Free The Combat Codes by Alexander Darwin Page A

opponent.
    *
    Murray downed his ale and headed toward the back of the large den.
    Two mercs stood posted in front of an ornate door frame. “I’m here to see Thaloo,” Murray growled.
    They clearly recognized him. The one on the right stared at Murray’s flux tattoo sleeve cut with Grievar Knight ink in obvious admiration. The merc quickly recovered and asked suspiciously, “Do you have an appointment with the Boss?”
    “No, but he’ll see me just fine.”
    “No one is allowed to see the Boss without a… .” the merc started, but Murray shouldered his way past the two, moving with a quickness that wouldn’t be suspected of a big man.
    Murray entered a lavish room filled with plush pillows and thick carpets. Marble statues lined the nooks that ran along the back wall. Golden standing lamps shined dull light into the room, illuminating the pockmarked face of the fat man sitting at a polished desk.
    “Thaloo,” Murray said. The man did not seem surprised to see Murray barge into his office with two guards at his tail.
    “Ah, the Mighty Murray Pearson; a pleasure as always.” Thaloo’s jowls undulated as he spoke. He looked up indifferently with his dulled yellow eyes.
    “Boss… he pushed past us.” One of the mercs moved toward Murray as if to grab him. Murray’s eyes latched onto the man mid-movement, stopping him in his tracks, promising him that making contact with his arm would be a very bad move.
    “Leave us.” Thaloo waved his balloon-like hand and the mercs made a hasty exit.
    Thaloo smacked his lips like a hungry toad as he stared up at Murray. “Come to make a bit in my Circle? I know certain influential folk that have been waiting a long time to put some bits on the back of the Mighty Murray Pearson.”
    “As much as I’d like to pad your purse with my blood, that’s not why I’m here,” Murray said.
    Thaloo frowned. “Ah. That’s a pity. You were a pleasure to watch, once upon a time.”
    The fat man swiveled his chair to face the statues along the wall. “Perhaps you were once even good enough to stand here along with Mercuri’s other great champions.”
    Murray narrowed his eyes, breathing out, reminding himself why he was visiting this man. “I’m not here to reminisce, Thaloo. I’m here for patron-rights; I want to make a purchase.”
    “You know what made all these Knights great champions, Pearson?” Thaloo asked, not waiting for a response. “They stuck to their lightpath.” Thaloo ran his hand along one of the statues lovingly. “It’s all a script, Pearson. A path written for us. Those high-bred Daimyos say the script is written by their bit-minders. From the Codex, their researchers program the spectrals and plot our destinies, like gods from above. Do you believe that, Pearson?”
    Murray opened his mouth but Thaloo continued to speak.
    “Now, the Grunts, those harvesters and builders and drudgers, the diggers and reapers and haulers… toiling ceaselessly. The Grunts believe the spectral light came from the stars, floating down from the night sky like angels to guide them on their lightpath. Those brainless fools actually believe they were put on this world to grovel for the Daimyos.” Thaloo chuckled.
    “And the Grievar. Well… you know what the Grievar believe, of course. The spectrals came from deep within the earth, their light illuminating the darkness of the Underground, casting away the shadows on the snowy peaks, cutting through the thick forests of the broken isles… shining down on the Circles and finding us… the chosen ones. The champions to lead the rest. That garbage from the Ancients, about fighting so that the rest shall not have to.” Thaloo theatrically rolled his eyes.
    Thaloo swiveled his chair back toward Murray. “I know you’re smarter than the average merc, Pearson. Unlike those dolts outside my door, you’re a Citadel-trained Grievar. Exposed to those highbrow Surface-side minds. What do you believe?”
    Murray snorted. “I believe