Viridian Gate Online: Nomad Soul: A litRPG Adventure (The Illusionist Book 1)

by D. J. Bodden

  The remaining seventy percent of the people on the streets were city guard, legionaries, merchants, servants, and slaves. These wore a variety of clothes, equipment, and armor, though to my surprise the legionaries were most often unarmed. The slaves wore clothes that matched their... their owners, which was actually a pretty hard thought to wrap my head around. Anyway, they were essentially color coded to the citizen’s outfits, and their right arm was always bare, exposing the tattoos they all had on their inner wrist.

  As we moved uphill, the architecture and people became both more opulent and understated. Togas and stolas were less varied, often incorporating Imperial blue in some form, but they were made of silk. I saw money changing hands—several golds at a time. Buildings were decorated with life-sized statues and stone tablets recounting historical events that had taken place inside their walls, or famous people who’d lived there. They grew in size as well, going from an average of three stories in the lower quarter to seven-, eight-, or nine-story buildings. I saw one building that looked like it had been carved out of a single giant block of white marble.

  “How is that even possible?” I asked Titus, pointing at the building. There were no visible joins.

  “Stonewalls,” he answered.

  “I get that, but how did they find a block of marble that big to begin with?” That was beside the point that marble was ludicrously expensive. I did some quick math in my head, and just putting a thin layer of the cheapest marble slab on a seven-story building would have cost over a million dollars, or ten thousand golds.

  Titus shook his head. “Stonewalls are a type of Sorcerer. No one can afford to build like this, but if a noble family has a Stonewall or two in their lineage, odds are the building was grown by them, room by room, over the course of a decade or two. The only way to build faster would be to activate the Keep.”

  “The what?”

  We emerged from the upper-city proper onto the last rise in the Heights. It was a wide-open space filled with carefully maintained parks, hedge mazes, fountains, and gazebos. People strolled arm in arm or hand in hand, or sometimes gathered in what looked like fancy, improvised block parties catered by servants from the nearby inns, taverns, and bars. And in the center of it all, half a mile from where we stood, was a massive block of a palace that must have been four hundred yards to a side. “Holy crap. What’s that?”

  “That’s the Palace,” Titus said, and I could almost hear the capital P when he said it. “But that’s not the most impressive thing about it. It’s part of the Keep system, an ancient network of fortresses that surrounds Eldgard and what we now call West Viridia. They have a system of guardians and passive defenses—a kind of last stand for the people living there, if you will—but if someone was to get their hands on an artifact called a faction seal...” Titus paused for effect. “The possibilities are endless. Barracks, training grounds, additional walls and defensive structures, all built in an instant, as well as active control over the guardians.”

  I whistled. The Palace was impressive enough, but Titus made it sound that this faction seal thing would make the current palace the new palace’s redheaded stepchild. “So why hasn’t anyone found one and brought it here?”

  Titus shrugged. “They’ve tried. No one knows where they’re hidden. There are a few old manuscripts in Alaunhylles and scattered among the nations of Eldgard that show what they look like, but I’m not convinced they weren’t a story the locals made up to keep people like the Empire from invading them. It certainly didn’t stop our ancestors from taking New Viridia.”

  I nodded, following him across the tree-shaded paths and carefully manicured lawns. It sounded like a raid reward or a premium subscriber item to me, but I didn’t know where to begin explaining that to my not-so-ordinary tinker. I’d have to ask Jeff or Sandra when I logged out.

  It took about ten minutes for us to make our way to the paved area around the palace. There was no wall, though I could see a space where one might have been. The building itself was an elegant structure that looked like it had been built and added to over the course of several generations, with slightly different styles of structures between the different towers and wings. The walls were smoothly fitted stone, accented with marble panels and several banks of regularly spaced windows with statues, reliefs, or other detail work between them. It was almost garish, but stopped just short of it.

  The closer we came, the more overt the praetorian presence was. These were soldiers with heavy armor, sometimes custom pieces with family heraldry or intricate etching on them, and no two of them carried the exact same weapon. I itched to inspect the stats on their gear, but I was guessing that might get annoying for them and Titus if I stopped each and every time.

  For all that, they didn’t pay us that much attention. “Are these guys for real, or are they more of a ceremonial guard?” I asked Titus.

  “They’re real soldiers, but I understand why you’d ask. If it helps, we’d never get this close if they weren’t expecting us—or at least you wouldn’t, because I’ve snuck in once or twice.” He flashed me a shameless grin. “The second thing you should think of is that from the moment we entered the park and made our way directly to the palace instead of preening and drinking like the regular gentry, at least three siege crossbows were probably pointed at us at all times.”

  I swallowed. I’d been pretty relaxed about our little walk up until that point. Now, it was like I could feel the crossbow bolt digging into my back. “Thanks for that,” I told him.

  “You’re welcome, young man. I didn’t want you to be disappointed by the Praetorian Guard’s hospitality.”

  I WAS BLINDFOLDED FOR the next part. Well, bagged. They put a black bag over my head. It wasn’t as bad as you might think; the bag was clean and very lightly scented with lavender, and Titus was a careful guide, letting me know when we were going up or down stairs, stepping from carpet to stone, or before a turn. I couldn’t keep track of which way or how high or low we went, but I was pretty sure there were some extra steps and loops just to confuse the heck out of me, and it worked.

  Then they pulled off the bag, and I was standing in front of a solid oak door reinforced with thick metal bands. Two massive praetorians guarded it. They were both Imperial, but Risi sized, with well-polished but functional armor and short swords suited for fighting in narrow hallways.

  “Decimus,” the tinker said to the one on the left.

  “Master Emory,” the guard said with a slight bow. “He’s waiting for you.”

  “Splendid.” The fight seemed to have breathed new life into the old man. It wasn’t what I would have expected of him when I first walked into his shop.

  I followed Titus past the guards and into a small corner office. Weapons and armor lined the walls, along with an almost cluttered assortment of shelves, armoires, and chests. A man in his late fifties occupied the desk in the corner. He wore a knight’s tunic without the toga and appeared to be drafting a letter.

  “Stand here,” Titus said, pointing to the center of a bearskin rug. The bear must have been huge, and its fur was as white as snow but coarse, like a goat pelt.

  The man at the desk looked up, and I saw the resemblance to Provus right away. “I’m Gaius Considia. You must be Alan Campbell. Titus has told me everything he knows about you, which is very little. Where are you from?”

  He stared at me as if it was a toss-up whether he’d prefer me alive or dead, but dead would be easier. “I’m an Imperial,” I said.

  “I’m not blind, son. I asked where you were from.”

  I felt like it would be a very bad idea to lie to him, so I said, “From Empuriabrava.” It was close enough to true.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s far away.”

  “It’s far away, General,” Titus suggested.

  “It’s far away, General,” I echoed.

  The general put his quill down and stretched his hands. “You saved Provus?”

  “I tried to, Genera
l.”

  “Why?”

  I frowned. “Did I need a reason to do the right thing?”

  “Answer my questions with questions again, son, and I’ll have Decimus give you a reason not to.”

  “Yes, General,” I said. “I had a quest.”

  Gaius’s eyes flicked to Titus, who nodded slightly. “What kind of quest?”

  “It was called ‘Save the Scion,’ General. It said that I had seven minutes to save Provus’s life.”

  “Provus Considia?”

  I almost asked if that mattered, but instead, I said, “I think it said Provus Considia, General. I didn’t know who that was at the time.”

  “You do now?”

  “I do, General.”

  “So who is he?”

  I didn’t hesitate on the next bit. “He’s the nephew of the Griffin of New Viridia, General.”

  Titus flashed me a thumbs-up behind his back. I struggled to keep a straight face.

  There was a knock at the door. “It’s the tribune, General.”

  “Send him in.”

  I turned to see Provus enter the room. He was dressed in a polished steel breastplate with gold embellishments, segmented pauldrons, and matching steel-and-gold shin guards. He carried his helmet under his arm, but was otherwise unarmed. His eyes widened when he saw me, but he moved to stand behind me and clasped his hands behind his back. “You called for me, General?”

  “I did. Is this the man who rescued you?”

  Provus’s mouth rose into a friendly smirk. “He made a valiant attempt to, General.”

  “Seemed like that elf was keeping you on your toes, your lordship.”

  Provus raised an eyebrow at me, but the smile remained.

  I turned back to look at the general. I got nothing from his expression, though. His face might as well have been carved out of teak. He sighed. “Well, that’s that then. It appears House Considia owes you a debt of gratitude. Do you believe I also owe you such a debt?”

  I shrugged. “I thought maybe a thank you?”

  There was a half-second pause where I thought maybe I’d misread the general by the company he kept, and then Titus sniggered, and Provus cracked a smile.

  “I should have you all flogged,” Gaius said, scowling.

  “Oh, leave off it, Gaius. Tell the young man what he’s won.”

  Gaius walked over to a glass viewing case and opened it. He lifted a small black object from inside, then brought it to me. The way Provus held his breath, I guessed that the general giving people stuff, or even letting them within arm’s reach, was a rare thing. “Take it,” he said.

  I took the sheathed knife from his hands. He stood there a moment, as if testing me or fate, and then returned to the other side of his desk.

  The knife was similar, but not identical to the one I’d taken off the Dokkalfar assassin. For one, the handle was a paler shade of bone and intricately engraved, though when I gripped it, it felt smooth and perfectly fitted to my hand. “May I?” I asked, looking at Gaius.

  He nodded.

  I drew it and almost gasped at the folded pattern, like overlapping waves crashing into the single edge of the blade. It was beautiful, and there was a slight blur to that edge as if the knife wasn’t entirely there.

  <<<>>>

  Threadcutter

  Weapon Type: Piercing, Dagger

  Class: Ancient Artifact, One-handed

  Base Damage: Special

  Primary Effects:

  ● 50 pts Shadow Damage + 10 pts x Target Level

  ● On Critical or Backstab, ignores all Armor

  ● When sheathed, enemies will see character as unarmed

  ● Dexterity Bonus = .25 x Character Level

  Secondary Effects:

  ● +100% Renown Effects from Kills

  ● +23% Extra gold from Quest Rewards

  A crude weapon from a less civilized age.

  If it had only been a bit longer, it would have changed the world.

  <<<>>>

  The way I was reading it, based on my own stats, the dagger would eat through half someone’s Health per strike, not counting armor, items, and buffs, and it scaled with its target. The only problem was getting close enough to use it.

  I sheathed it. “Thank you, General.” I’m a sucker for unique weapons that blend function and art. I know it’s strange, considering my apparent aversion to fighting.

  “You’re welcome. Titus told me about the incident in front of his shop. A man aspiring to rank and citizenship should have a weapon. Provus will make sure you know how to use it.”

  “Begging your pardon, General,” I said, confused, “but when did Titus tell you? I’ve been with him the whole time.”

  “He messaged me on the way.”

  “He did?” Provus said.

  Titus turned his head and winked at us.

  “You’re dismissed, Nephew. Take Alan to the Legion’s master-at-arms. We can’t have him embarrassing himself with that fine a knife.”

  “No, Uncle, we can’t.” Provus brought his fist to his chest and his heels together before leaving. I tried to do the same and had the satisfaction of seeing Gaius smirk.

  “GODS, THEN,” GAIUS told Titus.

  “Seems so. They say enemies are the true measure of a man.”

  “Is that what they flatter you with in the brothels these days?”

  Titus grinned. “The working ladies and gentlemen of New Viridia are practical sorts, Gaius. They prefer to measure in inches, though we do far more talking than measuring these days.”

  “So you’re still active?”

  “In measuring?”

  “In talking. I need my old spymaster back.”

  “I might have kept a few channels open. Others I know by reputation only, and they’ll have to be dredged and reopened.”

  “Thank you, old friend.”

  Titus smirked. “I don’t think I’ve said yes, old friend.”

  Gaius snorted. “I heard you almost wet yourself with excitement when those idiots tried to kill you.”

  “You did? Are you still active?”

  “In talking? Of course I am. I have an army to run.”

  “I meant in measuring.”

  Gaius picked up his quill and got back to his reports. “I’m an old man and married to the State, spymaster. My measuring days are over.”

  “So you still love her,” Titus said.

  Gaius ignored him. The only sound Titus heard as he left was the scratching of the quill.

  SEVENTEEN

  I FOLLOWED PROVUS OUT of the palace, once he’d retrieved his sword from Decimus. No blindfold this time, but without external references I can’t say I would have found my way back unescorted. Threadcutter sat on my belt, against my lower back. I was almost giddy at having that awesome a weapon so early in the game.

  “You should get that dagger soulbound as soon as you can afford it,” Provus said.

  “What’s soulbinding?”

  Provus raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s something Enchanters do. It means the item can’t be sold or stolen until the owner is dead.”

  “Wouldn’t that encourage someone to stab me in order to get it?”

  “It would. But they wouldn’t be able to do it with your own dagger.”

  I swallowed, flashing back to the Murk Elf assassin. I bet someone like that would kill to have a weapon like this. “What about selling it?” I asked, half-joking.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Provus said. “That weapon represents the trust of the Griffin of New Viridia. He stood within arm’s reach while you had it in your hands. Even if you never use it, it’s priceless.”

  “Right. Don’t be stupid. Got it.” I still felt like owning it might make murdering me more attractive than I preferred, so I resolved not to advertise I had it no matter how much street cred it might earn me.

  We walked through the park and through the Heights. It was close to 10:00 AM, so most of the tradesmen and servants were gone, and only a few noble me
n and women still walked the streets. Those that passed us inclined their heads to Provus and said, “Tribune,” except for a few with a thick band flanked by red stripes on their tunics whom Provus saluted as “Senator.” I just kept my mouth shut and followed. I probably looked like his servant.

  When we’d passed the first wall, I asked him, “So how does all that work?”

  “How does what work?”

  “The military ranks, and the civilian ones too, I guess.”

  Provus stopped. “How do you not know these things? You’re Imperial.”

  I shrugged. “I’m a poor bumpkin from outside the city?” It was mostly true.

  Provus grunted and started walking again. “All residents of the city are subject to the census, which happens every five years. People are taxed and given privileges and duties according to their property.”

  “What does ten gold get me?” I asked.

  “Nothing. You’re a free man, subject to and protected by the law. That dagger would put you over the limit, but I suggest you keep it hidden.”

  That seemed like a really good plan. “What’s the limit, then?”

  “If you have fifteen gold during the next census, in two years, you’ll be drafted into the army as a skirmisher.”

  “I’ll be what? How is that a good thing?”

  “You get to be a citizen. Duties first, privileges later. Even free men may be called to fight in times of war. Only senators are exempt from service.”

  “And how much are they worth?” I asked.

  “Upwards of three thousand, four hundred golds.”

  “For a family, or each person?”

  “Each.”

  I whistled. That was a 340,000 dollar net worth, give or take, from what I could tell. “So the poor fight and the rich live in the Heights?” That sounded catchy. Maybe I’d try to stage a protest to it someday.

  “It’s a fair system,” Provus said with the ring of faith in his voice. “The poor are taxed less, with the poorest provided a ration of grain a day by the State. The rich do what they do best, which is to gather wealth, which then funds other things, and if they fail to maintain that wealth they’ll be demoted during the next census. It ensures only the strongest, most successful families are given the chance to lead the Empire.”