The rosy aura of heroism that had colored the femorc for a few minutes now faded at once: Devir sent a snitch with me, by the way, providing me with very interesting information: players’ relatives do not become players automatically. In any case they have to go the standard way: minion – recruit – Academy. Associations flooded my mind again: the gods of Ancient Greece and their children. The gods themselves, as was illustrated by Hermes, were players, but their offspring were only minions. Close to players, but still mortal NPCs. Only a few were able to attain the status of gods‒ that is, players. As far as I recalled only Heracles was able to follow that path through to the end. Ok, I would remember that and take note. As for the femorc, I’ll deal with my problems in the order in which they appear. It’s just unpleasant to be reminded again that those from the game class you chose consider you merely a waste. Again.
“Does Logir know?” Sharda kept asking.
“Why would she? Her task is to watch Yaropolk and help him in everything. The mages will do the rest.”
“I see. Do you know that Yaropolk can hear us?” Sharda asked with sudden mirth. "What do you think: will Logir be glad to find out about the role assigned to her if Yari were to tell her everything?"
“WHAT?!” Grygz looked at me, stricken, then at the grinning gnome and then at me again. “But I have cast the Curtain of silence!”
“There are three reasons for why he can hear us. First, he is a world explorer. Second, he is not initiated and has already been subjected to a full stun. You know very well what happens to players like that.
“And you said nothing!” the orc exclaimed in anger, leaning over the gnome.
“The third reason,” the gnome continued, completely unfazed‒he was not at all afraid of orc in the way he was of Devir‒ “I let him under the curtain myself. I was worried the first two reasons would not work. I know very well that Yaropolk will die in the Academy and that now is the last time I am seeing him. But it is he who is our brother, not the mage! It seems your love of your daughter has clouded your mind, since you have forgotten the basics of the class. We are Paladins! Our brother’s problems are our problems! So if you betray one of us to the mages, you betray us all. I will report your actions to the management. Farewell, brother!”
Sharda pointedly turned to the screens, clearly indicating the conversation was over. The orc hanging over the gnome deflated as Sharda had in front of Devir a while ago. The orc even seemed to become practically the same height as the gnome; the weight of Sharda’s words pressed him to the ground.
“Don’t do this…,” the orc finally groaned. “She is everything to me!”
“It’s already done!” the gnome cut him off. "Gerhard van Brast has been informed of your actions. He will make the final decision after the ceremony of return, but in any case, expect Archibald to show up. That is not something that can be forgiven!”
“But he refused to teach her!” The orc roared, attracting the attention of those around us to the conversation. Apparently there was no silencing spell over us any more, as Paladins started to whisper, discussing what was going on.
“That’s her problem.” Sharda was adamant. "If the Catorian decided that she is not worthy, then it is so. He is rarely wrong."
“But he is sometimes!” the orc insisted.
“It happens.” Sharda looked at me for some reason. “We’ll find this out literally within half an hour.”
“Teacher, I followed the mages and they did not notice me!” Logir returned, interrupting the strange conversation between the gnome and the orc. In the Academy they will be dead meat!”
“Excellent,” Sharda praised her and added: “Logir, brother Yaropolk would like to tell you something”.
Since only three stares zeroed in on me, the curtain of silence must have been replaced over us. The players outside could not hear us, and gradually lost interest in what was going on here; their attention shifted to the arena. It was then that banners were brought out to it: the welcome ceremony was beginning.
“So?” Logir asked, bewildered, a couple of seconds later. I was silent, shifting my eyes from Sharda to Grygz, cursing them both silently. What should I tell Logir now? That she had been used without her knowledge, so as to pull her out from some location? How will she react? Will she grin and say that she knew all along? Refuse to become a player? Attack her father or myself with her fists? Perform a ritual suicide? Who knows what orcs are liable to do? I definitely don’t. But I know something else: a Paladin, whose image I had held high since childhood, would never tell. If I am destined to stay in the Academy, I should do it with my head unbowed.
“The way you move is very graceful,” I said finally, having made my decision. The problem with the mages is my own problem. If Logir is supposed to protect me, then may it be so. “Would you give me a few lessons? Unfortunately before I became a player I did nothing of the sort. I would not want to be the bottom student dragging everyone back."
“Who is everyone?” frowned the femorc.
“She will help,” Grygz was quick to answer, sighing with relief. “She has never tried herself out as a teacher, so this is quite a worthy challenge.”
“Still, who are everyone?” Logir would not let it pass.
“There will be seven of you working together in the Academy.” For some reason Sharda stared at me again. “Five of my recruits and two of Grygz’s. The main task is for everyone to come back from the Academy, despite the mages. An additional task is to attain level seven.”
“I will not work with an elf!” the femorc yelled immediately. Her scream never made it beyond the curtain of silence, so Nartalim did not even bother to protest or respond scornfully.
“Oh yes you will,” Sharda’s face broke into one of his murderous grins. “Paladins don’t see elves, people or orcs. They see a brother and his problems. Any questions?”
“She will work as part of a team,” Grygz summed it up. “Even with the long-eared beast. Got that?”
The last question was addressed to Logir. For a while the orc and his daughter played the game of “crush your opponent by your charisma”, then the girl surrendered. Grygz was obviously stronger.
“Our team will include seven intelligent beings, and our main goal is for everyone to come back,” she repeated in a lackluster voice.
“Excellent!” Sharda even rubbed his hands, enjoying his victory over the orcs. "In this case, let’s get back to the others. The ceremony is already underway.”
In fact, by that time the ceremony of bringing out the banners was complete. As soon as the last banner was in place, a blue-skinned creature took the floor.
“Welcome to the welcoming ceremony!”
“It’s the viceroy of the Emperor!” Logir, who was standing next to me, whispered. Of course, an orc’s whisper sounded like a thunderous rumble, but I didn’t mind enduring it for the sake of information. “He is the third highest ranking person in the Game, after the Emperor and his Counselor. My mentor said it’s the viceroy who decides at what location in the Academy a player will appear.”
“Are we not all going to be transported to the same place?” I frowned. I did not want to lose my freshly acquired team.
“No, of course not!” The femorc looked at me as if I were crazy. “Did they not tell you about the principles of going through the Academy?”
“Quiet!” Sharda hushed us. “Show some respect to the viceroy! You will have plenty of time to talk later. All seven of you will be sent to the same place because you are a team!”
Silence fell over the arena as new players hung onto the viceroy’s words.
“Today is one of those rare days when we are sending over thirty two thousand recruits to the Academy; one thousand and forty two of them have already passed the class initiation! We have not seen that in eight hundred years! We have every chance to set a record and within one month receive twelve hundred players! I am calling on non-initiated players! Fight and struggle! Fight each other tooth and claw, but return
from the Academy! For a new record we need fifty nine non-initiated players to return, and we believe that you will be the ones!
I did a quick mental calculation. The ratio of 58 to 31,000 yielded an overwhelming result of 0.2 percent! The viceroy is hoping that at least two recruits from every thousand would come back from the Academy! Unless my calculation was off, those who came up with the Game have obvious problems with rationality.
“I bet ten Granis that the record will stand,” I heard Sharda whisper.
“Go find another fool!” an unfamiliar voice responded, but I did not look back: my attention was fully occupied with the theatrical show that now started on the arena. The viceroy had already left the dais, and actors began showing complicated skits using magic without hesitation. Once a fire-breathing dragon appeared in the arena and was immediately overcome by the conjured knight‒without fear and beyond reproach‒ even the arrogant elf’s jaw dropped in amazement, and he never bothered to pick it up. The rest were not even worth mentioning: players in all the stands, with the exception, perhaps, of smirking mentors, were still as wax figures in Madame Tussaud's museum.
The dance the actors performed was enthralling. I was never a connoisseur, but now I could easily see when the actors presented various emotions: pain, despair, hope, faith, betrayal. The scenes followed each other continuously, and at some point I felt tears flowing down my cheeks from being overcome by “joy”.
“Good luck to the players!” the viceroy’s voice boomed as soon as the actors stopped in elaborate poses. Tears were still standing in my eyes, but I was able to gather my strength to look at my neighbors. Everyone was crying: Logir, Dietrich, Sartal, Monstrichello, an orc who had not yet been introduced to us, and even Nartalim! I shifted my eyes to Sharda, looking at his recruits with a smirk.
“Prove that Archibald can be wrong too!” The gnome suddenly said to me. “Return from the Academy. We’ll figure out what to do with Devir!”
Before I had a chance to make any response everything around me drowned in complete darkness lit only with a snow-white message:
Welcome to the Academy
Chapter Three. Initial Knowledge
“WAKE UP!” I heard a rough voice, followed by a ruthless kick to the stomach. I felt no pain because of the armor, but it was unexpected and unpleasant, so I opened my eyes prepared to show my indignation. But that was impossible! I was able to open my eyes, intending to voice all the thoughts I had – mostly very expressive curses. But my intentions remained just intentions: someone’s hands were covering my mouth. I was pressed tightly to the ground by three players wearing mages’ robes; another two were looming overhead.
“Quit wriggling!” one of the mages growled as soon as I realized my situation and tried to struggle free. Accompanying his words with another kick to the stomach, which was again blocked by the armor, he bent down right to my face: “Listen here, you dead meat! You got a choice – to croak calmly without trouble, or with pain and emotions. If you follow our instructions, we’ll kill you without extra torture. If you try kicking, I’ll send you for such a respawn you’ll curse the day when you became a player. Nod if you got me.
“So you want to do it the hard way,” the mage continued bloodthirstily, failing to extract any reaction from me. Frankly speaking, I was not being heroic – I was scared! After I realized who had surrounded me and held me down I was so frightened, I didn’t even understand what they were saying to me. There was just one thought in my head: ‘Help!’ and it flooded my entire consciousness.
“Let’s drag him over to the teacher,” my captor ordered and stepped aside.
“What do we do with these?” His partner asked, pointing somewhere next to me. "They will sleep for another hour at least. The mentor said the Pals never give any potions to their recruits.”
“What do you mean, ‘what do we do?’” the lead mage sneered. "Devir told us clearly what to do with all the Paladins.”
The mages laughed, and before they lifted and carried me off somewhere I heard six stifled death-rattles. One did not need to be a prophet to realize that our entire team had just been sent for respawn. Another wave of chilling fear rushed through me: Dietrich and the nameless orc were non-initiated level one players; there will be no respawn for them. Neither will there be one for me! They will just strangle me and forget my name! The only reason I was still alive, albeit temporarily, was Devir’s order!
I was saved from further descent into panic as literally a minute later I was thrown to the ground like a sack of grain. The impact of the ground made sparks dance in front of my eyes; however, that helped me keep conscious and drove away the fear. Devir ordered the mages to help me level up till I reach the fifth teacher; so until then they would not do anything to me. I needed to develop as much as possible, level up and figure out a way to escape. For this I needed a clear mind without fear and a feeling of inferiority. There will be time to be scared later, after I return from the Academy. Not “if” but “when”, besides.
I heard a calm, drawling, and somewhat old voice next to me:
“Welcome, recruit, now I will teach you to use the artifact you have chosen. Stand up and hark to my wisdom!”
Learning progress: You have reached teacher 1 of 10
“You were told: stand up!” Another rude shout from a mage, and a kick, this time on the head. The sparks reached a new level: now they turned into full-blown fireworks, so when I came to I was already upright. Two mages were holding me under my arms so that I would stand upright in front of the teacher. He looked exactly like the old man from the Temple of Knowledge.
“Present your artifact,” the old man addressed me. He could not care less about what was going on, as if nothing unusual was happening. So what if a group of mages is holding a Paladin, kicking him periodically? That’s the Paladin’s problem. What if they are into erotic games like that? Once you interfere, they’ll blame you for something …
“Did you hear?” The mage who had never said his name started again, but I decided not to provoke a new fit of rage. I needed to show my kidnappers that I was broken and ready to follow any order from them. Until I reach level two I cannot afford to die, or else I’ll end up like Dietrich. So I’ll play along with the mages for now, and then we’ll see.
I detached the book and held it out to the teacher.
“Book of Knowledge?” for the first time the old man’s face showed some emotion.
“I will be an explorer,” I mumbled, making an exaggerated move to hunch my head into my shoulders, as if expecting a blow. Let the mages gloat. A chorus of loud laughter from the five players and a weakening of their grip showed that I had chosen the right tactic: they did not perceive me as a serious opponent anymore. The mages surely must be betting among themselves whether I had already soiled my pants. Because what else are those Paladins good for…?
“That’s a worthy choice,” the old man ignored the mirth of the mages. “Do you want to transfer to the book all the knowledge you have gained since you became a player until now, or to start from a blank page?”
“Transfer,” I managed to blurt out before the mage had time to bark: “From a blank page! No damned need to hang around here!”
Artifact is activated
The world around me changed again, leaving me one on one with the old man in the midst of a rather strange forest. Oaks in there neighbored tall pines, poplars grew next to palms and birches next to cacti as if nature had decided to completely ignore the logic and biological features of tree growth. As far as I recalled from school, tall pines would obscure the sunshine, so deciduous trees would not be able to grow next to them‒ they would become lanky and weak. But local nature could not be bothered with that: it decided to create a melee of trees, and did so by the right of the strongest. Anyone who is unhappy is welcome to submit a written application on company letterhead signed by the director. In other words: not at all.
Automatically I noted there were several trees not familiar to me, and then:
Book of Knowledge received +1 Experience
“This is precisely how your artifact develops,” the teacher’s voice distracted me from studying a new line in my character properties. I was surprised to discover that section kept extending. That line was not there before. “Book of Knowledge can do a lot, but it is just a medium for your memory and attention. If you did not notice something, failed to see it, did not pay attention or ignored it, don’t expect for a note to show up in the book. The book will receive additional experience only when you consciously pay attention to something or reach the right conclusions. As an explorer you will have to continuously study the surrounding world, otherwise your development will come to a halt. Being an explorer is simple and hard at the same time.”
“Are there any consequences if development stops?” I frowned. "Will the book start degrading?”
“No, once the knowledge is in the book it stays there forever. There is a different problem: a player’s artifact must develop continuously; moderators keep a very close eye on that. As soon as development stops, the player is no longer interesting for the Game. For that reason many choose battle artifacts: it is easier to receive experience with them.”
“So then the player who chooses the Book of Knowledge as his artifact is doomed for sure?” I frowned even more. “Knowledge is finite. Sooner or later there will be nothing left for me to explore.”
“We are all mortal,” the old guy noted philosophically, shrugging his shoulders. “The Game will take everyone.”
“The Game… What is it, anyway?” I immediately asked the question that had been bothering me for a long time. “How did it appear? Who created it? What was there before?”
“You are asking these questions of the wrong rational being,” the old man’s face showed some emotion for the second time in our entire conversation. “My functions include only training in the use of the artifact and assistance in selecting its first attribute. Nothing else.”
The Beginning (Dark Paladin Book #1) LitRPG Series Page 8
