The castle was busy, especially the clan hall. A raid was being assembled. I noticed familiar faces from the Watchers, the Varangians, and Unity and barely managed to grab Balian next to the council hall. He was in charge of the clan while Komtur was away raiding Helt Akor.
“Cat?” he asked, surprised. “Have you come straight from Eyre? What is going on there? We’re getting reports about lots of Pandas!”
“Yes, this is true,” I replied, deciding against delving into details. “Listen, Raccoon, I need to put a girl here for a while. It’s dangerous in Eyre.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard enough,” Balian said, throwing a measuring look at Weldy, who was holding Frederick. “A companion?”
“No, just a friend.”
Balian the Raccoon: Not a companion, but almost there, right?
HotCat: Something like that. So do you mind?
“Be my guest. There’s lots of space here; half of the players don’t live in the castle,” Balian said with a shrug. “We have many NPCs here, too. She won’t get lonely.”
“What can you do, girlie?” he asked Weldy.
“I can pick berries and herbs, although you probably don’t have any around here,” Weldy replied. “I can make elixirs and potions.”
“An alchemist, you say? Good. We have a big laboratory here in a separate tower. You’ll have your hands full.”
“We also have Olaf. He’s a great alchemist,” I added. “By the way, how are they doing? Any news?”
“They’re farming!” Raccoon said with a disgusted expression—he was known for hating PVE. “They found something there worth even rebinding their Soul Stones for. You can’t pry them away from there with a crowbar, only via a portal to the castle.”
I wondered about the new faction the Watchers had found in the Paths. They were so busy earning reputation with new NPCs that they didn’t scold me even for the loot lost at the Ziggurat. Well, they had mentioned it once or twice. And really, what was the worst that could happen to the loot? It might lose several points of durability, and that was it. In Sphere, all dropped items disappeared only upon reaching zero hit points. I had a daily teleport to the Temple of Shadow; I could get there any time.
After getting a set of keys from Xan, our housekeeper-slash-clerk, we picked one of the numerous empty apartments, and I made sure that Weldy settled in without a hitch. She liked it there: a mountain view from the lancet windows, oil paintings on the stone walls, and a spacious two-room “suite” designed for a clan member. Frederick approved of that choice, digging his claws into the tapestry with a drawn-out meow. Essentially, that place had everything and, most importantly, security—the Watchers would protect her. She would also have things to do: Condor’s alchemic lab was quite spectacular and had everything for leveling up alchemy.
I still had to figure out the issue with delivering elixirs to the Dan-na-Eyre army, but it didn’t require a lot of hands-on management. The shipments were transported directly from Davna; make a few corrections, send out several letters, and they were set to go. The system still needed some measure of control, but I hoped that for some time, it would function independently.
After dealing with that, I returned to Eyre. My inbox was bursting with PMs and letters. The Pandas were ominously silent. Maybe after the conversation with Phantom and Jerkhan, they had realized that it was pointless. As if I would pay them back! Fat chance!
* * *
Five mil was a serious amount of money, and at that moment, it felt astronomical to me. My knees were quivering as the adrenaline went away. I couldn’t forget Phantom’s final phrase. Most likely, we would have to meet, even if I didn’t want that.
I decided to leave a million in the game and withdraw the rest. That money would solve all my real-life problems; it was enough to pay off the loans and live comfortably for a pretty long time. I wouldn’t have to bother myself with dredging up funds for the next monthly payment, allowing me to focus on yummy trading.
That’s where the first surprise hit me. The withdrawal request sent via the banking interface was immediately blocked. The money was frozen in my account, the application crossed with a bold red line, and a letter emblazoned with the golden insignia of the Golden Hamster fell into the tray.
Chapter 4
Dear customer, we inform you that in accordance with paragraph 3, item 5 of the Federal Law of Confederation “On the rules of circulation of virtual currency,” all exchange amounts over one hundred thousand terro must be registered in branch offices of the issuer of the virtual currency. The list of required documents is as follows...
DAMMIT! The so-called Gaming Codex governing the legal relations between the players and the gaming companies had a lot of fine points that I had no idea about, being used to moving under the radar. As I examined the letter and the quoted law, I realized that I was expected to willingly present myself to the nearest Golden Hamster office, identify myself, give them copies of my IDs with a digital signature, and fill out a special bank and a tax declaration. Then the clerks would accept my application.
Amounts under one hundred thousand terro didn’t require any red tape at all and could be withdrawn quickly enough. I tried splitting the money into several smaller applications, but it didn’t help. The admins weren’t fools; they controlled the entire sum, no matter the number of lots. Basically, without any papers, taxes, and other red tape, I could withdraw no more than a million gold per month. Anything over that was under strict control.
I realized that they really didn’t like giving out large sums. I had to think about that later: read the forums, figure out the whole deal. So why was it like that?
Around ten years before, after the collapse of the global economy, the creation of the Confederation, and the victory march of the Russian-Japanese golden terro across Eurasia, we had received new laws regulating the flow of cryptoelectric virtual currency. In short, it was officially recognized by the government but was subject to audit, control, and taxation. The system had already been tested in Japan, currently resting at the bottom of the sea. Trillions of minor transactions were incredibly hard to track, which is why the limit of one hundred thousand terro was imposed. If you wanted to withdraw any more, you had to file a tax return and pay. Nobody cared about the small fry—which I used to be until that day.
At that time, all VR games had switched over to the then-innovative “living economy” scheme. With real money being both deposited and withdrawn from virtual reality, in-game currencies stopped being candy wrappers. It was a real boom, which I had taken part in—and made money in the process.
Everyone shared the same problem, however. Sooner or later, any in-game currency lost its value. I had seen it myself. Players kept farming more and more, and wares grew cheaper. Exchange rates plummeted, requiring you to farm even more to earn money, and so on. After milking a game dry, professional farmers moved on to another. Admins tried fighting the issue; some redenominated their currency, and some, like COSMOS ONLINE, tried exerting strict control over the exchange rate. All of that resulted in one thing: the black market blossomed, giving rise to gold sellers like COSMOGOLD and dealers like myself.
Upon its launch, Sphere of Worlds had proposed a new scheme. Its accountants made an unprecedented move, securing their entire virtual stock fund with a bank deposit. Sphere had only one issuer—the Golden Hamster bank—the amount of money circulating in it was finite, and any issuance was supported by a deposit made in the government’s golden exchange standard. That’s what made the exchange rate steady and the currency stable. After that, they created a generic auction where players made bids, buying and selling currency from each other, and the admins received a fee for processing and matching the applications. However, as I found out, large amounts were a different story.
I wasn’t going to give up, of course. Officially, there was no withdrawal limit, so I decided to act. Anyone could get an ID scan, a police retinal code, and tax ID online—they were stored in each citizen’s personal communicator, w
hich could be used to provide a digital signature as well. The only thing that bothered me was visiting the Golden Hamster, but it seemed inevitable. The closest to me was in Eyre, and that’s where I headed.
Trouble found me as soon as I reached the Trade Quarter. It was getting dark, and multitudes of lanterns above the street stalls, lit windows, and torches carried by passing sentries illuminated the busy market square.
I was walking with my hood pulled over my head, faceless and anonymous. Neither my status nor nickname were shown; identifying me was impossible. Yeah, right. The signature logo on the sign—a coin with a hamster emblazoned on its head side—was already close when two grey figures separated from the shadows beneath the herald stone. On some level, I had expected something like that, which is why I kept my hand right on Aelmaris’ grip. So the hunt for me had already started? Only a few hours had passed!
They were wearing grey hoods of disguise. Blades flashed in the dim light of the torches, and the combat log sprang to life. Aggression in the peace zone? They had very little time to kill me before the guards’ arrival. The enemies skillfully circled around me, attacking from two directions. If one missed, another would hit his target.
But I wasn’t the newbie easily killed by PKers at the resp point anymore. We were taught how to act in such situations and how to fight two or more opponents and emerge victorious. The main rule was to attack rather than defend; act rather than react. To impose your will upon your enemy and catch them unaware!
I parried the blow from the man on the right with a brief swing of Aelmaris, stripping him of his weapon, and immediately stepped between them, slashing at the place where the second opponent was supposed to be. I almost managed to hit him, too, but a ring of flame swept over us, roaring. The third PKer had used a scroll or a spell of Grand Fire, deciding to take me down for good, even if at the cost of the others’ lives.
Grand Fire was almost an instant kill. The resistance stats of my gear allowed me to hold out for around five seconds, but even a high-level character couldn’t survive in the epicenter of that spell. A wave of fiery DoTs emptied my health bar, as enemies and probably a few random passers-by collapsed around me. Were they really prepared to lose karma for one measly kill?
I chuckled. Those guys were out of luck. The Soul Forge Gem once again procced, and I could respawn any time. As a ghost, I watched a guard patrol burst into the square and butcher the remaining wannabe assassin. None of them were from Pandorum but rather belonged to a small PK clan, the Vipers. Curious. Apparently, my bounty was large indeed if someone was throwing Grand Fires around the city streets. I would have to run a check on that.
I rose from the dead, looted the failed assassins (although they didn’t have any valuables on them), and finally entered the office of the Golden Hamster.
As usual for Sphere, the decor was on point. Respectable-looking gnomes busy pouring over piles of papers filled with scribbles; massive candlesticks, seals, inkwells, quills... Upon hearing my request, the NPC teller paused for a bit but eventually escorted me into the manager’s office. He was a player, or rather a Golden Hamster employee in the shape of a big-bellied, black-bearded zwerg, at least judging by the gold color of his nickname. From the looks of it, he had just been summoned, as the office had clearly been empty until several minutes before.
He spent a while inspecting my application and my e-documents and suddenly asked, “You’ve stated ‘commerce’ as the source of your funds. Could you elaborate?”
“Is this necessary?”
“It’s in your interest. You see, I know that this amount was paid to you in one installment by the player called Phantom, Euthanasia clan. Is this right? Please explain in writing what it was paid for.”
Whoa, now that was a demand. Weren’t they overstepping?
“I don’t get it. Must I tell you the details? What if this is a confidential trade secret?” I decided to show my indignation and added a bit of steel to my voice.
“I repeat, this is in your interest. Phantom has created a ticket asking for a refund. This is a large sum, and we have an obligation to investigate this situation. Until it is resolved, the money in your account will be blocked.”
“Seriously? And what reason did he name? It was all purely game-related, anyway.”
“We cannot give you this information. Please write down your own version of the circumstances in which you received the money.”
The floor started shaking beneath my feet. So that’s how it was? A ticket? Were the Pandas trying to pull one over on me? Never! Ignoring the zwerg fidgeting in front of me, I reclined in a chair and called my personal manager, Akiru Sokolovskaya.
Thankfully, she answered almost immediately. I gave her a brief overview of the situation, mentioning my takeover and ransom of Pandorum’s juggernaut and the problems with withdrawing my well-earned money. Any applications sent by Diamond players received top priority; let her work.
“I see your point,” Akiru said after hearing me out. “Personally, I think you’re in the right. I will address your issue immediately. Still, by filling out the form as asked by the bank employee, you will speed up the process.”
“One more moment,” the Hamster’s manager said after getting and inspecting his demands. “You need to fill out a tax return form. Will you do it yourself or make use of our service? It will cost...”
Those swindlers! Basically, after their fee and the state tax, I would lose more than twenty-five percent of the original sum! With a flick of the wrist, four million gold—around three hundred, ninety thousand terro—transformed into two hundred, ninety thousand. Really, that would make anyone consider pulling out money illegally. I had just given them ninety thousand terro, almost a million of in-game currency!
Oh no, guys, this won’t do, this won’t do at all. My greed took over, and I spent a while figuring out how much money I needed exactly, ultimately changing the sum to two million gold or two hundred thousand terro. That was the minimum sum I needed in real life; the rest would remain in Sphere for the time being. I would have to learn the withdrawal scheme in detail; maybe there was a way to game it.
“If Phantom’s ticket is declined, how soon will the money be transferred to me?” I asked the manager, who was exhausted after filling out dozens of forms.
“There are bids for buying that amount of in-game gold,” he replied, shrugging. “Almost immediately, I think. Please wait!”
* * *
My father used to say that mornings were never good. To be honest, I had no idea why. A thin ray of sunshine slipped through the gap between the carelessly drawn curtains and gently tickled my nose. It was July; the sun rose early.
Finally awake, I fumbled about the nightstand. The communicator I had left there the night before unfolded in my hands, transforming from a wrist bracelet into a square panel. After identifying my face and my retina, the screen flashed an array of messages.
Yay! A payment had been deposited in my account! I got a transaction from Golden Hamster for the amount of one hundred, fifty-three thousand terro. So Phantom’s ticket was declined, and everything was fine. I was rich, dammit!
When I had found myself penniless after Nick’s scam, I became aware of the fragility of my life and the way of things. I felt insecure about my future. Finally, I was about to end this! I had made calculations long ago. Monthly loan payments for the capsule and the apartment weighed me down like a stone hanging around the neck of a drowning man. The interest, the commissions, the fees—all of that consumed money at annoyingly high speed. When I got the opportunity to escape that ball and chain, I would have been a fool to let it slip away.
I got online and checked my loan accounts. One hundred, seven thousand terro was the mortgage loan; the VR capsule needed thirty more thousand. Really, the comm was an amazing thing; our parents had never had them. A phone, an instant messenger, a camera with a micro projector, personal ID, a credit card, an immobilizer, the police code, a personalizer—all of that in one tiny strip ma
de of metal and carbon fiber. It was one of the marvels of Japanese engineering that had transformed our country over the last three decades. I could do everything without leaving my bed.
I ordered my Magic Home to make me coffee and unflinchingly tapped the “Repay online” icon on my bank’s website. Several minutes later, the money was gone, funneled to two different accounts. I had no debt, and my balance shrunk to sixteen thousand terro. From now on, I had no way back. Shivers ran down my spine. I knew that nobody was going to forgive me and that the Pandas would keep trying to get their money back, even using real-life methods. In their eyes, I was a backstabbing scammer. Most of Pandorum was British people from Australia and Europe, Germans, Danes, and citizens of the Northern Alliance. Those countries seemed far away, but globalization made distance not an issue. Still, I didn’t think they would follow Goggy’s example and put pressure on me in real life. Most likely, they’d choose in-game methods. And even if they decided to switch to an open conflict, they had no idea about the Magister, Mr. Leo, or my connection to Sphere’s administration. Goggy had already broken his teeth; they would meet the same fate. Well, maybe.
Shadow Seer (Rogue Merchant Book #3): LitRPG Series Page 5
