The Way of the Clan 7

by Dem Mikhaylov

  “No, I am just clarifying.”

  "You know Valdira. She is a capricious one. Give her time and perseverance - then she will give you something good. For example, there is an opportunity to change your specialization to a much more suitable one - however, it is purely peaceful. Look at the guide when you can - the Mage of the Way, it is called. Maybe you have heard of this?”

  "I've never heard of it, to be honest. But the name sounds beautiful.”

  "Of course not - the class is very unpopular. Combat and invocative spells are reduced, supporting spells are ruined just as badly, but they suffer slightly less than all the others. But pathway magic, and everything connected with it, is increased. Bridges, magical tunnels, seeking of objects hidden in the ground and water .... it is great, but it is necessary to have a team for this. The problem is that you must spend at least three or four days getting it, performing about twenty long and difficult tasks to the hundredth level of the task to get to the old elf living in the heart of Bagruhor's grove. I have a plan ready, one that is guaranteed to allow you to get to the mentor and to get a class within two and a half days, but it is non-stop, minimizing rest for sleep in real life. What do you think? Should we begin? Even before the evening, you will have to complete the first round of tasks and start the second.”

  "Two and a half days? Only for a single class?”

  “Yeah. But the bonuses there are huge - if you have the right amount of mana.”

  "I am sorry, I cannot."

  “That is what I am saying. Therefore, take what you can get, Ros. The bottle does not give much, but it can be a good complement to any other spells or reinforcements. So, it is valuable. In the evening, we will try to knock out another one. Tomorrow we will get serious about it, if you have five or six free hours to spare. You remind me of a dude who came to the gym and said - I want to be Mr. Olympic! The biggest and strongest! But I can only do it an hour a day and not more than two or three times a week… You know what I mean, Ros?”

  “Yes. Okay, I understand, I am ready withstand another barrage of scum, if this is useful and saves time. Thank you.”

  “And thank you. Do not forget to take a shower, Columbus. You smell like ....”

  The fighting magician did not finish, melting into his teleportation flash. And I also ran off, jumped for the lake and sank into the water, frightening small fishes and crustaceans. Gray ducks grunted and sailed away from me. Glancing at the townspeople - who had calmed down after the departure of the strange tramp - I thoroughly washed off the garbage. I fished a broken empty mollusk shell from my hair, which contained a large pink pearl - ha! Someone had devoured the oyster, but left the pearl, and threw it at us. I also managed to find a copper coin in a fold of my clothes. A small compensation for the shame.

  Putting myself in order, I got out on land and walked to the hotel, leaving a wet trail behind me. I could not wait any longer - my daughter was becoming more independent with each day. Soon, she would not ask for my permission for anything. I needed to get in touch with Kira and then meet with my other friends. Then, the forest of cannibals awaits me ....

  But still - I opened my messages and sent a letter to the bald seeker of adventures. I wrote the following:

  "If you manage to make me the Magician of the Way, but in such a way that I do not have to work for it for days, I will make you VIP - in return, you can have anything, whether it is a trip to Tantarial with sightseeing or a piece of a fallen god’s liver. PS: I have less than six days left, after that, the specialization cannot be changed. Good luck with a spider poet."

  The response message came quickly, and was very brief, but thoughtful:

  "Inter-rest-ting....".

  Well, I had thrown a pebble in the swamp of luck. Maybe something will come of it. Or maybe not. But I tried.

  And I should hurry - I was late. The recently arrived comrades began to message me angrily, and I hastened the step. I do not like playing a hero who thinks that everyone should wait for him. I am not a king ....

  What is a dense forest?

  I recently I asked myself this question and even went to look at the atrocity with my own eyes.

  This was a giant living horror in complete harmony with its name - Dark Edge.

  It would be better to call it an even simpler name - the Forest of Death! All at once, everything would become clear. Why mislead players, claiming that this region was just gloomy?

  The main problem was the following: there were too many problems!

  As we arrived at the meeting place, Whisper immediately stated - with the current composition of our group, the Dark Territory would mean a quick and terrible death. The spy would surely survive, but only by escape.

  Attacks should be expected from all sides - from the ground, from the side, from above. And simultaneously. The Dark Edge is certainly not the Outland, but it is not a light birch forest in the Newbie zone.

  The wild animals inhabiting the dense forest are so bloodthirsty, powerful and huge that any cargo animal, including this mammoth, can easily fall. They will knock him out and tear him up.

  The plants inhabiting the thicket are only one third normal. Two-thirds is an animated flora that loves meat. Vines, roots, stumps, and just angry tree giants with lichen beards - they are many of them and they are everywhere, and are perfectly disguised as normal flora.

  The beings inhabiting the forest are ninety percent hostile to us, and they also outnumber wild plants - otherwise they would not be able to survive here. Among these reptiles are giants, cannibals, orcs, and detachments of elves with much darker skin and angry blazing eyes. There is an army of robbers of different races, as well as a horde of wretches of deserters who are very similar to regular bandits, and who have fled.

  According to the legend of the game, for several centuries, Dark Edge withstood the army of Roghalrome, which tried to flush the gigantic forest of all the terrible filth that fills it. Soldiers burned trees, built fortifications, destroyed settlements of gigantic ogres, shot down orcs, carved up the elven renegades, hanged dozens and hundreds of armed robbers and captured deserters. And yet, over the centuries, the army did not advance or a step forward or backward - and the stalemate remains to this day. This meat grinder works at a quarter speed of regular speed, slowly grinding all living things in its jaws.

  This is the main difficulty - the number of factions within the forest is horrifying. Each of them hating the others. The same robbers and outcasts, despite their similarity, simply detest each other. Elves will never reconcile with the orcs. The giants seem to be okay with the orcs, but now and then hunger makes them attack their allies. There is plenty of loot in the forest - but you just try to kill these creatures guarding it. That is why any organized hunting in these parts is done in a huge crowd. Only at that time, do several hostile factions unite and arrange a large-scale slaughter of all they meet along the way. They call this, simply and tastefully, the Bloody Run. The hunt lasts from morning to sunset, after which the factions diverge again, a rich feast is held, and from the next morning on, they begin to cut new throats.

  The direction of the Bloody Run is decided by some special vote. It looks like a ten-kilometer strip that goes from dawn to dusk. What's in its path will be destroyed. No matter what it is. Whether a hamlet, a shopping caravan, a procession of peaceful monks or a group of "strangers".

  How did I know all this?

  Oh, everything is simple.

  I sent everyone far away, and found myself drinking.

  To be more detailed - I sent all friends, including my daughter, on an adventure riding a battle mammoth. With them I also sent Tyrant - the daughter was a member of my family, and therefore the legendary wolf did not protest. The game system welcomed such discrepancies within families - so even a husband and wife could exchange pets.

  The purpose of the adventure and more than a generous reward. Bom suggested it! Bom, appearing somewhat out of breath, but with a joyful fanged grin, offered the idea - while I, the leader,
scratched the back of my neck. Paradoxical. We were supposed to collect a bunch of strange ingredients, about three thousand pieces. There were a lot of them stashed together, but there were evil monsters wandering around the premises.

  To whom did I entrust my daughter? Officially - to Tyrant! Who else could I rely on? But this is only official. Actually, my same daughter blatantly declared, "Uncle Orbit will look after me!" The sneaky bald elf joyfully confirmed her statements, and I seethed. It was like asking one nuclear bomb to look after another.

  What was there to do?

  Roska becomes more and more unpredictable and independent by the hour. And she was a little taller - three inches precisely. Per night…. The new generation were such accelerators .... But I managed to lure her into a shop, where she happily chose some silver chain mail and high leather boots. Nothing else was necessary. I still had half an hour and so I went to another store, where I purchased four scrolls with a spell that allows me to instantly teleport to my relative. In the world of Valdira, there was only Roska. In any situation, the evil dad could be there at any time to punish those who dared to offend her.

  Then, the whole company left, having first received my assurances that I would stay within the town of Krom. I had done the most amazing thing, after all! I went into the biggest and lively restaurant of the town of Krom, spoke briefly with the owner behind the counter, then climbed onto a tall barrel and proclaimed - shouting over a common hubbub -

  “I am treating everyone at my expense!”

  The friendly roar that came in response almost knocked me off the pedestal with a shock wave. The whole crowd rushed to the counter, wooden beer mugs rattled, and the owner and three assistants were barely able to pour out the beer. All raised their mugs and proclaimed a toast for my health. I gratefully waved the mug in my hand, gradually sipping a good beer with a black stamp on the mug, depicting a winking horned elf. From the back room, a puffing chunky dwarf rolled out another large barrel with the same brand.

  Why did I suddenly decide to get drunk, instead of looking for another item from the legendary set?

  Oh, the answer is simple - I had no idea how to do it.

  Where would I begin? Journey to the village of cannibals and attempt to question them?

  Unlikely. But I was not going to delay either - I did not have any more time. Therefore, to begin with, I would take care of the questioning - that is, I would chat with the drunken peasants, soldiers, hunters, wandering merchants and circus performers. What pleased me was that there were no players in the tavern. Well, that made sense - it was daytime. Now they would be out on the slaughter. And as it gets dark, they would go and have a drink. But I would not be here by that time.

  The first half an hour I just listened, without intervening, smiling and sipping the beer. Then I began to ask leading questions, carefully mentioning important places, personalities and objects such as the "Elirna River", "Silver Legend", "silver cuirass" and so on. There were rumors in abundance, but no one even heard anything about a silver cuirass or silver hammer lost somewhere in the middle of Dark Edge. I spent two hours in the tavern, slowly pouring beer and generously spending gold, the new visitors flocking to me as honeybees. I talked with almost a hundred "locals". I heard over the edge of his ear more than three hundred conversations while walking between the tables. But all was vain. I was already desperate, my smile was faded and then my smile disappeared altogether, and my eyes bulged so much that I almost touched the person sitting in the half-meter from me with my pupils.

  A large man with a simple-minded face, drinking his ninth mug of beer, happily announced that he was from a small village Cliffside, on the Elirna River a mile from the Rock. And, he said, quite recently five aliens such as myself appeared in their village. He meant that they were visited by five players. Strangers, all as one in the same blue cloaks with a white radiant sun on it. They smiled, gave all the children sweets and fruits, handed the elders warm woolen coats with belts and rich embroidery. He gave the man a knife - the man lifted his belt and showed me a big knife in a leather sheath, with a horn handle, and a dull blade. Not too expensive, but quite worthy as weapons. Older women were given kerchiefs, and the girls - beautiful tortoiseshells.

  "They were generous, oh so generous,” said the big man as he finished his speech, and stared at the empty plate in front of him.

  Comprehending what he was going for, still not realizing that the news would be crushing, I raised my voice and proclaimed:

  “Master! Bread, meat, soup, smoked fish and meat to my friends! At my expense! And beer! More beer!”

  The friendly roar was repeated. I handed a handful of silver and gold coins to the waiter, and he ran up to the cooks, waved his hands, and the kitchen piled up the loaded trays.

  The big man happily grabbed a whole fried chicken and went on with the story: the foreigners rolled out a feast, telling them that they had committed a noble trading deal not far from here, and they were celebrating. All feasted, all drank - wine and beer was brought by strangers along with other supplies on three large wagons. And after the evening, when all were drunk and their souls were eager for revelations and conversations, strangers began to question the inhabitants of the country. First they remembered the famous warrior Grim and his combat companion Myrtle, and the villagers immediately responded, for everyone knew that the valiant warrior had perished behind the outskirts of their village, on the top of the Rock. Afterwards, the conversation turned to Grim's armor - the Silver Legend.

  It was then that I froze - the man from Cliffside had reported that one of the strangers in a blue coat was a man with a stern face, bright blue eyes and long black hair falling on broad shoulders. He showed the elders his somewhat ridiculous boots - the boots themselves were bound together with a very thick silver chain. And they themselves were of polished silver, decorated with three sharp spikes - oh, if you got a kick with that! And the strange and ridiculous name "Wolfwalk.”

  I sat, frozen to the bench, ignoring the beer and looking dumbfounded at the man. I had just been informed that some players were trying, hard, to find the Silver Legend. What is most terrible - they had chain-bound boots, and the name was "Wolfwalk.” Military footwear, combat rank, forged from silver. Fuck me ....

  The names of the guests?

  That countryman did not know. But they were generous! They promised to come again soon and to shower silver on someone who knew something about the legendary armor of Grim. Or about those who were also asking around about parts of the armor of silver.

  And this is a great joy! He said. That they promised to come back! Why? Well, after all, you - a finger pointed to my chest - after all, are you not asking about Grim and the armor? There! And I will tell them so - that a kind and generous foreigner came asking about the silver things.

  I hastened to assure him that I wished to remain anonymous, but that in general, I came from distant islands and was here only in transit, after which I would go to the northern deserts. There was no sense in my words - the "local" looked at me very tenaciously, certainly remembering me. But though my clothes were expensive, there were no clan symbols, and I did not say my name.

  Having questioned the man a little more, I was convinced that he knew nothing more. He did mention that the same strangers visited the next village, located downstream. And that the village fishermen were afraid, when they saw achilots rushing at the bottom of the river, tearing snags and unearthing boulders, slowly advancing lower and lower. They say one of them emerged, snorting and smiling, and gave the fishermen pearls, threw three nets heavy with fish into the boats, and asked if any strange things had happened in their area.

  The man did not know anything else, and I hastened to put three full mugs of beer in front of him, added a local "invigorating" tincture, and a huge glass of wine. I was hoping he’d be hit with digital amnesia .... I could not kill the poor fellow could I?

  After that I said goodbye and hastily sat down. My place was occupied by other visitors, wh
o started a conversation about a new brothel on the central street. The girls there were so stately, akin to the sirens of the sea. Their tight-fitting dresses caused passers-by to stumble and involuntarily turn left, to the brothel door.

  I went back to the counter and asked for a cranberry juice. Thoughts fluttered like frightened fish fearing a net.

  So, the worst thing that could happen had - the hunt for the Silver Legend was started by other players, and they had at least one item from the set in their hands. And maybe more - it's not a fact that they do not have two or three more.

  I am a lone wolf, digging and sniffing around by myself, running around here and there. I can only hope for luck and luck, for intuition.

  And they were literally filtering everything through a fine sieve. Filtering everything in a row, starting with rumors and ending with the mud of the river bottom. This is a whole company on the search for the legendary set, and on the search for other players involved. Their legion! Matching cloaks, confident behavior and a large amount of money - everything was pointing to a clan. Which was good - at least I could learn something about my competitors. And I'd do it, without stopping to think.

  I broke off from the counter, and paid the owner without even remembering the amount. The rogue had probably deceived me. But I did not care. Having gotten out on the street through the back door, I headed to the center, looking for one of the most common Valdira buildings in the world.

  So I was alone, and there were a lot of them. It was clear. I was looking for myself, and they were looking for the clan. For them, this was a subject of high politics.

  Why? Because the chances of collecting a complete legendary set or at least a few items are very small. My success was pure luck, the help of the goddess, and the absence of competitors at the beginning of the journey.

  In the game world, there are lucky players who have complete sets of equipment, including sets of legendary level. But as far as I know, most of the time they did not look for the items at all - they either bought them all at once, or got them one by one at auctions both official and on the black market. Either they were part of a clan that acted exactly like this one - or tried their best at buying them. I am the only one going on the classic, glorified way, the way that is never used - I am on a real quest, going forwards only by clues indicating the direction.