by Paul Kite
I, without hesitation, shared my thoughts with the elf, but for some reason, he reacted with a complete lack of care. He advised me not to bother and to not look for problems where there were none. However, he was an NPC, it wasn’t a problem for him.
“So Dazrael, where are we going?” I decided to break the silence after a few minutes.
I still had the time to look at things as we walked along the road, and I did so, since I was interested in everything—the architecture of the city, the presence of the guards, and, most importantly, the players, who, surprisingly, didn’t care about the duo dressed in black, light armor and hurrying somewhere on business.
The area with the portal was far behind us, and now we were making our way between the courtyards of solid, low houses made of stone and wood. I wouldn’t have thought that Siaren had been built by the drow. Still, the history of this city could prove to be unpredictable. It’s not like I knew it.
“Let’s go to this tavern, it belongs to my old friend,” looking back, Dazrael explained. “You'll wait for me there. I have something I need to take from a man.”
“Is it necessary for me to wait?” I asked. “Maybe I can go with you.”
“No!” the elf replied rudely. “You'll wait for me in the tavern, that's out of the question.”
“What if something unexpected happens?” I kept pressuring him.
I didn't want to be alone, in an unknown city, in a strange place, where anyone could see me, not only NPCs, but the players as well, since there were a lot of them, as I’d noticed!
“What could possibly happen to you? Who would want you?” the light elf chuckled darkly. “Order something to eat and drink. I'll be back in an hour. Don't worry.”
There it was, the tavern—it was a small, one-story wooden building with a courtyard behind it. The sign was above the door; it had a picture of a bird carrying a fish in its talons, and under the bird there was the inscription ‘Sea Hunter’. We went inside, and the elf immediately took me to the counter, behind which a tall, thin drow with a black patch over one eye was standing. He looked like a pirate, judging by the outfit. Dazrael has very interesting friends, I thought.
“Hello Arnel.” the elf greeted him happily.
“Ahh! Dazrael, my friend!” the drow jumped the counter in one quick motion and warmly embraced the light elf. “I haven't seen you in ages!”
“Well, I've had no time to visit you, my friend,” the elf shrugged. “You know, work, commitments…”
“Of course!” Arnel waved his hands dismissively. “The famous master of Shadows does not spend a day without working. What brings you to my humble tavern? Are you going to order your usual?” the drow called out to one of the carriers with a tray.
“Alas, I'm not drinking today.” Dazrael stopped him. “I want to ask you to keep an eye on him,” and he nodded in my direction. “He's going to sit here for an hour, okay?”
“No problem,” the drow agreed. “Should I feed him?”
“Indeed. If he orders something, I will pay for it. Okay, I have to run, have a good time,” the elf was about to turn around, but he didn’t get a chance to do so.
“And who is he?” Arnel asked, squinting at me slightly with his only remaining eye. “Your disciple or what? Judging by the clothes, he is one of yours.”
“Hmm,” Dazrael wondered, grinning. “Yes, something like that. A disciple. He’s been inflicted on me like Vegor’s own curse.” The elf turned away and headed for the exit.
“Well... disciple,” the drow mocked the light elf’s voice, “what’s your name?”
“Kraven,” I said readily.
“Well, you’ve already heard my name. I am the owner of the ‘Sea Hunter’, the former captain of a very powerful and high-speed vessel. Oh, what a time that was!” The drow shook his head, sighing. “Maybe we should drink something stronger, to commemorate our acquaintance?” He suggested suddenly, without any transition.
“Thank you, but I’d rather not,” I refused. “Where can I sit? And could I have some tea or something like that, along with some buns or a pie?”
“Some tea, buns... What about alcohol?! Don’t you drink?!” The drow was genuinely surprised. “Hmm, what a strange human! You’ll make me drink alone.”
“Of course I drink,” I hurried to explain. “Just not today. So, where should I sit?” We were standing like two trees in the middle of a field. If for Arnel that was the normal way of things—he was the owner of the tavern after all—I was attracting too much attention. Although, there were no players here, only NPCs, but still.
“Over there,” the dark elf pointed to a table in the corner of the tavern, to the right of the rack. “Your order will be done soon; I’ll deliver it to you.”
Ten minutes passed. I calmly sipped something resembling tea, but tastier, and savored the airy and soft apple pie. I even relaxed a little. During this time, no players appeared in the tavern. Only NPCs. I shouldn’t worry.
Suddenly, the entrance opened with a crash, and a noisy, merry crowd burst in… Players! At first I thought I could’ve been mistaken, but then I looked more carefully at one of them —a dwarf with short pigtails on his head—and the system highlighted his name, clan and guild membership.
“Damn...” I swore and immediately lowered my head so that I could watch what was happening without being noticed.
I knew it! Hopefully they don’t end up noticing my class and the fact I’m not an NPC.
“Hey! Owner,” a man with an ax on his belt shouted in a loud voice. He was wearing fur. “Give us your best swill and a roast to snack on.”
They were three drow—two guys and a girl—a barbarian, two dwarves and two humans—also girls. Too many people for this small tavern.
The drow players persuaded, with words and coin, some peacefully sitting NPCs to leave the tables nearest to the entrance, and then, with the help of the dwarves, moved them together. At that moment, Arnel approached the barbarian and they talked loudly about something. To be more exact, they argued. The owner tried to drive away the noisy group of players, but in vain.
“Shut up!” The barbarian was tired of listening to the drow and grabbed him by the shoulder, which made the elf frown fastidiously.
“I'll call the guard!” the drow uttered threateningly, not trying to escape.
“Yes, and?” The barbarian grinned. “And what will you tell them? We're behaving peacefully. And so, the guards can do nothing. And you’ll have trouble for making a false claim. Just do what we ask,” he released the drow. “And don’t be afraid, we won’t destroy your barn. If we break some dishes or furniture, you’ll be paid.”
The drow wanted to object again, but, thinking it over, gave up. He asked only for them not to start fights and disturb other visitors. He understood he wouldn’t be able to get rid of these guys. He let them stay, hoping they wouldn’t destroy the tavern or kill anyone. Who knows what they could have in mind?!
“And ale for everyone, on us!” The barbarian shouted. “Hey, people,” he waved his hand, attracting the visitors’ attention, and looked at them carefully, as if searching for someone. “Kkh-khm,” the guy realized that there were only local NPCs in the tavern (except me, of course). “Okay,” the barbarian continued more quietly, “we have a party here. Forget it. What a hole in the wall, only NPCs,” he added, even quieter.
The players drank, talked, joked and had fun. They seemed alright. But the owner still periodically glanced at them with displeasure and irritation, which they didn’t pay any attention to. Their tables were full of food and drink, and nothing else interested them. Even the dissatisfied NPCs.
But then I noticed that one of the girls was periodically giving me a slightly surprised and interested look. Then she leaned over to the dwarf sitting next to her, and whispered something in his ear. He carefully looked at me, said something to his friends quickly, got up and walked confidently up to my table.
It was weird, they’d drunk a lot, but the debuff for intoxicati
on, which the system always reported almost immediately, had not been activated, judging by their perfect coordination of movement. Admittedly, I hadn’t watched how much they’d drunk, I just noticed the empty bottles that were sent from time to time to a spot under the table with a clinking noise.
“Hey, man,” he waved his hand in front of my face getting my attention. “Would you like to join us? I see you're a player, too. Come on,” he smiled amicably.
“No, thank you,” I said, raising my head and looking at the dwarf. “I'm waiting for a friend.”
“What friend?” the dwarf’s question sounded quite friendly, but something was wrong, I could judge by the strong interest in his eyes and the silent group of players that was intently watching us.
Where are you, Dazrael?! I prayed mentally. The hour is almost up. Oh, I'll let you have it later! How irresponsible you are!
“A drow,” I said. I didn't want to ignore him and start a conflict, though, apparently, it was inevitable.
“A dro-o-ow,” the dwarf said in a singsong voice. “I knew it when I first saw you.”
He unceremoniously sat next to me, blocking the possible avenue for my escape.
“Can you tell me the secret of how you got your class?”
I could see why that girl had been looking at me so intently. Apparently, she’d accidentally taken a closer look and had been very surprised when the system reported that I was a player. Of course, it was unlikely that the girl was an expert in all the game’s classes, but she had to know the name of the Guild ‘Elghinn Dal Veldrin’, because she was in the lands of the drow. And the dwarf, whom she’d hastened to inform about me, quickly realized what was happening.
What should I do? the panicked thought was bouncing around in my head.
The barbarian was approaching me, and one of the drow blocked the exit out of the tavern, while the rest were still sitting at the table.
Why can't a player hide his data?! What a stupid game! A lot of problems could’ve been avoided!
But, alas, such a function has never existed in the world of Noria, and, as far as I knew, despite the numerous complaints of the players, it wasn’t going to be implemented. If the player wanted to learn more about a character, he only had to look at him carefully.
“Hello,” the barbarian was standing in front of me. “You're an interesting man, Kraven. I look at you and wonder. You have the Shadow class of the Guild ‘Elghinn Dal Veldrin.’ But that isn't actually possible!”
“As you can see, it's possible,” I sighed sorrowfully.
“Well, you’d know better,” the barbarian chuckled. “How long have you had that class? I’m guessing you got it about six months ago. You’re at level 28, that's not bad. Where did you practice?”
“Does it matter?” I answered the question with a question.
“Of course not! My clan is very closely watching all the innovations in the world of Noria,” the man said proudly. “And it's very strange that no one has ever heard of you. We're the first people to see a man with your class. I think the head of my clan would be pleased with this information. It would be even better if you personally told one of his proxies about how such a class could be obtained. Trust me, you'll be well paid!”
“However, you can stay here,” the dwarf added, sitting next to me. “I’ve written to the head of the personnel Department and the chief of Foreign Intelligence.”
“Dear visitors,” Arnel suddenly appeared next to us. “I think you're breaking the rules of conduct in my tavern!” he turned to the barbarian. “I've already called the guards,” the drow slyly winked at me with his one eye. “Do not aggravate the conflict!”
“We have no conflict,” the gnome said politely. “We're just having a nice conversation with this man about our personal affairs.”
“Really? I don't think so,” the drow continued. “Are they bothering you?” Arnel asked me.
“Yes,” I immediately confirmed. “We're not having ‘a nice conversation,’ as they just tried to assure you.”
“Well, then, please, don't go anywhere. The guards of the city will soon come and sort everything out.” Arnel crossed his hands, making it clear to the players that he wasn't going anywhere.
“You’re pushing too far!” the barbarian growled menacingly.
“No, I think not.” The drow did not move. “This is my tavern!”
“Be ready to die, nerd,” the barbarian pulled the ax from the loop on his belt.
“Hush, dear, calm down,” one of the girls hastily ran up to the man and grabbed his hand. “It's not worth it. You're going to wear the mark of the killer if you don't go to jail. Let's wait for our people. They’ll surely arrive before the guards.”
“Giera is right,” the gnome said thoughtfully, getting up from the table. “Watch him and wait. Don't touch anyone.”
They went to the entrance and stood there, to be able to see the whole tavern. The remaining visitors began to leave, realizing that they'd better not linger at the bar.
“When is Dazrael going to return?” Arnel asked me quietly.
“He should’ve already come back,” I answered quietly. “But of course, he’s late.”
“Damn,” the tavern owner hissed.
“Have you called the guards?”
“I haven't,” the drow said in a whisper. “I’ve been bluffing.”
“Why the hell did you do that?” I asked in surprise.
“Well, you know,” the dark elf said with regret in his voice, “I don’t always carry out legitimate business here.”
Wonderful! Just great! Everything has started going so well!
“What shall we do?”
“I have already sent my employees through the entrance to the courtyard. So, be ready, try to sneak away from them.”
“They’ll catch up to me.”
“You have to try,” the drow disagreed. “There is a door behind the counter, then go right along the corridor, to the end of it and immediately to the left. Don’t forget!”
“Shall we wait for Dazrael?”
“What if he doesn't come?” the drow frowned. “I’ve heard that they called their acquaintances. They will be here soon. What do you think, if there are five more people here and the rest are around the tavern, will it be possible to escape? Even if your teacher returns by then, that won’t help us much.”
“But he is a master...” I began, but the drow interrupted me immediately.
“You think too high of them. He can’t deal with a crowd. So, ready?”
“Yeah, just give the word,” I quietly straightened the bag over my shoulder.
“On the count of three. Get ready!”
“One, two…”
“Three” the drow shouted, already on the move, jerking to the counter, and I jumped onto the table without pausing, and from there followed Arnel.
“Stop him, hes getting away!” The loud cry of the barbarian came from behind me.
Judging by the sounds, some of the players had rushed after us and some—outside, had apparently decided to bypass the tavern.
“Be careful,” the drow running ahead warned me, and it was right on time, otherwise I would’ve tripped on various rubbish, dumped in the middle of the corridor.
I heard a roar and a curse from behind me—someone had tried to jump off the counter and ended up crashing.
“This way!” At the end of the corridor, the drow turned left and I followed him into the yard. “And now through the fence,” he pointed to the boxes, which were neatly folded between the old barn and the fence.
Arnel quickly scrambled over them and jumped into the street. There was a noise, a scream and then everything was quiet. Of course, I didn’t like it. I hesitantly froze on the first box. I was between these players and something unknown.
“There he is!” The dwarf was the first one to appear at the tavern door.
Damn! I climbed higher and... It was clear now what had happened—the bound, but still alive, drow was lying near the fence
. Next to him were two elven archers. They had weapons and daggers. There was also a druid in unusual attire, iridescent with all the shades of a poisonous, yellow-green color.
Chapter 13
L ying on the edge of the roof, Dazrael slowly and carefully raised his head, examining and evaluating the fighters standing between the houses below.
“Perhaps it would’ve been worth listening to Kraven,” a late thought flashed through his mind.
And it was true. If he’d gone to that alchemist together with the human and simply left him behind the door while resolving his affairs with the immortal bearing the damned mark (just like Livion), these unexpected problems would’ve been avoided. On the other hand... Maybe they wouldn’t have. Near the alchemist, these omnipresent immortals were a much more common sight. So Arnel’s tavern had seemed to be the best option.
However, the elf had no power over time and couldn’t move it back, so he quickly thought over the solutions to the apparent problem.
Arnel was bound hand and foot and couldn’t help. Kraven? Alas, he couldn’t help either. One of the archers had come up to him and demanded for him to surrender all his weapons. The young man had done it, having no better options.
The druid, the barbarian and the dwarf were the most dangerous. The two tracker-archers weren’t real opponents in close combat. Dazrael didn’t even take into account the girls—two humans and a dark elf—and the pair of lightly armed drow. In his opinion, they were the weakest, and completely useless warriors overall.
“If I beat the druid first, I can handle the rest without any problems,” the Shadow Master summed up.
Activating complete invisibility with a word of command, the elf stood on the edge of the eaves and was about to jump into the very center of the crowd to kill the druid, but suddenly stopped, and cautiously stepped back into the shadow of one of the buildings on the roof.
