Trojan: An Epic LitRPG Adventure (Afterlife Online Book 3)

by Domino Finn

  "Aye, it hurts all right," threatened Nooner. "Did you think I would hurt you less?"

  "Just wait a second," I snapped, annoyed by the lower-level player's insistence on blood. "I'm not letting you rob anyone in my territory."

  Nooner's cheek twitched. "Rob? Are you daft? I'm just wanting to make a full withdrawal of my funds."

  My head swiveled to Drummond, who sheepishly chuckled. "That's technically true," he explained, "but I gave him his money. His partner, Chadwick, withdrew the full amount earlier this morning."

  Nooner shook him. "Chadwick ain't my partner! That rotten low-level backstabber will get what's coming to him, but you first. I didn't approve of giving him my money."

  "He said you did."

  "And I said I'm Santi Claus. Don't mean I got a bunch of annoying elves following me around. Now I told ya me and Chadwick had a schisma. He hired a bunch of Erudite thugs and now thinks he's the king a Stronghold."

  My eyebrow cocked. "Knowledgeable and well read?"

  "What?" Nooner's eyes went cross. "You've met Chadwick then?"

  "No, you said erudite."

  "His thugs. They're from Erude. What else would ya call them?"

  "Please!" cried Drummond. "Chadwick said you'd be angry if I didn't transfer the funds. He tortured me for them. I just wanted it to stop. He swore the money was for you!"

  Nooner growled. "Cry to yer momma, not to me." He brandished a dagger.

  I'd had enough of daggers today.

  I slammed the dragonspear into the wall. There was so little clearance between the arguing players that it forced them apart. The legendary weapon thrummed on impact, vibrating the entire stone wall. Both men's eyes went wide.

  I kept my voice dispassionate. "You're telling me your partner stole your money?"

  Nooner bit back a salty scowl. "No. I'm telling ya my ex-partner stole the banker's money. My money is guaranteed. And I want what's rightfully mine."

  Drummond shook his head in alarm. "If I give him someone else's money then I won't have it for them."

  "That's called a ponzu scheme, and I don't like ponzu schemes."

  I stifled a chuckle and wished Izzy was around. With her Japanese heritage she would've especially appreciated that one. Both men found my mirth objectionable.

  "Sorry, inside joke. Listen, how much money are we talking about here?"

  "Two thousand silver," squeaked Drummond.

  "Two—?" I sighed and checked my funds.

  Coin

  Silver

  211

  Plates

  49

  2,000 silver wasn't exactly enough to fund a criminal empire, but it wasn't nothing either, especially in the absence of special quests. While the devs had thankfully patched more common mobs into the wilderness, that was a whole lot of grinding. Currency drops weren't standardized—even an ogre would be hard-pressed to have more than 30 or 40 coins. At level 5, 2,000 silver was Nooner's life savings.

  With all the faction building of late, my savings were a shadow of their former self. Plates were worth 100 silver each, so 2,000 was about 40% of my current wealth.

  "How about I pay the debt and we call it even?" Their eyes widened at my generosity. I casually handed 20 silver plates to a stunned Nooner.

  "W—well... Thank you, sir!" stammered the gangster. "This'll take care of that scheming bastard Chadwick."

  I cleared my throat.

  Nooner snapped his head to me. "Don't think yer getting more than thanks from me. It's my money after all."

  "That's right, but you will avoid causing trouble in Black Hat territory. Otherwise you'll find more than you can handle. Got it?"

  "Loud and clear, saint defier. Let's get outta here, boys." The three gangsters stomped away before I took back their good fortune.

  Drummond swallowed uncomfortably. He was still nervously pressed against the wall. I retrieved my dragonspear and returned it to my inventory. Then I offered the jumpy man a hand.

  "Why do I get the sinking feeling I've traded one obligation for another?" he asked.

  "Because you're a businessman, Drummond. You know better." His face deflated. "Let's take a walk." I nodded to Trafford and the others. We all resumed our initial path.

  "You should've just let me kill them, boss," muttered Lash.

  "Maybe next time." I hung my arm around the banker. "So you're still invincible, right?"

  He nodded glumly. "Without my specialty class kit, PvP can't kill me. I can be tortured, though. And Nooner's NPCs could finish me off in a second."

  I sucked my teeth sympathetically. More unintended consequences. "But you need the low level to avoid the drop penalty, right?"

  Another nod. "What kind of bank loses 25% of its funds every respawn?"

  "Not a good one, that's for sure. And that's assuming you can salvage the rest of the drop. Have you ever considered changing your business model?"

  We stopped at a leveled area clear of debris. Grug was napping in the dirt. Grom walked over and kicked him awake.

  "This is it," beamed Trafford. "Isn't it great?"

  Drummond squinted at the empty space. "It's an empty lot."

  I smiled. "It's a solution, my banker friend."

  The buildmaster general patted my shoulder. "Care to do the honors?"

  I opened my build menu. We'd just hit 52 headquarter resources this morning and could finally build the next structure.

  Vault

  Safe stash for loot usable only by guild members. Currency within is not subject to death penalty.

  Cost: 50 HQR; 2000 silver

  Man Hours: 100

  HQXP: 1

  A vault was a level-1 building, fairly standard as far as things went. It didn't contribute to faction stats in any way, but it did finally provide me with a tangible and desirable benefit to lure new recruits.

  Without Izzy and Kyle around, I fronted the hefty price, leaving me with only 9 plates. A glowing purple outline of what resembled a mausoleum with a reinforced door appeared over the empty yard. Grug and Grom hastily cleared the area as I spent the points. The highlight disappeared and a sturdy physical foundation appeared in place.

  HQR: 2

  "Finally!" exclaimed Trafford. "Let's get to work." He and the two pirates produced builder tools and went to it.

  "So you have a vault," noted Drummond. "Another blow to my fledgling business."

  My eyes flashed. "You're looking at it backwards, my good man. The vault is why I need you."

  His brow furrowed. "The building keeps your money safe. What more could you require of me?"

  "Not safeguarding silver, that's for sure. Your run-ins with Chadwick and Nooner should convince you that's not where your strengths lie."

  He frowned.

  "My faction needs a bean counter. All non-administrative members contribute a 10% tithe. We're not interested in equipment, but any silver or valuables gained from selling loot must be counted towards faction coffers. So far we've been on the honor system, but I need a fool-proof method. Haven doesn't provide one. You figure that out, keep an eye on things, and you have a job."

  He nodded along as he ran calculations in his head. Drummond was a sharp fellow when he didn't have a dagger in his face. "It's a good offer—an unrefusable one considering the money you already spent on me—but Stronghold has a population of eight hundred. Six when you discount the city watch and the army. This vault is only for guild members and you'd be cutting off the majority of my client base."

  "So continue your business with them," I offered. "Take their money, keep it in my vault."

  "You're affording me a place in the Black Hats."

  "Which naturally assumes my protection. As our banker, you'd be free to make profit from non-faction members. We'd take half, of course. That's less money for you, but it's more secure and not kept on your person, which should avoid more torture sessions. I won't further tithe your banking-related earnings. And as an added bonus, you'd finally be free to level up. Maybe you could mak
e that banker moniker official with a class kit."

  Drummond's face brightened at every point. He knew a winning proposition when he heard one, and no banker wanted to be in debt to someone else. "I'll take the job."

  "Great. I recommend sticking close for a few days until the vault's complete. That'll keep your current funds safe." I officially extended a guild offer to him and he accepted.

  Black Hat faction has reached level 2!

  Congratulations! As long as you maintain a minimum of 50 faction members, you gain the following benefits:

  Brigade Controls

  Combine parties into super-parties. Share chat, XP, and quests.

  Group Bonus = 2%

  When 3+ faction members are working together, this bonus applies to combat damage, hit percentage, and crafting skill successes.

  Next Level Up: 100 members

  "Well, oorah," said Lash. "I don't mind that at all." She patted our new best friend on the back. The poor banker almost buckled under the force of the white knight's gauntlet.

  I couldn't help but chuckle. For 4,000 silver, I'd gotten my 50th faction member and ensured the finances of the Black Hats. I'd also be able to offer players a way to keep their money safe as well as an always-on bonus when grouped with faction members.

  The Black Hats were on our way to bigger and better things.

  An emergency horn came from across the river. It was a watch alert, from within the city. There was a disturbance.

  "Aw, hell," spat Trafford. "Why do I get a feeling that's about my lumber?"

  I groaned, held a pacifying hand up to the disgruntled buildmaster general, and hurried to the edge of Oldtown.

  1130 Log Jammers

  I raced to my tower, which sported a new bronze statue of the hero Magnus Dragonrider holding a now-replica dragonspear above his head. Dragonperch was a symbol of Black Hat might and influence. At least I kept telling myself that. Maybe no one else got the memo because trouble kept crowding it.

  The Albula River cuts through the north and south walls of Stronghold, essentially bisecting the city. Various stone bridges cross the brickwork riverfront, especially between the Forum and the public park known as the Foot due to its placement at the foot of the populous Hillside neighborhood. As I crossed the river on Dragonperch's drawbridge, I was disheartened to see the disturbance was indeed about Trafford's lumber.

  Errol Oates, the cutthroat admiral of my pirate navy, had his rapier pointed at a shifty group in the road leading to the tower. Even outnumbered, several scallywags of questionable repute heartily backed their captain. To make matters more complicated, the city watch hurried into a loose perimeter around the bickering residents.

  This seems like a good place to back up and get into city planning and logistics. Unintuitive, I know, but hear me out.

  You see, the city lumberyard was adjacent to a saw mill and other industrial factories that produce materials necessary for construction. They line the north wall of Stronghold. Oldtown sits along the south. In an effort to ease the shipping burden, Errol proposed building a transport barge. I okayed the idea without much oversight, which had been unfortunate. It turns out pirates don't know a whole lot about city planning or maximizing efficiencies.

  Only once the flat barge was completed did my admiral realize it was too wide to pass under the stone bridges of the Foot, essentially limiting his transport barge to the north third of Stronghold's river. Errol's next solution was to unload on one side of the Foot, transfer the load to wagons, and walk everything over my drawbridge. Which brought us to our current problem.

  I hurried into the ruckus with raised arms. The commotion centered on two wagons pulled by oxen. One of them was overturned, lumber spilled to the road. "Hold it, hold it. What's going on here?"

  Errol cursed. "By the Maelstrom, this 'ere landlubber thinks t' profit from our crossin'." The pirate captain-turned-admiral was a menacing figure with black leather pants, a puffy white shirt and a brown leather vest with matching boots and gloves.

  The player squaring off with him was a portly fellow sporting a blonde goatee. He dual wielded daggers and was backed up by twice the NPCs Errol had. His name was [Chadwick].

  I slapped my hand to my face.

  The olive-green tunics of city watchmen piled around us. They were lightly armed and armored: clubs, slings, leather helmets. It didn't matter a whole lot because they were invincible under normal conditions. Even so, they were tougher than they looked.

  A man in banded plate with a red body shield pushed through their ranks. His bright red cape and helmet flair signified him as a centurion. The gold helm and flaming sword signified him as the head of the entire city watch. It was my friend, Gladius.

  "I will not have public disputes resort to violence," he declared boldly. His features softened when he saw me.

  "I'm sorry, buddy. I don't know what this is about."

  We both turned to Errol and Chadwick.

  "It's simple," answered the gangster in a weaselly voice. "My organization keeps the Foot safe, and the pirate's passing through it. Doing business in this part of town naturally conveys me a protection tax."

  "The Foot is public land," declared Gladius. "The city watch is the only protection Stronghold residents need."

  Chadwick snorted. "Keep telling yourself that, badge. Player disputes should be left to players."

  "Sounds right by me," snarled Errol. "I be an ace hand at dispute resolution." His eye twinkled as he twisted his thin sword.

  I examined the interloper. [Level 6 Gangster]. Without the city watch present, he and his men were a legitimate threat to the small band of pirates. They were certainly more organized than the previous gangsters, and smart enough to strike outside my territory. "I thought Nooner called you low level?" I asked, puzzled. "You're higher than he is."

  Chadwick spat on the floor. "That worthless numbskull? You can't trust him. He's a Galatian. You know what they say about Galatians, don't you?"

  I sighed. "I really don't."

  "That you can't trust them!" Chadwick strutted before his men. "Nooner just loved to rub his superiority in my face. Then I outleveled him. Well, who's the man now?"

  His crew applauded the juvenile boasting. One of them jabbed a spear toward my guys. Lash grabbed it and yanked it from his hands. The thug thought better of complaining and retreated closer to his gang. The knight grunted and tossed the spear to me. It was a low-quality weapon. I stashed it to avoid giving the troublemaker another shot.

  The head of the city watch confidently stepped into his face. "I care not for your business methods, just that they remain within the law. Openly threatening to rob other residents does not qualify."

  Chadwick shrugged snidely. "Who said rob?" He pointed at me. "This man taxes his faction. Why should I need an official mantle to do the same? The people of the Foot are glad to have me around. Ask them. Nooner was the one who neglected them, all while the watch sat back and did nothing. I kicked him out, not you."

  Gladius clenched his jaw. "This is not a business negotiation. Don't make me repeat myself."

  "Ah, but it is, dear commander. Whose oxen and wagons do you think the pirates are renting?"

  I grumbled. "You own the stables?" Chadwick only simpered. Errol meanwhile ignored my glare. His business acumen was proving to be a burden. "Why did you rent the supplies? We have the means to own our own production line."

  The admiral shrugged. "I'm a pirate. What I be wantin' with cattle an' wagons? It's bad enough ye got me overseein' cargo."

  "Just think of it as smuggling." Then I stopped myself. That statement right there told me why Errol had fallen in with a shady enterprise. He was used to dealing in illegal wares, used to skirting the law. Even without contraband involved, it was no surprise he'd turned to gangsters for transportation. "Okay, fine," I said, turning to Chadwick. "The Black Hats rented your oxen and wagons. You should be paid up."

  "But our time," insisted Chadwick. "These pack animals don't take care of them
selves."

  "I doubt you need ten men to drive two oxen."

  He sniggered. "They serve towards the aforementioned security."

  "I can secure me own damn self," growled Errol. "Better fer ya not t' find out firsthand."

  "I'll do you one better," I offered. "I'll buy the lot of them from you. No more renting. Name your price."

  The portly gangster boss rubbed his belly and snorted. "Now why would I agree to that? I have a monopoly on pack animals in Stronghold. I'm not just gonna hand over my business model."

  "Really? All of them?"

  " 'Tis true," admitted the pirate. "This man owns all the loadbearin' cattle in the city. Aside from ridin' horses that ain't strong enough, we got no choice but t' go through him." Chadwick watched me smugly.

  As if I wasn't pissed off enough, the last thing I wanted to do was shell out more silver just to settle a dispute. Nooner wasn't killing with kindness, but at least he'd had a legitimate dispute. Chadwick, on the other hand, just wanted an easy payday. I couldn't let him prey on the Black Hats like that.

  Luckily, my previous payment might go even further than I thought.

  "You want money?" I asked, nodding to Gladius to signal that I had the situation under control. "How much are you asking for unrestricted access?"

  The gangster hooked his hands on his belt and pushed his belly out. "I charge by the day. Today's gonna cost you..."—he studied me, wondering how much he could take me for—"25 silver." Before I could respond, he added, "Per wagon."

  "Outrageous," spat Errol. "We got the same taxes in Shorehome, but least the ones doin' the askin' be city authorities. If ye wanna scam me, ye best be kinder than that."

  I raised a calm hand. "No, no, that's a reasonable price." Chadwick's eyes glinted. "How about you take it out of the 2,000 silver you owe me for spotting Nooner the money you stole from his bank account?"