“I only have these stones here,” I said, at a loss for words and offering her the four framed Opal Tears. “I doubt they will look very good in the tiara, but considering the circumstances.”
“And you can’t craft new ones in time?”
“It took me 22 hours to craft these. If we only have thirty minutes, then I am afraid that…well, it’s simply not possible.”
“I recall someone only a few minutes ago mentioning how nothing is impossible! And I believed that someone! Mount the tears—at least they will look better than those ghastly hearts. We will regard them as tears of happiness!”
Digging up the tiara from under the mound of clothes, I turned on design mode and recreated the images of the four “Bloody Tear of Tavia” stones. Adding the projection of the tiara and hoping that I had enough time, I mounted my virtual stones into the sockets and opened my eyes. Let’s see what turned out.
Quest received: “An Opal tiara for a bride with a will of stone.”
You have completed the Quest “An Opal tiara for a bride with a will of stone.”
Item adjusted: “Bloody Tear of Tavia” has become “Tavia’s Tear of Joy.” Description: Even the color of blood, violence and aggression is capable of bringing joy and happiness. One merely has to desire it enough! Required to complete the quest.
If someone could be kind enough to explain to me why the quest changed its name, I would be obliged enough to give them a gift because the logic behind this sudden change escapes me completely!
Chapter 2. Shamanic Dances to a Tambourine
“The Duchess of Caltanor!” As Tavia made her regal entrance, the crier’s voice resounded through the hall. I never imagined that someone could walk like this. From my vantage it looked as if the girl was floating. Not a single fold of her dress, which was long enough to fully conceal her feet, suggested that the girl was taking steps. It was as if some magic had lifted her a few centimeters off the floor and was carrying her to the altar, and yet I was certain that no magic was involved in this effect. This was all her training and her experience.
Trediol—a handsome young man with a military bearing—was standing beside the altar and looked at the approaching the bride with unconcealed delight. Several moments was enough for me to understand that this couple were marvelously well-suited for one another. Young, handsome, and independent, they would make excellent governors of some Province.
According to protocol, Tavia paused every two steps to receive the guests’ blessings and, seeing through the veil of ceremony, I could tell she shared her bridegroom’s impatience. Even a momentary wait before the dream of your life reaches you, can be quite tedious. I didn’t know what traditions were invested in these blessings, but Trediol decided to violate them and, in spite of the cautioning cries of the master of ceremonies, rushed toward his Tavia. The girl hesitated for only a moment and, casting off her bridal veil, which was held by two pages, she too darted to Trediol.
No sooner had the two embraced each other, than they began to glow brighter than the sun and an explosion shook the spacious hall, knocking the guests and the decorations to the floor. To everyone’s amazement, both Tavia and Trediol had vanished!
“Honorable guests, do not worry!” the Emperor said calmly rising to his feet. The blast’s shockwave had bowled him over as well. “Our beloved young couple is perfectly well! They have been transported to Newlywed Island!”
A shocked hum rippled through the hall, and the NPC standing beside me—a provincial governor judging by his properties—whispered:
“It has been over a hundred years since anyone has been granted such an honour! Is it possible that these two have managed to create the Ying-Yang?”
“Mahan,” Turning, I saw Anastaria’s inquisitive face. It had been a while since I’d seen Anastaria this worked up. “Please tell me that you know what’s going!”
“What do you mean? You helped me arrange their rendezvous yourself. Of course I know what’s going on. Here’s the video—I figure you’ll understand everything without my having to explain it…”
* * *
“The Ying-Yang,” said the girl reverently, taking the stone from my bag. Oh boy. I think I may have granted her too much access. “Do you know what it’s used for?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted honestly. “But it’s real pretty as far as rocks go.”
“It’s not just a rock. I only have several notes about it, but they all basically say the same thing: No one knows what it does. Damn, Mahan, how do you always get yourself into these situations? What is it with you?”
I assume that this was only a rhetorical question, since Anastaria took my hand and led me back to the ceremony. Even though the young couple had left us, we the guests were still all here and it was high time to unwind a bit!
“Say, Mahan, doesn’t that girl over there strike you familiar?” Anastaria asked me several minutes later. Looking in the indicated direction, I almost dropped my glass. It was none other than Mirida the Farsighted, now at Level 133! The reason incarnate for my last eight years in Barliona!
“Yes she does. We destroyed Sklic back in Beatwick village together,” I replied, doing my best to sound unaffected. On the one hand, Marina (as the girl was named in reality) had helped me several times, even finding me one time in Beatwick; on the other hand, I didn’t particularly want to see her. Much less speak with her. That was all in the past and I didn’t wish to revisit it. It is pointless to try to figure out the reasons for what happened and determine who is guilty of what. It’s not like I would be released, unless the girl went to the police and confessed.
“Judging by your reaction, I can see that you two got your fill of each other back in Beatwick,” Anastaria said a bit mockingly. Her gaze, however, scrutinized me closely. Was she seriously trying to evaluate my emotions too?
“By the power invested in me by Eluna,” began Elizabeth at that precise moment, and I pretended to be engrossed in the ceremony. I had made up my mind—I would avoid any interaction with that Mirida. It is impossible to revisit the past and there is no way to bring it back. “I hereby pronounce Trediol and Tavia, man and wife in absentia. May the heavens bestow their grace upon them!”
Say what you will about Anastaria, she was quite considerate. She did not mention Mirida at all for the remainder of the ceremony. And yet something told me that sooner or later that question would pop up again. I would have to be prepared for it.
“So what did you guys decide last night anyway?” I asked Stacey, once the ceremony had ended.
“We got together, hung out a bit, waited for you and then went our ways. That’s the short of it at least.”
“Uh-huh. How very informative. Care to spare some detail?”
“Sure, I got some of that. We already knew that you wouldn’t make it on time—all the forums were full of posts about how the hero of the Legends of Barliona is sitting at a Jeweler’s stall preoccupied with some crafting. Barsa and Eric tried to rouse you, but nothing worked. So we met without you. We didn’t really decide on much. Barsina is going to start looking for people to join raids. Out of all of us, she is the only one with experience recruiting. Furthermore, she already has a website, so we won’t have to spend extra money getting one. My task is to find craftsmen and gatherers. I’ll try to find good but inexpensive players for our clan. I expect some will contact me soon enough.”
“Contact you?” I asked, surprised.
“At the moment, yes—me. You are a bit of a dark horse for a lot of players. For all they know, you might disappear as suddenly as you appeared. I on the other hand have been in Barliona for a while. Players value that. Leite volunteered to assist us with financial issues and accounting. That’s what he did when he was on the outside. Plinto will be in charge of training, Clutzer will go on training with me, and Eric will pair up with Plinto. Beside all that, I have another proposal—I want leave the post of deputy head of the clan.”
“You want to quit?” I asked with even more su
rprise. Somehow my conversation with the girl was turning into a series of surprises.
“A real clan deputy needs to do a lot of work, and I simply don’t have the time, nor to be honest, the desire for it. I had enough of that in Phoenix—up to my throat, in fact. I’m ready to help out as a consultant, come up with ideas, solve quandaries we come across, but I am not willing to do the job itself. We need a person who can dedicate practically 80% of their time to this job. At the moment, I’m not sure who should take over the post—either Clutzer, or Barsa or some new person we find. Everyone else isn’t really suited for it.”
“Just great,” I muttered, mulling over the news. Anastaria wants to give up her leadership position. Who could see that coming?
“Uh-huh. It’s great all right. Tonight at nine we’ll have another meeting. Here’s the invitation. We’ll discuss my resignation then. Right! Unless you need me urgently, I’m going to dash off to deal with some business!”
“Dash on. I have something to do too.” I replied, accepting the invitation to the clan meeting at the Golden Horseshoe.
“Just make sure you don’t wind up crafting something, you great craftsman you!” Stacey smiled and, giving me a flick on the nose, went off in the direction of the auction. Well, let her go—I’ll return that flick of hers at a later date. For now I needed to get to the Bank!
Digging around the settings of the updated mail Imitator, I sadly remembered my programming past. Discarding the system’s recommended templates, I began to dig around the mail sorting logic. Let’s see…I didn’t touch the inbox settings—mail from people I knew and those within a 100 meter radius would still come in instantly, while everyone else’s mail would be accepted only once every two hours. I’d rather not have a constant stream of notifications scaring me. Next.
“Hi! My name is blah-blah-blah, I know how to blah-blah-blah, and wish to join your clan on the following conditions...”
I forwarded all the letters concerning prospective personnel to Barsina. If she was appointed head of recruiting last night, let her get an idea of what lies ahead of her. Apply filter…
That’s strange. By my estimates, of the two million letters I had received in the past few hours, about half should have been discarded. And yet this minor wish sank like a tiny yacht against the reef of reality. Twelve thousand less. I didn’t even know how to feel when I realized that I would have to deal with the remainder on my own. Why are there so few people wanting to join my clan anyway?
“Excuse me, but are you ignoring me or something? I’m going to find you in reality. I already have your address. We’ll be waiting for you tomorrow, you jerk! I’ll teach you how to respect the right people!”
Messages like that were destined for the blacklist without the possibility of being retrieved. Look at that—they’d already found me! Oh I’m so, so scared. Apply filter…
Thirty percent less. Damn! I was hoping that filter would deal with the majority. What’s the rest about then?
“What’s up! I saw your video from the Dark Forest! You sure did a number on those guys! Really good work, good job! By the way, you’ve got some cool projections!”
Once I had set up an auto-reply to this category of messages, and deleted all the spam and advertisements, the size of my inbox shrank to a manageable three thousand messages. For the rest, I was forced to employ the services of my Imitator, since the remaining messages were analogous to:
“Hello! Everything is going real great for your clan! Keep up the good work! Hey, can I borrow thirty thousand gold? I’ll pay it back in a week…”
The remaining pile featured missives from lovers of fun and Anastaria, as well as simple-minded folk, whose writing even the Imitator had trouble understanding. For example: “Swinery affixed the triviality to the knee!”
What this person wished to communicate with such a message remained unclear to me. I was forced to remove these letters by hand, sending their authors to the blacklist. After two hours of work, I was left with 33 unread letters that simply didn’t fit any category at all. After making some more adjustments, sorting the letters based on whether I knew their sender or not, I was finally done with my mail. Of the remaining 33 letters, 31 turned out to be well-camouflaged advertisements and only two offered anything of interest: Out of two million! Crazy stuff!
“Hi, Mahan! I don’t know how you found out about the scroll. The only other person in the know was the agent who placed the order with me. In any case, that doesn’t matter. You need it, so here it is. A small warning—I stole the scroll from the Emperor’s palace, so don’t go flashing it around in front of any NPCs. They might start asking you some personal questions. We’re even now. Good luck. Reptilis.
Scroll acquired: ‘Karmadont Chess Set: Legends and Myths.’ Do you wish to read it?
“This scroll is property of the Emperor of Malabar.
The following text is accessible to everyone:
The Karmadont Chess Set is a unique artefact used to gain entry to the tomb of Barliona’s Creator. Twenty daredevils who manage to overcome the hardships and trials of finding the tomb, will receive unimaginable items imbued with the power of the Creator. These heroes will acquire unearthly grace and become the greatest warriors of the world. In the entire history of Malabar no one will be able to match their might.
The artefact is a puzzle that gradually reveals the secret coordinates of the tomb. One may find the tomb without the Chess Set, but only he who hold six or more types of pieces may open the entrance.
The following text is accessible exclusively to players:
The crafter of the entire Chess Set must be in a clan. Single players (players who are not in a clan) may craft no more than two basic-level pieces. As soon as the set is fully assembled, the following players will receive the quest for the search of the tomb of the Creator.
– The crafter of the Chess Set
– The head of the clan in which the last Chess piece was crafted. The head must have been in his or her post for no less than two months during the clan’s existence. Example: The clan was created in January and PLAYER 1 was its head through March. Afterwards, PLAYER 1 left the clan, passing on the reins to PLAYER 2. In May the crafter of the Chess Set joined the clan and created the last piece in August. The following players will receive the quest: The crafter of the Chess Set, PLAYER 1, PLAYER 2.
– The deputy head of the clan, in which the final chess piece was crafted. The deputy head must have held his or her post for no less than two months during any period of the clan’s existence. Example: See example above.
A player who receives the quest may bring twenty persons, including himself, to the tomb. Other players may not receive the quest.
Text following text is accessible exclusively to the crafter of the Chess Set:
The time for crafting the full Chess Set is limited and may not exceed one-and-a-half years. If the Chess Set is not crafted within this time frame, it will disappear and a global notification of this shall be sent to all Malabar residents. Number of remaining attempts to craft the Chess Set: 3 (current crafter—Mahan).
The Chess Pieces may only be crafted from materials acquired on one’s own or received in the course of a quest.
If the owner of this scroll is also the crafter of the Chess Set, the likelihood of crafting the pieces is increased by 25%.
Have a pleasant game!”
It was a good thing that I was sitting down because grasping the meaning of this scroll would have made me faint. It wasn’t so much the stuff about the bonus or that the scroll had to be returned to the Emperor—the first sentence was unambiguous about that. Or the fact that I didn’t have to craft the entire set. Four types of figures would have sufficed and the way to the Creator would open. I was more worried about the situation with the deputy head. If Ehkiller was familiar with the scroll’s text, then it would be in his interest to place Anastaria into the deputy head’s position, so that she would receive the quest as well…which is precisely what happened! D
amn! Stacey has been the deputy head for two months already—another two weeks and it’d be too late! Their whole dance with Rick, it follows, was no more than a diversion. It sure was timely of Stacey to bring up the topic of changing her post. Damn again! But why did she bring it up anyway? Doesn’t Ehkiller understand that he won’t receive the quest? I was beginning to confuse myself.
Realizing that I couldn’t do anything at the moment anyway, I opened the next letter:
“Good day to you, Shaman! My name is Kalatea. Judging by your progress as Shaman—the first Harbinger will soon appear in Malabar, and he won’t be a member of my order. Antsinthepantsa told me that you know of me, so I propose a meeting. Every day, at 4 o’clock server time, I will be waiting for your invitation. Amulets are not required. If you do not manage to reach me within a month…well…we will have to meet in person and speak. I am currently in Anhurs. Kalatea, Shaman-Harbinger of Astrum.
I re-read the letter several times, trying to understand how to get in touch with Kalatea. The amulet seemed not to be an option and neither was reality…should I write an ordinary letter? I doubt it. Seems so prosaic and un-shamanic. Stop! Un-shamanic? There is one option, but I don’t know whether it’s available to players. Once upon a time I tried to contact an NPC without an amulet—not knowing that doing so was impossible. All I got for my efforts was blindness and an unhealthy interest in my person from that Geranika. Four o’clock server time is exactly in an hour, so I could try and get in touch with Kalatea today. I’ve thought of how to do it. All that’s left is putting it into action—right this instant:
“I call upon a Herald, I request your assistance!”
“You called me and I came. If your summons…” While the Herald was reciting the boilerplate, I went over what I was about to have him do in my head. A 25% bonus to crafting the pieces from Karmadont’s Chess Set was a good thing, but the phrase “This scroll is the property of the Emperor” isn’t flashing in various colors, meaning that I can still get that bonus. That’s the first thing. The second thing is that something tells me that I should get rid of the scroll. Antsinthepantsa said that the higher one’s level, the falser the sensations one experiences, but upon reading the scroll, the thought that I simply needed to give it to the Emperor, would not leave me in peace. False or not—it did not matter. That’s the decision I’ve taken and I’ll stick with it, come what may. It’s a habit I acquired back in the Dark Forest. The third thing...Okay, there is no third thing, but that doesn’t matter either! Two things are enough.
The Phantom Castle (The Way of the Shaman: Book #4) LitRPG series Page 4
