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

by Domino Finn

  "I have been ignoring you lately, haven't I?" I asked idly. "I'll make it up to you. One second."

  I slipped away into the underground grotto and followed the mazelike corridors until I stopped at a statue near the hidden grotto entrance. It was a bust of some long-gone distinguished woman. I reached into the wall alcove behind it and wrapped my fingers around the item I had forgotten was there. The gold Nintendo cartridge twinkled in the ambient light.

  [Bit Key]

  This anachronistic cartridge gives admin access to the Oculus, the game console.

  I produced a discreet satin sack, placed the bit key inside for safekeeping, and stuffed it deep into my inventory. I returned up the stairs to find the mounts still waiting for me. I paused, horrified, and plugged my nose.

  "Okay, which one of you farted?"

  Artax stuck his nose in the air. Bandit jawed at peanut butter stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  "Ugh, I guess that was my fault. No more people food for you. How about some exercise?"

  I opened the impressive tower doors and marched toward fresh air.

  Outside, the morning appeared as any other. The prominence of the day wasn't outwardly visible, as long as you didn't count the corny flyers Kyle had posted to the slate defense turrets: "Guildhall Grand Opening! No Free Drinks!"

  I chuckled nervously. The pub party was trivial compared to the summit with Papa Brugo. And then there was what I had to take care of first. My nerves made me hyperaware of how normal everything looked. I leaned on familiar routine to steady myself.

  Black Hat Headquarters

  Level: 2

  HQXP: 5 / 8

  HQR: 32

  Daily HQR Production: 14

  Current Buildings

  Guildhall

  Brothel

  Barracks

  Lumberyard

  Vault

  Nice. A completed vault was good news. One more piece of legitimacy for the Black Hats. That was expected.

  My total headquarters resource production, however, was a surprise. As I strolled toward the vault, I ran into Jixa and her crew being shown around by Kyle, of all people.

  "Hey, bro," he called out. "Hope you don't mind, but I invited our new builders into the faction."

  Of course. We'd had about ten of Errol's pirates helping with building duties. With their abysmal craft experience and even worse work ethic, they had combined for 1 total HQR per day. Jixa's crew of six ogres and four goblins, including herself, were worth 5. We were legit.

  Black Hats

  Faction Level: 2

  Members: 60 / 100

  War

  Catechists

  Armistice

  Pagans

  Movin' on up, slowly but surely. I shook Jixa's hand. "Glad to have you in the Black Hats."

  "Lots to builds here," answered the goblin. "Jixa happy. Baz even more happy. He moveses rubble for fun."

  The ogre of few words stomped forward and gave me a bear hug. I stifled a grunt and instinctually checked my health bar. Somehow I'd avoided a damage notification.

  "Glad to have you too, big guy." I peeled myself from the death grip.

  "They didn't have a place to sleep last night," explained Kyle. "I figured making them official would give them a respawn point while they stayed in the brothel."

  "Naked yoomans silly," added Baz.

  Jixa nodded. "Too much snu snu."

  Was that phrase universal or something?

  "Damn," I realized. "I should've taken care of that last night. Thanks for picking up my slack on that, Kyle."

  "No worries. I'm practically running the faction already."

  "A man can dream. And your team is welcome in the barracks, Jixa."

  The brewmaster patted Bandit's coat as we trekked to the latest construction site.

  "Hey, Kyle, you seen Izzy?"

  "Nah, why?"

  "No reason."

  The completed vault came into view, and we weren't the first admirers. A small crowd of Black Hats discussed the development. Trafford excitedly converged on us.

  "You really came through, Talon! Don't tell the pirates I said this, but they have no business slinging lumber. This new team can do anything." He watched the goblins and ogres with respect.

  "Thank Jixa. She's the one who runs a tight ship. We just commissioned her services."

  "A genius move, if ya ask me. These big guys hauled a day's worth of lumber in a little over an hour. They're really streamlining things around here."

  It had been a while since I'd seen the old man so chirpy. I smiled and sent him a party invite as I finished my daily upkeep. "Looks like everyone can take a few days off as we accumulate HQR. Just make sure to get the lumberyard nice and stocked first."

  "We'll get right on it," replied Trafford. "Once the guildhall opens, I might be MIA for a while." The buildmaster general pulled his team aside, having more fun than a codger like him had a right to.

  I approached the new building. "This is it, then." The small stone structure was extra sturdy, with a reinforced door and lock. I checked my silver.

  Coin

  Silver

  453

  Plates

  21

  Fellow faction members watched as I made the inaugural deposit. 300 coins and 20 plates, which counted for another 2,000. I was finally mostly immune to the mandatory silver drop. Kyle followed my example.

  I opened the broadcast menu.

  Black Hat Broadcast:

  Great news, Black Hats. The vault is now open for business! Safeguard your silver at no cost to you.

  The faction members in attendance cheered.

  I stepped aside as Drummond meekly approached. He conducted several lengthy deposits before turning and spending skill points. His class description changed before our eyes. [Drummond - Level 3 Banker].

  "You finally got your class kit."

  "Thanks to you," he replied. "I also worked out deals with various shops throughout the city. Black Hats will be taxed when they sell looted inventory. They're on the honor system for found silver, but most profit comes from trade. I'm now keeping the faction's books. And the shopkeepers are participating because I can bank for them on the house."

  "Brilliant, Drummond. I knew you'd be a big help."

  He excused himself and began assisting the line of players and NPCs. Some would be suspicious of parting with their money, but I was confident everyone would benefit from the new vault. Kyle helped keep order, though I suspected he was just keeping close to Jixa. Grimwart's horse had similarly wandered away from Bandit. Oldtown didn't offer much in the way of grazing.

  "We don't need them," I told the mountain bongo. The two of us continued on to the brothel. Pirates busted into cheers as I entered.

  "Thar he is," chimed Grug, already mid story with his shipmates who hadn't made the voyage. "That man ran along the mast like a squirrel, he did."

  "Sounds like a song in the making," I suggested.

  Grom took to his feet. "What in the Maelstrom is a squirrel?"

  "It's a little critter that runs up trees, ye daft fool!"

  They laughed and shoved each other in merry boisterousness. "Three cheers fer the hero at sea!" they cried. "And three more fer gettin' us off build duty!"

  I laughed and accepted a tankard of ale. It wasn't a pirate ditty, but it was appreciation nonetheless. I waited till they were calm so I could speak. It took a while so I got a good drink in.

  "Really, you guys, I should be thanking you. Each one of you pledged yourself to me. You've fought with your lives. You've hauled lumber and done what needed to be done. You've earned your place in the Black Hats." They were strangely reverent for a split second. Instead of letting that ruin the moment, I added, "Even you, Grom, you horny bastard."

  The room exploded with laughter. Everybody slapped Grom on the shoulders and lauded his dalliance with the sirens. He had safely respawned, of course, and apparently the shipmates would have thought less of him if he hadn't gone overboard.
A pirate had a reputation to keep.

  I sidestepped the rowdy group and searched for Crux, but he wasn't around. In the off chance the thief was still in Oldtown, I moved to the barracks. He sat in a simple bed in the back of the room. It was quieter in here, but still public, where I'm sure Bravo Team often checked in.

  "Brugo and the Brothers in Black are in town," I reported, "in case you wanna keep a low profile or whatever." He didn't respond. "Everything's going as planned," I reminded. "The summit is the first step to consolidating power. A strong alliance against our enemies. After that, we can focus on getting Hex back."

  Crux afforded me a nod this time, but he wasn't enthusiastic.

  I rested my hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Black Hats don't give up. We cover each other. Don't forget that." He nodded again.

  This one-sided conversation was a far cry from the celebration of the pirates. It sobered me and focused my attention on the important tasks ahead. I left Crux in the barracks. He didn't need a shoulder to cry on. He was dealing with his situation and I'd deal with mine. I reunited with Bandit outside and continued the inspection.

  As we returned to the road, Dune waved from the closed door of the guildhall. I stopped and peeked in the windows. No one inside.

  "What are you doing here? You're not a Black Hat."

  "No," he said smugly. "But I'm always welcome. I was hoping to get a sneak peek of that new brew your man made. Word is he's really talented. Then again it can't be hard to compete with the piss at the Wicked Crow."

  "Kyle has the whole day to prep for the grand opening. He'll be around soon to give you a preview. If you're nice."

  "I'm always nice," joked the ranger. "I could use a good pint after the last two days in the wild."

  I gave a sympathetic grunt. "No luck on the Vagram front?"

  "That cleric covers his tracks well."

  That was impressive, since Dune was the best tracker I knew. His bright green cloak may have been gaudy, but when it came to business he was a professional. "So you didn't find anything?"

  He scoffed. "Found plenty, actually. Lots of goblin activity. War parties. Just nobody worth finding."

  "You mean nobody with a price on their head."

  He shrugged. "I hear you invited the Brothers in Black to town. You and sweeping political movements are like peanut butter and chocolate."

  Bandit pawed the ground and sniffed Dune's pockets. He arched a quizzical eyebrow.

  "Ixnay on the eanut-butter-pay," I chuckled. "Horrible things happen. Trust me."

  "I'm afraid to ask." Dune patted the bongo's head to soothe her disappointment. "Food metaphors aside, what's the play with Papa Brugo?"

  "You trying to move in on my alliance?"

  "Just a spectator sport, I swear. I've never met a crazier bastard in Haven than you, and I killed Rygar the Toothless. My party's sticking around as long as the Brothers do. Bound to be good XP when everything invariably goes to hell."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Just do me a favor and don't steer things in that direction, okay?"

  He shrugged and smiled. "Guarantees are like unicorns, Talon."

  Bandit snorted. I studied her inquisitively. "This is a fantasy world, Dune. Unicorns might actually exist."

  "Touché." He turned wistfully to the locked pub door. "So then, how about a congratulatory pint?"

  "I can't. I have something to do."

  He squinted suspiciously. "Wait a minute—I know that look. Things are going to hell quicker than I thought, aren't they?"

  "Laugh it up." I pointed down the road as Kyle approached. "Besides, there's your meal ticket on the way. He'll give you a pint if you apologize for calling him a noncommittal slacker bro."

  "That was two weeks ago!" Dune's eyes went dull. "I'm not sure I'm capable of apologizing."

  "Easier than finding unicorns. Or clerics." I started to head off in the opposite direction. "It might be worth it this time. The dude's preparing Hot Pockets."

  "He has—" Dune's jaw seized up. He turned to Kyle and called from a distance. "Good sir, I beseecheth you, hear me." The green cloak whipped in the wind toward the brewmaster.

  I shook my head with a chuckle. It was a good morning so far. Solid faction morale, excitement in the air, and no sign of Nooner or Chadwick. And while a pint would've been the day's natural progression, my nerves were about as calm as they were gonna get. Bandit followed as I left Oldtown, walked through the Forum, and approached the Pantheon.

  1360 Black Ops

  My footsteps echoed between the Corinthian columns leading to the capitol building. Golden figures with wings perched above, suspended in place but not in permanence. The two angels Lucifer had hacked were noticeably absent, their brothers unaware of the loss or, at least, expressionless.

  I moved up the steps, unsure what resistance I might face, but determined to do what needed to be done. On the triangular portico roof, the seventh angel, Decimus, stood at the peak. A rallying force. A source of guidance. I wondered if they would defend the city against Oakengard, if it came to it.

  Bandit and I stepped inside the Pantheon. Her clacking hooves against the pristine tile reminded me of the last time I'd come here with the bit key. It was empty then as it was now. Some things never changed.

  We were almost at the archway leading to the rotunda when centurions hiding behind pillars fanned out around us. Saint Peter revealed himself on an overhead balcony.

  "For a level-10 assassin, you really should learn to mask your movements better."

  I gritted my teeth. "I'm not an assassin, Peter."

  "No? Not yet, perhaps, but it would be a surprising legendary ability to pass up. It's powerful and rare, and I don't see you as a dungeon support class. Trust me, you'll choose assassin. I know people."

  My jaw flexed as he patiently stepped down the stairs. I eyed the sword-wielding centurions. "Where's Gladius?"

  "He's preparing his men for the summit, as you should be." Peter's sandals hit the floor. He frowned at Bandit and approached cautiously. "What are you up to, Talon?"

  I sighed. "I'm not an assassin and I'm not sneaking around. I brought along a quarter-ton farting machine for chrissakes. Give me some credit."

  He canted his head to concede the point.

  "Call off your muscle," I said.

  "The centurions aren't here in ambush, Talon. Their job is protecting the Pantheon. The Oculus and the Eye of Orik must be guarded against thieves. And assassins."

  This time he was speaking of Brugo's men. The last time soldiers were welcomed into the city, they'd occupied the Pantheon.

  "Don't worry about the central hub," I said. "The Black Hats are sworn to protect Stronghold. We'll die for the city."

  The old man stroked his beard. It was a funny affectation considering he almost certainly didn't have one that long in the real world. The white robe was just a skin. A suit. His rock-hard calves were probably the only honest thing about him.

  "I believe you," he decided. "Which is why I want to show you something." He led the way toward the rotunda. The centurions parted so we could pass. "Leave the beast out here, if you please."

  I rubbed the spot on Bandit's head between her horns and nodded. Saint Peter and I zoned into the rotunda. White light filled my vision and faded, leaving us in relative privacy under a large dome. An architectural oculus revealed open sky above. Sunlight shone down like a laser beam onto the altar on the far wall, a white table cloth with several flat screens placed atop.

  We stepped on the raised platform and moved to the alcove in the back wall. Saint Peter removed a white linen cover and revealed the tabernacle, the holy box that stored the pagan artifact the city was founded on.

  "There's something wrong with the Eye," he said as he unlocked the safe.

  A six-inch-thick steel door opened. The Eye of Orik was a ruby gemstone. A treasure by any measure. Now, however, it looked like magic. Red light from within pulsed erratically.

  "What's it doing?"

 
Peter shook his head. "As you know, the artifact gives life to Orik."

  I nodded. The petrified titan kneeled beside Dragonperch. While the cyclops was anything but pliable, the boggart witches had woken the giant with the Eye and had him attack the town.

  "The Eye of Orik also keeps pagans out of the city, as long as it's under saintly control. As you can see, it is under saintly control."

  I stared at the blinking artifact until Peter shut the tabernacle and once again covered it with linen. "Then what's the problem?"

  The saint frowned. "The Eye is sensing something amiss. A threat to Stronghold. Pagans are near."

  I pondered the possibilities. The boggart witches were loose again. Potentially in the southern mountains. Or closer. What had Dune reported? The goblin General Azzyrk was still leading a war-hungry band somewhere.

  "That can't be right. The pagans were defeated. On a whole, they're not even our enemies. I have an armistice with them."

  "I wonder if that's the problem," noted Peter.

  I frowned. "I walked pagans into the city."

  I'd done it before. In order to oust Bishop Tannen, I'd invited King Theoderic and his wildkins through the imposing walls of Stronghold. They counted as pagans at the time, before their own faction was officialized. But the only reason that worked was because Tannen was in possession of the Eye. The absence of saintly control had afforded the possibility.

  This time, Peter retained possession of the artifact. Yet Jixa and Baz were now Stronghold residents. Some of the attending Brothers in Black were no doubt goblins. These instances, again, were only possible due to a loophole. Newly armed with free will, these pagans had abandoned their faction proper.