The Way of the Clan 8

by Dem Mikhaylov

  Roughly speaking, if I immediately transfer the status of Navigator to any of the mentioned members of Sleepless, I would be paid even more. By any means, they were urging me to give over the unique spell and remain a simple passenger - an elite and disgustingly rich loafer. For the Sleepless, I seemed to be a stubborn golden egg, hiding the tasty contents under its shell. And they were just hungry to break through it, and suck the status of the Great Navigator out of me. And they hoped to pierce the shell through funding, hoping that my greed would prevail over my thirst for adventure.

  Was it fair?

  Yes. Completely.

  What part of me was a specialist? I did not practice any skills, did not train on ships, did not have any interaction with captains or admirals. I had no experience of navigation. I had zero experience of a combat ship armada. In a word - I am neither an expert in maritime affairs, nor navigating in particular. During the last sea battle, I simply gave control over all my skills over to the Baroness, and then to another captain. And then I was sitting idle on the bench, looking enthusiastically at what was happening all around me.

  So yes – understandable. Still insulting.

  After reading a few more paragraphs, I realized that I was starting to lose concentration. Too many points! Dozens! Oh... After setting aside the contract, I took a cup of coffee from the table and went to the window, deciding to stare at the city panorama instead. Behind my back, I heard the voices of my father and Pal Pavlovich. Judging by the conversation, a reliable lawyer had arrived, ready to "fight" for our side. Good news.

  I smelled a faint and tart aroma of perfume, and the Baroness stood beside me, cradling a mug of coffee in her hands.

  "Already read and agreed?" She asked. “Usually such contracts are read with a thick red pencil in one’s hand, making notes on each and every line. All at once, the lips of the reader scornfully protrude or angrily purse, emitting sighs, and sometimes the readers are muttering to themselves under their breaths something like: "they’ve gotta be joking...".

  "For me, it is total nonsense," I admitted. "I will let the lawyer look it over. I have read dozens of points and do not really remember any of them.”

  “For remembering, you need a thick red pencil.”

  “I will have to buy one,” I nodded. “By the way, I noticed that where the amount should be indicated, there is a blank.”

  “We will also discuss also the sum,” smiled BB. “Ros, I will tell directly — I will not leave from here without a result. I did everything possible "there" to press on you and speed up the time of departure. Now I have come here. And you will not drive me out of here. I will sleep on your couch, wear your slippers, eat your food every minute you do not sign this contract.”

  I understood that the Baroness was joking. Moreover, I remembered that in every joke there was some truth. I understood that the head of the Sleepless Clan really did everything possible and impossible. It all began a long time ago, but ended in the fact that we were standing in the real world side by side and drinking coffee, looking out at a rather dull and cloudy city. And this was the merit of the Baroness. She, like a black puma, had tracked me down in the vast virtual world like a fat rabbit, overtaking me and sinking her teeth into my flesh. And she did not intend to weaken the murderous grip.

  And it warranted respect. A lot of respect.

  She was practically my age. But her dedication, perseverance, aggressiveness and intelligence exceed mine. I cannot but acknowledge this fact.

  And just as well I could not help but notice that the fragile girl had reached the limit of exhaustion. Her mind was still sharp, and her determination was strong. But her physical body was already losing traction. The shadows under the eyes were thick and black. She swallowed the coffee in a special way — the way one drinks medicine. For her, coffee was no longer a tasty aromatic drink, but just a kind of liquid black substance that could give a little more energy to her for a certain period. Shoulders drooping, the head slightly lowered, the mug trembling in her fingers. And she looked too thin - these were all signs of beginning exhaustion.

  The Black Baroness was exhausted.

  I held out my hand and gently took the mug with the remnants of coffee from the girl. I nodded to the sofa and said:

  "I will get the futon near the wall. Kira will throw in a blanket and a pillow. You, in the meantime, go to the kitchen. I will give you a plate with a dose of spaghetti and my brand name sauce, plus some salad. Eat and go to bed. Three or four hours. After all, how long is it going to take those high-level lawyers to discuss each point? They will argue over every tiny change in the contract, right?”

  “Sometimes it takes days and weeks.”

  “You see. Come on, go get some sleep. In any case, you will be awakened at the right time.”

  Her tired brown eyes looked at me. Carefully studied me. Her hoarse voice said, with some surprise:

  "Sometimes you could obey, right?"

  After that, the Baroness went to the kitchen. I put the mugs on the windowsill and, getting the sofa, dragged it to the far wall. I whispered a few words to Kira. She nodded and went into the closet. Soon, a new character appeared at the front door - a tall and imposing gray-haired man of about sixty years old, holding a different-looking, but still very expensive, leather briefcase. Our players had arrived.

  Soon our black-haired guest from Hungary was devouring the spaghetti and sipping on a tall glass of tomato juice. It took her less than ten minutes to clear the plate. Then the Baroness took off her jacket, climbed onto the couch in a black T Shirt, covered herself with a blanket, and fell asleep instantly. Into the swirl of dreams. Although, with such developed fatigue, dreams usually do not occur.

  Kira came up to me and whispered:

  “She was pretty much already shaking with chills. She could not have slept on the plane?”

  The girl acquaintance of the Baroness answered instead of me:

  “Ms. Mirela worked on the papers during the whole flight. Her dedication is amazing ...”

  “You should sleep, too,” I muttered, trying in every possible way not to look where a man with a jealous girlfriend should not look. “We have a bunch of mattresses, pillows and blankets. Want to?”

  “I want to!”

  "Will you have spaghetti?"

  “Yes!”

  “Well, alright then…”

  During the next three hours, I was mostly bored. Sometimes my father, or our extremely polite and authoritative lawyer, who specified various details, approached me. Kira did not approach me, because there was no need to go anywhere - she sat with me, squeezed into the chair by my side.

  If we took to the summary of my father and the lawyer, then it turned out there were practically no amendments to the treaty. The contract was fair - they wanted me to work only for them and plow with all my might. They wanted me to obey the orders from the leadership of the armada, not to show independence in combat situations - and in no case, show unhealthy heroism, to save the drowning, to not reach out to the dying and throw the life-saving circle to the needy. It sounded ridiculous, but the essence was precisely that my business was to navigate. If I got into my own business, and even with successful results – there were penalties.

  Which was insulting double. My father completely agreed with that paragraph. It made sense- he was a warrior, they had all these roles and responsibilities in the Navy for a long time now, and this was considered the only true approach. However, it was still insulting.

  A major amendment, on which I insisted, was freedom during rest hours. When the ships stopped for a night's rest – I was free in deeds and movements. I was a hired worker with a bonded contract, but not a slave. And the Sleepless wished that while I was online, I would be always under their care. And I suppose my amendment was not childishness, but just common sense.

  There were going to be unexplored islands! And to pass that up?

  Asking for permission? Would not do.

  After three hours of inactivity, my
Valdira messenger was suddenly full of activity - interesting events had begun to occur in the game. Driven by his thirst for profit, Bom had caused quite a ruckus. He had managed to collect our team almost entirely, after which they all jumped into a teleporter and found themselves at the foot of the Emptyore Mountains, near the source of the Foriss river, which flows into Lake Fomiss. The area was south-west of the outskirts of the dense forest of Dark Edge and to the west of the city of Shieldcity.

  The valiant correspondent Kaylen Seeker, describing everything that was happening with enthusiastic, rich phrases, not forgetting to attach colorful screenshots to the messages, informed us. Therefore, Kira and I witnessed the beginning of their adventure. Everything was like the beginning of a classic adventure novel. The impression was strengthened by Kaylen's phrases: "With a firm hand, he took hold of the handle of the machete, thrust it into the bark of the oak bark, and declared ..." or: "Falling to his knees, Cray scooped up the clear sparkling water with his hands and greedily drank with his dry, pursed lips. His face was distorted in the paroxysm of pleasure."

  The lines appeared one after another, and for the next hour, Kira and I did not take our eyes off the computer screen, eagerly reading the text describing the misadventures of the heroes following the old map and looking for the grave of an ancient multi-armed monster hidden beneath a water column. There was no hurry - the preliminary conversations were over, and now the busty girl, a little sleepy, confidently typed on the keyboard of the ultra-thin laptop, making corrections to the contract and deleting the marked paragraphs. Then everything would be printed and presented to the major parties - the sleeping Black Baroness and me. If we all approved, then we would only have to write down the agreed amount into the empty space - but we had not discussed it yet. That battle was ahead.

  A new version of the treaty was being printed, and Kira and I enjoyed the peace, sipping coffee, watching as the detachment led by Bom wandered through the wet coastal riverbeds. I was especially impressed by the heroism of the black and white wolf participating in the campaign, who had managed to catch up with and kill the mother golden deer, while carrying an enthusiastically screaming girl on his back. Yes. My daughter and the pet were there. Dad drinks coffee, and his dear daughter rides on the back of a wolf. Simply spectacular...

  We followed the path of the group to the very source of the Foriss River, where, according to the chronicler Kaylen, "dark and gray lifeless rocks threateningly hung over their heads ..."

  And then I had to distract myself.

  The papers, fresh and hot from the printer, were handed over to me. A new version of the agreement. It was time to read.

  And it was time to wake up the Black Baroness. But I did not have to do anything… She had her own staff. The busty girl was already sneaking up to the couch...

  Damn ... I would remember this chest to the T. All because this secondary sexual characteristic of this person was so immense, that my eyes involuntarily were caught up there. And even without any hint of eroticism, but simply sincere surprise.

  The Baroness woke up quickly. Just like in the military - at once, sat up on the couch, lowered her legs, smoothed her hair, rubbed her face with her hands, stood up and looked at everyone with the sober look of a completely awakened person. She went into the bathroom - having to refresh herself after sleep. My thoughts immediately slipped to the poster I had thrown into the washing machine - I sincerely hoped that she would not find it. That would have been embarrassing. I would then proceed to smack Kira in the gaming world. There, pain is not felt.

  We all waited in silence for Mirela to return.

  Hardly had the Baroness returned, that her assistant - yes, the same one, with the rich features - handed the boss a cup of coffee. I was finally convinced that the girl was like a trusted personal secretary. And she would be entrusted with the documents. Proven able to do many things that a man cannot do, not shying to sleep on a mattress spread out at the feet of the boss. Look how she looks at Mirela. I wondered if she had an avatar in the world of Valdira, and if so, what kind of race, class and body. The Clan — Sleepless, for sure. And perhaps she has the same position there as in the real world. Why change secretaries in the crossing between the worlds?

  The head of Sleepless settled herself at the table, next to her lawyer. In a muffled voice and in Hungarian, she began to point the end of her expensive ink pen to the places that our side demanded to somehow change or to delete. All our amendments dealt mainly with one thing: the expansion of my independence. For the most part, during the stops — not during the movement of combat ships.

  I would refuse to sign the contract as long as they would not remove the point where I pledged not to attend the special enclosed areas of the Flagship, where there may be secret cargo, weapons, or so on. I refused to comply with this completely. However, not because I wanted to learn other people's secrets, but because it was too easy for me to trip up with this. Accidentally turned the wrong way - and there, you broke the contract, climbed into a special zone. By accident? Does not matter.

  I made it a condition - all doors leading to places where I could not go should be closed and locked. And I would not to try to open locked doors, gates, windows and so on. And also on each such door there should be a special sign, indicating that it is forbidden to go further. Like in the army. And I did not care that the Sleepless would have to go through the trouble to do this to many, many doors.

  I was not going to receive fines just because I confused the galley with the arsenal. The same applied to Kira - I intended to take her to the flagship at any cost. And I did not want my girl to listen to any accusations because she accidentally tripped into, for example, into a place where a secret was kept.

  The other amendments were very small, but their changes influenced me highly. And this was the main point. More freedom, more guarantees. I was still a unique specialist, so I could have a little leeway with the conditions.

  The Baroness read attentively, nodded, clarified something, thoughtfully bitt her lower lip. She read the amended contract twice. Then she ran her eyes over a couple of particularly large items and finally nodded, spreading the papers in front of her.

  "Acceptable."

  “Excellent,” I smiled. “Well — only one thing left?”

  "Only one thing," the head of Sleepless nodded. "Are you waiting for a financial offer from us? Or will you voice the amount?”

  “I do,” I stretched my lips in a sincere, and not at all condescending, smile. “One and a half million euros. And consider that, Baroness, I will not bargain. For a very simple reason - you will not find a cheaper offer. Imagine that a Great Navigator had been born in England, you would now hear the sum of a million and a half pounds, or even more. And there would be many more amendments. Although, I will not argue — they would have treated you with dishes much more elaborate than spaghetti with meat sauce.”

  “The spaghetti was delicious,” said the BB, having exchanged glances with the morbid lawyer. “Any left, by the way?”

  “There is.”

  "Nope," Kira said, and stroked her belly. "It is gone..."

  "Hmm ... I will make it again."

  “Great. I will have a double portion of what you will cook up this time,” the Baroness smiled. “Okay. One and a half million euros. Without bargain. Is that all?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “Something else. The deal must be official and fully transparent. With the correct amount. Without trying to get away from taxes and with full payment of these at your expense.

  "Huh… not too much?”

  “I am the son of a combat admiral," I explained, "the current Admiral. One of the top of the military elite. Of those who by their order send warships back or forth. He is one who can disarm nuclear pipelines with one command, or vice versa - to force to load onboard the nuclear ammunition. Also, my father is, by default, the bearer of various terrible secrets of the motherland. I think you yourself understand this. And if he or his son, for example,
is involved in a strange transaction, where huge amounts appear on statements ...”

  I have never seen such an astonished look from my father. By the way, I was not sure that saying this was so necessary. Maybe it was not required. But if there was even a tiny chance that my father may would suspected in the sale of something sketchy, or working for some corporation other than their native homeland ... that would be bad. He would not survive such a disgrace. The deal would be crystal clear, or it would not be at all.

  “All right ...” slowly nodded the Baroness. “Official bank transfers. Clear. But, paying taxes at our expense ...”

  “Sorry,” I spread my hands. “I want exactly one and a half million on the account. In Euros. And no more fuss with taxes or explanations. Anyway, I agreed to your funding system, where I receive only a third of the total amount now, and the rest upon completion of the trip. I agreed with everything on your terms. Changes in the contract are only cosmetic. You buy me and my guts for the whole trip. And I agree. For the price of one and a half million euros. Clean.”

  This time the silence hung for longer. The lawyer thoughtfully twisted the gold plated pen, drawing attention to himself. This was certainly going to be on him.

  The Baroness shook her head, rubbed her temples with her fingers, and nodded emphatically:

  “Good!” Taking the pen from the lawyer, she asked him something, and he quickly clicked the keys of the silver calculator.

  The B read, snorted, and entered the amount in the blanks, putting her sweeping signature on several copies of the contract. She moved the papers in my direction and held out a pen:

  “We have agreed. One and a half million euros. Payment of taxes for your account - I added into the contract a large sum, part of which you will spend on paying debts to the state. A crystal-clear official transaction. After all the calculations with the state exactly one and a half million on will be on your account. All to the last cent will be yours. This is the price for which I hire a unique specialist. Check and sign.”