Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Vault of the Magi
Book Five
Stonehaven League
Carrie Summers
Chapter One
“ARE YOU SURE you’re okay?”
Cynthia stood in the doorway of the apartment she now shared with her fiancé, Owen, and twisted the engagement ring on her finger. It had been just a week since he proposed, and the band still felt unfamiliar, the square-cut emerald catching on things when she wasn’t careful. But she didn’t regret saying ‘yes.’ Not for a moment.
But things were also…difficult right now. Even though he’d come back to her, rescued from a virtual hellscape where his consciousness had been trapped, she still worried so much about him—things weren’t quite right in Owen’s head, and she wasn’t sure what to fix, or how. Somehow, the engagement made it worse, like she’d become more responsible for his safety and happiness. Less than two weeks ago, she’d helped save his life.
And now, it seemed her mission was to save his spirit.
Owen looked up from his seat at the simple kitchen table, his fingers tracing the scratches in the wood made by the table’s previous owners. Like most of the things in their apartment, they’d recently picked the table up at a second-hand store. For Cynthia, it was still a step up from the battered furniture she’d grown up with. For Owen, son of a wealthy politician, it must have felt like living in a third-world country. But he hadn’t complained. According to him, the apartment was perfect.
“Owen?”
A second passed before he seemed to register her words, and then he blinked, flashed a faint smile, and nodded. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m great, Cyn. Just waking up.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss her concern and shoo her out the door. “Have a good day at work.”
He claimed to be just waking up, but they’d been out of bed for an hour at least. They’d had breakfast and sat together, watching the winter sun through the window. Neither of them was a coffee drinker—she preferred herbal tea, and Owen had a thing for tomato juice. She used to tease him about it, claiming that the disgusting stuff was the one thing that gave her pause about their relationship. They used to joke with each other all the time, poking fun at the little eccentricities and habits that, when collected together, made up a person.
But now their life together felt too serious for that kind of thing. Like each moment was just another chance for things to fall apart.
Or to be precise about it, Cynthia felt like Owen was one step short of falling. He was teetering on a high wire, blind to the drop on either side. And she didn’t know how to bring him safely down.
She swallowed and smiled back, then darted back across the kitchen to peck his cheek. “It’s going to be a nice day. Meet me for a picnic lunch?”
Again, he seemed to require an unnaturally long pause to surface from his thoughts and acknowledge her question. He scratched his neck and looked up at her. “Sure, hon. You don’t mind if we hit up a food truck though, right? I don’t think you want me to prepare a picnic.”
Cynthia forced out a little laugh. “You’re right, I don’t. Not until you make it through cooking for kindergartners at least. Noon at the usual spot?” He’d proposed on a stone bench in a little park near their apartment, a spot they often went to get out of the house.
“You got it.” He reached out an arm and gave her a quick squeeze. It almost felt normal, except that his gaze was already distant. Lost somewhere she couldn’t follow. Somewhere she might never be able to follow.
Owen had recently spent weeks in the hospital, comatose while the evil game AI, Zaa, had used his mind to pilot a demonic character. He’d returned, thanks to help from Cynthia and his guildmate, Devon. But he wasn’t fully the man he’d been. Much like this morning, he was often quiet, speaking only when prompted. The responses he gave were appropriate, but…detached. Where his mind went in the quiet moments, she couldn’t say.
Either way, she hated to leave him, but she had a career to maintain. The gaming company, E-Squared, had said they would pay Owen’s pro-gamer salary indefinitely regardless of whether he logged in. They had also taken care of the hospital bills and compensated her for the time she’d taken away from work to rescue him. She and Owen could survive on money the company put into his account every two weeks, but Cynthia had worked too hard to establish herself. She wouldn’t become dependent on anyone, not even Owen.
She kissed the top of his head and reluctantly stepped to the door. “I’ll see you at noon.”
Or rather, she’d see the parts of him that showed up. She just hoped that someday, the remainder of her soon-to-be husband would find its way back.
Chapter Two
DEVON TOOK A deep breath of savanna air, the light breeze smelling of grass and sunshine with just a hint of woodsmoke from Stonehaven’s campfires. It was morning in the game, a few days after her return from the demonic plane, and she’d climbed halfway up the path that zigzagged across the cliff face behind the settlement. Now stopped, her feet planted on the uneven stone surface of the trail, she faced outward with her back against the cliff, just enjoying the view.
It was hard to believe how many people now lived here. Everywhere she looked in the bustling little hamlet, NPC villagers were hard at work hauling water, spreading mortar atop of stone blocks, and plucking weeds from the neatly planted rows in the farm plots. The sun warmed the grassy areas that were increasingly crisscrossed by footpaths, and roosting on top of the wide, umbrella-like canopies of five massive acacia trees, flocks of little brown birds chattered and basked in the light.
It was almost as if the peaceful little hamlet didn’t lie smack in the path of a coming demon invasion.
Devon sighed as she looked down on everyth
ing she’d built, all the villagers that depended on her. She couldn’t be certain that the evil AI, Zaa, would rebound after she’d rescued his prized general from the underworld, but yeah, she was pretty darn sure. When she’d retrieved Owen, she’d enabled Entwined to patch the vulnerability in their implants, shutting off Zaa from the players’ unconscious minds, and probably gutting his entire leadership. It might slow down the invasion, but it wouldn’t stop the demon horde massing across the Noble Sea. Soon enough, Zaa would train up new commanders, and the evil army would launch for the Noble Coast, intent on beaching their ships and marching for Ishildar.
Stonehaven stood straight in that path.
She scanned the line of the main palisade where it stretched from one end of the sheltering cliff to another. As she’d ordered, sentries occupied each of the simple guard towers along the wall’s length. From Devon’s vantage, she couldn’t see the top of the curtain wall—it lay beyond the main palisade, separated from the taller wall by about twenty paces. There would be guards atop it as well, but not as many. In the case of an attack, all fighters would pull back to within the main encampment. Most would hurry to points atop the palisade where they could operate the trebuchets, light flames under the pots of pine pitch to heat the contents to boiling, or grab bows and shelter where arrow slits offered safe positions to fire on an enemy.
The defenses were sound, Fortification - Advanced, according to the game’s progression system. But they had more to do to get ready.
And that didn’t even begin to address the work that needed to be done on the settlement itself. Especially if Stonehaven were to endure a demon siege, they’d need accommodations for the current inhabitants—some of whom were still sleeping in tents—plus space for any NPCs or players who would seek shelter within the walls. The tradespeople needed adequate supplies to craft and repair weapons and armor, the farm plots needed to be expanded to increase food production, and they needed to start stockpiling simple resources like firewood.
Of course, there was also Devon’s need to find the final relic of Ishildar, an object that would theoretically allow her to take possession of the city. Something about Ishildar was critical in the coming battle against the horde, though no one seemed to know exactly what that was. Typical for fantasy and games, all she was going on was a vague prophecy. But it was probably a true one.
Put together, it meant Devon had to figure out how to split her time between preparing Stonehaven for the onslaught and questing for the relic. Oh, and getting a mountain bike pieced together for Tamara, who would be logging in sometime in the next month or so. She shook her head. How the hell was she going to make good on that problem?
Anyway, there was too much work to do to stand around looking at the view. Her feet crunching on the grit that strewed the stone path, she headed back down the trail and into Stonehaven, turning for the center of the hamlet when she hit flat ground.
“Pardon me, Your Gloriousness. I…well…can I speak with you?”
Devon turned to see Tom, Stonehaven’s head cook, standing on the path behind her. He’d taken off the wide-brimmed hat he wore to protect from sunburn—not that it helped much—and now held it clutched in his fists.
“Of course,” she said. “How’s the chef’s life? Is our food supply still good?”
Tom shrugged, lower eyelid twitching. Incredibly, the man was still nervous around her despite having joined the settlement in the very first batch of followers from the tribe of Uruquat. Sometimes it made Devon laugh to herself to think about the marriage between him and Bayle, one of Devon’s boldest NPC fighters. The relationship seemed to work, though.
“As you can see, we’ve been covering our needs.”
A pop-up appeared.
Rations:
Daily food requirement: 492 basic units/day
Food production: 505 basic units/day.
Devon gave a low whistle. It didn’t seem that long ago when her settlement—it was just a camp at the time—had needed just fifteen or twenty units a day to keep everyone fed.
“It looks okay, but we aren’t running that much of a surplus.”
He looked at the ground in front of his feet. Or maybe he was staring at her knees. Either way, he seemed too nervous to make eye contact. “We are close to capacity, both in supply and in our ability to make use of the ingredients…”
Devon nodded as she paged through the settlement construction interface to the Tier 2 buildings, comparing it to the pane where the requirements for settlement advancement were listed.
Tier 2 Buildings:
- Crafting workshop:
A utilitarian building usable by many crafting professions.
Bonus to: Weaving, Woodworking, Leatherworking, Tailoring, Stone Carving (small).
- Forge (basic):
A forge capable of working basic metals.
Required for: Blacksmithing
- Smokehouse:
Preserves raw meat, fruits, and vegetables at many times the rate of a standard campfire. Does not require a specialized worker to operate.
Can process: 40 units of meat, fruit, vegetables, or medicinal herbs per day. Capacity scales with cooking skill, up to 200 units/day.
- Barracks
Sleeping quarters for fighters. Increases squad cooperation. Sleeps 6.
- Kitchen
Every campfire chef’s dream.
Bonus to: Recipe discovery (x3), Tier 2+ recipe output (x2)
-Warehouse
Basic storage of perishable goods such as leather, preserved food, grain, and cloth.
Capacity: 20 bushels
Requirements for expansion to Township:
- Advanced NPC: 7/25
- Buildings (Tier 2): 10/27
1 x Medicine Woman’s Cabin (upgraded)
1 x Crafting Workshop
1 x Basic Forge
1 x Kitchen
4 x Barracks
2 x Warehouse
- Buildings (Tier 3): 5/15
1 x Shrine to Veia
1 x Chicken Coop
1 x Inner Keep
1 x Leatherworking Shop
1 x Woodworking Shop
- Buildings (Tier 4): 0/2
- Population: 485/500
Devon nodded again. “I’ll talk to Prester and get him to task some of his carpenters with getting another Kitchen and a pair of Smokehouses built.” She didn’t want to mention it out loud, but the threat of a demon siege was in the front of her mind. They definitely needed to get some rations stockpiled, plus whatever materials the weapon and armorsmiths needed.
Tom shifted, eyes still downcast. “Thank you kindly, Your Glor—Mayor Devon. That should help once we have an increase in supply.”
Which was the other problem. It would do no good to increase food production capacity if there were no ingredients. Next, she pulled open the settlement resources tab and scanned down to the breakdown of food influx.
Food supply:
Hunting: 245 units/day
Farm plots (2): 197 units/day (click to expand crop profile)
Chicken coop: 16 units/day
Orchard: 47 units/day
Okay, so that was something else she could work on. The chicken coop was probably near capacity, but she wouldn’t know until she talked to Greel. If necessary, they could build another even though it was a Tier 3 construction. A source of protein would be important if a siege happened.
For now, though, she could definitely improve the farm output without having to run all over town to track down the responsible NPC. Bayle, Tom’s wife, had been the settlement’s first expert in cultivation, and she now managed the plots, drawing help from one of the new citizens.
“How do you think Bayle would feel about recruiting a few more farmers from our booming population. Say…4? I figure if we break ground on two more plots, we can expect to double our crop output in a couple of weeks.” Fortunately, Relic Online didn’t force the settlement to
wait a full growing season as would happen in real life. Between the added fertilizer provided by Blackbeard the Parrot and the natural accelerated growth, it only took a few days for plots to yield.
Tom raised his eyebrows and grinned. “She’ll be happier than a chef with a new sauté pan. But Mayor, there’s something else. A different problem with supply.”
“Oh?” Her mind started running through potential problems that might not be reflected in the UI. Lots of games tried to shake things up with periodic blights or cold snaps. “If it’s something with the crops, I’ll set aside time today to work with Bayle on it.”
“The crops are fine. It’s the hunters, actually.”
Ahh, crud. This again? When the area’s jungle had retreated, and savanna grasslands had taken its place, the jungle wildlife had migrated away. But she’d thought that the fauna of the savanna biome had now appeared in enough numbers to take their place—provided Stonehaven’s hunters and the nearby players weren’t too greedy. The area needed a breeding population to keep supplying meat. If the area was getting over-hunted, she might need to divert resources to a third new farm plot.
“Are they bringing in too much?” she asked.
“It’s not how much. It’s what. For the last tenday, it seems all I’ve had for the stew pot is rat meat and snake steaks. Needless to say, after being spoiled by a Spiced Antelope Jerky and Anteater Surprise, the townsfolk aren’t too happy with Rat ‘n Snake Glop.”
Devon furrowed her brow. “That’s weird. Does it mean we have some kind of vermin problem? I don’t understand why the hunters would chase after rats.”
She hesitated for a moment, expecting a quest pop-up. That was usually how Veia delivered missions, by sending an NPC to explain a problem and then offer a quest with specific objectives needed to solve it.
After a long and awkward pause, the pop-up hadn’t appeared.
“Well, okay then. I’ll talk to the hunters.” She’d been meaning to pay Heldi and Dorden a visit anyway—mostly to see how Bravlon was getting on. As far as she knew, the boy had suffered no ill effects from being kidnapped by a massive capybara who’d decided the child was her adopted son. She glanced toward the pen near the rear of the settlement where that same capybara squatted, munching from a massive heap of hay brought in by townspeople. Devon still hadn’t decided whether she could—literally—stomach the notion of having the giant rodent milked to make cheese, but if nothing else, the animal’s gentle presence seemed to please her followers.
Vault of the Magi: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 5) Page 1
