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

by Domino Finn

  I stood and readied the dragonspear. The Brothers in Black kneeled low, hands on daggers.

  It was all for nothing.

  The two shadowy bodyguards twisted sideways like dust devils and struck with spinning tendrils. Both level-5 gangsters were immediately decapitated. Heads bounced to great applause. Idle bodies tripped over themselves and rag-dolled in the dirt. The shadow creatures swirled and slowed almost to the point of dissipating before materializing beside their master. Brugo yawned, Hadrian relaxed, and the black-clad cutthroats retook their positions.

  The crowd fucking loved it. Their energy zapped us like a live wire. Even Brugo abandoned his apathy and conceded a smile. I grumbled, hitched the dragonspear in the ground, and reclaimed my seat.

  The Papa of all Papas leaned forward in his throne and the audience silenced. "Death pleases the people," he stated matter-of-factly.

  "It's..."—my mouth twisted—"just a few bad apples."

  "Nonsense. It's the human condition. All men hunger for power."

  I kept my eyes on his bodyguards. "Not all men command living shadows."

  He vainly laughed. For the first time, the crime boss turned to admire the creatures. "My stalwart pets. They do put on a good show. Their power is great. But you and me, Talon, ours is greater. Without lifting a finger, your people rose to your support and cast your problem away. That is not unlike what my bodyguards did. That is power. That is respect."

  I got a pinging notification.

  Everchat Hail:

  Tad Lonnerman

  He must've completed his task. Or run into problems preventing him from doing so. I needed to get back to him, but it wasn't possible in public. Everchat required the privacy of a safe zone. I would need to wait until returning to Dragonperch.

  I dismissed the notification and resumed my discussion with Brugo. "I just think it doesn't bode well for a peace summit to begin with violence." So much for not believing in bad omens.

  "And that is where we are different. Power must be brandished from time to time. As with that spear of yours, its existence must be proven. Otherwise you and me are nothing more than philosophers." The leader of Shorehome leaned back to the sounds of amusement. "As I said," he confidently repeated, "death pleases the people."

  Hadrian didn't meet my eyes. Lash stoically gazed ahead. I wasn't really into leadership for the sport of it, but I reminded myself why we were here.

  "Peace and war go hand in hand," I announced for all to hear, "because what is treasured must be defended."

  "You are a poet now!" Brugo's belly jiggled as he laughed. "Pretty words that ring true. And they lead us to our common problem. The saints."

  The crowd was fired up. This latest piece of information divided them. The saints had a lot of supporters. The saints also had their fill of critics. The more moderate folks were stuck in the middle, indecisive yet caught up in the mood.

  I raised my voice above the din. "The saints are not our enemies."

  "Loras tried to kill you." Boos.

  "Working against the developers. Saint Peter supports our independence. Despite his requested absence, he approves of this summit."

  "The Brothers in Black do not seek his approval. Look at our audience and your loyal Black Hats. See how the city watch stands behind you. Everyone in this Arena knows you're in charge of Stronghold, Talon. Perhaps everybody save you."

  Cheers rang out on that note. It felt strange to acknowledge my status out in the open like that. The people really were on my side whole-cloth now. This summit was turning into a revolution. This was why Brugo wanted a public show in the first place. I hesitantly glanced at Gladius, who watched me with fierce pride.

  "I won't have Saint Peter vilified," I asserted. "He's more than a developer; he's a personal friend."

  The people quieted. Some briefly shouted in support. Brugo studied me with the overconfidence of a bully, but he didn't push.

  "Besides," I added, "there are still some things I can't do. Saint Peter?"

  With an unassuming flash, the white robe blinked to my side. A golden twig crown resting on thinning hair, a generous beard of white, and strangely buff calves wrapped in knee-high sandal straps.

  "What's this?" snapped Brugo, enraged.

  "A compromise," I answered. "A token of friendship. And a gift." I stood and stepped to Brugo's throne.

  He seethed. "I demanded a general meeting without saintly intervention!"

  "Then you would never have their blessing." I handed Brugo a pearl. He grabbed the item and studied it. "The Black Hats do not seek war," I explained. "We will preserve peace with peace whenever possible. Any who support that cause, including the saints, should have our protection."

  Hadrian studied the gift in Brugo's hands. "That's a dove pearl, meant to be used in sanctums like Dragonperch and Underkeep."

  "And a useful building block for a headquarters," I added.

  "But headquarters require factions. Official factions."

  Saint Peter cleared his throat. "Which require saintly approval."

  "Bah!" spat Brugo. "I need no one's approval!"

  Hadrian leaned into his master. "Why not heed their words?" he persuaded. "So long as they bear out, why risk the wrath of the angels in the core city?"

  Brugo's mouth twisted into a sloppy frown. "Peace with peace?" As he pondered a response to his own question, trumpets sounded from the west gate. Hadrian and the rogues turned at the horns. Brugo's eyes hardened. "What's this now?"

  Gladius shuffled to the northern exit of the Arena. On the outskirts, the city watch stiffened to attention.

  "Someone's approaching the gates," mumbled Kyle.

  Brugo snorted. "You speak of peace with attackers at your doorstep?"

  "No," I hurried. This couldn't be trouble. Not now.

  Gladius rushed over. "General Azzyrk and the goblin horde are skirting the tended lands." As he finished his report, similar warning trumpets blared from the other side of the city. The commander's head snapped to his soldiers. "Get me eyes over the east gate."

  The Brothers in Black grew just as unsettled as the audience. Brugo fumed. "Is it not war you seek? Is this a ruse, Talon of Stronghold?"

  "It's not," I swore.

  "You mean to surround us?"

  "That doesn't make sense. We already have you in the city. This isn't a trap. For all we know, the pagans might be sore at you for hanging their witches."

  Brugo whispered to his advisor. The crowd hooted and hollered and took to their feet. This revolution was bordering on a riot.

  "We're safe in Stronghold," I assured everyone. "These walls held against a titan. We rebuffed the goblin horde at full strength. General Azzyrk just collected the leftovers."

  "And the east gate?" questioned Hadrian. "This appears to be more coordinated than a disgruntled general in exile."

  Watchmen hurried over to Gladius. "Humans amassing on the road," they reported. "Bandits, by the looks of them."

  I scanned the audience for more mobsters. This was too big for Nooner and Chadwick, surely. "Bandits and goblins," I stated calmly. "They have no chance of breaching the walls."

  "Never say never," countered the commander of the city watch. "They can ram the gates and scale the walls. We should postpone the summit. I need to defend against a siege." He drew his flaming sword and mustered every soldier in the Arena.

  I scowled at the development. If I was in charge of this city, what did it say about me when I couldn't hold a peace summit without gangsters, goblins, and bandits getting in the way?

  The Whisperer leaned to his liege. "We should consider retreat, Papa."

  Brugo's eyes flared. "I do not turn tail and run."

  "Even if you're in the grips of an elaborate trap?"

  "It's not a trap," I asserted. "I guaranteed your safety in the city. You have it."

  Hadrian frowned. "And what of our men outside the city? They're defenseless on the ship."

  "You wish me to seek harbor with the saints?" scof
fed Brugo.

  I gripped the dragonspear at my side. "The saints aren't the ones who'll be doing the fighting."

  The powerful crime boss turned to his advisor.

  "The world has never seen walls higher than Stronghold's," reasoned Hadrian.

  "Bring them in," concluded Brugo. His eyes met mine. "Bring my people into the city. If they must fight, they'll do it alongside everyone else."

  I turned to Gladius and nodded. The city watch dutifully marched from the Arena to man the walls. Lines of troops, with many more at the gates and Pantheon. I had the impending feeling we'd need to follow real soon. "Peter?" I urged.

  The saint made the sign of the cross towards Papa Brugo. "Whether you wish it or not, in the name of peace and goodwill, I give you my blessing."

  Global Haven Alert:

  Saint Peter has formed a new faction: the Brothers in Black.

  The Papa's eyes lit up.

  "Will you strike an alliance?" I asked carefully.

  "Will you fight?" he asked in response.

  I set my jaw and nodded.

  "So we are here for peace, but must make war to win it." Brugo's misshapen lips twisted.

  His advisor grew unsettled. "You would buy our allegiance with gifts?"

  It had worked before, with the wildkins, but I didn't say that. "This is a means for peace," I stressed.

  Hadrian turned to the crime boss. "Patience, Papa. Let us see this skirmish through. We can judge the Black Hats based on the outcome."

  "And the saints?" he questioned.

  I jerked my head. Saint Peter nodded and disappeared, leaving the Black Hats as the only official representatives of Stronghold remaining in the Arena. I leaned toward the enigmatic crime boss. "You can trust us, Brugo. I swear it."

  The Papa of all Papas pressed his lips together, avenues of thought represented by the many arguing voices in the audience. He pondered long and hard, as a showman would. When his lips finally parted, you could hear a leaf settle on the ground.

  "Trust is a dangerous concept," said the big man, every eye in the house on him. "I do not trust anyone, not even my own Whisperer." Hadrian lowered his gaze. "You claim to trust this saint. That speaks well to his character, but speaks ill of yours."

  The crime boss took a ponderous breath before continuing. "A long time ago, after I was excoriated for my crimes—after I was cast out by my own mother—I found myself listless in the streets. Not a Papa, not a boss, not even an accomplished thief. Yet my guile was unerring, my drive unassailable. These qualities attracted my mentor's eye."

  Brugo sighed as he recollected days of yore. "I was barely a man when the old soul took me in. He fed me, clothed me, and trained me. There was a pack of us, roving the streets for unwitting marks. We were a team. As my skills improved and his health failed, the old man even deigned to call me his partner and successor. I took a shine to my new role, my first taste of leadership. Do you know what my dear partner did?" Brugo waited only a moment, growling his own answer. "He and his two best men stabbed me in the back seventeen times and left me for dead."

  The Papa sneered at his tale of the frailty of trust. I cast a sidelong glance at my people. Izzy wore a worried look. Kyle checked his character sheet, staring at the small gap of XP he needed to level. Lash continued her impression of a statue. She was so focused on the crime boss I couldn't get a glance of warning in edgewise.

  Talon: I don't like this.

  I casually opened my menu and moved to the brigade controls, making the gesture as innocuous as possible, but there was only so much you could do to hide a menu interface. Luckily, NPCs like Brugo didn't take overt notice of such player actions.

  Brigade invite sent to [Lash]

  "I didn't die, of course," continued the bold Papa. "I made my two compatriots pay for their treachery first. I wanted the old man to see the fruit of his actions. To feel the fear I did while bleeding out in the street." He raised a palm to the packed Arena. "To give a public show of power. I strung those two traitors up by their heels in the fish market. The gulls picked at their overripe flesh for hours."

  I kept checking the invite but Lash wasn't accepting. I sent it again.

  "My mentor tried to rally a posse for me after that, but what kind of man serves one who can't protect those closest to him? Alone and isolated, my mentor had no choice but to go on the run. He didn't get far. And when I dragged him through the streets and staked him to the boardwalk of my city, it wasn't me who rent the flesh from his bones. It was his men, now mine. I wanted the old man to know he was truly alone in death, without a soul to trust." Brugo leaned forward with a snarl. "Power was the only thing I placed my trust in. Power was what won me the day. Not hearts and minds but fear, raw and unadulterated."

  The band of cutthroats grew itchy fingers. Even Hadrian tensed. But the shadowy bodyguards behind him roiled as if riding a slow flame, easy and smooth. My knuckles on the dragonspear went white.

  Papa Brugo turned to appraise Lash. His saggy smile was a menacing, disgusting sight. Then he turned his study to Izzy, and I saw admiration.

  "It is no wonder you've earned their respect." His eyes fixed on me. "You are a powerful man, Talon, and powerful men hold sway. If the saints see your power, and our power together, perhaps they will settle for true peace."

  The Whisperer's hood snapped to his master in surprise.

  "I make no oaths of friendship with them," announced the Papa, "but if the saints remain true to their word, so shall I. May our future pursuits be prosperous."

  "This is a mistake," warned Hadrian.

  A prompt flashed before me.

  The Brothers in Black request an Alliance with the Black Hats!

  Accept?

  I hid my relief as the corner of my mouth crooked in satisfaction. The timing was perfect. Another notification interrupted me before I could respond.

  [Lash] has joined your brigade

  "Idiot!" muttered Hadrian. The alliance request vanished. "That never happened."

  Brugo grumbled and turned to his advisor. "What never happened?"

  "That story. With your mentor."

  "Of course it happened. I was there."

  "It's your backstory," expounded Hadrian. "Your programmed history. To give you color."

  Brugo's eyes went red. "I. Killed. That. Man."

  The Whisperer snorted. "And where did he respawn? And the two other traitors, for that matter? It never happened. None of your damned history happened. It's a fairy tale."

  The Brothers in Black scraped their daggers free. One of the mercenaries pulled a long blade free from his cloak. I recognized it. The third of its kind. An assassin needle. I knew the bandit wielding it too. [Chico - Level 6 Highwayman].

  I sprang to my feet. "Brugo! Watch out!"

  The cutthroat plunged the enchanted dagger deep into the back of the Papa's neck. The crime boss jerked to his feet, bashed the rogue to the ground like a rotting mailbox, and let out a mighty roar.

  Every weapon on the field of the Arena was drawn.

  Fifty Brothers in Black leapt from the stands. Their deft boots pattered to the dirt, and fifty more daggers were produced. Portcullises slammed and sealed the exits of the Arena. My team scrambled to put our backs together and cover all threats while the band of cutthroats closed in.

  1380 SpyParty

  The highwayman assassin rolled to his feet and lunged at the crime boss to finish the job. Brugo caught Chico and wrapped oversize fingers around his neck. "Insolent gnat," he spat.

  The highwayman used his fist like a hammer and pounded the knife, still embedded in Brugo's neck, deeper. The Papa's knees wavered, but his resolve fought on. Spittle dribbled from his sagging cheek as he squeezed the life out of his would-be assassin.

  Savage!

  [Papa Brugo] dealt 167 damage to [Chico]

  [Chico] is dead!

  The limp body dropped to the ground. The other rogues closed in.

  Small axes blinked into each of Brugo's hands. He fende
d off a platinum lance with one and struck down a goblin traitor with the other.

  "Fools," bellowed the stubborn crime boss, dagger still protruding from his neck. For all its impressive backstab damage, Brugo was only missing 40% of his health. His head swiveled to his advisor. "You did this, Whisperer?"

  Another Brother charged him with a sword. The Papa brought both axes together, crunching her body and severing her spine in two places.

  Hadrian's class changed from [Advisor] to [Spymaster]. "The plan was to make my move in Oldtown, to strike at the heart of the Black Hats before they had a chance to react, but no—your fragile ego saw the grandest building in the city and just had to be at its center." Hadrian huffed in frustration. "No matter, I've got Talon's Alpha and Bravo teams right here. I—"

  Lash struck like a king cobra, in full swing before the cleaver materialized in her hands. The sudden transition from statue to predator took even the spymaster by surprise. Her heavy blade caught him center mass. As she powered through her swing, his black cloak crumpled around her sword and flapped in the wind. Hadrian rolled backward, free and clear, just barely pulling off the lifesaving skill escape. Now dressed in tight-fitting brown leathers, his eyes were wide with relieved indignation.

  "Pull back!" ordered Hadrian. The contingent of Brothers in Black closed around their spymaster. Some of their hoods fell away. [Jackie - Level 8 Dragoon]. [Colt - Level 7 Cowboy]. Along with their fallen comrade, Chico, they formed the Rough Riders, a group of bandits who terrorized the lands surrounding Shorehome.

  "Ha ha ha!" boomed Brugo heartily, his axes toys in his meaty hands. "You may be a lot of things, Whisperer, but you are no fighter. You can't fake your level, and no one with single digits can take down the Papa of all Papas."