“I wish to register an invention,” I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. Registration or instantiation, what’s the difference in the end? What I wanted at the moment more than anything was to slip this invention to someone else. Write down the recipe and sell it. There was no way I was going to spend the rest of my life crafting pendants.
“Allow me to examine your invention,” the gnome replied in a businesslike tone. I guess this NPC was in charge of everything the masters’ guild did. A surprising workload.
Wishing to get the registration over and done with as soon as possible, I opened my Jewelcrafting recipe book and offered it to the Master. Let’s see what he knows about gems and settings.
“Would you look at that!” the gnome said a moment later, looking at me with renewed respect. “The Chess Set of Karmadont, the Cursed Chess, the Novice’s Amulet and so much more! You have led a productive life of creation, Artificer!”
It was my turn to be surprised. Never had one of the teachers called me an Artificer. In fact, I periodically got the impression that crafting and the creation of artifacts were utterly different things—and yet the gnome managed to surprise me.
“You know about the Artificers?” I cast my line.
“A little. There haven’t been that many in the history of Barliona. A hundred or two, no more. It’s very rare for an Artificer to reach the fifth rank. Incredibly rare. As far as I know, there was only one sentient who managed it before you. And that was Karmadont himself!”
“The Emperor?”
“The very one! Or do you believe that an ordinary Hunter could create the Chess Set? Of course not! Karmadont was a great craftsman. Have you seen the Imperial throne? That is his handiwork too. Let me see your book—I’ll put in a registration request. Ugh. You need to instantiate it! You’ve confused me with all this chatting.”
The gnome went on muttering something or other, rummaging around my book of recipes, but I wasn’t listening to him. I had received a quest to meet a sentient who would tell me how to level up further. When it came to creating artifacts, that is. And yet only Karmadont had managed to reach the fifth rank. The muttering gnome had said so. There could only be one explanation, but I refused to believe it—Karmadont was dead. The Emperor who had created the Chess Set no longer walked beneath the Barliona sky. Unless…
“Ready!” the gnome exclaimed happily, returning my book to me. “Come by in three days and I’ll give you the recipe. I imagine that by that time we’ll manage to pass all the necessary registrations.”
“Is there any way to sell it?”
“Sell it?” the gnome asked surprised. “That’s impossible. This recipe belongs only to one creature in this world—Shaman Mahan, the Dragon. No other Free Citizen can learn it. This is an Epic recipe—it cannot be transferred.”
“At all?” I asked a dumb questions, still refusing to believe that I was burdened with this thing forever.
“Let my hands cease to create if I’m lying to you!” the gnome uttered the most terrible oath of the masters’ guild. These were words you didn’t say lightly, so I might as well exit the game now and delete my character—the lovebirds of Barliona would never leave me alone from now on. It looked like my next several months would brim with pendant crafting.
“I see. What else do you know about Karmadont the Artificer?” I decided to pump the gnome for everything he knew. If I can’t sell the recipe, then at least I can find out something useful…
“I know he reached Level 115. And that’s it. The only work of his that we still have is the Imperial throne. Supposedly it bears an inscription that mentions other works, but the masters aren’t allowed to study it. May I help you with anything else?”
This was the key phrase that let me know that my conversation with the NPC had ended, so I bowed a parting and hurried to the Golden Horseshoe, not wishing to use my Blink spell. I needed to do some thinking.
“Darling, will we be meeting today?” I had walked half the distance from the masters’ guild to the central square where the tavern was located when Anastaria’s voice appeared in my head again. “We lost four days, so we need to catch up.”
“Meet me at the Horseshoe in five minutes,” I replied tersely. All of my emotions about the girl had gone into the creation of the pendant, and I could therefore permit myself to see Anastaria today. I really did need to complete that quest.
“You’re pensive today,” Anastaria remarked glibly, settling down across from me. “Has your mail boom begun?”
“Among other things, among other things,” I muttered, still thinking about the Artificers. What’s the difference between Crafting and Artifice? I had created many items, but for instance, I hadn’t received any boost to Artifice for the Chess Set—that had only increased my crafting. Meanwhile, the Cursed Chess Set had increased Artifice—but Crafting had grown too. The Amulet of the Novice had earned me the Artificer’s polarity, but the Kameamia had only increased my Crafting stat. The principle for distributing stat points for crafted items was completely lost on me, a realization that upset me quite a bit.
“Will you make us a pendant?” Anastaria continued to pry. “We spend too much Energy on our conversations. I told Kreel, that you’re in the game, so he decided to storm the Shadow Dragon today. Did he get in touch with you?”
“No to both questions,” I replied. “The High Priestess might consider our use of the pendants as a sign of weakness between us. She’ll think that the Ying-Yang has stopped working and we’ve begun to use another item. Who knows what’s in her head? Did you speak with Kreel?”
“About three minutes ago.”
“In that case I’ll…”
The first proxy server has been breached.
A notification appeared before me in the form of a bright panel with an alert text. The panel was so unlike the typical Barliona UI that it was immediately clear that this was one of the homebrewed additions to my capsules made by Omega. The same kind that mothers would use to set up reminders for their playing children that they needed to do their homework, eat dinner, clean up their rooms or stop pick their noses—thereby reminding them of their real life duties in game. My capsule just did the same thing—it was time to stop bumbling about and exit the game.
“In that case you’ll what?” Anastaria asked—but I didn’t feel like answering anymore. One of the seven servers had been breached. At the fifth one, I’d be disconnected from the game and the sixth proxy would be physically destroyed to prevent the hackers from identifying my location. But who was trying to find me? Anastaria? The old man? The Corporation? I opened my mailbox and quickly began to scan it, ignoring Anastaria’s grumbling in the background. It’s very likely that whoever was looking for me had written me a letter first. Spam. Spam. Quest request. Quest request. Sorting and automatic processing. Spam! Empty.
“Has something happened?” Anastaria asked in such a crooning, honeyed voice that my tooth began to ache.
The second proxy server has been breached.
That was fast! I forced myself to stay in Barliona through sheer force of will, wanting to see how quickly they’d get the third box too. I need to understand how much time I have after the first server is breached before I have to leave the game. Thirty seconds per server is a bit too fast. I couldn’t do that even at the height of my career as a programmer.
The third proxy server has been breached.
“Say something, Dan,” a note of worry sounded in Anastaria’s voice.
“Sorry—I have to go. It’s an emergency,” I blurted out and pushed the ‘Exit’ button. Three servers isn’t scary—the proxy array can be rebuilt. But I’m not happy to know that someone is actively looking for me—if they’re looking, that means they’ve lost me.
My cocoon’s lid slid aside, allowing me to crawl out. I walked over to my coffee table with the ancient rotary phone and picked up the handset.
“This is the Omega operator.”
“Hi, this is Daniel Mahan speaki
ng. Some unknown intruder just hacked three of the servers in the proxy array you set up for my connection to Barliona. I need a new array within the next ten minutes. Is this possible?”
“A new array can be arranged in fifteen minutes. The old one has already been destroyed. Is five minutes critical for you?”
“No, that’s okay. We can do fifteen. Tell me, is there any recourse available? Against the hacker, I mean? Report him to the police for example?”
“The attack stopped as soon as you exited the game. It is no longer possible to trace his connection. Do you wish to subscribe to an additional service that will monitor the servers you use?”
“What service?”
“We offer round the clock connection monitoring and transmit a report to the police as soon as we identify where the attack is coming from. In that case, you won’t have to exit the game—the longer you remain in Barliona the better our chances of catching the attacks will be. The service costs three million credits per month.”
“I’ll take it,” I instantly made up my mind. “Send me the invoice and I’ll pay it.”
“One of our associates will stop by tomorrow morning for your digital signature. Our security policy prohibits us from using the account you used to pay for your disappearance, but the new service will become effective this instant. May I help you with anything else?”
“Yes,” I said, not even knowing why. “I’d like to get my hands on a Jeweler’s toolkit that resembles the one that’s available in the rehab center.”
“Just a minute…Could you tell me which category of toolkit you need?”
“Erm…I don’t understand the question.”
“There are three types of Jewelry toolkits. The first and most basic is no more than a small box with wire and a rod.”
“A mandrel,” I corrected the operator.
“Yes, forgive me. I’m not familiar with Jewelry argot. The second set, the most popular, includes several types of fastenings and blanks for cutting gems. The third and most advanced, includes all of the above as well as a miniature anvil, molds for pouring rings and many other things. As I’m sure you understand, the various sets’ prices vary a great deal. The first costs three thousand, the second twenty and the third a hundred and forty.”
“I’ll take the third one,” I said after a moment’s thought. It’s amazing how adept the Corporation has become at earning money from players not just in game but in reality as well. Do you like working with your hands? Then pay us first and on you go!
“Okay. You will have it tomorrow. Will there be anything else?”
“No that’s it. Thank you. I’ll be waiting for the next uplink.”
“All the best. Thank you for using our services.”
The line went dead, so I replaced the handset and sat down in an armchair. The desire to get my hands on a Jeweler’s toolkit of my own had cropped up back when I’d first seen it at the rehab center. Back then I had managed to create a very appealing ring from wire, but I wanted to see what else all my in-game abilities and skills were good for. The possibility of transferring skills and abilities earned in Barliona into reality had long been a hot topic. No doubt someone had already written their doctoral thesis on it, and yet it wasn’t the theory that concerned me right now. I simply wanted to have a Jeweler’s toolkit of my own. Two years ago I wouldn’t even imagine that I’d calmly part with 140,000 credits on a whim. Say what you like, but if it wasn’t for that encounter with Marina, who knows what my life would look like right now. I’d probably be a simple freelance artist, spending several hours a day in the game, too meek to even glance in the direction of the Imperial palace. Money sure does have an effect on people. It makes them more unfettered, independent, free. It makes them want more from life! That’s the right way to put it—the more money you have, the more you want. Right! I seem to be getting carried away with all the philosophy. Before desiring something more, I had to solve several problems. As soon as I solve them, I’ll be able to start thinking about my future. At the moment, my capsule awaits—a new uplink to Barliona, a new proxy array, that loathsome Anastaria, that mysterious hacker, my meeting with Marina and the raid with Kreel into his Dungeon. I don’t have time to desire anything right now.
Enter!
Anastaria was no longer in the Golden Horseshoe, but no one had touched the food I’d ordered. I bet there’s some period of time during which the player can exit to reality without losing his table or the food he’d bought. Pouring myself a glass of some glowing liquid, I reclined in my chair and waited for the next attack. I didn’t doubt for a second that it would come. Someone really wanted to find me.
The first proxy server has been breached.
One minute.
The second proxy server has been breached.
One minute.
The third proxy server has been breached.
One minute.
The fourth proxy server has been breached.
One minute. A minute and a half. Two minutes. Five minutes. Silence.
You will be disconnected from the game in 5…4…3…
So the fifth proxy has fallen as well. For the second time today, I watched the cocoon’s lid slide aside, ushering me to reality where, on the coffee table, the rotary phone was already ringing. Last time, as I recall, it was I who’d made the call.
“Hello, Daniel! This is the Omega operator. We have located the hacker and sent a police squad to their location. Your new uplink to Barliona will be ready in 15 minutes.”
“You located him? But he would have been working through his own proxy array. You breached all his proxies too? Who was he?”
“That is correct. In this instance, the intruder was using an array of twelve proxies. A block of this dozen was recycled in a circuit through itself. With that said, we managed to identify the source connection—or rather, the two source connections, as there were two hackers working in tandem to find you. Their identities remain unknown to us at the moment, but as soon as the police apprehend them, we will let you know their names. We wish to apologize once again about the inconvenience and we hope that next time we will be able to identify them by the time they breach the third proxy. Good bye!”
Two hackers? A block of the array cycled through itself? What was she talking about? What’s the point of setting up an array of a dozen servers if it only took 3–4 minutes to reach the most secure, second one? If anything, such an array could only elude automatic countermeasures…And a circuit block? Well, that’s simply a fairy tale. If a server is breached even once, it’s a cinch to determine all its open ports and corresponding connections. And in that case, the idea of a closed circuit loses all purpose. I get the impression that either Omega is keeping mum about something, or the hackers looking for me are a bunch of script kiddies. This is definitely not the Corporation. Nor Anastaria. The only conclusion that makes sense is that it’s the old man. But why would he go about it so bluntly? I can’t understand it. The whole picture just doesn’t gel.
Enter!
Once again I found myself on my own in the Golden Horseshoe with the table and food before me. Only this time, there were no notifications about a breach. Half an hour went by until it became clear that my pursuers had left me alone. For the time being.
“Hi,” I got up from the table and greeted Mirida when she was ushered in. It had been a long time since I saw her last! The Level 196 Elf was dressed in a gorgeous evening dress as if she were headed to a high society reception. I had to give the Golden Horseshoe’s Imitator his due—he knew how to pick the appropriate outfit for his guests. “You look great!”
“Thank you,” Marina smiled, taking the seat across from me. “The local Imitator really knows his job! Your smoking jacket fits you very well too, by the way.”
I glanced at my outfit and noted its tight cut. I’d been going to the Horseshoe so frequently lately that I’d stopped paying attention to the alterations that the establishment made to its patrons’ appearances.
“C
ute dragon you got there,” Marina smiled again, indicating my projection. My little Shaman had just finished an apple and was now licking his fingers clean. “Tell me, what do I have to do to join your clan? Is there some competition, or do you just take applicants pell-mell?”
“Pell-mell. I see you’ve gained quite a few levels since our last encounter. As I recall it, you were at Level 98 back in Beatwick? Or was it 89? Either way, you definitely weren’t at a hundred, while now you’re pushing Level 200…How’d you do it?”
“When the high-level players started to mess around with the transformed mobs back in Beatwick, I was in the same group as you. I was gaining level after level. Before I knew it, I was at Level 130. Don’t you remember the time we ran into each other at the Emperor’s audience? After that, it was one quest here, another quest there. I helped Reptilis a bit and he helped me. In general, I’m not sure myself how it happened.”
“Listen, I’m tremendously sorry, but I really didn’t have the chance to meet up with you earlier. I was desperately short for time until recently. And in addition to that, at first I completely refused to accept that you had reappeared.”
“Me?”
“The girl who caused all of this,” I spread my arms. “Basically, if they hadn’t stuffed me into a prison capsule, I’d still be a simple Hunter. So, formally speaking, I should thank you. Plus, you really helped me out several times after Beatwick. Especially when you warned me about the attack.”
“Ah Beatwick,” the girl smiled. “When I sent my Fluffy against the Sclik, I didn’t even consider the consequences. How could a high-level mob even show up in a location limited to Level 30 players? A Sclik! For him, Fluffy was no more than a morsel. If it weren’t for you, I’d have to level up my little tiger all over again—as it stands, he’s now at Level 117. By the way, I never told you why I came to you in Beatwick.”
The Way of the Shaman [06] Shaman's Revenge Page 21