Wolves of the Lost City: A litRPG Novel (Adventure Online Book 2)

by Isaac Stone

  This was all I was going to get from this plot cache. It was a small item for such a large plot one, but the carbine and ammo we could use. I shoved the note into my pocket and took the carbine with its bullets.

  I left with the carbine in my arms. The contact information paper was in my pocket. I didn’t know who this obsidian trader might be, but he had to be an important person if he was included in the game. I made my way out on the station platform to see the sergeant and Tommy supervising the removal of our supplies. As I expected, Howard stood off to the side and watched the mass of humanity leave the train. I watched as the cars slowly elevate when the occupants vacated them.

  Manish would present me with a problem further down the trail. I didn’t feel confident to take him along for the full trip. Even if this was a game, he was still quite young and a wild card in this scenario. I could use his street smarts in a large town or city, but I didn’t see how they would be of any help where we were headed. I consulted my logbook and found it to be blank in regards to him. Man, they really hadn't seen it coming when I added him to the team, he didn't even have a profile. I had to find a place for Manish in this town before we went deep into the forest.

  My answer came in the form of a pair of nuns who escorted some primly dressed children out of the train. This had to be a convent school, which I could use to keep him until we returned.

  “Excuse me, sister,” I said to one of the European women who wore the habits of an order as she walked the children onto the platform. “Are you connected with a school for children?”

  She stopped and gave me a look of surprise. It had to be the uniform. Works every time.

  “Why yes,” she said. “We run the convent school of Our Lady of The Mountains. Why do you ask?”

  “I have a favor to ask of you,” I said. “My godson is here with me and I need to lodge him with a respectable group of people for a short time. Do you have any openings at your school?” While I talked to her I thumbed through the logbook, which showed me her school was legitimate.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Is he a local child? Our school was founded to help the local children and most of them have parents who board them with us. I’ll have to check with our mother superior before I can answer.” She seemed confused and in a hurry to move onward.

  “I think this small donation should help,” I told her as I slipped my calling card into a roll of money. I’d prepared many such rolls for the trip and hidden them in my clothes. Apparently being a long time captain in His Majesty's Army was a pretty decent gig.

  She looked at the roll and the card too. I could see that both impressed her.

  “I suppose if you are in dire straits we could manage,” she told me. “When would you return from you trip?”

  “A few weeks,” I told her while motioning to Manish. Not knowing what I wanted, he scampered over to me.

  “This is my godson, Manish,” I told her. We’d managed to get some decent clothes on the boy before we left for the expedition.

  “This is…,” I started to say to him, as I had yet to get the name of the nun. I looked up at her for help.

  “Battelle,” she told me. “Sister Battelle. Don’t you want to tour our facility before you leave him?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I told her. “I’ve already heard many great things about your school and order on the-“I looked at the logbook- “west side of the town. Your school is the only one around here where I would feel safe in leaving him.”

  I turned to Manish. “She will take care of you until I return from my trip. Then we will find you a permanent place to live.” I gave him a hug and he returned it.

  “What was that all about?” Howard asked as I returned to the crew. All our supplies were packed in two carts pulled by water buffalos.

  “I needed to find a place for the boy before until we return,” I told him. “This trip is no place for a child and I finally decided to leave him behind until we get back.” I handed him the carbine and ammunition I found inside the long box.

  “Nice model,” Howard said as he looked it over. “It will come in handy. Not going to ask were you got it, as I recall you had a knack for finding useful things.” He placed it in the back of the second cart. I noted the watchful eyes of two local troopers who guarded the train station.

  I stood there and watched Manish march off with the column of children as the two nuns took them away. I knew the decision to leave him with the convent school was the best one I could make. Where we were headed was dangerous and no place for a child. Leave deadly situations mixed with children for old movies, not this reality. Even if this was just a game, I could not play that sort of character. Maybe by the time I was back they'd have given him a backstory.

  I glanced at the logbook again. Now there was an entry on the obsidian dealer. Arsan was listed as a merchant with many unsavory connections and rumored to be involved in the smuggling business. He was known all over the hills and forests. His age was listed at 35 and it was said he’d came here from China, but no one knew for sure. If anyone had met Major Buttersnipe on his trip into the jungle, it was Arsan. He ran a small trading post in the village of Chandra, our last stop on the trail before we passed into the frontier. From there, we would be deep into lands unknown by anyone.

  Our trip to the village didn’t take very long. The drivers knew the path and took us on the most direct route to the village. I rode on top of the supplies. I noticed Grom and Tommy walked along with the carts as they made their way over the hills.

  Arsan’s trading post was the first one we approached when the carts pulled off the muddy path and into the village. It was hard to miss since it was the largest building in town. As most of the dwellings were small and modest, the trading post towered over everything else. It appeared to be made from bamboo and palm leaves, as was all other places in the village. The only stone building was the temple, situated in the middle of the main square.

  There was no sign out front, as anyone in these parts knew about the business he ran and what he supplied.

  “Pull up in front of the trading post,” I told our driver. “I need to talk to Mr. Arsan.” The driver nodded and whacked the water buffalo on the rear to get it to move in the right direction.

  Once the cart quit moving, I leaped off it and entered the thatched post. By now, the sun was out again and the heat made me weary. The only protection I had from it was my officer’s hat, which didn’t give much. I could hear my boots squish on the wet floor as I walked through the entrance and went inside.

  The air was a little bit better inside. I still had to deal with the heat, but at least the sun was gone. I looked around and noticed three men behind a counter that consisted of a board mounted on two wooden barrels.

  Two were local men and wore the white kilt favored in these parts. They examined some hide brought in by a local hunter, who waited patiently while they checked the quality of it.

  The man I wanted to see was tall and had his black hair neatly trimmed. He sat back a few paces behind makeshift desk and examined figures and notations in a set of double column books. The character sheet inside the logbook listed him as a level 3 criminal, which was close to an underworld boss. He was not be messed with, but could provide plenty of valuable information.

  He looked up and started to look back down at the books until my uniform registered in his mind. Then he looked back up and glared at me.

  “Can I help you, captain?” he asked as Arsan noted my insignia.

  “You might,” told him as I went up to the opposite end of the counter where the transactions took place, I put on my best uppity officer face and went for it. “I’m looking for information on a man named Major Farnsworth Buttersnipe. Hell of a name and a hell of a man. I believe he passed through this location several months ago.” I noted the piles of obsidian behind Arsan, all sorted according to weight and quality.

  “Oh, him,” the trader mouthed. “I remember the good major. He came in here asking abo
ut that jungle city of Virkya. I told him it was a myth, but he insisted it was all true.”

  “Did he leave the same day?” I asked Arsan.

  “I don’t know. I assume he stayed around for a while. He had several people with him to carry his supplies.”

  “Did he have a box with him about 8 inches long by three inches wide?” I asked. The courier box was the whole reason for our expedition.

  “How should I know?” Arsan replied. “I didn’t see anything with him. He came in here alone.”

  I shoved a bill in front of him and waited. When he remained silent, I matched it with another one. Negotiation was a skill level the character sheet rated him very high upon it.

  Arsan reached out and took the two bills from me. “I was told he had a box with him in his cart that never left his side. I didn’t see it inside my post, but this is what I’ve been told.”

  I thanked the trader and left his post.

  When I emerged from the post, I was greeted by the form of a British Colonial Administrator. He wore the khaki uniform of the day and had his arms folded. He positioned himself between the post and my cart.

  “Captain Vince?” he asked me. I nodded.

  “Welcome to Chanda,” he told me. “Lackendow telegraphed me you were on the way this morning. We still use the telegraph out here because the radio signals aren’t reliable.”

  I shook his hand and introduced him to the rest of my party.

  “They said you’re in search of Major Buttersnipe, is that correct?” he questioned me.

  “That is the mission,” I told him. “I was unaware it was common knowledge by now.”

  “Word can travel fast out here, even if all we have are telegraphs. I think you need to know there are German Commandos in the forest. I’d be careful when you enter the frontier. I don’t have many men here with me, just a few local guards and I don’t pay them a lot. I’d hate to pay them to bring your bodies out.”

  “I am honored you would feel such concern for my safety,” I told the administrator.

  “I would do the same for any Englishmen who venture this far out on the fringes of the Empire. I missed the major when he passed through this town. Therefore, I give you the warning I should’ve given him.”

  “Again, I am honored. What can you tell me about these commandos?”

  “They’re a Nazi Death Corps,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve heard they take no prisoners and expect the same treatment from us. They’re all tall, thin, blond and handsome. In other words, everything Hitler and company aren’t. But they are fanatics and will kill anyone who gets in their way. I don’t know why they are here, or what they’re after, but I would take care, captain."

  “I will keep you advice in mind,” I let him know.

  “I would recommend you shot at the first sounds of the German language,” he let me know. At which point the administrator walked away.

  “We’re popular already,” Howard told me. “I overheard. We have Jerries in the jungle to worry about.”

  The deep forest, or jungle, was a massive wall of green from the rear of the village. I watched from the edge of the cultivated fields as insects rose in the air of the afternoon and swarmed over the trees. I could see several trails which led into the foliage, but had no idea which one to take into the interior. Only the villagers knew the best ones and they had no interest in hiring themselves out as trackers.

  “There is a problem with these people,” the administrator said to me as we watched the steady work of cultivation in the distance later that day. “They don’t want to anger the sprits of the jungle. They’ll do just about anything else, but they believe that jungle will demand a sacrifice if they lead a European into it. Buttersnipe hired several local men to take him to the city he wanted to find and they never returned. Now they believe the jungle will demand more sacrifices if they help us. They won’t tell you ‘no’ to your face, but if you try to hire someone, they’ll keep raising the price until you give up. Or they’ll tell you someone is sick and needs looking after.”

  He took of his white hat and shook his head. “I just don’t understand them. You think by now they would have figured out a better way to survive. How can anyone continue living in this manner?” He stood there and watched the bare-chested farmers in their white kilts direct the water buffaloes.

  It seemed to me the villagers had figured out the best way to get the colonial authorities to leave them alone was ignorance. We’d find our objective in a few days and be gone. They would have to stay here and deal with the consequences of the next power group that moved into to replace the previous one. It might be German, or some other group. These people were far outside the settled areas of the subcontinent and didn’t identify with anyone beyond the borders of their town.

  I decided to try to navigate the jungle myself with the help of my team. By now the logbook showed a map which led into the forest and indicated the best trails to take. It gave me the weather outlook (rainy) and the type of animals and insects who lived in the forest (most that wanted to eat us or lay eggs in us). Best of all, it showed the relative location of the lost city, although the legend indicated that the city would not be easy to find and was covered by a thousand years of forest growth. I expected to find a number of temples in the midst of the greenery, but I doubted they would be easy to locate. With the forest reclaiming the ruins of the city, we could walk right over it and not see a thing. I was certain the game designers would keep that aspect of a forgotten civilization.

  As an archaeology student many years ago, I’d dreamed of finding some ancient civilization lost the vestiges of time. I wanted to be another Schliemann, minus the dynamite, and find my own city of Troy. With the ability to use satellite imagery and more, it shouldn’t be hard to find some new culture no one knew about. But it never happened. Such expeditions and digs were financed by people with deep pockets. They didn’t have much use for mere archaeology students.

  In an hour, as “Captain Vince”, I directed the men with me into the jungle interior with our things on a cart. A lone water buffalo pulled it. I felt it should get us close to the city, when the jungle became too dense for it to pull the cart through the trees, we might be forced to let the animal graze. The data sheet for water buffaloes didn’t have much information on them.

  I climbed back up on the cart and expected a dull trip until we reached the general location of the lost city.

  Two days later, we encountered Nazi death commandos in the forest.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I’d managed to keep Rhonda informed of our progress with the gun handle communicator, but she didn’t let me know what was in store for us. The VR team kept its mouth shut and didn’t even drop hints.

  The four of us made a campfire at a clearing near the trail. Private Tommy roasted a deer over the fire as Sargent Grom walked the perimeter. He was always ready for something to happen. Howard had his new carbine out and busied himself cleaning the mud off its barrel.

  I notice a plot cache not far from where we sat. This was the first one that appeared on the logbook map in days and I was eager to see what the game designers dreamed up for the scenario. I should have known things were too quiet over the past few days.

  Using a compass, I located the cache box with little difficulty on the south side of the clearing. It hung from a tree and was easy to locate. They hadn’t even tried to hide it.

  The box was no more than six inches in diameter. I checked the map again and it appeared on it at the given location. I was very excited to be here because the map showed us to be no more than six miles from the lost city. I prayed the game would soon conclude and I could collect my money and try to figure out a way to stop Sandstone Gems from destroying Wolf Mountain. Weirdly though, it felt like I was already doing something about it, in some small way, by pushing through this scenario. Having Howard here felt like a step in the right direction.

  The lid lifted from the box with little trouble. I didn’t even have any problems i
n removing it from the rope where it dangled from the tree. I peeked inside while I listened to the birds chatter in the tree above me.

  It was a music box. This one did not have a key to wind it. I noted the spring was already wound when I picked it up out of the box.

  What I didn’t notice was the small lever below the box, which set the spring into motion.

  Startled, I dropped the container as the box I held began to play a very loud and familiar sound.

  It was Deutschland Uber Ales.

  I dropped the music box and, as I did so, the gunfire began from the tree line. These weren’t random shots, whoever aimed at us were trained to take out enemy troops as fast as they could. It could only mean one thing.

  The Nazi Death Corps knew we were here.

  Before I could even shout a warning, the other men were down on the ground. Grom had his rifle up and returned fire at the tree line. Private Tommy worked his way over the muddy ground to slide next to his sergeant. Howard found a small boulder near the fire to use as cover.

  I crawled through the mud to reach them. I didn’t want to call attention to myself. I knew the men I was with were all supposed to be seasoned veterans with high skill levels in regards to accuracy and evasion.

  The only member of our party who wasn’t able to get out of the way was the water buffalo. The Germans killed it first as they wanted to prevent it being used by the team.

  I could hear orders barked across the clearing from the tree line in German. From where I crawled, I could see movement on the other side. It was impossible to tell how many were out there, but I guessed three from the pattern of the gunfire. I guess the seemingly endless gunfights with those bootleggers on Wolf Mountain had given me an instinct or two for this sort of thing.

  “Did you get any?” I asked Howard as I crawled next to him.”

  “Can’t tell,” he told me. “Too hard to see through that green mess.”

  I’d stuck the logbook in my uniform earlier in the day and pulled it out. From the map, it appeared the best course of action would be to make for the lost city. It might have crumbling buildings we could use for cover. It was to the west and I could find it with my compass.