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

by D. J. Bodden

“Um... Thanks?” she said. She looked like she was considering shutting the door.

  “My boots are in there,” I said.

  “Oh. I thought they might be yours. I don’t quite...”

  “We didn’t.”

  “We didn’t?”

  “You didn’t?” said Sandra.

  “No,” I said.

  Thalia swallowed. Her eyes were dilated. She was probably still a little drunk. I saw five different emotions flash across her face, from relief to anger, and figured it was about time I left.

  “I’ll just grab my boots and go,” I said.

  She stepped back and let me in. I equipped my boots instead of putting them on, then offered her the roll again.

  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  I smiled, but I felt sad about it. I’d tried to do the right thing. Maybe I should have just left when she fell asleep and never mentioned it. “Goodbye, Thalia.”

  She seemed to shrink in on herself a little.

  I sighed and headed for the stairs.

  “Hey, Alan?” she said.

  I turned around and saw her standing in the doorway. The morning light coming from the window almost gave her a halo. “Yeah?”

  “Did you want to?”

  “I did.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’ve had a rough couple of days. A friend of mine died, and his... his family and I don’t exactly get along, but I had to deal with them anyway because of my friend. I need a day or two to sort this out. I knew him from the last war, and I owe him. But once that’s done, we could try to have that talk again.”

  “Sober?” I asked. I know it was a dick move, but I owed Bad Alan and Worse Alan a night of guiltless debauchery.

  She nodded. “I think that’d be best.”

  “I’d like that,” I said, offering her a smile.

  She returned it.

  I saw I had a message and a notification pending on my quest journal. I got going while the going was good.

  “WELL, THAT WAS UPLIFTING,” Sandra said.

  I chuckled. “Was it? I thought that was pretty normal.”

  “I meant your standards in women. Means I won’t have to try as hard.”

  I raised an eyebrow even though she couldn’t see me. “So I get an A+?”

  “You passed. It didn’t make for thrilling footage.”

  “Uh-huh. Footage. But back to the part where you’re going to try, assuming I’m interested.”

  “You’re interested. How about lunch?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Coffee,” she said. “Dinner if you hold up to the real light of day.”

  “Acceptable,” I said, moving through the common room toward the exit. “Think that will become a thing?”

  “What?”

  “Reviewing someone’s past dates in order to make the call, like an audition.”

  “Yeesh, I hope not,” Sandra said, and we both laughed. She had a good laugh. Genuine. I could see myself laughing with her a lot. In all seriousness, though, there were some privacy issues we needed to address before V.G.O. went gold.

  I stepped outside and took in the morning air. The streets were mostly deserted, which was a little surprising, and there was a faint smell of smoke in the air.

  “Anything unusual going on with the game?” I asked Sandra.

  “I don’t think so? Like I said, your physicals are fine. Looks like all the Overminds were active while you slept.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m not a software engineer, Alan, but there have been spikes and average increases on all of their graphs since you logged in.”

  I scratched my stubbly chin. Jeff hadn’t mentioned anything about that. I guess I was flattered. The city felt wrong, though.

  Ever go out late at night or early in the morning, and there’s no one in the streets, not even a hobo or a stray cat, and thought the world was ending? It kind of felt like that.

  Then I remembered I had a quest update to read. If the world was ending, better it ended after I leveled up.

  <<<>>>

  Quest Update: Smoke and Mirrors

  You successfully got someone to do something they wouldn’t normally do. In return, as your reward, you have received 2000 XP. This brings you one step closer to new skills and a new character class.

  Quest Class: Rare, Class-Based

  Quest Difficulty: Hard

  Success 1: Swindled a Swindler

  Success 2: Second Date with a One-Night Stand

  Success 3: ???????

  Failure: Fail to complete any of the objectives.

  Reward: Class Change; 4,000 EXP

  <<<>>>

  Level Up!

  You have (5) undistributed stat points! Stat points can be allocated at any time.

  You have (1) unassigned proficiency point! Proficiency points can be allocated at any time.

  <<<>>>

  “Nice!” I said out loud to the empty street. 2,000 XP not only brought me to level four, I was only a few more points from level five. I put 3 points in Spirit—the Attribute—bringing me up to 200 Spirit—the Derived Statistic. Basically, I could use a Suggestion at the same time as Charm, now. I also put 2 points into Vitality because I wasn’t so much a glass cannon as just plain glass, raising my Health to 160 points.

  I also noticed I had a message pending.

  <<<>>>

  Personal Message:

  Alan,

  Are you okay? Things have been so crazy with all that happened last night, and you disappeared. Horace and I were worried.

  Let us know how you’re doing,

  —June

  <<<>>>

  Not just me imagining things, then. I was drafting a quick response letting her know I was okay and that I’d stop by when I saw Provus marching toward me with a bundle of clothes under one arm and two spears in his right hand. His face was “We need to discuss your prostate scan results” level of serious. I amended my message. All okay on my end, hope you two are as well. I’ll stop by later, if I can.

  “Alan! Good thing I caught you. We have a job.”

  “We do?”

  “No, I was talking to hear myself speak,” Provus said with a strained grin. He looked like he hadn’t slept. “Put these on,” he said, handing me a fresh white tunic with patterns embroidered on the left sleeve, a thick white cloak, and a pair of leather gloves. “We’re going hunting.”

  “SO WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED last night?” I asked Provus.

  “Ah, bliss.”

  “Ignorance?”

  “Yes, I was referring to your ignorance,” he said with a grin.

  “Cute.”

  “It started yesterday. A Firebrand attacked the South Quarter precinct.”

  I didn’t know what a Firebrand was, but after the ignorance comment, I wasn’t about to let on. “What’s special about that, other than run-of-the-mill terrorism?”

  “City watchmen died. That’s generally frowned upon, even for the Thieves’ Union, so it led to reprisals. You know what reprisals are?”

  Smug asshole. “Tit for tat.”

  “Ten tits for every tat. How did you not notice all this?”

  “You handed me over to the prefect all day, remember? Then I went drinking with Halius. Why weren’t the legionaries at the Lion’s Tail called back? Shouldn’t they have protected the city?”

  “That’s a great way to turn unrest into a civil war.”

  I’d studied the 1992 Los Angeles riots in college. Crazy stuff. “Good point,” I said.

  He gave me a mocking little bow, and I blushed. I had a hard time remembering that, while younger than me, Provus had been trusted with more responsibility for years. Ironic, when I expected Rob to treat me like a peer, I know.

  “More important to you,” he said, “do you know a Wode by the name of Erik Stormson?”

  “I know Erik. I cleaned myself up in his apartment.”

  “He’s dead.”

  Damn. I mean, I didn’t really know the guy, and he’d
been kind of a dick, but it sucked that he was dead. “The Firebrand?”

  “Yes. We picked him up in connection with the assassination attempt. His accomplices were probably trying to keep him from talking.”

  “Erik didn’t know anything,” I said. Then the pieces clicked together in my head. “But you knew that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Gaius armed me.”

  “The general—”

  “Your uncle put a weapon into my hand and stood two feet away.”

  “You’re hardly a threat.”

  Fair point, I thought, but I wasn’t done. “You brought me to the Legion camp, I was surrounded by armed men all day and drunk legionaries all night. I was protected. Erik wasn’t the target, I was.” And this whole conversation had been a test to see if I was involved. I had a few great suggestions about where he could stick his suspicions and cleverness.

  “They could have been after me. I’d left the precinct less than an hour before.”

  “They didn’t hit the barracks. They thought he was me. Was the precinct part of the trap?”

  “No. He was being released, and men were in position to follow. We didn’t expect someone to come inside to get him.”

  I whistled. “You fucked up pretty bad, then.”

  “I did,” Provus said, his face coloring.

  “What am I doing here, Provus? Am I the bait, this time?”

  “We’ve done all we could to keep you safe, Alan. There are men who’ve killed to keep the company you do now.”

  Fair point again. I tried to get him to tell me more, but he’d closed up like a clam. Considering I’d been a penniless, homeless beggar two days ago, I decided maybe now was my time to shut up and pay attention.

  The spear he’d handed me was six feet long, with an inch-and-a-half-thick ash wood shaft and a leaf blade a foot long by itself. A cross guard, or “wings,” jutted from the neck of the spear, presumably to stop whatever I stabbed from impaling itself further and eating my face. I wasn’t looking forward to meeting whatever this thing had been designed to kill.

  When we reached the main thoroughfare, I started to see more people, though it was a third or maybe half the amount of the previous day and almost exclusively Imperials. People spoke louder than they usually did, gestured wider, and grinned with a barely suppressed watchfulness. I saw several merchants boarding up broken windows or scrubbing paint off the walls.

  I was wearing the white tunic of a citizen. No pants—it was basically an above-the-knee skirt—which was both liberating and incredibly uncomfortable at the same time. The pattern on my right sleeve marked me as a member of House Considia, which I had to remind myself was more of a political affiliation than a bloodline. I was also wearing the thick white cloak thrown back like a cape, gloves tucked into my belt. People moved out of our way and looked at us with a curious mixture of fear and hope.

  “Why am I dressed like I citizen?” I asked Provus.

  “It’s symbolic. You’re the common man who rose to the defense of the Empire.”

  “Is it symbolic for the day, or symbolic for life?”

  “A day is more than most people get, Alan. More than that would take a unanimous vote of the Senate, and they never agree on anything. The census is in two years—you can earn your place like everyone else.” He looked like a Disney prince, saying it. I wanted to sign up to be drafted by the Legion and fight for the Empire right away.

  He was really good at that. Duty, honor, and family turned him all dark and heroic. He was the rich scion of a powerful man, had crazy daddy issues, was trained in war, and fought assassins in the back alleys of the city. I grinned. “Do you have a butler named Alfred, by any chance?” I asked him.

  “I’ve been in the army since I was fourteen,” Provus said, frowning.

  “A steward, then?”

  He scowled. “No.”

  I shrugged. Always worth checking a game for Easter eggs.

  Provus led me to the southern gate and we joined the flow of people leaving the city. Once past the walls, we left the road for a dirt trail between the pines to a small staging area where the rest of the hunting party was gathering.

  Holy shit. This was actually happening. Remember that urn I saw in the marketplace, the one with the naked dudes hunting on lizard-back? Pretty much like that, only more clothing.

  We joined a group of similarly clad men and women, close to fifty in all. I got Charm going; it couldn’t hurt to have the armed people surrounding me like me a little more.

  The other members of our group were mostly servants and squires. The servants carried cudgels and wore brown tunics under their cloaks. The rest wore white and held spears like mine. There were also off-duty praetorians like Provus, though like him their only distinctions were the stripes on their tunics and the red trim around their cloaks.

  A Dokkalfar in brown leathers and a green cloak stood to the side, carrying a wicked looking compound bow. His skin was like gray suede, his pupils carnelian red. Two servants stood with him, each holding four hounds on short leather leashes. The three men seemed to be the most experienced members of the group. The dogs were excited and strained against the straps, but instead of barks or whines, they sounded like one of those office paper cutters with the long blades. I think their vocal chords had been snipped.

  “Who’s that?” I asked Provus.

  “The Imperial Warden.”

  “He’s not Imperial.”

  “He’s a great forest warden, though. Murk Elves can hunt.”

  I walked over to the dog handlers and said, “May I?”

  “Knock yourself out,” the man said.

  I crouched, setting the spear down in front of me, and put my hand out. At first the dogs just kind of looked at me—I guess they weren’t socialized—then one of them, the runt of the pack, came and sniffed my hand. When I was mostly sure he wouldn’t bite me, I gave him a scratch behind the ears.

  The silent hounds went nuts. In seconds, four of them mobbed me, pawing, wriggling, wagging, and licking my face. They had thick, wiry coats and kept nudging each other out of the way to get scratched or petted next, almost knocking me over. No barks or whines, but still happy to be alive and be loved on. I laughed out loud. Provus frowned, but the handler looked pleased, and screw it, if you don’t like dogs you need to pull the spare spear shaft out of your ass.

  On the other side of the clearing were the “mounts,” and I’m using finger quotes, here. Two dozen Komodo dragons were staked to the ground with guy ropes strung through their enormous collars. I know you’re expecting me to tell you they had expandable frills, spider eyes, or even spines down their backs—no matter how impractical that would be for the riders—but these were just big angry black lizards. They were four feet across at the chest and fifteen feet long from snout to tail. And the sound! They sounded like a befouled gas station toilet being flushed, and sometimes they hissed like leaking steam pipes. They’d been fed—there was fresh blood on all their snouts—but they still took the occasional snap at their handlers, hissing and burbling. Their handlers reacted by clubbing them in the face with their spear butts. It was the touching hate-hate relationship of a boy and his Komodo.

  I wanted to ride one so bad. I gave the runt one last scratch and stood, recovering my spear and my decorum before walking back to Provus’s side.

  Gathered under a large pavilion, separate from either group, were the actual men and women of rank—the heads of families and houses. Merchants, knights, and senators mingled freely. Each carried their choice of bow, javelin, or sling.

  “Is it safe to have so many members of New Viridia’s leadership in one place?” I asked.

  “There are cordons of legionaries spread throughout the woods. If we get into serious trouble, my uncle will call for help, but I doubt we’ll face anything we can’t handle,” Provus said.

  To the Empire’s credit, most of its nobility looked like they were meant to bear arms, and the merchants looked downright lethal. Bows we
re strung with practiced ease, quivers checked for straight shafts before being slung across backs or hung from hips. Buckles clinked, leather creaked, and backs were slapped. Preparations were spiced with jokes and childish enthusiasm. I flashed back to my day training with the Legion and saw the shadow of younger men and women hidden behind gray hair, wrinkles, and belly fat. Several, like Gaius Considia, were still in active service and wore breastplates, though the Griffin’s was polished gold to their silver.

  A few of the dignitaries with double stripes looked less comfortable. Bowstrings shook when drawn, as if for the first time. And there I was, the target of a terror group, ready to step in front of amateur hunters. It made my shoulder blades itch.

  The foreigners stood to the side. They were more richly dressed than any foreigners I’d seen in the city, but they carried no weapons and looked varying degrees of pissed off or bored.

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  “Ambassadors, military attachés, and a visiting Ankaran prince.”

  “Which one’s the prince?”

  That earned me a look. “The one with the wings.”

  The gentry started splitting up and heading for their mounts. Gaius detached himself from the crowd and headed toward us.

  “Try to remember he’s the most powerful man in the Empire,” Provus said, handing his spear off to another knight.

  “Afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

  He smirked. “Not intentionally.”

  I offered him my spear, but he said, “Keep it. Put it in your left hand.”

  Ah, yes. Symbolism. I set the butt of the spear by my left foot and wrapped my arm around it, palm facing back, point to the sky. It looked like something a ceremonial guard would do, and it would be almost impossible to use it effectively without giving the general ample time to do something about it.

  The crowd parted and moved away as Gaius approached, leaving Provus and me a small island of white opposite a crescent of surprised onlookers.

  “Alan.”

  “General.”

  “Uncle.”

  “Nephew,” Gaius said, shaking first Provus’s hand, then mine. “Citizen for a day, then. How does it feel?”

  “It’s an honor, General,” I said loudly, sticking my chest out.