“I can handle the mess I’ve gotten myself into,” Patrick said. The honorary citizen of Tristad looked me in the eye, and his gaze was hard. “Find Muvarak…”
“Listen here, sharp-ears!” Walsh joined the conversation. “Your involvement in the fate of this heretic is extremely suspicious. The boys are fetching the watch and the inquisitors, and I hereby order you in the name of King Bastian the First to stand…”
Damn it, O’Grady! I thought before activating Depths Teleportation straight to Kharinza. Along with the honorary drunkard of Tristad.
Interlude 2: Melissa
AS HAD BECOME custom recently, we decided to fly in the same flier after school, but Alex refused at the last moment.
“I’m falling asleep,” he said, yawning widely. “You guys go, I want to sleep on the way.”
Melissa thought of keeping him company, but Scyth still had things to do in Dis. Essential things, everyone understood that. She hugged Alex and kissed him. The boys were embarrassed by this public display of affection. They couldn’t get used to the fact that Tissa, ‘one of the boys,’ was now Sheppard’s girlfriend. Hung emoted a facepalm, Malik rolled his eyes. Ed just turned away, waited for them to finish, then touched Alex’s shoulder.
“Everything going to plan?”
“Yes. I’m in Darant, I’ll find Patrick, talk to his troggs, and if they agree, bring them to the base.”
“Good. Hung and I will blaze some trails and come back to the fort. Then we’ll discuss what to do next. We have good news and bad news. The good is that the desert debuff works based on a percentage of health, which means it kills all players of all levels and resistances equally. The bad news is that we’re barely a mouthful to the mice there.”
“There’s another option apart from the lands beyond the frontier…” Alex muttered, sitting in the flier. His sleepy voice was barely audible.
Melissa saw him enter a destination and switch the autopilot on. Alex waved his hand in parting and his flier took off, leaving Melissa with the boys on the landing pad.
“What did he mean?” Malik asked in confusion.
“You know him,” Hung shrugged his shoulders. “He’s a quiet type. He won’t tell us until he tests this ‘option’ of his.”
“That’s what I don’t like about it…” Malik sighed, jumping into the flier first.
The orb-shaped aircar made of super-strong transparent plastic took in all four passengers and gently lifted off. The compensators kicked in and the fast take-off to a thousand feet, into the atmosphere layer designated for civic air transport, was barely noticeable.
They didn’t talk about the game as they flew, fearing that someone could be listening in. They had nothing else to talk about except the upcoming citizenship tests.
When the flier landed on the roof of a building and the girl rose from her seat, Malik asked her:
“Are you going straight into Dis?”
In their years of study and friendship, it had become a tradition that Melissa was dropped off first. Not just because she lived closer, but also because of her dad. He demanded that her daughter fly home straight after school — while the head of the family earned money in his cheap old capsule, all the housework was hers.
“First I need to make dinner, then tidy up the house,” she answered. “I’ll meet you in the tavern, Malik. I’ll message you.”
After her mom died, her dad found it harder and harder to maintain his citizenship status. Mom had been good at ideas, and her colleagues respected and valued her as an expert sociologist. But her ideas were too… dangerous. So, when she died some at the top sighed in relief.
But dad… After mom’s death, it was as if he was adrift. He drank, went on benders in drinking establishments, got into fights, and in the end, he lost his job as a corporate lawyer. That sobered him up and worries over his daughter’s fate brought back his prudence.
Nonetheless, every year on the day before the attestation for his category, he became irritable, got nervous and desperately studied new laws and legal cases. His lack of work in his specialty reduced his value for society, but his qualifications compensated for it slightly. As did the royalties from Tissa’s mom’s scientific works. It wasn’t much, but it was a big help in maintaining the citizenship of her close relatives.
That said, this couldn’t go on for long. In the last two years, they’d dropped a category. Give it a little more time and her dad, if he didn’t find work, would lose citizenship. And Tissa along with him.
She’d pass the citizenship test of course, but how long could she support her status without a higher education? At twenty-one, they’d give her a category… Or they wouldn’t, instead declaring her useless and stripping her of her citizenship. Dis could help. The government took fast progress in the game as a sign of determination and the presence of important qualities. But she was unlikely to achieve anything significant there within five years without a Threat as a friend.
She recognized that Alex’s success would be her success too. It would give her choice in the future — they’d already spoken a lot about this, deciding in unison to dedicate a year after school to Dis, and then to join university together. Even if they didn’t manage to finish their studies before they fully came of age, they’d get a delay until their diploma. And the money earned from eliminating Big Po should be enough for all the Awoken to pay for their studies…
“Dad, I’m home!” Melissa shouted.
Throwing off her jacket, she walked into the living room In the bedroom, her dad was just leaving his capsule — one of the two installed in the home. The other one used to belong to her mom, and when Tissa reached fourteen, a new temporary one from the Department of Education wasn’t required.
“How was school?” her dad asked, emerging from his room. He was already dressed and looked tired.
“Same as usual. Mr. Kovac went crazy and dumped a bunch of written assignments on us, and the other teachers did too. I don’t know what to start with and how to finish it all in time. How was your raid?”
Her father, or rather, his character, a knight at level two hundred and sixty, was part of a small group of mercenaries. Not the coolest, and, to put it plainly, not the most successful. But yesterday they’d had some luck — a rich couple hired him and a few other warriors to finish some achievement and get some gear that dropped from a specific boss.
“Annoying customers…” her dad muttered. “They think that just because they hired us, we’re their damn servants!”
“Did you wipe?”
“Yeah…” her dad’s face darkened. “That rich little upstart aggroed a patrol right before the boss. We had to start over again! Lost a bunch of time and some of our payment! It’s a good thing that the epic they wanted dropped right away at least, the chance wasn’t a hundred percent…”
“But the wipe was the customer’s fault, right?” Tissa asked in surprise.
“We missed a point in the contract,” he said in annoyance. “Any wipe means minus five percent. Damn them anyway! Even after the penalty, we made some good money, flower.”
Tissa walked over to her dad and hugged him. He stroked her hair.
“I ordered some fresh groceries with the contract money. Want to make dinner? I’m starving!”
* * *
After the memorable final in the Arena, Tissa was invited to several clans, not counting those to which all the Awoken were invited.
The girl caught the eye of the Damsels, a non-combat clan that specialized in monetizing their members’ looks. The clan hadn’t achieved any particular success in its in-game endeavors, but was still considered one of the richest due to its careful positioning. The Damsels were invited to high-class balls and rich private parties, both in Dis and in the real world, and used them to promote their private brands and show the girls’ lives in both their guises in real time. The main requirement for joining was being naturally beautiful. Any hint of plastic surgery meant a refusal. Another important aspect was that the Damsels
’ in-game images had to match their real ones.
Perverts, Tissa had thought then.
You could create any appearance in Dis, but the rich types didn’t like to be tricked even in a game. The Damsels satisfied that demand.
She’d gotten an invitation of an entirely different sort from the White Amazons. The ochre witch was impressed by Tissa’s game skills, which were a perfect match for the unspoken racial requirements reflected clearly in the clan’s composition. A blond-haired, blue-eyed white-skinned girl, tall and beautiful, the champion of the Junior Arena, the only girl among the boys — a tasty treat.
My dear, come have a drink with me in a wonderful cafe… the ochre witch had said to the priestess of the Sleeping Gods. We’ll have a great time!
Tissa ignored the offer, but Elizabeth, as the leader of the White Amazons was known, was a persistent type. Around a month ago, she’d met the girl on the school landing pad and convinced her to talk.
Stunned by this attention from a lady of luxury, a C-class citizen among other things, Tissa agreed. Instead of a ‘wonderful cafe,’ Elizabeth took her to her place in a flame-red Ferrari Falco.
They flew over half an ocean at supersonic speeds and landed on an idyllic beach on a tropical island. The automatic security system set up around the aerial perimeter requested that the driver identify herself. Once convinced that Elizabeth had the right to land, the turret gun barrels lowered. A police drone nonetheless approached and took the biometric details of the guest, the underage Melissa Schafer, with dependent citizenship status K.
Being in such a respectable district for the first time, the size of the houses and grounds belonging to high-category citizens astounded Tissa. All around were golf greens and miraculous lakes glittering in the sunlight, complete with swans and pink flamingos. The uncrowded streets were lush with greenery. The girl couldn’t hold back a cry of joy when she saw a reindeer fawn calmly walking down the sidewalk. She was even more surprised that one of the streets of this clean and gleaming town belonged to the White Amazons.
“One of these houses could be yours, my dear,” Elizabeth noted.
At her fifty years, she looked no older than twenty-five — obviously plastic surgery, or possibly a youth procedure undergone on the Moon. Melissa had studied all the information available online about Elizabeth.
They spent the whole day together — conversation with the Ochre Witch was captivating. A little later, some other Amazons came to visit Elizabeth, and the evening flew by for Tissa in warm and friendly company. They all seemed to be just as caring and honest as Elizabeth… Tissa didn’t want to fly home to her sad little district, to the depressing and gloomy anthill apartment building, and she had a ban in Dis, so she was overjoyed when Elizabeth invited her to stay the night. Elizabeth herself called the girl’s father, introduced herself and got permission to give Melissa lodgings. It probably helped that Elizabeth magnanimously gifted a legendary spear to her father — she logged into the game personally and sent it with her best wishes.
Her father, not knowing Scyth’s status, was glad of his daughter’s new acquaintance. Both he and the Ochre Witch were certain that Tissa would join the White Amazons as soon as she left the sandbox. Who would have refused? Elizabeth promised to pull the right strings to get Tissa a higher education remotely, without harming her game career, something in the sphere of sociology or virtual world design. She promised to get her a job, high status and in the end — the right to live on an idyllic island in her own two-story house.
The girl didn’t tell her friends the details of Elizabeth’s offer. Alex didn’t even pay any attention — they all got offered like that, some more, some less… But the seed of doubt had been cast.
After the events of recent days, it had grown. Because of what he’d done, it had been immensely hard for Scyth to get out of the sandbox. Tissa didn’t trust Crag and wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t betray them at the first sign of a threat to his own benefit. And now the Destroying Plague debuff…
It’ll all be worked out before I leave the sandbox, Melissa reassured herself. And if it all went to hell, she’d take the Ochre Witch’s offer. And the guys… The guys would get it. That was why they were friends.
* * *
As always, merrymaking and laughter drifted out of the Bubbling Flagon. After the death of Tashot, Chef Arno and a range of other key NPCs in the area, reinforcements arrived from Darant: some retired foreman bought the tavern, a veteran of the Commonwealth army. A fat lady took the chef’s spot, and new priests with suspiciously high levels came to attend the temple of Nergal. Chief Councilman Whiteacre had survived, but half the members of the city council had turned undead. New members had to be elected. Apart from that, the city watch had been almost entirely changed, and for the sandbox their levels of over one hundred looked strange.
The tavern’s new owner declared a tournament in the rear yard, a bard on the stage sang some desperately sad song and fell under a justifiable hail of apple cores and chicken legs. Infect was behind the bar.
“We going?” Tissa asked, approaching her clanmate.
“Give me a minute,” he answered indistinctly, chewing on some boar jerky. “You know you can’t eat like this at home. Oh, look who’s here!”
Tissa turned and saw Aphrodite, former neighbor of Alex. Eve O’Sullivan, spoilt, empty-headed and sour-tempered trash.
One of Hung’s multitude of cousins had studied with her and told of the girl’s tricks. Apologize at once! she’d demanded one time from a teacher that had criticized her. Your citizenship status is lower than mine, I won’t let you speak to me in a tone like that! The girl treated everyone beneath her citizenship category like shit even before she got plastic surgery. Once she bought more beauty, she got even worse. It was strange that Alex had been her friend for so many years.
Eve swept over to a table by the stage, hanging on young man’s arm. Tissa didn’t recognize him. Feeling Tissa’s gaze on her back, she glanced over her shoulder, immediately turned around and said something to her boyfriend. He laughed and cast a passing glance at the priestess of the Sleeping Gods.
“I don’t have much time,” Tissa said, hurrying Infect.
“Just a sec, let me finish my drink…” He started chugging down a glass of beer.
They ran into Rita Overweight outside the tavern. Like some kind of rally of Alex’s exes, Tissa thought. The tradeswoman was in a hurry, but she stopped when she saw the pair.
“Hey! What’re you guys up to out there?”
“Out there? Where?” Tissa asked in confusion.
“In the big world. Alex threw me the descriptions of a couple of pieces of gear, asked me to get him prices on the black market. What’ve you been farming? Raid instances?”
“Who do you see before you, Mega-Extra-Overweight?”
“Um… you.”
“Exactly right. I’m in the sandbox, just like you! Infect and I aren’t there,” Tissa shook her head, “and we aren’t farming shit.”
“Got it,” Overweight said, pursing her lips. “Alright, well… bye.”
Infect remembered himself only when she’d already walked away.
“Hey, wait! What artifacts were they? Over…”
Tissa hissed in his ear:
“Don’t make a fool of yourself!”
“What?”
“She knows and we don’t? What the hell?”
“To hell with it. Let’s jump?”
Tissa nodded, and an instant later Infect took both of them to where they’d ended their search the previous day. They’d roamed practically the entire base of the Nameless Mountains but hadn’t found a single hint of the renegade kobold camp. It was good, at least, that the mobs caused no problems — Tissa and Infect had reached level twenty-eight during the assault of the Destroying Plague.
“Where are we headed?” Infect asked.
“I don’t know,” Tissa shrugged. “We could go a little further south and go to the other side…”
�
�I wanted to ask…” The boy faltered.
“What?”
“You and Scyth are serious, right?”
“Of course!” Tissa burst out. And hurriedly turned around to hide her emotions.
“Have you already...?”
“None of your business!”
This was too much. Friend or not, Tissa had no plans to talk on that subject. She frowned and crossed her arms in annoyance.
They actually hadn’t. At first Alex behaved too hesitantly, then he reached sixteen. Formally, he was of age and she wasn’t. Understanding this, Alex stopped even letting his hands roam, and after his exit from the sandbox they were practically never even alone.
The Destroying Plague Page 15