Dukes and Ladders: A LitRPG/Gamelit Adventure (The Good Guys Book 5)

by Eric Ugland

  By the time the light crept over the mountains and my followers began to move about, I had an inkling of a plan, and desire to make things happen.

  Back on ground level, I grabbed a bowl of porridge and ate it in front of the fire, thinking thoughts of the Castrum, the fortified Roman military camps.

  Nikolai came and sat down on one side of me, with Lee dropping in on the other side close behind.

  “Gents,” I said.

  “You have a plan?” Nikolai asked. “We need to make real progress today.”

  “I have a plan,” I replied. “And I apologize for taking so long — it is more because I am not, uh, smart. Or wasn’t. I just needed to study some history and then—”

  “Our history?” Lee asked.

  “Not America. Rome.”

  Lee looked confused, but just for a moment, then he smiled. “Castrum?”

  “Yeah, exactly! You know about them?”

  “Some of the basics. I was always intrigued with the Romans. Stories of their roads, aqueducts, arches, it all fascinated me. Their fortresses, not quite as much.”

  “Care to let me in on this?” Nikolai asked, looking from me to Lee and back.

  I pulled the paperback from my pocket and passed it over to Lee. Then I turned to face Nikolai.

  “There were these cats named the Romans,” I started.

  “Cat people?” Nikolai asked.

  “Just humans,” Lee said, flipping through the book. “He’s trying to be colorful.”

  “Just use regular language, Montana,” Nikolai said through a frown. “You will only trip yourself up.”

  “Fine, there were people called the Romans, and they were known for, well, conquering most of our world. They had a legion, likely something similar to your legions here. Every night, after the Legion would march, they would set up a fort of sorts. And if they had to spend more time somewhere, they’d just replace some of the stuff they did in the temporary forts with more permanent stuff. That’s what we’re going to do. Build up a camp, then start replacing things as we can.”

  “Where did you get the book?” Nikolai asked. “And is it about these Romans?”

  “I had a visit from Mister Paul.”

  “Ah, your god.”

  “One of them at least.”

  “Explain to me this camp before I read about it myself.”

  “Can you read this?” Lee asked, offering Nikolai the book.

  Nikolai squinted, then turned his head.

  “No. I suppose I need more of an explanation then.”

  “You want to take this?” I asked Lee.

  “Time for you to lead,” Lee said with a smile, “Duke Coggeshall.”

  I nodded, and I ate a big bite of porridge.

  “We start by changing how we are thinking,” I said. “So far we’ve acted like we are townspeople or—”

  “I have not done that—” Nikolai interrupted.

  “You know how irritated you get when I interrupt you?” I asked.

  He gave a slight smile. “Apologies, my lord.”

  “I want to get this talked out before the rest of our little group emerges from that smelly long house. We need to stop thinking like we are a village. We aren’t. We’re a military outpost. We need to start functioning more like an army. In that regard, this ‘town’ needs to be more like a fort, and we’re going to start building that today. If the Romans can build a camp fort in less than a day, we can too.”

  “Uh,” Lee said, a finger up, “you realize the Romans you’re speaking of were a Legion of nearly 5,000 men who’ve all been trained on how to work together to do this.”

  “Yes, well, that wasn’t something I was considering and I should have. So it might take us a little longer, but we’ve got magic as well.”

  “As long as you’re aware.”

  “I am. Sort of. But that’s also why you’re here — to catch my idiocy.”

  “How lucky.”

  “Do you have specifics?”

  “I do,” I said, and I started to sketch in the dirt with my spoon. I probably should have finished eating first, but, well, the porridge was almost thin enough to drink.

  The mountain face would form our southern wall, with the tunnel coming in and forming what would have been the via principale, or the main road. Our longest sides would be our North and South walls, meaning we’d have less to construct. And to dig. We would start by digging out ditches, three to eight feet deep, throwing the dirt inward. Then we’d make ramparts with the dirt, and use logs to face the dirt and make walls. Outside of the wall, we would clear everything, even using the cattle, horses, and other grass eaters, to trim the grass down as best we could. Because of how heavily wooded our little slice of Vuldranni happened to be, we’d get the wood for our wall at the same time we cleared our land.

  The industrial elements would be placed on the north wall while the housing would go against the south, against the mountain. That way, there would be the most space between the non-combatants and anyone trying to get to us. The military would use all the space to the east of the main road, the smaller portion of the rectangle. And we’d have towers on the corners, and large gatehouses on the four gates. Plus, once we got going, a keep somewhere inside.

  “Not exactly a Roman fort,” I said, looking down at the drawing, “but I think it takes what we need and makes something of it. As far as trades go, I want a sawmill of some kind up and running first.”

  “I fear I must disagree,” Nikolai said. “We have more stone than we know what to do with.”

  “Lee?” I asked.

  Not bothering to look up from the Roman book, he nodded. “Nik’s right — plenty of stone right now. But a sawmill would be key to getting all the elements we need for inside. And I’d rather have the industrial stuff, as you called it, the workshops and whatnot, up against the eastern wall. Nearer the river. I’ve got an idea.”

  “Okay, well,” I said, “we have plenty to do today. I will start on the wall and the ditch. Nikolai, you grab, uh, what’s his name—” I snapped my fingers, trying to remember names, but it eluded me.

  “Who?” Lee asked.

  “The mason?”

  “The woch,” Lee said. “Conall.”

  “Take him—” I started.

  “Learn your people,” Nikolai snapped. “They must matter to you if you are to matter to them.”

  “I will work on socializing.”

  “Good. What am I to instruct Conall on?”

  “Whomever he’s been working with, get them to finish that wall and gate around the tunnel through the mountain. We need to sit and talk tactics for what might be coming down on us.”

  “Your god gave you a heads up?” Lee asked.

  “He did.”

  “What is it?”

  “Too much to go into right now. Just, you know, let’s get walls and ditches and some safety. Lee, you take our carpenter—”

  “Guy Gambrill,” Lee offered.

  “Sure, you get Guy and whomever he needs to get a workshop up and running.”

  “A workshop for him or a sawmill?”

  “Yes. Both. If you can, today. Everyone else who lacks a job or isn’t busy, send them to me. Time to dig ditches, bitches.”

  Lee just shook his head, and Nikolai muttered as he walked away.

  “What?” I shouted while scooping a heaping spoonful of porridge into my mouth. It tasted gritty.

  Chapter Eight

  While I was busy spitting out the rocks I’d foolishly eaten by using my drawing spoon, the kindly old battenti came up and looked at the sketches by my feet.

  “These look like plans,” he said.

  “They are.”

  “For this place?” he asked.

  I nodded, spitting a pebble out.

  “You want them laid out on the ground?”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Got a few abilities that might help with this.”

  “That would be huge.”

  “Glad to
be of help, my lord,” he said, a big grin on his little face.

  I walked to the tree line, barely twenty feet from our current solitary domicile, pulled out an axe, and leaned it against my leg. I got some dirt on my hands, then spit in them and rubbed them together.

  “Seems a rather disgusting habit,” came a distinguished voice behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder at the perfectly put together Lady Eliza Northwoods. She had a cerulean silk gown on that did quite a bit to accentuate the color of her eyes, and presented her, uh, shape, impressively.

  “You look nice this morning,” I said before I could help myself.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said with a curtsy. “It is quite difficult to maintain one’s appearance when out in the wild, but I feel it is quite important.”

  “A job well done then,” I said.

  “What is it you are doing today, my lord?”

  “Clearing the land,” I said. “And digging a ditch.”

  “Not exactly befitting nobility,” she replied.

  “Does that mean you won’t be joining us?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you expecting that of me?”

  “Well, if you’re a part of the community, and you’re not part of the tower team or the sawmill team, and you’re not guarding, you’re probably supposed to be digging.”

  “Her ladyship will not be joining you in that—” Eliza’s armored lady-in-waiting began in that most haughty of tones.

  Eliza held up a hand as a sly smile spread across her face.

  “No, Melissa,” Eliza said, “I think I shall. Duke Coggeshall is quite correct. We are here as part of the community, and we expect to reap the benefits of their work. So we should also labor.”

  “I would be happy to take your place, my lady,” Melissa said, squaring her shoulders with me as if she wanted to race to see who could cut down trees or rip up bushes the fastest.

  “You will work too,” Eliza said. “We all will. Though I fear I might not have the appropriate attire for the occasion. If you will permit me to change, Lord Coggeshall?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  She curtsied, then walked back to her tent.

  I picked up the big axe and gave it a few test swings. It felt so good to swing into that first tree. I gave it a big meaty thump, and the axe bit deep. A second hit, and I knocked out a huge wedge. A strong shove, and the tree crashed down.

  Next.

  I was on the third tree when I realized I was neglecting something.

  My pendant. The prinkies. They were supposed to be helping me out. And if my math was correct, I could afford more than a few of them. Five mana per? That meant I could field a hundred. A hundred plus, technically.

  Probably wasn’t the best idea to summon them all at once. Especially since I had no idea what I was summoning. They could be tentacled horrors that oozed weird, um, oozes. Or gibbering beasts full of saliva and wrath.

  I held up the amulet and looked it over. The carving was, as far as I could tell, a series of balls of fur overlapping each other. I looked at the amulet for a few moments, doing my best to figure out the command to summon the prinky. My experience with magic items so far led me to believe that most items were actually simpler than anyone expected. Hell, the bag of holding I had would empty itself with the command ‘empty.’

  “I summon thee, prinky!” I shouted.

  There was a pop, and a small creature appeared in front of me. It looked around, confused for a moment, then sighted on me and looked up.

  All told, the thing was about the size of a football. It had a very large head with outsized ears, somewhere between bat-shaped and dog-shaped, with one corner folded down for cute measure. Its eyes were, almost cartoonish in size and shape. Small nose, small mouth with rounded teeth, not sharp fangs. Short fur covered everything, and it stood on two legs while holding its small hands in front of it. Oh, and it was red. Bright red. Vermillion even.

  “Holy shit you’re cute,” I said.

  It tilted its head to the side, and blinked.

  “Oh fuck,” Tarryn’s voice called out from behind me. “Have you been infected with prinkies?”

  “You know what these things are?” I asked. “And what do you mean infected?”

  Tarryn marched over, staring at the little red dude the whole way, and then knelt in front of the creature.

  The creature looked over at him, eyes wide and innocent, then looked back at me.

  “I do know these creatures,” he said, peering around the prinky. “Where did you find this?”

  “I have an amulet.””

  “Oh bother.”

  “What?”

  “Forgive me for assuming you know nothing about them—“

  “Correct assumption.”

  “They are abominations.”

  “Seems harsh.”

  “They were created quite some time ago by a vile Mancer who hated other magic users. He was not as advanced as some of his peers, and so he created a creature which lived off the mana of its owner. They were cute and they were helpful, and they seemed innocuous until you realized you had several of them working for you, and you had no mana left for any difficult spells.”

  “Oh. I mean, that’s all?”

  “Mana is the life blood of a Mancer. How do you expect—“

  “Dude, what the fuck do I need mana for?”

  He looked at me, confused.

  “Besides, it doesn’t seem like they take all that much.”

  “Oh? From what I know, it depends heavily on the manner in which they were summoned. They are quite rare. I have only read of them in a few places before, but all magic users are warned of their dangers, being that they are so—“

  “Cute and useful? I don’t see how that thing would, you know—“

  It made a chirping sort of noise and looked at me, and I had to steel my heart against the beast. It was really fricking cute.

  “You are the owner of this?” Tarryn asked.

  “I am, I guess.”

  “Then I suppose there is little harm in it.”

  “It’s only five mana.”

  “What?”

  “Five mana. That’s all he needs to survive.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s according to the amulet, and looking at my own mana, I’m just down five from my total.”

  Tarryn’s entire demeanor changed. He reached a hand out and ran it over the creature’s fur. The thing closed its eyes and purred as Tarryn pet it.

  “I have never felt something quite so soft,” Tarryn said, almost reverently. “Perhaps it would be okay for me to have one — just one — as a companion or a familiar.”

  “Tarryn, get to work already.”

  “What do you mean work?”

  “Digging.”

  “Me?”

  “What is your job?”

  “Nathalie, in her position as head of security, has tasked me with staying in sight of you and making sure you are safe.”

  “I don’t need protection.”

  “And yet here I am, following duly given orders.”

  “Fine. Leave the thing alone, and give me some space.”

  Tarryn stood up, hands held high, and walked back.

  “About the prinky,” he said.

  “You can’t have one. I’m putting them to work.”

  “As you wish,” Tarryn replied, but I had the distinct impression the conversation regarding the prinky was far from over.

  The prinky in question was still watching me. Waiting for me to talk to it or do something. It chirped again.

  “Ah, right,” I said, kneeling down so I was a little closer to eye level with him. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

  The thing nodded vigorously and smiled at me.

  “And you can understand what I’m saying?”

  Nodding.

  “Or are you just nodding at everything I say because you’re happy I’m talking to you?”

  Head tilt, eyes looking aroun
d, then back at me, head shake.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  It pointed to me.

  “I’m Montana. You?”

  It pointed to me again, a little more emphatic.

  “Going on a limb here, but am I supposed to name you?”

  “I would refrain from doing that,” Tarryn called out.

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because I believe that is what makes them more difficult to un-summon.”

  The prinky shot a dark look towards Tarryn, then was back to being cute with me.

  “Okay, well, let’s just wait on a name, shall we?” I said to the little creature. “We’re clearing all the vegetation and rocks and stuff between this building here, and, well, a long way out that, like, to the river, say.”

  Prinky the first, or Prinky Prime as I was thinking of it, nodded.

  “Uh, so, yeah, pile stuff back, uh,” I looked behind me, and saw Tarryn lounging in the grass in the shade of a tree near the longhouse, “right where that guy is laying.”

  Prime nodded, and immediately grabbed at a shrub near him. There was some grunting and groaning, but eventually, the little shrub came free from the earth, and the prinky hoisted it up, a giant smile on its cute little face, and marched it over in the direction of Tarryn.

  I looked at my character sheet, examining both my mana and how fast it had regenerated.

  The regeneration didn’t matter, I was just five mana down.

  I summoned another prinky.

  Pop. Just as cute, but a little different, both in color and shape. It looked up at me, waiting.

  “Uh, do what that one’s doing,” I said, pointing over at Prime.

  Prime chirped something as it threw the shrub at Tarryn, who shrieked in surprise as dirt and bush hit him in the face. I know that I’ve always been surprised when a dirty bush has hit me in the face, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never screamed quite as shrilly.

  Prinky Two grabbed at a bush.

  A moment later, Prime came over and joined with Two. They got the bush out faster, and worked together to walk it over towards Tarryn, who was muttering while wiping his face and robes off.

  The creatures had a funny way of walking. Well, a cute way. It was kind of like a toddler, toddling around. But they worked together very well, and I started to wonder if they could coordinate in large numbers.