* * *
I spent four hours with Mr. Kristowski and by the end, my brain had gone to a fine organic gray mush full of numbers and charts. The most stupefying thing was the situation with the tournament. Arranging a teleport into Altameda for an immense number of people would cost me an insane amount of money that neither the Corporation nor Phoenix were about to compensate me for. At the same time, I couldn’t back down — direct orders from the Emperor, that stuffed windbag. I hope that my monopoly on all commerce in Altameda’s vicinity — which I had as head of the region — would somehow cover these costs.
On the whole, the clan’s economy was stable, thanks to the labor force of players wishing to receive their Pendants. Manufacturers, craftsmen, gatherers, hunters — the clan was enjoying unbelievable opportunities for development, even if temporarily. Mr. Kristowski even managed to find several Sculptors among the lovers and send them to help Spiteful Gnum — another personal headache of mine. As a craftsman, Gnum was unparalleled — he had repaired Altameda’s gates, added new defensive works to the castle, made several extra defensive statues and slowly inched Altameda up to Level 27. But at the same time, Gnum was a black hole in the ledger. Or a red hole if I’m permitted an accounting pun. Under orders from me to provide the gnome with whatever he required, Mr. Kristowski had summoned and paid for the transfer of three players with insane Engineering stats from a neighboring continent, doing so without blinking an eye. After all, according to Gnum there were a bunch of klutzes working on our continent who had arms growing out of their…Serart didn’t bother pumping the gnome for information, but it was clear that this player had decided on some new improbable venture. Svard and his team began to show up in Altameda like it was their home. Gnum had outfitted an elaborate workshop for himself and it was already the third week that he was in it without emerging, passing his instructions through the amulet and not allowing anyone but Viltrius to come in. Even the invited Engineers and Svard with his gang were forced to work in a neighboring building, a second workshop. Or — what bothered me the most — the former armory. A minus to defense. In general, I needed to figure out as quickly as possible what Gnum was up to in there. For, two and a half million gold a week over some possible fancy of his was too steep a price. Even for a high roller like myself.
And yet, Gnum notwithstanding, the Legends of Barliona clan was enviably stable in the financial sense. There wasn’t some crazy growth, but we were in the black in the ledger — two million clean profit a week with our salary costs, property taxes for the castle and payments for the NPCs being made flawlessly. If it weren’t for the tournament which promised to consume all of the liquid capital we had at the moment, we would grow and grow.
At the end of our meeting I received a new list of Pendant orders from Serart — and reclined wearily back in my chair. It would be too wasteful to deal with the ‘financial red hole’ later, so I asked Viltrius to summon the manic gnome to me.
“He won’t come, master,” the goblin drawled apologetically. “His Craftiness is occupied.”
“His who?”
“His Craftiness,” Viltrius repeated dutifully. “His Craftiness ordered that he be called ‘His Craftiness.’ Your orders to me are to aid His Craftiness in every endeavor, so I didn’t bother running this question by…”
“Enough!” I interrupted the goblin. “Remember: His name is Gnum! Nothing else! Got it?!”
“Yes, master,” a smile appeared on the goblin’s face. “No more ‘Your Craftinesses,’ no more concubines and no more orgies — is that correct?”
“ORGIES?! IN ALTAMEDA?!” Viltrius managed to do exactly what Ehkiller had done to Anastaria several hours ago: Yank me from my relaxed state. “WHERE IS HE?!”
Viltrius reached out and touched me and the castle walls wavered, dissolved and reformed into a wooden door from behind which I could hear moans of pleasure come filtering in a steady stream. Someone was getting his rocks off and all that was happening in my castle! I’ll kill that scumbag.
“GNUM!” I completely lost my temper and kicking down the door, barreled into the workshop. This is my castle! I’m the owner around here! “WHAT THE HELL?!”
“Oh! Mahan! Hello! Just the guy I was looking for!”
I froze in the doorway, shocked by what I saw. Gnum hadn’t simply arranged a workshop for himself — he’d created a monster! Several of the walls had been demolished, turning the space into one giant hall, in the center of which stood an immense heap of machinery. An army of succubi roiled all around it, diligently hammering and screwing various parts to its body, moaning in pleasure as they labored.
“Mahan, I’ll need a Squidolphin,” Gnum went on unfazed, tearing himself away from his examination of various schematics, a portion of which was hanging from his work table. Tossing his hair, Gnum went on as if nothing odd was happening: “When are you going to go catch one?”
“What is this?” As soon as I saw that there wasn’t an actual orgy happening in the workshop, I began to regain control of my temper. Externally, at least. What the hell did Gnum bring all these succubi here for?!
“Scram, you little green rat!” Gnum hissed at Viltrius who had peeked from behind my back, causing the goblin to flee with a squeal.
Once he was sure that we were alone, Gnum continued:
“This is the Valor of Gnum I . I have to admit the name isn’t the best. So you still have the option of changing it. The options are Valor of Gnum I or Gnum, Craftsman Inimitable or…”
“I’ll ask you again — WHAT IS THIS?!” I began to lose the temper I’d regained.
“What do you mean?!” Gnum asked surprised. “Didn’t I tell you? This is the first ever airborne-transport-assault vehicle of Barliona. And what’s more is that no-fly zones don’t apply to it. This little sparrow can fly wherever you like — in Malabar in Armard, even in another world! It has cargo space for up to 300 players, ballistae and its own flight jammers, active magic absorbers, and a full set of dishware and silverware that I had to order bespoke from a guy named Beaux. Look, I even pinstriped the nose…”
“Gnum, did you just introduce military aviation to Barliona?” I cut off the gnome who was beginning to lose himself in his babble.
“What do you mean introduce?” Gnum reproached me. “I invented it! Though I need an engine for it. Without it, this thing won’t fly. The Squidolphin. A half-living creature that plays the role of a ship. If I place it in the middle of my power unit, the energy created should be enough to…”
“Stop! What the hell do I need this thing for?”
“Erm…What do you mean what the hell for? To fly around.”
“I can fly around as it is!”
“There’s a difference between flying and flying! When you fly, can you attack anyone? Aha! See? With this sparrow you’ll be able to…”
“Gnum, hold on,” I drawled, sighing deeply and dispelling my irritation. “Tell me, why are you doing this?”
“Erm…Well to do it. This is a flying ship! There’s never been one like it in Barliona! If we equip it with weapons, we’ll be able to capture any castle we like. Their defenses aren’t calculated for something like this! Or…”
Gnum began to expostulate all the advantages of having the first aircraft in the game, while I stood before him unsure of what to do. Punishing the gnome and stripping him of funds would strip my own clan of a very useful member who could repair anything as well as create new items from scratch. But to allow him to spend money on…well, ‘junk’ was the only word that came to mind…WHY would I need this?
“…And so that’s why I need a Squidolphin,” Gnum finished his thought. “When are we going to go find it?”
“Are you going to kill it?” I asked wearily.
“Pff! What am I, a moron? To the contrary — it’s all going to revolve around the Squidolphin! This is Barliona after all — you can do anything in it as long as you have a good foundation. So the Squidolphin will remain herself. Only she’ll be inside my power contou
r. She’ll still level up, gain experience, grow. Only inside a shell. I was going to use the tentacles to…”
“Here,” I pulled the embryo (that had basically been covered with non-existent dust) out of my bag and handed it to Gnum. “And it better fly. You have a month. Are there any questions?”
I couldn’t explain my sudden largess. Was it premonition? No, I didn’t feel any sense of right or wrong. Logic? Like hell! Logic and I don’t gel…Prophecy? Don’t make my slippers laugh. There wasn’t anything but my own foolishness that could explain this. I just wanted it!
“This is perfect, Mahan!” exclaimed Gnum, slipping the embryo in his bag. “Listen, I’m going to make one more call right now — we’ll need more workers. Come by in a week and I’ll show you what I have.”
“By the way, what the hell do you need succubi for?”
“Well, the project’s a secret but someone’s got to do the work. So I have to work with what I have. Can you imagine the surprise in Barliona when my sparrow appears over Anhurs?! Or over some castle? We’ll have to work on the bombs. There’s already countermeasures to magic…we’ll see how my absorbers handle what those Mages throw at them!”
I didn’t bother explaining to Gnum what his experiments were costing us and I didn’t inquire what would happen if the ship didn’t fly or what would happen if…A million ‘ifs’ that I kept to myself as I looked at the gnome who’d forgotten I was even there. He had already dragged over some tub and the succubi were filling it with water, so that even now a gestation timer was ticking away over the tub with the Squidolphin embryo in it. In two days, there’d be a new monster in this world.
Lifting the fallen door in silence, I closed the entrance and pensively headed toward the central building. Despite all his zaniness, I really liked Gnum. I respected his drive, his confidence in himself and his puzzlement at how other people thought differently from him. You couldn’t say he didn’t belong in this world and he was an entirely reasonable young man — only he lost all control when he began to work. He became mad in the best sense of that word. And I envied him in this regard. I would very happily forget everything and focus entirely on crafting new items. Even the same old Chess Set of Karmadont. But no, I have to manage, administer and run around here and there finding solutions to various problems. Blech!
Damn it! Maybe I should give it all up and take on some quest to complete to the end? Revisit the days of my youth when there was no clan, no problems with the Celestial, no Tomb. There was only me and a cloud of Experience hovering over me, just ready to rain sweet XP on me…But I have a clan to lead and a tournament to organize…And I need to make the Pendants I promised to Mr. Kristowski…
To hell with all this! It’s decided then!
Hello Sabantul! I’m ready to buy that map from you. We can meet in an hour in the Anhurs Central Square.
Chapter Eight. Lait the Reborn
Location unlocked: ‘The Cave of Feeris.’
Quest available: ‘In search of the truth.’ The cave is defended by three hundred and two Level 330 Mage phantoms and twelve Level 350 High Mage phantoms, headed by Feeris, the High Mage of Anhurs. Clear the cave. Reward: +100 Levels, evenly distributed throughout the raid party. Penalty for refusing/failing quest: 0 XP for slain phantoms.
“I just knew that I shouldn’t let you two in here without me,” Sabantul rubbed his hands eagerly, accepting the quest. “All right boys. I’ll be standing here to the side while you figure things out with the phantoms. And hurry up. I’m a busy man with many busy plans.”
I shook my head in astonishment at the Level 85 Hunter. Sabantul belonged to that very narrow circle of people that I hated from first glance. Though, to be honest, I never even knew this circle existed. Even Bat, one of my old acquaintances from Pryke Mine had initially seemed like a kind and pleasant person. Not Sabantul, however. Not only had he hugged me fraternally when we met, like he was some close friend or something, not only did he refuse to sell the map, offering to sell his services as a guide instead, but on top of it all he acted in the most careless, outrageous and rude manner — just begging to be sent to respawn. A single question of his (“How’s Anastaria in bed anyway? Should I order an Imitator of her next time I’m in the Date House?”) almost made me lose my head and destroy the idiot right there in Anhurs. If it hadn’t been for the Celestial players who’d let me blow off some steam earlier, Sabantul would have been dead meat. Although, he’s dead meat anyway, since even though I don’t hold a grudge, we definitely didn’t make any deal that I wouldn’t kill him at the end of the quest. I’ll hire some PvP aficionados who’ll ensure that this scumbag can’t get out of respawn until he’s learned some lessons. Nothing personal, it’s strictly…well, personal.
“Mmm…yeah,” mustered Plinto, screwing up his face in displeasure. “Mahan, I’m uh not sure we should go in there without backup. Are you sure that you and I can handle it? Maybe we’ll call in a raid and…”
“No raids!” Sabantul exclaimed angrily. “I’m not about to lose out on 33 levels because y’all are too scared. And there’s XP to be had for the kills! In short, grab your knives and get on with it! You owe me for inviting you to this quest!”
“Mahan, let me kill him a couple times, what do you say? ” Plinto’s message appeared in the clan chat. “The boy’s confused and needs help. I shall make him see the light. ”
“Sabantul, you do understand that we can’t do anything against these mobs?” I began carefully, unwilling to make things worse, but was cut off immediately:
“You want to screw me too? No problem! Pay the damages from the fraud clause and go wherever you like! Either we do the Dungeon together or you pay me!”
I frowned like a tooth had been pulled — I’d found my way into this situation and now didn’t know how to get out. The Hunter had insisted that we add a ‘fraud’ clause to our contract — as soon as we learned the coordinates to the Dungeon, nothing kept us from sending Sabantul to respawn and doing the Dungeon on our own. The clause had seemed overzealous to me, since I had no intention of tricking anyone, so I agreed without a second thought. Who knew that the situation would turn out this way…?
And yet, on the whole, I had to give Sabantul his due — he had managed to find the entrance to the Dungeon which was invisible even when we were standing within three meters of it! It was only when he pushed aside the branches of some bush that was luxuriating in this region that we saw the shimmering entrance between two small trees. I even flew up into the air to make sure — the Dungeon could not be seen from above.
“All right…” It was my turn to buy time as it had been Plinto’s earlier. “If we don’t have a second choice, I suggest we kite the phantoms in one at a time. We’ll deal with them at the entrance. Plinto, stop acting dodgy. The time has come to prove to everyone that you’re not simply number one for nothing.”
“If only…” grumbled Plinto, going into stealth mode. “First they let a bunch of Celestial players onto the continent, and then they cry about it. Hang on — I’ll take a look and see what’s up.”
“Can you do it without whining so much?” Sabantul gibed carelessly in Plinto’s wake. Plinto stopped for a moment and “This puppy’s doomed” appeared in the clan chat, after which the Rogue vanished around the corner.
A minute passed. I was getting tired of waiting and Plinto’s green frame let me know that he was still okay, so I tried to chat up Sabantul.
“Listen, here’s the million dollar question for you: How’d you find the coordinates to the Dungeon? This is a location for Level 300 players. At your level, there’s no way you found them by accident. That means you got them somehow. I’m even curious — where?”
“Five million and I’ll give you an answer,” smirked Sabantul.
“Like hell,” I smirked back. “Five million to learn that you read them in some book or killed some mob that dropped the map…No thanks — you’re costing me plenty of money as it is.”
“Whatever. You’d defin
itely want to know. Didn’t I write you that Karmadont acquired his powers in this cave? So then, didn’t it occur to you how I know you’d be interested?” Sabantul made an enigmatic and smirking face (which just begged for a well-timed left hook). “You sure would be surprised to learn the reason…”
“I reckon three hundred thousand is a fair price,” I offered, trying to mask my sarcasm and my appraisal of Sabantul’s intelligence. Does he really think I’ll pay? That I’ll rush to spend enormous sums of money to know how he discovered this cave? Considering that I’m already here..? Yeah…That’d be well received in Barliona. I can already imagine the conversations that would take place:
Alice: “I need money. But where can I get it?”
Bob: “Let’s sell Mahan information about how there are three empires on our continent! We can get five mil easy!”
I mean, kids these days! Sheesh…
“Nah, Mahan,” Sabantul drawled contentedly, assuming that I was haggling. “Five…Five sweet, ripe, juicy millions. And not in-game either — I don’t want to flash that kind of money in front of Roxanne. What city do you live in?” The question was so unexpected that I answered before even thinking about it. Hearing the name of the city, Sabantul exclaimed with surprise: “Why, we’re neighbors! I’m just three hours’ drive away from you! Anyway, I’ll make an anchor point — you two can figure things out without me — and I’ll head in your direction. We can meet at 11pm at the Bluebird Diner. Oh and bring Anastaria — I want to see what she looks like in real life. All right, I’ve set the anchor point — I’m out.”
Sabantul’s avatar froze and went transparent but didn’t vanish entirely — the anchor point was working. I stared at it in shock, still unable to find the right words to describe the situation to myself. What the hell just happened?
Clans War Page 18
