Dnoeth and Ramal sat with their legs dangling over the roadside and spoke about Ramal’s avatar. His Cold Iron Equilibrium had included a trait called Dynamic Variable. Ramal read the description aloud.

Trait (Locked, Very Rare) – Dynamic Variable: Within Kuora, elemental energies can be empowered and given temporary purpose with spell weaving. This purpose is determined by the pattern of the weave and the way it is bound. Your Cold Iron soul essence permeates the area around you, dynamically affecting all other essential energies. This dynamic impact is a variable that interferes with both the spell weave and its binding; as a result, all spell weaves collapse in your presence.

To unlock, awaken within yourself the elemental energies of earth, air, and water.

Note – This trait also makes it impossible for you to cast any elemental spell weaves.

“Holy Jehoshaphat,” Dnoeth exclaimed, turning to the man with eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “Ramal, you’re a mage’s nightmare. Hell, you could be a nightmare for us too. There’s nothing in there excluding allies.” Dnoeth silently wondered if the trait was just a curse, then that thought slipped out. “You’ll be a walking magical dead zone. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Ramal nodded at the frank appraisal. “Yeah, I had the same thought. I’m not worried about it though, got a feeling not everything’s in the description with it still being locked.” He indicated Dnoeth with a lift of his chin. “I think it’s a bit like your condition, and I’ll only get the full picture after I unlock it.”

Dnoeth’s furrowed brow said he wasn’t so sure. After a moment, he relaxed and nodded. “That’s got to be right. You’d be a magical pariah otherwise.” They fell quiet, both lost in thought, then Dnoeth asked, “Any idea how you awaken essential energies?”

“None.” Ramal shook his head. “I’ve never been a big magic-user in these games. I prefer my magic in enchanted weapons, mostly ranged ones.” He grinned and looked skyward. “One of my all-time favorites was my mana bow. That sucker packed one helluva punch and never ran out of arrows.”

“Wait. You had a mana bow?” Dnoeth said, shocked. “You mean in Novamen? The legendary reward for the Night Elf infiltration mission?”

Ramal chuckled and tilted back on his elbows. He absently noted the sun’s position in the sky–About four till sunset–then replied, “Yeah. That’s the one. That quest was tough.”

Dnoeth leaned away as his face twisted in disbelief, “Tough? That quest was impossible. Nobody, I mean nobody, in my guild could get past the prince. I didn’t know anyone had completed it. Most of us thought it was set up as a way to torture completionist players.”

Ramal chortled through a wry smile. “Yep.”

Dnoeth waited for more. When it became apparent that nothing would be volunteered, he prodded, “Ohhh, come on. You’ve got to tell me.”

“I do not,” Ramal replied, taunting him with an infuriating little grin.

“Arrgh. Seriously? Come on. Do you know how many times I failed that quest?”

“I’ll bet it’s a bunch. You’d never complete it, even if I told you. You’d have to reroll a whole new character. And you’re never gonna play Novamen again. Not while this is available.” He gestured across the vast land that was laid out in front of them.

Dnoeth hadn’t considered that, and he followed Ramal’s gesture, taking in the scene. He’s right. Why would I? Looking at his hands and turning them over, he again marveled at the realism. They weren’t just like hands–they were hands–right down to the fine dark hairs between the knuckles, lines in his palms, cuticles, and dirt beneath his nails.

He curled his fingers into a fist, watching the skin over his knuckles whiten and forearm muscles bunch. Then he turned his hand over, brushing his thumb along the tips of index and middle fingers. The sensitivity and realism were astounding. Novamen would feel like a pale imitation after this.

I am working for the owner of the company, he remembered. “I wonder if Bendik will give me a pod?” he mused; voice low.

Ramal started snickering. His mirth rose and then slide away with a knowing sigh. Dnoeth looked at him. “Why’s that funny? It doesn’t seem so unreasonable to me.”

The big man was gazing toward his knees and shaking his head. “I’m not sure you get it yet. The three of us, we’re some of the luckiest saps in the whole world. Bendik, he’s…” Ramal tailed off and looked to the sky, exhaling slowly.

“He’s just nothing like anyone you’ve ever known. I’d bet damn near everything I own that he’s the most powerful man in the world. Most people have no idea; they think he’s just an eccentric billionaire. And he is, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

Ramal considered, then grunted. “I honestly think he doesn’t even care about having power, other than what he can do with it. This place, as amazing as it is, it’s only one part of some grand scheme he has.”

Still back on his elbows, Ramal turned his head toward Dnoeth, peering across his shoulder. “Don’t even ask.” Then looked back to the sky. “I only know bits and pieces and won’t talk about it, not for all the money in the world. His trust and friendship are worth more than all of it.”

Dnoeth stared at his lap in thought. “I can get that about him.” For a moment he quieted, then added, “Not sure I would either.”

Silence held after that and Ramal let it, sensing there was more. When the younger spoke again, his words were delicate, testing the space between them. “You know that letter? The one from Dartmouth?” Dnoeth looked crosswise at him.

Ramal met his tentative look and offered a single nod. “That was quite a thing.”

Dnoeth looked away as tears gathered in his eyes. He took a deep shuddering breath. “Yeah.” The word came out choked, but he exhaled slowly, visibly settling a bit, and continued, “That letter. It handled so many things for us.” He snapped his fingers and whispered, “Just like that.”

Dnoeth regarded his hands in his lap. “I worked my balls off for four years. I’ve taken every advanced course available, done summer internships, and even got elected to the student council. I’ve run thousands of miles to get faster and puked before and after every major race. I’ve pushed myself to be the fastest in the state and be a standout in every way I knew how. Just for a shot at getting that letter. Just a chance. And, he just…”

Emotion threatened his eyes, and Dnoeth it. “He just showed up with it. Just gave it to me.” Wet lines ran down over his cheekbones then.

“Bendik didn’t give you that letter, Dnoeth. I know him better than almost anyone. He doesn’t just give away things like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Dnoeth’s expression tightened, confusion evident. Blinking first, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “He did. He gave it to me.”

“No. He didn’t. He doesn’t do that.” Ramal pushed up with one hand, rotating to look clearly at Dnoeth. “Bendik just recognized that you’d already earned it. That’s what he does–he sees people. The good ones he gathers to his cause, then he gives them what they need to grow–to become more than they thought they could be.”

Ramal watched his words land, then settled back onto his elbows. “I’ve been there when he’s recruited some of the most brilliant people in the world. It’s pretty extraordinary to see, honestly. You’re on the team now, both of you. And you’re not going to quit, and he’s not going to kick you off. You’re in this for as long as it takes. That’s who you are; you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

Dnoeth didn’t know how to respond. He felt dwarfed by the vision Ramal painted. Its scope, its unity, and its intent were too much for his mind to hold. All of it being crafted by one man. Feeling small, he remembered sitting at his kitchen table. He remembered Bendik’s doodled explanations of quantum gates and molecular manipulation. He remembered the man’s larger-than-life presence, energy, and infectious enthusiasm. He recalled mugs of tea turned cold, still half-full, because they were both completely enwrapped in the conversation.

He remembered, taking in the scene laid out before him, and slowly, Dnoeth smiled. He could play his part; he could be on this team. Looking back toward Ramal, he caught the big man smiling too.

“Don’t tell me about it,” Ramal said, holding up a hand. “Keep that, hold onto that memory and feeling, you’re going to need it, and it needs to be yours.” After a long moment, he added two words, “Court Bard.”

It took Dnoeth a second to catch up, then his eyes got wide, “No way. Wait, that’s not even a class.”

“It’s not a starting class.” Ramal corrected as smile lines bunched about his eyes. “Didn’t you ever wonder why the Bard’s College in Roenheath was boarded up?”

“Yeah, I’ve been through that place, though. There’s a trick latch on a window in the south tower. I swept it top to bottom. It’s deserted.”

“Can’t go in that way,” Ramal said, shaking his head. “Takes you to a split dimension of the place. There’s an antique door knocker you can buy from the vendor cart in the square. It’s not always there; you need to be patient. And there’s a handful of rusted nails that you get from a quest with the farrier that’s set up on the road down to the docks. You know that guy with the peg leg.”

Dnoeth nodded, “Right. I’ve seen that thing, and I had the nails too. Traded them to some wandering merchant who needed them to fix his wagon, he gave me a sweet dagger for them.”

“Yep,” Ramal replied with a smirk. “The wandering merchant.”

Dnoeth sat up, posture slightly piqued. “What? That trade was a no-brainer. I still use that dagger; it has a +20% loot buff. It’s one of my best weapons.”

Ramal cocked his brow. “It is better than my mana bow?”

“No, course not.” Dnoeth retorted as if the answer was obvious, which of course, it was. “The mana bow is one of the six transcendent weapons in the game. But it’s like bigfoot, too cool to be real.” He scowled. “At least it was until now.”

Ramal nodded. “That merchant is the head of the Bard’s College. He shows up if you’ve had those nails in your inventory for too long and makes you some offer you can’t refuse. But, every new moon, after midnight, and only if you’re alone, if you use them to hang the knocker on the side gate, he’ll answer. It gets a bit dodgy after that, but, long story short, if you pass the trials, you get a class change option.”

“Why doesn’t anyone know about this?” Dnoeth asked, floored by the hidden quest in Novamen.

“Most people never figure it out. The wandering merchant trade deal gets most people. Players that do figure it out have to agree to certain conditions to get the class change. One of them is a vow of secrecy.”

Ramal leaned toward Dnoeth with a conspiratorial smirk. “You can’t even talk about it in the real world. Now that I’ve told you, I'll lose the class the minute I log back in. Probably have a bounty on my head too.”

“What?!” Dnoeth said in disbelief. “That’s impossible. How would the game know what you said in the real world?”

“That game is in your head Dnoeth. It’s not this good, but it’s full immersion. What makes you think it can’t detect a lie or gather dirty little secrets from your brain?”

The younger man’s face paled, eyes going wide. “What…” He swallowed hard. “C’mon, you’re just screwing with me, right?”

“I’m not,” Ramal said with a penetrating look. “No more Novamen for you, not for any of us. We’re living inside one of Texier Quantum’s most important pieces of tech. We can’t risk exposing data about this place.”

Dnoeth reeled, shaking his head slowly. “Wait. Hold on.” He turned to Ramal, leaning in, brow drawn down, one cheek pulled back parting his lips slightly. “What do you do for Bendik?”

“I protect stuff,” Ramal’s reply was curt.

“I already figured that out. But it also seems like you protect important stuff. You said you know him better than almost anyone, and you also said he’s a close friend, and he trusts you. You must know some top-secret stuff. How could you play Novamen if the game was in your head stealing secrets from your mind?”

“I have modified gear that protects the Texier secrets I know. Got it from the boss. It’s trash now though, the affect on my brain from being here…” He took a second, eyes distant and intense. “This place is changing us Dnoeth, for the better, but I suspect those changes will be a spotlight for the Novamen software.” Ramal harumphed, smirked a crooked smile, and bobbed his head. “This is perfect, actually. It’ll help you get a grasp on the scope of what the big guy is up to.”

Ramal met Dnoeth’s gaze. “The Bard’s College code was written by a guy that Bendik recruited from Total BlaQ. As far as they know, it’s a bit of persistent malicious code that they’ve managed to wall off from the game world.”

He sat forward, brushing dirt from his elbows. “They can’t get rid of it, even though they’ve tried multiple times to patch it out. From their perspective, it’s like a benign tumor in the brain of their game. It doesn’t seem to be doing anything harmful, and the potential damage from removing it could be catastrophic, so they’re content to leave it.”

Ramal held out his hands, palms up. “In truth, it does two things.” He lifted the left and beheld it. “First, it siphons off the information that Novamen gathers from its players.” Then he lifted the right and looked at Dnoeth, eyes serious. “Second, it’s a recruiting tool for Bendik.”

Dnoeth thought, connecting dots, and beginning to see how large the real-world plans of Bendik Texier might actually be. One thing didn’t sit right for him, though. The tech mogul had said that Kuora’s purpose was to help heal humanity through their interaction with the game world. A function that was possible because of its empathic QI, Elle. But, given what he’d learned from Olli, something about that seemed incomplete.

It was an admirable and incredibly ambitious design purpose. And in the short time Dnoeth had been in Kuora, he was beginning to understand. For him, having to confront the Champion without a Cause condition was an exercise in self-reflection and learning. Just the one conversation about it had made him acutely aware of how much his confidence was impacted by comparing himself to Ramal and Roxy.

But why would that make it one of Texier Quantum’s most important technologies? Groundbreaking and worthy of a Nobel Prize, almost definitely. But would Bendik consider it one of his most essential technologies for that reason alone?

Maybe… but I doubt it. Dnoeth thought, nodding to himself, then decided to drop the line of thinking. If he needed to know more, Bendik would tell him.

He turned back to Ramal. “So, you got a class change. How did that help? Did you juggle your way into the prince’s bed chamber?”

Ramal rocked back with a small chortle. “Nah. Bards have a lot of skills. Most of them having nothing to do with telling jokes or juggling.”

“Ok, you two.” Roxanna interrupted them. “This is all I can make.” She extended an armful of what looked like petrified sticks. Ramal jumped up, obviously done with the conversation.

Dnoeth’s expression soured, annoyed that he didn’t get a complete answer, he made a note to ask again later. Standing, he took one of the weapons–it was basically a stone stick. It didn’t look very dangerous, and judging from Roxy’s drooping mouth, she agreed.

Ramal, on the other hand, was quite happy with them. He took a minute to become acquainted with their balance by running through a series of short, quick thrusts and strikes. Then he instructed Dnoeth and Roxanna, running them through a few simple drills.

After Ramal was satisfied they could at least strike and defend with a modicum of skill, they stopped. “You’ll get a much better sense of how dangerous these can be after you’ve had a chance to use them in a fight.”

To demonstrate the potential damage, he asked Dnoeth to be a test dummy. Dnoeth agreed, not thinking much of it, and Ramal struck him twice in rapid succession, once on the thigh and once on the upper arm with short, quarter speed swings that were more like casual flicks of the wrist.

The pain nearly put Dnoeth onto his knees, and he limped about for a couple minutes, clutching his arm and cursing Ramal.

When he’d recovered, Ramal resumed command. “We need food and water. And, I don’t think we’re going to find it on this road.” He indicated the clifftop. “I flew up there earlier. It’s a lush, dense forest, and there’s sure to be some edible plants. We may even be able to kill some game too. With some skins, gut, and a bone needle, we could make a couple of rough water containers, which we’re going to need.

He looked at Roxanna, “Has the third eye changed at all, Roxy?”

“It has.” She pointed into the cliff at an angle that was closer to perpendicular than before. More noticeably, she was now pointing slightly down. “Mr. Darkfire seems to be moving away from the road and downward. Although I have no idea how far away.”

Her face twisted with slight bitterness. “The name third eye makes this thing sound mystical and powerful. It’s really just an annoying red dot that would be vastly improved with a range indicator.”

Dnoeth considered that statement. Then he thought about the distance problem. They’d basically been stationary, and he could estimate time and the angular shift of the third eye pretty quickly. He could make a decent guess at the travel velocity of the Darkfyre guy, presuming he was on foot, but that really wasn’t enough.

I need Darkfyre’s travel direction; otherwise, it’s just too much variability, Still, Dnoeth enjoyed having gone through the brief mental exercise. Using math and physics to explain how the world worked made him happy.

Looking up from his contemplation, Dnoeth found his companions regarding him silently.

“Think up anything useful?” Ramal queried.

“Nah, too many variables.”

Ramal raised a brow at that while Roxy smiled knowingly. “He’s something of a math whiz.”

Dnoeth didn’t like to dwell on his skill with numbers; people got strange about it, so he redirected, “Well, let’s go get some food. We’re armed with killer stone sticks that I’m certain will be underestimated by any foe we find. Plus, I’d like to avoid my, you didn’t eat your vegetables, debuff if possible, and this mysterious Mr. Darkfyre is out there somewhere, unknowingly in desperate need of Ink’s love note.”

“Well put, bud,” Ramal said, then extended a hand in offering to hold their batons. “Shall we?”

Turning to the vertical wall of stone, Roxy got to work making handholds, and they began to ascend.