The Land: Swarm: A LitRPG Saga (Chaos Seeds Book 5)

by Aleron Kong

  “Well… your insulting offer feels like an attack,” Richter covered lamely. Fucking idioms. “I do not believe for a moment that, if you were tasked to create a Knowledge Table while you were still under contract in Yves, you would personally be pocketing nearly three hundred gold.” Richter examined Bea’s face, and, sure enough, he saw just the slightest flicker of doubt. Bartle wouldn’t make eye contact, and Randolphus nodded to show that his lord was right. He turned back to Bea. The man looked genuinely scared, so Richer decided it was time for a little good cop bad cop, “Now I’m not going to take the fact that you tried to cheat me personally, despite the fact that I pay you a good wage. Nothing wrong with a man getting his beak wet, right?” As soon as he said it, Richter almost rolled his eyes in irritation. IDIOMS! He pressed on, though, not wanting to lose momentum.

  “Alma, on the other hand, seems to be getting all riled up!” The dragonling’s wings flared. A slight hiss came from her mouth, and she took a threatening step forward. Bea leaned as far back in his seat as he could. He looked at Bartle for help, but the other Scholar wisely decided not to try and intercede with whatever the lord of the village planned to do. As far as Bartle was concerned, if his cocky friend had foolishly decided to fleece the sword-carrying, magic-wielding Master of a Place of Power, then he could deal with the consequences. Blood drained from Bea’s face when Alma’s body started glowing yellow.

  *Aren’t you laying it on a bit thick, love? You’re not actually going to fire a lightning bolt, are you?* Richter kept glaring at Bea while he silently communicated with Alma.

  *Haha. How can you even ask? This is only a bit of motivation. He will offer to build it for free soon! This sweaty man must be a fool to try and cheat you, master!* She really was a loyal and loving creature; he thought fondly. Even though she said she was bluffing, though, her last comment was also just a touch savage. His familiar really didn’t like the fact that Bea had tried to cheat him. Richter was actually concerned that if the Scholar said the wrong thing, she might zap him. Lucky for all concerned, Randolphus diffused the situation.

  “I believe this is all a misunderstanding, Lord Richter,” the chamberlain said. “The price to build such a table would indeed cost several hundred gold if it were commissioned in Yves. You are also right, however, that the price would normally involve a guild charging a premium for the construction and also charging for the materials. I am sure that Scholar Bea was going to inform you that the actual cost to you, my lord, would be much lower.” He looked pointedly at the pale Scholar, “Is that not right?”

  Bea nodded so quickly he looked like a bobble head. The whole time Randolphus had spoken, he had not taken his eyes off of Alma. Anyone that heard this story might find it strange that a fully grown man would be afraid of something the size of a cat. That would only be because that person had never been hissed at by a dragon cat that could shoot lightning, though. Randolphus continued.

  “Normally, whichever Scholar that would be involved in making such an item would be given a small stipend in addition to their salary for their work. Constructing a knowledge tablet requires some skill in crafting as well, Lord Richter.”

  “Is that right?” Richter asked stroking Alma’s back. He locked eyes with Bea, “How much of a stipend do you think would be fair?”

  “Ahhhh, normally a Scholar would receive seven gold when paid for a larger project like this, but I would be happy to do it for six gold and a two silvers. To show respect for your lordship.”

  Richter adopted a speculative look, continuing to keep his hand on Alma. To the Scholar it might appear that the only thing holding the dragonling back was Richter’s good will. After a few moments, he nodded. It was a small extra cost to pay in light of the potential functionality of having a table that doubled as an interface. Not that he was fooled for a second by the ‘respect’ he was being shown. His Trade skill was at level fifteen which entitled him to 7.5% discount whenever he was buying something. Bea had no more choice about reducing the price than a rock had a choice to fall when dropped. The laws of The Land forced the man to offer that discount. As Richter did the math, though, he realized that fear of Alma might have dropped the price a bit lower, though.

  “I accept your offer,” Richter said magnanimously. Alma stopped her aggressive posturing and the light surrounding her went out. She jumped up onto her master’s shoulders. Bea let out a sigh of relief. Richter looked at Bartle, “Do you have anything to add?”

  “No, my lord. I am quite happy to be here!” The Scholar was laying it on a bit thick, but Richter didn’t mind. “I will help however I can, Lord Richter, though I will not be much help in the formation of this table. I do not have the Knowledge Tablet talent.”

  “What can you do?” Richter asked.

  “I have obtained the second level of Association, allowing me to organize and understand large amounts of data. I have been helping your chamberlain organize his notes.”

  “Quite well, I would add, my lord,” Randolphus interjected.

  Bartle nodded his head in appreciation at the commendation, “I also possess the talents of Perfect Scribing and Confidential. Finally, I have raised my Copying Talent to level two.”

  Richter rechecked the man’s level. It was only thirteen. “How have you been able to purchase so many talents without leveling higher?” he asked. If a normal human only received ten talent points per character level and a max of five points for having a high affinity in an associated skill, at most Bartle should have gotten forty-five TPs. Unless the Scholar talents were much cheaper than his Enchanter talents, Bartle should not have been able to purchase as many as he had.

  “Ahhhh… You do have a Profession, do you not, my lord?” Bartle asked. Bea was deciding to be quiet for the moment.

  “I do,” Richter replied. “I think that you’re about to explain something that you think should be common knowledge. Let me say that I will never object to you asking questions or offering information that you think I should know. So speak freely.”

  Bartle nodded, and his face relaxed somewhat. Richter felt better about that. He didn’t want his negative experience with Bea to give the Scholars the wrong impression of him in general. “Very well, my lord. Are you aware that Professions can spawn quests that give talent points as a reward?”

  When Richter nodded, the Scholar continued, “One of the benefits of being raised in a guild is that you are given many tasks to complete. Both Bea and I have scribed thousands of documents. When we successfully completed our trials, we were offered strings of quests that we had already completed. As such we received a large amount of talent points all at once. Every Scholar’s guild requires their Professionals to purchase the Confidential talent. Our guild, The White Quill, also required us to purchase the Perfect Scribing talent. After that, the decision of how to allocate our TPs was left to us.”

  Richter nodded, things were becoming much clearer. He looked at Bea and said, “So you have the Still Image and Knowledge Tablet talents?” If that was all the Scholar brought to the table then he was a bit of a one trick pony.

  “I possess the talents: Perfect Scribing II, Copying, and Confidential, as well, my lord.”

  “Hmmm,” Richter said speculatively. There were other things to discuss, but first, there was a formality to dispense with.

  “Neither of you have sworn fealty to me, but from what I understand, you have no power to share any confidential information once you have given your word, is that right?”

  The Scholars both answered, ‘Yes.’ Richter continued, “I still have to assume that you’re telling the truth about having purchased that talent, though, don’t I?”

  Randolphus spoke up, “Every guild Scholar in Yves must obtain the Confidential Talent first, my lord. There have been stories about fake Scholars, but I read the Writ of Authenticity that both brought from their guild. I will also say that the Guild of the White Quill is one of the most respected organizations in Yves.”

  “How do you know this
‘writ’ they brought was real?” Richter asked.

  “A writ is not a simple document, my lord. It is a magical note that cannot be altered. The king issues such writs to licensed guilds which officially recognizes their charter in Yves. The same magic is given to the nobles recognizing the validity of their land claims. Any writ which a guild issues is bound by the same magic. There is no way to fake the magical signature that is specific to each writ. There is also no way to create a magical writ if the creator knows, or even seriously suspects, that what they are vouching as true is, in fact, a falsehood. The signature at the bottom of their writs was that of the Guild of the White Quill. Not all guilds that have been given writs in the recent past are respectable, my lord, but the Guild of the White Quill has existed for centuries and has an impeccable name. If the guild states that these two have the Confidential Talent, it can be trusted.”

  Richter listened carefully. He absolutely trusted and respected what Randolphus was saying, but he didn’t believe that any system had ever been created that couldn’t be exploited or circumvented. What Randolphus was describing sounded relatively airtight. Still, better to be safe than sorry, “I am going to have you two swear to something in a moment. Just so that I am clear, however, after we finish speaking today, you will both go with Randolphus to find Sumiko. She will test you both to ensure the authenticity of this writ and that you both have the Confidential Talent. If you are lying about either one of these things, you will be killed before the sun rises.” Richter’s face was a cold and unyielding as stone.

  Both of the Scholars looked at him in shock. Randolphus, hesitantly spoke up, “Uhh, my lord, perhaps-”

  Richter held up a hand sharply, and the chamberlain stopped speaking. He stood up and looked at both Scholars, though his gaze settled on Bea, “Maybe you thought there was no harm in trying to squeeze gold out of me. Maybe you would have lowered the price later. Maybe you’re just a dick. I don’t care. The people of this village are my responsibility, and we have real enemies that have already claimed lives. I will not have a potential threat in our midst. I will not allow another infiltrator to live! If you lie to me, I will take your head myself.” He clipped his final words, “Do not tempt my anger. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Lord Richter,” Bea said with fear in his voice. All previous arrogance was gone. Richter looked at Bartle who nodded his head and said solemnly, “Yes, Lord Richter.”

  The lord of the Mist Village stood over the Scholars for another few seconds; then he sat down. “Repeat after me…”

  Richter had them promise to never divulge any information about the village or what happened within it to anyone outside of his domain. He further instructed them to never discuss with any other villagers what they were made privy to by himself and Randolphus. The Scholars were also never to keep secrets from Richter or Randolphus. He ordered them to do their best to provide any information that he might find useful or interesting. Lastly, they were to do their best to adhere to the spirit of these oaths as long as they did not betray the letter of them. He didn’t need an I-robot situation. The Scholars agreed to each point. They ended the agreement by saying ‘We so swear.’ A prompt appeared in Richter’s vision.

  Scholar Bartle and Scholar Bea have agreed to your terms and are bound to them by their Talent: Confidential.

  Richter blinked it away. He felt better now and almost changed his mind about them seeing Sumiko, but he decided to stay the course and be thorough. “Well, that’s all behind us. I agree to your terms regarding the formation of the Knowledge Table, Scholar Bea. What I need to know is, how else can you help me? With my journeyman rank in Enchanting, I can make magic books and skill books. What do you know about that?”

  Bea straightened in his chair, perhaps seeing a way to redeem himself, “I have helped other magi and enchanters create spell books before. I can help greatly with that, my lord. I have mastered the penmanship of my journeyman rank which should help greatly.”

  “What does that mean? Penmanship?” Richter asked.

  It was Bartle who responded, “Let me show you, my lord.” He took out a piece of paper. He did not pick up the quill that was on the table. Instead, he removed a lacquered wooden box from a bag at his side. He opened it to reveal a wooden pen with a sharp metal tip.

  “Why did you change pens?” Richter asked.

  “Many people think that scribing is simply a matter of writing things down. In truth, it is much more complicated. The writing tool one uses can alter and affect the end result, just as the type of ink being used can come into play. For instance, the petals of the red ginja flower can create an ink that is ideal for writing scrolls for higher level fire magic. Different types of paper and even the leather used to bind books makes a difference. What I will show you now is the importance of various writing styles.” He dipped it into the open inkwell on the table. “This is what is called scrawl.” He wrote a short phrase. It looked like any other information he had seen written in Yves.

  “‘Perfection is our virtue’,” Richter read.

  “Yes, my lord,” Bartle said. “This next writing style is called print.” Bartle wrote the same thing, but this time, each letter was perfectly formed. If Richter hadn’t seen it happen, he would have sworn that a typewriter had produced the string of letters. “I am sure you see the difference, Lord Richter. Writing in print, as opposed to scrawl, will give a bonus to a spell being successfully learned when a magic book is read. The same applies to skill books.”

  “That makes sense,” Richter said. “It’s easier to read.”

  “Many think the same, Lord Richter,” Bartle said. “You should know that the measured way that each letter is written comes not only from practice but is also a bonus granted upon achieving the rank of initiate in the Scribing skill. Print writing still must be practiced upon reaching level ten in scribing, but it is nearly impossible to perfect this type of penmanship without reaching the initiate rank. The next writing style bonus comes at the rank of apprentice and is called cursive.” Bartle wrote the same phrase again. It was not the flowing cursive script that Richter had learned in grade school. This had dots and swirls that he would not have added, and it even looked like extra characters were added. Side by side, cursive and print seemed like two different languages. Upon seeing it, however, Richter immediately saw the inherent pattern to those extra touches.

  Bea spoke up, “Do not feel troubled if you cannot read this script, Lord Richter. It takes special training or the scribing skill to read this.”

  Richter furrowed his brow at the Scholar, “What are you talking about? That clearly says ‘Perfection is our virtue and our weapon.’”

  Both Scholars looked startled. Even Randolphus raised his eyebrows in surprise. He took the pen from Bartle and wrote another phrase in cursive. Bartle complimented the chamberlain as he wrote. His writing did not have the effortless perfection of the Scholars’, but it was still well-written. “Can you read this, my lord?”

  “The seven moons mirror the magic. The sun guides the Light,” Richter read without difficulty.

  “You have had no other training in reading formal script, my lord?” Bartle asked. Richter shook his head but thought that he already had the answer to their mystery. His Gift of Tongues ability let him understand almost any sentient language. The ability was not confined to simple auditory understanding, however. He could also read most languages. In a dungeon, he had even come across words written in ancient high elvish, a language which had not even been spoken for nearly one hundred thousand years. If he could read that, a simple cursive style of writing in Common would be no difficulty. The real question was, did his ability extend to writing?

  Richter took the pen and dipped it in the ink again. He waited for a drop of black liquid to fall from the sharp end, then put pen to paper. He first wrote Randolphus’s phrase in scrawl, then in print. The characters did not have the perfection of the Scribes, but it was a close facsimile. More than that, three prompts appeared.
<
br />   Congratulations! You have learned the skill: Scribing. “True Glory consists of doing what deserves to be written, and writing what deserves to be read.” The foundation of any civilized society is the written word. You have now started the path towards enlightenment

  Congratulations! You have learned a new writing style: Scrawl.

  Congratulations! You have learned a new writing style: Print. +10% success in creating magical books and items reliant on writing when you use this writing style. +10% writing speed.

  “How did you-,” Bartle started to ask, but stopped when Richter continued to write the phrase in cursive. The chaos seed didn’t stop to question how he could write letters that he had never known, but instead just let his ability guide him. In no time at all, the phrase was written, and another prompt appeared.

  Congratulations! You have learned a new writing style: Cursive. +20% success in creating magical books and items reliant on writing when you use this writing style. +20% writing speed.

  “Are you toying with us?” Bea asked with indignation. “You have the Scribing skill!” Alma raised her head from Richter’s shoulders. The Scholar remembered that he was already on thin ice, and relaxed his posture, but still kept a defiant look on his face. Richter raised an arm and stroked his familiar soothingly before she could threaten the Scholar again.

  “No,” Richter said evenly, “but I have abilities and skills that you do not need to know about.” He looked at the page and considered his new skill. It was with a bit of a shock that he realized, except for simple notes, these were the first words he had written in the few months that he had been in The Land. That, as much as anything else, showed in stark relief just how different his life was now compared to when he had been a simple medical student.

  He looked at Bartle and asked, “What is the next writing style?” His Gift of Tongues ability apparently let him skip the weeks, or maybe even the years, of practice that mastering these writing styles normally required.