Oh, crap! Dallion thought as he looked at the actions his opponent had done.

So far, the Archduke hadn’t entered a single structure. Instead, he was creating a wide perimeter, circling a large chunk of the room. As he walked, the tiles beneath him lit up in a deep blue. The echo continued for several more steps until he suddenly stopped, then turned in Dallion’s direction and waved.

“I see you’ve got a head start,” the echo shouted. “Good play. I hope I’m able to keep up.”

The compliments were false. Dallion could tell that he was in a catching up position. As he had seen, convincing people was easy. A far greater challenge was reaching them. That’s why his missions were so insignificant back when he was an apprentice hunter. It wasn’t because of his skills—those were good; everything else, though, needed some work. The rest of the hunters Dallion knew from Nerosal had left to other provinces, becoming quite famous. According to the rumors, one of them had even become a count’s personal hunter. In contrast, Dallion refused job offers when offered to him.

Dallion rushed back down and out to the street. He had gained the support of five people so far, but only two-thirds of the city to play with. Given the current development, it was too late to carve out parts of it for himself. With the Archduke’s head start, the only thing he could do was win enough small battles before the rest of the city was sealed off to him.

Zigzagging through the streets, Dallion convinced another three guild masters and two merchants before he reached the next fortress. The opinion of the local captain was somewhat better than the first, although it still came to a battle—one that Dallion won with ease.

The joy was short-lived. It didn’t take Dallion climbing up to the top of the fort to find that the Archduke had carved off three quarters of the room.

Everything that’s visible is an illusion, Dallion thought.

To a random observer, there would be no doubt that Dallion was favored to win; he had roughly a fifth of the support needed for control of the city, while his opponent had yet to convince a single person. Such reasoning was incorrect.

Dallion considered whether to attack the Archduke directly. There was nothing in the rules that said that he couldn’t, although that was a sign of desperation. The worst part was that Dallion knew it, but still wasn’t sure that he had any other option. If things continued along the current trajectory, he was certain to lose. Going against the archduke gave him at least a theoretical chance.

“Is there anything you can help me with?” Dallion asked the small group walking along behind him. It was slightly unnerving having them follow him anywhere he went, but he had started to get used to it.

“Every action has its price,” one of the guild masters said. “I can help you go over the Archduke’s path, but it’ll cost you my support.”

“You’re going to turn sides because of that?”

“No.” The echo shook his head. “If I break promises in your stead, I’ll lose my influence, which means you’ll lose it as well.”

“In other words, I’ll be sacrificing you.”

This wasn’t a desirable outcome. Dallion had to think a bit. If he sacrificed one person to go through the Archduke’s blockade, he could snatch another group of followers. The issue was that in doing so, he’d only box himself further in.

Dallion went through the calculations. Even in a best-case scenario, it wasn’t going to be enough. The Archduke had made sure of that, dividing the room into a series of small segments. In order to go through them all, Dallion was going to have to sacrifice more than a few people, and he suspected that with each next sacrifice, it was going to become more and more difficult to convince new people to join him. After all, who’d want to join someone who would sacrifice them at the first opportunity?

“How long have you been playing this game?” Dallion shouted in the direction of the Archduke.

“I thought you didn’t want to ask any questions,” came the reply.

“I changed my mind.”

“Ever since I passed the second gate. My father wanted me to feel a bit of strife until I got a proper education. But the real game started once I passed level eighty. Up to then, it was like a large training session. The same you’re doing right now.”

And I’m probably making the same mistakes, Dallion thought.

“Do I have a chance to win?” he asked.

“The trial’s still going, so who knows? Maybe I’m just bluffing and you’ve been in the lead all the time?”

As nice as that sounded, Dallion knew it not to be true. He had messed up in the same fashion he’d often done: focusing on the battle while ignoring the war. That was part of the problem. As a “piece” he only had battles. Up to recently, he couldn’t even tell what the wars were.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a draw?” The Archduke mocked.

“Won’t I lose, if I do?”

“Good catch. Yes, you will. The goal of the trial is to win, so even a draw is considered a loss.”

“That’s not how real life works..”

“That’s exactly how real life works. The one who asks for the draw is the one who’s lost, even when both sides are just as weak. It shows you didn’t have the nerves to let the other side make the move first.”

The logic sounded twisted, but there was also some truth to it. In this world of concepts and illusions, such an action would indeed be perceived as weakness. Many would constantly wonder whether the other side had accepted due to necessity, or because they had won the war behind the scenes and were giving their opponent a way to save face.

Now you see why so few engage in the game of politics, dear boy, Nil chuckled. Intrigue, manipulation, and strength are all mixed into one, and you must be strong on all fronts, less you fall.

I don’t suppose you have any advice for me on this, Nil?

No one else can pass your trials for you, dear boy. I can assist, but not do the work for you.

No, I suppose you can’t.

With a sigh, Dallion continued along through the streets. This time he made a straight line of line, blocking the Archduke from entering the territory he had. His opponent understood that and proceeded to enter his first house. Shortly after, Dallion did the same.

A new phase began in which each side went on to gather support in the most efficient way. Once more, the Archduke was considerably better at it. It wasn’t that he used as many skills as Dallion, or even had them. All he had to do was merely pointing out how much of the room he had cordoned off for himself to get people to pledge loyalty.

By the time Dallion had amassed thirty followers, the Archduke had thirteen. The difference was that there were three buildings remaining in Dallion’s section, while close to fifty in that of his opponent.

“What if I refuse to continue?” Dallion asked loudly. “Won’t I win by default?”

“You’re looking at this as a game. It isn’t. If you kill a beast in the wilderness, but refuse to hunt again, does that make you the greatest hunter for the next three generations? If you deliberately stall, your supporters will lose faith in you.”

“You didn’t say that before.” Dallion clenched his fists.

“I didn’t know I had to say the obvious. Refusing to go on is the same as quitting the trial. We’re not talking about taking some time to think, although in the real world, that would be penalized as well. Whatever strategic mistakes you made, either fix them or give up.”

Dallion felt anger built up within him; anger at himself for considering such a way out. It was as if he’d reverted to being the confused boy when he had first arrived in Nerosal.

Stay calm, Dallion told himself. Granted, he didn’t understand much about politics, but that didn’t seem to be the point of the trial. Having the knowledge always went a long way to completing a trial easily, but it wasn’t obligatory. There was always a way to pass a trial, often more than one.

“If it were easy, everyone would become a noble,” Dallion said, then went in the direction of the temple.

Up until now, he had left the building untouched. When it came to real life, temples were strange. Strictly speaking, they weren’t part of the empire or the local noble, but they didn’t control anything, either. It was a well-established fact that they didn’t particularly like hunters, although they disliked nobles even more.

When Dallion arrived at the temple, the Archduke had gained another five supporters, putting him only ten behind.

“Stay here,” Dallion said to the crowd accompanying him and entered.

Same as all the buildings till now, this one too was plain, occupied by a single echo wearing a crown. Apparently, Dallion’s subconscious viewed the Order as being the real ruler of the world.

“Hello,” Dallion began. “I’d like the Order to lend me its support.”

“The Order?” the cleric asked.

“I know a thing or two about the Order. If a city bishop lends me his support, that is the same as all clerics lending it.” And half the awakened as well, Dallion added mentally.

“You know what you’re asking, right?”

“Perfectly.”

“And you’re still making such an absurd request?”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Begging is the last refuge of incompetence.” The cleric found, as a large ball of disappointment and disgust formed in his body.

“I thought violence was the last refuge.”

“Begging is what follows unsuccessful violence.”

“You haven’t even asked what I have to offer.”

“Look. I don’t particularly like you. I acknowledge your skills, and the fact that you’re favored by a Moon. Aside from that, there’s nothing you can do to convince me to lend you my support, let alone ask the bishop to do so.”

“I’ll give the city to the Order.”

A dozen of emotions flared up within the cleric. This wasn’t an offer someone usually did. The only thing that nobles strived for was control, especially those in charge of settlements. The only exceptions were caretakers and village chiefs, but even they had ambitions to become something more.

“Are you sure about this?” the cleric asked. “Once you make the offer, you won’t be able to take it back.”

“Why would I? I’m a hunter. What good is a city to a hunter?”

The cleric looked at Dallion sideways, as if trying to make up his mind whether to believe him or not. His emotions, on the other hand, had already betrayed him. For anyone with music skills, it was obvious that the offer was too good to be true.

“Do you need me to make a vow?” Dallion asked, to get things moving along.

“No. You have the Order’s support.”

The room lit up. Then—to Dallion’s great surprise—it vanished, revealing the rest of the room. The surprise didn’t end there. The tiles on the ground also lit up, expanding in concentric circles.

You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? Nil asked.

“Seems like I’ve won.” Dallion watched as the entire city lit up in his light. There was no possibility of convincing any more people at this point, but neither could the Archduke.

No, dear boy, you have not won. You merely passed the trial. I just hope you never have to find out what you really did in real life..

BOUND TO THE ORDER

(+2 Mind)

Receiving help from the Order is a smart move. Be careful, though. What the Order gives, the Order can take.

A blue rectangle appeared, followed by a green one.

You have broken through your sixty-eighth barrier.

You are level 68.

Choose the trait you value the most.

Finally, after weeks of failed attempts, Dallion had moved one step closer to reaching level eighty. Yet, he didn’t feel any joy in passing the trial or his achievement. By all accounts, he should have lost. In fact, he had lost: the Archduke would have easily convinced twice as many people as him, if the trial hadn’t suddenly concluded thanks to the Order’s involvement. Granted, it was a valid way of winning, but as Nil had said, it wasn’t Dallion that had won.

Maybe that was the lesson of the trial: the knowledge that there always were stronger entities that one didn’t have to ally with lightly. Or maybe it wasn’t..