“Will you give us a tour?” Kalatea immediately rejoined.
“Not of the entire castle,” I backed off remembering Plinto’s sculptures and his desire to keep them under wraps. “There are several areas that are off limits to guests. As for the rest of it, you are more than welcome to check it out.”
“All right, everyone. We’re leaving! Grinding for a First Kill without earning any XP in the process is a waste of time. Varga est! Dalran!”
While the Shamans retreated from the Shadow Dungeon, I called Kreel and laid out the situation to him. Having received his assurance that all our prior agreements remained in place, I asked Viltrius to open a portal and transferred the entire raid party, including Plinto and Bjorg, to Altameda. Even though it was getting late, none of the guests from the neighboring continent refused a visit to such a unique place—a castle that had been the subject of an entire movie.
“Viltrius, show our guests around Altameda,” I asked my majordomo, slumping wearily in my chair. “When they’re ready, open a portal to Anhurs.”
I had played my fill for today and had no more mental or physical energy left. It’s not like the guests could do any harm to the castle. It was impossible to record Altameda’s coordinates, or leave it, or catch a glimpse of Plinto’s statues. Nothing was possible. They could only stroll about and gape at its sights.
“What a beautiful castle,” Kalatea returned in about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes that I had spent struggling with my bursting mailbox. What a time-sink—it was already 1:30 in the morning. Clan recruitment, requests for money, threats, questions, spam, quest offers, questions about mechanics—the mailbox had it all. I was especially amused by a letter from a player named Sabantul: “Mahan! I have a treasure map that I want to sell you for 300,000.” I stared at this letter for a few minutes—I’d never encountered such an extreme attempt to wheedle some money from me. Does anyone actually fall for this? I was about to enter this player in my spam filter, when my hand experienced a spasm and clicked on the ‘Reply’ button.
“Hi! A treasure map for 300k is a bit steep. Where’d you see prices like that? I can buy your map for about ten thousand, no more. And, please note, I haven’t seen your map and have no idea where you got it from. You won’t sell it for 300k, so here’s your best offer.”
I can’t explain why I wrote this letter. I had the dim feeling that I had done the right thing, so I ignored my reasoning and surrendered to the urge. I’m a Shaman after all, aren’t I?
“Mahan, I’m still chewing over your question about Crafting and Spirits,” Kalatea went on. “It’s implausible.”
“On the one hand, yes,” I agreed. “On the other, who knows what the devs really coded in? As I understand it, you are the designer of the Shaman class and its main tester. But what if Crafting isn’t tied to the class specifically? What if it was designed as an inter-class mechanic?”
“Impossible. You can’t distribute something like that between the various classes, while preserving balance. Barliona is strict about that.”
“Do you have Crafting?”
“That’s not a very appropriate question to ask a player, but I’ll answer it—no. I don’t have Crafting. Aozaki, however, does have it. Given that she is terribly curious by nature, I’d guess she’d already dig something up if there was something there.”
“I don’t have any arguments for or against this—it’s just an idea that occurred to me. I haven’t tried any experiments myself. If you’ll permit Aozaki to stay with us and work with me on this issue, maybe we’ll come up with something. Or at least, we’ll make sure that Crafting and Spirits are really unrelated. It’s a bit silly to discuss what’s possible and what’s not at the moment.”
“The members of my Order are not slaves. If she likes, she can stay,” Kalatea said with a slight note of aggro in her voice. I began to get the feeling that she had some issues when it came to these types of conversations. Well, the hell with her. I didn’t feel like rummaging in her head anyway.
“Then we’re on the same page,” I replied, yawning. “Until tomorrow, then.”
EXIT!
The cocoon lid slowly slid aside, unveiling the ceiling of my modest room to my sight. I hadn’t any thoughts left, as if my brain had gone offline for maintenance. I clambered out with difficulty and forced myself to swallow a quick dinner/breakfast and collapsed into my bed with a soft moan. My head hurt as though a herd of horses had galloped through it—and back again. Several times. That there’s the difference between a long-term immersion capsule and my budget version. I really needed to look into buying a cutting-edge model as soon as possible. Damn! I forgot that I would be leaving this apartment in short order. Somehow this had slipped my mind. I hope that Sergei will think of buying me a normal capsule. Otherwise, I’d kill him in some degenerate and very violent way.
And on this happy note, I slipped into sleep.
The next morning began for me at ten till eleven with my cocoon blaring wildly. The alarm which I had set before exiting the game was stubbornly reminding me of my date with Anastaria. Heartless piece of junk. My headache was still there, though it hurt less than the night before. Still, it reminded me of its presence with a dull hum in the back of my head. That was the last thing we needed! I really needed to take the day off from Barliona—I’ll meet up with Stacey, speak with Kreel and then sign out to reality at the first opportunity. Let the Shamans deal with their visa to Kalragon on their own, let Kreel kill the penultimate boss of his Dungeon, and let Barliona go to hell—my health was dearer to me.
Hello, wanderer! Have you already been released? Good work! Let’s hang out at my place tonight—have some beers and catch up. I will call a driver for you—aren’t you like unemployed or something? He’ll be there at six in the evening. Don’t be late.
Before jumping into my cocoon, I checked the mail and was surprised to see Sergei’s message. He had managed to get everything ready a day in advance! In seven hours I would be free of the strange old man and his henchmen. Then I’ll be able to go on without worrying about threats to my life. And that included from Phoenix and its members in reality. I doubt Ehkiller will part with several billion gold so easily. If I were him, I’d deal with the problem in a more direct manner.
Sounds good! I’ll be waiting for that ride!
“You look way too happy,” Anastaria remarked as soon as I sat down in the chair across from her. “Have you finally decided to take me to your Dungeon and are about to tell me this good news?”
“You almost guessed right,” I refused to submit to her jibe. “But only almost. You’ve heard my terms—you’ll only get access to the Shadow Dungeon after you…”
“Gawd you’re annoying,” Stacey cut me off. “‘Crastil, Crastil, Eye, Crastil.’ Bah!”
“Nice special they have going on today,” I wasn’t about to spar with Anastaria. “I can’t figure out what its taste reminds me of.”
“Grygz sold me all his Crastils,” Anastaria said suddenly, placing on the table all of the orbs she had collected. “As of now, I am the only player who has any. So we’ll have to learn to see eye to eye.”
“Oh no! What a calamity! How will I survive this mortal mortal blow?” I replied glibly, even though everything inside of me had turned upside down. If the head of the Pirates was out of the picture, I only knew one other NPC that had this item—the High Mage of Anhurs. The next question was whether Anastaria knew about him as well…But no, there’s a more important question—would the High Mage even give me his Crastil? I’d have to approach this from two angles—on my own and with the help of the old man and his programmers—this, despite the fact that I was plotting my escape from him. I had to encourage the Mage to part with his Crastil. And part with it only for me.
“I’ll find another one,” I added, noting that Anastaria was watching me closely. It was like she was trying to gauge by my reaction whether or not I was bluffing. “There’s more than just Crastils in Barliona.”
“Wh
at’s true is true. Did you hear the latest news from the Armard campaign?” Anastaria changed topics.
“Erm…No…Why, what happened?”
“There’s a small Malabar clan called Oblivion that’s headed by a Mage named Musubi. It’s basically a raiding clan. Those who don’t enjoy raiding, don’t hang around it too long. And so, in some utterly mysterious manner, these guys managed to break through into the city and entrench themselves in a cellar of one of the buildings.”
“Great! But, uh, why are you telling me this?”
“Let me finish. The Armard mobs didn’t bother to deal with them. They simply walled Musubi’s raid off in the cellar. Why risk anything, after all? Those Imitators are a clever lot, what can you say. Portal scrolls don’t work in Armard, and there’s no way to escape. They tried a summons from the Anhurs Mages, but it didn’t work. The situation seemed hopeless. Either they had to sit there and wait for the Character Stuck button to appear, or hammer their heads against the walls in the hopes of being sent to respawn.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but.’”
“Of course! Understanding that the costs of equipment, herbs and enchantments wouldn’t be recouped by the loot they had acquired, Musubi decided to sign out to reality and begin selling teleportation right into the center of the city on the forums. There were several Mages in his raid party that could…”
“Wait up—you just said that teleportation doesn’t work in Armard.”
“Not exactly. Scrolls don’t work and you can’t teleport to a specific location in the Shadow Empire. Likewise, as it turned out, you can’t summon a player from Armard, but you are free to summon people into the city. So Musubi attracted the attention of Etamzilat and Undigit, both of whom decided to send their raids right into Armard. The ‘City Capture’ Achievement corrupted their brains—they wanted to be the first to complete the Emperor’s order. They paid a lot of money to the Mage, and fifty of the top players from each clan teleported into the barricaded cellar. At first they didn’t notice that there’s wasn’t a way out—everyone was getting ready for the battle ahead. But when the cellar was brimming with players from three clans, and it turned out there was no passage out of it…”
“They forced Musubi to refund the money?” I couldn’t help but crack a grin, imagining the looks on Undigit’s and Etamzilat’s face.
“They tried, but he refused outright: ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re right in the center of Armard as we agreed. I kept my part of the bargain.’ That’s when Undigit made a fatal mistake…”
“He summoned the Guardian,” I realized.
“Yup! He had signed the contract with Musubi in Barliona and so decided to deal with him according to the strictest interpretation of the game law. I’m guessing he figured he’d make a profit along the way too.”
“And so the Guardian appeared,” I prompted Stacey onward. “And a trial was held. As I understand the updated mechanics, Aramrd only has one Guardian.”
“That’s correct. Geranika appeared and was very surprised to find so many players in one of his cellars. He remarked that he’d need to investigate this riotous affair thoroughly, since no one had reported it to him before. And then he began to try the case before him. Finding for Musubi, since he really had done everything according to the terms of the contract, Geranika teleported the entire Oblivion raid party outside the city. So they didn’t interfere. He even gave them some items as a reward for ‘such a pleasant gift.’ No one knows what Musubi got out of it, but it’s been three days since anyone’s seen him in-game. But that’s not important. After that Geranika began holding talks with a hundred high-level players.”
“In other words, there is a cellar in Armard chock-full of Legendaries?”
“Not exactly. I can’t say for sure since Donotpunnik won’t show me the video and I’m not one to believe things without having evidence, but, again, rumor has it that Geranika has some power similar to ‘Temporary Rust.’ A very unpleasant spell that takes the form of fog. An item that finds its way inside begins to lose Durability until it’s destroyed. It’s not hard to remove this debuff: ordinary water is enough, but the thing is you have to get the item out of the fog first. Otherwise the debuff is recast immediately.”
“A hermetically-sealed cellar full of players who basically can’t move,” I muttered. Somehow the loss of Undigit and Etamzilat no longer seemed that funny to me—parting with equipment intended for raiding makes the raid seem a bit too expensive.
“The debuff lasts ten minutes. Ten percent Durability is consumed every minute,” Anastaria went on. “It works even if the item is in your bag. How do you think they got themselves out?”
“They got themselves out?” I asked surprised.
“Of course! After all, Donotpunnik was there—and he’s not one to lose what he’d worked so hard to gain. So he concocted an escape plan. I’m curious to see if you can guess what it is.”
“There were two raid parties there, right?” An idea immediately occurred to me. “The easiest way is to slaughter the other raid party. I don’t know about the ‘Rust,’ but once you respawn all of your debuffs are gone. Of course that means that someone has to survive…”
“A+ Mahan,” Anastaria smiled, “and a donut as a bonus! What an intelligent little darling you are! They cast lots, chose a player who would lose everything and began to kill each other. Even combining their forces they failed to harm Geranika in any way. As a result, the Heirs of the Titans and the Azure Dragons are now at war with Oblivion. Undigit promised a thousand gold for every killed Oblivion player. That’s how it is.”
“Hmm…strange. I didn’t figure Undigit for such a fool.”
“Explain?”
“A thousand gold per kill that kicks the player out of the game for twelve hours. I’d get a new level so as not to lose Experience and then spend the next month signing into the game just to get killed. Twice a day at 12 hour intervals. I’d take all my equipment off too, so that they wouldn’t waste time seeing who got what. Sixty thousand credits a month for doing absolutely nothing sounds like a good way to get by.”
“Hahaha,” Anastaria laughed. “You’re a real miracle, Mahan. The clan heads have gotten so accustomed to dealing in millions that several hundred thousand spent on revenge seems like a drop in the ocean to them. And of course, for the right person, this very drop might seem like an ocean itself. I’ll make sure to pass your idea along to my dad. Maybe we’ll manage to make a deal with someone from Oblivion. Listen, I gotta run. Our family dinner here is done for today, but I meant to ask you, will you go to the ball with me?”
“Go where with you?” My eyebrows jumped from such an unexpected request from Anastaria.
“To the ball. I have an invitation to this one event in Shaldan Province. It’ll be in four days. The ball must be attended with your second half, if you have one, and well, you’re still technically it. I’ve been told that the Governor might spare several minutes after the ball to speak with me—and whoever is with me. I’m pretty sure your clan needs to boost its rep with one more Province?”
Hmm…Clan reputation with Shaldan Province? Did I need this? Hell, I still wasn’t that sure I needed the clan, let alone the other stuff! I guess I’d already decided to keep working on it and contracted a company that would recruit people for me, but I hadn’t really done anything else. At the same time, weak excuses such as not having the time or the opportunity or something else wouldn’t do. If I wanted to do it, I’d definitely find the time. I needed to do something about this and as soon as possible! Either I work on the clan and become its true leader, or the Legends of Barliona ceases to exist. It’s a bit crude of course, but nothing else occurred to me. It was that simple—it would cease to exist.
“Dan, I really need to run. Will you go with me?”
“Pencil it in,” I decided. “You may count on me, Duchess. But only for the chance to speak with the Governor.”
“Oh how nice, ‘Duchess.’ I can’t help bu
t recall the days we spent together, and the nights,” Anastaria meowed, making me want to wring her neck.
“All right, until tomorrow then,” Anastaria tarried for a second, almost jerked towards me as per habit, wishing to kiss me and dissolve into thin air, but the table intervened, thankfully, keeping her from doing this. Sighing with some disappointment, Stacey waved a goodbye and cast a portal to wherever. I suppose that’ll be 1-0 for the table…
“Mahan! I’ve already received a report that you’ve dealt with the problem plaguing the mission to Blue Mosses,” Elizabeth said enthusiastically. I decided to complete the cow quest right after leaving the Golden Horseshoe and, just in case, undergo the cleansing process to rid myself of any markers. Who knows how many I’m currently sporting, courtesy of Phoenix’s Rogues? Maybe none and maybe I’m decked out in them like a Christmas tree! At the moment, the last thing I should do is reveal to Anastaria where another Crastil is located. I had to be the first to speak with the High Mage of Anhurs.
You have completed the ‘Missing Cows’ quest. Reward received: +100 Reputation with the Priests of Eluna. 30 silver.
“I don’t have anything for you at the moment,” Elsa added with disappointment, spreading her arms. “Lately our Priests have been really on the ball, completing all their assignments. I don’t even know how to keep them busy, so you’ll have to forgive me.”
“It’s not a big deal. I don’t have too much free time myself right now.” Elsa, I have some business to discuss with you…Two things actually. The first is that I’d like to receive your blessing in order to cleanse myself of any Rogue markers.”
“Hang on, let me check,” Elizabeth interrupted me and her two eyes turned into ice. Several minutes later, a notification appeared:
You have received the Blessing of the High Priestess buff. All base stats increased by 5%. Duration: 24 hours.
The Way of the Shaman [06] Shaman's Revenge Page 17