Scamps & Scoundrels: A LitRPG/Gamelit Adventure (The Bad Guys Book 1)

by Eric Ugland

  So that was cool. I mean, grain of salt that nonsense because she was a ruler, her descendants clearly still ruled, and I’d studied enough of North Korea to know the level of horseshit a leader might shovel to make themselves into a godhead. But still an interesting story.

  I’d gotten a little sucked into reading, and my stamina had refilled quite some time ago. I marked my place in the book and got back to the course.

  20

  I stopped working out when I heard bells ringing. I wanted to look out a window and see if it was daylight, but that sort of activity was a pain in the ass in my new apartment. The third-floor windows had been covered so no one outside could look in. In a sense, I got it, I didn't really want anyone to watch me workout. But I'd have liked to look out, or just get some light inside. Even light. The light was also a weird question because light was provided from these glowing orbs. They were cool to the touch but put off light. Kind of like lightbulbs except you could grab these lit globes and move them around and they’d stay lit. Very cool and although little confusing. Although, it was something of a moot point, considering I could keep the lights off, and just use darkvision. Oh well.

  To see outside, I had to head up to the top floor, or the roof. And considering I hadn’t been out on the roof yet, I figured it would be an excellent time to take a peek.

  I opened the door onto the roof, and it was, in fact, day time out. There was still the cold morning air about, so I hadn’t missed too much of the day. But the rest of the roof-top area was a tiny oasis in the city. Mostly. There was a massive water tower perched on top of the roof, and it was definitely an NYC style water tower. A big pipe led down through the roof, and there was a hose coming out from it. The hose was in place for all the plants up top. Big leafy plants, huge flowers, and even some small trees sporting fruits I could recognize and other stuff I’d never seen. There was also a wooden platform just about the perfect size for sitting and reflecting on the world. Or yoga. Probably yoga. At least for Etta. She didn’t seem to be the social type.

  The water tower was an immediate source of curiosity. I wanted to know, badly, how the water got inside. It looked like there was only a single pipe down, so where did the water come from? I climbed up the ladder along the side of the water tower, and I found a small door. A peek inside, and the confusion just got worse. There was a glowing hole, right at the very top of the roof, and water poured out of it. Climbing on top of the water tower, I looked around and saw no hole. It was only on the inside. That was definitely a trip. I went back so I was looking at the interior of the water tower again, trying to find a good angle on the glowing hole, doing my utmost to look into the hole, see what might be in there. I couldn’t see anything behind a blue haze. And it freaked me out. But the water in the tower was cold, and when I tasted some of it from the hose, it was fresh. Nigh-on perfect as far as water went.

  Just one more mystery.

  I sat on the wooden platform, and just let the world exist around me. I closed my eyes, and I let all my thoughts peter out of my somewhat frazzled brain, being as still as I could.

  Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Meditation. Now you can find that inner peace. Oooooooohm.

  Well, fart on you very much, game. I was definitely in a pleasant trance, just in a state of being and then the game had to go and butt its nose into my attempts at mindfulness.

  I paused my internal diatribe and tried to pinpoint who I was raging at… who was behind the game? Who made the rules? Who enforced the rules? Why was the world this way? And when I got to that particular question, I realized the danger of following that train of thought because it wouldn’t lead anywhere. I needed to let others try to figure out the philosophy of the world, my own needs were elsewhere.

  And at that moment, it was in taking a shower.

  Which was glorious.

  Showers are amazing. And this place had piping hot water and super cold water, and whoever had installed the taps in Etta’s place had done a smashing job. I spent way too long in there, partially because it felt good and I was tired, and partly because I wanted to test the limits of my running water. It did not seem that there were any.

  A quick search of the kitchen, more of a kitchenette really, revealed a complete lack of food. There was a stove, which required wood or coal to function, several cabinets and cupboards, a sink, and a large butcher block. Which was pristine. Not a mark on the wood. I don’t think cooking had ever been something Etta had invested in. To be fair, it’d never really been something I’d engaged heavily in. I spent my day working around food, I had little desire to continue doing so in my free time.

  I ditched the clothes I’d gotten with my Welcome Pack, and got on my scratchy garb from Gideon’s. It was a tighter fit than I was really comfortable with, but that was because of my lack of style back on Earth. Things here were more fitted, and baggy clothing had yet to hit it big in Glaton.

  Down the stairs I went, stepping out into the city. My city. It was time to claim it.

  21

  But first, breakfast. I walked around the corner and stepped into the Heavy Purse. It was not crowded, but a few people were sitting around the tables. The bartender was leaning over the bar, face in a book. He looked up as I walked in, then gave me a small smile and shut the book.

  “Morning, Sarsaparilla,” he said.

  “Titus, I’m guessing,” I replied.

  He stood up, a look of surprise crossing his face.

  “How’d you know that?”

  I tossed Etta’s note onto the bar, and he snatched it before it even stopped moving. He nearly tore the paper unfolding it. He read quickly, then looked over the top of the paper at me. Then back at the note. Then back to me. Slowly, he folded the paper and motioned for me to come closer to the bar.

  Which I did.

  He pointed at the stool.

  “A moment of your time,” he said, leaning closer to me than I expected. “This tells me that you are my landlord now. Is this true?”

  I nodded.

  “And this says I must negotiate my new lease with you.”

  “Uh,” I stalled, “I suppose you do. I wasn’t aware of that, though. What was your old lease?”

  Titus tilted his head ever so slightly, and I guessed he was trying to figure out if he should tell me the truth about his lease, about the agreement he’d had with Etta.

  “Look, man,” I said, “I’m not looking to, you know, hurt you or your family. Do you have a family?”

  He nodded. “Wife, two children. Also, keep my mother-in-law here.”

  “I just want to make sure I’m not, like, going to run out of money keeping this building going.”

  “I paid her taxes,” he said. “And she got to eat here for free. She also got twenty gold a month, plus ten percent of my income.”

  “Are there any other, like, costs for owning this building?”

  “Besides taxes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “How about you keep the gold, pay my taxes, and let me eat and drink here for free.”

  “You think you’re going to drink twenty gold worth a month?”

  “I doubt it, you’d prefer to pay?”

  “Heh,” he said, shaking his head, “you are a different breed than that girl. She never once spoke with me. Just at me. Announced things in my presences. Told me how to run my bar so I could pay her more. Never once asked me about a damn thing. But you, day one? Things might be different here, now, eh?”

  “Probably.”

  He stuck out his hand.

  “I will agree to that lease.”

  We shook, and smiled.

  “How about some breakfast?” I asked.

  “You feeling like a big breakfast or a small breakfast?” he asked, looking nearly excited about things.

  “Big.”

  He nodded and then disappeared around the bar into the kitchen

  Immediately, I wondered if I’d made a massive mistake. Was thi
s place possibly a legit source of income? Would it have allowed me to live off the gold and do whatever I wanted in the city? It certainly seemed like my predecessor had a certain amount of freedom and independence, and she’d definitely put together an imposing home that had to have taken a certain amount of coin. But, I mean, provided Titus kept his tavern running, I’d always have food. And I owned the building, so I’d have a place to sleep. Maybe I wouldn’t be flush with money, but my back wasn’t up against the wall. I could take my time finding my way through this lovely world.

  Titus swung back around with a large plate filled with eggs, potatoes, and sausage. He set it in front of me with a flourish and then plopped a cup of frothy ale next to it.

  “Breakfast is served,” he said. “With my wife’s compliments for the generous lease.”

  I smiled, and I started eating.

  “You are new to the city,” the man said. “Right?”

  “That’s true,” I replied, my mouth full of eggs. “Mind if I ask a question or two?”

  “Better half of the bartender’s job,” he replied. “Ask as many as you like.”

  “Do you know a place where I might get some training?”

  “Training? What is it you would like to be trained in?”

  “Archery for one.”

  “Simplest course would be to talk to some tower guards. Offer to pay them to teach you in their off-hours.”

  “Why do I think that’s not the best course?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, might be because the tower guards rarely take kindly to strangers. And means you take their side in that whole Legion-Guard fiasco.”

  “Bit of bad blood between them?”

  “Bit? Pretty sure that’s the largest feud in the Empire. The only reason the city hasn’t succumbed to violence is, well, it does. They just do a decent job keeping it contained to the bars.”

  “Do you have fights here?”

  “On occasion.”

  “Do you have a bouncer?”

  “A bouncer?”

  “Doorman? Security?”

  “Not sure we are big enough for something like that. Why?”

  “Figured someone like that might be able to teach me the fine art of bar fighting.”

  “You seem to want to learn a lot,“ he said, tapping his teeth with a finger. He nodded at me. “I think I might have someone you might want to meet. Not sure he knows how to send an arrow downrange, but he might have some skills to part with.”

  And that’s how I found myself making my first trip over to the Pits.

  22

  After my filling breakfast and early ale, I headed into the city, walking with purpose but without urgency. I had a place to go, but, to me at least, it was more important to keep track of what I was seeing. I had the dagger and short swords on my belt, though I had no idea how to actually use them. I wasn’t thinking of getting into an alteration, but I wanted to be prepared on the off chance someone came after me. I went north from Old Town into Portsmouth. Unlike the British town, this place was pronounced Ports Mouth. And it was a port. There wasn’t the acrid sea-air smell, but that was mostly because there wasn’t seawater nearby. It was a river port. And the river was already vast. And it looked like the port had been dug out deeply, carving out a massive chunk of the land to make a big open area for ships to maneuver and dock. And there were plenty of docks around. I stood near the water, trying my best to stay out of the way, and just looked at it. The water wasn’t super clean, there was definitely a brownness to it, but I didn’t see any visible signs of grossness. Or trash. I watched as riverboats were loaded and unloaded, and there was an astounding amount of goods moving in and out of the capital city. Massive logs, bigger than any tree I’d ever seen in the old world, were a startling common sight.

  And, while hanging out there, I certainly caught a few new languages.

  Smashing! You’ve learned a new language, Mahrduhmese.

  As well as Sea Elven, Ancient Elven, Archaic Dwarven, Modern Dwarven, Infernal (after listening to what I thought were seagulls arguing), Celestial, Orc, Narbendian, and Deep Gnomish.

  I made a mental note to venture deeper into Portsmouth later when I had more time to enhance my linguistical abilities, but that day, I had an ultimate destination, so I headed east into the industrial area. At least, that’s how I thought of it. At that point, I didn’t have any idea of the name. It was a much more hopping place, and there were lots of things being made. The hammering on metals, the burning of coal, wood being shaped, leather being tanned. There wasn’t much in the way of height, the buildings were shorter, in the industrial district,. I suppose no one really wanted to live above a forge. Wide roads made it easy to get goods in and out. It was definitely a different rhythm there. There were not as many stores as I’d thought, and I had a distinct feeling I saw the more significant production spots. This was the sort of place one would look for a joint to buy a thousand decent swords from, not one perfect one. The massive trees I’d seen unloaded in the port were being worked in huge sawmills, cut by blades that seemed impossibly large. I had to wonder how much of the industrial work had magic as an element that made it possible. I wasn’t super comfortable in the area, it was just so busy, and there was definitely an element of danger. Huge wagons were everywhere, being pulled by massive creatures, or by teams of giant creatures. And pedestrians definitely did not have the right of way. The fact that my stroll through the industrial area didn’t leave me a witness to maiming was, perhaps, the most fantastic sight of everything I saw that day.

  From there, I headed east, into the Forum. The Forum was beautiful, calm, and a bit boring. It had a feeling of a spot left behind, there were plenty of buildings that were either underutilized or abandoned, very few shops, and not much in the way of foot traffic. In my sinister moments, I thought it might make an excellent area to divest certain people of their belongings, considering that I also saw little in the way of guards. Crossing over the Via Praetorium, I walked by those in line to join the Legion and realized it was a whole cross-section of humanity. Or, uh, manity? It was all the various races, standing in line together. Most of them were quite excited, chatting with their neighbors about the possibility they’d find fame or fortune as they embraced the emperor’s call to arms. I wondered if anyone was rejected. There seemed such confidence they would all be Legionnaires, but if there was such a need for new soldiers, when the country wasn’t even at war, what the hell was the fatality rate for soldiers?

  I didn’t think it’d be super wise to ask.

  After the forum was the Golden Square. Which was a big rectangle. And there were lots of banks and temples. It was serene. Quiet. Fantastic. Trees were planted all around, there were small gardens and parks in the middles of the blocks. There were also plenty of gates, walls, and guards. Guards who eyed anyone not dressed to the nines who looked like they might spend too long. Traipsing through the Golden Square, I also saw some very posh restaurants as well as got a taste of contemporary fashion. I was not dressed in the manner that befitted the well-groomed young men of Glaton. They preferred tights, shiny shoes, colorful pants, and somewhat outlandish coats. They had large hats, usually tricorns, and carried ridiculous swords about their person. Not necessarily absurd because of size, but because of ostentation. Lots of gold and jewels on the handles. Dandys. At least, insofar as I could tell. I liked the atmosphere of the Golden Square, but I don’t know that I’d ever want to actually live there because I don’t know that I’d want to deal with the inhabitants daily. Unless to rob them. It was really hard keeping my hands to myself as I walked along because I desperately wanted to test out my new pickpocketing skill. And yet, one of the wealthiest and most heavily guarded districts in the city was probably not the best choice for a noob like me.

  Then there was this nice neighborhood called Daffenby’s Repose, a name I got because of the large signs that were everywhere in the place. It was nice. I guess. Not very many tall buildings, but rather, there were homes. Not really m
uch in the way of land between them, they were joined, but it was all laid out very meticulously, and I had the feeling it was a planned community. Again, quite a few guards, some lovely little parks, and a series of shops at the end of each giant row of houses. The next neighborhood was like a shoddy recreation of Daffenby’s Repose, but the houses were cheaper, taller, and the green spaces that had once existed had been replaced with more cheap buildings. It wasn’t horrible, tenement style living, but it also wasn’t particularly pleasant. Which made sense when I finally made it to my destination, The Pits.

  23

  The Pits was, well, the pits. It was gross. Coming up to it, everything changed. The type of people walking around went from, well, ordinary-looking people to more disheveled, to kind of disgusting. Some of it was clearly those who worked in the pits, but others seemed to have given up on life and taken shelter in the Pits. And then there were the pits themselves. There were literal pits. Lots of them.

  Every block contained its own pit. There’d be some walls or fences around it, and what looked like offices. Carts coming and going, coming with obvious trash, going with different objects. And each place had a name and a color associated with it. I was insanely curious about what was going on, but I figured it’d be best to save my questions until I finally got to the guy I was going to see. And it was a little past midday at this point, so I was also keeping an eye out for something to eat. But the smell wafting from the pits was noxious enough to annihilate any hunger.

  I weaved through the blocks, and things were continually weirder. I saw a few large wagons, flatbeds, with massive things hidden underneath wet canvas. The things moved. And I definitely, at least once, saw tendrils or tentacles peeking out from under the waterlogged cloth. No idea what it was, but definitely disturbing.