The Long Road to Karn (Realm of Arkon, Book 5)

by Akella, G.

  We chatted for another half hour or so on various subjects till it was time to head out. The ritual was supposed to conclude where it had started, and Jaelitte had assured me that the concluding part wouldn't be nearly as painful. Thank Hart for small favors, eh?

  We made it to the Violet in silence, with the girl walking alongside me, carrying the bouquet. She was still carrying it upside down, but the very fact that she hadn't forgotten it in the Candle gave me great joy. The brothel was still completely empty. Not knowing what to say, I simply sat down on the couch, waiting for the four-hour effect to wear off. Everything appeared to have gone well, and yet my heart felt heavy—the part of my heart that was still human. As if sensing my mood, the demoness sat down beside me and took me by the hand.

  "Thank you for the flowers, Dark One," she said softly, and the next moment her body convulsed and went limp.

  I gathered up the scattered tulips in silence, then placed them in the decorative fountain—perhaps the girls would find a vase for them?

  How are you doing in there? I asked my wife.

  Same as always, Jaelitte replied calmly. Tell this one that I remember. And to wait patiently.

  Word for word? I clarified, but the answer never came.

  Dara woke up about three minutes later. Getting up off the couch, she brought the tip of her tail to her eyes slowly, then looked over at me and bowed her head low. I didn't feel like talking, so I simply relayed my spouse's words verbatim, asked her to take care of the flowers, and left the establishment.

  The rain caught me on the way back to the Candle, but I didn't quicken my pace. I felt lousy, having grown accustomed to having Jaelitte at my side in the few hours we spent together, and now being alone again. Sure, I still had Gerid, Kort and Treis, and the rest of my demons, but it wasn't the same—I doubted I would ever be as open with them as I was with her. Such were my thoughts as I turned onto the familiar street. Tomorrow noon I would meet with Astarot, and I hoped to be in Iskhart by evening. Almost there now, I thought to myself. It had been a long road to Karn thus far, and I couldn't wait to complete it at last.

  Chapter 17

  This time, my audience with Lord Astarot was arranged in record time. The moment I uttered my name at the citadel gates, an officer from the gray tunics emerged from out of nowhere and offered to escort me personally, to which the guards reacted with glances of respect and curiosity. Reputation is a useful thing, in this world as well as in the last, I thought, following the tifling toward the palace. I wasn't ashamed to admit that I'd had no reputation to speak of in the former world, and I couldn't imagine what I would have had to do to get even fifteen minutes with the governor of California or anyone at that level. To be sure, that world had plenty of monsters, but slaying them was a problem as they typically held high positions in the federal and state governments. Thankfully, that world no longer existed for me, and this one was incomparably simpler. At any rate, all I wanted now was to wrap up my business here as quickly as possible, and set out at last to Iskhart, Alcmehn's capital.

  Once in the reception area, the security agent handed me off to the familiar secretary and bowed out. This time I saw no skepticism in Sart's expression—the demon simply nodded and personally opened the door to the lord's chambers.

  The hall upholstered with jade velvet looked very much the same. The same weapons and art on the walls, wood crackling in the fireplace, decorative statues throughout, and Master Ritter sitting with the lord at his desk. It was as if the past two and a half months had never happened. As if there had been no Nerghall, no Celphata, and no Vaessa. As if my purse still had only three thousand gold, and Lucy the mare was waiting for her new owner in the Candle's stables. I closed my eyes for a moment to shake off the delusion, then opened them and nodded a greeting to the two tiflings.

  "Krian, the Prince of Craedia," Astarot said contemplatively, raising his piercing yellow eyes at me. "Who would have thought..." He made an inviting gesture. "I welcome you in my home, Dark One! Come in, have some wine—we have much to discuss."

  "Indeed, young man," the chief searcher shook his head as I settled into a chair next to them. "You have surprised us quite a bit last time we met, but now I find myself lost for words. Only, if memory serves me right, back then you were intent on accessing the Overlord's private library. I wonder what's taken you in the exact opposite direction?"

  "Oh, I just took your advice," I shrugged, pouring myself a glass of wine. "But there's a saying where I come from that goes, all is well that ends well."

  "Oh yes," Astarot chuckled. "Except 'well' wouldn't be the word I'd use to describe your accomplishments. But let us get down to the matters at hand."

  At once the lord's face assumed a grave expression, instantly transforming him from a relaxed and easy-going tifling into a hard-boiled ruler of an enormous land even by local standards.

  "On behalf of the entire dominion, I would like to officially extend our sincere gratitude for thwarting Rualt's invasion. Keeping in mind your princedom's severely lacking population, as a token of my thanks I am offering you three and a half thousand rebels and their families—around twenty thousand demons in all, of which one hundred fifty or so are noble. Prince Annat was supposed to talk to you about that."

  Your reputation has increased. Residents of Ashtar Dominion relate to you with reverence.

  "Yes, the prince mentioned it," I nodded, skimming over the system message. "Thank you, lord. Twenty thousand sentients would be a welcome addition to my princedom."

  I'd already realized that of those twenty thousand, no less than several hundred would be Ritter's agents, but that didn't bother me. Settling all those demons throughout the different satrapies shouldn't be hard, and by the time they made their homes there and the curse was lifted, they would be full-fledged citizens of my princedom. And even if some of them remained loyal to the chief searcher, so what? With the likes of my wife and mother-in-law on my side, I had nothing to fear.

  "I see you're not opposed to the idea," Astarot shifted his gaze to Ritter. "The prince will provide you with the details on all the captives. As well as all the necessary paperwork for you to sign."

  "Understood," I nodded. "On a related note: what about a peace treaty with my princedom?"

  "I see you're already navigating the local political waters, prince," Astarot chuckled.

  "Out of necessity," I shrugged. "All I really want are peaceful neighbors. Good fences, that sort of thing."

  "The treaty is ready, and we shall sign it in the stateroom later, as befits the occasion," Astarot said. "Faced with the prospect of a neighbor as baffling and unpredictable as you, I am totally on board with your 'good fences' theory, though I'm not entirely clear on the allusion." The lord took a sip from his glass and set it back down on the table. "This concludes the official part of our conversation—dinner shall be served in five minutes. I do hope that we'll have the pleasure of your company, prince?"

  "And that you'll indulge a couple of old men with tales of your grand adventures," Ritter added. "Annat has reported everything to us already, but we'd love to hear all of that 'everything' from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

  "Yes, of course," producing the pipe from my bag, I looked to the lord for permission. Upon getting it, I lit up and began my story. As usual, I kept it light, omitting everything about Jaelitte and the gods. There was no need to bring all that up, at least not without being prompted.

  The meal was consumed over the course of my story. Again, it was both bad manners and a bad habit to chat while eating, but given my situation... Still, my mother would have chewed me out, pun intended.

  Astarot mostly kept silent, with his right-hand man asking the questions. And sharp, judicious questions they were, the likes of: how was I so certain that the skeletons wouldn't turn around and attack my position outside of Xantarra? Questions that forced me to recount the events from six months ago. Even then, nothing I said cast my interlocutors in any sort of shock. This whole world was once a
game? Everything had changed only half a year ago? Ha! If that were true, how come they remembered vivid details from their lives before then? And did it even matter how some people perceived the world and the transformations it may have gone through? I didn't bother arguing—what would be the point?

  "The captives shall be moved to Jarus Province, on the border with your princedom, where they will await your arrival to decide their fate," explained the lord as soon as my story ended. Then he gave me a pointed look, and asked:

  "Are you off to Iskhart now? Or will there be more... diversions?"

  "Probably not," I shrugged. "I don't intend to listen to your wife's counsel anymore—I've learned my lesson the first time. How is she, by the way? Doing well, I hope?"

  "Oh, quit it," Astarot frowned. "You have personally destroyed all evidence of her involvement. No," he stopped me with a gesture. "I'm sure everything happened just as you say it did, and yet..." something flashed in the eyes of the mighty demon and lord of the dominion—a combination of annoyance and suppressed pain. "Let's just let it be..." he added softly.

  Do you see now the treasure that's fallen into your lap? Jaelitte said, her voice tinged with irony. If a quarter-breed can do that, imagine what a pure-blooded—

  Is that you, my darling wife? As much as I cherish your pure-bloodedness, shouldn't you answer your husband when he addresses you? At least occasionally?

  Whatever gave you that idea? she scoffed, and uttered not another word.

  Oh, these women! I'd be damned if I let her put me under her heel! Or so I hoped...

  "Ahriman's private library?" Astarot interrupted my contemplations.

  "Aye," I nodded. "If only I knew where to look for the information I need..."

  "Meaning you're not at all concerned with getting access to it?" exclaimed the chief searcher, who had been quiet for a while, his tone failing to conceal his disbelief.

  "Something tells me the Overlord is going to honor my request," I shrugged again, glancing at the sand glass standing on the mantelpiece. "I hope Prince Ritter will send me to Iskhart today?"

  "Are you leaving right away?" Astarot asked.

  "No, a little later. I need to pick up my mount first. I can't leave without him."

  "Right, the Lord of Ashtar smiled. "Who hasn't heard of the Black Demon's monstrous mount? Very well," rising to his feet, he motioned at the door. "Let's move to the stateroom. But don't forget to discuss the transfer of captives with Master Ritter. I wish you all the luck in Iskhart, Krian."

  "Appreciate it," I nodded and followed Astarot out of his chambers.

  Iskhart. The city of unending, unrelenting rains. It had been twenty days now without so much as a pause. I stared at the fly buzzing by the window that had somehow gotten into my private room, poured myself some more cognac, and reached for my trusty pipe. Size-wise, the city rivaled the human capital of Vaedarr, with the architecture's eastern motifs being the most immediately visible difference. It was like Baghdad from an old Arabian tale. Not that I'd seen much of the city thus far, moving around strictly on business. Pleasure walks would have to wait until the weather improved, as I had zero desire to get drenched in the rain. There was, of course, the option to learn the rain protection spell, but given that it would cost six precious talent points, that was a non-starter. Neither were there umbrellas in this world—hadn't been invented yet, apparently, perhaps due to lack of necessity? No matter—I wasn't here to invent anything.

  When arriving to Iskhart twenty days ago, I followed my wife's advice to book a stay at The Silver Blade, an inn for those of noble blood. According to Jaelitte, a barbarian prince simply had to move into the priciest and flashiest of the city's inns. That was how bloody proud we rulers of free provincial peoples were, apparently. As far as the whopping thirty gold per night rate, that was chump change for what I was getting in return—reputation! I had felt a pang of curiosity what kind of accommodations that kind of money could buy, but not enough to trade my private room for it. So, upon picking up the key to the rented quarters from the bellhop, I slipped him a gold coin and headed straight to my modest private room on the third food. Of course, I could easily transform my room to mirror the lush accommodations provided by Ar-Iraz—I wasn't hurting for gold by any stretch—but there was no real need for it, and I was lazy besides. All I had done was hang a few out of the thousands of wall paintings offered by the room editor. As for all the other elements—bed, shower, desk and chair, chest and coffee maker—they met my needs just fine. Besides, the less pointless bling in the room, the fewer distractions I'd have.

  That same day it turned out that Jaelitte had erred. According to the Decree on Barbarian Lands, barbarian princes were indeed entitled to an audience with the Overlord, only the latter had thirty days to satisfy their request—this caveat especially was most enthusiastically relayed to me by a tifling from the chancellery with a hawkish nose and almost comically protruding ears. The whole place had a very DMV-like feel to it—clearly, bureaucrats were bureaucrats, whether with horns or without. But at least I didn't need to waste the day standing in several different lines on account of my nobility—just like retirees from my past life, my kind got to skip right to the front of the line. And since I was the only noble in the chancellery seeking an audience with Ahriman, I proceeded right to the office indicated to me by the guard at the entrance. It was in that holy of administrative holies that the aforementioned big-nosed tifling, who had been tasked with dealing with my kind, informed me that the Overlord would receive me only twenty one days from today. "That's the earliest possible date," he shook his head despondently. "There's only one Overlord, while the princes vying for his time are as common as dirt, so piss off!" he said. Well, to be fair, he didn't say those words exactly—in fact, the tifling addressed me with all the respect and courtesy befitting my station—but that was the gist of it. Maybe he expected me to counter with money, but I did no such thing. All of a sudden the player in me awakened—and any player was bound to find lots of interesting things to do in Iskhart and its surroundings. Especially if that player was the only player in Iskhart and its surroundings. As to the question of what business I had with the ruler of Alcmehn, I calmly displayed several of my recent achievements, one at a time, and stated without hesitation that I was looking to collect a bounty for ridding the plane of a few baddies. And why not? The Great Lord of Darkness and an Elder Demon of the Netherworld weren't exactly chumps, and their slayer ought to be fairly compensated. Seeing the pencil pusher's eyes go round with shock, I added nonchalantly that I'd leave it up to the Overlord to determine said fair compensation, or whoever it was that did these calculations for him. Without waiting for the clerk to regain the gift of speech, I turned around and left the palace chancellery while chiding my wife relentlessly for not paying enough attention in history class.

  It's not history I should have been studying more of, but mental magic, Jaelitte shot back musingly as soon as the door slammed behind me. Then I wouldn't need to listen to all your grousing.

  Agreed! As soon as I rescue you, I'm sending you off to get that mental magic up to snuff. But leave some time for history, too. I need my wife to be well-educated...

  Bastard, Jaelitte scoffed, and was silent. I was beginning to see a pattern.

  After the palace chancellery I headed straight to the local hunters' guild. Every starting city had one of these. I never was quite sure what exactly their function was, but you could always get information there on the starting zones which had popped up on the map automatically upon my arrival in Iskhart. The same information was likewise available free of charge on game forums and specialized sites, and it didn't cost a whopping twenty-thirty gold per measly mark on the map. Unfortunately, that only applied to zones and dungeons of the upper realm, which had been mapped by millions of players by now. In my situation, however, this information was priceless, seeing as there was absolutely no data available on Demon Grounds either on the web or in the game's chronicles. In the end, after par
ting with around half a grand of gold, my map became richer by seventeen spots, all of them marked with the classic red skull and ranges of numbers. Seventeen dungeons ranging from level 18-115, and three main roads that led to them. On that same day, having stocked up on food and repaired my gear—I was happy to err on the side of caution—I mounted Gloom and headed south, in the direction of a small town by the strange name of Kaetana.

  Five hundred gold? I didn't even pretend I'd recoup anywhere near that sum. But what was five hundred gold to a rich kid like me? Heck, I had been too lazy to even check out of the inn. If not for the rotten rain, these nineteen days would have felt like a walk in the park. Rats, toads, brigands, skeletons, imps that had escaped from the lower plane—they all blended together into a single, forgettable mishmash of butchery. I'd even managed to pick up four unique quests, one of which netted me an epic level 80 bow, but if you asked me what those quests actually entailed, I couldn't answer for the life of me. The most memorable parts of those quests were the panicked eyes of village elders, the villagers holing up in their homes, and the uneasy yet respectful stares from the guards. It turned out that I had been overly pessimistic with my expectations, forgetting to account for the fact that clearing a dungeon for the first time yielded more gold and drops by an order of magnitude. And when all was said and done, my haul amounted to over eight hundred gold, twenty four rares, the aforementioned epic bow, a dozen and a half new titles, and a twenty two percent boost to my physical and magic damage. Not to mention the myriad alchemical reagents whose weight alone surpassed two hundred pounds. The common and uncommon quality items were immediately unloaded on the cheap to the local craftsmen, or given away for free if there was no interest in buying. Because I kept myself busy, the days passed pretty quickly. Only now I felt like some amphibious creature because of that damned rain, and I still hadn't found the time to work on my mining skill. It wasn't until today, on my way to the city sewers—the last dungeon on my list—that I had picked up the profession and had even dropped a few hundred gold on a foundry with a ten percent boost to output of the metal smelted in it... But the actual smelting would have to wait. And let it—neither copper nor iron were going anywhere.