Shadow Seer (Rogue Merchant Book #3): LitRPG Series

by Roman Prokofiev

  “You forgot to pay, Gravekeeper!” the “innkeeper” hissed.

  “Really?” Rocky nodded at the gold coin I had left on the counter and nudged me toward the exit.

  “Pick up the pace,” I heard as we went down the stairs. “These guys are a vengeful lot. They might gather a crowd against you.”

  We walked down the maze of giant stalactites, almost running through that strange underground town. The Gravekeeper’s leather-clad back hovered in front of me. He was very fast, although his movements seemed a bit unnatural—it seemed that one of his legs couldn’t bend. The smell of ditch water drew nearer. We passed nets hanging on sharp stalactites and suddenly found ourselves next to an inlet with a makeshift berth. On top of several long boats, it boasted the weirdest ship I had ever seen.

  It was neither a flying astral vessel nor a common sailing ship. It had no masts or sails at all. Round like a barrel, with iron-plated studded broadsides, it resembled a huge armored turtle. A three-bladed water propeller stuck out from its back, bringing to mind ancient submarines from Leonardo Da Vinci’s etchings. The deck was empty, except for a lone NPC standing watch by the gangplank. He looked like an ogre, only slimmer and underfed, like a teenager. His name, however, was imposing—Stormbreaker.

  “Rocky, come in, we were waiting for you!” he growled, aiming something akin to a hand cannon on a platform at me.

  “Who’s this with you? Stop before I make a second hole in your arse!”

  “This dude’s been looking for a ship sailing into the Hole,” the Gravekeeper said. “I thought that the captain wouldn’t mind taking on another passenger. Lots of space in the hold.”

  “The captain’s out!” Stormbreaker snarled. “Stranger, introduce yourself so that I could add you to my enemy list!”

  “What’s going on?”

  Another character stepped out on deck, reeling a little. It was a broad-shouldered zwerg with a thick snow-white beard split into three braids and tied with gold rings. He was a player called Thrainul; apparently, he owned the strange vessel. He came up to me, the sour stench of booze on his breath, and peered into my eyes from under his bushy eyebrows.

  “Russian, huh?” he mumbled hesitantly upon noticing Cyrillic letters in my nickname and clan tag. “Hey, mate, where did you come from? Only Asians farm here.”

  “Fell from the moon,” I joked. “I need to get to Dagorrath. Can you help me? I can pay.”

  “Captain, he looks like a spy from Hird!” Stormbreaker chimed in, glaring at me angrily. “I bet they sent him!”

  I automatically opened my kill rating, looking for this Thrainul. This was an old character with a lot of combat experience. He used to be a member of the aforementioned Hird but left them six months before, founding his own clan. Red and green entries told me a story about bad blood between them, huge battles for some castles against his former allies, and repeated reskills of Thrainul and his new clanmates by Hird. It seemed personal, a vendetta of some kind—the series of conflicts was too long and persistent.

  “I have nothing to do with Hird,” I said, shrugging. “Actually, my clan recently took them down in Helt Akor.”

  I formed a battle report about the Watchers’ latest scuffle and sent it to Thrainul. Even if I was anonymous, nobody could suspect my clan of allying with Hird.

  “I know the Watchers. Olaf the Prophet,” Thrainul said, suddenly chuckling. “Ha, Sphere’s a small world, too!

  “Fine, come in. So you want to go to the Hole? Keep in mind, the ticket there will cost—”

  “Captain, we should make haste,” the Gravekeeper interrupted him. “There were players bothering him. I had to get involved. They might gang up on us.”

  “I’m so tired of these guys,” Thrainul mumbled and finished his phrase. “A thousand gold!”

  A thousand! It was a hefty sum, but I didn’t have a choice. Negotiations were out of the question, it seemed. I nodded, accepting the contract, and the advance payment of five hundred gold was deposited into the account of the squinting captain.

  “Well then, no need to wait anymore! Let’s set sail! Storm, wake Gobbler. Get those clay morons up and start working!” Thrainul started giving out orders. He glanced at me once again and beckoned.

  “You—come with me. We need to hide you.”

  We went down the rattling iron ladder into the cargo hold, where numerous steel pipes kept vaporing away. I noticed a large mage reactor and a furnace with a fire elemental with a pile of ellurite bars next to it. The submarine was clearly an artifact vessel based on the same principles as astral ships. But who had built it?

  The cargo hold was packed with some boxes of dusty bottles and weird containers made of shining metal, but most of all, square lockers that reminded me of coffins. They were stacked up, and I counted at least twenty of them. Thrainul pulled out a bottle, deftly uncorked it, and took a swig, swallowing at least a third of its content in one gulp. With a gesture, he offered some to me, but I shrugged, indicating that I didn’t drink.

  “Too bad. It’s great wine. In the Hole, they pay thirty a bottle for it—nothing grows there but mushrooms, anyway!” The captain chuckled and walked along the lines of coffins, carefully knocking them off. He was mumbling something under his breath in the vein of, “No, not this one,” “Dammit, there was an empty one on top,” and “Where the fuck is it?” Was he going to hide me in one of these lockers? Any seeker would notice a signal in no time

  Finally stopping by one of the boxes, Thrainul opened the lock on its side and threw back the lid. Inside, it was lined with something like a mattress with a small pillow—definitely a coffin. A thought occurred to me: so who was in the other lockers? Other passengers? And why were some of them wrapped in chains with huge hanging locks?

  “Climb up, don’ be scared,” the captain told me with a wink. “First-class ride, max comfort.”

  “A seeker would notice a signal. Maybe—”

  “Listen, this is no party boat! There are no cabins, and all hammocks are occupied by the crew! Either you get inside or get out and go your own way!”

  Huh, the captain was a temperamental one. I shrugged and climbed inside the box. As soon as I stretched out on the hard mattress, a message appeared.

  Activate Rest?

  Ah, so those coffins were mobile rest units—basically, sleeping accommodations that allowed players to leave the game without a penalty, logging out immediately. Most likely, they were used there like cabin beds or hammocks on astral ships and ordinary boats—to move with the vessel even while offline. Thrainul’s reasoning made sense; I could log out and return several hours later when the ship was far away.

  “Log out before the Asians return!” he ordered. “And put your fingers away. Return in two or three hours, and we’ll already be onsite!”

  The lid swung shut, isolating me from the rest of the world, and the lock clicked. Fortunately, I didn’t have claustrophobia.

  As I left the game, I didn’t hear the engines start rumbling and the wailing of the propeller; didn’t see the metallic plates move, screeching, and create a solid hemisphere above the deck as the submarine slowly left the berth and submerged itself into the motionless black water. Several seconds later, it disappeared in the depths, leaving only ripples and a stream of bubbles rising up from below.

  * * *

  Alas, I was unable to return in two or three hours, as my sojourn in real life extended to a whopping six. Alena, happy with the gap in my schedule, dragged me out to buy groceries. Personally, I didn’t see the point of shopping when you could get everything online with almost instant delivery, but my wife was adamant. A supermarket meant a mall, a cafe, a skating rink, a new blockbuster in the virtual cinema... Going there and back again was impossible.

  Still, it helped me unwind and relax, although a countdown clock kept ticking somewhere inside of me, telling me that I had promised to log in two hours before. However, I didn’t think it might pose any problems.

  As we walked along the glow
ing storefronts and lazily sipped on coffee in the restaurant, I noticed the many changes that had happened in my lifetime, such as the menus offered in Russian and Japanese, hieroglyphics on many brand logos, and Japanese dub for movies. The Confederation had been created before my birth, almost thirty years previously, but many things became a fixture of our everyday lives only recently. The number of Japanese people and half-bloods, short and black-haired, kept growing—I had read that they comprised almost a third of the Confederation’s population of five hundred million.

  It didn’t really bother me, but sometimes, such as when I heard a girl with funny braids thank the customer at a checkout in Japanese, I felt that this country bore very little resemblance to the one my parents had grown up in.

  That evening, we returned home, happy and content, and as a real gaming addict, I immediately climbed into the capsule, launching Sphere. So had Thrainul’s ship already reached Dagorrath, which they lovingly called the Hole?

  * * *

  Darkness. I woke up in complete darkness, still inside the coffin. I tried pushing the lid, but it was locked. The captain hadn’t told me how to get out. When I focused, I sensed a slight swaying and heard the sound of splashing water and soft voices nearby. I was in the cargo hold—it was hard to mistake paddle strokes and the oarsmen’s cursing for anything else. We were definitely in open water. As I strained my ears, I managed to make out voices and words.

  “...left. The jar’s there.”

  “...they’re standing there, waiting.”

  “Hey!” I said loudly, accompanying my words with a knock on the lid. I sucked in more air and yelled at the top of my lungs, “Hey!”

  There was no answer, but I felt a soft bump—the vessel had clearly hit the shore—followed by the vibration from the oarsmen jumping off. Water splashed. Someone’s feet stomped just above me. Then a loud shout cut through the air, and I recognized Thrainul’s voice.

  “Whatcha gawking at? I brought you fresh meat!”

  Interlude: The Event

  Location: Weeping Devil, PROJECT HELL Castle

  “HOW ABOUT YOU EXPLAIN what’s going on?”

  Tao and the leaders of PROJECT’s static groups had once again gathered at the large war table. Brass figures of toy soldiers marched across its painted surface.

  “A continental event. The conquest of Dorsa!” Tao said. “The House of Darkness challenges the rest of the world.”

  “Ananizarte sent out a quest message to the surrounding factions, including the player clans living in the wildlands,” Mirgus said, nodding. “There’s no mistaking its contents: anyone who rejects the proposal will be destroyed. And—”

  “This is bullshit!” Svoy interrupted him, snorting. “NPCs going to war against players?”

  “Bullshit or not, have you seen the rewards?” Tentacle came up to the table and perched on the edge, casually adjusting her black bangs.

  “Yeah, faction rewards are amazing,” Mirgus said, coughing. “But they have to be earned. To do that, we’ll need to fight other players! Have you heard the news? Last night, Diamant’s dragon brood destroyed the dome of Chaos’ castle and forced them to go into invincible mode!”

  “They didn’t agree to the offer?”

  “Yes, the only one of six clans with holdings in the northeast of Dorsa to do that. The Heretics are still thinking, but their response is predictable.”

  “Jeez. When does their invincibility run out?” Svoy asked, all business-like.

  “In twelve...I mean, seven hours.”

  “Chaosites won’t let their castle be destroyed. They’ll assemble a raid, bring in their allies,” Peacemaker said. “But it’s really a load of crap. Do you know that this reminds me of?”

  “I know. Taerland!” Mirgus said, nodding curtly. “That’s how it all started. But back then, the NPCs declared vendetta on all players in general, and here, we’ll get a global faction war. The House of Darkness decided to bring the entire continent to heel. Ahelmar’s hordes, nine out of ten, are deployed to Khorkha. Ergial’s ships, packed with warriors, are headed to the Long Sea. The rest of the Lady’s vassals are abnormally active! The troops are marching to the Tower, and the First and the Flaming Hordes are ready for battle!”

  “Mirgus, what’s your prognosis? Can the House of Darkness conquer Dorsa?” Tao was carefully examining the disposition of toy troops across the map of Dorsa.

  “Funnily, they can. They’re capable of that. I can’t give an accurate assessment, but the House of Darkness has at least one hundred thousand NPCs with combat experience and required professions and archetypes. Still, this is just cannon fodder. The leaders of the House—gods, demigods, a dozen characters of divine origin—are the real threat. Each of them is worth an army. I can’t even imagine who can take them on. The only hope is the Balance!”

  “I wouldn’t count on the Balance,” Tao said quietly. “It might be that this event is the Balance’s answer to the actions against Ananizarte. Her paradigm shifted after her ‘disappearance’ and the battle in the Astral Plane, remember?”

  “This Balance of yours is weird! The Pandas hurt her, and we’ll have to answer for this?”

  “The procedural AI works in mysterious ways; it’s hard to figure out its logic,” Tao replied. “But if we can’t see it, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.”

  “I’m not sure that the House of Darkness is the strongest side,” Peacemaker grumbled. “Well, they’re the kings in our lands, I give you that. Cardeval will be theirs. But what next?”

  He stared at the map, frowning, and pointed at the southeast of the continent studded with icons of clan castles.

  “The Golden Fairs. Phoenix and their lapdogs. That’s a tall order! If things start getting real, they’ll mobilize thousands of players and call in their allies like the Northerners.”

  “The Golden Fairs are the key to everything,” Mirgus agreed, putting a circle of brass shield-bearers around the aforementioned city. “The center of the continent, a trading hub. The Reds won’t submit to Ananizarte.”

  “They won’t, but alone, they have no hope of winning,” Tao said, flashing his teeth. “As for Northerners...those carebears will have their hands full with other problems soon.”

  “So it’s war,” Tentacle concluded.

  “Yes. Tell everyone to log in at six. We’re going to attack Chaos’ castle. Gorgons, Goethia, maybe Heretics, and Diamant’s brood are with us. Chaosites will have two hundred people or so, I guess.”

  “We’ll storm their castle? That’s a bold entrance, boss! Isn’t this too dangerous?” Tentacle asked. “Maybe we should think a little? What if it’s going to be like with Eyre and the Pandas?”

  “It’s not over yet with Eyre; the quest is still active,” Tao replied, donning his mask of cold inscrutability. “And our strategy is simple. Either we join the strongest side and kill the weak, or we’ll get killed ourselves. Is this clear?”

  Chapter 8

  “I BROUGHT YOU fresh meat!”

  I didn’t like that phrase, and I liked the nasty laughter that followed even less. I pushed against the coffin lid with my hands and feet, doing my best to force it open. The soulless system informed me, This action requires 50 Strength. Your current Strength is 19.

  In the meantime, somebody lifted my coffin, heavily tilting it, and carried it off somewhere while cursing. A blow against a solid surface informed me that my journey was over, and the porters’ footsteps grew distant—apparently, they went to fetch another locker. Not far from me, Thrainul was excitedly speaking with a person who had a shrill, high-pitched voice. Going by the fragments of their conversation, they were negotiating.

  “...teen. Violent ones!”

  “...promised three hundred and fifty, you rotten piece of meat!”

  “...twenty, no more than that.”

  This situation was starting to annoy me. Had Thrainul decided to double his profits by first taking my money and then selling me to God only knew whom? Never! Seething w
ith anger, I started tossing and turning, barely managing to find Aelmaris’ grip. My savior flashed blue, illuminating the area inside the coffin. It was so cramped that I was scared of burning myself. Carefully, I pressed the sword to the lid of the locker, destroying its durability, and burst out of the charred boards.

  Strange bandaged figures staggered back from the circle of bright light emanated by Aelmaris, covering their eyes with their hands. The glow outlined the shore, black water, and a round-bellied barge moored to a long berth and packed full of “coffins.” Fifteen or so “mummies”—I didn’t have a better name for the creatures almost completely wrapped in dirty bandages—were unloading boxes from the boat, passing them between each other. As the blue glow of Aelmaris fell upon them, they started moving, and I saw that several of them were wielding catching nets and long jagged fishing hooks.