Awaken Online: Dominion

by Travis Bagwell

  The sooner he was able to get her producing, the faster they could start making money.

  “Well, maybe I still have some time to handle this,” Jason murmured to himself.

  * * *

  A few minutes later found Jason standing outside the dark keep, his gaze taking in the nearby market as he tugged at his hood to cover his face. It was difficult to tell the time of day with the way the billowing dark clouds hovered above his kingdom and the fact that none of his residents needed to sleep. However, the clock on his UI indicated that it was roughly midday in-game. The time compression inside the game world tended to throw the day/night cycle off between the game and the real world – which certainly didn’t help him when it came to remembering to log off. Maybe he should start setting an in-game alarm.

  He didn’t dwell on this issue for long as he observed the market. The dilapidated wooden stalls were arranged in a haphazard line through the market. That didn’t throw him off. What was disturbing was how many of the stalls stood empty and how few people walked through the streets. Those that were in the market tended to speak in hushed tones, do their business, and then flee the market like a demon was on their heels.

  The place looks like a ghost town, Jason thought to himself. He wasn’t able to appreciate the irony, worry gnawing at the edges of his mind.

  “There he is!” someone shouted from his side.

  He turned to find an undead woman staring at him from the ground beside the keep’s gate. Her legs appeared to have been crushed, ending at the thigh in an unhealed, mangled mess. Jason had to look away from the injury, noting that she was sitting on a small cart that she presumably used to get around.

  “There is the dark lord himself,” she spat.

  The injured woman wasn’t alone. Several dozen undead were camped out beside the keep in a ragged line that stretched down the wall. That must be how Jason had missed them when he initially exited the keep. He took in their haggard appearance, noting that each man and woman had suffered some sort of devastating injury. Many had lost limbs, and others had large gashes torn in their skin.

  What the hell is this? Jason thought in numb shock.

  “Are you going to answer for our injuries?” the woman demanded. “Because of you, disasters keep striking this city, and the Kin are the ones who suffer the brunt of the attacks. How will you answer for the dead?” The others echoed her angry cries, their shouts filling the air as each person tried to be heard over their brothers and sisters.

  The undead pressed forward, crawling and shuffling toward him until they were able to claw at Jason’s armor with pale flesh and ivory bone. He was struggling to form a response amid the tide of undead and was worried about using force to subdue them – which certainly wouldn’t look good. He could only imagine the field day the media would have if he cut down his own injured citizens.

  In a flash, a slender man was standing beside Jason, twirling his mustache with a single finger. His presence seemed to quell the crowd’s anger immediately – although, from their expressions, this caution was borne more from fear than respect. “Is this how you treat your Regent, or did you so quickly forget that this is also the man that gave you your immortality?” Jerry demanded, meeting their gaze with a hard stare.

  “What use is immortality when your body is broken?” the woman questioned angrily, not fully intimidated by the innkeeper.

  “Yeah,” another man shouted, his shoulders terminating only in unhealed stumps. His decaying features were contorted in a tortured expression. “I had my doubts before, but this must be hell. He raised us only to suffer. Oblivion would be a release.”

  An unusually somber expression flashed across Jerry’s face, his eyes lighting with a ruthless anger that Jason had never seen before. “If you would prefer death, we can certainly make that happen,” he growled. In a flash of movement that even Jason’s improved senses had troubled following, two blades embedded themselves in the stone wall beside the crippled man’s head – the metal cracking the stone and his bleached eyes widening in surprise.

  “Clear out of here,” Jerry ordered the crowd. “Or I will fulfill your wish and end your suffering right now.”

  The Kin muttered and spared hate-filled glances at Jerry and Jason, but they complied. They wheeled and dragged their broken bodies away from the keep and further into the depths of the Twilight Throne. Once the area had cleared, Jerry turned back to Jason, his expression softening slightly.

  “I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten,” Jason murmured, staring after the undead.

  “Thorn and his crew have been ramping up their attacks,” Jerry replied with a grimace. “They strike without warning or any clear pattern. Sometimes its construction crews, sometimes it’s a merchant carting home his goods. Most of the residents are too afraid to leave their homes.”

  The thief rubbed at his neck, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ve had the soldiers patrolling the streets, but this provides little protection. I haven’t made any progress in ferreting out Thorn and his compatriots either. It’s like hunting for a needle in a dilapidated unholy haystack.”

  Jason had known things weren’t going well from the reports Riley had provided, but this was far worse than he had imagined. Suddenly, everything he had endured didn’t seem like enough. He should be pushing himself even harder.

  “Why aren’t they able to heal their injuries?” Jason finally asked.

  Jerry adjusted his hat, side-eyeing Jason with his bleached-white eyes. “Some of the wounds that these Order agents inflict appear to have mana draining properties. This apparently includes draining a portion of the ambient dark mana that empowers our undead bodies,” he added gesturing at his own decaying flesh. “This can leave a victim crippled for long periods of time. Their bodies are unable to regenerate, and potions are having little effect.”

  “But it’s not permanent?” Jason pressed the innkeeper.

  He shrugged in reply. “We don’t know. It’s only been a few weeks. Only time will tell.”

  “Shit,” Jason murmured, his mind wheeling. The crippled man’s words still echoed in his mind. What would it be like to live forever without the use of his legs and arms? That would be a special kind of hell. If he let this continue, it wouldn’t be long before the city fell apart and his people turned on him.

  “Has Morgan looked into this?” Jason probed. If he could find some way to heal these injuries, then that would help with the city’s morale problem. It wouldn’t allow him to hunt down Thorn and kill him, but it would at least be a Band-Aid fix.

  “Our wrinkled librarian has been busy,” Jerry said with an irritated frown. “Or so she has told me every time I approach her. She seems to be taking your task to research this gate seriously.” Jason didn’t miss the frustration in the thief’s voice. Clearly, he thought Morgan was prioritizing the wrong project.

  “Well, that’s stupid,” Jason said flatly, anger coloring his voice – although, most of that frustration was directed at himself. This is what happened when he wasn’t able to focus on the city. “Round up the wounded and take them to her school immediately. Tell Morgan that I said to examine them and research if there is any way to repair their bodies. This is more important than some gate that we can’t deal with right now anyway.”

  Jerry nodded, glancing at Jason under the brim of his hat. “As you wish our dark lord and savior,” he replied with a hint of amusement. Then his expression sobered once again. “I don’t mean to rush you, but you need to finish these challenges quickly. Riley explained what you are doing,” he amended when he saw Jason’s questioning glance. “But things are worsening rapidly, and this city needs its leader.”

  “I will do my best,” Jason answered, meeting the innkeeper gaze.

  “I don’t doubt that you will,” Jerry replied evenly, the ghost of a smile on his pale lips. “I will try to keep everyone alive until you’re finished.” He cocked his head. “Or suitably undead, I suppose.” With that, he turned and walked off, quic
kly disappearing into the city.

  Jason stood there staring after him. Even more disconcerting than the injured undead and the nearly vacant market was the lack of humor in Jerry’s eyes. As long as he had known the innkeeper and despite the challenges that they had endured together, he had never lost his ability to jest. Hell, Jason had always imagined that Jerry would make a joke while looking death himself in the eye. That alone conveyed the severity of the problems that faced the city.

  As he recalled the look in Jerry’s eyes and the injured undead, Jason’s resolve hardened. He needed to move even faster – push himself past his limits. If he had been sprinting before, he needed to find a way to hitch a ride on a gods-damned rocket. He couldn’t afford to relax.

  Speaking of which, he needed to complete his task. The clock was ticking.

  Jason moved quickly through the dilapidated, empty stalls until he reached the center of the market. A lone human man stood hidden under the awning of a vacant stall, clutching at a large bag. His eyes widened as he saw Jason approach. Nearby stood a plain column. There used to be a line of players waiting to use the auction house terminal. However, now there wasn’t a soul in sight – apart from the auctioneer. The travelers must be similarly nervous to wander through the city or had abandoned it altogether.

  Without any ceremony, Jason ignored the man and slammed his palm down on the column. The menu for the player auction house appeared in the air before him, glowing with blue light.

  The first step was to check the prices for health potions on the market right now. A few searches indicated that the potions were selling in three different tiers: lesser health potions, moderate health potion, and greater health potions. Eliza had given him ingredient lists for all three – indicating the items that she needed to produce the potions. It looked like the lesser variants were selling for roughly 1 gold for a stack of five, with moderate and greater health potion stacks selling for 3 gold and 10 gold, respectively.

  The prices were relatively high, indicating that many players still hadn’t cultivated Alchemy. Jason suspected it was much more difficult to craft in this game compared to other MMOs – where the act of creating an item consisted of merely tapping a button on a menu. Having spent some time discussing Alchemy with Eliza, the process in AO was apparently a bit more complex.

  As a next step, Jason started searching for the potion ingredients and the supplies that Eliza had requested. Most of the ingredients were bid-only – meaning he couldn’t simply purchase them outright. This was a common way for a seller to obtain a market price for a product, letting player demand and bids set the price.

  The starting bids were quite high relative to the price of the potions. That must mean that the demand for ingredients was equally aggressive. Doing some quick math, Jason determined that he could still turn a profit by purchasing the ingredients and then selling the potions, but the margins would be razor thin. Perhaps it was too dangerous or time-consuming to collect the ingredients? Or maybe other people were buying up ingredients to help level up their Alchemy skill?

  Jason frowned, rubbing his chin in thought as he pulled up his inventory interface. He had about 2,000 gold now after using nearly 500 to help build the cave complex and provide a basic alchemical laboratory for Eliza. Most of this wealth had been accumulated from killing other players. They’d been sure to strip the players that had betrayed them after the battle in the Sea’s Edge. This would have seemed like a fortune when he had first started playing, but compared to the needs of an entire city, it was chump change.

  Perhaps it was enough to let him do something ambitious, though. He was in a different position than most players. He suspected he had much more money than almost anyone in the game right now – a testament to just how many people he had killed. This meant he could do something rather extreme to manipulate the market.

  Jason assumed that the price of the potions must be relative to or fluctuate with the price of the ingredients. Players wouldn’t buy the ingredients for more than the price of the potions themselves. Inversely, the price of the potions would probably go up if the demand for ingredients increased since it would become more difficult to craft them. It was clear that most of the potions on the market right now were being sold by only a handful of people – who were presumably purchasing some or all of their ingredients. He seriously doubted that many people had thought to build a farm at this stage.

  If Jason were to purchase all the ingredients and potions on the market – which was possible with his funds – he could theoretically drive up the price of health potions and their related ingredients. This would be expensive, but it meant that he would be able to sell his potions at a premium – likely recovering his initial expenditure. His cost per potion would also still be relatively low since Eliza was growing most of their ingredients.

  In short, Jason could possibly create a monopoly in health potions and their ingredients

  However, he would be making a big gamble. It was possible that a few industrious players might start gathering ingredients like crazy once the prices spiked and undermine his monopoly. Or he might be underestimating how industrious some of the other players had become and they could be poised to put up competing health potions. Yet this didn’t change the fact that his city needed money, and right now, this looked their best option. Even if they dealt with Thorn and grew their population, money would always be a problem.

  As Jason’s hand hovered over the bid button, someone spoke from over Jason’s shoulder. “Your plan won’t work,” the voice said.

  Jason whirled in surprise, immediately summoning Soul Slash. An unholy blade of energy suddenly hovered against the auctioneer’s throat. The man gulped hard, glancing down at the blade. “P-please don’t hurt me!” he choked out, staring at Jason with wide eyes.

  Growling in frustration, Jason pulled back his staff and released the blade of energy. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you should be more cautious about sneaking up on a person. What did you mean just now? Why won’t my plan work?”

  “Y-you can’t do what you’re trying to do,” the man repeated cautiously, now keeping a healthy distance between himself and Jason. “Unless, of course, you want to camp here and bid over and over on the ingredients. Otherwise, you can’t drive up the price the way you were planning.”

  Jason cocked his head in surprise. “How did you…”

  “I can see a traveler’s screens. It’s a function of my Merchant class,” the man explained nervously. “Otherwise it would be difficult to act as an auctioneer and aid the travelers. Also, your calculations seemed obvious,” he added with a small shrug.

  Jason grimaced, a hollow pit in his stomach as he realized that the auctioneer spoke the truth. The only way to ensure that he won each auction would be to sit there in the middle of the market and repeatedly bid on each stack of potions and ingredients. Clearly, that wasn’t practical. Especially not when he needed to do things like sleep and train. He was already spread quite thin.

  As the auctioneer saw his expression, he spoke quickly, “You misunderstand. I meant that you, specifically, can’t easily bid on merchandise in bulk like that. We call that batch ordering, and it requires a merchant account. It lets you automate bidding and purchasing while you aren’t present at a pillar.” He gestured at the lone column as he made this last statement.

  Now it was Jason’s turn to stare at the man. Was he trying to say that the game had skills that helped improve the ability to use the player auction house? That seemed ridiculous. Although, as Jason thought about it, he probably shouldn’t be surprised. The game had skills and abilities for just about everything else, so why not things like trade?

  “Okay, so how do I get one of these merchant accounts?” Jason asked.

  “You would need to obtain the Mercantile skill and level it to intermediate,” the man explained as though this was obvious. “Most people do this by joining a merchant guild and working under other high-level merchants.”

  Jason sighed, ge
sturing around them at the nearly vacant market. “Well, we clearly don’t have a merchant guild in the city. Are there any other ways to obtain an account?”

  “Well, you could also be the Regent of a city, that would automatically qualify you,” the man suggested tentatively. “But good luck founding or conquering a city,” he added, rolling his eyes.

  An evil grin began to stretch Jason’s lips as he watched the merchant, the man shuffling back a step as he saw his expression. “Well, it must be my lucky day then, because this is my city.”

  The auctioneer’s face turned a deathly white, and he stuttered in response. “Y-you’re J-Jason.” Suddenly, he was on his knees. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t kill me for my insolence. I s-should have known better.”

  “What are you doing? Stand up,” Jason barked, the auctioneer grudgingly pulling himself to his feet. “Now, give me access to a merchant account.”

  The man nodded so quickly that it felt like Jason was facing the human equivalent of a bobble-head doll. “Y-yes, sir! I can upgrade your account if you just give me a moment.” He tapped at an invisible UI with trembling fingers, and soon a notification appeared in front of Jason.

  System Notice

  Your auction house account has been upgraded to merchant-class. Five hundred gold has been deducted from your account for the upgrade.

  Jason stared at the screen, frustration bubbling in his chest. He turned slowly back to the merchant, involuntarily summoning his dark mana. “You didn’t mention it would cost me 500 gold,” he said slowly through gritted teeth.

  “Ahh, I thought you…” the man began.

  “Never mind, just shut up,” Jason snapped, restraining himself from the urge to throttle the man. The merchant started to answer and then caught himself, his jaw snapping shut with an audible click.