We left the tower and slowly walked down the gallery circling the castle. It was morning, and Condor was all but empty. A sentry player mounted on an archgriffon soared in the air. I glanced at the clan list—that was right, almost everyone was still asleep.
“How did you get out of Helt Akor? I’ve heard that you changed the Soul Binding point,” I said. “Komtur and the raid are still there?”
“All of us returned to the castle via the daily clan portal. We need to stock up...and we need you.”
“Me?”
“Well, we need you to talk,” Olaf corrected himself. “Come on, tell me!”
“Tell you what?”
“Cat, stop trying to feign innocence. Tell me everything, one by one. The Ziggurate, how you got into the Colossus, the battle with Ananizarte—how did it end? The Temple of Shadows. The Pandas, of course. I’ve seen the kill rating for the battle at Atrocity, and I have to know the details.”
Actually, I had seen it coming. Komtur was anything but stupid, but Olaf was the true brain of the Watchers. He wanted to know and control everything within the clan’s area of interest, which included me. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell him everything, but I did want to discuss certain moments, as I needed advice from a more experienced player. Olaf wasn’t nicknamed “the Prophet” for nothing: his judgments were wise, and his predictions usually came true.
“All right. We’ve figured out how to use the ‘elevators’ in the Crossroads,” the Prophet spoke up after hearing me out. “I hope you understand that this is confidential. We need to return to Helt Akor, get our loot, and search the Ziggurate. It probably has lots of interesting stuff.”
I didn’t mention the powers bestowed by my cloak. People didn’t need to know that I was able to return to the Temple of Shadows once per day. I had already taken the most valuable items of the Ancients found on the skeleton in the Colossus control room; they were gathering dust in my chest. I needed to identify them and either use them or put them into the clan warehouse. As for scrap metal, miscellaneous stuff like Ancient Alloy, and the loot from the Temple’s guardians, I didn’t care about that—after all, I would be tasked with selling it at the Bazaar, anyway. But if we were going back via the same route... I had a few thoughts about that.
“What do you think about the Pandas?”
“That is fucked up, absolutely. What the hell were you thinking? They’ll never leave you alone, and it means they won’t leave us alone! I can’t imagine how they’ll retaliate...” Olaf said and suddenly smiled. “And still, I’m pleased. Dunking them into a bucket of waste is priceless! Nicely done, Cat.”
“And now, to the juggernaut,” he continued. “This is Tao’s handiwork. A pretty basic trick. His clan has lots of rich boys. One of them left the clan, hid his stats, and pulled the trigger. Technically, it can be easily checked—just look at the history of clan members leaving and joining and compare the data.”
“Can you do it?”
“It’s complicated. The only people who have access to that are clan leaders or authorized members,” Olaf said, glancing at me. “I do have an idea, but... Fine, let’s talk about it later.”
“How are you doing in Helt Akor? Did you find a new faction?”
“Yes. A new settlement with a respawn point, Carneol. They’re calling themselves Wordless or Yearnful. Might be the Ancients’ descendants gone feral. Lots of quests, but it’s going to be hard—the neighboring caverns are packed with aggressive birdmen with a weird, non-random respawn. We’re trying to clear them.”
“So we were the first of all players to discover them?”
“Yes. It’s a goldmine. We could become the first to gain their reputation and get faction rewards nobody else in Sphere has. The stuff we got so far is junk, but it’s just the beginning. Good rewards start at Respect. When we gather everything at the Ziggurate, we’ll jump there via Soul Stones. It would be nice if you joined us.”
Or, rather, you and your sword, I mentally corrected Olaf. Without it, I was the weakest link in the raid, as Abbot kept reminding me.
“No dice. As you remember, my destination is the Sunless World. That’s where we were headed, and I’m not going to stop.”
“Well, it is what it is,” Olaf said, shrugging.
“I don’t need your help. I’ll get there another way.”
“Tormis will help you?” the analyst guessed. “Be careful, HotCat. You’re not talking about it, but playing with shadows is anything but safe. Talk to Abel. He knows a lot about it.”
Abel? About shadows? Suddenly, it dawned on me: despite my ability of Star Metal Wrath, the midget had managed to sneak up on me many times. The sword didn’t react to him, so it wasn’t invisibility or a class ability like stealth or hide. Could it be that Abel could travel to the Shadow Plane, too? And then Roa—how else could she slip inside the Shield in Atrocity? I could swear that nobody else had been next to me when I activated the spell. What a curious deal. I guess I really needed to talk to Abel.
* * *
Just as agreed, Keith Borland was waiting for me at Condor’s flying ships’ dock. The Watchers had long since made him an ally, and he could spend as much time as he wanted on the clan premises. His pawns used the opportunity to take on a small side gig, installing combat rigging on the Watcher’s second corvette. It’s not like they had anything else to do, anyway—both of my barques had burned down together with the Ragnarok.
“What’s with the ships? Are you going to buy new coasters? When?” they pressed me as soon as I approached them. “If you are, then...”
Yes, I was going to buy new cargo ships. I finally had enough money and needed to keep it in circulation, buying out the carebears’ goods and delivering them to the Bazaar. But first, I had to talk to Borland. I had special hopes for him.
“Listen, Keith, have you thought about what you’ll be doing after our contract runs out?” I asked the Octopus, who was clearly bored.
“What? The same as I’ve always done. I’ve already ordered a nave frame to be constructed,” Borland said, shrugging. “I’ll restore the Crabstrocity and keep working freelance. Why?”
“I want to ask you a question. What do you think about my business with the Northerners’ carebears? I mean, the delivery part?”
“What’s there to think? You’ve done nice for yourself.” The Octopus chuckled. “Orders keep coming in, and you could deliver them every day if you wanted. No competition. Why?”
I nodded, content. As a veteran captain of an astral coaster, Keith was good with numbers. He had long since calculated how much money I made from each Eyre-to-Bazaar run. He received all transportation contracts and saw the payments and the expenses on the ships’ upkeep, the fuel, and the crew wages. He knew firsthand that shipping was a profitable business.
“I have an offer. I don’t really have the time to oversee all of these operations—I have a lot on my hands. I propose we work together, fifty-fifty. You bring your nave and your crew and do the work, and I’ll give you more ships, connections, and protection.”
“I don’t get it...” the Octopus said, perplexed.
“What don’t you get? You’ll be running deliveries to the Bazaar, doing the same as now, but not as an employee but a full-fledged partner. Half of the profits will be yours. As for how much it will be, that’s your job.”
“I don’t understand why you’d give up such a money-maker,” the Octopus said, staring me in the eye. “This is good money...”
It was, yes. The daily profit margin was fifteen to twenty hundred gold per boat if you worked your ass off. You could easily make fifty grand a month, and way more if you added at least one high-capacity cargo ship. But I was already thinking on a bigger scale, my head full of grandiose schemes—and I was willing to share a part of my profits. Let the Octopus take on the routine work, and I would keep getting my rate by simply exploiting the scheme, my connections, and my options as the clan trader. On top of that, an outsider doing this job meant less risk of losi
ng everything if, say, the Pandas decided to attack us—and I was sure that they aimed at the most vulnerable spots. It would be better if I weren’t officially connected to the alliance’s logistics.
That’s what I told Borland, and he considered my words. It was a tempting offer, joining an already established scheme as a partner. He and his team had two more months in their contract, but this was a golden opportunity. I knew that he couldn’t resist it.
* * *
My next destination was the Bazaar. I sent Borland and his team to pick out new transport ships and rigging for them, which once again set me back three hundred fifty thousand gold. The lost barques hadn’t even made back their cost, and one day, Tao would answer for that. Debts had to be paid, in good or ill, in gold or steel.
After dealing with Keith, I went to the Mercenary Guild.
“So you need miners? More than 800 SP in Mining with Ellurite Mining unlocked?” the NPC manager asked after checking his folio, putting a large inkwell on top of the perfunctory gold coin. “We have a lot of them. Here, take a list.”
They really did have a lot of them, but lone pawns weren’t quite what I needed. I spent more than an hour on futile negotiations before stumbling into a grumpy dwarf with a braided black beard. A large banner depicting a mountain and a dwarf hitting it with a pickaxe was unfolded above his head. It had a motto written on it in large letters: “Level a mountain? No sweat! Jordi.” It seemed to fit the bill. I grinned and sat down at the table.
The dwarf’s name was Djarvi, and he was the representative of the Kel Jordas NPC faction, or rather a newly created branch of outcasts who were languishing without a job in the underground halls of the dwarven kingdom. They called themselves Jordi and were clearly in need of a large order. However, Djarvi was a tough cookie. We came to an agreement only after gulping down a succession of pint mugs full of strong porter.
An hour later, groups of brooding dwarves started embarking on the brand new cargo ships, each of them with duffel bags larger than their owners, handles of various tools sticking out of them. Hiring almost thirty high-level diggers and several alchemists capable of purifying and transmuting ellurite and purchasing the expensive mining equipment and supplies for the entire gang cost me almost two hundred thousand. Still, I hoped that the game was worth the candle.
So what was my plan? Simple—the cave with the Temple of Shadows in Helt Akor had a rich vein of ellurite. I suspected that it was somehow connected to the Ziggurate; there was a reason it was located there. Most likely, the Ancients had used the inexhaustible deposit of that material as a power source to create the Crystal of Negation.
Ellurite was a resource used in many aspects of crafting. It was processed into colloids and powders and transformed into crystals, and was required by almost all crafting professions. Enchantment, alchemy, making magic items, rituals... Most importantly, players bought a lot of ellurite. It was an energy source for elementals that powered flying ships and the protective domes of castles and outposts.
Deposits of ellurite were rare in Sphere. Its veins were usually encountered in the wilderness, and mining it was hard and dangerous. Not everyone was up to the task. Anomalous sites with ellurite were a prize find for high-level miners. All ellurite trade in Sphere was controlled by several alliances, the largest of which was the infamous NAVY.
I was uniquely positioned to mine infinite amounts of ellurite, which allowed me to join the fight for this market. Its daily sales turnover exceeded several million gold: a serious article, a serious demand, and serious money. I wasn’t afraid; actually, it felt nice, having a challenge for my head and my nerves.
* * *
The unidentified items from the Ziggurate were kept in my storage chest. Naturally, curiosity kept eating at me, and I kept wondering about the dead Ancient’s gear: an oddly-shaped wand with a blood-red gem, a well-worn mantle, a belt, and a curved dagger made of the red-green alloy used by the Ancients. After identifying the items with Green’s ring and Scrolls of Identification, I spent a while studying their stats.
Fancy names, unusual abilities... Two of them were epic and two blue. A rich haul, for sure, but they seemed to be mages-only. The wand was a weapon for a high-level wizard. It required 700 SP in Magic Wands skill and granted a weird boost to the level of spells cast. It was inlaid with a perfectly cut blood-red gem that allowed the user to summon and control an Ancient Spider. The mantle stored and regenerated mana; it doubled the wearer’s inborn talents and significantly increased Intelligence. The belt had five quick slots rather than the usual three and served as a small inventory space. All of these items were useless to me, as I didn’t wear cloth armor or use magic. The dagger, however...
I wistfully stroked the broad blade, curved like a hawk’s beak. The dagger would go to me.
Dead Principate’s Blade
Quality: epic. Material: ancient alloy, rikhar skin. Durability: 370/500.
Damage: 30–60 (piercing, slashing)
+100 SP to Daggers
+100 SP to Necromancy
+8 Dexterity
Silence: upon hit, applies Silence for 10 seconds.
Principate’s Victim: upon hit, temporarily steals a random attribute and transfers it to the wielder. Duration: 5 minutes. 1 use/30 minutes.
When I equipped the dagger in the left-hand slot, the system informed me that I needed the Ambidextrous skill. No big deal; I would buy it at the Bazaar or take it from the clan storage. It was a good weapon. If I left the Shadow Plane and used it to backstab an enemy, they wouldn’t even get the chance to scream. And the last affix was something special—not Aelmaris, not by a long shot, but in certain situations, using the flaming sword wasn’t the best idea. The only thing that bothered me was the bonus to Necromancy, but on the other hand...
My chest still held the scrolls once copied by Alex from Fokial’s book that we had obtained in the Tombs of Necromancers. All of them needed a certain value in Necromancy skill. I looked over the scrolls, refreshing my memory: Rigor Mortis, Pitch Darkness, Mass Blind...
Mass Blind needed just 50 points in Necromancy and applied a minute-long blinding debuff to a group of enemies, simple and useful. What was it Olaf had told me about keeping the elevator in Helt Akor confidential? Back in the day, guests used to be blindfolded so that they couldn’t see the way. The old tricks were the best.
* * *
“Who are they?” Komtur asked, dumbfounded at the sight of the motley crew of dwarven miners sitting on the ship’s tank. This time, we decided to use the clan’s new frigate to travel to the entrance, as it was faster and safer. Komtur wanted to test-drive it, too. So far, the ship was piloted by the veteran pilot Borland, but some of the Watchers were already leveling up the required skills, getting closer to him.
“The Jordi. They’re with me. Well, with us,” I corrected myself.
“To Helt Akor? What for?” Komtur asked, looking at me with the kind eyes of a blue-collar worker with a drinking problem.
“I want to mine ellurite in that cave,” I explained.
Komtur turned away and made a hopeless gesture: whatever; there’s no helping this one. Olaf, however, flared up, incensed.
“Cat, why haven’t you brought it up with anyone? This is a stupid idea. First, there isn’t much ellurite there. Second, how are you going to ship it from there? There are no trade caravans going through Helt Akor! Third, haven’t you forgotten that the Crossroads elevator is top secret? If they see us using it, the whole of Sphere will soon know!”
Right, Olaf hadn’t seen that sea of ellurite, I realized. He had no idea how much there was. Fine. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And really, I was the “key” to the Crossroads; without me, the raid couldn’t go far. I could dictate my terms, and they had to make do.
“There’s a way to keep the secret!” I dangled several scrolls from my collection in front of the analyst.
“Pitch Darkness, Mass Blind? Replicas of Fokial’s spells? Did you take them from clan storage?�
�
“Nope, these are mine. AlexOrder made copies,” I explained.
“Yes, I think I recall,” Olaf said, narrowing his eyes. “I agree; it might work. But why did you...”
Jeez, he was a real pain in my neck! We spent the entire trip arguing, and he only stopped his nagging when the ship approached Helt Akor. The three mountains of Irth-Garth loomed before us, and the Claw Tower appeared on the horizon between the snowy wedges. Something was going on there; the players rushed to the shipboard, pointing at something.
A sharp scarlet ray was beaming from the tower, extending high into the clouds. Above it, the mother of all storms was gathering, creating an enormous whirlwind. Swarms of winged predators flew in the sky, and streams of dark spots slowly crawled the white slopes. Booming thunder mixed with distant rumbling reached us.
I saw my clanmates exchange worried looks, Olaf whispering something in Komtur’s ear while the latter kept staring in that direction, his palm pressed against his forehead. Something weird was going on, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly.
Shadow Seer (Rogue Merchant Book #3): LitRPG Series Page 7
