Clan Dominance - the Sleepless Ones 2

by Dem Mikhailov

  “Hey! Rosgard!”

  I turned around, staring at the elf that had called me, and raised my eyebrows.

  “You’re standing right in front of my stall. Customers can’t see me.”

  “Oh! Sorry... Northy. I just got lost in thought for a moment,” I replied, stepping aside in haste.

  I called the elf Northy, but the full name as displayed above his pointy-eared head read Northy Firetail. I hadn’t noticed any tail, anyway, and the player was at Level 46 — more than twice mine. He could have been leveling up in more serious locations, but he appeared to have been interested in making money rather than leveling up.

  “Are you interested in crystals? You shouldn’t be doing anything in Sinkhole Caverns without them. Although it’s a little too early for you,” Northy replied, benignly and somewhat patronizingly. “Unless you’re part of a good team — in that case you, could explore the first level a bit. But it’s so crowded there that you’d be lucky to find a surviving mob.”

  “No, I haven’t planned on going yet,” I replied politely, nodded, and was about to be on my way when Northy shrugged, hollered to the crowd again, and, having made sure there weren’t any customers about to visit him just yet, said in a low voice,

  “Rosgard, are you interested in making a quick buck? As well as leveling up a bit? There’s an opportunity.”

  “Who wouldn’t?” I said, stopping. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “Well, I have a business proposal,” the archer smiled widely, adding instantly, “Don’t worry. I don’t rip people off. I could just use you as a mule. Oh, damn! No offense, I just meant...”

  “None taken,” I interrupted the elf. “I know what you mean.”

  There was really nothing to get offended about. Mules, or beasts of burden, were characters specializing as porters. A character could only carry so much, and there was no such thing as too much loot, which was why players who mostly hunted mobs and collected loot for sale often hired poorer players, giving them a certain percentage of the loot and leveling them up free of charge. That was a good enough option for low-level players — you just ran along with a partner and stuffed the loot into your pack. There were actual beasts of burden as well as carts of all sorts available, but mule players came cheaper both in terms of price and in terms of losses in case a porter perished. Mules could also be taken to where most animals would be too big or too afraid.

  “Right on, then,” Northy nodded. “Once I sell off this stuff, I’m heading back for the caverns. I could make you part of my group. I can’t offer much in terms of XP since the level difference is too high, but you’ll definitely be able to make some money. If you finish off a few mobs, you’ll get some XP, too. So, what do you say?”

  “Sorry, mate,” I shook my head regretfully. “No can do.”

  “Suit yourself,” the elf shrugged indifferently, and, having lost interest in our conversation, got back to his trade. “Crystals with return runes! From any level of the Caverns to the entrance! Buying craft arrows and glowballs! Will hire a mule for a few hours for part of the loot!”

  Damn. The offer was very tempting indeed — I would get experience as well as some money. Also, dungeon monsters often dropped good equipment, so I could probably pick up some gear. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to join parties with other players. Apart from that, I’d have to get to the local trader first and grill him on the subject of the armor that had been fished out of the river.

  I sighed and went on my way, casting one last wistful glance at the enterprising archer.

  The shop I’d needed was easy to find — just a few dozen paces away from the marketplace. It was a squat building with doors open wide and the inevitable bouncer with a massive mace on his belt at the door.

  I entered into the chilly twilight inside, stepped toward the shopkeeper at the counter, and greeted him cordially, looking all nonchalant, even though my heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, about to smash right through my ribcage.

  A thickset man with a short gray beard nodded in return, and invited me to examine the wares on his counter and on his walls with the customary “take-your-pick” gesture.

  “I’m not looking to buy anything,” I nodded. “Would you be the most esteemed shopkeeper Kumowan?”

  “Him and none other,” said the man unhurriedly. “Are you here with a message, then?”

  “You could say so,” I agreed. “A message from Jogley the fisherman who pointed me your way. Many years ago you bought a few silver items off him. A bracelet, a belt, and something else. You came upon them by chance, and now their real owner has tasked me with locating them. Take a look at this.”

  Without giving the shopkeeper an opportunity to say a word, I rolled back the shirtsleeve and showed him the silver bracelet. Before he could come to his senses, I continued,

  “So, where are all the other items?”

  I wasn’t afraid that Kumowan wouldn’t answer — I’d been given a quest, and was following an old trail, fulfilling every condition, in search of the rest of the silver legend. Any of the locals who’d had anything to do with the quest were obliged to answer. And one could always find another way — kill the shopkeeper, take the key off his body, and find old records in one of his chests mentioning the sale of the items in question and the name of the buyer, for example. Alternatively, I could steal the records from his house late at night, or, perhaps, eavesdrop on some important conversation.

  There was a different approach, though — namely, getting into the shopkeeper’s good graces, complete a couple of his tasks, and thus earn his trust and receive the necessary answers.

  Waldyra was a very versatile game that allowed any class to play out its designated role — from a sneaky thief to a rowdy barbarian. However, I didn’t have enough time, so I’d decided to approach the subject directly. The information was hardly of any interest or use to the shopkeeper, clearly one of the less important NPCs involved.

  “I sold them,” Kumowan admitted reluctantly, spreading his arms wide. “As soon as I got my hands on them; the very same day. I’m a trader, so I don’t hang on to things, my good man. Buy cheap, sell dear. That’s what we do.”

  “And who was the buyer?” I said in an emotionless voice, trying not to make my disappointment show.

  “Oh, but why, Lord Cedry himself,” the trader answered with unexpected relief. “A wealthy landowner. His manor is right next to our village. It’s his village, in fact. So, Lord Cedry is very fond of different rarities and curios. A true collector. I’ve sold everything to him. The manor is to the west of the village, right on the bank of the Elyrne. One might say you got lucky, traveler. On the other hand, it’s hardly a good kind of luck.”

  “Why is that?” I asked, recording the necessary information.

  Damn... The thread leading me to the set of armor seemed endless — and ready to break anytime.

  “Since once Lord Cedry gets hold of some rare item, he never sells it to anyone. I’ve told you. He collects that stuff. So he won’t give you anything. He’s a good man, but he’s got a temper on him. And you won’t be able to get through, anyway. The fence around the manor is tall, and there are lots of guards all over the place.”

  “I get it,” I sighed, making a note in the built-in notepad widget saying “Cedry, the rich collector.” “Well, my good Kumowan, I am most grateful to you. May your business prosper.”

  “Thank you, my good man,” the trader smiled, and, having lost all interest in me, switched to the player who’d just entered the shop.

  The trader has fulfilled his role, and I was another step closer to... Well, not the armor per se, perhaps, but the next chain in the link was something already. So, Cedry, a wealthy landowner...

  I got out of the shop and gazed at the peaceful cerulean sky splattered with the odd occasional cloud of purest white, and headed straight for the local stables, no longer paying attention to the hawkers’ cries. It was the middle of the day. I could still get a lot of things do
ne before nightfall.

  I stopped as soon as I’d taken about a dozen steps. Having scrutinized the empty place where the suspicious player selling gear had stood just a while earlier, I turned around at once, heading toward the inn that stood near the north side of the square.

  I was beginning to get careless.

  There were throngs of players around the village, including PKs, all of whom were hungry for loot and entertainment.

  I would therefore leave the legendary bracelet and most of my stuff in my personal room, and Sist could keep on having fun in his stable. I would go to this Lord Cedry on foot and unencumbered, especially given that the collector’s manor lay to the west of the village — next to the road leading to the Sinkhole Caverns. And there was a lot of traffic on the way.

  I left the village in less than half an hour, and I wasn’t on my own — I’d paused at the edge of the village purposefully to wait for yet another group of players setting off in search of adventure. I didn’t join them, but simply followed, carefully observing the twenty-pace distance.

  I’d managed to chat to the guards, receiving a standard assignment from them — namely, to get rid of at least twenty-five wolves, who’d lost all restraint and were a true scourge of Selene, attacking grazing cattle and occasionally munching on some scrawny shepherd as well. The guards said wolves were plentiful around the village. One had to bring back wolf tails as proof. The wolves were Level 22, which was good. They were also pack animals, which was anything but.

  The guards had another quest involving a visit to some dark hollow and laying waste to a nest of spiders; however, I could not take that one, since it had stipulated a party of adventurers, whereas I was completely on my own. Pity, too — the reward would be an amulet of some sort.

  Most importantly, one of the laziest and chattiest guards had asked me to carry a birch bark letter to his brother. Why most importantly? Because the village guard’s brother was serving Lord Cedry in the same capacity. That would be reason enough to start a conversation. I could only imagine how many such letters the local in question got. If each player brought him one...

  That was a perfectly standard quest, and one could get one in any town or village. Another rule of Waldyra was that one could also earn money and XP without killing monsters, but rather by performing peaceful tasks — working as a courier, a farm hand, or a builder, for example.

  One thing I couldn’t get, though, was why a player would even need to level up and keep buying expensive equipment if they hadn’t planned on fighting monsters or players in the first place? Once again, most skills and spells could only be leveled up in battle. You could get your character to Level 100; that did not mean anything in itself when all one’s spells were Tier One, ditto battle skills, and one had no combat experience to boot. No point whatsoever. All you could do was prance around peaceful zones in shiny armor to make newbies gawk or join the Fosesqua community of like-minded weirdoes.

  One encountered the very same problem when a weak player got rushed by a stronger one. You could see their level count grow at an amazing rate, but the result would be the same — the player did not level up their skills, just following the “level-upper” destroying everything in their way doing nothing. In other words, such leveling-up was actually a disservice.

  I moved my feet slowly, keeping time with the party in front of me. I summoned my small snake and started pitting it against any small critter or insect unfortunate enough to approach the side of the road. I got but a single experience point for the snake’s every kill, but my actual purpose had been to level up the spell itself. It was high time for my snake to get bigger and more muscular. The opponents were getting more dangerous with the day.

  I also set the Fire Ember spell in my right palm and aimed it at the nearest sunflower. I wasn’t impressed much.

  My palm discharged a tiny flame, almost invisible in broad daylight, which hissed softly through the air and smashed into the plant’s massive stalk, leaving nothing but a dark singe on it. That was that. The sunflower didn’t even catch fire, let alone turn into a pile of ashes. It just swayed a few times before reassuming its initial position, its round face turned toward the sun. Something buzzed through the air, and a fast-moving black dot flew right in my direction. Before I could even react, a barely visible crimson flash appeared before my eyes, notifying me of HP loss. It was minor, but a nuisance still. The buzzing continued, so I quickly raised my hand at the dark speck speeding in my direction, which I’d recognized as a bee, or maybe a wasp with a striped body, before it turned into ash — oddly, the Ember connected at first attempt. I was lucky the damn thing hadn’t poisoned me.

  I noticed I’d fallen behind my “escort,” so I picked up my snake and followed them. They’d had no idea they were my escort, and I had no intention of letting them know as much.

  * * *

  The gate was impressive.

  Or, perhaps, I should have put it another way. It was mind-boggling.

  The massive wings would do justice to any fortress, as well as the wall of stone, as tall as the height of several average human beings. Such serious fortifications looked very odd on a simple manor.

  I whistled as I raised my head, and then looked down at the pair of guards, completely dwarfed by the gigantic gate.

  “Good afternoon!”

  “Same to you, I’m sure,” the guard in a shiny chain mail drawled slowly, easily holding a huge halberd on his shoulder. The local guards were anything but friendly, but they compensated by being burly and strong. The last thing I’d want to do was to get into an altercation with bruisers like that.

  Therefore, I did my best to be polite, made a beaming grin, and said,

  “I have a message to...”

  “To me,” the guard said dejectedly, hanging his head and reaching out his hand to take the letter. “From my brother.”

  “Right on,” I said happily, handing over the letter and receiving my well-earned coppers. “Him and none other.”

  “He writes to me every day,” the guard complained bitterly. “Around a dozen times. And, on some days, even more... Not like he’s ever saying anything new — it’s always that our parents are fine, and so are the cattle... Gods almighty.”

  “Uh...” I drawled, having found nothing more appropriate to say.

  “I know that much without him telling me!” The big guy was really upset now. “I spend my nights at home and see our parents every day! My wife never writes, but my brother can send around two dozen letters a day! Where does he even get all that bark?”

  I did know where his brother got the birch bark — as I’d been waiting for company, I’d seen the guard accept a bunch from a player and pay. There was a recurrent quest — you’d get the guard some birch bark and some ink used for writing endless letters to his brother, and it went on and on like that.

  Instead of saying any of this out loud, I just mumbled vaguely,

  “Well... Uh...”

  “All right,” the guard breathed out wearily. “Thank you for your work. Is there anything else?”

  “Oh. There is indeed! I would like to see the owner of this glorious mansion, Lord Cedry. Is he present?”

  “Duh. He is, but what makes you think he’ll want to see you? He’d never get any time to himself if he talked to every stranger.”

  Now it was my time to hang my head sadly. There we were. The old relentless game mechanics in action.

  The higher the status of a local in the hierarchic structure of Waldyra, the more difficult it was to see them. In case of a peasant, you could just knock on the door. But to see the king, you would really have to jump through all sorts of hoops.

  The guard did not disappoint me.

  He scratched his well-scraped chin, uttering.

  “Although...”

  “Although what?” I urged him on, drawing a heavy sigh.

  “If you were someone famous... For example, a hero who had done a few valiant deeds for the benefit of our lands and worthy of
receiving a reward from Lord Cedry personally, now that would be a different story. Get me?”

  “I do,” I agreed, assessing the height of the walls. There was no way of scaling them. “It’s simple enough. But how does one earn such an honor?”

  “It is not that hard a task, but nor it is that simple,” the guard said self-importantly. “The village of Selene stands on Lord Cedry’s lands, and he spends his every waking hour to assure it thrives. Do the village a good turn, complete a few quests, protect the peasants from the wild beasts that bother them, show your valor, and...”