friday nights, you’re going to have to put up with me in the crowd—I’m something of a regular. And a loud drunk!”

Sara smiled. “I’ll bet. Don’t worry, it’ll be nice to see a familiar face.”

“And on that slightly awkward note, I shall be off!” John’s warhorse materialized, and he pulled himself onto the saddle. “May, you should drop by for lunch on Saturday so we catch up. Actually, why don’t all of you drop by around noon?”

“Thanks, sounds good.”

Sara and Pari also said thanks, while Clare just nodded.

“Hee-yah, Theodore!” He snapped the reins—which Sara suspected was not even necessary in Fantasy—and rode off toward the main gate.

“He’s certainly a character,” Sara said, amused. May chuckled as she led the group in the direction of the city gate.

“He’s certainly an idiot,” Clare added. “...But I can’t argue with results. Surviving eight years in this place without just hiding in the capital is impressive.”

“At least you have some sense,” May told her. The other woman glared at her.

“Let’s not be negative. We’ve really had a productive day.” Sara looked to her green companion. “Pari, what did you think of training?”

“It was okay,” she replied. “I’d like to keep going until I know if I have any potential. ...I’m surprised I don’t feel tired after all that.”

“The real you has been sitting perfectly still in a vat of fluid all day,” Clare reminded her.

This dampened Pari’s spirits, which earned the redheaded woman a nasty look from May. “Don’t worry,” she reassured a grateful Pari. “This place is kinda freaky at first, but after a week or two you don’t think about it much. Hell, sometimes I even catch myself thinking of people as goblins and demons like it’s a thing. I can sorta see where John’s coming from—though I’m not saying his whole shtick isn’t painfully embarrassing at times.”

Sara pointed at her forcefully. “May, you just lack the warrior’s spirit!”

This impression earned a little laugh from May and Pari, and a reduction in Clare’s frown—which Sara also decided to take as approval.

May continued. “So anyway, I was planning on visiting the library after work. I can pick up the books on everyone’s reading list if you want?”

They all transferred the papers they had received to May. “We’re in prison, but we still have homework,” the demon player noted. “That’s kind of a bitch.”

Sara and Pari thanked her for her help. After a brief quiet, they passed through the wide city gate and onto the streets of Felorius. “We ought to get started on our rounds,” Clare said to May.

“Yeah. Let’s divide up the fancy neighborhoods same as we did yesterday.”

Sara considered her own situation, and looked to Pari. “I have some time before I need to get to work. I could go with you to the cathedral if you like?”

“If it’s not any trouble...”

“Not at all. I’m actually curious to see how the place looks.” While that was true, she was also motivated by a protective instinct—in some ways, Pari reminded Sara of her little sister. Though she knew she should not let the comparison cloud her judgment.

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