Trial by Fire: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (Archemi Online Chronicles Book 2)

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “You’re the Starborn who is shepherding us tonight? Aren’t you the barbarian man with the dragon?” The Voivoda of Czongrad asked me. She had a shrill voice to much her lemon-pucker mouth.

  “Yes ma’am, that’s me.” I pointed over at the table. “Speaking of security detail, I should really go and see what that guy’s selling. He might have items that could, uh, even the odds a bit in case the Slayer shows up and brings some friends again.” I faked a smile and backed up. “Excuse me.”

  The Voivode looked like he wanted to argue with me, but before he had a chance, I extracted myself out from under Kirov’s arm and fled.

  This was literally the worst kind of party I could think of. I didn’t hate all parties – I liked the kind where I knew everyone in the house, and we sat around with booze and video games and anime and had a good time. But this fancy-pants formal crap? This shit was a special level of Hell.

  I held up a hand to a waiter who tried to offer me wine - I didn’t drink on the job - and fled to the vendor. As I got closer, I was able to see the sign at his table, and felt my spirits lift. He sold stat and ability-boosting accessories, not something I’d seen around the city.

  “Good evening, sir,” he said to me when I was close enough. “And what a sight for sore eyes. I’ve been looking for you and those like you since I arrived to trade in Taltos.”

  “I bet you have,” I replied. “Adventurers, or Starborn?”

  He winked at me. “Both. Now, what can I help you with?”

  “Can I see a list of items and their bonuses and prices?”

  “Of course.” The vendor held up a long hand, and my HUD came to life, displaying a virtual shop window. It was similar to all the other stores I’d used: a grid display of items. If you hovered over one by thinking about its item name, you got its stats.

  This guy had two categories of items: equippables and consumables. I looked over the equipment first, and several of them caught my eye.

  Brawler's Wristband

  19 Armor

  5% Evade

  -3% Magic Defense

  +5 Attack Power

  +2 Str and Con

  250 gold olbia

  Can be upgraded.

  Simple wristbands studded with enchanted green crystal.

  Black Belt

  +20% HP

  +5 Str

  200 gold olbia

  Cannot be upgraded.

  A black cloth belt from Tuungant worn by the monks of Burna. It fortifies health.

  Witch's Bracelet

  +10% magic defense

  +2% magic power

  350 gold olbia

  Can be upgraded.

  A finely made silver bracelet with crushed bluestone crystal worked into the metal.

  Besides these three, he had elemental resistance rings, a necklace that increased attack speed, and earrings that boosted defense. I really wanted the Brawler’s Wristband and Black Belt for me and the Bracelet for Karalti - but damn, they were expensive. Trying not to openly wince, I navigated to the vendor’s consumables, and found an array of mana crystals that could be worked into weapons to give them different elemental effects. These were not as expensive as the accessories, but still pricey. The cheapest, the Cinderstone, still cost 50 gold pieces.

  “How do you attach these mana crystals to weapons?” I asked.

  “Ah. Well, you can’t attach these stones to most common weapons. Once you are Level 20 or so, the world of magical weapons begins to open up to you,” the vendor replied. He looked a little crestfallen that I hadn’t immediately jumped on anything.

  I considered that for a moment, then unequipped the Alpha Rod and swapped it back for the Spear of Nine Spheres. “Like this weapon?”

  The man was visibly startled at the sight of the Spear. His eyes widened as he looked over the battered weapon. The Spear of Nine Spheres wasn’t terribly impressive - but it obviously meant something to him.

  “Aesari design...” he murmured. “Do you know how much this is worth?”

  “No?” I’d floated the Spear at the Weapon Shop just to see how much they’d have paid for it, and it had been no more than 10 silver rubles.

  “An artifact like this is worth a fortune,” he whispered back. “To the right buyer. Say… two thousand olbia?”

  Two thousand gold was enough to buy us better equipment. A lot of it. I thought back to the message I’d received this morning about Baldr somehow taking over Ilia, and swallowed. Karalti’s saddle had maxed us out. We had 3 copper litz left to our names. But even as I thought about it, the Mark of Matir twitched.

  “It’s not for sale,” I replied weakly. “But I’ll remember your offer. Sorry to say, I can’t afford anything right now-”

  “Then it is just as well that someone is interested in sponsoring your quest to bring down the Slayer of Taltos, isn’t it?”

  A woman I hadn’t heard – or seen - came up beside me, light and graceful on her feet. She was rail-thin, dressed head to toe in red. Red slippers and gloves, red breeches, a form-fitting doeskin tunic cut to her razor curves, and a red capelet and hood that was drawn up around her face. The reds varied between a dark burgundy and a brilliant scarlet. She was very small-breasted, practically flat. Her arms were slender enough that I could have put my hand all the way around her bicep, but her legs were corded with hard muscle. She showed no skin at all, including her face. She wore a full-face white ceramic mask with angelically beautiful, realistically sculpted features. The mask crawled with small red sparks, like embers.

  Uh-oh. One of the unspoken rules of RPGs was that anyone who dressed in only one color was bad news. “And you are...?”

  “A potential patron.” Her voice was soft and raspy. “Call me Red.”

  Chapter 29

  The vendor looked between me and Red, blinking in obvious confusion.

  I flashed her a toothy smile. “I already have a patron, thanks. The Volod.”

  Red’s mask had human features: serene, feminine, and mysterious, the eye holes shrouded with black silk. There was no way to tell who – or what – she was. “I’m well aware. Would you walk with me?”

  “No,” I replied. “No offense, but I avoid keeping single company with obvious assassiny-types.”

  Red dipped her head in acknowledgement and reached behind her back. I tensed, but she came up with a pouch, not a blade. She flourished with her fingers like a magician, rolling the small clinking bag on her palm, and opened it to pull out... a rose. With a long stem, AND thorns.

  “Some say there’s no difference between mummers and assassins, but what is entertainment without the scent of danger?” she rasped, extending the flower to me. “For your lady.”

  “Uhh... thanks?” I took it gingerly, but didn’t sniff it. There were more drugs than cocaine that could get into your body through your nose.

  “You’re welcome,” Red replied. “Now, perhaps a minute of your time?”

  My monkey brain screamed two words in regards to this woman: ‘hell’ and ‘no’. But rational, non-monkey Hector could see the advantage of gathering intel. “Sure. But we stay here, inside the manor.”

  “Of course.” Red bowed gracefully to the accessories guy, and paced off ahead of me, lithe as a gymnast.

  “What do you want?” I asked her, once we were out of earshot of anyone in particular. “Because you’re clearly an uninvited guest, and half the Knights of the Red Star are here tonight. All I have to do is say the word, and your ass is grass.”

  “An interesting expression,” Red replied. “As for what I want? Hmm. Averting the genocide of the Meewfolk of Vlachia would be nice. I should also like to get revenge on my father for all he did to me, remove the usurper of Vlachia’s throne, and have my nails done - in no particular order. I come to you about only two of those things.”

  Damn. This lady had big brass ones. “I’m guessing it’s not to talk about your daddy issues and get a manicure.”

  “No.”

  “Good, because I suck at na
il polish. I always get it all over my cuticles.”

  “I overheard the Volod discussing the eradication of the Meewfolk tonight, while your lovely Dakhari friend was freshening up in the ladies’ room,” Red remarked, pushing open the door that led into the garden. “He was working out the specifics with Lazrov Urgas, the Captain of the Vulkan Garrison. Our sovereign will be going ahead with that order if tonight’s charade does not provide him with a scapegoat. I don’t suppose you knew that.”

  “Well, I overheard him talking about how he wants to watch Suri peg me on the back of my dragon while he jacks off with a pair of salad tongs,” I replied. “See? I can make up straight-faced bullshit as well.”

  “Unlike your sexual fantasies, what I just told you will soon come to pass.” Red almost sounded amused. “I would urge you to carefully eavesdrop tonight and make up your own mind.”

  I frowned. “You sound pretty sure about this.”

  “I am. Non-humans are already being turned back at the border,” Red continued in her whisky-and-smoke voice. “Mercurions have started to vanish from the Tanners' District. Rumor is they’re being interrogated and killed. The Foreign Quarter – Cat Alley - is next. I want you to consider if what will soon happen there is worth having on your conscience.”

  “And what’s the alternative?”

  “Accept a down payment, enough to buy one of the baubles you were lusting for. Leave tonight, retire to a fine inn with your friend and your dragon, sleep easily until morning, and live happily in the knowledge that you chose the lesser evil.”

  “And wake up to a bloody social purge and riots in the streets?” I snorted, looking up at the eaves of the manor roof. Karalti might have been up there, her scales bending the starlight and rendering her invisible in the shadows. “How about ‘no’?”

  “Are you sure? Because-”

  “Apparently ‘no’ wasn’t strong enough. So let’s try ‘go fuck yourself’.” I jerked to a stop, ready to call my spear to hand. The garden was less crowded than it had been earlier. Strangers were glancing at us, probably mistaking our hushed, tense conversation for a lover’s spat. “There’s no such thing as the ‘lesser evil’ when you’re talking about treason and social unrest, and Suri is going to tell you the exact same thing. I don’t know who you are, but the only thing that’s going to stop this insanity is Kanzo’s head.”

  Red flinched slightly at the name. It had surprised her?

  “As you say,” she replied stiffly, hopping onto a marble bench. “Then you had best attend the auction, hadn’t you?”

  “After I hand your ass over to the Volod.” I hadn’t finished speaking before I lunged forward, my spear appearing in my hands.

  Red jumped backwards into the air - springing up ten feet or more - and landed silently in the branches of the oak in the center of the courtyard. She jumped easily, almost lazily, and tilted her head before vanishing completely. There was a rustle of leaves... then nothing.

  “Shit!” I swore loudly, turning heads. Two guards had advanced a couple of steps from their posts, looking around in surprise. The few drunken guests who had noticed the argument were doing that dumb cow stare that groups of people did when they were confused. I looked around, but whatever Red had used to vanish masked her completely. No sound, no smell, no trace of her presence. She had quite possibly teleported.

  “You motherfucking, goat-sucking...!” I slung my spear back over my shoulder and stormed off back into the main building, picking up into a jog. I nearly slammed into a waiter carrying a tray of empties. The sound of breaking crystal followed me as I stormed forward into the glittering cocktail throng, searching desperately for Kirov, Andrik, or Suri.

  “Suri - where the hell are you?” I messaged her.

  I got my answer as I squeezed between an irate dowager and her pimply teenage boy-toy. The doors to the main auction hall were open, though they were still roped off. Beyond the ropes were round tables with place settings. Standing right in front of the ropes, about to be admitted in, were Andrik and Suri. As I pushed toward them, they and a few other select guests went inside. Behind me, a bell tinkled, silencing the room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” the doorman called. “Please form a line at the door and prepare to take your seats! Your invitation contains your seat number, which we will collect at the door...”

  I spotted Kirov hanging back, talking with his buddy Ur Pavel, the thin, buggy-eyed knight from the morgue. Their heads jerked up as I balled up on them.

  “Guys, there’s a problem,” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “I think something’s about to go down at the auction.”

  “What? Why?” The smile wiped from Kirov’s face. Same with Pavel.

  “Some woman just tried to buy me off and get me to leave,” I said. “She called herself ‘Red’.”

  “Who does she claim to represent?” Pavel asked.

  “She didn’t tell me. But she had a serious assassin or spy vibe.” I gestured urgently to the guests pouring into the auction hall. “This is nuts. We have to call this off.”

  Kirov shook his head stubbornly. “No, we cannot. The Volod hoped to lure out the Slayer’s comrades, and that is what is happening.”

  I leaned toward him. “Kirov, listen to me. They’re going to try to kill Andrik.”

  The Knight’s dark eyes glinted with concern. “Of course they are. We have mages and snipers on the rooftops, guards on the grounds, and every tenth guest here is either a knight of my order, or one of our soldiers. His Majesty has armor on under his clothing, and his cloak offers good protection against magic, poison, and other effects. Believe me, rytier... We were expecting this.”

  “There’re tables everywhere,” I fretted. “And glass. Even if one in every ten is a soldier, that still means ninety percent of people in that room are civilians.”

  “Fear not. We are the King’s swords and shields,” Pavel said. He clapped me on the back. “Now go. You and the Voivode are at a table near the door. We have not seated all the important guests together.”

  Nearly everyone was inside now, and Suri had still not replied to my P.M. I sighed, resisted the urge to spit in annoyed disgust, and tromped in after them. I’d played enough games to know a set-up when I saw one.

  ***

  The auction hall was the old ballroom of the manor, set out with rows of round wooden tables. Tiered plates tottered with little open-faced sandwiches, baklava, Turkish delight, macarons and cream puffs. I was at the Voivode’s table. I sat to his left, and the Captain of the Vulkan Keep garrison sat to his right.

  “Why did they put us all the way back here?” The Voivode muttered, arms folded against his chest. “This is a disgrace.”

  “For your safety, my lord,” the captain replied for the hundredth time. He also had his arms crossed, but unlike the noble couple, he was watching the room like a hawk.

  “It means you’re closer to the door in the event of an emergency. The King and His High Forginess are near exits, too,” I added. I’d made a sweep of the crowd myself, but was now watching Suri at the back of the room. She was seated next to Andrik at a table near another entry to the ballroom. Thanks to the Trial of Marantha, I could see everything going on there. Their expressions, where Andrik was putting his hands - or almost putting his hands - and I could even read their lips.

  “It remains a serious breach of protocol. You do not seat your vassals at the back of the room,” the Voivode said, with a sniff.

  I chewed morosely on a pistachio macaron. It was good, a cookie with the perfect combination of chewy, crunchy, and creamy. I sighed with relief when the Auctioneer emerged from behind a curtain, and the room – and the Voivode – fell silent.

  “Holgyem et Arain. Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for attending Kobayaz Estate tonight,” he said, in a high, reedy voice. He was sharply dressed but round as a plum. “I am your host, Ephraim Terer, and I shall explain how tonight’s event will proceed…”

  He began reading out the rules for the aucti
on - signs only, no shouting, all proceeds go to the widows and orphans left behind by the murders. While no one was looking, I shoveled the entire plate of macarons into my Inventory, gaining [Assorted Macarons x 10]. They’d be perfect for mopey binge-eating later in the night.

  “And now, High Forgemaster Agoston Toth would like to say a few words.” The Auctioneer stepped aside as Toth took his place in front of the podium.

  “Holgyem et Arain. I would like to thank you all for your interest and generosity toward us, the Church of Khors the Maker, and the faithful and good people of Vlachia,” he rumbled, raising his voice to be heard over the room. The burly lion of a priest was in the same ceremonial robes he’d been wearing when we’d met him at the church. “We have lost a number of our finest brethren to the Slayer of Taltos - doctors, smiths, teachers, the founder of our largest orphanage, and so tonight the Volod himself, His Majesty Andrik Corvinus the Third, has put forth some of his family treasures to raise funds for those left behind...”

  I tuned him out, looking around the hall for anything suspicious. If Suri and I were right and the priests had been murdered according to the virtues of their church, then what was left? We’d had Wisdom, Honor, Hospitality and Courage so far... that left Self-Reliance, Discipline, and Honesty. Of the two, Self-Reliance seemed like the more difficult one to stage. And Toth - or the Volod himself - were the only feasible targets. I watched Toth intently, and jumped when my HUD beeped.

  “Sorry I didn’t reply before,” Suri messaged. “Andrik has been taking up all of my time.”

  “I noticed.” I sent it off, and immediately regretted how curt I sounded. “Listen, something’s up. Get ready to drag him out of here by his goatee. If he dies, we fail our quest and this country will go downhill, fast.”

  Toth finished his speech with a prayer, holding up a hammer and using it to bless the auction table and the assembled people. I definitely tuned that part out, and tried one of the sandwiches. Chicken and asparagus, cream cheese, soft rye bread... not bad. I arched an eyebrow when Toth kissed the hammer and lay it down on the auction table.