Blood of Fate (World 99 Book #1): LitRPG Wuxia Series

by Dan Sugralinov

  His fat supplies provided enough energy to neutralize all the harmful microorganisms, break up all the blood clots, and then the metamorphosis seemed to take a liking to the job and started fixing his organs.

  Luca was lying down with his eyes closed when he heard someone enter the room. There were two of them. He recognized one by his voice.

  “Good morning, my ruler!” Lentz said with exaggerated enthusiasm and volume.

  “Good morning, Your Imperial Highness!” the second added in oily tones.

  The boy in the emperor’s body wanted to respond to the greeting, but something told him that he shouldn’t react for now. Moreover, it was best not to reveal that he could hear them at all.

  “Did it work, Lentz?” the second one asked in a whisper.

  “It surely must work, Naut! The injection I gave him before the procedure had a delayed effect for half a day. If I’m right, his heart has already stopped!”

  “I hope you knew what you were doing!” Naut whispered hotly, the first imperial advisor, as Luca had managed to determine previously. Rezsinius will nail us to the wall if we let him down!”

  “Stop worrying!” With those words, the chief imperial medic walked to Luca and touched his neck, feeling for his pulse. “Two-horns!” He’s still breathing!”

  “Did he hear us?” Naut asked in horror.

  “I doubt it. But even if he did, what does it matter? His blood is thickening with clots as we speak. They’ll kill him soon enough.”

  Luca heard the physician’s clothes rustle as if he was shrugging his shoulders.

  “What do we do now? Wait for him to die, or call the Council? We could say the emperor is ill, the transfusion procedure went wrong...”

  So someone wanted him dead here too! Luca mentally went through all the curses he knew and those he’d learned from Esk, naming in vain a range of otherworldly gods. Then he sat up sharply and spoke.

  “You know, Lentz, it seems the transfusion procedure really did go wrong.”

  First Advisor Naut screamed like a girl and fell to the floor as his legs gave way. Lentz behaved with more courage. He just whispered:

  “Sacred Mother!”

  * * *

  A few years before, when the entire country was lousy with thieves and unemployment, some of the population fell into unprecedented poverty. But as in all times, there was another side to the coin. There were always enterprising people in society that were willing to earn off anything and everything. Nemania Kovachar, at that time trading in vegetables, was one of them. A smooth, slippery and unpleasant character who would sell his grandmother for a copper.

  Easily and with a smile, Nemania cheated citizens that were already poor enough: he had his fingers on scales, he made old produce look fresh, he short-changed and swindled, and all the while was in his element.

  It seemed there were so many complaints against the dishonest merchant that the Sacred Mother had listened to the aggrieved. Or perhaps he himself was guilty by cheating someone he shouldn’t have. Whatever the case, his dark reputation played a cruel trick on the cunning fox. Thieves found out where he hid his ill-gotten gains and cleared him out in full.

  It was like a hammer-blow to the gut, losing spoils so hard-earned through backbreaking labor that had nearly sent the merchant to his grave. But time went on, his well-fed and healthy body had no intentions of dying, so he had to keep living. Nemania had no intentions of being poor.

  In his despair he decided that he didn’t have much left to lose, and went to the thieves’ guild to request an audience and mercy.

  His trading skills, the ability to converse with anyone, even a fellow shyster, and his endless, but measured flattery helped him to cosy up to one gang leader. A captain, as such criminal bosses called themselves.

  History is silent on the subject of what Nemania promised the captain, but aside from getting back part of his lost money, he was also given a building for a small watering hole, where all the gang members could go at any time, to spend time without fear of getting caught by the guards, to discuss their illegal activities and celebrate the guild’s victories.

  By hiring poverty-stricken workers willing to be paid in the most meager food, Nemania continued down his path to riches at double the pace.

  On one of those days, the young and naive orphan Irma came to him, wandering around in search of alms and finding the inn. Perhaps it was their similarity that drew the innkeeper’s attention to the girl, or perhaps the circumstances aligned just right, but the position of barmaid became hers.

  The girl had a watchful eye, a calculating mind and a strong fist. She quickly realized that cushiest spots were where coins rang. And she had been marching staunchly toward her goal for many years, searching a path upwards, to riches and prosperity. Away from the dirty, befouled tables eternally stinking of sour beer, away from the ever drunk, fetid, brawling peasants. As far away as she could get from the tortuous and stuffy nightmares of poverty that plagued her day and night. To a place where the ring of small, lonely bouncing coins grew into ringing streams, and the coppers within them, spinning, their metal edges gleaming, fell into rivers of money, which in turn merged with the magnificent ringing echo of a golden ocean.

  And maybe this was it, the first small step to that dream? Irma kept hold of the girl with a death grip.

  “You don’t understand anything! Let me go, idiot!” the girl hissed. “Don’t take me to Nemania! I just need money! Now!”

  “Worried about your cripple brother, are you?” Irma chuckled. “Stop struggling and shouting, fool girl! As if I’d share with that skinflint! He’d swindle milk from babies!”

  After realizing that Irma was only interested in selling the candlestick, the girl even relaxed a little at first, and walked obediently along a couple of streets, letting the girl lead her. But then she got worried again.

  “You know, this is my candlestick! And I almost got killed when I got it! Let me go, you hear me?!”

  Irma turned and spat in response,

  “If you don’t shut your mouth, little bitch, I’ll finish you off myself so you don’t suffer! You forgotten where we are? Look around and shut up!”

  The words had no effect on the girl.

  “Irma!” Kora dug in her heels and yanked Irma by the arm. “I said stop!”

  Irma took a deep breath to try and calm down. She kept her eyes on the bundle in Kora’s arms.

  “If you don’t want to come, then don’t!” The barmaid dropped the girl’s arm and grabbed the candlestick. She pulled it from Kora’s weak grasp and shot her a spiteful glare. “Only I’ll take this with me.”

  The girl finally lost it. Kicking out at Irma, she pulled the valuable find back. Irma just laughed, watching as the girl’s eyes widened in her vain efforts. The skinny, fifteen-year-old Kora with her barely noticeable chest and the grown-up, wide-hipped, always well-fed Irma, who hadn’t felt a lack of food in many years. The inn’s customers appreciated the ever accommodating barmaid’s services enough to feed her from their own plates. The barmaid’s powerful build and healthy diet made her good at fighting for a place in this world. Sometimes she personally dragged limp drunkards out into the nearby ditches without the bouncers’ help.

  One more pull and the girl fell on her ass on the sidewalk. Irma chuckled victoriously, held her newly won prize close and hurried away.

  The girl didn’t give up. She jumped up and scurried after her. Soon Irma realized that the girl had decided to change her tactics.

  “Irmy, honey,” Kora began to snivel and pluck at the barmaid’s skirt, “they forced themselves on me, and they wanted to take me away and leave me outside the city. I played dead and just managed to get away while they were in another room. I took that candlestick specially! There has to be at least some kind of payment...”

  The words resounded in Irma’s heart with something familiar and close to her. She stopped. Subconsciously, she had always envied Kora’s natural beauty and she knew that in a year or two,
she’d make a serious competitor. Maybe that was why she’d always given the girl the cold shoulder and chased her out of the inn? Although sometimes, usually when she’d been drinking, sympathy awoke within Irma, and then the barmaid wiped away her tears and complained of her rotten life, of how men were ungrateful pigs. All they wanted was to get off, and as soon as it came to payment, they’d start arguing. There were exceptions, of course, but they were very rare.

  Kora kept talking, and Irma listened.

  “My mom has swamp fever, Irma! If I can’t pay for a healer, she’ll die! They already killed Luca! And soon,” the girl sobbed, “they’ll get mom and me too. Please... I need this money...”

  Irma stood holding the candlestick to her chest. She chewed on her full, wind-chapped lips and shifted in doubt. Money was all she ever dreamed of and thought of twenty four hours a day. When she’d seen the precious object, she hadn’t even considered sharing with the girl. Now she hesitated. The picture she saw developing before her was far too familiar for her liking... She had had nobody to help her when she’d needed it.

  Biting her lip until it turned white as if trying to decide something, the girl freed one hand and began to estimate the cost of a healer with her fingers. A couple of minutes later, Irma sighed heavily.

  “Ugh, you dumb pesky chinil, fine,” she muttered and smiled crookedly. “What are you staring at? Let’s go! But be quick and quiet!”

  The port district was not famed for its cleanliness and tidiness. Although both girls were used to that in their own district, the stink of rotten fish seeping from every inch of the place made their eyes stream.

  “Ugh! Where are we going?” the girl asked nasally as she pinched her nose closed.

  “Shut up and keep up. I hope he’s there.”

  “Who?”

  Irma walked decisively to one of the port’s huts with Kora barely keeping up behind her. A drunken and discordant choir mixed with curses drifted from the entryway The songs extolled the virtues of the sea king, a rich life and dockside whores all at once.

  “Abyss! It’s the morning and they’re still hammered. This is the third day since they moored up and they’re still boozing. Stay here, I’ll be quick,” Irma said to the girl.

  “Fat chance!” Kora knitted her brows decisively and stuck with the barmaid. She didn’t want to let her treasure out of her sight for an instant. “I’m coming with you!”

  “Hah... Sure. Come on then. Entertain the boys. Since when did you get so brave? These guys aren’t like sweet old Vindor. And this district is much more dangerous!”

  But the girl didn’t want to hear it.

  “I’m coming with you!”

  “Go where you like. You don’t have anything left to lose!” Irma laughed hoarsely at her own joke and ducked into the low entryway.

  From that point, events developed so quickly and unexpectedly that they didn’t have time to know what was happening. A man flew out of the door and nearly bowled Irma over. And that would be fine, but then another came rushing out with his fist raised, cracking the first one in the jaw. Flying to the side, that one knocked the package from Irma’s arms and the brawling crowd forced her away from the hut.

  More and more drunk men ran out of the house and jumped into the melee with victorious cries of “For the Sea Father!”, indiscriminately beating whoever was closest. The dirty priceless object lay at the entrance, trampled into the mud. None of the men paid the slightest attention to it.

  Irma saw Kora choosing her moment to slip between the brawling men, grab the candlestick and start to slowly retreat around the corner of the house. Sacred Mother forbid that they see her and take it!

  But the girl didn’t even have time to scream as someone grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her into the black maw of the entrance.

  The room was gloomy, and after the light of the street the darkness seemed particularly creepy. There were two tiny holes beneath the ceiling in place of windows, but they let in practically no light.

  Tripping over the threshold and falling, Kora nimbly scurried on all fours away from her attacker until she banged her forehead into a wall. There the girl froze, listening, seeing nothing before her and not knowing where to go.

  “Gotcha, little slut!” a sinister voice whispered.

  Kora heard some sort of rustling nearby, someone unfamiliar swearing and a catty shriek from Irma. Suddenly she felt freer, nobody was holding the girl anymore. Irma stole up to her and quickly grabbed her by the leg. Kora wailed loudly.

  “Don’t fall behind!” Irma whispered angrily. “What’s the matter with you? Follow me and stay quiet! And keep your head down...”

  Kora, sighing with relief, shuffled after the barmaid. A long walled corridor of roughly hewn planks brought them to a small cubbyhole. The entrance was covered with a lop-sided sheet. Irma moved the cloth aside as if she owned the place and walked inside.

  “Hello, Ramo!”

  “Irma?” the ragged man sitting in the small room said in surprise. “What’re you doin’ here? I don’t have time for this!”

  “Look what I brought.” Irma unfolded the package. “We need to sell this at a good price.”

  “What’s this?” He turned the candlestick in his hands, bit it. “Where’s it from, huh? And who’s this piece?”

  “From nowhere special,” Irma cut him off. “And the girl is with me. So are you gonna help us?”

  It was crowded for the three of them in the tiny room lit by the stub of a candle. The short and scrawny Ramo looked like a teenager next to the full-bodied Irma, but at that moment he held himself proudly, puffing out his meager chest. He was a new recruit to the thieves’ guild and hadn’t had a chance to stand out yet, but this shiny trinket could turn into a feather in his cap and a pass into the inner sanctum. If Irma understood anything, it was this world. Ramo’s boss, Bakhr, was highly selective. It cost a lot to become part of his clique.

  “Nobody saw?” Ramo asked, his eyes narrowing.

  Irma shook her head. He nodded, pulled a rag from under the bed in a businesslike fashion and wrapped up the loot.

  “That’s good,” the thief grinned, his teeth gleaming with metal.

  Chapter 21. The Clearest Evidence

  LOOKING AT THE PROSTRATE First Advisor Naut and Chief Imperial Medic Lentz, Luca the Emperor’s imagination ran wild. He could change his plans with consideration for new circumstances.

  It was incredible, but even without Ma Ju Ro’s memory, Luca knew how to talk to these two. The copying had left its mark, and certain templates of behavior and shallow memory remained in Dezisimu from the original Ma Ju Ro the Fourth. It was worth trying to use it. In any case, he could always correct it as he went along.

  “Why have I not lost weight, Lentz?” he whined. “What is this, I ask you?!”

  He slapped his huge wobbling stomach to demonstrate and knitted his brows into a fearsome frown. Esk’s legacy told him how to behave, and the only correct position in his situation was to demand, insult and attack. Luca decided to hold back his knowledge of their unsuccessful conspiracy and assassination attempt. It could be his trump card. Let them squirm and wonder whether he’d heard.

  “Um... Forgive me, great ruler!” The chief imperial medic fell to his knees and pressed his forehead into the cold marble floor. “Something truly went wrong! I will fix this, your magnificence!”

  “You have lost a little weight, my ruler!” First Advisor Naut muttered fawningly. “You know that I never lie to you, that is what you value me for, my lord, that I always tell you the truth, no matter how bad it is...”

  Luca kicked him in the side in disgust. He’d have to show his cards after all, but he could put pressure on one. If they both attacked him in desperation, he’d have to kill them both, and he needed information.

  “What crap are you spouting, worm? Do you think I’m so stupid that I can’t tell myself whether I’ve lost weight?”

  Naut shook even harder.

  “Master of
the palace guard! To me! Now!”

  He couldn’t help but reinforce his words with another kick, this time on the first advisor’s fat backside. He overdid it. The advisor’s face crashed into the floor before he could get his hands down, and he broke his nose.

  “Do you wish me to summon him, o great ruler?” Lentz offered his services. His eyes darted around. It didn’t take a mind-reader to realize that he was planning to run!

  “His Majesty made it clear that the assignment was for me,” Naut wheezed out nasally through his bleeding nose. “I will fetch him, lord!”

  He rose up heavily, his knees cracking, and staggered toward the door. There was a reason that Luca had decided to let him go, and not the cunning Lentz. It was best to clarify the conspiracy one on one.