by G. R. Cooper
"Even if he did," countered Rydra, "how do you know that he wanted you to take the bait? Did you ever consider that this is a test that you're failing spectacularly?"
Wulfgar admitted to himself that he hadn't considered that. He'd been so drawn into the obviousness of his actions that he'd never thought that maybe the town and the control of it was a temptation that Clive wanted - hoped - that Wulfgar wouldn't take. He shook his head.
Don't forget, he reminded himself, that pissing off Clive was one of the desirable outcomes.
His anger at the seemingly overt manipulation that he'd been subject to hadn't abated. He told Rydra as much.
"I get that, my friend, I truly do. I just hope that you get why I don't want to be in the middle of it."
"I guess I do," answered Wulfgar sadly, "but I was hoping ..." he reached down and began taking off his gauntlets.
"Don't be melodramatic," chuckled Rydra kindly, reaching across the little table and stopping Wulfgar's hands, "I'm not taking those back. And we are still friends." He looked up into Wulfgar's eyes earnestly. "And," he laughed suddenly, "you're not off the hook. I still need you to sneak into Clive's keep with me. It's a two man job. I can't do it alone."
"I'll need a couple of days," sighed Wulfgar, buckling the gauntlets that Rydra had loaned him the day they'd met. The gauntlets that gave him +7 in his Stealth. They'd proved invaluable and Wulfgar was relieved that the little man didn't want them back, yet.
Rydra nodded, "Take your time. I imagine that you've got a lot to take your attention right now." The thief pushed his chair back and stood. "As for me, I have other business to attend to this week."
"You're leaving?"
"Mmmhmmm," smiled Rydra, bowing, "your majesty."
"I thought we could ride back together." Even thought Wulfgar didn't have any specific role that Rydra could help him with, he'd been looking forward to the man's advice and counsel.
"I'll be making best speed. It won't be a leisurely ride back, like our way here." He laughed and attempted a Texan accent, "I'll be puttin' the spurs to her all the way back."
"How long will that take?" asked Wulfgar.
Rydra shrugged, pushed his chair back under the table, "Not sure. Maybe a day." He walked around the table, leaned down to kiss Wulfgar on the forehead, then waved goodbye to the crowd and left the tavern.
Chapter 10
Wulfgar opened his eyes and rolled over in his new bed. He looked at Lauren, snuggled into the deep pile of blankets, sleeping softly. He smiled. She looked happy, carefree. After several rounds of tequila in the tavern, she'd looked him in the eyes, laughed, and told him that she'd never slept with a king before.
It's good to be the king, he chuckled inwardly as he stretched.
He slipped quietly out of bed and walked to the western window. He framed the window with his hands as he leaned forward and looked down into the town. The sun was just lightening, and John Tailor was opening his shop for the day. That reminded Wulfgar - he still needed to go back to the shop and pay for his upgraded cloak. He looked at the closed shop next to the tailor. The smithy.
Wulfgar felt arms slip around his waist and Lauren move into his back. He felt the side of her face pressed against his spine. His body rumbled a little as she purred.
"Good morning," she mumbled contentedly. Her hands moved across his stomach and she pulled herself in tight before releasing her hold and moving underneath his right arm. She poked her head out of the window.
"Whachoo lookin' at?"
"The town," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Your shop."
"Mine all mine!" she yawned happily.
"What did you do? Before all of this?" he asked. "I mean, I was a project manager for software development. A lot of what I did was assign tasks to people based on their abilities. I guess I kind of need to know what your abilities are, beyond what your character sheets says."
"I was a student. College. I wanted to be a teacher. Junior high-school. Science."
He thought for a moment.
"What all can you make, do you think, in your shop?"
"Swords. Knives. Armor. Pole-arms. The more difficult stuff is harder, but I should start to level up with all of the resources the dwarves are going to be bringing in."
"That's cool, but I mean what can you make. I mean, you've got a pre-industrial tool set. What does your knowledge give you? Do you know how to make a steam engine? Did you take any chemistry courses? Can you make gunpowder? Can you build a cast forge? Can you make me a cannon?"
"Whoah," she laughed, "hold on. The simple answer is, I don't know. I've never done anything except to activate a recipe, pound on some metal, and wait for the result. I've never actually tried to build anything."
"But could you?"
"Like I said, I don't know. I can sure as hell try. But what you're asking me to do is to basically re-invent the industrial revolution. That will take some thought."
She leaned back into his chest, silent for a minute.
"First of all, you're going to need fuel. Lots of fuel. My little magic based forge can heat up enough metal to make a sword, so I might be able to construct a steam engine. But how are you going to power it? As far as I know, there's no coal in this world. That means you'll need trees. A lot of trees."
He hugged her to himself and nodded. He would have to talk to Connor before the ranger left to explore the forests of the elves; to let the man know that if he was able to establish relations with them, to sound them out about how amenable they were to selling logging rights in their woods. If the elves of this world were anything like their brethren in fantasy literature, they would probably tend to think of the trees as sacred. Connor would have to broach the subject carefully, making no promises without first coming back to talk to Wulfgar. Wulfgar also needed to remember to ask the dwarves if they knew of anything like coal.
"There's a lot to consider," he agreed, "but do me a favor and use the perfect memory in that gorgeous little head and see if you can go back through some of your science text books. Get some real world recipes for anything you can think we might need."
"I will. We're lucky in one thing, though. The metals that the dwarves will mine are pure. We don't have to worry about refining them. Instead of a iron ore, they bring us steel."
"That is good." Wulfgar knew that the history of firearms seem to develop alongside the smith's ability to cast metals that had been purified. Early examples of cannons were as likely to explode due to a flaw in their casting as they were to fire a projectile. He didn't hold out any hope that Lauren would be able to produce anything like long range artillery for him, but Napoleonic era cannon loaded with grapeshot lined along his battlements would provide him with a distinct edge over any marauding force that was only equipped with medieval weaponry.
"Assuming chemistry and physics function in this world they way they do outside," he murmured. He sighed. There was a lot he had to take care of, a lot of planning and delegating. He kissed Lauren on the top of her head and began thinking through his to-do list for the day.
Wulfgar walked out of the keep into the morning sun and toward the inn. He'd left Lauren with a lot to think about, and the conversation had added to his load of worries as well. But, he admitted, it also added a great deal of possibility. He wasn't so much interested in creating a technical revolution; he just wanted to be ready to defend himself whatever was thrown at him. He realized that he didn't have much in the way of an army - or even a militia - so he needed what the U.S. Army would refer to as "force multipliers"; weapons that would serve to make his lightly trained villagers able to at least defend walls from attacks by highly trained warriors - human or otherwise. He made a mental note to ask Lauren to look into crossbows. They were much easier to use and didn't require near the amount of training and practice as the longbow.
"Good morning, your majesty!" bellowed Snorri as Wulfgar walked into the tavern.
Wulfgar pulled up a chair and joined the warrior for br
eakfast.
"Just the man I wanted to see," he began, then, softly, "lay off the majesty crap, OK? It's bad enough with the NPC's."
As if on cue, a server approached the pair and curtsied to Wulfgar. She put a huge platter of scrambled eggs and sausages on the table. Snorri grunted as Wulfgar began eating.
"I suppose I can share my breakfast," he growled good naturedly.
Wulfgar looked down at the huge plate and the mound of food. He raised one eyebrow.
"What?" said the warrior defensively, "it's the most important meal of the day, yanno!" He wagged a sausage at Wulfgar.
Wulfgar laughed and took a bite of his own wurst.
"Just the man I wanted to see," he repeated through a mouthful of pork and spices, "I've got a special mission for you."
"Perfect! Is it dangerous?" The blond giant grinned.
"Probably the most dangerous thing you've ever done!" laughed Wulfgar. "I want you to train the villagers in basic fighting techniques. They'll need to be able to help out on the walls if we get attacked. Train archery. Pole-arms. Basic armor. A cuirass and a helmet. Figure out what equipment you need and give Lauren a list."
"Wait. What walls?"
"First things first. Train the villagers."
"That doesn't sound dangerous," grunted Snorri.
"Imagine her," Wulfgar said nodding toward the little tavern server, "with a bow and arrow. Or a pole-arm."
"I'm a dead man," said Snorri in mock severity. "Tell my wife I loved her."
"That's the spirit. Think you can do it?"
"Sure. Does it come with a promotion?"
Wulfgar laughed, "Whatever you want. Sergeant First Class?"
"I was thinking General of the Army!"
"Build me an army and we'll talk about it," chuckled Wulfgar lightly, winking at his friend.
Wulfgar patted Connor on the back. He was still unsure of how he should interact with the other players. He knew that any sort of pretend nobility would probably cause even Lauren to drop him and leave the village - and that was just as well, he didn't feel in any way like a Lord or King. He wanted to think of his friends - old and new - as his partners. Much like he had with Phani and the space station.
God, that seems like so long ago.
He reflected that even in the accelerated game time of this world, it had only been two weeks since he'd committed to this realm fully. He wondered if his unconscious - literally - body in the outside world had even reached the point where it had removed the Omegaverse helmet and gone to bed, to die.
Two weeks!
He laughed inwardly, remembering the comment sections in the news articles describing how he - a new player - had found a priceless space station in the Omegaverse. Disbelief and anger had permeated the threads.
How would those people react if they found out I'd already become the lord of this, albeit tiny, realm in this world.
They'd probably bitch and moan that he hadn't earned it. That it was yet another unbelievable episode in an already far-fetched story line. He shrugged. Even if they knew the whole truth behind the story - even if they knew that he was being manipulated - some people would still bitch and moan.
You could get some people laid and they'd still complain.
Wulfgar looked into the Connor's eyes. He needed the ranger, needed his help. The man wasn't an elf-friend, but he wasn't a dwarf-friend either, so he at least would begin his embassy as a neutral party. To that end, Wulfgar had explained to him that he wouldn't establish Connor as a town-owner until he'd returned from his mission. All of the others - RaNay, Lauren, Snorri, Catcher, and Corwin - had also received the dwarf-friend flag when Wulfgar had made them owners. He assured Connor that he would receive the owner flag as soon as his mission to the elves was over, assuming he wanted it.
"Any questions?"
"Seems fairly straightforward," nodded Connor. He pulled the green hood, draped over the back of his long cape, over his forehead, shadowing his face. "I have no idea how long it will take."
"Take your time. It's important." Wulfgar laughed, "But don't get killed. We need you here."
Connor nodded, smiled, then turned and walked toward the northwest. Wulfgar watched him for a minute, feeling a little envy. The thought of heading off into the deep forest, alone, into unknown lands to seek out and find a hopefully friendly population of elves appealed to Wulfgar; much more than the thought of running the town.
But that's not fated to be my role. Not yet, anyway.
He turned and walked across the little square, nodding to the various NPC's wandering about their business. Wulfgar felt a little bad - he begun looking at each of his "subjects" and evaluating their use. Would the old miller, bent from years of operating the stone grinder, be of use in a picket line? Would the rotund inn-keep be able to draw a bow and fire it with any distance or accuracy? He hated that he had begun to categorize people - real or artificial - based on his perception of how useful they would be to him.
Wulfgar knocked on the window sill of John Tailor's shop. The craftsman appeared out of the shadows, his gruff countenance quickly replaced by a broad smile and a bow.
"Your lordship!" he smiled happily, then bent and pulled a long, furred cape from below and draped it over the sill. "And your cape! I hope your lordship is pleased!"
Wulfgar pulled the cape down then dragged it over his right shoulder and pulled it around his back. He pushed the bottom of the Cowl of the Wolf until it draped over the top of the cape. He felt his mana rise as his new cape increased his Intelligence by one. Given how hard it was to raise attributes in this world, he felt sure that the cape would, eventually, seem cheap even at the quoted cost.
He pulled out Tim's little leather purse from his belt and began pouring the coins onto the counter. He counted out four stacks of five gold coins then looked up at John Tailor.
The man had a horrified look on his face.
"That's far too much, m'lord. Far too much." He took one of the stacks and pushed the other three back to Wulfgar. "I'd not even charge you this much, but I must at least cover my costs."
Wulfgar wasn't about to argue the windfall in his favor. He didn't know if the change in heart - and in price - was the result of his becoming Lord of the town or because he'd changed the allegiance of the town to Highlanders. In any case, he was happy to be in debt to his familiar for only five gold pieces instead of twenty.
He nodded his thanks to the NPC, turned and began walking out of the village.
Wulfgar looked down from the top of the border keep, toward the northeast. The mountain that framed one steep edge of the pass that separated Marchstone from the lands of Heim rose precipitously a hundred meters away. There was already, after only a day, noticeable progress being made to the wall. Wulfgar wanted it to stretch from one end of the pass to the other. Roughly two hundred meters wide, the pass would serve to buffer either end of his fortification. Wonderfully, perfectly so. Sitting in the middle, and soon to become the centerpiece of his border, was Catcher's stone keep that he now stood upon.
"He's a wonder, truly he is," muttered the dwarf standing next to Wulfgar. His name was Owen and he led the dwarf expedition that had returned at their king's acceptance of Wulfgar's offer of alliance and trade. He only came up to Wulfgar's waist - he was short even for a dwarf - but he was a wide as the human and powerfully built. He was shaking his head in disbelief.
The team of dwarves was currently surveying the pass and laying out lines for the wall, while Tim the troll was bent, carving out the stone blocks for the wall from the ground to the front of the line. They had determined that the soil in the pass was shallow, alluvial. Wulfgar assumed that the pass had once served as the top of a waterfall and that the lake to the north of the village had been deeper at one point.
In any case, the result was that the troll was able to quarry the stone he needed to build the wall from directly in front of where the stones would be laid. That gave two advantages. The first was the the blocks wouldn't need to be t
ransported from a quarry and the second was the for every block laid there was a correspondingly deep increase in what would become a moat in front of the wall. Owen had suggested they dig down one-third the height, providing for a moat that was three times as wide as the wall was high. Wulfgar had agreed.
"I'm glad you've become accustomed to Tim's presence," nodded Wulfgar.
"More than that," chuckled Owen, "he's become a kind of mascot for us." He shook his head again, "And to think, a troll ..." he muttered almost to himself.
Tim had already excavated two large blocks and was well on his way to finishing the third. At the rate he was going the wall would be finished in a couple of months; and Tim showed no signs of slowing. He seemed to relish the chore. He had smiled grotesquely yet happily when Wulfgar had arrived and returned the troll's purse, then resumed cutting stone from the living rock. He was making an odd grumbling sound - like stones in a polisher - and it had taken Wulfgar a minute to determine that it sounded like the troll was humming, happy.
"I'm glad," repeated Wulfgar, turning to the foreman, "and there's something else I'd like to discuss with you." He waited for the dwarf's nod, then began, "If you have your people prepared here, I'd like you to check on something for me." He pointed to the north, "I want to see if you think it's feasible to create a tunnel in between the lake and this moat."
"Underneath the village?"
"Exactly," Wulfgar put his hand on the miner's shoulder in response to the look of worry that crossed his face, "but it's not as bad as all of that."
Wulfgar explained the cavern beneath the keep, how he thought that it extended nearly to the lake and well to the south of the town. He also warned Owen about the snake.
"Will ye want us to wall the snake into its room?"
"It's probably for the best, at least while our people are down there." He looked up the hill toward the town, "In any case, I'd just like your surveyors to try to map out the project at this point." Wulfgar also wondered if it would be possible to build a waterwheel into the cavern, to provide a means of hydro-power. He shook it off; he could worry about that after Owen had determined if the tunnel was even feasible.