The Way of the Clan 7

by Dem Mikhaylov

  “Ugh! No. If you have no plans, I have them. Insidious ones! I already tried to message Shmig in private. But he was imprisoned, and therefore, impossible to reach.”

  “Wait, what? When?! Where?!”

  "Well, either at night or in the morning. They put him in a cell in the royal prison of Algora, on the lower levels, the most forbidden and terrible, surrounded by a special magic blocking communication. Even the air seems to be filtered with magic. This message came to me like this: "The adventurer Shmigovik you are trying to contact is placed in the custody of darkness in the lower levels of the dungeon for his terrible sins before the law. In order to communicate with him, try to talk with the head of the prison guard in the Torture Tower, standing in the middle of the casemate yard, surrounded by a wall of Oblivion." Imagine?! When Bom contacted me, I was sitting in the library of Algora reading the title "Oblivion in the darkness of the prison", and I had read a lot of terrible things. Ros, let us save Shmig? Hm? With a friendly team, with battle cries, while riding a mammoth, breaking down walls, scattering the guards. Help a friend out, will you? Let us save him from oblivion in the darkness of the prison! Is it not a worthy adventure?!”

  “Hmm ....” I was forced to give up. I smiled crookedly. “To take the mammoth, huh....”

  “Yes! Shmig is there! Your comrade! In the dark! Alone!”

  "Oh, believe me, he's used to it. Doc, Algora's prison cannot be taken by storm. We just cannot manage it. This is no regular jail. And also, do not jump to conclusions. Shmig is not a fool. If he went to jail, it means he wanted to.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “Because of yesterday’s coincidence. You cleared the dungeons under the temple successfully, Shmig left - and immediately came to the prison, only, having had only a little sleep in real life .... Do you think I will be a fool enough to believe it's an accident?”

  “Hmm ....”

  “Exactly. And if he needed our help, he would have had time to write. He would have had time to call before he was dragged past the curtain of prison magic. So, just wait for news from him. Visit the Tower of Torture, try to make an appointment, send a parcel with a nice saw baked into a roll, and a compote of explosive berries.”

  “Very funny!”

  “Yes,” I said. “But really. If you cannot find something to do, go to Naykal, help Kirea.”

  "What's she doing there?" Doc lit up.

  "Catching fish. Do not make that face. It's fun, believe me.”

  “Fine. The, first to the Torture Tower, and then to the lake. I am off!”

  “Off you go.”

  “OOf!” Doc jumped strangely from the railing, but got his foot stuck in the fence. He jumped forward, flipped, and fell into the abyss.

  “Fucking Bo-o-o-om!” He shouted with embarrassment and shame as he fell.

  "What’s he got to do with it?" I said, surprised. I called the waiter, who began to move towards me.

  Obviously, I had frightened the kid. That was clear by how pale he was. Two guests had come to my table, chatted with me a little, and then jumped overboard ... and before that, they had been smiling, so happy with life .... Anyone would be frightened. But a "local" especially - they have good instincts of self-preservation.

  I did not have time to ask for the bill - a new message appeared on my screen. This time from Malice, who was wondering where I was. He said it was urgent. I answered. And then received another message, which contained the request to remain where I was. It seems that I would not be able to leave the restaurant anytime soon. I looked at the waiter and asked him for another coffee, telling him that another guest was coming to visit me. The guy’s face fell immediately, and he departed hastily.

  "The sleepless are driving!" Malice greeted me cheerfully, jumping into the restaurant.

  “Hell no,” I said, and took a sip of coffee. “Before you start talking about the main thing, may I make a request?”

  “Go ahead.”

  "When you leave, do not use the door - just jump into the abyss."

  “Hell of a request over breakfast. Okay, I guess. But really? What for?”

  “I am trying to get a discount in the restaurant,” I sighed. “So, why did you write to me?”

  “What do you mean? You know what.”

  "You mean the mana?"

  “Right. We drink coffee and talk, then I jump into the abyss, you get your discounts and pay, and then we meet in the village of Sailing Cape. Do you have transfer scrolls?”

  “Yes, but I have a few other plans here, to be honest.”

  "We need to be able to set priorities," Malice shrugged, and I nodded.

  "It is just that I promised."

  "I will require one hour from you now and two hours in the evening. Will it work?”

  “Yes! Let’s go quickly.”

  “Let’s!” The war mage nodded - and, leaping over the fence, dove into the abyss.

  “Dear boy,” I got up. Holding the coffee cup in my hand, I took a small sip. “How much is it for me?”

  “S-Sir! You won’t believe it - today we have surprisingly low prices!” The waiter quickly responded.

  “Why,” I smiled. “Do not mind if I do believe it!”

  Chapter eight.

  The usual basics ....

  The Sailing Cape was located on top of an ocean village. By the way - pretty close to Akelrome, south-west along the coast.

  The pride of the village was, undoubtedly, a striped beacon standing at the very edge of the cliff, sparkling with a crystal reflector of a magic lantern and polished glass. At night, across the tiled roofs of the village, a wide, bright ray of light ran across the water and land. It is no easier finding the village of Sailing Cape in daytime than it is in the middle of the night. It is quite possible to become lost in the thick coniferous-deciduous forest, but not at night.

  I had never been here before. I knew this place only by remembering fragments of some very old conversations. Surrounding the village is a large fence of oak trunks. The steep cliff protects the village from the sea. I entered through the gates, because the teleport scroll put me about thirty paces from the village’s outskirts. Immediately beyond the gate was a smiling Malice. I was hardly surprised - he was happily communicating with local guards, patting them on the shoulders, giggling loudly, showing something on the map stretched out to him, confidently pointing at places unknown to me. Warning about some kind of danger? Had something started in the district, and had the kindly Sleepless clan hurried to tell them about the terrible danger?

  Noticing me, the battle mage said goodbye to the guards and hurried to me. I showed full compliance to follow any directions, and my future teacher grunted approvingly. Then he handed me a straw-clay jug crocheted with straw, plugged with a dark cork.

  “To drink?” I inquired.

  “Just to try it! A jug costs one hundred gold coins exactly! By the way - its value will be deducted from your share. This wine is from a distant, distant, distant mountain village, where stone houses are completely surrounded by vineyards. The berries are large, sunbathed, washed in the clouds… In short! Take the jug and then go over to that house. Knock on the door. If an old man opens with a reddish beard, then give him a jug and say the following: "Your relatives gave you a jug of wine with an eye, which was grown and collected in their vineyards." Will you remember?”

  “I remember. I think…”

  "But if an old man opens it with an absolutely gray beard, then do not give it to him! And do not show it! If you do, he will take it and break it. Just ask something inconspicuous and neutral: "Where is the well in the village, sir?" Listen and go. Then, repeat the approach. This is the brother of the old man we need. One is ordinary and kind, and the second is awful. You do not suffer from virtual color blindness, do you? Can you distinguish a gray beard from a red one? What color is my magical fist, if I put it under your nose?”

  “Purple. So, okay, I remember. I give the pitcher. And then what?”

  “Then you s
mile and wait for the reward. The grandfather is a local honorary druid, a natural mage, who lives his years in peace, enjoys a glass of wine now and then, and never leaves the front yard. He will put his blessing upon you. And it will be active as long as the grandfather is alive. If he dies, it is done. His brother is just as good of a druid. So do not be surprised when you see a bunch of defensive artifacts, inscribed runes, and other things around the house. But it is better for you not to know what is behind the creature in the ground underneath it - that’s in case of an attack. If the villagers are actually ever raided, they can and will be able to break past the defenses, kill the guards, knock down the palings and plunder a couple of houses. But when they go to the old people's home and they will be very, very surprised when an entire army of extremely spiteful soldiers rises up before them, and something terrible comes out of the earth.”

  “Wild…”

  “Then the teleporters will become active, and some very strong players will come to guard the old man as though he were a real grandfather.”

  “Got it. Enough with the frightening me. Or I will drop the jug. Well, off I go?”

  “Go on. And do not you dare offend the old men! And do not even try to explain anything! Just say - wine from the relatives! And that's all! Be brief, smile, do not bow, and no need for false modesty! Just say it! There was one moron before you. He gave the jug, and then decided to make of himself a humble boy. I am not here for a blessing, I am here for the good of the whole world ... and the grandfather says, in return... okay then, thank you my son, off you go…”

  “Got it.”

  “Break a leg!”

  “To hell with you! And what if he asks me for something?”

  "He will not ask. Go already!”

  “I am going, I am going…”

  Malice was right, two hundred percent. I was fortunate. After the knock came a thin and hunched over old man with a reddish beard and half-closed eyes. I, like a perfect parrot, rattled off the right phrase without stumbling on a single word.

  The granddaddy beamed, took the pitcher, carefully studied it, touched it, sniffed it, and snapped his fingers. Two floorboards panned out to the sides, a green vegetable scourge crawled out from underground, wrapped its tendrils around the jug and dragged it down. The floorboards closed again. I was thanked, offered a modest blessing. I agreed, and after a minute, the door slammed shut. I dashed back to Malice, studying the words that appeared before my eyes:

  You have received a positive effect "Blessing of the old highlander Turrag Snow"

  Your mana reserves are increased by 1%.

  Additional Information:

  This effect does not affect other players.

  The blessing is valid as long as Turrag is alive.

  The blessing is valid as long as Turrag Snow does not remove it - for example, in case of damage done to the relationship with him.

  “Success!” I said, joyfully giving Malice thumbs up.

  “Good!” He said, delighted, and once handed over the award - one more pitcher. “Now, go back. But this time you need another old man, one with a gray beard. Do not dare give it to the red beard!”

  “Why?”

  “Because! He will take away the blessing. He and his brother are in a fight. So do it right. Give the pitcher to the gray-bearded man and say: "Your kin sent a pitcher of water, from the snowy summits of the mountains, water which gives life to the surrounding area and all the kingdoms around it."

  “Oh... please repeat ....”

  Malice repeated the phrase several times, and I managed to remember everything. Then I went back to the house and knocked. The red-bearded man again opened the door for me.

  "Where's the well in this village, sir?"

  "Over there, young man," Turrag smiled at me, hiccupped, and went away, hiding his distinctly reddened cheeks behind the door. Already the old man was well into the pitcher ....

  I waited a couple of minutes and knocked again. A gray-bearded man emerged - twice as thin as the first old man, but with the same bushy eyebrows. I hurriedly explained the reason for the visit, and gave the jug of glacier water, after which he muttered something and gestured at me with a mysterious sign. It was done. I went quietly back, looking in amazement at the following message:

  You have received a positive effect "Blessing of the old highlander Burrag Snow"

  Your mana reserves are increased by 0.5%

  Additional Information:

  This effect does not affect other players.

  The blessing is valid for as long as Burrag is alive.

  The blessing is valid until Burrag Snow removes it - for example, in case of damage done to the relationship.

  Wow….

  I just earned a half percent of the mana reserves. In just ten minutes. While the elders are alive, everything is just fine. I am beginning to feel a kinship with them. I wonder... can I pay the local guards to keep an eye on them? ...

  “Wonderful!” I said in delight. “Is this how we’re going to do it?”

  “Keep dreaming,” Malice snorted, “Consider that the cherry on the cake. You have eaten it, but now it's time to gnaw a little on the rest of it. Come on, rodent, let’s move to the next goal. It's time to pick up the bottle!”

  What exactly it was that he meant I learned soon enough, and after another transit by magic teleportation. For almost an hour, I followed a wobbling of a beggar on a dusty street in the town of Onion Joy, which is a pretty cool settlement with houses of dark red and light yellow brick, surrounded by several kilometers of onion gardens. Yes - only onions are planted here, and that means they are everywhere, including in pots on the windowsills and in the huge gardens. The main square of the town is decorated with a giant flower bed, full of - you guessed it - onions. Fifteen of so kilometers from the city was located a slightly smaller village called Garlic Joy .... So I got lucky, I suppose.

  I killed a lot of precious time during the next lesson - a beggar of an indeterminate age with one large coil instead of hair scattered the seeds of scarlet tulips everywhere. I helped him, portraying myself as a sower. We scattered the seeds among pots, boxes, flower beds, vegetable gardens. The seeds poured generously .... And more generously, garbage was poured on us by the extremely bitter inhabitants. Poured, in the literal sense of the word - from the windows, and with the help of buckets, scoops, troughs and other containers.

  I was showered with rotten vegetables, fruits, rotten eggs and other "riches" that everyone could find in his own garbage can. Not just me, but also the unnamed beggar who hired me as aide in exchange for a small bottle of a certain elixir made according to a family recipe. We made a large circle of along the central street, and behind us, a group of boys ran, shouting as loud as they could:

  “Again this damn vagabond! Damn beggar! He’s killing our onio-o-o-ons!”

  They swore at me, too. The residents were all very unhappy.

  "Again? And you brought backup?!”

  “Get out!”

  "Out of here!”

  “What the hell does he think he’s doing!”

  “Stomp on them, trample down the tulips! Take away the seeds! Throw them into the fire!”

  "Here’s what I think of you! And you!”

  "Get out of town!"

  "What gives you the right to plant here? Call the mayor and guards!”

  The guards, however, were here, but did not intervene. In general - it was not worth it.

  When I crossed the finish line, I looked like a very strange and smelly creature covered with a thick layer of muck. I was handed a slimy bottle plugged with a piece of rag. Inside, there was something gray, reminiscent of a spoiled mushroom, with some carrot slices. It was repelling, and not desirable to drink at all. Thanks God, it is not required now – it is the stash for future.

  The elixir gave a ten percent increase of the original amount of mana for a period of one hour. The hour of shame was equal to the hour of the increase in mana. Also, when using the elixir, the player w
ould smell like tulips for two whole days - not even smell, but stink. The smell, though floral, was extremely strong - it would be the same as overturning a bottle of perfume on yourself. But it was worth it, for sure - unlike auras, spells and other elixirs did not have conflicts with other means of enhancement. What is even more interesting - you could drink someone else's bottle, but you would not get the effect. Call it indigestion of the digital stomach. Only those who did a full circle under the hail of garbage would receive the bonus. Given the fact that rumors about players in Valdira move quickly, few players would agree to such a walk under the rain of stinky slime.

  The beggar smiled shyly, with his surprisingly white teeth, and beckoned me to follow him, with a wave of his hand, but I hastily shook my head and shrugged - I would have liked to take another swim in the mud, but time was pressing. As Malice warned me in advance, the tramp was calling me to do the circle in the neighboring town of Garlic Joy. He would give me one more bottle that would raise health by the same number of percent.

  By the way - Malice himself was sitting in a cafe and enjoying fresh croissants and hot chocolate. Looking at me from a distance, he smiled encouragingly, pointed his head towards the nearest pond, and promised:

  "I will write you a letter in the evening. Keep scrolls of teleportation on you. And store the bottle immediately in your private room! As soon as you are free - immediately take it to a safe place. This is well worth it. Do not lose it! Good luck to you….”

  "And to you," I answered, trying not to accidentally swallow a piece of the egg dripping from my face, the remains of a bright green shell and a blue yolk. “And to you .... Ugh…. Damn it! Malice!”

  “What?”

  “Is it going to always be this way? Garbage thrown at me, making acquaintance with strange types, bottles with mushrooms in them and the rest?”

  “Ros, and what do you want, buddy?” Malice looked at me with a surprisingly piercing look. “To spend no more than half an hour and get a twenty percent increase in mana for eternity?”