Quieton perked up. “I’s sure we can do that! And then we might build them houses too. One can’t have too many skills.”
He was quick on the uptake, wasn’t he?
* * *
So many other things demanded our immediate attention.
Food deliveries, stocking up on weapons, finding more craftsmen... my to-do list was so long it made my head spin.
Lethmiel had already dispatched messengers to the neighboring villages with orders to urgently relocate to the castle.
While there was even the slightest threat of a Reapers’ invasion, I couldn’t leave the peasants unprotected. They might need to become townspeople and learn how to restore castle walls, build houses and master new crafts.
I ported to the castle’s inner yard and walked through the gate toward Dimian’s new shop. It was on the right just within the second ring of the city walls, next to the recently restored wizards’ tower: a tall spired building occupied by Iskandar and Rodrigo.
A clashing of swords and the thumping of arrows hitting targets was coming from the training grounds to my left, just next to the barracks.
Earlier, White had repeatedly warned me by saying, “Whatever you do, don’t trust NPCs”.
I knew what he meant. Still, I tended to differ. Without NPCs, life in the castle would have ground to a halt. Besides, many of the more complex toons had already become my friends. I saw no reason to demonize them, let alone banish them from the castle.
Thus thinking, I walked into the shop.
“We need bows and arrows!” Arwan’s indignant voice demanded inside. “Proper ones! Not these lame imitations! You understand?”
“Yeah but... where do you want me to get them?”
“Are you a merchant or just a pretty face?” the Elf continued to vent his indignation. “I can buy better gear anywhere in Agrion!”
“Okay, okay! Keep your hair on! You’d better tell me who I can get them from. Alexatis told me to only buy the best of everything.”
“Yeah right! The best thing you can do is send a caravan to our forest craftsmen.”
“You mean, Elven craftsmen? How am I supposed to find them? You said the forests were dying everywhere! There’s a map over there on the table, show me! Just point! I can work out how to get there myself.”
Well done, Dimian. The guy definitely knew what he was doing.
“Hello, Arwan,” I stepped into the room. “What’s all this about?”
“We don’t have proper weapons!”
I could see that Arwan felt out of his comfort zone. He’d accepted a certain informal responsibility for the Elven refugees he’d brought here from the dying forests — but he didn’t have enough experience to either control them or provide for their needs.
“Found a place for everyone?” I asked him.
Arwan nodded. “In the tent camp. Many of us can’t get used to it. The druids are complaining about the absence of shrines and relics. Hunters can’t feed their families as they can’t eat monsters’ meat and that’s the only game available here. They left in a hurry with only the clothes on their backs. Most of them don’t even have a decent bow.”
“Can’t you make them?”
“We can’t find suitable materials. Local plants are mainly hollow-limbed. Also, it’s not easy to make a good long-range bow! You need to treat the wood first, dry it, then treat it again and again. It’s the same with arrows. You don’t think, do you, that they’re made of ordinary twigs? You aren’t going to send me to the hazelnut grove over the wall, are you? That’s what some people told me I should do,” Arwan added with a nervous smirk.
Honestly, I had no idea what kind of wood they needed to make bows and arrows with. What I did know was that the game devs were bound to have made provision for such an occasion. This was an elaborate virtual reality, after all.
I switched over to the market interface. Unlike NPCs, players had many more options there.
I started by habitually checking the auction, knowing that you could find all sorts there. I ran a quick search until I found some affordable bows.
On second thoughts, I ran another search, this time for wood suitable for making bows and arrows. It would cost less while providing the Elven craftsmen with the practice they so desperately needed. They might even teach their skill to others.
I paid five gold from my account. A large bundle of wood materialized in my bag. It was surprisingly big and heavy.
“How about this?” I placed it on the counter.
To Arwan and Dimian, this must have looked like nothing short of magic. They froze open-mouthed, then began studying my purchase.
“This is perfect!” Arwan announced.
The bundle contained two roughly planed blanks for the bows as well as a hundred thin straight shafts for making arrows. The fact that it had neither bowstrings, fletches nor arrowheads didn’t seem to baffle Arwan. Judging by his sincere joy, he loved the materials.
“We have the oil for treating the wood. Hydra tendons will make perfect bowstrings. Our blacksmiths will forge the arrowheads. And there’re plenty of birds around whose feathers we can use for fletching.”
“How many experienced archers do you think you can muster?” I asked.
“Our hunters will defend the castle gladly, especially if it becomes the seat of an Elven shrine,” Arwan replied. “In case of an attack, I can guarantee a hundred and fifty archers to defend these walls,” he added, studying the materials with delight.
“Who’s in charge of the Elven camp now?”
“No one. Any disputes are brought before the Council of three druids. Apart from that, it’s every man for himself.”
“I’m putting you in charge of all the Elves.”
“Sorry, Alexatis. You can’t appoint an Elven leader, let alone a warlord. He’s chosen from the best warriors who must compete for the post.”
“Do you really think you won’t win it? Especially now that your kinsmen are in mortal danger?”
Arwan paused, undecided. “I don’t know, really. It never happened before. Not that I remember, anyway.”
“Never mind. I’ll talk to the druids. Can you tell me who built the Elven shrines?”
“What do you mean, who? The Elves did!”
“Do you have builders?”
“No, we don’t! You see, all the stone buildings were erected by our ancestors during the Era of the Founder Gods. And today’s shrines are grown, not built. They take decades to grow, centuries even.”
Oh. That was a bit of a disappointment.
The clan quest icon blinked in my interface. A new system message popped up,
New Clan Quest Alert: The Spirit of the Woods
Quest type: Unique
Find a way to build a new Elven shrine in Rion Castle.
Any clan member can join you on this quest.
Deadline: 10 days
Reward: Your Relationship with the Forest Elves will improve. You will receive 150 archers at your disposal.
Penalty for failing or declining the quest:
Your Relationship with the Forest Elves will deteriorate until they leave Rion Castle.
I accepted the quest even though I had no idea how to go about it. I might discuss it with Enea later that night. She might think of something.
“Dimian, can I have the keys to the warehouse?” I asked.
“Here you are. Why?”
“You’ll soon see. Arwan, stay here for a moment.”
I walked into the large half-empty room and shut the door behind me. Then I reopened the market interface and bought a hundred more bundles of wood suitable for making bows and arrows. Removing them from my inventory and stacking them up on the shelves was some work, I tell you!
After about ten minutes, I called Arwan and Dimian.
“This is witchcraft!” the latter announced, staring at the shelves groaning from the weight of the goods.
I didn’t want to disappoint him. “We have new arrivals every day. I’d like you
to find out what they need. If you don’t find the necessary goods in Agrion, feel free to send caravans to other cities as long as you have your warehouse stacked with everything we might possibly require. Do you understand me?”
Dimian scratched the back of his head. “You bet I do.”
“Get on with it, then. Forget everything else for the time being. This is a priority. Forget profits: what’s truly important now is regular supplies. Arwan,” I turned to the Elf, “сan you give Dimian an example of the arrowheads you need? We’ll buy them in the Azure Mountains. The bows you can make yourselves now. You have plenty of materials. And one more personal task specially for you,” I added. “I want you to ask around to see if any of the local peasant craftsmen would like to learn your bow-making skill. You could employ them as apprentices.”
“Sorry, Alexatis. I’m afraid it’s not gonna work.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think other Elves will appreciate it if I start revealing ancient Elven secrets to the local peasants. They won’t approve of it. Please allow us to do everything ourselves.”
“Very well. On one condition. I’d like you to give every fifth bow you make to the clan’s arsenal.”
“That’s not a problem,” he agreed without disputing it.
A noise from the street invaded the little open window. Apparently, the first boatfuls of villagers had begun to arrive.
They all had to be housed, fed and assigned suitable jobs. I could feel I wasn’t going to make it on my own. Too many petty mundane tasks to sort out.
“Lethmiel!” I shouted.
He seemed to have expected my call. A portal appeared in a spiral of light, disgorging my Blood Elf majordomo.
“I’d like you to take care of the camp,” I told him. “Think you can do it?”
“We have plenty of food and tents,” Lethmiel replied. “Can you take a look at the plans, please? I’ve drafted them for you just in case,” he offered me a sheet of parchment.
He definitely knew what he was doing! On the plan, Lethmiel had housed different races apart from each other, and separated blocks of tents with wide streets. At the center, he drew a large round tent and an awning. Judging by the inscriptions, that’s where he planned to set up a second temporary inn and a small marketplace. In the future it might expand, becoming a proper market square.
“Yes to everything,” I sealed the parchment with my magic seal. “Get on with it. Report to me in the evening.”
* * *
I found both Enea and White in the Practice Hall.
“Keep blocking!” her father’s voice was followed by a heavy thump. “Excellent. Step back! Watch me when I attack. That’s right. Now kick the bottom edge of my shield! Good! You see? Where’s your level and where’s mine? — and still I lost my balance and opened up for a second! You should be in control. Always ready to attack but don’t push your luck! Good. Let’s do it again. Block! Veeeery good! Step back, kick the shield, attack!”
“I can’t breathe,” Enea gasped, heaving. “I’m not a warrior, anyway. Why do you want to train me? My magic works well, doesn’t it?”
“The Reapers are multiclass,” White snapped back. “You should be as good as they are. In everything!”
“But I’m just not strong enough!”
“You will be, in a moment,” he said, removing a rather plain ring from his finger. “Put this on. It’ll improve some of your stats.”
“Okay...”
“Now let’s do it again. How long does it take you to cast Lightning?”
“Two seconds.”
“In that case, you need to combine your skills!”
He lunged unexpectedly at her. Enea blocked it, dodged another attack, then whipped back and kicked the lower edge of his shield hard as he’d just taught her, forcing White to both stagger and disrupt his attack while winning herself the two seconds necessary to cast Lightning. It flashed through the room, branching and forking. The charge knocked White off his feet, stripping him of a few Life points.
“Excellent!” he motioned to her, signaling the end of the fight, then scrambled to his feet, wincing and rubbing the shoulder hit by lightning. “You need to remember: the past is over. Our present lies here in the Crystal Sphere which is now chock full of defective mobs!”
I watched them, unwilling to interfere. Alpha — who was now the clan’s mascot — had made himself comfortable on the Cargonite Golem’s shoulder, twitching his legs as he watched the fight. He was desperate to join in but Enea had forbidden him to attack them.
White saw me. “Hi, Alex. You’re big on sleep, aren’t you?”
“I wish! I was too busy doing all sorts of things,” I shook his hand, then gave a kiss to Enea still panting from the combat.
“We need jewelry,” White got down to business. “Loads.”
“What kind of jewelry?” I realized of course that he meant special items. I’d already noticed last night that he was hung with chains and rings like a Christmas tree. They were all stat-boosting items improving a characteristic or adding a new skill.
“We need stuff which boosts Strength, Agility, Stamina and Intellect. Ideally, we want rare custom-made items boosting several stats at once. Any chance of farming something like that here?”
“What, on the Moors? I don’t think so. Still, I know a place which might be interesting.”
“You think you could tell me about it?”
“I might. How about tonight?”
White didn’t insist. “Okay. What are you going to do about the clan’s combat section? At the moment, their leveling is too slow. Anyone below level 100 has no business getting in the Reapers’ way.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We should find some locations with mobs levels 70+. That’ll allow us to power-level the combat wing non-stop. From my experience, you can make four or five levels a day. But let me warn you that not all warriors will be able to sustain such a rush. We’ll have to drop a few people.”
“You don’t want me to kick them out, do you?”
“Of course not. They’ll have to be transferred to a non-combatant role. Only the strongest and sturdiest can stay in the combat section. This is a prerequisite. The only people who can fight Reapers are those who can get themselves killed, respawn and step back into the ranks!”
If the truth were known, I wasn’t comfortable with what he’d just said. After what had happened in Agrion, our future seemed bleak.
“Very well,” I said. “I understand. Now Enea and I need to go and see the Ravens, and in the evening we can talk. We can meet up at our place and discuss all the possible places and leveling scenarios. Just please don’t interfere with Archie, okay?”
I liked him now, I had to admit. These days, White was much less stuck up than he used to be. I could sense some sort of unbending inner backbone in him now.
“Alex, there’s no way I’m going to usurp posts of power. But I do want to take part in the clan’s life. One thing you need to understand is that wherever Reapers appear, the game balance flies out the window. They’re good at both magic and weapons. I’d lost many good friends before I learned to stand up to them.”
Alpha fluttered onto Enea’s shoulder.
“Is it really so bad?” she asked. “Are we supposed to barricade ourselves inside the castle?”
“No. Shutting ourselves up in here isn’t even an option. The Reapers are here to stay. They won’t go. They force the very world to change.”
“So what do we do?”
“We stick together. We bring other players under our banners. We level up fast, so that whenever we meet a Reaper, we tear him apart and hammer him into the ground, both literally and figuratively. Hybrids have no respawn. There’s no provision for it. Once they’re dead, they’re dead for good. The neurograms comprising their identities will simply disintegrate. That’s their only weak spot.”
“In that case, why haven’t they been killed, all of them?” Enea demanded.
 
; “Because humans aren’t organized,” White replied. “The majority only care about their own safety. The stronger clans were destroyed first. The safest way to survive is by making small groups of five to seven people, like my own. Also, few people realize the true scale of the disaster. The Crystal Sphere is enormous. It has billions of players. How many of them have died, unable to survive in full immersion and thus giving rise to more Reapers?”
His question hung in the air, unanswered.
“So you’re going to see the Ravens, are you?” he changed the subject. “Are you hoping to come to some agreement with them?”
“I can try,” I said. “As far as I know, there were about two hundred players in that raid. All of them were frozen at the same time as our cluster. They probably don’t even realize that several years have elapsed. Under any other circumstances, I might have left them well alone. Once they’d gotten the taste of what it was like here, they might have realized they couldn’t cross the Moors and would have turned back. But as it is, I can’t do that.”
“Good,” White said. “Talk to them. If we don’t interfere, a lot of them might die for real.”
“Would you like to come with us?”
“No, I wouldn’t. With my level, it might actually harm the talks. You might appear to be trying to put pressure on them. Also it might weaken your position as clan leader. Still, I could give you some advice if you don’t mind.”
Enea tactfully wondered off, leaving us alone.
I listened to what he had to say. Then I nodded, “Thanks. If the talks hit a brick wall, I’ll do as you say.”
* * *
The Crystal Sphere
The Edge of the Toxic Moors
The Ravens raid had set up camp on an island not far from Chaffinch Creek.
They’d chosen this particular spot for a reason. The island’s gently sloping banks were studded with rows of sharpened stakes pointing outward in the direction of the water. These were the remains of the ancient fortifications, an echo of long gone days when every bit of land in the area had been occupied by the coalition that had declared war on the Order of Disciples.
The Reapers (The Neuro 3) Page 5