Making Game: CH 168 – Lore on Demand (Patreon)

Elah Tan leaned back into the soft contour of her hover chair, letting out a long, weary breath as she rubbed the tension from her eyelids. Across her desk, floating holographic slates displayed dozens of newly submitted screenplays.

Ever since the premiere of the Pokémon animated series shattered regional broadcast records, the production offices of NovaFrame Pictures had become the hottest destination in galactic entertainment. 

High-profile screenwriters and veteran producers who had previously dismissed her company as a modest mid-tier studio were now practically knocking down her door.

Elah was far too experienced in the industry to fool herself. These celebrated creators were not flocking to her because of her own modest portfolio. They were using her as a bridge. Everyone knew NovaFrame held an exclusive collaborative pipeline with Round Table Studio, and every ambitious writer in the Accord wanted an introduction to Arthur Pendragon.

Even so, Elah welcomed the attention. Her passion for pure, transformative cinema still burned as fiercely as it had when she first took over the company. She played along, opening doors and negotiating favorable distribution terms to elevate NovaFrame to the highest echelon of the industry. 

Whenever she managed to catch Arthur on a private comm line, she would jokingly ask if he had another cinematic gem like Spirited Away tucked away in his vault. Arthur was always politely evasive, constantly buried beneath new game engines and hardware deadlines.

She reached up to knead the stiff knot in her right shoulder, sighing at the sheer volume of reading left on her docket.

"Looking a little aged around the eyes, sister," a familiar voice chimed from the doorway.

Vond Tan strolled into the office, casually spinning a sleek datapad across his fingertips.

Elah shot him a dry glare. "Keep talking like that and see what happens to your holiday bonus. Besides, if trading a few years off my face could convince Arthur to send over another feature-length script, I would gladly take the wrinkles."

Vond laughed, rounding the wide desk. "Well, you might get your wish sooner than you think. I just pulled something remarkable from the legal queue. It is an adapted screenplay that requires clearance."

Elah perked up, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. "An adaptation? Which novel did someone option? Did the writer fail to clear the rights with the original author before writing the draft?"

"Well… first of all, the source material is not a novel," Vond said, tapping the screen to transfer the file to her primary desk terminal.

Elah glanced at the header, and the breath caught in her throat.

The name stamped boldly across the title card was Hain Zossare.

Elah shot to her feet so fast her chair slid back on its repulsor rails. "What in the stars?!"

"My exact reaction," Vond said with a grin.

Elah stared at the display, her thoughts racing. Hain Zossare was a living monument in the film industry, a legendary auteur who had swept every prestigious festival across the Core Worlds for three decades. Rumors had been swirling through the trade rags that the director had retreated into privacy to work on a deeply personal passion project. The rumors were apparently true.

A massive question immediately followed.

"Why would Hain send this to us?" Elah asked, narrowing her eyes at the file. "A man of his stature could name his price at any distributors. Is he casting a wide net to trigger a bidding war?"

Vond shook his head firmly. "This is a targeted submission. Look at the title."

He highlighted the center of the document.

A single word hovered in crisp white letters: Troy.

Elah tapped the auxiliary summary notes, scanning the historical character sheets. Achilles. Agamemnon. Hector. Apollo.

The connection struck her. This wasn't standard Accord historical fiction. It was the ancient Olympian mythology established entirely within Arthur's breakout masterpiece, Hades.

Over the past year, prominent cultural analysis Stellarcaster like VaatiVideo had produced multi-hour deep dives dissecting the tragic lore of the Underworld and the grand myths that Arthur had woven into his characters. Hain Zossare had obviously fallen down that exact same narrative rabbit hole.

"Hain sent the draft to us because we handle Lady in the Lake Productions," Elah murmured, the pieces locking into place. "It's proper industry etiquette after all. He reached out to us rather than sending a query to the studio."

"He needs Arthur's legal blessing to adapt his game lore into a major motion picture," Vond explained, leaning over the console. "More than that, the cover letter specifically states that Hain wants direct creative consultation from Arthur himself. He refuses to take a single frame without Arthur's personal approval."

Elah felt her pulse pounding in her ears. This was the defining moment NovaFrame had been waiting for. Partnering with a legendary titan like Hain Zossare on an epic based on Round Table Studio's mythology would immediately propel their brand into the upper tier of galactic cinema.

She snatched her winter coat from the rack beside the door.

"Vond, clear my entire schedule for the next three days," Elah said, pulling her arms through the sleeves. "I'm boarding the personal shuttle. We're flying straight to Friton."

Vond blinked, holding up his hands. "Wait! We haven't even scheduled a formal meeting with Round Table Studio yet!"

Elah pulled her comm unit from her pocket with a fierce, excited grin. "I'm dialing Arthur's private frequency right now."

…

Arthur activated the Zagreus profile, feeling the subtle change with his posture. By the time the pneumatic doors to the staging deck slid back, he carried the tall, sharp, noble bearing that the broader galaxy associated with the head of Round Table Studio.

He stepped forward, extending a warm hand to greet Elah Tan and her younger brother Vond.

"I'm so sorry for dropping in without an official appointment," Elah said, offering a firm, apologetic handshake.

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries at all. I take it Lady in the Lake Productions has been feeling a little dried up lately?"

Elah laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders. "We certainly understand where all your attention went. I've watched the frenzy surrounding Pokemon Arena over the past couple of weeks. There's practically no public corner left in the galaxy without teenagers clashing with their holographic monsters. You see them on every sidewalk, even back on my home planet."

"The excitement caught us by surprise as well," Arthur said with a broad smile. "Come inside. Let's find a quiet place to sit."

He guided the two executives down the wide glass corridors. As they strolled past the sunlit atrium, Elah looked around with open fascination, taking in the towering indoor trees and the energetic movement of staff members moving between open-concept bays.

"As you can see," Arthur remarked, gesturing to the lively workspaces, "our third hiring wave made the studio considerably more bustling."

"I still have a difficult time believing a work environment like this can exist in modern production," Elah confessed, watching a flock of miniature delivery drones buzz quietly beneath the canopy. "I would love to introduce this exact setup to our offices, yet real estate on Sela is brutally expensive."

Vond chimed in with a rueful grin. "We're already stretching our operating budget just leasing three floors."

Arthur gave an awkward laugh. Sela was notorious for property costs that bordered on extortion. The world operated as the undisputed entertainment capital of the Accord, functioning essentially like the ancient Hollywood of Earth. He felt deeply thankful that video game production allowed his team to stay rooted on a peaceful world like Friton instead of bleeding credits in the high-rent districts of the Core.

They arrived at the executive conference suite. Arthur stepped through the threshold and gestured toward the plush chairs surrounding the polished wooden table.

"Gawain, privacy mode and record this session, please," Arthur said.

The digital chime of the studio AI resonated from the center of the ceiling. "Commencing recording protocol. Requesting secondary party consent."

"Consent granted," Elah answered smoothly.

"Make sure to send our office an encrypted copy as well," Vond added as he sat down.

The transparent walls instantly polarized, shifting into dense frosted glass that blocked all visibility from the outer hallway. With security established, the meeting began in earnest.

…

Just beyond the frosted glass, a small group of junior developers lingered near the corridor divider, leaning over one another with shameless curiosity.

"Is that really Elah Tan from NovaFrame Pictures?" one whispered, adjusting his spectacles.

"Are we getting another animated film?" another asked, eyes shining with excitement.

A third developer crossed his arms with a skeptical scoff. "Even if the studio signs a film deal, that belongs to their external cinematic branch. It's unlikely any of us will touch the project."

"Well, several of us actually helped Arthur with Spirited Away back in the early days," a cheerful voice remarked from right behind their shoulders.

The junior developers jumped in unison. They spun around in panic, only to find Liseli crouched beside them, peeking through the narrow gap in the partition with an amused grin.

Before anyone could stutter an apology for slacking off, a concentrated pillar of light flared in the center of the hallway. Gawain's holographic avatar coalesced into view, his silver armor glinting beneath the corridor illumination.

"Is there something I can assist you with, ladies and gentlemen?" Gawain inquired, his voice entirely deadpan.

Liseli gasped and pointed toward the far end of the wing. "Run!"

The junior developers scattered in every direction, laughing and ducking into their respective department aisles to evade the AI monitor.

Gawain watched the dust settle in the empty corridor, muttering to himself as his visual sensor recalibrated. "Do they forget that this is a professional workplace?"

…

Inside the soundproofed chamber, the discussion unfolded with sharp focus. Arthur, Elah, and Vond spent over an hour reviewing the narrative architecture of Hain Zossare's Troy screenplay. They examined how the legendary director intended to translate the Olympian lore from Hades into a sweeping cinematic epic, weighing creative boundaries, world-building fidelity, and licensing terms.

After a thorough exchange, Arthur reached a firm conclusion.

"Let's arrange a formal sit-down on Sela with Director Zossare," Arthur said, resting his hands flat against the table.

Elah stood up, her face glowing with genuine excitement as she offered her hand. "You won't regret this, Arthur."

Arthur returned the handshake with an easy smile. "Keep in mind what I mentioned earlier. I have virtually zero background when it comes to the technical craft of live-action filmmaking."

"Leave the camera rigs and studio politics to our team," Vond said, tapping a quick confirmation onto his datapad. "I'll get in touch with Raja to coordinate the scheduling and draft the initial framework."

Arthur gave a firm nod.

Elah grabbed her winter coat, pausing at the threshold of the conference room to turn back with a pointed look. "You still have to attend the meeting in person, Arthur. Director Zossare specifically requested the presence of the creator behind the lore."

Arthur chuckled softly, raising his hands in defeat. "Of course, of course. I will be there."

…

The morning after the impromptu meeting, the sprawling headquarters of Round Table Studio stood completely silent. In celebration of the overwhelming success of Pokémon Arena, Arthur and the production leads had granted the entire workforce two weeks of paid leave.

On Sela, the radiant capital of the galactic entertainment industry, Ravli walked through the sun-drenched avenues alongside his wife and two young children. They had booked a private guided excursion through the city's celebrated tourist corridor.

Their repulsor skiff drifted along manicured boulevards, offering panoramic views of the gated estates of legendary holovid actors, preserved outdoor sets from historic cinematic epics, and the sprawling production backlots of major entertainment conglomerates.

Seeing his family laugh and take photos brought a bittersweet ache to Ravli's chest. For them, walking these famous streets was a dream come true. For him, every gleaming skyscraper felt like a gilded prison.

Halfway through the studio lot tour, Ravli reached into his pocket and glanced at his handheld terminal. He put on an apologetic expression and turned to his wife.

"I need to step away for a little while," Ravli said quietly. "A minor production query came in from the network server. It should only take a few minutes to resolve."

His wife smiled warmly, adjusting their daughter's sun hat. "Don't worry about it. Go take care of your work, and meet us by the costume museum when you finish."

Ravli nodded stiffly, stepped off the tour platform, and walked toward the commercial boulevard.

He turned down a quiet side street toward a high-end restaurant hidden behind thick, sound-dampening polarized glass. Two tall men in dark tailored suits stood waiting beside the entrance. 

The dense, static hum lingering in the air around their shoulders indicated they were trained Solars acting as private security. Without uttering a word, the guards conducted a swift biometric scan, tapped the security panel, and escorted Ravli through a private rear hallway.

The pneumatic door to the VIP dining suite slid open with a soft hiss.

Zoye Raves sat at the far end of an expansive dining table laden with a lavish banquet. Plates of glazed Jovian meats, exotic fruits, and crystal carafes of vintage spirits crowded the linen surface.

Zoye chewed a mouthful of roast meat, wiping his mouth with a silk napkin before looking up. "Come inside, Ravli. Ah, you're currently enjoying your studio's so-called two-week holiday, correct?"

Ravli walked forward with rigid steps, pulling out the chair directly opposite the CEO.

Zoye chuckled, shaking his head at the ceiling with open contempt. "Two weeks of paid leave. What an absolute dumbass Arthur is." He shifted his cold gaze back to Ravli and gestured toward the plates. "Go on, eat. It's all on me."

Ravli sat motionless. The thought of food made his stomach churn with nausea. "The internal security on Friton is exceedingly tight, sir. As I mentioned before, they have an artificial intelligence named Gawain managing the compound."

Zoye gripped his silver fork tightly, his knuckles whitening before he forced his posture to relax. A patronizing smirk spread across his lips. "I see. You wanted to take your time playing the clever spy. Tell me, does it feel thrilling?"

Ravli swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. He had to offer something convincing to keep Zoye at bay, yet he refused to surrender Dorian Kepler.

"Sir, all I managed to verify is that Arthur is indeed a Solar capable of altering his physical appearance," Ravli lied, looking directly into Zoye's eyes. "I could find no secondary identity records. Based on everything in their company registry, he has no alias. He is simply Arthur Pendragon, a Solar native to Friton."

Zoye's smile faded into a flat, assessing stare. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small, circular metallic disc, and slid it across the polished table.

The device slid to a halt right in front of Ravli's hands.

Ravli picked it up with cold fingers. It looked like a standard universal data puck. He assumed Zoye wanted him to extract proprietary engine schematics or upcoming project files.

Zoye picked up his glass of malt alcohol, swirling the amber liquid slowly. "That is a custom kill switch. Once plugged into any active port, it deploys a targeted logic plague designed to fry an AI compadre straight to its processing core. It leaves zero digital trace of its existence."

Ravli froze. A wave of icy sweat broke out across his spine. His breath hitched in his throat.

"Sir... surely you aren't asking me to–"

Zoye slammed his open palm onto the table.

The sudden impact shook the heavy mahogany surface. Crystal glasses rattled violently, spilling dark red wine across the white tablecloth.

"I'm not asking!" Zoye snarled, leaning across the table with flashing eyes. "It's an order! Learn the difference between a suggestion and a command!"

The heavy door cracked open. The suited Solar guards stepped halfway into the room, their hands hovering near their belts to investigate the noise.

Zoye exhaled slowly, straightened his tailored lapels, and waved his hand to dismiss them. The guards bowed and stepped back into the corridor, letting the door seal shut once more.

Zoye lowered his voice to a cold, venomous murmur. "You'll deploy that drive on the day they officially launch the Caliburn VR seat. I'm willing to bet that their compadre Gawain is hardwired directly into their central development archives. Without that digital core holding everything together, their operations will grind to a halt. We can freeze their studio's progress for two years at minimum."

Zoye pushed his chair back and stood up, smoothing his trousers. The charming, wealthy mask returned to his face as if the violent outburst had never occurred.

"Enjoy the rest of your vacation with your lovely family, Ravli. Keep your sights focused on the bright future ahead."

Without waiting for a reply, the CEO walked out of the suite, his guards falling into formation behind him.

Ravli remained seated in the quiet room.

He stared down at the small metal disc clutched in his palm. His hands began to shake with uncontrollable spasms, rattling the metal puck against his knuckles. His timid nature offered no defense against the overwhelming terror threatening to drown him.

A wave of bitter self-loathing tore through his mind. He cursed his own cowardice. He had lacked the courage to chase his artistic ambitions through honest sweat, and now he was being coerced into annihilating the only sanctuary that had ever treated him with basic dignity.

Unchecked tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, dropping silently onto his trembling hands. Ravli sat entirely still in the empty banquet hall, crushed beneath a decision so suffocating that the deadly device in his grasp felt completely weightless.

…

Marcus dug the heels of his boots into the packed dirt of the sparring circle, kicking up twin plumes of dust as he slid backward several paces. His breath came in heavy, rhythmic surges. At sixteen years old, another sudden growth spurt had pushed his height to a towering 185 centimeters, giving his long limbs a massive reach that he was still learning to coordinate under pressure.

Across the ring, Levi hopped lightly from paw to paw, dual wooden training blades whistling through the air in swift, punishing arcs. Then, as had happened several times over the past week, the Palico abruptly halted his advance. 

Levi turned his head toward empty air, his whiskers twitching furiously as he hissed and swiped his paw at the empty space beside a fence post, looking as if an unseen spectator were standing there whispering insults about his teaching methods.

Marcus wiped his damp forehead with the back of his forearm, his sweaty jet-black hair swaying in the cool breeze. A tired grin broke across his face. "That was a good spar, Levi."

"It was inadequate at best," a deep, raspy voice rumbled from the edge of the tree line.

The hair on the back of Marcus's neck stood on end. Moving on pure combat reflex, he raised the Shield of Chaos with the Aspect of Beowulf his older brother had given him, dropped his center of gravity, and drove forward in a violent kinetic burst. He channeled his momentum into a crushing shield bash, aiming to knock the intruder flat before the figure could close the distance.

A massive gauntlet cloaked in dark crimson steel rose without haste.

The heavy celestial bronze rim of the Aegis slammed into the palm of the armored hand with the force of an explosive shell. The shockwave scattered the loose gravel around their boots, yet the stranger did not yield an inch. The man stood entirely unmoved, his fingers locking over the rim of the shield as casually as catching a wooden practice toy.

The God of War looked down into Marcus's face.

What Ares saw was completely different from the mild, playful boy who lounged in the Kepler living room around Dorian. The gentle demeanor was gone. Marcus's jaw was locked tight, his dark eyes ablaze with cold, lethal focus. 

These were the eyes of a true warrior, someone who recognized the fragility of peace, who knew the bitter taste of vulnerability, and who possessed the ruthless resolve to sacrifice his own life to defend those behind him.

"Fascinating," Ares rumbled, a dark smile spreading beneath his battle-scarred face.

Marcus twisted his hips, wrenching the shield free from the iron grip. He sprang backward three clean paces, placing his broad frame squarely in front of Levi. Low rumbles stirred in the grass as Ted and Teddy padded up to his flanks. 

Yet, to Marcus's quiet shock, his Growlithe and Houndoom did not bare their fangs or ignite their flames. The fiery hounds merely sat down on their haunches, watching the towering stranger with calm, familiar deference.

Marcus kept the Aegis raised, his muscles coiled like springs. "Who are you?"

Ares ignored the weapon, letting his red gaze wash over the youth. He studied the boy's internal energy. The plasma coursing through Marcus's veins was immense, wild, and utterly untamed, rushing through his body like a raging river breaking its banks. 

Ares recognized the origin immediately. The restorative post-workout tonic Levi concocted every afternoon, blending divine ambrosia with potent vitality drafts from the New World of Monster Hunter, had altered the boy's physiology to an absurd degree. His mortal vessels had expanded far beyond the normal boundaries of his age.

Ares chuckled, his voice vibrating through the sparring ring like distant thunder. "I'm here to improve your odds."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Marcus replied, his tone icy and guarded.

"The feline has taught you basic footwork and discipline, yet there is little left he can offer you in a real slaughter," Ares said bluntly.

Levi let out a sharp, indignant meow from behind Marcus's boots, puffing up his fur and shaking a wooden blade at the armored titan.

Ares didn't even glance down at the cat. "I can provide the instruction you lack. You possess potential far beyond the narrow Solar branch the Accord stamped onto your file, Marcus."

Marcus studied the jagged crimson plates, the spiked pauldrons, the smoldering mantle, and the heavy spear resting across the giant's back. The terrifying imagery clicked with sudden clarity. He had spent hours exploring every corner of his brother's digital Underworld.

"You're Ares," Marcus whispered, his eyes widening slightly. He glanced down at the docile hounds beside his boots, the puzzle pieces falling into place. "Did my brother bring you into this world, the exact same way he manifested Ted and Teddy?"

The hounds' complete lack of hostility made absolute sense now. They recognized the signature of Dorian's creations.

Marcus slowly lowered the rim of his shield, straightening his tall posture. His voice turned hard and transactional. "Every deal involves a price. If you want to train me, my brother must have zero knowledge of these sessions. You tell him nothing."

Ares barked out a sudden, genuine laugh. "You haven't even survived your first swing against me, and already you attempt to dictate terms? Your foolish brother was never this crass."

The instant the word foolish left the war god's lips, Marcus's expression darkened. The teenager's grip tightened around the leather straps of the Aegis until his knuckles turned bone-white. His shoulders shifted, his body language making it clear that he was one breath away from throwing his life away just to smash the bronze rim across the deity's mouth.

Ares caught the murderous gleam, and his grin grew wider. The boy was fiercely protective of his kin. That raw, unyielding fire pleased him far more than polite deference.

"Very well," Ares said, resting a heavy hand on the pommel of his broadsword. "I agree with your condition. Are there any further demands, or shall we begin?"