We fell silent. The day before, it had taken all of my self-control not to reveal my emotions at receiving the gift. Luckily, my friends hadn’t noticed anything. They must have thought that my shaken expression was caused by their gift’s sheer value. Which was good. They didn't need to know anything about my problems.
And as for their gift—the disgraced programmer left me with no choice, really. As soon as I'd confirmed acceptance, the ring clung to my index finger like a hungry tick, much to my and the others’ astonishment.
“Have you tried to remove it?” Dmitry asked.
“You can’t. According to Rrhorgus, the ring's setup works similarly to that of a rune. The only difference being, you apply your runes to your items and this bastard snatched my finger instead.”
“Any effect?”
I shrugged. “None whatsoever. All my skills and other stats are still the same. I haven't grown a pair of donkey ears, either.”
He guffawed. “It's early days still.”
I cracked a sad smile.
'It's okay,” he grinned. “The administration express their appreciation of your cooperation and suggest, for the umpteenth time, that you change your race.”
“They appreciate it, yeah right. Appreciating the cooperation of their guinea pig. I don't think so. I'm meeting up with Flint tomorrow. I might sign up for an instance.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. So,” he sat up straight, rubbing his hands, “how about another one to celebrate your new level?”
We spent the next hour appreciating his excellent brandy. I wasn't sure about Dmitry, but personally I'd forgiven Dad a long time ago. When I'd been a little boy I think I'd even hated him. As I'd grown up, my hatred had dulled into indifference. And once Christina got sick, all earlier problems had seemed like... like they hadn’t been problems at all. I'd suffered a complete reality shift.
It didn't take me long to get to the module center. I had a late-night conversation with my girls and sent them a few screenshots of the streets of Leuton and of the Old Bell Tavern complete with my smiling friends. My girls laughed looking at them; predictably, they wanted to come and see me in “fairy land“, as Christina put it. Also predictably, I promised that things were going to work out just fine, adding that we might be together soon.
* * *
I met Flint in the Golden Sturgeon—a small cozy tavern in the miners' settlement. Our previous agreement was to meet up at Rrhorgus’ store. But Rrhorgus, having introduced us to each other via his PM box and having sent us our respective mug shots for easier identification, had closed his shop for inventory. The looming introduction of the water world meant that all the vendors would have their hands full. To put it nicely, Rrhorgus had more important things to do with his time than shepherd us around.
The tavern was empty: at eleven in the morning, everybody was busy working. Apart from me and Flint drinking our coffees, the only other customers were a couple of dwarves talking in the far corner.
“Why don't you work for the dwarves?” Flint asked me once our introductions were over.
I shrugged. “They didn't hire me. I came to them on my very first day in the game. They said something about all vacancies already being filled.”
“I see. You came to see them wearing your zero-level clothes, didn't you? No wonder. They have a competition for newbs: if you win, their guild will accept you on probation—depending on race, of course. I would have stood zero chance. They only want dwarves and gnomes, but your race has more in common with them.”
I dismissed his suggestion. “Whatever. It's done now.”
“True. I'm quite happy without them. We keep doing instances—there're loads here—and earn some decent money, similar to what they make farming sapphires. No one standing over you. Lord Shantar's boys keep mopping up the dungeons and bringing newbs in for a bit of leveling, so we get our share, at least two trips a week. Our group keeps in Shantar's good books so we have everything covered without having to go cap in hand to those Stonefoot pigs.”
“Flint, mind me asking? Why me?”
He chuckled, then ran his hand under his chin, checking the non-existent stubble. “That's straightforward enough.”
I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He took a sip from a miniature cup and spoke. “Ever since our fifth member has left, we've been passively looking for a new group member. We have a tight team. No free riders trying to capitalize on fellow players' hard work. We can afford working the four of us. There is no rush. But as you understand, four isn't the same as five.”
“From what I understand, a group of your reputation should have no problem hiring honest hard-working people.”
“It's not that easy, Olgerd. It may sound like fantasy, but there are a lot of honest people around. But... there's always a “but“. We need someone who can keep up with us. None of us want to take on a slow Moe, even if he’s as honest as the day is long.”
“I see.”
“And as for you... Rrhorgus recommends you. Plus there's your malachite stint. Basically, me and my guys would like to offer you a trial period. If everything works out, we might make a team of five, why not?”
“Indeed, why not. What are your terms?”
“Between the four of us, we work three to one.”
“Three with picks and one lugging?”
“Exactly,” Flint nodded. “Actually, we have two haulers. But Sprat is also speedy. He has no problem keeping up with the three of us. Sir Tristan is strong but not as fast. And Knuckles and I, we just keep chipping away at the rock. If you join, it'll be three to two—perfect. Each does his job according to his characteristics, and we’ll split the earnings.”
“Does that mean that the three of us will have to meet five people's quota?”
He shook his head. “It doesn't quite work like that. It isn't like in a regular mine. Our objective is to do the instance. The resources are non-restorable, don't forget. We begin afresh at the level before last—usually, it's level five or six.”
“Why the one before last?”
“Because if we mine ordinary resources, once we reach the last level, we might get a bonus of some quest stones. On one condition, though: the instance has to be already completed.”
“I see.”
“Exactly. And from our experience, five diggers just can't do it. Too much running to and fro. These aren't your malachite mines: quest locations are much deeper normally.”
“All right. Are there many bonus resources, then?”
He pushed the cup away from him. “That's His Majesty Chance. Can be twenty, can be fifty. Even a hundred sometimes if you're lucky.”
We fell silent. Seeing my pensive face, he added, “Take your time. We’re gonna go on a raid tomorrow. We'll be incommunicado for thirty-six hours. That gives you two days to ponder over it. And if you make up your mind, we'll do our next instance together, you and us.”
“I'm too short of thinking time,” I said firmly. When I'd submitted my application, I was quite prepared to join anyone. But these guys were too good. I simply had to accept. “Count me in.”
He nodded, then gave me a long look. “Before we sign the agreement, there's something I want to ask you. Is there anything I should know before we enter the instance?”
I expected something like that. Sooner or later the truth would come out, anyway. You can't keep a meteoric rise in skill a secret for too long. People start asking questions. And it was never a good idea to start a new friendship with ambiguity and secrets. I wasn't going to tell him everything, but I had to let him in on some of it at least.
“As a matter of fact, there is,” I said. “But... I know it would be stupid asking you to keep your mouth shut. Share a secret with a friend, you share your secret with the whole world. No good grinning, man. I'm sorry if I offended you but that's what my experience has taught me.”
He shrugged. “I'm not going to argue. You don't know us, that's all. Go on.”
“Basically, my char belongs to one of those d
ead races.”
He nodded. “And?”
“The programmer who created it has recently quit over some disagreement with the top brass. The admins then removed Ennans from the game just to avoid any potential problems. They offered me a swap but I refused.”
He grinned. “Too greedy to lose your skill points?”
“Exactly,” I nodded. “The first day I nearly snuffed it but I almost did four thousand agate. Then they suggested I change race!”
Flint whistled with amazement. “So basically, you're sitting on a ticking bomb. Is that it?”
I forced a smile. “Sort of.”
“Any nasty surprises?”
“Not yet,” I lied.
That was it, sorry, bro. I knew it wasn't honest but I wasn't going to tell him anything else. What I'd said was well enough in case something happened to me during the raid.
“I'm ready to join,” I said instead. “It's up to you. I can only add that according to the admins, my main characteristics are immune.”
In all honesty, I expected him to say no. Who would need a group member whose future was so insecure? Still, Flint surprised me.
“Take it easy,” he said. “I have a few friends who play for dead races too. It's what admins always do: the moment there's a bug somewhere, they’re offering you to turn coat. In your case it's only a few skill points, but imagine someone with a level-100 char who's suddenly told, would you mind changing your race for a safer one because there might be a glitch there somewhere? Heh. That's not a problem, man. Here, I'm sending you the contract, have a look. I'm gonna order us some more coffee.”
The contract seemed legit. Besides, it was a one-off. I only had to do one instance. I signed it.
“Excellent,” Flint smiled. “Welcome to the group! Tomorrow morning I'll send you an invitation from the entrance to the grotto.”
“Where're we going?”
“Our boss' little boy is going to take some newb girls to the Spider Grotto for a bit of leveling. Hey, what's up? What's the sad face for?”
True, the name of Shantarsky Jr. had dampened my excitement which must have reflected in my facial expression. “There's something else I forgot to tell you.”
His stare grew serious. “Which is?”
“I'm not his flavor of the month.”
Flint guffawed. Then he surprised me again. “Ha! That only proves you're exactly who we're looking for!”
I ventured a smile as he went on,
“This little shit is only friends with his toads and ass-lickers. We all have a bone to pick with him, so welcome to the club!”
We killed some more time over our coffees discussing various important details, then parted friends.
Flint definitely left a positive impression. What I liked about the group was that all its members seemed to be the same age as myself. Each of them had a family and a goal. Each of them took this seriously. Once again, I had Rrhorgus to thank for that.
I didn't go to the mine. I had too many real-world questions to sort out. The main one being, I had to change the capsule. The one I'd been using wasn't suitable for my new tasks. I had to move one floor up.
It didn't take me long to hang my hat in my new quarters—which incidentally were identical to my old lodgings. I decided against unpacking. You never know, I might need to move again. So I set my suitcase down in the corner to wait for further developments.
First of all I opened the Internet and started researching the Spider Grotto. It turned out to be the most common instance in the whole of Mirror World. Every cluster had one or more of them. I gave the mobs a cursory check: levels 20 to 35. The boss: Steel Widow. I didn't check the compensations—I wasn’t entitled to them, anyway—but I did study the resources info.
Gray Crystals. A tad cheaper than sapphires, they were used mainly by alchemists and jewelers. A popular commodity on Mirror World's market. Notably, their dust was used in the making of stones of Strength, Life, Stamina and Speed.
Just as Flint had said, the Spider Grotto also offered bonus stones—the so-called Twilight Crystals. Their value lay in the fact that they were mentioned in several major quests. In other words, they weren't used in crafting—but several major NPCs wanted players to bring them these stones as offerings or gifts. I'd already noticed that quest resources were highly valued in Mirror World. This was a rare and much sought-after commodity. Oh well. This played right into my hands. The only thing left to do was actually get them.
Chapter Fifteen
We kept a safe distance from Lord Melwas and Co. as we watched their pompous departure from the Spider Grotto. The men's handsome faces flashed cheerful smiles as they bowed gallantly to the ladies in riding habits. My eyes watered with the sheer quantity of stabbing and slashing weapons.
“Fucking boy scouts,” a Rock Rhoggh growled, stretching his broad shoulders.
“You shouldn't say that, dear Sprat,” said his bigger counterpart. “Nothing of boy scouts left in that lot. With boy scouts, you can still influence the little motherfuckers' growing minds. These are fully grown shits. I'm afraid they are fully formed now.”
“Fully formed scumbags,” a slight skinny Dwand finished his sentence.
“I have to admit I completely agree with you on this one, dear Knuckles.”
“So!” Flint said in mock surprise. “ Sir Tristan has agreed on something! That's a first!”
Grim bodyguards exited the dungeon next, following their master.
“These are Specters,” the skinny Knuckles screwed up his face in disdain.
“Meaning?” I asked, peering at their dark figures hung with cold steel.
“The thing is, dear Olgerd,” Sir Tristan began, “that the Mirror World phenomenon has led to the creation of all sorts of parties and movements in every shade of religious and political hue. Such formations are especially popular amongst the younger generation.”
“Do you mean that these Specters are some kind of sect?”
“It wouldn't be exactly accurate to call them that,” Sir Tristan objected. “Firstly, because they don't represent the result of some religious schism and secondly, because they aren't religious at all. They don't possess any particular teaching—neither founder nor any clear-cut tradition.”
“That'll come,” Flint said. “All they need is some time. They have their ideology basically shaped. Whoever compiles it into a concise formula will become their founder. And he won't be short of followers, trust me. As long as the idea is loud and attractive enough.”
“What kind of idea?” I asked.
It was Flint who answered my question. “To put it short, a reality swap. These people view the Glasshouse as a new real world.”
“How about their bodies?”
“They stay IRL in some sort of induced coma,” Sir Tristan replied. “There's no precise data yet.”
“From what I heard, those who were forced out of this state have developed mental problems,” Knuckles added. “Something like substance dependency.”
“It's only rumors, mind you,” Flint added. “They try not to draw the public's attention to it. The powers that be don't want any negative publicity. Right, enough shirking. The grotto is ours now. Off we go! It's do or die, LOL!”
As we marched toward the mine, I tried to stay behind, shielded by the Rhogghs' broad backs. Just in case. I couldn't be too sure if Shantarsky Jr. wouldn't want to take it out on me. New problems were the last thing I needed at the moment, and neither did my new group mates. Talking of whom—I'd turned out to be the youngest in the group. Knuckles who used to bear this title before me was two years my senior. Despite his guttersnipe nickname, he impressed me as serious—ruthless even.
For some reason, I'd expected to see Horruds as the group's haulers. But Flint explained to me that Rock Rhogghs could beat even the strongest race with their hands tied behind their backs. To run up and down the levels pushing heavy trolleys, this race was absolutely the best. Flint couldn't tell me anything about Sir Tristan—he didn't
know much himself. The man kept his true occupation under wraps. Still, judging by his manner, our strongest team member was unlikely to indulge in heavy labor in real life.
As for Sprat, he was his complete opposite, a simple and straightforward menial worker, a true Grinder. For some reason I got a feeling that he was just as burly in real life, with two callous spade-like hands and a cocked flat cap.
In other words, I was very happy I'd landed in an experienced group—and their age suited me to perfection.
As I stepped over the invisible line separating the instance from the rest of the location, I had a stupid urge to look back at the departing company of Lord Shantar Jr. He stood there watching me intently as he was saying something to one of his minions.
A hand touched my shoulder. I flinched, betraying myself.
“I don't think he recognized you,” Flint said reassuringly. “I wouldn't be surprised if he's already forgotten all about your first-day encounter on the road.”
I chuckled. “Had anyone told me I'd be scared of some little shit, I'd have laughed long and hard. But it is what it is, I'm afraid. I can't afford to lose time.”
Flint nodded. “That's right. Come on, then. The clock is ticking. We have thirty-six hours tops.”
“Who was it with him?” I asked as I hurried to catch up with the rest.
“That was Slayer, a level 80 wizard. One of his asslickers.”
“Is he also a specter?”
“Yeah, sort of,” Flint answered. “An aspiring one, so to say. You’d better stay out of his way.”
We caught up with the rest of the group as they descended the stairs between levels one and two. A set of narrow gauge rails ran parallel to the steps. Very soon they would groan under the weight of our loaded trolleys. Here, the terminals were located inside the grotto itself which made this mine different from the others.
Thirty six hours: the countdown began. Mechanically I checked the belt stuffed with elixirs. This was my first extended immersion experience. My bag contained energy food: apples, bread, meat and water. At Flint’s suggestion, I’d also bought a few stones of Stamina, fifteen gold each, just in case. If I was lucky, by the end of the raid I might get a buff of +3 to Energy every 40 seconds for half an hour.
Project Daily Grind (Mirror World Book #1) Page 13
