Chapter 117: Gardener of Misery

Chapter 117: Gardener of Misery

"Another quest says to 'defeat an enemy, while knocking out all of their pieces,'" Crucis said. "I'm not sure if the people making these quests know much about Arinos. But is there any way to complete this quickly? It sounds like it shouldn't take longer than one dialogue."

"The easiest way would be to play out a quick dialogue against the Simpleton," Fahiz replied. "We could do that now. Do you want to play the cobra again?"

"Why not a Dragon? I've already seen it used against a Simpleton, so I have some idea of how that would look."

"That makes sense, sure. I'll play a slightly aggressive, opportunistic, defiant Simpleton, so you just need to encourage me to move forwards and then kill me."

Fahiz handed Crucis the Dragon piece.

Enter SIMPLETON.

DRAGON. Why do you enter my lair? Is this another adventurer come to slay me?

SIMPLETON. I come in peace! No need to raise your voice like that, mister.

DRAGON. So you entered a dragon's lair to say hello? Reasonable.

SIMPLETON. Your voice is still so loud, are you still angry? It's even causing the cave to shake! You have such a short temper, I wonder why.

[Aside] I think he must be an Irishman. I can't see in this pitch-black cave, but I'm sure there's some short, angry red-haired man dressed in green in front of me. Ah, but I hate the Irish. They are a silly troupe of drunk dancers.

DRAGON. How did you know that I was Irish?

SIMPLETON. Elementary, my dear Watson.

[Pause]Ñøv€l--ß1n hosted the premiere release of this chapter.

DRAGON. ...Yes, and now are you going to explain?

SIMPLETON. Explain? Oh, yes. Why, Irishmen, don't you know them? They're known as a friendly folk, just like you!

[Aside] I deceive him in my own interests. For he seems quite large and fearsome, and I do not want to tell him what I think of his countrymen, in case it leads him to attack me. I am simply being pragmatic.

DRAGON. This is too much! You explained both your previous statement, and then your explanation itself. What a gentleman!

SIMPLETON. Why, thank you.

[Aside] I am not only a gentleman, I am the finest gentleman in the world. Now, look how politely I shall treat this dragon.

SIMPLETON swings a sword at the dragon, who was prepared and sends it flying away with a claw.

DRAGON. Alas, the treachery of such a gentleman! Et tu, Brute?

SIMPLE. Who's two? Actually, wait, I know this. 'Tu' is 'you' in French. I learned that in class. So you want to eat me!

DRAGON. Excellent deduction!

DRAGON eats SIMPLETON.

"What a sarcastic dragon," Fahiz said. "I was surprised when it suddenly pretended to be Irish."

"I enjoyed the overheard asides, and how oblivious your Simpleton was during them," Crucis said. "I guessed that you wanted me to act it out like that, since you delivered the asides quite theatrically?"

"Yes, I was hinting at that, but I think you played it out well."

"Thanks. So how would that have looked on the board?"

"Basically your Dragon, and then a bunch of rats in a vertical line towards the Simpleton, looking for an opportunity to target him. That's quite decent and economical. You notice the Simpleton trying to infiltrate, so you send forth the infiltrating Rat to intercept him at the entrance. These Rats spur him onwards until he dies."

"A sort of rat ray?" Crucis said.

"Yes, basically."

"Excellent. Someday this dragon will make a fine evil overlord."

"I also have this quest, can I try one out? I'll just use a Rat again, if that's fine," Danemy said.

"Sure," Fahiz said. "Well, last we saw your Rat, it was in Hell. How has Satan put it to work since then?"

"Not sure, running a factory?"

"Hm. Are there factories in Hell?"

"Blake spoke of 'dark Satanic mills,' so I think we can extrapolate that Hell probably has an industrial sector," Crucis said.

"Well, fair enough. Let's try this out."

SIMPLETON. Hello. Is there anyone who runs this factory? I would like to speak to them, because I have urgent concerns about the pollution that it is causing.

Enter RAT.

SIMPLETON. A pollutant, smoke-belching factory, filled with masses of rats? This is disgusting! Who could be responsible for running this place so badly?

RAT. Me. That's me. For we rats swarm through the smoggy factories of Hell, and run them, and are their workers. What do you wish to ask?

SIMPLETON. What kind of - this is ridiculous! You expect me to register my complaint with a rat?

RAT. Still no. But didn't I make that clear earlier?

SIMPLETON. Well, try your best. Ha, your best! You are only a rat! I doubt your best will be enough!

[Aside] I swear, if I walked away now he'd probably just ignore my suggestions. He has no guilt for what he has done, no guilt for breaking regulations. Rats! How I hate them!

RAT. How impolite.

SIMPLETON. And you know what else? I'm astounded! How dare you run this factory like this! Oooh, a rat, having basic decency and following government regulations? But I can't be nice and follow environmental regulations, I'm just a filthy rat!

RAT. No, you aren't. Stop bluffing. Don't try to rise above your station, punk.

SIMPLETON. How dare you! I'll have you arrested! Look, I didn't get my position as 'Environmental Safety Inspector and Holy Arbiter of Green Manufacture' for nothing.

RAT. Yes, in all likelihood you won everyone over with some sterling speech about rats. 'Rats! Rats! Rats!' Yes?

SIMPLETON. No, I was selected and promoted by people in important positions. And you don't want to mess with them. It pains me to say this, as I view myself as a voice of dissent talking sense to the elites, but I had to put aside such concerns in order to take up my role.

RAT. How did they prepare you for the role? Did they shove rats into your head?

SIMPLETON. No, why would they do that?

RAT. I read about it somewhere. If you're a real dissident, then they shove rats into your head. I guess you didn't merit it, then.

SIMPLETON. That's preposterous! Who ever heard of such a thing!

RAT. Well, me, clearly. Anyway, here is the vaccine for the shoot-out.

A vaccine and needle are rolled up by a rat from the factory.

RAT. Excellent. Now we can have the shoot-out. We shall see who can be vaccinated more over a short time-frame.

SIMPLETON. Excellent!

[Aside] I'd guess I might be able to win this. It plays to my strengths. Then maybe a new manager will take over from this rat, and will listen to me.

RAT. Alright, your jab is first. Take the vaccine, and inject it into your upper arm, around the deltoid muscle near your shoulder.

As the SIMPLETON enthusiastically but carefully raises the vaccine to their right arm, holding onto it with both hands, the RAT uses the opportunity and bites the SIMPLETON's ankle. He then shakes his fur a bit, sending a few fleas leaping onto the SIMPLETON's leg.

SIMPLETON. How dare you!

RAT. To be honest, the vaccine was just a placebo. So I just gave you a real jab to make up for it. Now you have the black plague, and cancer. Happy New Year!

SIMPLETON. Both at once?

RAT. Yes, when you are bitten by a rat from Hell and our fleas, you get not only the black plague, but also cancer as a bonus.

SIMPLETON. Drat!

The SIMPLETON falls to the ground, suffering intensely from disease, and then dies.

Crucis, who was casually inspecting the chessboard by Ala-ud-din, had been listening in on this game of Arinos with interest.

"Well done, guys," Crucis said. "That was quite exciting. A clever rat, as well."

"Thanks," Danemy replied, looking around. "By the way, do you know where Sharak went?"

"I think his room is around the back of this building, and can only be reached through the backdoor," Crucis said. "He went there to get some maps of Arcorus."

"Yeah, Sharak stays out the back, and I stay here," Fahiz said. "Someone has to keep an eye on the automatons, after all."

"Fair enough. Do you mind explaining this position, by the way? It's a bit complex, I'm not quite sure what it means."

"Is this for the dialogue between Lucifer and the Rat?"

"Yeah."

Crucis gestured towards the chessboard, where Ala-ud-din had laid out several Arinos pieces. Each player's pieces inhabited one half of the board.

Rat Cobra Jackal Rat Mountain Jormungandr Rat Dragon Rat Rat Mountain Jackal Rat Mountain

"That does look somewhat complex," Fahiz said. "Basically, your Lucifer positions himself as a Rat-like infiltrator of sorts, and starts enquiring of the other player to know more about his surroundings. However, he's also insistent on loyalty to the grandiose location, and hence the Jackal, which is sort of like a locational conscience or a more demanding Lynx. This leads to the Mountain - Jormungandr connection, since he portrays Hell as a mighty, mountain-like landscape to be wondered at, and at the same time functions as the mediator who frames this grandeur and insists on its recognition, hence as a sort of patriotic figurehead for it. Thus the Jormungandr. Finally, this Mountain was portrayed as a challenge to the interlocutor and hence is akin to an infiltration or Rat, but also a Dragon. That at least explains the position as you see it, though the AI probably applied some of the more arcane rules to get there quickly."

"Whew, that's quite a lot," Crucis said. "Alright, so how come most of my side is rats, but there's a couple of large pieces stacked on the far side, the Jormungandr and Dragon?"

"In a literal sense, because the demanding Jackal still uses the Mountain as a lever for its demands, and this is represented through the Jormungandr and Dragon. But it seems more likely that you're attempting to pressure the other side's right flank. That's not surprising, since you seem like a capable Assassin."

"What kind of pressure do you mean?"

"For instance, when the Rat attempted to start a sob story, Lucifer immediately balked and turned the discussion back to the terrain of Hell. Pieces here are right-handed, so by pressuring the right side you prevent them from stabilising. This turns back focus to the grandeur and destructive fires of Hell, rather than the other side's backstory or characterisation. Since Danemy acquiesced gracefully, he didn't expand further rightwards, though I think that's to his advantage because it helped keep his character more ratty and unpredictable."

"I see. Yeah, that sounds reasonable. By the way, these automatons are quite impressive, they can play chess, Arinos, and write all kinds of things. What else can automatons do here?"

"Well, there are some automatons in Arcorus which can sketch or even make paintings, sometimes even large paintings with multiple of them working in tandem. The Emperor was once a painter, but he holds some spite for the profession, and has had most professional artists killed and replaced by automatons. So if you head East, I'm sure you'll catch some of their artworks. They also have plenty to do various odd jobs, calculations, and other things alongside the undead."

"I heard that there was some sort of simple AI text game named 'Text Freihet' in Kruxol and other towns, which could be played on some screens at the Inn. Does that have any connection to the automatons?"

"No, that's a much simpler mechanism. Since anyone can run into it easily, it's not that creative or capable of producing unsettling content. So they just used a simple, pared-back version of the 'AI' which mostly gives generic answers. Unlike our automatons, it doesn't really learn or give new answers that haven't been vetted in advanced. Actually, there's something that we intended to ask about, if someone from Kruxol visited here. Would you guys mind doing us a favour when you go back?"