The Road East (Epic LitRPG Adventure - Book 2) (Fayroll)

by Andrey Vasilyev

  He collapsed, but immediately started to pull himself back up. I saw that his health was already dropping into the red zone. He was far from dead, however.

  “Oh, I’ll get you,” I muttered as he stood.

  It was insulting how little attention he paid to the strikes I was landing. They had no chance of sending a Level 102 player to Valhalla.

  “Don’t even think about running; I’ll catch you regardless,” he said, baring his teeth.

  I knew I’d be able to get away from him, but I also knew that he’d be able to turn his attention on Milly if I did. “Why won’t you die, you brute!” The girl was practically foaming at the mouth.

  “Why should I run away from dead meat like you?” I asked in an effort to antagonize him still further.

  “Dead meat? Dead meat?” The Wild Heart yowled and tried to throw himself at me.

  Needless to say, he was in no condition to try a maneuver like that, and I was able to dodge his attempt easily. I was even able to slice into his arm and was surprised to see him drop his sword.

  “What? How…?” The Heart stared at me in surprise.

  “Just like that,” I answered, no less surprised.

  “Ooph.” Some dwarf with a Hound of Death emblazoned on his chest broke into and finished our conversation with one swift stroke of his battle-axe.

  “What are you standing there talking for?” he yelled at me. “To wa-a-ar!”

  Off he ran back into the thick of the battle, which had gone from covering the entire courtyard to being focused at its very center. It appeared the Wild Hearts had simply ceased to exist.

  “Thanks,” I heard from behind me.

  I turned around to see a battered Milly Re standing next to the cocoon that had replaced her former adversary.

  “Ah, no worries,” I said with a face that made it clear how very ordinary it was for me to go around saving beautiful, battle master women. “You’re alive, so thank God for that. Though, seriously, you were incredible… Right in the Adam’s apple.”

  “Yeah, he got me all worked up. Some of the stuff he said when they were pressing me… You guys are horrible sometimes!”

  “It’s true,” I said. “Especially, when we’re drunk.”

  “Well, we routed them,” said Milly, confirming my own thoughts. “Another five minutes and they’ll be finished.”

  The courtyard was littered with innumerable cocoons. That was all that was left of the incredible number of players who’d been slaughtered in the meat grinder.

  “The Apotheosis of War,” I said softly.

  Milly heard me and nodded.

  “It’s always like that after a siege. An eerie sight. Once the last few of them are dead, our people will start collecting everything. They’ll mail our guys’ things to them and then send everything else to the clan storehouse to be appraised.”

  “Appraised?”

  “Yeah. All the loot from the dead bodies and the castle is counted, then they send the equivalent in gold between everyone involved in the assault and capture.”

  “Oh, I thought you could go do some scavenging after the battle,” I said, visibly deflated.

  “What’s stopping you?” asked Milly with surprise. “There’ll be time for that. You can’t take anything from the bodies, since that’s against the rules, and you can’t rob the clan storehouse either. But if you can find anything in the rooms or anywhere else, like in the vaults, you’re welcome to it. And they have huge vaults here. Not even vaults; dungeons. That’s how it always is after battles.”

  I perked up. Fighting was good, but looting was even better.

  “I haven’t seen Gedron. And I only saw Diord at the very beginning,” said Milly.

  “Who are they?”

  “Gedron the Elder is the Wild Hearts’ clan leader, Diord is their clan master. I’m surprised they aren’t here. Maybe they decided to slink off somewhere?”

  “Oh, they probably just took a portal to who knows where,” I supposed.

  “Nobody can port anywhere during assaults—it’s against the rules. Not from inside the castle, not from outside it. You have to get about three miles away before you can. It’s a year before anyone can port from citadels, at least, if they fall. If they withstand the attack, of course, you’re good. So they’re here or somewhere nearby. I need to go tell the Witch.” Milly ran toward the citadel exit.

  A little ways off, she turned and called back to me.

  “Thanks again. I owe you one.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I mumbled as I walked toward the wall, sat down next to it, and looked back to see what was going on in the center of the courtyard.

  The battle was no longer a battle; it had turned into a massacre. The best warriors were mercilessly cleaning up the remains of the Hearts without even noticing that the latter were no longer putting up much resistance.

  Five minutes later the Wild Hearts formally ceased to exist.

  “Well, what have we here?” I heard the Gray Witch’s voice and jumped up. The clan leader walked through the gate and looked around. “Thank you, my trusted warriors, and you, valiant allies. This was a glorious battle, and one that will go down in the annals of the Hounds of Death.”

  A friendly roar broke out and shook the walls of the citadel.

  “Cedric, my friend,” the Gray Witch said to the clan master. “Take down the flag of the defeated clan.”

  “Your will is my command, mistress,” answered the warrior with a bow. He ran up the stairs toward the entrance to the main tower, above which flew a banner with an enormous green heart.

  “Go with him,” the Witch ordered three more warriors. “The Hearts may not all be dead. They probably have someone guarding the banner, too.”

  The trio hurried after Cedric, armor clanging.

  “Look at this,” said the Gray Witch as she looked around once more. “Theirs not to reason why… Fredegar, sweetie, are you here?”

  “Yes, mistress.” A scout walked over to her.

  “Hurry up and take care of the remains. Quite a few people died, we only have three hours. Oh, and the clan storehouse…”

  “Already taken care of, mistress. They’ve probably broken in already,” answered the scout.

  “Excellent. Ah, and there goes the flag.” The Witch shaded her eyes from the evening sun setting behind the tower and watched the flag flutter its way down the pole.

  Shouts and the clang of sword on shield rang out once more across the courtyard.

  The flag slipped lower, and a ringing sound boomed out, almost as if someone had struck a gigantic bell.

  “Well, warriors,” said the Witch, “the Wild Hearts have fallen. You have three hours to loot, so I give you this castle to loot and pillage—well, except for what’s forbidden. Don’t touch the remains of the dead or the clan storehouse. And whoever can tell me where the leaders of the Wild Hearts are can have their pick of our clan storehouse. If you can kill them, the same is true.”

  “What, did they run?” asked a voice from the crowd.

  “Yes,” the Gray Witch said with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, let’s go. Time’s ticking!”

  One more shout gripped the courtyard as the crowd poured into the castle, though it was short and sweet. Pillage, and, if they were lucky, violence. Why else had they shed blood?

  I watched them go and realized I didn’t stand much chance of getting in. Nobody, on the other hand, seemed that interested in the vaults. They did hold some risk: there could be enemy forces holed up down there, and it would have been embarrassing to die after victory had been secured. It would have been especially bad if nobody happened across my remains before they were entombed. As I stood there lost in thought and trying to figure out what to do, Valent came up to me.

  “Good work, Thunderbird,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You were incredible…”

  Valent wants to add you as a friend.

  Accept?

  “It would be an honor,” I said, bowing to the warri
or. “Why aren’t you off looting?”

  “Oh, I’m not a fan. And what are you doing standing here?”

  “I’m more interested in checking out the vaults since I haven’t spent too much time in castles. I’m thinking about heading down, but I’m a bit nervous about it.”

  “Worried there’s someone down there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There probably isn’t. They know that everything’s going to collapse in three hours, and they’d be stuck down there forever. No respawns.”

  “Why not?”

  “Simple. There’s no suicide in the game, so you can’t just fall on your sword. You won’t die of hunger or thirst. And there isn’t anyone down there to kill you. So, it ends up being a prison. You either wait until the citadel is restored or make a new account.”

  “Wow.”

  “Wow is right. Much better to just die in battle. If you’re still worried, though, let’s do this: I’ll be waiting here anyway, so I’ll come down and find you if you aren’t back in a couple hours. If someone does catch you, I’ll collect your things and mail them to you. Sound good?”

  “That’s great!” I was thrilled. “Thanks so much!”

  “Which vault are you going into?”

  I glanced around and liked the look of an opening on the left side of the courtyard.

  “Over there.”

  “Okay, just don’t get lost. There are all kinds of passages underground, so be careful.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  His words made me think of something—where were we?

  I opened my map and looked to see where I’d been dragged off to.

  It turned out we were on the northern part of the continent, which was awfully fortunate.

  I called after the warrior, who was already walking away. “Hey, Valent?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are we in the North?”

  “Well, not exactly,” he said, coming back over. “We’re a little ways from the North. Look.”

  Valent pulled out the same map Reineke Lis had shown me.

  “We’re here. There’s that river, the Belyanka, and on the other side, is Kroytsen. Beyond the city, are the Rina Mountains, and beyond the tundra, is the North.”

  “Is it far to the city? And can you sail down the river?”

  “Sure. There are boatmen, and three or four hours walk that way is one of the wonders of Fayroll—the Three Kings Bridge. Go check it out, it’s pretty incredible. Then it’s another two hours to Kroytsen.”

  “Are the mountains passable?”

  “The mountains? Why not? In Kroytsen, you can find smugglers to take you through the pass. They’re NPCs, so you don’t have to worry about them betraying you, and there are always enough people looking to go for you to get a group together. It isn’t cheap, though. And it’s dangerous, what with the yetis, the ice devils, and everything else up there. You should probably wait a bit before making the trip. You can go under the mountains, too, through the old mines, but that’s definitely not for everyone.”

  “What level should you be to cross the mountains?” That question was key for me.

  “Fifty or fifty-five, I’d say,” said Valent with a scratch of his head, “or something like that.”

  “Thank you,” I said with complete sincerity.

  “You got it.” Valent waved and walked off toward a group of warriors who were standing around discussing the attack. They didn’t look too eager to get in on the plunder either.

  Well, that was that. The North was looking even better than the East. At least, it wasn’t that far away.

  I walked over to the entrance to the vault and paused to wonder one more time if it was worth going in. Definitely. Greed won over, and I started down the steps.

  Chapter Six

  In which we learn the finer points of deal-making.

  Once underground, I craned my neck looking for a torch. If it was like all the other games I’d played, it should have had a torch hanging on the wall—and it should definitely have been lit. I was wrong. There was no torch, though to be fair, there wasn’t much need for one. It was pretty easy to see in the vault thanks to the light provided by glowing moss covering the walls. I imagined the developers had put it there for just such a reason.

  That was a happy development, as torches were fickle. You carry them around and just hope they don’t burn out at exactly the worst moment. Here was everything Michurin[6] could have ever wished for—your everyday glowing mold illuminating the path to riches. And I was more than ready for some riches! They’d help me pay my way to Selgar, most importantly, seeing as how I had no desire to walk the whole way. I set off in search of the stashes, sure I’d find at least a few.

  An hour and a half of wandering around later, I was about to admit that I had made a mistake. I’d been down any number of passages, most of which sloped up or down. In the process, I’d seen niches with some kind of rusty chains, bats, spider webs, and an incredible figure of some kind of strange half-bird, half-bear figure holding a torch. It was artfully cut into the wall there at the lowest point in the vaults. I couldn’t go any further, as my path was blocked by a ruined gate that somehow smelled like strawberries. I have no idea what the gate was or what kind of strange creature created it, but it captured my imagination.

  I was starting to worry that I might get lost and be unable to find my way out. And I wasn’t even sure that I’d be in the castle if I did find a way out—I’d covered quite a distance. On the other hand, I was sure that if I gave up the ghost down there, my belongings would be gone for good. Even I wouldn’t have been able to find them, to say nothing of Valent.

  Speaking of lost things, I was under the impression that the only way to lose something was by dying. It turned out, you could lose things just in the regular course of the game, for instance, if you got drunk or went tumbling down a mountain slope. There was a small chance, something like one or two percent, that something you had with you would go missing from your inventory, never to be found again. Social realism in practice.

  At some point, I came to the conclusion that I had no idea which way to go. I pulled up my map. Needless to say, it had no intention of showing me the vaults and surrounding areas.

  Twenty steps later, I stumbled across an underground intersection. Behind me, was the path I’d been on, and in front of me, it forked off into three different tunnels. I had to pick one—but which?

  I crouched down by the wall and stared at the three choices. The one on the left was ruled out right away because it sloped downward and exuded a nasty smell. As Gandalf always said, “Follow your nose.” Or something like that.

  The one in the middle didn’t look too bad. It wasn’t sloped, and it smelled fine, though there was still something about it that I didn’t like. The same was true of the one on the right. I sat there for a good five minutes and was already finding myself leaning toward more out-of-the-box thinking. One thought was to go against my intuition and take the left-hand path; another was to just use a children’s rhyme to pick between the center and right-hand tunnels—eeny, meeny, miny, moe. But just then, a flash of light in the tunnel on the right caught my eye, and I was intrigued to notice that it was the light of a fire. A few seconds later, I heard some unintelligible voices as well.

  The chances of an encounter with other players in that darkness ending in a pleasant surprise or a tombstone were about equal. Coming toward me in the right-hand tunnel could have been allies or even clanmates, or they could have been Heart remnants. Although, what was the difference? If they were friendlies, they’d tell me how to get out, so long as they weren’t lost themselves. And if they weren’t, at least I’d die like a man. I wouldn’t have to spend weeks wandering around for an exit that might not even be there in the first place. The official entrances and exits to and from the citadel would be collapsing in an hour.

  And so, I headed down the tunnel on the right without bothering to be too surreptitious about it. As I got closer, I heard wha
t the mysterious underground dwellers I was walking toward were talking about, and my fears were allayed.

  “Stupid elf! I told you there wouldn’t be anything down here. And now, there’s no point heading back, since everything’s long gone by now,” said a deep voice.

  “Oh, give it a rest! You think there was a lot up there? And it’s nice down here.” His friend disagreed.

  “You think this is the first time I’m seeing something like this? I’ve been through a few caves in my time.”

  “This is a vault, Fram. Which of us, by the way, is supposed to like being underground?”

  I sped up and, coming around the corner, saw the speakers. They were a dwarf holding a torch and an elf, something that didn’t surprise me in the least. They had heard footfalls approaching and prepared for battle as soon as they saw me.

  “Whoa!” I held up my hands. The dwarf had some ground to cover before he could get at me with his axe, but the elf had an arrow strung and ready. “Friendly! From the Thunderbirds clan!”

  “Ah, all right,” said the dwarf, relaxing his grip on the axe. “Find anything good?”

  “Nothing whatsoever,” I admitted. “It’s completely bare. Plenty of passages and stairs, and even some little corners, but there isn’t anything in them. Just dust and bat droppings.”

  “Oh, I can’t stand bats,” said the elf prissily.

  “I knew there wouldn’t be anything,” the dwarf said with a clap. “Just like in the forest; if you can’t smell the mushrooms, that means they aren’t there. Screw you, Fally.”

  “My name is Falialin,” the elf answered with resentment in his voice. “And this stubborn mule insists on calling me ‘Fally.’”

  “It’s simpler,” muttered the dwarf. “That’s what names are for. I’m Fram.”

  The dwarf clapped his fist over his heart, his armor clanging from the blow.

  “I’m Hagen. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too. Okay, Fally, let’s get out of here,” said the dwarf imperiously.

  “Time to head back?” the elf asked.

  “Why? We have another half hour, so let’s see what we can find around here,” answered the dwarf. “Hey, man, by the way, you’re welcome to come with us.”