by G. Akella
"Wait!" the elder ran out after me.
"What now?"
"Bear the torch, Master Krian, do us this honor..." Seeing my incredulous gaze, he clarified. "The funeral pyre outside the village. The undead are probably all incinerated by now, but not our people..."
"Let's go," I nodded.
It took about an hour to prepare everything. The funeral pyre was constructed at the local graveyard—tons of logs stacked to around ten feet, adorned with flowers and white ribbons. The entire surviving population of the village, around eighty people in all, stood around the pyre in perfect stillness—the women's faces stained with tears, the men's stern and solemn. This had stopped being a game a long time ago! No game could construct that kind of palpable sorrow in a woman's eyes, or severity in a child's.
I accepted the burning torch from the elder's hands, and brought it to the edge of the pyre with a heap of straw. It caught fire instantly, as if I'd poured gasoline over it, breathing hot air into my face. I tossed the torch onto the pyre and stood there for a while, same as everyone else, deep in contemplation. What have you done, RP-17?! Have you taken the lives of twenty million or bestowed life upon billions? What was all this? Unconscionable evil or the greatest good? Finding no answers, I shook my head, despondent, turned and started back toward the village. In the corner of my eye I glimpsed the young black-haired demon in chainmail from before. He was talking to a tall fair-haired young woman, waving his hands excitedly while gesturing my way.
There was a wide bench right outside the stable. With a canopy to protect from the rain, it wasn't the worst place to spend the night. I took a seat on the old cracked wood and lit up, leaning back. The day was slowly winding down, as the villagers were returning from the mass funeral. I caught a whiff of freshly drawn milk and baked bread. If I closed my eyes and just sat there, listening to cattle lowing in their barns and dogs barking in the distance, I could almost forget where I was, or rather convince myself that I was back at grandma's country home back in Russia, the one I'd visited with my parents every summer as a kid. Any moment now I'd hear the floorboards creak under dad's boots coming back from a fishing trip. Then mom would come out on the porch, wipe her hands on a thick embroidered towel, and call everyone to dinner...
"Sil knight, sil knight!" Two kids were standing maybe ten feet away: a boy around seven-eight, and a girl, slightly younger. Both were watching me with eyes wide open; if not for their plain peasant clothes, one might mistake them for characters from an anime. Seeing that I wasn't sleeping, the girl walked over to me warily, and proffered a clay jug she'd been carrying. "Mum said to bling you some milk."
I felt a lump in my throat, and difficulty breathing. Accepting the jug from the girl's hands as if it were the most precious of gifts, I placed it on a bench next to me. The boy came closer as well, offering up something warm bundled up in white cloth.
"Thank you," my voice was hoarse. "What are your names?"
"Dala," the girl smiled. "And he's Helt."
"Hert!" the boy corrected his sister, still terribly embarrassed.
"And I'm Krian," I smiled back at them. My hand reached into my purse automatically, producing two gold coins. I handed them to the little ones. "I have nothing to give in return, so have your mum buy you some sweets."
"Buy where?" the boy's face grew serious. "Feator used to have a fair, but there's no more Feator."
"Feator will be back, and so will the fair," I vowed, clenching my teeth. "I promise you!"
"Will you destloy all the undead?" the girl looked up from the gold coin in her fist, her huge gray eyes peering into mine.
"Yes," I nodded solemnly. "I will destroy them all."
"Hey, can we look at your razorback? We were hiding at home before, and didn't see him. What's his name?"
"Gloom. Gloom is his name."
There was a sharp crunch behind me, and a few seconds later the formidable carcass of my valiant mount appeared in the doorway. Having heard me call him by name, the boar must have decided that the stable's closed door wasn't much of an obstacle. The razorback turned his snout left and right; confirming that his master wasn't in any danger, he walked up closer and plopped down on the ground with a loud exhale.
"He's so huge!" the kids' eyes shone with fear and admiration.
"Want to pet him?" I asked. Seeing the unbridled joy on their faces, I waved them over.
Dusk was gathering over the village. A piece of rag caught on a fence was flapping in the wind, which carried in the scents of grass and pine from the nearby woods. The moon hadn't yet appeared, though the sky was already studded with stars. I gazed up at the sky, looking for the Big Dipper, but it was nowhere to be found. My spirits were lousy. The children had gone back home, leaving me and Gloom alone outside the stable. Having gorged on the apricots, the razorback wasn't in a hurry to go inside, dozing merrily at my feet, exhaling loudly and twitching his ears periodically. His huge belly heaved in tune with his breathing like a bellows.
I got crazy lucky with the death knight, I remembered the recent battle, looking at the sleeping razorback. If not for the crit, how much would I have hit him for? Four hundred thousand? Five hundred? And that's being optimistic.
But what's done is done. I had other matters to occupy my mind, like saving two villages and clearing a level 170 dungeon. And I simply couldn't find a realistic solution, especially for the dungeon. Then again, If I somehow managed to sneak the boar inside, I might be able to handle packs of five mobs or less. How many vials with the venom did I have left? Three? I couldn't just sit still anyway—I had to do something... Little Hert and Dara hadn't looked any different from real children. I just didn't believe that a computer program could behave that way, and that meant those undead bastards weren't killing NPCs. There were probably children in Feator and Uriatta as well... Twenty percent loss in levels as a penalty for dying? The hell with it! I had a job to do...
"May we speak, dar?"
"What?" I looked up, startled from my reverie. The boar at my feet snorted loudly. Was it something in my eyes that had caused the uninvited guests to recoil, or the razorback's sizeable carcass shifting ominously? "I mean, sure. We may speak." I stroked Gloom's warm side reassuringly.
It was the same young guy in chainmail, with the blonde girl to his left, wearing a leather vest and a bow at her back. Looking at her, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen her somewhere. But where? She looked to be about twenty two, with a comely open face, brown eyes, narrow hips, and shoulders a bit too broad for someone with her frame. Well-defined features and a pointed chin... No, I couldn't place her. The fellow's hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He had high cheekbones, a straight nose, and dark brown eyes brimming with the carelessness of a man who had come to a particular decision, and wasn't turning back no matter what.
"We don't want to intrude, but... What are you planning to do next?"
"Huh?" I said, taken aback. "When I leave the village, you mean?"
"Exactly," the lad shifted from foot to foot, glancing at the girl and then back at me.
"Why do you care?" I shrugged. "Go on, have a seat," I motioned at the thick log across from the bench.
"Trust us, it is very important that we know," the youth sat down on the log without taking his eyes off me, whereas the girl didn't move an inch. Her face was an emotionless mask. Her eyes wore the same sense of desperation, only mixed slightly with... hope?
"It's no secret. I'll try to dislodge the undead from Feator and Uriatta, then check out the swamp cave..." I shrugged. "No plans past that just yet. I need to get to the Derelict Temple somehow, the one in Gilthor, but that's too distant a prospect to worry about now."
"We want to go with you," the young demon said breathlessly, leaning forward. "My name is Ayim, and that's Salta. There are twelve more from the two villages pillaged by the undead. The other survivors are still kids, but they have relatives here to take care of them."
"You want to go with me? In what capacity?"
&
nbsp; What a gift from above! Ayim's level was equal to mine, and Salta was just one level lower. Even two companions would have been nice, but fourteen? That was awesome!
I tried inviting the demon to a party, but it didn't work. I sighed and shook my head despondently.
"How do you see this happening?"
"You killed the monster that's been slaughtering our families. We don't care how you use us!" the demon spoke hastily. "Make us your swordsmen, bowmen, squires..."
"Even mounts," the girl interjected suddenly in a low pleasant voice, glancing sideways at Gloom.
"I don't need more mounts," I shook my head. "But how—"
Attention! Farmer Ayim and Farmerwoman Salta request to join your clan.
Do you want to found a clan?
Conditions for founding a clan:
You must not be a member of any game clan.
Attention! If you proceed, you will have five days to pay 5,000 gold to the account of the Realm of Arkon's administration. Failure to pay will result in your application to found a clan being denied, and a three-year penalty will be levied, preventing you from founding or joining any clan in the Realm of Arkon.
Yes. No.
A clan? Well, sure, why not? I had never heard of NPCs joining human clans, but... No, actually, there might have been something of the sort mentioned in the press. I motioned the demons to wait while I reviewed the deluge of system messages.
5,000 gold was a huge sum! This explained where the game's money went. Now, I had the money on me—the problem was that I needed to make the payment in the town hall of any starting city, or... Or wire it from a private room! The nearest private room was in the undead-infested Feator, which I'd planned on visiting anyway...
Confirmed.
Clan menu...
Enter your clan's name.
I stared at the blank line. All this name-creating really wasn't up my alley, but who else was going to do it but me?
"Give me fifteen minutes," I said to the demons.
Having finally taken a seat on the log, Salta stood perfectly still, hands folded on her knees. Where had I seen her before...
Now, the name... No cute or half-assed attempts at humor—this wasn't a game anymore, and I didn't want to be leader of Gummy Bears and whatnot. Something patriotic, maybe? Ugh, none of that nostalgic nonsense—let someone else bear the banner of Russian Bears or Iron Curtain. I was a patriot of two countries—the one I was born in, as well as the one that welcomed me as a resident—but patriotism wasn't about that, not to me. Something menacing or pompous, perhaps? Fires of Heaven, Legacy of Steel, Brotherhood of the Spider? Bah, those names were probably already taken... Why couldn't I think of anything relevant?! Knights of Setara or Ingvar's Warriors? Nah, that smelled too much of boot-licking, and that just wasn't my style. Hmm, what if... I shrugged the steel shield off my back and looked at the drawing. The wolf cub appeared to have grown a little, though he looked just as adorable with huge eyes open wide and tongue sticking out. Almost like a Disney character. Wolf cub, eh, I snorted. Wolf cub it is!
From the side, all my manipulations looked like I'd been handling a leather-bound book in A4 format. I picked up the quill attached thereto, and wrote out the name of my clan in bold strokes.
Congratulations on founding the Steel Wolves clan! After your payment of 5,000 gold, your clan will be inscribed into the Realm of Arkon's chronicles. Do you wish to continue?
Steel Wolves.
Clan level: 1 (1/50)
Clan leader: Krian.
Maximum membership: 50.
Clan bonuses: +7% to physical and magic damage.
Number of castles: 0.
Finances: 0.
Clan treasury: none.
I turned the page, and wrote in four more titles besides my own:
Warrior, Archer, Healer, Mage.
Officers, treasurers, deputies and so on would be appointed later as needed; in the meantime, all the other functions were on the leader by default. In the early going, I'd link the treasury to my own vault, as soon as I got to it. The money wasn't an issue—I could cover the fee and still have about six thousand gold remaining. As for the clan interface, it was so complicated I'd probably need a whole day to figure everything out. Salaries, tasks, XP distribution... the items went on and on! For instance, it was within my power to levy a tax—for everyone as well as for every individual member. Thirty percent of all individual earnings into the clan treasury? No problem. As long as there was a treasury, which wasn't the case just yet. The clan emblem was simple enough—all members would wear it on their cloaks and shields. Oh, and the banner! Heh, did I also need to compose our own slogan and anthem? Never mind, I'd deal with all that later. Shutting the book, I looked up at the pair of demons. Both were sitting perfectly still.
"I trust you realize that my word is the ultimate truth?" I doubted they understood the full meaning of the term, but they seemed to get the gist of it. "You do as I say. When I say it. Always."
"Yes, dar, it is understood," Ayim bowed his head.
Salta gave me an unclear look, then nodded as well.
Attention! You are about to accept a non-player character (NPC) into your clan. This action is irreversible. NPCs will enjoy all the same privileges as the other clan members, in accordance with their clan title. When an NPC joins your clan, their stats will change. In the event of death, NPCs will have a chance to resurrect at their last bind point, depending on the clan's level, and suffer a penalty of 20% loss in levels.
Levels 1-5—0%,
Level 6—20%,
Level 7—40%,
Level 8—60%,
Level 9—80%,
Level 10—100%.
Do you still wish to accept Farmer Ayim into Steel Wolves?
"One last thing," I stared the black-haired demon in the eye. "You realize this is forever?" It was just like me to shoot myself in the foot, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't warn them. It just wouldn't be... human.
"Master," Ayim looked off to the side. "We have no one left. Almost no one. And nobody needs us here. Gvert took us in, and we're grateful to him. But he's just going to keep hiding behind these walls until some other monster comes, stronger than Daeron, and knocks them down. But we refuse to hide. We want... vengeance." The demon closed his eyes, his fists clenched. Then he took a deep breath and continued. "We want to slaughter these beasts, as many as we can. We'd rather die than hide here, trembling with fear. My father and three others had covered our escape, and, as you can see, we're alive now because of them." Ayim held my stare. "I want to be a worthy son."
Attention! You are about to accept a non-player character (NPC) into your clan. This action is irreversible...
.........................................................................................................................
Do you still wish to accept Farmerwoman Salta into the Steel Wolves clan?
Farmer Ayim is now a member of the Steel Wolves clan.
Farmerwoman Salta is now a member of the Steel Wolves clan.
I rose from my bench. The demons followed my lead, bowing their heads. And I... I suddenly felt warm inside. We were three now, and I didn't care one bit that these two were simple peasants. For the first time, I was no longer alone. These demons were the first to stand with me, and I would cherish them for it.
"I... We... We won't let you down, dar!" The farmer's gaze was full of steel resolve. Salta just watched me silently, immersed in her own thoughts.
"I know you won't," I clapped the young demon on the shoulder with a smile. "After all, now we're family."
"Speaking of family, there's also my brother and..." Ayim gestured in the direction of a long hovel some fifty yards from the stable. "They're also, you know..."
"Hold that thought," I opened the party menu, wondering if the result might be different now that...
Ayim joins your party.
Salta joins your party.
Yes!!!
Attention! T
wo non-player characters have joined your party.
Each non-player character under your command confers a +1% bonus to experience gained. The maximum number of non-player characters you can command is 100.
Player and non-player character bonuses under your command: +5% to physical and magic damage, +5% to armor class and all resistances, +5% to healing spells, +5% to experience gained (Knight-Lieutenant of the Order of Punishing Steel).
Party morale: +2 (a 2% increase to party members' physical and magic damage).
Do you want to activate magic voice amplification?
I dismissed the last sentence—I had no need of amplification just yet. So, if every soldier under my command added one percent to experience, I needed a party one hundred strong to counteract the experience lost, or rather shared, with my razorback. So this was why some players took up seemingly boring jobs from their local rulers! Even a measly ten soldiers to command translated to a 10% XP boost, and that was nothing to sneeze at.
I set the master loot option, leaving 50% of the money dropped to the group. I'm going to need to invest in their gear, too, I thought to myself, since their rags didn't instill any confidence. Was that all? Nope, not yet. I still needed to assign clan titles to them. For these two, it would be swordsman and archer, it would seem. Opening the clan menu, I selected Ayim and... sat back down on the bench, my knees weak from shock.
Ayim. Level 145.
Clan fighter [Steel Wolves].
Race—demon.
Agility: 165.
Strength: 585.
Constitution: 495.
Vigor: 145.
Spirit: 30.
Intellect: 30.
HP: 4000.
