“The hell with that! You’re not making a clan head out of me,” smirked Stacey. “I’m with you. Do you really thing that you and Plinto will get all the goodies? Like hell!”
“Hey, that’s my catchphrase…”
“Darling Danny, you better get used to it — from now on we are one in sickness and in health. So, I won’t be letting you go on your own, don’t even count on it. Make Fleita the head.”
“Who?” I almost started from surprise.
“Fleita the Decembrist, aka Julia DeCembreaux. I’ll draft the contract, don’t worry,” Stacey paused, gauging my reaction and then laughed: “I found out everything there is to find out about that girl. Don’t worry. She’s studying to be an economist, has a boyfriend — that is, had a boyfriend — now she’s free and spends all her time in Barliona getting used to her new race. It’s looking like the Corporation has decided to turn her into a new object of ‘reverence’ by including her in a bunch of new scenarios. She’s not afraid of responsibility despite her capricious attitude and she’s intelligent and knows how to behave responsibly. She’ll be a perfect clan head, believe me. Do you want me to speak to her myself?”
“Uh…Erm…” I replied with eloquent astonishment, staring at Stacey’s hazel eyes. In the twilight they were so dark that I couldn’t even see their whites. Two deep, dark wells, capable of consuming the mind of anyone who crossed her path — in the given instance, me.
“It’s agreed then,” Stacey smiled, adding a twinkle to her dark eyes. “Tomorrow I’ll go see Geranika and ask to join his team. He let Plinto in, after all.”
“Plinto lost all of his Reputation,” I tried to object, but Stacey was unshakable.
“Darling, I remember the Dark Forest. I remember what you did and what you got as a reward when it was all over. I find it hard to believe that the Corporation will really strip you of everything you’ve attained. And I want to be among those who’ll gain the bonuses, so I’m with you. Are there any questions? Objections? No? Very good. Come over here…”
The technicians came early in the morning. Corporate professionalism kept them from saying out loud what was evident enough on their faces and no doubt ‘bunch of clumsy apes’ was among the kinder of their thoughts. My capsule was moved to the wall. The networking cables were tucked neatly away into said wall and we signed another heap of documentation about our liabilities with the equipment. After we’d gotten rid of our glum guests but before going to see Geranika, I opened my mail.
From: Cafe Alventa Administration
To: Daniel Mahan
Daniel, attached please find the results from one of your tournament members. Payment has been made. We look forward to working with you in the future.
Kind regards,
Cafe Alventa
“Come here, Stacey,” I smiled, seeing the dossier on a Marina Corvus, aged 31. I had made a slight mistake — Marina wasn’t overweight. To the opposite, she was attractive with pretty blue eyes, a turned-up nose and spiraling chestnut hair. The only problem was that this woman bore no resemblance whatsoever to the Marina I had encountered at the seminar.
“This is the Marina who is now a little heap of ash,” I began to explain the files I’d received to Stacey. “And look, the actual video of the seminar has been deleted. It doesn’t exist! Even though this data is kept for three years, someone with access to serious resources managed to delete it. HOWEVER! As we both know, Cat was at the same retraining session as me. She had a video of her own which is…Voila! Staceykins, I present to you the Marina that framed me and sent me to prison. Now, tell me, darling, do you still think I’m crazy?”
“What the…” Stacey whispered in shock, shut her eyes and cursed. I was right like never before — on the video, sitting beside me and dutifully writing down the citation for yet another law was none other than Roxanne Vecchi.
“We need to go see Hellfire,” Stacey growled/whispered through her teeth a minute later. “Can you set it up?”
“Let’s try it,” I nodded and dialed the Corporate number. “Put me in touch with Alex Herman…”
“What can I say…” Alex rubbed his chin, looking sadly at the wall. It took me ten minutes to get through a hundred managers and assistant vice presidents to Alex and he, hearing my conclusions, decided to come visit us at home right away. Looking at the documents that I had by now received from all five of my mercenaries, Alex’s face went grim. “Whenever it seems that everything is clear and unambiguous, Mahan rides in and turns everything upside down. Where’d you pick up this talent — or is it something you have to be born with?”
Without waiting for her answer, Alex went on:
“First of all — not a word about your suspicions to anyone. That’s right Mahan — suspicions! Until you have proof of the opposite, Roxanne is innocent. We’ll talk to Alexander. We’ll take the documents and…Damn! Why do you need to see Donotpunnik?”
“To make sure that…” I began, but Alex cut me off.
“Again, this case is now in our jurisdiction. Meeting Donotpunnik or Hellfire might hurt the investigation. If you’re right and Mari…Roxanne I mean, is really alive, then seeing Donotpunnik can only hurt. She’s sure to be following anything around these people. I can’t let you do that…”
“Clutzer,” unexpectedly even to myself, I called Alex by his Barliona name, causing him to start as if he’d seen — or in this case heard — a ghost, “I need to talk to Donotpunnik. I have no idea why. But I need to. Set it up…please.”
Once again a silence descended on our apartment; only now, three people were involved. And two of them were staring at me and thinking about something feverishly. Finally Alex sighed deeply and slowly, as if under great stress, said:
“Tomorrow you can see Donotpunnik. Daniel…You know, I spent a long time studying the code that went into your Shamanic premonition. And, well…It didn’t exist. Your premonition is simply your own personal premonition. A sixth sense. A third eye. Call it what you want. I’ll arrange the meeting but I insist that you don’t mention Roxanne to anyone. This is very important.”
Attention everyone! Everyone! EVERYONE!
The first Kalragon inter-clan tournament begins today!
Face the best players of Barliona! In addition to the three empires (that’s right, you heard correctly — three!), representatives of all of Barliona’s continents will take part in the tournament as invited guests.
Become the best among the best!
The notification announcing the launch of the event filled the space before my eyes and refused to be swiped aside. I had to read it in its entirety. As soon as the system made sure that I had fully read it, the notification dissolved like fog. I looked around and couldn’t help but smirk — the library had been fully restored. There was no sign that I had recently destroyed it by creating the Karmadont Chess Set.
“Oh! Has the doom of all life decided to wake up from his nap?” Geranika’s wry voice sounded beside me. “Took you a good while to come to.”
“I see the library’s already been repaired,” I ignored Geranika’s barb, examining the nearest shelves. “Was it difficult?”
“The Spirit of Barliona has gifted you three teleportations,” Geranika went on. This conversation was beginning to remind me of an exchange between two deaf people — everyone’s doing the talking but no one’s listening. “You will be sent to Altameda immediately, from there to Pryke and then back. You know, Mahan, I’m curious what you did to attract such attention. Did you sell your soul?”
“Are you asking why all the empires have it in for me?” I decided to play his game, but to my surprise Geranika replied:
“Not all of them. Only Kartoss and Malabar. Shadow couldn’t give a damn what threat you pose to the pillars of this world.”
I looked at Geranika with puzzlement, causing him to burst out in laughter:
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? If you get into the Tomb, you’ll discover a lot of unnecessary information. Info
rmation that the Emperor and the Dark Lord would prefer to keep secret. That’s why every Free Citizen has been given the single quest of stopping you from reaching that secret. They’re using them like a flock of sheep that mills in front of the gates and doesn’t let anyone into the village. Although, they’re using them about the only way you can use Free Citizens. Brainless sheep.”
“Those sheep stole your scepter,” I reminded Geranika of one of the episodes of in our mutual past. It’s never pleasant when an NPC insults players.
“And forced me to make concessions,” he agreed without batting an eyelid. “You can add that the same sheep made me mortal by piercing me with the horn of the unicorn. But that’s in the past. You and I inhabit the present, in which you pose a mortal threat to the entire world order. Were it up to me, I’d happily help you, but…Well, it’s not allowed. The Emperor and the Dark Lord have made a deal with Barliona itself. And Barliona accepted their terms.”
“Why?” I asked baffled. “What’ll happen if I get into the Tomb?”
“Let’s put it this way — there won’t be much good from it,” a hoarse voice said from behind me. I turned around. A man and an orc. An old man and an…old green orc. Wrapped in torn, tattered and soiled gray capes — the kind that the homeless sometimes resort to — they looked utterly out of place even in the Spartan decor of Geranika’s palace. I found myself looking at two pairs of white eyes that had faded with time, causing me to feel a bit awkward and forcing me to read the properties of the new arrivals. It’s nice to know who I’m dealing with…
Darius (Level 1000 Human).
Critchet (Level 1000 Orc).
I shook my head in bafflement, trying to dispel my confusion. This simply couldn’t be! Had Barliona broken down? I checked Geranika’s properties just in case.
Geranika (Level 1000 Human). Lord of Shadow. Shadow Harbinger. Narlak City Guardian.
No, everything seemed okay. Who the hell are these two then? There’s a dozen or two creatures in all of Barliona who are at Level 1000. Emperors, gods and their analogues, such as the Supreme Spirits and, erm, key NPCs like Renox. And that was all! There’s not supposed to be any Dariuses or Critchets on this list!
“The Tomb is a secondary matter,” Darius went on, arranging himself in a chair with a creak. The NPC’s hands trembled noticeably as he placed his walking stick aside. I looked over at the orc and frowned — only now did I notice that he too was on his last legs. They trembled and his face periodically twisted in a grimace — the orc was suffering but he remained standing. He was supporting himself with his crutch, but he stood as if wishing to demonstrate that he had strength enough — that he was stronger than the human. Damn! These old fogeys are about to fall apart to pieces without even telling me anything interesting. On a whim, I grabbed a chair and taking several steps offered it to the orc. He sat down in it with an evident sigh of relief and gave me a grateful look. It took but a moment but it was enough to understand that I had done a great favor for him.
“Let me introduce you, Mahan,” Geranika stepped between the old men. “The old tired orc is Critchet. The old tired human is Darius. Be sure to love and honor them. They have several questions for you.”
The old men wanted to know the story of Lait that I had learned in the cave. Especially as it concerned the Alabaster Throne. Surprisingly, the two NPCs began inquiring after the method of blocking the Shadows in the presence of the Lord of Shadow himself. Deciding that this was probably just another puzzle that the devs had cooked up for players who’d set upon the path of Shadow, I related everything I managed to learn in the cave without omitting a single detail.
“In that case, we must assume that the desert appeared because Karmadont took the crystal,” Darius summarized enigmatically and, seeing the puzzlement on my face, explained: “Initially the Creator himself blocked the effect of the Throne. After that the crystal. Once Karmadont removed the Ergreis, it was only the power granted to Lait that blocked the Throne’s effects from afflicting Barliona. And yet that wasn’t enough and as a result an enormous lifeless desert formed around the cave where you killed the phantoms. Everything is dead in it.”
“This may be a dumb question, but who are you guys anyway?” I decided to start figuring things out. “Why are you interested in the Throne? And why don’t you ask its owner about it? I mean, he’s standing right here, grinning like an idiot. I bet he knows more than me about what’s going on.”
“Heh, who we are, what we are, how we are…” the orc muttered to himself. “We already told you. We’re old, tired creatures who have their own particular goals. As for you — it’s time for you to go to Altameda. You’re due for an opening ceremony of a tournament!”
The orc flourished his hand and I suddenly found myself in midair. Or rather, the floor receded from me in a whimsical way without me feeling any motion at all. If I shut my eyes, I’d imagine myself still standing on it. But if I open them…Oh the horror. The old man mimicked his partner and a brilliant, emerald portal appeared right before me. What the hell is this then?! That’s not supposed to happen in Barliona — portals are either blue, white or (in really extreme and typically sinister situations) red! But certainly never green!
The orc flourished his hand again and the invisible plane that I had been standing on vanished. I went flying into the portal like an Olympic diver: graceful, without a splash and with a fancy pirouette in mid-flight. I’d give myself a 9.9 for that one without a second thought.
“Master! They’re down again!” Viltrius squeaked plaintively, coddling a catatonic hobgoblin in his arms. The portal spit me out right in Altameda’s main hall, wiping out the hobgoblins in the process. Neither Geranika nor this geriatric couple had any respect or for that matter concern for my castle’s teleportation defense.
“Viltrius you have one day to come up with an effective method of blocking unwanted guests from teleporting into our castle,” I seethed at the cringing majordomo. “If you have to buy something more powerful than hobgoblins, then buy it. If you have to level up the hobgoblins, level them up. If you need to make a deal with the Guardian, then make it! I’m tired of whoever waltzing into my castle whenever they feel like it. Or do I need to find another majordomo who’ll be able to solve this problem?”
Despite his generally green tint, Viltrius turned as white as chalk, squealed that he would resolve the problem this very instant and then vanished. I collapsed in my rocking throne and cursed for good measure. I don’t know what came over me. Going off on an NPC who served me truly and sincerely was stupid and wrong, but the emotions roiling within me demanded some release. I’m not made of stone finally! I have an utter mess on my hands back in reality, while here in Barliona the devs have come up with an entirely different mess in which I’m enemy number one. On top of it all, Stacey is pregnant and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do…Argh!
“Mahan, it’s such a pleasure to encounter you in the castle!” Spiteful Gnum barreled into the main hall. “I’m finished! When are we going to test it?”
“You’re finished with what?” I didn’t understand what was going on at first, still in my misanthropic rut.
“What do you mean?” Gnum looked at me with unvarnished surprise, shock even. “The airship. You came by to look at it yourself! I told you that I’d manage it in a week — well, it only took a few days after all! Check it out — I’m like your very own mad scientist! To get the power unit to work, you need forty chunks of azarcite which is as volatile as my wife during pregnancy. The chance of making it is one in five hundred, and it burns through resources so fast that your goblin started looking at me funny. And then bam! A few tweaks here and there, an adjustment to the alchemical processes and I got all the azarcite I needed! Enough sitting around! Let’s go test this baby!”
Reflexively, I opened the Harbinger’s ‘Blink’ input box and entered the workshop’s coordinates. Who’d imagine actually walking there…Yet Barliona had a surprise for me — the Blink didn’t happen.
>
Due to the ‘Burden of the Creator’ scenario, you are unable to use your Blink ability.
“Come on, Mahan! What’re you just sitting there for?” Gnum refused to leave me alone, literally pulling me out of my chair. “You’re not allowed to teleport, stop molesting the teleportation system. No means no! It’s you and your feet, mon ami , so up and at ‘em!”
As we emerged into an open area, I turned into my Dragon Form and flapped my wings several times. Surprise number two — I can’t fly either. Unwilling to give up, I asked Gnum to summon a griffin, clambered onto its back and encountered surprise number three — the bird squeaked, thrashed its wings but couldn’t get off the ground even a centimeter.
“Are you done?” To my surprise, Gnum waited out my experiments stoically. “Didn’t you read? You’re enemy number one and all that. You’re not allowed to fly.”
Then Gnum smiled maniacally and added:
“At least, not the way everyone else flies.”
I had nothing left to do but follow the gnome, since he didn’t bother explaining the thought behind his grin. With a mere ‘you’ll see for yourself,’ Gnum shuffled ahead of me to the workshop, managing to stop on his way next to empty niches tisk his tongue and shake his head.
“I can see there’s work upon work here,” Gnum said, stopping beside yet another empty nave, and then turned to me and asked: “When are you going to busy yourself with the castle? Level 26 was impressive last year! Phoenix, as I hear it, is already almost at Level 30! We should bomb them! I already came up with bombs! I don’t have a lot at the moment, but we all know that the recipe is the most important bit!”
“Gnum, sometimes I’m afraid to imagine what goes on in your mind,” I replied honestly. “A hundred interconnected sentences that…”
“That arrange themselves into perfect fractal — if…if you ignore all the everyday dross!” the gnome replied in a huff. “I really have to explain everything to you…No, but okay, that’ll come later. There’s no time right now. Come on. I’m gonna show you my little bird! Don’t you need a way to move around Barliona?”
Clans War (The Way of the Shaman: Book #7) LitRPG Series Page 26
