Page Fault

Part 2: Cracks

Elysium

Fifty knights in shimmering black armor stampeded across the ford at Vingol’s Spring, their destriers thrashing through the frigid waters and releasing plumes of steam from their hot underbellies. At the far western bank, their leader, a massive knight with a red plume protruding from the crest of his helmet, called for them to halt. He pulled his helmet off and looked the knights over. His blue eyes shimmered in stark contrast to his dark hair and coal-black beard.

“It’s been two moons, but at last we return to Casmir Vale. You have all done well. Now be at ease, my friends. We are home!”

The knights let out a great cheer and followed the lead of their captain. They shed their helmets, and the same legion that moments before had been charging through the forest, vigilant and silent, was now a boisterous crowd of friends, laughing and telling jokes of how much ale they meant to drink and what they meant to do when they finally got their women alone that night. That was the way of the Knights of Casmir Vale. In battle they did not speak. The silence unnerved their enemies who were wont to shout taunts and war cries. It added to their legendary status as lethal warriors, and few forces in all of Elysium, if any, were more feared than the black Knights of Casmir Vale. Back home, though, the knights were husbands, lovers, singers, philosophers, artisans—men who relished life and the rewards of making their city the jewel of Eredland. After having finally destroyed the tribe of ogres that had been marauding the surrounding forest villages, it was good to finally be going home.

Alas, it was not meant to be. As they rose up the last hill from Vingol’s Spring, they all stopped in horror. Their fair city was gone. No farms, no city walls, no bustling marketplace, no public arena, no theatre house, no public fountain, no homes or shops, no castle. Nothing. Their friends, their families, everything was gone, and in its place only blackness. Casmir Vale had become the edge of the world, a jagged line where meadowland fell into the Void.

Terra-serv

“Well?” Ambreen asked.

“Absolutely not,” Sepkowski told her, shaking his head at her from where he sat behind his desk on the top floor of the Central City Times office building.

“But—”

“No way in hell. People don’t want to be reminded that Central City is a sham. We start throwing stuff like that in their faces and they’ll stop reading our paper.” Sepkowski stuck out his tongue and shook one hand above his head. “They’ll go off and read Terra Today or something else equally mind-numbing.”

“People need to know what’s going on, chief.”

“What’s going on? Please. You don’t know what’s going on. You’ve got some aphrodillium addict claiming the Biagio family is selling body mods. Hardly breaking news.”

Ambreen grit her teeth. “I told you, it’s more than just the avatar mods. We’re talking entire mansions, ranches… god damned villas springing up on the outskirts of the Nord region, places where there shouldn’t be anything. The Biagios are spinning gold out of thin air. They’ve figured out how to get past Soteria’s safeguards, past Interserv. And for the record, Liam’s not an addict. That’s just his cover. He’s an Interserv informant.”

“Was an Interserv informant,” Sepkowski corrected her. “I know all about Liam Demps. He’s an addict. Tarleton exhausted that lead months ago.”

“So that’s it. It’s okay for Tarleton to pursue this story, but not me. It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it?” Ambreen hated pulling that card, but she was determined to get the okay on this story. She needed to find out what the hell was going on. People needed to know.