I extended the magical jewelry in my open hand:
“Oh, wise Phylira, accept from me this gift of jewelry from the distant stars! Among a race of cats that fly through the heavens, like that gray-furred Miyelonian, only the wisest and most respected rulers can wear these earrings, which help the wearer move faster beyond just being a beautiful adornment. It is not only a huge rarity and value, but the true mark of a legal ruler! In two journeys to the stars, I managed to find just one such earring, and now I bequeath it to you, Phylira!”
Fame increased to 48.
Authority increased to 23!
The gift worked it’s magic, as they say. The Centaur Matriarch was overjoyed like a little girl seeing a new doll. She whinnied, galloped in a circle and boasted aloud. Finally, Phylira settled down and returned to negotiations.
“Gnat, I wanted to speak with you exactly, because I know you. Of all the people I’ve met, you are the most capable negotiator, and the least likely to fall back on force and threats. Now, your people are building fortifications beyond the Big Woods and refuse to even talk with my Centaurs, killing all our messengers. We are also killing their people, but still. I’m afraid it could lead to a big war. I wanted you to speak with your people and stop the construction on our land.”
I had to admit, this had me bewildered. As far as I knew, there had been peace with the Centaurs for a fairly long time. Over the last month, there were only a few minor border scuffles, both here on the Antique Beach and near the pass in the Yellow Mountains. But we hadn’t built any new fortifications in either place and, for now at least, we hadn’t even attempted to do so on Centaur land.
“Where is the illegal fortification?” I clarified, and she pointed her head confidently to the south.
“There, four of the territories you call nodes away. And here are the heads of the trespassers!!!”
Phylira unclipped a bag strapped to her zebra half and dumped a collection of decapitated human heads at my feet. There were lots of them. And meanwhile, the centaurs accompanying the Matriarch began to bellow out war cries and wave their blades menacingly. However, they kept their distance.
I tried to maintain composure. I bowed down and picked up one of the heads by a shock of long blond hair:
Head of Klaus Schweiger, level-26 Builder (trophy)
Too bad the faction name wasn’t shown in the object description but, in any case, the name led me to believe this was most likely not a player from Russia. I quickly skimmed over the other heads at my feet and only confirmed my first impression: these were the remains of players from either the German, Austrian or Swiss faction.
“Phylira, I really need to speak with these people and tell them they are in the wrong. Will you allow me passage through your lands?”
The mare reared and neighed loudly, then repeated in a way I could understand:
“We not only will let you through, we will provide security. No one wants a big war.”
Now that was great! I tossed the head aside with disgust and activated my radio:
“San-Sanych, have you made it far from Border Post Eight?”
The driver answered almost instantly:
“Gnat, I haven’t gone anywhere yet. We’re still unloading barrels of water. Has something happened?”
“There’s a very interesting situation brewing here. We need to book it through four nodes to check on something. Is your car in decent shape? It won’t fall apart on such a long journey? And do your antigrav pancakes have enough power to get us there and back?”
“Come on, you offend me! My cars are always in excellent condition, ask anyone! My fuel tanks are almost full, and the pancakes have enough charge to last all day. But I need to warn the Capital, so they send someone to replace me. Where are we going?”
“South through Centaur lands. They say they’ll allow us to pass. In fact, they will clear the way for us, and get us out of the mud if we’re ever stuck. I was just made aware of something that requires immediate action. I think I’ve found the Germans!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine. Listener
THEY CALLED THE PERESVET an “ATV”, an abbreviation for all-terrain vehicle. One might think such a vehicle could thus drive anywhere, on- or off-road. But either this ATV was not up to snuff, or the name is deceptive, because we spent more of the next few hours stuck dead in the mud than going anywhere.
The metal mesh tires, which had amazed me so much when I first encountered the ATV and did have the distinct advantage of never popping, showed their true colors in the thick sticky mud. And they were not all rosy. Each of the eight wheels would fill with a ton of black swamp muck, which then had to be meticulously cleaned out of thick wire mesh. It just seemed impossible. My impression of the engineers who invented the wheels shifted from general admiration to something more exclamatory with a couple four-letter words.
If not for the centaurs, goat-like satyrs, and muscle-bound minotaurs helping us along, we never would have made it even a quarter mile. But even with NPC’s eagerly helping to drag our ATV out of each and every mud patch, it was rough going. I didn’t know what the nodes to the south of the Centaur Plateau were officially named, but I marked them on my map as “Mud, no roads,” “Definitely don’t try to drive here,” and “Total shit!!!” Meanwhile, I calculated that one minotaur could lift seven to nine hundred pounds, because it took twenty of these powerful giants to lift our Peresvet and drag it to firmer ground.
In the morning, I warned the centaur mare that our mission was purely peaceful, and that we were not going to war with the southern men. Phylira wanted the same outcome, but still was going to get more clans together to show them the full power of the Antiquity Faction. And seemingly, the mare managed. In the depths of the forest, I could see more and more columns of dryads, satyrs and other classical mobs joining us.
Nevertheless, I only managed to appreciate the full scale of Phylira’s army in the evening, when we left the swampy tropical forest to an open area and, with the help of the satyrs, started washing off the Peresvet in a shallow stream. Our vehicle looked more like a huge ball of mud than an ATV by then. Anyhow, by then I could see hundreds and even thousands of members of the Antiquity faction flowing through the hilly valley. I simply lost the gift of speech when seeing the huge warband. I estimated their number at around eight or nine thousand.
Eagle Eye skill increased to level fifty-nine!
Cartography skill increased to level fifty-two!
You have reached level sixty!
You have received three skill points! (total points accumulated: six)
My Scanning, Eagle Eye and Cartography skills had been growing periodically all day. Even Astrolinguistics went up by one and, finally, it was enough for a level-up. But I was in no rush to distribute the free points. I had more urgent matters to attend to.
Nine thousand warriors! It seemed even the NPC’s should have been losing their minds over such a grandiose spectacle. The chiefs, after all, could just take their power, say to hell with negotiating, and decide to solve the issue by force. That could not be allowed!
I looked around and saw Phylira in the distance on the top of a hill. Leaving Kisly to watch over the satyrs fervently cleaning our ATV, I called the nearest centaur over and, not asking permission, jumped on his back. Tini followed me immediately. The large centaur male first was taken aback at our impudence and started to buck, but he quickly settled down and made peace with it.
Successful Authority check.
Authority increased to 24!
“To Phylira!” I shouted, pointing at the elder mare, who was conversing with the other chiefs on a hill, and the Centaur understood.
After a three-minute gallop, I jumped off next to the chiefs of the Antiquity Faction. Four Centaurs, a huge scarred one-horned Minotaur and two Dryads, whose nakedness was almost totally uncovered. Hrmph... Phylira with her level-121 was the youngest of all the chiefs. None of the others were below one hundred fifty. Despite the modest level of my Gnat in comparison
, they all bowed to me, and I replied with an identical gesture of politeness and respect. Tini had opted to hide his information, so the chiefs also bowed to him. After all, who could say how powerful this weird alien was?
“I see that you’ve brought sufficient forces not just to convince the people to the south, but to blow their fortress to pebbles!” I said, making a wide arc with my hand over the many thousands of mythical warriors.
Phylira was the only chief who understood my language, so she had to serve as translator.
“Exactly right,” agreed a huge red-maned Centaur, a level-160 Patriarch. “You are observant and wise, Gerd Gnat. The council of chiefs has changed its mind about conducting negotiations with the human trespassers. Why bother, if we can teach them their lesson once and for all!”
So, I wasn’t wrong. Hmm... This wasn’t shaping up the way I wanted. But what to do? Trying to convince the warlike NPC chiefs was utterly useless, I could sense that. It would just make me look bad and lose my unique position as a human the centaur leaders and other mobs could talk to. No, this would turn me into someone they wouldn’t even let speak. But I also could not allow this massive horde to wipe out several nodes of one of my world’s factions, thus weakening the overall position of my Earth.
“Here’s what I think...” I started carefully choosing my words, “just killing these border-hoppers is not punishment enough. After all, they’ll respawn in a quarter hour without losing anything and will rejoin the battle. And that battle will kill your friends and relatives once and for all. The humans won’t even know what happened, and they definitely will not realize it was a punishment for trespassing. That’ll just make them think... excuse me for being direct... that Centaurs and Minotaurs are too dumb to negotiate.”
“And what do you suggest, Gerd Gnat?” Phylira asked, translating the whinny of a fierce Minotaur, clearly offended at my words, but still understanding that they were sincere.
“I suggest we take your whole army to show them the crushing might of the Antiquity Faction, surround the unfinished fortress and its garrison, but not attack. Before you strike, let me and my group communicate your faction’s fair demands. My guess is that they will leave your territory and establish a clear boundary, which they will respect and observe from then on. Also, we could have them hand over the fort to your faction in perfect condition. But if the Centaurs and Minotaurs don’t want a fortress, I say let it become a free market where you can all sell your goods to these people and buy what you need from them — hopped grain wine, weapons, unrusting metal, beautiful fabrics and light airy dresses...”
I saw the Dryads begin to smile and wink at one another. The Centaurs were also seemingly not opposed, but the Minotaurs were frowning. I had to hurriedly make some changes:
“Also, this might intrigue you, oh powerful chief of the Minotaurs. People can heal wounds and even grow new horns to replace those lost in battle. As a sign of your victory, I would demand a new horn and lots of strong drink for your army. After all, you brought thousands of warriors through dense forests and stagnant bogs to get here! But if they are unreasonable and refuse, you can grind them all to dust, capture this and the neighboring fortress, then decorate the new border with stakes topped by their foolish heads!”
Psionic skill increased to level thirty-three!
Fame increased to 49.
Authority increased to 25!
The Minotaur finally nodded in agreement, the council of chiefs ended quite abruptly, and Phylira voiced their decision:
“Alright, try, Gerd Gnat! A new horn, a clear border and at least thirty barrels of beer are our minimum demands.”
* * *
WE RETURNED to H3 lands long after midnight and, just after reaching the first green zone in the Yellow Mountains fort, we hurried to exit the game. We were rushing because we’d been hearing an urgent announcement for the last few hours. The faction was holding an emergency meeting, and everyone was required to attend, except those guarding the borders and working at crucial production facilities. Gerd Tamara even called me personally a few times. First, she contacted me to tell me about a meeting for directors and advanced players that was supposed to precede the big meeting. Then she asked me to confirm something Ivan Lozovsky said, that I had voted for him as leader.
We were extremely late for the big meeting, at least three hours. But it wasn’t over yet, so we tried to join and hear what leadership had to tell the players. Still up on the fourteenth floor of my corncob, I noticed a big group of people next to the athletics fields and saw that lighting under the Dome was still in daytime mode. Next, chasing after each other, Anya, Imran and I ran down the spiral staircase and tried to sneak unnoticed into the huge audience. Unfortunately though, we were spotted. As soon as I got near the crowd, a few voices trumpeted out: “Hey, Gnat’s here!” And they demanded I come up on the stage.
And come on stage I did. As they looked for a microphone for me, I whispered to Tamara:
“So, what did you talk about at the directors’ council? And what have you been discussing here?”
The serious dark-haired girl whispered back without turning her head:
“The Dark Faction tied up Tyulenev and dropped him off at the border. He’s in prison now. Lozovsky became a Gerd, and he also was elected faction head almost unanimously, only one opposed. The Dark Faction base in the Poppy Fields has been destroyed, the harpies did a real number on it. But five hours later, the Dark Faction came back with a little response. Hundreds of forest spirits and kikimoras draped in explosives tried to blow up our base in Karelia. The Second Legion was almost completely laid out. No more than ten soldiers survived. But, by some miracle, we held out and made minced meat of those NPC’s. But now, the fort and half the buildings don’t have walls. Then, an hour later, a second attack wave arrived, including flying harpies. But we were ready and the two Priests and I managed to remove the control charm from them, so all the mobs dropped their suicide vests and dispersed.”
I had to admit that had me very on guard. By hiring the NPC harpies, we’d accidentally opened a Pandora’s box. And our enemies were fast learners, who quickly took that painful lesson to heart. From now on, we faced both the threat of direct conflict with the Dark Faction and the risk of random NPC raids, both by hired agents and mind-controlled beasts...
“And now...” not hiding her exhaustion or annoyance, the yawning Tamara led her hand over the audience, which was humming in dismay. “The new leader Lozovsky has decided to prove himself a man of democracy and discuss the Dark Faction’s offers. To my eye, that was a big error... We haven’t yet come to a consensus and, right before you showed up, we nearly voted to capitulate and accept an offer of vassalization. We’ve been chewing the fat and pontificating for three hours now, but we still haven’t made any real decisions. And the funniest thing is that there is no way back now. Lozovsky assured us he came ready for dialog and would listen to every opinion. Now, we’re seeing where that gets us.”
“I see. And why was I dragged up on stage?”
The dark-haired girl shot me a tortured smile, giving a clear demonstration that she was still working on her facial expressions, though she was getting better:
“You know, it’s the same old song... I was hoping they wouldn’t be mad at you anymore. And that was basically true, but as of today their hostility is back out in the open. They’re really raging, demanding the leadership explain why they keep indulging you and what makes you so different from everyone else. They’re also asking about the captive Princess, the alien merchants, your Miyelonian companions, and the investigators, who many players seem to think you brought down here. Also, instead of working a normal shift on the Antique Beach today, you drove off somewhere else, which didn’t go unnoticed and upset a couple players... This is gonna be hard for you, Gnat. Get ready, they’re really upset. I can support you if it gets too crazy, though!”
Tamara fell sharply silent, because they found another microphone, and Aleksandr Antipov handed
it to me with the words:
“Well, who better to explain Gnat’s gameplay than the man himself? Come on, Gnat. Don’t be shy! Tell our players what you’ve been up to!”
As soon as I took the microphone, the crowd started humming in dismay, demonstrating a clearly negative opinion of me. I could hear many hard-hitting invectives. They were demanding I explain myself and damn-near apologize. Did they seriously think I would do that?! Naive! Well, you wanted a memorable explanation, here you go! I smiled predatorily and raised the microphone:
“Many of our players enjoy discussing strategy and politics with an expert eye, especially those with a clouded impression of the true state of affairs. But very few truly understand my role in the faction. And it’s no wonder! Such lofty matters as conversing with the leaders of great alien races and obtaining new technologies for humanity are not for those of limited intellect! Yes, you heard me right! My main mission is to get as many starship designs as possible at any cost, along with specimens of high-tech apparel and weaponry. It is not the simplest mission, let me tell you, and there are no easy formulas or rules to guide me. But still, I’m plugging away and I have been quite successful! The designs I already provided have advanced science by decades and brought humanity that much closer to interstellar flight!”
In short, I dumped a stream of inflammatory declarations on the audience. Not expecting such an aggressive charge, the crowd fell silent, listening attentively but not yet having determined how to react. I decided to build on that momentum:
“The leadership thinks Prospector Gnat is unique, and that no one could duplicate my successes. But maybe our directors are wrong. Maybe someone out there could replace me. Who of you could conduct negotiations with an incarnation of the Miyelonian Great First Female, a creature who can easily read thoughts? And could anyone here obtain information for the impatient and bloodthirsty Kung Waid Shishish, the great Geckho military leader and sovereign of our home planet? Or maybe one of you thinks they could survive on a space station teeming with bloodthirsty pirates… Anybody?”
External Threat (Reality Benders Book #2) LitRPG Series Page 31
