It was Valgrin’s turn to draw Malcolm's attention. The Ice Elf's blue skin seemed paler than usual, his lean frame trembling slightly as he backed away from the others. “It’s not like that!” He pleaded. “Give me a second to explain.”
The chaos seemed to swallow Valgrin’s words, Malcolm decided he must be the only one to hear his friends words.
"Everyone, please," Malcolm called out, his calm voice cutting through the din. "Take a second, does Valgrin being the Black Dove, here, make any sense? Why would he confess something that the Black Dove has gone to great lengths to hide? And besides that you’ve been around him long enough to know he’s not the type to do something like this."
Valgrin caught Malcolm's gaze, relief evident in his ice-blue eyes. The elf steadied himself with a long inhale, his pointed ears flicking nervously as the commotion around them gradually subsided. When Ylnah and Skwilly moved to his side, Malcolm saw the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, and the corner of his mouth lift in a brief smile.
"The Black Dove," Valgrin began, his voice barely above a whisper, "was part of a game campaign. One that Malcolm ran, back home. When you knew us as Creators and we didn’t know about this place at all."
Malcolm's brow furrowed as he searched his memories. I remember it barely, I hope he gives me enough for my brain to latch on to.
“Anyway, he asked me to let my character become cursed, without the other players knowing. I created the Black Dove as an alter ego, a way for my character to act in secret.” Valgrin paused and looked around the room. “Then I went about taking over the kingdom. As the Black Dove, I wasn’t nice.” Valgrin paused then stammered out, “I…I enjoyed being the bad guy in someone else’s campaign.”
As Valgrin spoke, fragments of memory began to surface. Slowly piecing themselves together in Malcolm's mind. He remembered late nights hunched over character sheets, eating pizza, plotting twists and turns for his friends to navigate. Pizza, damn I miss pizza.
"The goal," Valgrin continued, his gaze fixed on Malcolm, "was for my character to take over the throne without the others discovering he was cursed or that he was the Black Dove."
Malcolm nodded slowly, the memories crystallizing. "I remember," he said. "It was meant to be the campaign's big reveal, the twist no one saw coming. And it worked, I was quite proud of what we pulled off."
Izzy dropper her chin to her chest and then looked back up, shoulders still tense. “Tired and emotional. I’m sorry for getting upset. React first, then clean-up the mess if I can, that’s my default it seems. Overly sensitive, I guess. But as Malcolm pointed out this doesn’t fit what I know of you.”
Valgrin's shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. "After what happened with Tahlur, I can't blame anyone for being on edge or doubtful of someone’s motives. Trust doesn't come easy these days, we’ve all seen to much betrayal." The corner of his mouth twitched upward briefly. "Besides, I've had my share of outbursts since we arrived in this place." His fleeting smile faded as his gaze dropped to the floor.
Malcolm clapped his hands once, sharply. The sound cut through the tension like a knife. "Let's take a breath, everyone. Food and some rest first, strategy after." He gestured toward the table, as if physically redirecting the conversation.
Izzy rose from her chair, one eyebrow raised. "Okay, except we’ve eaten—leftovers in the corner if you need more.”
Malcolm's smile turned sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah. Well. Food and laziness—my go-to solutions." Is this coming across as stupid as it sounds? As long as it slows everyone down enough to let their brains kick in.
Izzy paused for a second longer, her lips twitching at the corners before she snorted once, then doubled over. Her laughter echoed off the walls as Valgrin's shoulders began to shake, then Malcolm's chest rumbled, until even Ylnah's musical giggle joined the chorus. Tears streamed down Deeah's face as she gasped for breath, clutching her sides. When one person's laughter finally ebbed, another's would surge again, setting off fresh waves that left them all wiping their eyes and struggling to breathe. An unexpected moment of catharsis.
Just as the room quieted to occasional sniffles and deep breaths, Skwilly's ears twitched in confusion. He blinked and shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever understand any of you." The deadpan delivery from the priggy sent Izzy into a fresh fit, doubling over and setting off another chain reaction around the table.
While catching her breath and wiping her eyes, Ylnah asked, “We know it’s not Valgrin, but who or what is it? And how does it all tie to Tahlur and Drathnor?"
Malcolm paced, his thoughts churning, leaving the laughter behind. "We need to approach this logically. What do we know for certain? And do we really want to do this now? I mean we just got back from the swamp." Logic? Me? I’m the guy who lost himself stabbing Tahlur repeatedly. He shuddered at the memory of the dagger plunging, his hands covered in blood.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"Well, it seems this Black Dove is Drathnor's boss," Deeah chimed in. “And, if it’s where the discussion leads, might as well talk about it while we can remember.”
"Right," Malcolm nodded, shaking his head to get back to the present. "So we're dealing with two threats now. Drathnor and this Black Dove.”
Ylnah looked up from the table, “You, I mean we, have always been dealing at two threats—just didn’t have a name for the other one.”
“True.” Malcolm nodded, “Something that just struck me as odd, two of our game storylines converge into one story. Drathnor and his lycanthropic campaign came from Valgrin. The Black Dove came out of my dungeon. Two entirely different worlds from the game side. Only similarity is Valgrin created both characters."
Valgrin's eyes widened, “Didn’t catch that. Could just be the fifty-fifty odds and my two were picked. But we should not lose track of the idea that it’s more weighted to my side of creating. With a larger sample size, may show up to just be how it worked so far. And now that you bring it up, there weren’t any lycanthropic elements to our swamp adventure. Drathnor, at least as I wrote him up, wouldn’t have missed the chance to show his power by involving some werewolves, or some other were-creature.”
"Something I didn't catch." Malcolm tapped his fingers against his thigh, his brow furrowing deeper with each tap. "Wonder if it's been so long that the were-stuff has fallen apart? Maybe? Tahlur wasn't a lycanthrope, at least he didn’t show any signs." He stopped mid-pace, shoulders tensing as he dragged both hands through his hair. His jaw clenched, and a sound escaped his throat—something between a sigh and a growl. His eyes suddenly widened, and he straightened, index finger raised. "Fred," he whispered, nodding to himself.
Valgrin raised an eyebrow. "You're not thinking of..."
"I am," Malcolm confirmed. "He's been involved with us, even before we knew this was more than a game. If anyone might have insight into this, it's him."
Izzy frowned. "Can we trust him, though? After everything that's happened? He is, remember, one who was in this from the beginning. For all we know he’s the one behind everything."
Malcolm's shoulders sagged as he exhaled, the lines around his eyes deepening. He slowly rubbed his hands together. "We'll have to be cautious," he said, his voice dropping to match the sudden heaviness in the room, "but right now it seems the only play." He glanced at each face around him before continuing. "Someone needs to contact Ggyllum. See if the Structure will even let us near Fred."
<
Thanks, Sandy. Did you let him know what we wanted from him?
<
Awesome. Again, thank you.
“Sandy just informed me she’s handled contacting Ggyllum. We’re waiting his reply.” Malcolm announced to the room.
As the group began to discuss the logistics of contacting Fred, Malcolm caught sight of Valgrin. His friend sat motionless, gaze fixed on nothing, the usual vibrant blue of his skin now closer to matching the washed-out blue of a winter sky before snow.
"Hey," Malcolm said softly, moving closer to his friend. "You okay?"
Valgrin blinked, focusing on Malcolm. "I hadn't thought…" He swallowed hard. "What if this ties back to me specifically? If I hadn't created the Black Dove, or Drathnor... but then again, why would it be my fault? I was just doing my job as gamemaster, creating villains like we always did."
Malcolm opened his mouth to reassure him, then closed it, his own face clouding. "I want to tell you not to go down that road," he said finally, "but hell, I've been asking myself the same questions. We couldn't have known, and yet..." He sighed, "What matters now is how we deal with it. I brought it up to find a connection, not to blame you—though I can see how it sounded that way, sorry."
Placing a reassuring hand on Valgrin's shoulder, Malcolm felt the tension in his friend. "Look," he said, his voice low and steady, "we just took down Tahlur. That's a huge win, and we earned some breathing room." Just forget I went psychopath on him. And would do it again, which worries even me. I hope the help I got in the swamp sticks. “Let’s do what I said, and ignored, a few minutes ago and sit, eat, and relax.” Malcolm patted Valgrin’s shoulder. "We've got time," his words loud enough for the others to hear. "Time to plan, time to gather intel, time to heal."
Izzy walked over to stand next to Malcolm, her usual swagger tempered by the gravity of the situation. “Hey, fearless leader, more food should be here in a few, they’re bringing it down now. I vote for us all to grab a seat and try to forget this for a little while.”
Malcolm turned to address the group, noting how even Skwilly and Ylnah, silent throughout their earlier discussion, now leaned in with rapt attention. "First, I am not, and let me repeat this, not your fearless leader. Second, I concur lets eat and come back to this later.”
###
Malcolm leaned back, chair creaking as he patted his full stomach. "Not our usual laugh-fest, but I needed that." Around the table, heads bobbed in agreement. He straightened, shoulders squaring. "Right. Back to it then. Let's focus on what's concrete," he said, his voice finding its footing with each word. "Drathnor's probably scrambling after what we did to Tahlur. That's our opening."
"And Fred?" Deeah interjected, her brow furrowed with concern.
Malcolm took a deep breath, weighing the risks. "We approach carefully. I would expect Ggyllum will allow a meeting, and hope like heck he gives us good info."
As he spoke, Malcolm's fingers traced the scar on his palm—a wound from their battle with the almost-chicken that should have been nothing more than dice rolls and stat checks back on Earth. He caught Valgrin's eye across the table and saw the same disbelief there. His throat tightened as he looked at the faces turned toward him, waiting for direction. The weight of their expectant gazes made his shoulders ache more than any pack he'd ever carried.
"We've overcome so much already," he continued, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his friends. "Tahlur's betrayal, the battles we've fought... they've made us stronger. Now we use that strength to unravel this mystery and face whatever comes next."
The room hummed with a mix of anticipation and resolve. Malcolm watched, gladdened, but still worried. Need to get Valgrin or Izzy to take back this leadership thing. I’m supposed to be the smartass of the group, not in-charge.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get to work. We've got plans to make and a world to save."