“So what about the ring?”
“What ring?”
“Some bonuses would also wait for you, o liberator. But these are not specified. It is unlikely that an artifact ax would suddenly fall upon your head, however. So it will probably not be material. A bonus to the slaughter of monsters and so on – you yourself know. And that’s basically it. But this is more than generous.”
“I agree. From all this, I get the fact that something will try to kill me.”
“So far we only know that. But most likely, this will not happen either.”
“And what would the one who would steps on Zar’Graad first receive?”
“So what’s up with the bone ring?”
“It would be you, as far as I could remember, who would set foot on the wet coastal sand of the lost continent. How would your gifts surpass mine? Minus the lack of impending death?”
“Hoping for the best.”
“I see. And how do I activate the magic? This is in the books, surely.”
“It isn’t. It was said — the Great Navigator would tell you. So wait for the light and sound effects from your miracle magic.”
“Hmm … but if this place I must go to is just a step away from the shore?” I looked at the Baroness. “Huh? If suddenly there is a magic veil, through which only the Navigator could pass. And there, a step away from the shore, I would read the spell, and the veil would scatter ...”
“Then you would wait for me,” the girl smiled.
“Right. Like a fool I would. I would rather stand on the dry sand and wait for you.”
“Ros!”
“And there, after all, hovering in the air like mosquitoes are the achievements — oh, you spoiled the air for the first time in Zar’Graad! — Here is an achievement and a collector’s fart in a jar. Oh, you stumbled — for the first time in Zar’Graad! — Here is the achievement and the imprint of your face in the sand. Collectible! Ah, some Black Baroness suffocates there, in the bushes – the first time in Zar’Graad! — There you are…”
“Ros!”
“To sing so well? What a wonderful voice! For the first time in Zar’Graad!”
“Have you decided to make a fool of me? Especially about the first step on land! — This is not a joke at all!”
“I gave you specific information, with numbers,” I replied, serious. “How certain fish swim, how they attack. My info is accurate and dry as a doctor’s prescription! And you gave me a bunch of noodles about universal evil, about the bonuses that may be given, and how maybe they would not! To be honest — I myself could think it up in a couple of minutes. Where are the facts, BB? Where is my info? Accurate, proven with figures and graphs. Where is everyone? Your analysts counted every spent mana bottle in the ship’s data. I thought that you would give me the same type of information. But instead you gave me a cup of coffee, a bottle of wine, a white raincoat and a collection of fairy tales. Oh! You already took the cloak back… Where is the folder?”
“What?
“The folder, I say, where is it? I know that it exists. It must. In an archive somewhere. But you dare not give it to me. Why? I am just wondering — why is everyone given the papers, but I am only verbally being told? I am waiting ...”
“I…”
“The folder,” I repeated. “Either give it to me, or refuse. And this ends the conversation.”
“Of course. A deal is a deal,” said the slightly embarrassed Baroness. “But I have not told you everything yet … but since you’re in such a hurry ...”
“Oh yeah? Well, Lizanna is just about to knock on our door. She is riding in the Fatal Passion after all. That’s why I am pressing. The folder, please ...”
The head of the Sleepless lifted her hand, and Klest put a thin gray folder in it. Above the sign of the Sleepless clan was the table of contents: “Material and intangible values and penalties that could be obtained by the Great Navigator after the activation of the unique incantation spell.”
“Terrifically short name.”
“Thanks.”
I stepped forward and took up the corner of the folder. “I am glad that you keep promises. As always. Well, time to open it ...”
“I have not yet told you everything,” the girl reminded me.
“Yeah, I heard. Now, the coffee and rum and I will get acquainted. Thank you for your time.”
After a moment I had the documents. Taking a mug of coffee from the railing, I headed to my corner. Klest gazed at the Baroness, looking somewhat … embarrassed. It was intriguing. Did he manage to do something? Or did he not have time to? The fact was that I did not specifically mention the folder until the last moment, and did not even give a hint that I could suddenly ask for a written explanation. He could pull out a few sheets, of course. But…
I opened the folder, and a smile appeared on my lips. There were several sheets of paper inside. But I was very interested in the very first. Tight scripted, wide, covered with numbered items. The archivists overdid it — they even got a separate sheet for each item. And they reduced everything to one page. In order to be able to view them with one glance, operational reports were given in such a format when there was no time to flip through the pages. And then I dropped my gaze — and found out the basic information. If Klest had to take out something, this was it. And then he would snatch a few more pages, which gave the detailed description. But he obviously did not have time.
The first lines were already known by me. Small bonuses, achievement, collectible figurines.
The last line was also well-known. This was about the great possible evil, and about the dozen teleportation jumps. So, that meant the information was actually received recently. They had written it last.
But the information in the middle intrigued me.
To begin with, the discoverer of Zar’Graad was still the Great Navigator, and not the one who first set foot on land. Because I would bring everyone to the mainland. I was a pioneer.
And therefore it was the Great Navigator who would have the honor to establish the very first camp! Not a city, not an official town. Just a camp. And temporary.
I should choose a place somewhere on the beach — it was a MUST.
In a deep bay, that could be a port for large ships — this was necessary.
With an abundant source of fresh water — and this was necessary.
With the “nature-abundant” ocean floor behind the bay — a camp was needed for the Achilots, too.
Then I would put my finger in the right place (maybe I will kick my foot or do something loud), after which a certain mystical connection would be established between the two continents. And very soon the most powerful wizards of Valdira would gather in a large circle, inside of which there would be various important personalities. The spell would to Zar’Graad selected “local “people to Zar’Graad, and only “locals”. Thus, Zar’Graad would receive a faction from the old continent. They would immediately begin to give out tasks, and they would ask for protection from any threats. They would put up tents and build towers, exterminate and catch monsters, bring them to the newly arrived alchemists, deliver them samples of trees and so on and so forth. Just like England came to America and called it her colony. Except for England things did not end very well.
For this duty, I would not get anything. Well, they could give me a memorable achievement. And a plus to reputation with the arrived “locals”. I would also receive one special privilege, which was the next point. It seemed like nothing special. But for some reason, the entire sheet describing the base of the camp was stricken with red lines and bold-red exclamation marks. And below this was inscribed by hand: “Study thoroughly! Everything, immediately! BB” and a short hard signature just below. Directly the tsar’s decree…
I command a new castle here! Signed, the Empress. Black Busia. The first.
It was indicated that the information was obtained from the Guild of Magicians of Algora and the Royal Palace, who were keenly interested in the possibilities of masterin
g new and previously inaccessible territories. This was already very high policy.
What was the benefit for Sleepless? I would not be responsible. I’d go ashore, get a request from the gaming system and stamp my foot. Let the “locals” come, I did not care. Although I understood that this was the “old faction” – and if Zar’Graad had its own civilization, genocide may also begin …
It was clear that the old continent would not leave the new continent alone. They were bound to come here.
Maybe the Baroness needed a special place?
Or did she want to base the camp as far as possible from the location of the main forces of the players? So that there was only Sleepless access to the “locals” for the first few days?
My head began to ache. Never mind. One thing was certain — the Baroness was interested. Now looked like she was huddling at the table with some cards, throwing evil looks my way. For some reason, Klest hung his nose sadly.
What else?
And the last thing. On Zar’Graad, it was impossible to found a new clan. There was no necessary infrastructure there. But soon after the appearance of the “old faction” I would receive an invitation from them to create a new clan, the first that would be created only on the new mainland.
If I gave up the privilege of creating the first Zar’Graad clan, this function would become open and available to all players.
That was it. The Baroness did not tell me only two of the points.
And what did we have in the end?
More confusion and more complication. I expected to bring the ships to the mainland, to read the spell with a tremor in my voice, to receive the last portion of my deserved and undeserved fame, and then resolutely and immediately plunge into deep shadow. The surge of general interest generated by the opening of a new continent, a new huge playground, would securely close down the popularity of my humble person. Zar’Graad would quickly light up new stars.
My main task was Roska.
Therefore, I first wanted to find out how quickly the gods would reach new lands and whether it was more advantageous for Roska was to stay on the old continent, tempering in the crucible of war, or to stay on the new continent and increase her importance here. While it was too early to predict this — perhaps Zar’Graad had its own gods. After finding and awakening Anrull it was quite possible. The developers were happy to throw more and more new ingredients into the boiling broth, and maybe they did not understand what would happen to this “soup” further — but they did not care, because the global war would write everything off. Five gods, ten, twenty — it did not matter. Let them cling to them like spiders in a jar and at the end there would be only a specified amount. Therefore, you could expect everything.
In short, I had problems through the roof. And new complications.
The foundation of the temporary camp was logical — it was the transfer of some old spiders into a new jar. There would be some magician with a determined character and desire to exterminate all aliens … and there would be players running around with axes for the local natives, if such were found. I am not a genius or even a sage, but I am ready to bet five real teeth of my own that some new local race would show up. Not people, not elves, not half-orcs, not gnomes, not Achilots and not bog creatures, and not even kobolds or other inhabitants of the old continent. They may be there, why not, but in addition to them there would be some totally different, intelligent beings. And maybe more than one race — two, three, four new races! And soon they would be involved.
Could it be reasonable to try and shove Roska into this chaos? I’d ask Orbit for help. We’d separate ourselves completely from the Sleepless, we would plunge into new waters, so to speak … at the same time, we would go on many new adventures.
And everything perfectly fitting — we would collect the bonuses, we would base the clan, we would build a couple of huts, and then start to “lift up” Roska.
Again my head hurt.
Establish a camp, refuse to create a clan, take Roska in our arms, go to the same place, find out the plans of my friends, and then return home – to the old continent. The plans I had then were huge. If I needed even more money – the Baroness would pay for my intercontinental taxicab.
Naykal … that’s where I was being drawn. There was much unfinished business there. But now there were already two gods looking for a third god! And Tishka…
For me, the choice was determined by the following: where did I have more opportunities to raise Roska? Or at least, to save her from death. The Silver Legend was secondary. Although desirable.
My head was cracking… I was starting to sort out the variations with an attempt to determine their importance, and so it immediately became blurry before my eyes. Who wants to work as an analyst by his own will? After all, this was a permanent headache and a toothache together. Imagine, listening to the boss’s cry of “Results ?! Forecasts ?!Percentages of success?” Who liked that?
“Huhhhh …” I stretched out, putting the folder away from me, indicating that I had finished reading.
The documents instantly evaporated — Klest cleared the folder immediately, as in their time, brave heroes threw themselves on chests, in from of the rattling machine gun. A folder could be more dangerous than a machine gun– for the virtual world, anyway. He took the papers and immediately went away, carrying the papers to the luminous crystal of local teleportation. Was he bringing the documents to armored storage? Maybe … I would not need them anymore. The most important things, I remembered.
“Huhhhh …” I repeated.
“What?” the Baroness materialized by the door, deftly pouring me coffee from a large silver jug. ”Did you want shortbread? We have it! With nuts...”
“And how long did you want to remain silent?” I asked, looking up at a beautiful bird flying overhead.
“About the camp and the clan?”
“Yeah.”
“This information did not affect the trip itself.”
“I agree. I do not blame you. I am just asking. After all, I am being affected directly.”
“Ros, you know only the smallest part.”
“How long did you want to keep silent?”
“Give me a sec…”
Taking advantage of the lightning speed of her ninja class, the Baroness rushed to a table and back. The jug disappeared, but she got a big cup of tea and a crumpet.
“Would you treat me to spaghetti again?”
“I can only cook in real life. In Valdira, eggs cannot be broken … I am joking, of course, but I did not go farther than frying meat and marshmallow on fire. So how long were you going to keep silent?”
“Mmm … I wanted to start the conversation tomorrow, maybe the day after tomorrow, if there were too many new troubles or threats.”
“I would, but I cannot.”
“We need this camp. This is another of our clues on the new continent. A strong hook. Did you want to talk and bargain now?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I do not want to. I will think it over, scratch the back of my head, and then, if I am ripe, Let us talk. While time suffers.”
“How long would I have to endure?”
“I do not want to talk about it yet,” I repeated. “Why did you want to turn me into a ship’s engine? Why be so harsh? To pull my fangs out, remove my claws, and castrate me at the same time — that time we bought a nice house kitten … oh, why is he looking at us so angrily? I like that he doesn’t tear the curtains, does not bite anybody, that he is not sharpening his claws. So why?”
“It was mean, right?”
“Well … you said so, yourself.”
“Oof … remember the complaining analyst?”
“Who dreams of knowing the power of your kick and whip? I remember. He was crying pitifully.”
“I punished him for that. He will not complain any more. But after your full-time meeting, he said: you cannot curb this type. At least, as long as he had the strength in his hands… and he said … because you prefer to l
ive in your mind and walk your own path. And while you have enough strength to hold a machete in your hands and cut your way through the world’s jungle yourself, you will do so, refusing the help of others, wanting to depend on no one. Strong, stiff, secretive and at the same time sparking, if touched. In a word: flint.
“Wow,” it was my turn to admit. “Can you repeat these words to my father? Only word for word.”
“That’s why he suggested cutting your wings and removing your testicles …”
“I changed my mind.”
“Ros, you are too cool — be proud. People shoot guys like you in the real world. It is easier that way. But here, if you die, you will come back!”
“Huh … and you aren’t sorry?”
“I made the decision,” said she. “But I gave the order to find a way to return you, in advance. So that you would not forever purr without your testosterone ...”
“And thank you very much for that. And why were you doing this to me? Because we did not agree?”
“You agreed to our offer for one reason — that you did not have any money, and you wanted to earn honestly. And so you signed a contract with us. By the way, is this true?”
“What?”
“Our analysts said that most likely it was a tactic.”
“What was?”
“When you learned the spell, you did not advertise yourself to the whole world Valdira, did not scream at every intersection. On the contrary — you were lying low! Another would have already arranged a tender … but you lay down on the bottom. You arranged a scavenger hunt. Whoever gets to you first, whoever is the first to reveal your identity, to know your name — that clan is the most skillful, strong, clever and, therefore, the most worthy of trading with. Others say — you just scored on the spell and continued to live quietly on your own by accident…”
“Yes… and what about the castration?”
“It is cruel, Ros, but the more helpless a person was, the more he depends on you— the easier it is for you to manipulate him, the easier it is to impose your opinion and worldview on him. And less often does he show his fangs. You are now rich. You may want to screw off immediately after the contract is completed. Who would stop you from hanging out with the Architects? Or with other powerful clans? With us, the boring Sleepless. I am especially afraid that you would ask my brother about our tactics. Orbit would tell you right away — I will certainly beat him for it later, but what is the use? It would be too late. If I had cut your wings, perhaps you would be kinder.”
The Way of the Clan 9 Page 17