by Charles Dean
Portia let her eyes linger on Locke for a moment longer then turned to Anthony and said, “Well, I trust you to take care of this. I will return after I finish preparations to defeat my brother’s encroaching force.”
“Yes, Lord Marshal.” Anthony bowed deeply.
Locke, whose head was already lowered, straightened up just enough to match Anthony’s so he wouldn’t look out of place. When in Rome? He gave a mental shrug, not giving two thoughts to the submissive act.
“Do not fail me in this matter, Commander. I expect results.” She was gone from the tent so quickly that Locke might have been convinced that it was done in one step, leaving the two bowing men to straighten back up.
“Her brother?” Locke asked, remembering the oddity of the word. That doesn’t sound right. Defeat her brother’s force? She’s not trying to imply that--
“Don’t worry about it. It’s need to know,” Anthony interjected, cutting off Locke’s train of thought. He pulled out his sword as he spoke and set it on the war table. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I would like to think so,” Locke agreed. He and Anthony were probably the only two people in the camp who would admire such a plain-looking sword with a rough brown hilt. They were also the only two people that knew the sword’s damage. While most swords in that level range barely added up to thirty points of damage, sometimes forty, this one did considerably more. It was a one-handed sword with fifty points of damage and a bonus of fifteen to power. After the 1.4 update, such weapon stats were almost unheard of. “Though, I may be biased on the subject.”
“You’d have to be biased not to think it’s majestic. I bet that, after working so hard on so many, you’ve probably already figured out how to make an even better one.” Anthony’s sharp eyes shot from the sword to Locke.
That’s my cue. Locke suppressed a grin. “Well, not to be a braggart, but I do have a new blade for you to inspect for the next order. That is, if you’d like to inspect it yourself.” He opened up his inventory and pulled out his latest creation. He had made it just for this pitch: a fifty-five-damage sword with a bonus of eighteen power instead of fifteen. In all, the new version was over ten percent better than the previous one.
“Do you mind?” Anthony extended his hand.
“Not at all. I think it’ll suit you perfectly. Consider it a gift.” And you can return the favor by ordering more of them.
“So do you have the original two hundred swords we ordered?” he asked, inspecting the new blade.
“I’m sorry, sir, I was just going to finish the order out today. Gathering the resources needed took more time than expected” --since I didn’t want to pay market value-- “so it will be a bit longer before I finish.” His brain worked quickly to put together the numbers. With seventeen swords left until the order is finished, averaging a little under five minutes a sword, it should take me less than an hour and a half to finish the remainder. “I can be done in two hours,” he said, giving himself leeway to be safe. Finish early, and you’re a hero; finish late, and you’re in trouble.
“Hmmm. There will be no need for that. If you hand over what you have now, we can pay you right away. You can deliver the remainder at your leisure.” Anthony equipped his new toy and set the old one on the war table over the maps.
Locke gulped. Hand over the swords now? “We can do the transaction. That’s no problem. Would you like me to log off now?”
Anthony frowned at Locke. “In a bit. First, I have a question for you.”
“What would you like? Though, I must warn you, weapons are all I have experience in crafting. Armor is an entirely different beast and, while I can make it, it will take me awhile to get used to it. Until then, the quality might not be as good as that of the swords,” Locke said, anticipating that the commander might want a shiny new suit to go with his blade. Locke had picked the weaponry path early on. It wasn’t because weapons were more useful than armor, but because they were quicker to make, and people would pay the same for a sharp edge as they would a solid shield. While blacksmithing wasn’t broken up into trees, it did have its own ways of rewarding someone for specializing.
“No, it’s nothing of that sort. I wanted to hire you.” Anthony gestured to one of the uncomfortable chairs at the side of the room, indicating Locke should sit.
“Of course. What do you need me to make for you?” Locke was certain where this was going. And this is why I’m doing so well lately! That’s my favorite customer, Anthony! He is going to order another set of the next-rung-up longswords. He can tell quality when he sees it!
“I don’t think you understand: I want to hire you as an employee, not purchase your products,” Anthony clarified. “I’m willing to pay you generously and provide all the materials so that you don’t have to waste time on silly stuff like resource procurement.”
“You want an exclusivity contract? As long as the rates don’t change, and the work is steady, that’d be great! I can make sure no one in the world buys my products but you.” Locke couldn’t believe his ears. Steady payments for the rest of the year? Who could ever pass that up!
“I still think we’re not on the same page.” Anthony stepped closer, looking down on Locke as he spoke. “I need you to join the Holy Alliance, and in return, I’ll give you a monthly salary to keep up the hard work. I assume that ten dollars an hour is a standard rate of employment for playing video games, something you love, right?”
Locke’s face dropped so low that he could have served as a stunt double for a depressed hound dog in a used car commercial. Ten dollars an hour? Is he kidding? It’s a fair wage for a lot of people, no doubt, but I would barely be able to cover my own rent at that rate. I have to come up with thirty-four dollars a day just for my student loan, eighteen dollars a day for my rent, and then another sixty-seven dollars a day for Jessica's tuition. That’s not even counting in food, electric, Internet, game subscription, transportation, or anything my sister might need that I haven’t already planned for in advance . . . I can’t take a deal like this. This would bankrupt me! Is he crazy? “Umm . . .”
“I know, it’s a great deal, isn’t it?” Anthony pulled his sword back out and inspected it. “I’m sure it’s a drop from your usual rates, but for a steady client who can pay you for every hour you work? Give you a little something for every item you produce? You can’t beat that, can you?”
“I’m really sorry, Commander, but unfortunately . . .”
“What? Are my rates not good enough? Fine. Eleven dollars an hour.” Anthony’s nose seemed to point higher with every word that came out of his mouth.
Does he think that it’s that easy? That it’s just a matter of small pennies? If I didn’t have to worry about anyone but myself, this would be a great deal. But . . . that’s just not the case. I can’t take a deal like that! I’ll just explain. He’ll understand. “Well, sir, it’s more about the fact that I can’t afford that . . .”
“Why?” Anthony’s head snapped back, once more meeting Locke eye-to-eye with a gaze so sharp it could have split a hair. “I have been more than charitable with our guild’s time and resources. We have practically sponsored you for the last six days with continuous orders. What reason could possibly push you to reject our generosity?”
“Well, you see, sir, it’s just that . . .” Locke’s brain went into overdrive and his forehead broke out in sweat as the wheels turned, looking for a polite way to get himself out of this pickle. If he separated himself from the Holy Alliance, if he didn’t sell them any more weapons, there was a good chance that he would have a hard time finding even half the demand for the current shipment in his inventory--much less a demand that would pay as well as the Holy Alliance. But, if he joined, he would only be able to coast for the next few months using the money that he had saved up. He had managed to get ahead a bit, but after that dried up, he would find himself bankrupt soon after. What do I do? What do I do? The words raced through his head. He could tell that Anthony was not one to take rejection well
, especially if this was the ‘task’ that Portia, the leader of the guild, had given him before leaving. “It’s just that I have a lot of bills and . . .”
“What bills could you possibly have that wouldn’t be met with these rates? You’re just lying, hoping to suck the funds out of our guild like a parasite.” Anthony’s voice rose in volume until it reached the point where Locke was sure people in adjacent tents could hear him easily. “You come in here like a worm, squirming about on the ground, and dare bite the hand that feeds you?” His ire was evident: His cheeks had turned red and flared out, and his voice quivered with anger. “I can’t believe you are such an ingrate as to reject this deal!”
“I’m sorry! I would love to work exclusively with the Holy Alliance.” Or at least I would have until you started acting like a pompous, self-righteous jerk. Typical rich kid. Doesn’t understand how hard some people work just to make ends meet so we don’t end up homeless. “I just need a little more money to make it sustainable. If we can just talk about it--”
“No. The offer is done. Let’s do the transaction for the blades, and then I want you out of my camp immediately after. You’ve tested my patience enough. I opened my house and home to you, extended my hand and generosity to you, and this is how you repay me? I won’t forget this! Log off now. We’ll do the transaction and be done with this!” Anthony logged off and disappeared before Locke could say anything else.
Crap, that was such a precious customer. Locke fumed as he stared at the empty spot where Anthony had stood only a moment before. But at least I can make this sale, and if I’m lucky, find a new client. Actually . . . That Darwin guy . . . I’ve heard speculation that he’s actually a player. If he is, and his guild has a ton of players in it, then wouldn’t that mean that there are also a ton of potential customers? And even if I’m out of the Holy Alliance, I can still sell to some of the members over the forum, right? Locke took a deep breath as he logged off, already planning his next moves after the money hit his account. As long as he had everything he needed, this curveball wouldn’t be a problem.
Locke’s phone rang before he could even get his bearings in the real world. Crap, that’s the angry client. He grimaced as he looked at the phone, picking it up reluctantly. He didn’t want to deal with him, but he also didn’t want to miss out on his last paycheck. There were other possible options on the table, but this was the last solid check he had lined up until he found someone else willing to buy from him.
“Alright now, you bottom-feeding, upstart pissant” --Anthony’s voice dripped with malice and pierced through the telephone-- “I’m going to make this quick: You have one last chance to do the right thing and take my deal, or it’s about to get ugly.”
And there he is. The jerk has returned. “I’m sorry, man. I really can’t. Let me prove it to you. If you just give me a chance to explain, I think you’ll understand where I’m coming from.” Locke clenched his eyes tightly, wanting this to be over already. Why can’t you understand real-world problems, you rich son of a--
“Don’t even try to deceive me. I know a conman’s tricks when I see them!” Anthony almost shouted, refusing reason.
“No, I’m serious. Just give me a chance. Just please listen to me,” Locke begged, his tightening throat making it harder to get the plea out.
“Fine, have it your way. Here’s how it’s going to be then: Either you take my first offer of ten dollars per hour or I forward a copy of the email conversation where I bought items from you with real cash to a GM and get your account banned. How does that sound, you filthy traitor?” Anthony was practically screaming into the phone.
“You wouldn’t,” Locke answered, trying to call his bluff. “It would get us both banned. You’re the one who bought the items.”
“Don’t you even read? Didn’t you even look at your EULA? It’s not illegal to buy items, only to sell them. After all, the company claims possession of all items and characters within Tiqpa. It’s not your character. It’s theirs. You’re just using it, you idiot. Last chance. Once I send this off to the GM, you’ll be banned. A permanent ban that will make sure you never own an account again.”
“No! No, you can--” The double beep of someone hanging up, followed by a long tone, sounded out through the speaker of his phone and let him know that if Anthony was going to do something, he had already done it.
Blackmailing me over the phone so that there wouldn’t be an in-game record. Good job, Anthony. I’m really screwed now. Locke chuckled softly to himself, his eyes practically watering as his mind screamed. If he really did report me, that’s it. Any hope I have of being able to help support Jess are over. Locke took a deep breath, wiped his watering eyes dry and immediately tried to log back into Tiqpa.
Chapter 2
You self-centered piece of garbage! Locke fumed as he set up his login information. You’re really going to ruin my life just because I won’t bow down and call you boss? Does that punk really think he’s entitled to my services for all of eternity just because I completed a few days’ worth of orders for him in a row? What in the heck is wrong with him?! Locke’s anger didn’t settle one bit. The sinking in his stomach, the tightening of his chest, the shortness of breath--everything was slowly getting worse, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins was the only thing keeping him from sheer panic. Just watch, Anthony. You better hope my account is deleted because if it isn’t, then so help me, I will find a way to destroy your pathetic excuse for a dumpster you call the Holy Alliance. I’m going to make a thousand swords and sell them as cheap as I have to in order for the Demon Alliance to kill you with them! Locke was fuming, and he could have kept going, too. He would have sat there swearing at Anthony all day if it wasn’t for the fact that he realized he had spent more time cursing than actually logging in. Okay, calm down, Locke. Deep breaths. Count to ten, and let’s get this over with. He mustered his resolve, took the deep breaths and started up Tiqpa.
Locke’s attempt to get into Tiqpa was immediately shut down. He was used to seeing the image of a crowned king during the load, but before it ever appeared, a fancy blue box popped up informing him that Anthony’s jerkish, petty attempt to ruin his life had been a stunning success.
Your account has been banned. If this was in error, or you believe the ban was done for wrongful reasons, please contact a customer service representative or submit a help ticket online.
He was just about to exit the dive device and actually try contacting a GM when the boot sequence automatically resumed, and he found himself loading into Tiqpa. He immediately noticed the familiar hum of a bindstone, letting him know that he had successfully returned to his home city, and the bustling sounds of the city around him grew as the world loaded. Images of the market square came into focus, and he couldn't help but sigh as relief washed through him. Maybe Anthony wasn't as successful as he thought he was.
His hopes were quickly dashed, however, as the world flickered around him before going completely black. The sounds of merchants hawking their wares and the clang of anvils being worked in the forges went silent. Whatever comfort he may have felt moments before was quickly replaced by a growing sense of unease and anxiety that welled up from the pit of his stomach and threatened to consume him. The experience only lasted a few seconds before the world started to come into focus, but it felt like an eternity to him.
When he finished loading into Tiqpa for the second time within a matter of minutes, he was left with a strange sense of disorientation. Moving into the game was normally seamless and smooth, but this experience had been almost jarring. What just happened? Where am I? He craned his head around him in every direction trying to figure out where he was, and his sense of alarm grew with every passing sweep of his surroundings. Waves and beach in front of me, forest behind me and not a soul in sight . . .
“What in the . . .” He looked around, certain that a glitch had occurred. Oh, God, this isn’t going to be one of those awful stories where I get stuck in an MMO, is it? He started to pani
c. Something is definitely not right. Am I in the developer’s side of the Tiqpa world?
“Hey, easy there. If you turn your head too fast, it’ll unscrew and fall right off,” a woman’s voice called out from behind him, catching him off guard with its friendly word of warning.
Spinning around, Locke was greeted by a suit of full steel plate armor so large and ostentatious that it made him question how he missed spotting it the first time. “Umm . . . Yeah, sorry. It’s just that . . .” How do I explain why I’m so confused to a stranger? Locke was stumped. “I just forgot what I was doing here,” he finally said. He settled for what he hoped would be a convincing half-truth since he really didn’t know what he was doing there. “Have you ever had that happen? Walked into a room to get something and lost track of why you were there in the first place as soon as you walked through the door?” He knew that he was going to have to work for it if he was going to sell his prevarication.
“So you forgot why you are here? Well, do you know where you are?” the suit of shiny armor questioned further.
Locke almost wanted to laugh as he listened to a voice that belonged to what sounded like a cute, young teenage girl trying to be serious as it came from what looked like a giant ogre in full plate. “Well, about that . . . You see . . .” Locke looked around. “I know I’m . . .” Come on, Locke, you’re a salesman. You can do this! “I’m on a beautiful beach, on a beautiful day, and apparently hanging out with a beautiful set of plate armor that I just met for the first time. What’s not to like? It’s almost easy to see how I got so misplaced mentally.” He threw up his winningest sleazy smile and broke eye contact by looking back at the beach. Yep, don’t look at her or what you just did will be even creepier, you failure of a salesman.
