The Game

  It had been a good three years since the "players" entered the valley. That's what the newcomers of the fourth wave called themselves. Mike understood the lunatics to a degree. It wasn't as though the first three waves of humans hadn't fully embraced their own brand of madness.

  Mike himself had been the first "wave." Back then, he'd been convinced he was dreaming. The second wave had consisted of only three people. One of them had risen to become the fanatical cult leader of a group of several hundred, who made up the third wave. And because not everyone had been willing to follow him, the people of that wave had burned, bludgeoned, and murdered each other in their sleep.

  Compared to the fourth wave, though, they'd all been near-model examples of mental health. The players had started by the thousands in a desert that, in hindsight, struck them as a kind of lobby. In the valley, they found a beginner-friendly area. They quenched their thirst undisturbed, and the local sloths fled when they approached. Fire eluded them. But at the river, they soon came across a group of locals. They asked many questions and received astonishing answers. There was talk of flint stones. And of fireballs.

  How naive we had been.

  The younger ones especially wanted to know everything. Their gleaming eyes should have warned us. The players soon noticed they were getting stronger. More resilient. Their tools lasted longer, their weapons grew sharper. Stories about special abilities made the rounds. By the time the first spark flew, it was too late. A new theory took hold: the Game Theory. They were inside a video game with flawless virtual reality. So realistic it was indistinguishable from the real world. The ultimate simulation!

  Part of the concept was that nobody could remember the start of the game. That was the only way to achieve total immersion. Personal information like names or addresses was suppressed to prevent accidental disclosure. After all, many believed, millions of people were watching them try to beat this revolutionary new game. The Game Theory, in its most popular form, was a mix of game and reality show.

  When the campfires finally burned and the locals had no more answers to give, the players declared the game officially open on Day 100 after Mike's arrival (AMA).

  Mike paused mid-carve. A foreign presence had entered the shared field of vision between him and Monty. More than three players, that much was certain.

  With a sigh, he set his carving project aside, brushed the wood shavings from his pants, and went to meet the players. So much for a quiet morning.

  He'd actually planned to finish his wooden figurine today. He'd been working on the squirrel for three weeks now. His best work yet. If it weren't for the constant interruptions.

  The grass was still wet from the heavy rain of the past few hours. At least Sammy was still at school. You didn't want that cheeky girl anywhere near groups of players. Guilds were a whole different story from soaked solo players like the stone-searcher the other day. He did his best to warn the little one to be careful, but she felt dangerously safe around him.

  Mike hadn't gotten far when Monty made himself known inside his head. Of course the young longneck had noticed the intruders too. Mike met the questioning stare with a calming look. It was a small group of players. Five at most. They were heading straight for the village.

  Probably traders. There was a small marketplace on the edge of the village where craftsmen sold their wares. Mike had a little stand of his own on the table in front of his pit. Alongside the quests, he sold his wooden figurines there.

  Slowly, the small stretch of forest came into view. At its center, a large clearing with the village. Mike wanted to cut through and intercept the group on the other side. If only he'd known sooner. Less than an hour ago, he'd walked Sammy to school in the pouring rain.

  Thankfully, their pit was barely a kilometer from the village. Still, he could have waited at Miriam's for an hour. She'd been back for two days now.

  Mike was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the sign: "NPC Village 500 Meters." He kicked it over in annoyance. What kind of manners, putting up signs pointing to other people's villages. He'd completely missed it this morning in the rain.

  The village was reasonably well hidden in the forest. Its general location was known, but they didn't need to be drawing attention to themselves with signs on top of it. Which guild had put that up? "NPC Village", only the players called it that.

  They'd read the signs too late back then. When the newcomers bombarded them with questions about the valley, they'd answered willingly. The story they had to tell spread among the confused newcomers across the entire valley. Long-necked monster horses, enhanced weapons, fireballs and other insane abilities. The whole madness of it.

  In the process, the survivors of the first three waves failed to notice that they were gradually being cast in a certain role. Mike and the others had unwittingly provided the newcomers with a kind of tutorial. They heard the whispers about a game too late. To the new arrivals in the valley, they weren't real people. Locals, sure, but not fellow players. So-called "Non-Player Characters." NPCs, as they were commonly abbreviated.

  By the time they realized how they were being perceived, it was long past too late. The idea of being inside a game had become universal conviction. Their protests meant nothing to the players. NPCs were supposed to believe they were real. That was just part of the programming.

  When the players grew increasingly aggressive in their delusion, the locals abandoned their camp by the river and went into hiding.

  He could make out the group of players more clearly now. One of them was very familiar to him. Had she come alone, he would have been glad to see her. In the company of several players, the reunion made him uneasy.

  So much for traders, then.

  On quick impulse, he stopped a group of woodcutters who were about to head into the forest. "Hey, Sven, do me a favor and tell Miriam we've got visitors." The young man stared at him in confusion for a moment, then nodded and set off.

  Surprised I know his name? Mike wasn't quite the recluse Miriam liked to make him out to be, and Sammy helped him remember the villagers' names by pointing at people at random. Sammy knew everyone's name and corrected him with great enthusiasm. It was a little rude, but good practice.

  Lost in thought, Mike walked past the log cabins. What they'd built here was impressive. In the early days, Miriam kept bringing new people to the village. Mostly children, but some older ones too. Over time, more than four hundred people had settled in the clearing. At least half of them children. The survivors of the third wave looked after them together.

  Unfortunately, the players eventually found their supposedly lost NPCs again. Fortunately, the madness of the early days had given way, after a year of the game, to a somewhat better organized brand of insanity. The players had formed guilds, and the guilds had merged into factions. Now the valley was governed by guild rules and faction laws.

  Miriam had gained considerable influence among the players as a healer. Dennis too. The area around the village was declared a kind of reservation by the factions. An event zone.

  The so-called "NPC Act" forbade players from attacking the NPCs, stealing from them, or lingering in the village without cause. After all, the NPCs might still prove important in the late game.

  You couldn't stop the players from playing the game, though, and searching for quests was a core part of it. So Mike had eventually, out of necessity, funneled the hordes of players to his and Sammy's pit.

  Since then, player visits had been concentrated on the marketplace and the pit.

  Mike breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the flaming tree of the Union. The banner with its crest fluttered vigorously in the wind. Of the three factions, the Western Union was still the most approachable. As an event zone, the NPC village didn't belong to any faction, but it sat between the territories of the Union and the Alliance.

  Now he could make out the guild crest too: a fire-breathing lion on a green field. The Blazing Lion. A small, insignificant guild from the Union's borderlands. As far as he knew, they had fewer than fifteen members. So that's where Max had ended up. Stupid kid.

  "I am Squad Leader Samuel of the Blazing Lion." Mike studied the stern-faced leader. A squad leader was the lowest officer rank in the Union. "These are soldiers Osiris, Maximus, Thyra, Vexarion, and Khan," he introduced the group. Mike did his best to keep a straight face. Maximus? Thank God Sammy wasn't here.

  "Are you going to introduce yourself as well?" the squad leader asked impatiently. Mike didn't like him. Then again, he'd yet to meet anyone of his rank that he could stand. Their meager authority meant everything to them. "Hi, Max," Mike said, nodding at the smallest of the soldiers. Max pointedly ignored him. Mike sighed and turned to the squad leader. "I'm Mike. I'm guessing Max has already told you all about me."

  Samuel frowned and glanced at Max. "Soldier Maximus mentioned he stayed here for a while. Nothing more."

  Max turned red. "I didn't realize the names of these NPCs mattered, sir," he mumbled.

  "My mistake," Mike cut in before the squad leader could respond. "I didn't realize the great soldier Maxi was too busy these days to talk about unimportant NPCs. He was plenty chatty when he showed up here half-starved."

  Max stared at the ground in embarrassment. "My name is Maximus," he said quietly. Mike shrugged and turned back to the squad leader. "Are you…"

  He didn't get any further. Samuel had already turned away. Mike clenched his jaw. God, I hate it when they do that.

  "Do we need this NPC?" Samuel asked curtly. "No, sir. That's the questgiver. He's completely useless."

  Ouch.

  "As a matter of fact, I do have a task for you," Mike said through gritted teeth. "The other day, I lost my favorite stone in the river. Bring it back, and a fine reward you'll earn in turn."

  Samuel looked at Max in confusion, who groaned and shook his head. "I suggest we ignore him and head into the village, sir."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Fine. Miriam was already on her way. Let her sort this out. He studied the rest of the group with a heavy heart. None of them older than sixteen. Squad Leader Samuel and his child unit posed no threat.

  To a certain extent, Mike could also sense emotions. With the full-grown longnecks, it had been limited to raw fury. Through constant contact with Monty, his perception had grown more refined. Murderous intent, at least, he would have felt.

  And even if Max was getting on his nerves by now, the boy wouldn't lead anyone into the village who meant them harm. But is he keeping our secrets? Mike would have liked to talk to him in private. But with his squad leader present, a conversation like that was pointless.

  Max had been ten when he arrived in the valley with the fourth wave. Children under twelve were quickly written off as NPCs. They didn't fit the players' theory. Why would small children be part of such a brutal game? Best case, they were ignored. Worst case, tormented.

  Pale and starving, Max had come to them. When he turned twelve, he ran off to join the players. Now he was back as Soldier Maximus.

  Max, Soldier Maximus (!), hoped they'd wrap up their assignment in the village quickly. Not five minutes back, and Mike had already called him "Soldier Maxi" and tried to send his squad leader on a rock hunt.

  The questgiver was his favorite NPC, admittedly. He was funny and told great stories. At his pit, you could even run into famous players every now and then.

  But of all the NPCs, he was by far the most disrespectful toward the players. Most NPCs interacted with players extremely cautiously and took every provocation in stride. Mike, though, was insolent even toward officers.

  The worst part was his absurd figurine trade. The traders who came to the village were usually low-ranking soldiers who weren't allowed to return without the demanded goods. Mike had an uncanny talent for showing up at the marketplace whenever the demands turned aggressive. He'd then cheerfully lead the agitated players to his pit and offer them his own wares: the ugliest wooden figurines Max had ever seen.

  Max and Sammy had always taken wicked delight in watching the reactions of the furious traders. Who'd want to come back to their squad leader with a grotesque wooden duck instead of the requested lumber and rope? Today, the thought made Max shudder.

  Mike had a strange effect on players. Many of the soldiers posing as traders would start out loud, then grow quieter and quieter. To Max's boundless astonishment, he'd even watched traders buy a figurine after hurling vicious insults. Some of them seemed to do it just so they could leave.

  Are they scared of the weird NPC with his dark pit and his demonic wooden figurines? Max couldn't understand it. Mike was the village storyteller and taught the forestry classes. Not someone you'd need to fear.

  But Squad Leader Samuel certainly wouldn't respond to the figurines by fleeing. Max had wanted to get rid of Mike quickly. Hopefully I didn't insult him too badly. He shook his head firmly. He's just an NPC.

  "So where do we find this cook, soldier?" Samuel snapped him out of his thoughts. Max checked the position of the sun. It had to be late morning already. School's almost out. Is Maja handing the others a stack of homework right about now? The thought made him grin.

  "Sir, this time of day, Boris should be preparing the meal for the villagers. He'll be in the cooking area in the center of the village." The squad leader motioned for him to take the lead, and Max hurried to comply. He noticed with a hint of satisfaction how sour Khan looked. The older boy hated it when Max was in the spotlight.

  "That's good timing, actually," Samuel thought out loud. "Think we'd be allowed to join the NPCs for the meal?" Max said yes. Officially, they weren't supposed to bother the NPCs without reason. But they did have a reason. And there was no rule against asking to eat with them. It happened rarely enough, but it was never refused. The NPCs didn't want trouble. The food on those days was terrible, though.

  Boris and his helpers prepared large quantities every day. At noon and in the evening, all the villagers gathered to eat in the center of the village. If we catch Boris off guard, hopefully he won't have time to oversalt the food.

  Miriam watched the approaching group of child soldiers with a heavy heart. Normally, Mike drew the players' attention to himself. But these ones probably weren't here for one of his idiotic quests.

  The leader was likely in his late twenties, but the "soldiers" were all teenagers. When she recognized Max marching at the front, she grew nervous. So he really did join a guild. But how many of our secrets has he given away? And what does the Blazing Lion want here?

  She couldn't fathom why the boy had run off. Miriam had picked him up in the depths of misery, and he'd thrived in the village. And where's Mike?

  Miriam had to suppress a groan. First he sends Theo to fetch her, then he disappears. So typical. He'd probably taken one look at the group, insulted the leader, and left the rest to her. The man was a textbook loner. Miriam was rarely in the village herself, but she was far better integrated.

  The way Mike sometimes looked at her when she talked about what was going on in the village suggested he didn't even know most people's names around here. Which he vehemently denied.

  When Mike reached the school, Sammy was already waiting for him impatiently. She shot him an extremely accusatory look. "Sorry, Sammy. We had unexpected visitors. Is your band practice over already?" Now she looked even more furious.

  Sammy hated the practice sessions she attended once a week with a few other kids. Which was a shame, because she was good on her willow pipe. She'd mastered painfully shrill notes early on. By now she could also hit gentle tones that were reminiscent of a recorder. But every minute she wasn't trying to ride Monty, that stubborn mule of a longneck, was wasted time in her eyes.

  When Maja told him about the practice sessions, he'd signed Sammy up on the spot. Since then, he brought the reluctant girl here once a week. Maybe this way she'd finally connect with others and stop following him everywhere. The other kids met up daily after class and played together. Sammy preferred to join him on his treks through the valley, train with him, or get thrown off Monty.

  When Mike carved, she painted. A loner of a little girl. "Come on, you rockstar. We need to hit the gardens before lunch," he said, ruffling her hair. "Maybe we'll have time to say hi to Monty later." Sammy's face lit up instantly. She beamed and ran ahead. Mike sighed. If only that stupid horse returned her affection a little more lovingly.

  Their once small longneck had grown enormously over the past few years. By now, he was nearly as large as the monstrous creatures that had once plagued Mike. Monty had the massive build of a warhorse, except his neck was over four meters long and consisted almost entirely of muscle. He could carry Sammy with ease, if he wanted to. But he didn't.

  Oh, he was happy to let her pet and groom him. But the moment she tried to climb onto his back, he tossed her off gently but unmistakably. Unfortunately, the animal also fancied himself quite the comedian. With unerring precision, Monty sought out particularly muddy spots to dump Sammy in. He's not the one who has to do the laundry.

  If Monty were less intelligent, Mike might have chalked it up to coincidence. But he could feel how much the game amused him. To make matters worse, Sammy tragically believed she was making progress, because every now and then Monty let her ride along for a few steps. But he was just looking for a suitable bush with a few thistles.

  Maybe he was still too playful and would eventually allow himself to be ridden. Mike feared, though, that longnecks were simply too intelligent for that. Monty didn't want to be a mount. Sammy would have to accept that eventually.

  Until then, there was no reason she shouldn't keep trying. They both enjoyed it, and Mike knew that Monty was genuinely careful with her. The crazy animal wasn't just proud and gleeful but also protective. To the longneck, Sammy was a youngling. He always kept an eye on her. That was a comforting thought for Mike.

  He cursed under his breath when they reached their little plot.

  Community gardens had sprung up in the forest behind the village. There were all sorts of berries and vegetables here. Flower beds too. The only thing they couldn't grow was fruit trees. Trees are off limits. Mike shook his head in confusion. Sometimes these strange, scattered thoughts just came over him.

  Players who had ventured deep into the valley had discovered all kinds of fruits and berries out there. Traders sometimes brought seedlings or seeds that found eager buyers at the marketplace. Alongside the native blueberries and mushrooms, they'd planted fields of wild strawberries, gooseberries, and raspberries, with the children enthusiastically helping the adults.

  Sammy was… less enthusiastic than the others. All around her, life was blooming in the other children's plots. Her plot, though, was a sorry sight. What are we doing wrong? They came here every day, watered the tomatoes, pulled weeds. Nothing helped. Stupid tomatoes.

  The other kids worked in small groups, tending their plots together. His little loner hadn't wanted to join any of them. Shy little thing, but she'll come around.

  They weren't just letting the kids romp around here for fun, though. It was, in a sense, vital that they did. The plants in the gardens grew at a staggering pace. Just like they once had everywhere in the valley, except those days were over. The flora across the valley was dying off more and more. After a long summer, a long autumn had descended on the valley. If their prayers went unanswered, a long winter lay ahead.

  But in these gardens, it was still summer. Children strolled through, worked in their plots, played in the tall grass, or snuck strawberries when nobody was looking. The gardens were every child's favorite place. And the children were the reason for the thriving vegetation.

  Mike could sense it clearly. Some children practically drenched the plants with their aura. Like fertilizer. It had started small, with individual plants that grew better than others. It hadn't been all that noticeable back then, because all the plants were still growing well. But over time, it became obvious.

  Especially among the youngest in the village, many developed this ability, those who, like Sammy, had lost all memory of the old world. By now, it was enough for these children to simply stroll through the plots on a regular basis.

  He'd hoped so badly that Sammy would have this ability too. So peaceful… But the girl simply wasn't developing a green thumb. Quite the opposite, her little plot was a wasteland amid green splendor. And the children with the gardening gift walked past this plot too.

  Mike scratched his head in bewilderment. Then he placed an encouraging hand on Sammy's shoulder. The girl gazed sadly down at her stunted tomatoes but kept stealing glances at a group of kids playing marbles in the grass. Smooth, polished round stones, right up her alley.

  "Hey, Sammy, what if you just went over and…" She shook her head firmly. He let it go with a sigh. Stubborn little thing.

  Mike did walk over briefly to warn the other children that players were in the village. The NPCs' hidden gardens couldn't become known, because the players' gardens were withering. Not a single player had developed a gardening ability. If they weren't careful, the children would be abducted and sold at the slave markets in Goldwater. Thankfully, hardly any player ever wondered what the NPCs in their village ate.

  "Come on, Sammy, let's go eat. The tomatoes… need a little more time." Sammy met his gaze skeptically but held out her hand expectantly. Mike took it with quiet resignation. He'd never understand why it was so important to her that he hold her hand when they walked into the village. She was quick enough to keep up with him easily. Probably just imitating what the other kids her age do.

  As they approached the center of the village, they could already hear loud voices from a distance. Mike considered sending Sammy to lunch on her own. He wasn't the right person to defuse conflicts. His patience with the players' nonsense was extremely limited. He had to put up with more of it than most, after all. He was just about to explain to Sammy that she'd better go without him when she tugged at his sleeve. "Don't chicken out," she said reproachfully. It was rare for Sammy to speak. But when she did, she never missed her mark. Mike smiled. I guess I have to lead by example.

  "I don't see what business you'd have with our cook. You can talk to me." Of course Miriam knew perfectly well what Samuel wanted from Boris. She looked at Max with disappointment, who was suddenly studying his shoes with great interest. At least he hadn't given away his little gardener friends.

  Among the support abilities, cooking was currently the most coveted. A cook was someone who let their aura infuse the ingredients. Meals prepared this way were more nutritious, longer-lasting, and tastier than ordinary food. Cooks could feed large numbers of people with small amounts of provisions. The more skilled the cook, the fewer ingredients they needed.

  Boris wasn't a high-ranking cook, but he knew his craft. Every day, he prepared meals that were enough to keep an adult full for several hours. Combined with the children's gardening ability, he was the key to getting the village through a long winter if it came to that.

  The Blazing Lion's guild hall was on the edge of Union territory. They were probably already burning through their supplies. But what cook would want to join the Blazing Lion? These days, cooks chose their guild, not the other way around.

  "With all due respect, Healer, but I don't need your permission to speak with an NPC."

  Miriam shook her head in irritation. "You know the agreement. The NPCs are off limits."

  Now it was Samuel's turn to shake his head. "There's no rule that forbids me from inviting an NPC to join our guild."

  Because something like that is almost unthinkable. The Blazing Lion had to be truly desperate if they were showing up here to poach an NPC. But she was probably overthinking it. She knew Boris. Let them make their offer.

  Lobby: a virtual waiting room where players gather before a game or round begins.