“Is this an assumption?”
“This is my theory. We’re acting in line with his plan, playing his game. It’s a trap, my friends. A deadly snare.”
“So...what are you suggesting?”
“There are no other options. Only...stop the game at the right moment.”
All of a sudden, they exchanged worried looks — three people imprisoned in the bodies of NPCs standing on an arched gallery amidst rose skies. Distant explosions reached their ears as players celebrated their triumph. Everything seemed fine, but they couldn’t help thinking that somewhere, someone was holding them in their crosshairs.
Epilogue
THINGS WERE WORKING OUT for us, but the war wasn’t over yet.
After sustaining the biggest defeat in their history, the Pandas scattered across many worlds. Phantom never returned, and disjointed clans bereft of their leader prepared to defend their own castles and outposts. Having lost Atrocity, they wanted to keep what they had. The Watchers regained control over the Cloud Castle — Mook’s raid captured it in a sudden attack just as we battled in the Astral Plane. Our former holdings were still under the control of Pandorum’s vassals — the Polish, Scandinavian, and German clans weren’t going to give up without a fight. They didn’t have the support of an invincible astral fleet anymore, but they were still angry and stubborn opponents. A long and drawn-out fight for each territory and outpost was still ahead.
After dealing Pandorum a dramatic blow and having fun on the forums, our coalition had reached its goal. However, victory had pushed us to our limits, and everyone was exhausted. At that moment, the most important thing was to secure the status quo and avoid getting into a prolonged conflict. For the time being, the enemies had fled, disheartened by their crushing loss, but soon, they would gather once again, replenishing their funds, building more ships, stocking up on fuel. Remembering their past mistakes, they would come to us to take revenge. After all, the most important thing in Sphere wasn’t money, resources, or territories. It was people.
This subject was brought up at the celebration.
“Well then,” Joker said, raising his glass, “we beat them hollow, destroyed their alliance, and took their home and name. Right?”
“Right!”
“But even with our goals reached, this isn’t the end. Now we have a bitter and uncompromising enemy whose only dream is of revenge. Sooner or later, they will stab us in the back.”
Joker put the glass on the table, never taking a sip, and looked over the audience. The leaders of the Northerners, NAVY, and Hird were silent, waiting for him to go on.
“We have to avoid this scenario. Be flexible. I know you’re going to argue that, but let’s stay one step ahead of ourselves. I suggest...”
Joker, the secret leader of NAVY, was a skilled politician. He masterfully manipulated people’s minds and struck where they were vulnerable. Thanks to a network of spies in enemy ranks, he knew that the clans that had formerly comprised Pandorum were alienated and discouraged. They remembered old grievances and started looking for the reason for their defeat. The Russian wing of Pandorum, Jerkhan and his Steel Guard, became one of the main scapegoats. Ostensibly, it was their escape from the battlefield that became the root cause of the defeat. The Stormbringer’s maneuver had allowed them to retain one-third of the fleet, but the clan was demonized and blamed for everything, including conspiring with the enemy. There was no basis for that, of course, but people needed a punching bag. Panther’s ethnicity added fuel to the flames, giving rise to a wave of xenophobia.
Therefore, the decision made by our coalition’s war council at first glance seemed counterintuitive. Instead of dealing the killing blow to the fallen enemy, we decided to help them pick up their banner — and do it in such a way as to split their alliance into several warring camps, creating a hotbed of tension for many years ahead. At the same time, we would paint ourselves as knights in shining armor, graciously throwing a lifeline to our opponents.
Of course, Joker wasn’t driven by honor rather than the tried and true “divide and conquer” principle, not to mention financial concerns — nobody was going to return Pandorum’s castle and tag for free.
First, the vassal clans in Dorsa would have to vacate the occupied territories and retreat beyond the demarcation line.
Second, the Pandas would cede some of their own holdings, including several ellurite mines (in reality, those objects had already been captured by our raiders, making this a formality.)
Third, an official treaty of neutrality signed with Pandorum’s new leadership detailed the redistribution of power.
Some also wanted to demand contribution, but that seemed a bit too much in light of the countless trophies claimed in Atrocity. There were other ways of fleecing the Pandas for more money, such as making a contract for delivering them the indispensable ellurite.
So what did the Pandas get in return? Simple: their name, Pandorum and Euthanasia tags, and their capital — the astral fortress of Atrocity. After the euphoria was over, we realized that despite all the prestige it provided, Atrocity was a burden too heavy to bear. To maintain the castle and make up for the expensive logistics, one had to live there, keeping a permanent garrison and a large fleet. The Astral Plane was a highly peculiar place, and few wanted to remain there for good.
So how had I learned all this? Simple: I was the one tasked with negotiating with Jerkhan.
* * *
“Jerry, we have guests. They want to speak to you.”
“What guests? From where?”
“You’ll be surprised.”
Roa stepped aside, letting a visitor pass into the admiral’s cabin on the Stormbringer.
“You?! How did you find us?” Jerkhan growled.
“Does it matter?” The guest smiled. “What matters here is why.”
Jerkhan gnashed his teeth. The ogre’s hand fell
