The Road East (Epic LitRPG Adventure - Book 2) (Fayroll)

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “Hey,” I asked, “will you be going by the Fattah Oasis?”

  Sophius looked at the map. “Yes, we won’t be far at all.”

  “You’ll probably get there around Friday morning, right?”

  “Something like that, yes,” said Sophius after another glance at the map. “We’ll be making stops along the way, otherwise we could just port to Al-Arda. If we can find dungeons and other adventures along the way, we’ll give them a try. We’re itinerant knights, after all.”

  “Good for you. Okay, then I’ll join the convoy on Friday.”

  “Great. When we stop for the night on Thursday, I’ll send you a message. I’ll let you know if we get held up or go a different way, too, of course.”

  “Thanks,” I said with complete sincerity. “I didn’t expect you to be so accommodating.”

  “There are all different types of people in the game,” the knight mused philosophically. “We aren’t all just in it for ourselves.”

  He clanged off down the stairs, leaving me to head up in the opposite direction. I thought to myself how easy it was to do things with knights. They were frank, and most of them were just good people.

  I walked into my room, assigned my attribute points, and sat down to think about my abilities. Serpent’s Tooth was a great one, but I had to forget one of my other skills if I wanted to use it. In the end, I settled on the one I used least of all: Strength of Fire.

  Strength of Fire was removed from your active abilities.

  You can learn it again for free from any of the warrior instructors as needed.

  Then I sorted through the ten or so items I’d collected. Some, I decided to sell, and set off to the side, while the others, I dropped into my chest as a reserve in case I was killed later. I couldn’t spend my whole life in the game waltzing around in Willie’s exotic rags. It was no longer the place, and I’d grown out of them. I dropped the sword Reineke gave me in there, as well. He and I shared a reticence to part with weapons that had served us well. I stared at Lichtenshtain’s shield for a while, but I couldn’t bring myself to risk using it. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I lost it.

  Once all that was done, I logged out of the game with a conscience clear after a long and interesting day—not to mention, a very successful one.

  The next morning, I left for the office. Vika hadn’t stayed the night, having told me that she hadn’t seen her sister in three days. I suspected that the real reason was that she was in no hurry to announce our relationship to the rest of the office. Good call. Someone was obviously keeping Raidion informed, though I didn’t yet know who.

  We worked hard sorting through the information Diana sent us. And, just as the brothers had promised, by 1 p.m. the Raidion security officer arrived. He was a good-looking guy at first glance, aged maybe 50, and he had an incredibly compassionate face bathed in a saintly expression and ruddy whiskers. In fact, he was so sickly sweet that, if I’d had a pistol with me, I’d have had it cocked and loaded. He even had the perfectly odd last name of Figlich.

  The next hour and a half were spent getting badgered with all kinds of questions about my family, life, and viewpoints. I did my best to answer in monosyllables, realizing that anything I said could be misinterpreted or twisted and used against me by the slippery customer across from me. Of course, I had the twin granite towers of Zimin and Valyaev standing between him and me, but still…

  I signed reams of papers—non-disclosures, conservation notices, non-competes—until finally, he left and I could wash my hands. The nagas in the cave weren’t nearly as revolting as that cloying gentleman.

  At the end of the day, after we’d already finished laying out that week’s issue, I called Zimin and told him about Figlich’s visit. Before we hung up, I had one more thing to say, “I saw Wanderer, by the way.”

  “Really? The one who got the crown from you?” asked Zimin with surprise. “In Selgar?”

  “Yup.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, somewhat at a loss for words. “He just said he was happy to see me and wanted to talk. We chatted about a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “He told me how to get to the North,” I said, only barely lying.

  “You think you’ll be sent north later?” asked Zimin slyly. “Why not south?”

  “No, it’ll be north,” I said confidently. “Simple logic.”

  Zimin laughed, which put me at ease. I had no desire to screw over Wanderer, but I was positive Zimin was already aware of our meeting. And, if that was true, there was no point not scoring a few points with the guys upstairs.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “That was pretty much it,” I answered, sniffing. “He said I should go through the pass—it’s longer, but it’s safer there.

  “He’s right,” said Zimin after a pause. “The mines are a nasty place.”

  “Like Snakeville?” I couldn’t help but ask, and I couldn’t help the accusatory tone that crept into my voice either.

  “Who said you had to go there?” noted Zimin reasonably. “Everyone said not to, but no, you’re too stubborn for that!”

  “I know; it’s my fault.”

  “Quite.” Zimin, satisfied, changed the subject. “How’s the second issue coming?”

  “Already laid out, so it’ll be ready.”

  We chatted for a little while longer until, just as I was ready to hang up, Zimin surprised me. “I’m really glad you called me, Kif. On Thursday, we’re going to have something important for you, so stop by Raidion tomorrow at around 11, and tell the girls at reception that you’re there to see me. Oh, and bring your passport with you. Will you be driving?”

  “No, I’ll take the metro. My car bit the dust a while ago, before I joined the army. It’s just me and my two legs now.”

  “You haven’t bought a new one?” Zimin was taken aback.

  “Oh, there’s always something.” I wasn’t about to lie. “It’s usually that I don’t have the money.”

  “Okay, I’ll send a car to pick you up from home.”

  “No, don’t worry about it; I’m fine with the metro.” I even felt a little awkward. “Plus, I’ll be coming from the office.”

  “Stop it. I said I’ll send a car, so that’s what’s going to happen.” Zimin finished the conversation abruptly and hung up.

  And, send a car he did. When Vika found out where I was going and who I’d be seeing there, she looked at me for a second in shock before diving into my closet to find a suit I’d forgotten I had. I’d only worn it three times: twice to weddings and once to a funeral. She ironed it and made me wear a tie.

  My staff looked at me askance when I walked in wearing a suit, and they weren’t the only ones. The rat met me in the hallway, her expression changed, and she mumbled, “Good afternoon, Nikifor…um…Nikifor…” She couldn’t remember the rest of my name and jumped into the nearest office.

  Our security guard also had a chance to ponder my newfound status when a VW Phaeton arrived for me. To be honest, I was just as impressed as he was.

  I wouldn’t say that I was really nervous, though there was something like that. I was, after all, on my way to Raidion, the Holy of Holies for the Russian gaming industry. Five years before that point, there had been a dozen companies developing their own online games at a pretty high level. Then Raidion appeared on the market, launched a few AAA freemium games that included much more than the usual farming and “kill 20 monsters” quests. Their games were excellent, they had a great feel to them, and their graphics and plot were top notch. Raidion even hit the fine balance between players who spent money and those who didn’t, ensuring that the latter never felt seriously disadvantaged.

  Soon, they had sucked up the lion’s share of the gaming community and were ready to launch their baby: Fayroll, a game with complete immersion, incredibly innovative technology, a steep price tag, and on and on. The result was a near-complete monopoly of the o
nline gaming market. And, I didn’t doubt that it would have been a complete monopoly if the antimonopoly committee had permitted it. Instead, a few indie games fizzed and popped without ever quite dying out. There was strong suspicion that Raidion itself was the only thing keeping them afloat.

  Raidion’s offices were housed in an enormous skyscraper in Chertanovo.[14] Everything was as you’d expect: black glass, shiny metal. Everything inside was up to snuff as well, with five gorgeous, uniformed women sitting at the reception desk to greet me when I walked in. Their wispy waists and the coquettish scarves on their swan-like necks were a far cry from the lone girl playing on her phone other companies had to settle for.

  One of them smiled at me. “Good afternoon, my name is Svetlana. How can I help you? Are you here to see someone?”

  “My last name is Nikiforov,” I said, doing my best not to stare at the girl’s chest, which was front and center. “I’m here to see Max Zimin, he said he’d be expecting me.”

  When they heard the last name “Zimin” coupled with the familiar “Max,” all five of the girls stared at me with smiles plastered on their faces. I found a couple of those smiles rather intriguing. Svetlana clicked away with her mouse.

  “Maxim Zimin is expecting you. Follow me to the elevator, please.” She stepped out from behind the desk and tapped away down the marble hall in her high heels.

  “Anytime,” I mumbled to myself as I set off behind her.

  She pressed the button for the 28th floor, just a couple down from the uppermost 30th. When we arrived, the elevator opened and we nearly walked right into Valyaev, who was stepping into it.

  “Oh, Kif, hi.” He reached out his hand, and I quickly shook it. “How are things? Going to see Max?”

  “Yup. Do you know what he wants to see me about?” I decided to just behave as I normally as possible. It’s good to be flexible, but usually, it’s best to just be yourself. I also noticed that the friendly manner with which Valyaev and I were talking had made a strong impression on the girl from the front desk. She was standing there trying to figure out who I was, even as I was thinking about something similar, if different: who were Valyaev and Zimin? I’d checked the internet but couldn’t find anything besides official press releases.

  “Nothing to worry about. He has something small for you to do, though it’s pretty important,” Valyaev answered.

  “Okay, I have things to do up to here, so I’m off.” He gestured with his chin, shook my hand, and pressed the elevator button.

  “Follow me.” The girl retook control and walked me to a pair of oak doors featuring Zimin’s name.

  “This way.” She opened the doors, and I was just about to suggest knocking when I saw that we were in an enormous waiting room. A huge desk was stuck smack dab in the middle of it for some reason, and a drop-dead gorgeous woman I thought might be around thirty was sitting behind it working at a computer.

  “Eliza, good afternoon,” said Svetlana softly from behind my back. “A visitor for Maxim Zimin.”

  “Name?” the beauty asked coldly.

  “Nikiforov, Harriton,” I reported.

  “What time is your meeting?”

  “I’m not sure. He asked me to stop by around eleven and sent a car for me.” I sucked in my stomach and pulled my eyes back in from orbit.

  “I see.” Eliza’s voice came alive as she smiled at me. “The newspaper editor, right?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “From the Fayroll Times.”

  “Ah-ha!” I heard the girl from reception breathe a sigh of relief. She had indeed been trying to figure out who I was.

  “You can go in. He said to send you in as soon as you got here,” Eliza said, pointing to the door.

  I walked over and was suitably impressed by the door itself. It was wooden, though I’d never seen such an incredibly rich brown color, such gorgeous patterned inserts, or such flawless workmanship. I knocked and went in.

  In contrast to my expectations, the office wasn’t that big. It was smaller even than the waiting room. On the other hand, it had a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out on Moscow’s industrial sector.

  “Kif, my man, good to see you.” Zimin got up from the desk he was writing at, walked over, and shook my hand. “I’ve been expecting you; there’s something I need you to do.”

  “Just say the word,” I said obediently.

  “Excellent.” He patted me on the shoulder. “It’s nothing too difficult.”

  “I’m all ears.” I put a look of complete concentration on my face and prepared to listen.

  From the second edition of the Fayroll Times:

  From the editor.

  …and the kids’ brains are turning to mush from all these games. At its core, that’s a misguided notion. Your brain can turn to mush from a monotonous job, from a lack of knowledge, or from your own laziness. Games demand extreme concentration, they tax your mental abilities, and they force you to communicate with other players. That’s not what turns brains to mush.

  Classes: which one is right for you?

  Mages, Part 2.

  There aren’t any dark mages in the game. Or, to be more precise, players don’t have access to that class or any others like it. The only death knights and witchers you’ll meet are non-player characters. Sure, many players would like to try their hand at the dark side, but at this point, they can only play characters on the light side. The only option is to go with a class in between the dark and light sides like a shaman or druid.

  History and Creation of the World:

  Elves and dwarves fought for long ages in an effort to determine which of them would be the favorites of the gods. That was good enough for the gods, as the feud between the two powerful races led to more prayers being offered up.

  Big Happenings in the World:

  …tried a ruse. Using the Curtains of Invisibility spell, the Hounds of Death rolled three siege towers right up to the walls of the Wild Hearts’ castle, which resulted in its collapse.

  Excerpts from the Fayroll Chronicle:

  The Dreamweavers announced that they were raising the level required for players to join their clan. The threshold had been Level 25, and now volunteers must be at Level 30 or higher. Clan leadership attributed the move to the fact that it is climbing the leaderboard.

  A standoff between Gunther von Richter, an NPC, and a player named Svarozhich ended in a duel. The conflict centered on Krolina, a player von Richter claimed was the “queen of love and beauty.” The two crossed swords in pursuit of the truth. The duel lasted around 15 minutes without a winner being declared, at which point the player put down his sword. “Forget this. I don’t even know her, so she’s welcome to the title. Let’s go have some beer.” Having reconciled their differences, the duelists drank nearly all the beer at the local tavern before tearing the place apart in wild carousing.

  Bottomless Stomach, a drinking competition put on as usual by the Beerdrinkers, was won for the third time in a row by Wild Willie from the Messengers clan. The winner drank a three-gallon cask of beer in one sitting, after which he stood up and even did a little dance.

  As we mentioned in our last issue, yet another flotilla set sail for the shores of Rivenholm. Sadly, it found its way only to the bottom of the sea. On the fourth day out of the harbor, they were attacked by a pirate armada under the command of the infamous Admiral Van Dreek. The pirates outmaneuvered the flotilla and separated the players’ ships before sinking them one by one. Still, Rivenholm awaits, and we are sure that fleets will one day fight through storms and danger to arrive on its shores.

  Chapter Twenty

  In which the hero, he thinks, finally closes in on his goal.

  “So I don’t need you to do anything that complicated, though it’s really important.” Zimin gestured toward a chair in the corner of the office and sat down in another right next to it. “Want a drink, by the way? As a not-very-realistic character once said in a book, ‘What sort of wine do you like at this time of day?’”

&nbs
p; “No, thanks,” I said. “I don’t drink this early. I’m not a big fan in general either, to be honest.”

  “Maybe tea or coffee?” Zimin was the picture of courtesy.

  “Thanks, I’m fine. Really. You have me on the edge of my seat, though, so what do you need me to do?”

  “Here it is.” Zimin crossed his legs. “This evening around nine you need to head over to Ibrahim’s dukhan in Selgar. You can’t miss it.”

  “The one next to the auction, right?”

  “Look at you! Well done. Exactly. Sit down, order something, and wait.”

  “For what?”

  “Not for what; for whom,” Zimin said pointedly. “There’s a 50/50 chance a player will stop by and try to get to know you. Your job is to introduce yourself to him, have a few drinks…”

  “Drinks?” I’ve seen quite a few things in this life, but that was the first time I’d ever had an employer telling me to get drunk, even if it was in a game.

  “That’s probably the only way,” said Zimin with a smile. “And, he’s the kind of guy you just can’t refuse. Anyway, when he has you nice and buzzed, he’ll probably start asking you questions about the quest the dryad gave you.”

  I looked at him, startled. “But nobody knows about that…?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Zimin said. “You know, I know, and Kit knows. And what two or even three people know—”

  “I haven’t told anyone!” I did my best to clear my name, especially given the fact that it was the truth.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Zimin said gently. “It just looks like we have a leak, and Nikita and I are trying to figure out where it is. We’re pretty nervous about it.”

  I calmed down when I realized I was just the bait for the trap. That I was perfectly fine with, and I couldn’t care less about whoever they caught. That’s what they get for being a rat. I couldn’t imagine they’d actually kill him; they’d probably just beat him up a bit and maybe try to get something out of him.

  “So why don’t you have security take care of it?” I asked.

  Zimin grinned. “They’re fine when it comes to having a chat with someone or more physical confrontations, but they’re out of their depth in the game. Here, we need someone who understands the realities of the gaming world. Once we have the information from you, we’ll cut loose the dogs. So, are you all set?”