Infinite Assassins: Daggerland Online Novel 2 A LITRPG Adventure

by Peter Meredith

  Pausing at the front door, he checked the grounds to see whether anyone was poking around.

  It was lucky that he did because two women were approaching. Both were somewhere north of forty and appeared frumpy, as if they had long before realized their full potential in life and had stopped trying to keep up appearances. Roan dodged back from the door and looked around at the circular room with its giant columns. The temple was more or less wide open.

  With nowhere else to go, he ducked around the column on the far left of the circle; it afforded the most cover. He pressed his back to it and forced himself not to peek at the women as they entered. There was no need, their chatter was enough for him to pinpoint their location.

  They walked within ten feet of him and, as he remained completely still, they didn’t see him. It was only when they were heading towards the offices and the dead bodies that he slipped around the column and headed for the door, walking quickly without looking back. Just as he got to it, he heard one of the women gasp.

  Now, he started jogging, his pack shifting back and forth. He made straight for the main gate and ducked through. Once on the street, he slowed, and began walking warily out of the territory of K Street Killers. When he got back to Ghak territory he felt a strange sense of relief though he didn’t know why.

  At least he felt that he could hold his head up on these streets. That didn’t mean he let his guard down. He kept the crossbow at the ready until he arrived at the Daggerland equivalent of a pawnshop. The place was a maze of junk from secondhand clothes, to dented suits of armor, to chipped china.

  “The sign in the window said you buy used items,” Roan said, to a woman with a single unblinking blue eye. He began unslinging his backpack, sliding the items he had taken from the temple out onto the counter.

  In Roan’s opinion, the woman was dressed like gypsy in layers of multi-colored cloth. She eyed the items but didn’t touch any. “Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t. It depends on if you have a permit, or not. I hope for your sake you do.”

  “A permit? To sell stuff?”

  The lady did not answer, however a man behind him did, “No, you need to a permit to steal stuff.”

  Roan felt the cold blade of a dagger at his throat and in his peripheral vision he saw a green armband.

  Chapter 9

  Oberast, Daggerland

  The man with the dagger wasn’t alone. There were two others and all three had crept up on him, making no more noise than a like number of mice.

  “I didn’t steal this stuff,” Roan said, trying to bluff his way out of trouble. “These are family heirlooms. I’m just trying to make some room in my apartment. I hate clutter.”

  “Parchment is a family heirloom? Bowls? And what do we have here?” A black gloved hand reached out to pick up one of the holy symbols of Apollo. Roan was suddenly turned around to face the three. They wore the black with the green armbands of the local gang.

  The leader had a thin mustache set beneath a surprisingly big nose. As large as his nose was, his eyes were small, almost tiny, and were as dark as his mustache. “It looks like you’ve been to the temple of Apollo. Are you with the new sect? The, uh, infinite guy?”

  “It’s the Infinite One,” Roan corrected. “Let’s just say I’m affiliated. Is that a problem?”

  The thief stared intently at Roan before saying, “No, not a problem at all. In fact you might have saved me a trip. Did you just rob Apollo’s clerics, or what?”

  Roan knew there were territorial issues at play that ran concurrent with the religious ones. This Ghak thug probably didn’t give a rat’s ass about religion. All he cared about was that The Infinite One’s temple was in Ghak territory and it didn’t look good when outsiders waltzed in and slaughtered a temple full of people, even if they were evil zealots.

  Which meant that the Ghak were probably gunning for Dorsett’s team. How would they go about doing that? Informants? Spies? Were they staking out all of the local pawnshops? Yes, yes, and yes. It suddenly dawned on Roan that if he played his cards right, he could get in good with the Ghak and through them might be able to get to the assassins working for Arching.

  “We did more than rob the temple of Apollo,” Roan said. “Much, much more, but since I am the lowest guy on the totem pole, my share of the loot was correspondingly smaller. It’s too bad we didn’t have time to take down that roof. I’m sure all of those tiles are only gold-plated, but gold is gold, right?”

  The thief was slow to respond. He studied Roan for so long that Roan felt as though he were at a high-stakes poker game being stared down after raising all in. “Gold is gold,” the man agreed. “Is that all you’re about, gold?”

  “Until a better offer comes along, yes,” Roan answered, meeting the man’s gaze. “In my mind, power is preferable to gold.”

  “It most definitely is. It sounds like you’re my kind of guy. I know you just did a job, but are you looking for work? I’m offering steady work with an opportunity for advancement for a motivated individual. You did say you were the low man where you’re at now.”

  Roan laughed. “One moment you’re shaking me down and the next you’re offering me a job? Okay, let’s hear you what you have to offer, Mr…?”

  “Mister is not a term we use on this side. My name is Corvo.” He stuck out a hand and Roan shook it, introducing himself as well. “Okay, Ratchet, seeing as we just met I could only offer a rank and file position…”

  “No. I’ve seen your rank and file. They’re unimpressive thugs lacking intelligence, training and self-discipline.”

  Corvo grinned. “You got guts, Ratchet. I like that. People despise thieves. They call us cowards, but you and I know better. The fighter encases himself in a metal skin; the cleric hides behind an all-powerful being, and the wizard can command forces that defy nature. But what do we have? Courage. It takes guts to do what we do, right? I appreciate that and I reward it. Advancement comes quick. In a month you could be running your own street team. In six months you could be where I’m at. I’m a company commander. The pay is great, the hours are what I make them. I don’t have to work on the other side.”

  Roan didn’t have months to play around with. He needed to get in, gain access to the right people and make arrests. “No,” he said again. “I’m working on something for my current employers, though it would benefit you and your…wait, is the Ghak, mafia? A cartel?”

  “Mafia,” Corvo with a wave of his hand as if the name really meant nothing to him. “What is it you’re doing? I don’t mean to sound threatening but the Ghak does not allow outside operators within our territory. I could kill you just for trying to sell this stuff to sweet Lasannerre here.” Sweet Lasannerre smiled, showing only six teeth to go with her missing eye.

  “I’ll tell your boss what I’m doing, but only with you present and after I confirm the details. For now, all I can say is that it does have something to do with last night’s attack.”

  Corvo shook his head. “You want to meet my boss? That ain’t happening. The chain of command doesn’t work that way.”

  Roan shrugged. “We can say we tried, right?” He turned to Lasannerre and politely asked, “What do you think? Two hundred for the lot?”

  Lasannerre didn’t answer. Nervously she looked to Corvo who blew out a long breath. “Leave,” Corvo ordered Lasannerre and his two goons. When they stepped away, the big-nosed thief asked, “Why don’t you give me the gist and maybe I’ll be able to set up a meet.”

  “I might be able to track down the party that broke into the temple last night.” Roan felt a greasy sensation deep in his stomach. He was throwing Dorsett and his friends under the bus, but it had to be done for the greater good. And it was just a game, after all.

  2—

  Now that Roan knew that Dorsett and his team were being hunted by the Ghak, he didn’t see any choice other than using their coming deaths to his advantage. They were weak. Half were first level characters; they didn’t stand much of a chance and Roan stood even
less of one. The leader of the group, Sirant made it obvious that he didn’t care for rogues and so far it seemed their main job was to get killed by the traps set in their way. Roan was cannon fodder to Sirant, nothing else.

  “I should be able to find out their names by this evening,” Roan said. “And, there’s a good chance I’ll also find out where they’re staying. Would that get me in to see your boss?”

  Corvo scratched the side of his nose. “I would think so, but if you think it’ll sway him to give you a company commander slot, you’ll be sadly mistaken.”

  Roan wasn’t looking for a command position. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll be at Rinely’s cafe at six. Meet me there.”

  “I’ll meet you there, but the boss will have his own ideas, believe me.” Corvo gave Roan a last handshake before exiting the pawnshop. Immediately neon green numbers floated in Roan’s vision (Bluff Successful XP +100). This time he did look the gift horse in the mouth.

  Was the game helping him, or was it just set up so that thieves gained experience when they did things of a thieving or repugnant nature? He had set up a clandestine meeting with the local mafia warlord so that he could stab his ex-party mates in the back. It was awful and something that a thief would do.

  He was still musing when Lasannerre returned, fixing him with an unblinking stare. “I could do maybe seventy-five for the lot.”

  “If you said one seventy-five then okay, if not, I don’t think so.” He started to walk out, she stopped him with an offer of a hundred. He countered again and she did as well until they settled on a hundred and forty-five in gold. Since he didn’t get rewarded with experience points, it made him wonder if he had lost this particular battle.

  Taking the pouch of gold, he walked to Rinely’s Cafe and sat in his usual seat, his long black cloak spilling behind him. Cricket hurried up. “Would you like some of that rice wine, milord Ratchet?”

  “Bring me the bottle and two glasses.” She left and was back again in a flash. “Sit,” he told her. After a nervous glance toward Riley, she climbed up onto a chair and sat there swinging her legs back and forth. “Tell me about the K Street Killers,” Roan said as he poured two glasses of the wine. His he filled nearly to the top, while to hers he added only two fingers’ worth.

  Cricket sipped her wine and told him everything she knew about the gang. As he had guessed she would be, she was a veritable font of information. Children were like sponges, especially those who didn’t have a television, a smartphone, and five different gaming systems. They also tended to be ignored. People had a habit of talking in front of them as if they weren’t there.

  According to Cricket, the K Street Killers had doubled their territory in the last year and had between two hundred and five hundred “enforcers” depending on which source she quoted. “Rinely thinks it’s two hundred, but Corvo tells everyone that it’s five hundred at least.”

  Roan figured the real number was somewhere in between, but likely on the lower end. Their arms were generally short swords or daggers, while their armor was either leather or studded leather. From what adventurers passing through had said, their fighting skills were not top-notch.

  “One guy said their leader has quantity and not quality. I’m not all that sure what that means.” Cricket was on her second small glass of wine and already her huge eyes were getting sleepy.

  “And do you know who their leader is?”

  Before she could answer, Rinely came over. “Isn’t this nice? You two having a good chat? Good, good. Cricket, be a dear and fetch the gentleman some bread.” When she left, Rinely sat down and fixed Roan with an odd smile. “You know she’s eight, but not for much longer. I think her birthday is in a month. Time sure does get away from one.”

  “It can. What’s your point?”

  “My point is a girl is only eight once and soon she’ll be nine and then…well she’ll no longer be as pure, and your opportunity will have passed to someone else.”

  The disgusting barbarity he was suggesting smote Roan, bewildering him to such an extent that it was a few moments before his rage kicked in. “And how much would that cost?” he heard himself asking. It felt like he was far from this faux body of his, as if he were a puppet controlling it from above.

  Rinely stroked his chin, perhaps imitating someone far smarter than he. “She’s a little thin, I’ll grant you that, but she’s very eager to please. And did I tell you her mother is a happy girl down on K Street? She has it in her blood, so you know she’ll be hot for it.”

  “How much?” Roan asked through gritted teeth.

  “Hmmm, I’ve had bids of ten already, but I couldn’t let you take her for…less than fifty.”

  A shiver racked Roan’s shoulders. It was an ugly feeling. It was a hunger to inflict pain. Before, Rinely knew what was happening, Roan had jumped up and leveled him with a punch to the jaw. Rinely went back in his chair so that his head thumped heavily on the floor and feet were in the air.

  Roan followed him to the floor, his fists swinging until Rinely was a bloody mess, his lips split in three places, his eyes blackened and his jaw swinging on a broken hinge.

  In all it took seven swings of his fists before Roan could gain control of his own body. Slowly, he stood, his chest heaving, his breath coming out like a bull’s, not so much from the exertion than the anger that burned in him. He opened the string on his money pouch and counted out ten gold pieces.

  Throwing the gold onto Rinely’s body, he said, “I’ll pay for the girl,” as the coins rolled around on the floor, “but not her damned virginity. What the hell kind of thing is…” He was so angry that he couldn’t go on, and finished his sentence with a sharp kick to Rinely’s side (XP +35).

  He stormed into the kitchen. There had been wide-eyed whispering among the staff; it all ended the moment he came through the doorway. “Cricket, get your stuff, you’re coming with me.”

  “What stuff? I don’t have no stuff.”

  “You have clothes other than what you have on, right? Go get them and hurry.”

  Cricket rushed from the kitchen, which was silent save for the crackle of a wood fire and the hiss of boiling water dribbling over the side of a pot. Beckwen’s nervous hands wound in and out of a cleaning cloth she wore at the front of her apron. Eventually, she worked up her courage. “Perhaps you should rethink this milord, for your sake and hers.”

  Roan glared. “Mind your business, Beckwen.”

  She was about to say something else when Cricket appeared in the attire of a street urchin. Instead of a dress, she wore rat-eaten brown pants, a shirt that was three sizes too big and the same overly large shoes she’d been wearing before. If it hadn’t been for her dirty-blonde hair spilling down her shoulders, she would’ve been mistaken for a boy.

  “Let’s go,” he ordered the girl, heading for the back door. She hurried along beside him, taking three steps for every one of his long strides.

  “Did you buy me? I heard coins bouncing around.”

  The very thought of buying another human was so repugnant that Roan actually growled. “I freed you is what I did.” She shrugged at this, causing him to stop so suddenly that Cricket was five steps ahead before she realized it. “A thank you is in order, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, milord. Thank you, milord.”

  She clearly didn’t know what it meant to be free, then again, what child did? They were wholly dependent on their parents or guardian, and now Roan was her guardian. “Oh, crap,” he said, under his breath. He didn’t have the time, the aptitude or the desire to be anyone’s guardian. “Do you, uh, know what an adoption agency is?” he asked.

  “No. I never heard of that. So now that you bought me, what am I going to do for you, Ratchet? Everyone says you’re like a rogue or an enforcer. Do you want me to be your lookout when you go on jobs?”

  “What? No…I…” He didn’t know what he was going to do with her, but he certainly wasn’t going to involve her in the shadier side of his current life. “First, we
’ll get you fixed up with some better clothes. Then I want you to lay low at Beckwen’s while I…”

  He stopped in midsentence. Beckwen’s was the first place anyone would go to find the girl. “I could find a new place in a snap, but I’m supposed to meet Corvo at Rinely’s and if Rinely is paying Corvo for protection, then Corvo might come after me. Oh boy, this is getting complicated.”

  “I could go back if it will help you, Ratchet.”

  Roan looked down into her sea-grey eyes and saw that she didn’t want to go back. She’d had one minute of freedom and already didn’t want to give it up. “No. Rinely will try to exact some petty revenge. We will meet it head on. Well, maybe not head on.” He was a rogue after all, which meant his survival was based on cunning and quickness, not necessarily force of arms.

  The first step was to guess Rinely’s intentions. He’d been publicly humiliated, beaten into a bloody mess and had one of his slaves stolen from him. His revenge would be far from petty; it would be murderous and quick. Rinely couldn’t let Roan grab the child and run. In fact, he was probably setting up a hit even then.

  They would come for Roan at Beckwen’s and Roan would be ready for them. “Let’s go,” he said, marching once more with long strides, heading straight to his apartment. Cricket jogged along beside him, casting fearful glances up at Roan every few steps. Roan’s face was stone as he pictured what was coming and what he would have to do.

  Step one was to walk boldly through the front doors of the apartment building. He was big for a rogue and with the girl at his side, he stood out. People would see and take note, and, probably in the next fifteen minutes, they would point to the stairs when Rinely’s hit squad came looking for him.

  Roan went to the fourth floor and down the long hallway to his apartment. Even though he knew no one could have gotten there before him, he entered with his heavy crossbow at the ready. The apartment was empty. He went to his room, lifted the loose floor board and took out the heavy pouch of gold.