A flock of cyan-feathered seagulls squawked as they glided over the city of Belo Porto (Beautiful Port). Their colored wings glimmered in the sunlight, gracing those below with a beautiful view of the cloudless sky.

  Down there, strolling the vast garden of the largest castle of that city, Thorn flinched as a discolored cyan poop splashed over the upper arm of his ornate recurved bow.

  “Seriously?” he said, looking at the sky and cursing the seagulls squawking in mockery.

  But the deed was done. His amazing bow was now stained with bird feces. The good news was that Rose had not yet arrived. The bad one was that Thorn didn’t have a rag or something else to clean his weapon.

  An idea came: using a powerful skill would surely clean it. But it didn’t. Thorn used most of the skills that could wipe the poop away. The Fiercely Shot did splash some of the feces over the red roses, but only half of them. Its subsequent uses were not enough to remove the deepest stains.

  Thorn’s gaze locked onto a branch of roses.

  “Sorry, sis.” He grabbed a handful of petals and used them to wipe off the poop.

  “The hell are you doing with my roses?” The voice came at the moment he discarded the petals over the tall walls of the castle.

  “Fuck.” The word escaped from his mouth. “I’m sorry, Ren. Some seagulls pooped all over your blood roses. We can’t leave them like that for our generals to see.”

  “You’re absolutely right. Thank you.”

  The girl’s bright, silky-red open robe fluttered according to her pace while her black, tight, and waist-high linen shirt stayed in place. In contrast, her long, pitch-black hair stayed magically in place, fluttering in dissonance from the rest of her body.

  Each of Rose’s steps was accompanied by the ringing of half a dozen thin, golden bracelets on her forearms. For the stepping sounds themselves, they came from her dark-red, high-top boots whose white laces went all the way up, covering half of her black pantyhose.

  She stopped in front of him and gestured toward the outer wall of the garden. They walked over there, leaned on the parapet, and took the vast view of the largest city in the region.

  “Sometimes I still can’t believe we’ve come this far,” he said.

  “I doubt it. We worked our ass off to get this far. Remember how long it took for us to start making a living in this game?”

  “Fifteen months and two and half weeks working nonstop. I’ll never forget it.”

  “And now we’re rich in both worlds.”

  Thorn raised an invisible glass, making Rose chuckle, but she did the same, and they cheered saying together, “To us.”

  “There,” she said, pointing at the stairs more than a hundred meters away and fifty meters below.

  Thorn’s eyes then tracked the twenty pompous-looking players climbing the white stairs towards the siblings' castle.

  “We should head inside,” he said, and she nodded.

  ***

  Thorn changed his leather-tight hunter battle armor to a more formal and fitting attire. The chestplate gave way to a black pocketless trouser, a slick, smooth scarlet shirt under a long dark-red jacket embroidered with a red rose seen from above with dark thorns sprouting from its outer petals.

  For Rose, she stayed mostly the same, but buttoned her robes and swapped the skirt for long and tight black trousers.

  Both of them sat side-by-side at the center of the large squared table in the middle of the war room. They were surrounded by their High Generals, all players above level 80. A few even had a limited class like Rose’s Blood Mage.

  She tapped her fingertips over the marbled table, waiting for it to start soon. But her brother was finishing reading their generals’ summarized reports. She thanked the gods that he was the wise one and she was the talented one.

  “All right. I think I have a grasp of the situation,” Thorn said. “Farundir, your report is lacking several important aspects of your region.” The general accumulated air in his lungs, ready to justify himself, but Thorn kept going. “But I’ll let it slide. You’re the new guy here. Just remember to write me a thorough report next time.”

  The general nodded in relief.

  “Now, onto the next. What about this Phantom Brigade requesting to join our alliance? Are they any good?”

  “They’re competent in combat,” said the High General of the Southern Lands. “I was able to find some footage of them fighting inside a village. The problem is that they only accept assassins, thieves and other edgy-looking classes into their ranks.”

  Rose spoke for the first time, “That restriction might be a problem for them in the long term. However, we need people to do some grunt work as we are expanding like never before. So we should receive them with open arms. In due time we shall address this restriction of theirs.”

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  Thorn was ready to move on when the general from before added, “Oh, I almost forgot. This might not be important, but a few days ago they were part of an alliance with an evil guild, but ended up quitting after it imploded.”

  “Unless they were doing something illegal in that alliance, I don’t see any problem.”

  “That alliance was led by a legendary-class player. A Profane Sorcerer if I’m not mistaken.”

  “We must reach them, ASAP!” Rose said, getting excited mid-sentence.

  “He disappeared,” said the High General. “His alliance was scattered to the four winds. The main guild was dissolved, most of their players ended up joining the Phantom Brigade.”

  “But only those pertaining to the edgy-looking classes, that’s fantastic,” Thorn joked. “Anything else to report?”

  “Yes sir. The next item on my report is also linked to that alliance.”

  Thorn lowered his gaze, opened the meeting schedule and voiced the next item under the High General’s name. “The Black Paw’s Rebellion.” He chuckled at the mere mention of that guild’s name. “They are always up to something.”

  “But never up to something good,” Rose intervened. “ How hard is it to deliver some iron in time? Fuck it. What did they do this time?”

  “Well… As the name suggests, they left our alliance and joined that evil one.”

  “We presented them a fucking fortress on a silver platter,” said Rose, “All we asked in return was for them to deliver some iron on a weekly basis. Yet they still had a problem doing something that simple. Now you’re telling me that they turned their cloak against us? Are they dumb or are they some kind of geniuses playing 4D chess with us?”

  “Apparently they just didn’t want to share the iron from the mines,” the High General answered.

  “Great. Have you talked to them? They are in your territories after all.”

  “Yes. He apologized and said it would never happen again.”

  “Wait a minute,” Thorn said. “Something's not right. I think we are missing something important in all this. Please tell me all you know about that evil alliance, its guilds, and that player with a legendary class.”

  The High General did exactly that, but first he had to collect his thoughts, sort them in some logical order, and only then he spoke. His report took almost fifteen minutes to finish.

  “Didn’t know the game had such big events for low level players,” Rose said. “But what really caught my attention was that druid. Where did he come from? I doubt a low level player could do that much damage to a big alliance like that. General, please find out more about him. Then contact us whenever you find something relevant.”

  “I already have something to show you. There are a few posts, clips and stuff about him on social media.”

  The High General shared all the material he had gathered. For minutes, the Supreme Leaders stood side by side, eyes peeled at the holographic screen showing the druid’s combat prowess.

  “Here!” Rose yelled, “Look at the intimacy between him and the duke during this party.” She dismissed that clip, opened another and fast forwarded to the desired time. “And here. Look at him and those… druid chieftains? I don’t know their titles exactly. But one thing is for sure: he has friends in high places.”

  “I get it,” said the general. “I’ll get there immediately. First I’ll pay a visit to our friends in the Black Pawn, then I’m going after this druid."

  “No,” said Thorn. “Leave it to me.”

  ***

  After all that had happened, those who survived were the ones that ran away, and they were right there, amidst the ashes of the sanctuary they had abandoned.

  “We want to redeem ourselves,” Torvell said once more, daring to look in the eyes of the Iron Druid.

  Despite the anger stirring inside him, Ragnar could see a faint glimpse of honesty and humility in the bear’s eyes and voice.

  “Never,” Ragnar said. “The true owners of this place sacrificed themselves a few days ago, giving their life for this place, while all of you were out there, doing nothing.”

  “Get out!” Mikken growled, showing his sharp, white teeth while slowly dragging a forepaw on the ground.

  “I’m deeply sorry. We would have answered the call if we were aware of any looming threat.”

  “But you didn’t!” Mikken growled harder, now foaming in anger.

  “Wait. You are Hardgart’s little one.” Torvel recognized. “By Bjorn, you have grown so much.”

  “My father died because of you!”

  A female black Iron Bear marched to Torvell’s side, and said, “I told you coming here was a bad idea. Let’s go.”

  “Your father was a warrior.” Torvell ignored her entirely, his eyes fixed on the brown bear. “Unlike me, he always faced his enemies head on, not cowering behind his pride like me.”

  “That’s quite a change of heart. What has changed since then?” Ragnar wanted to know.

  “We were blind, sheltered from the cruel world behind these rocky walls. After our exile, we had to face the real world for the first time. Word of our folly has spread to all druid sanctuaries. None of them accepted us. We were left alone in the wilds.”

  “What sort of menace could threaten an Iron Bear?” Mikken asked.

  “At first, it was the beasts roaming the forests.” Torvell said. “Then came the orc tribes to the east; they hated us with all their heart. However, the worst of them all were the adventurers. They hunt us down day and night no matter where we go. I have lost many friends since our departure from the Iron Bears’ Refuge. That is why we are willing to work day and night to earn our stay here once again."

  The irony of the situation still burned inside Ragnar. Losing his bears in a massacre had crushed his spirit, but finding out that the ones responsible for Mergraff’s return were safe and sound was a cruel twist of fate.

  But it was all still a game. So he swallowed his pride, took a deep breath and said, “It’s up to you, Mikken. Their fates are in your paws.”

  “I'd rather die than share this place with them.”

  Ragnar sighed. A part of him did want those black bears back. Maybe they could repopulate the sanctuary. However, despite Ragnar’s deep knowledge of the game’s system, the inner workings of a druid sanctuary was too volatile for even the wisest druid player to grasp it all.

  “But that’s why I think they should return.” Mikken’s words made Ragnar almost choked with air. “If they promise to work hard from now on, I’m ok with it.”

  “But you just said”, Ragnar began, but was cut off by Mikken.

  “I can’t stay here anymore, Ragnar. It’s too painful for me to step on this ground and look at those rocky walls and not remind me of that night. I can still hear the screams, the roars, the images of the battle are branded in my eyes, especially my father's death.”

  “Does that mean you’re leaving me?”

  “No! I still want to venture out with you. But I know you are rebuilding this place, so I’m going to find a new place for me.”

  Ragnar sighed in relief. For a moment he thought his furry companion was about to leave him.

  Torvell approached, and said, “Thank you, Mikken. Ragnar, we promise we will help you rebuild this place.”

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