Tinker, Tailor, Giant, Dwarf ( LitRPG Series): Difficulty:Legendary Book 2

by Gregg Horlock

  “Curious,” he said. “On its own, that would be interesting. It becomes more so when I tell you that I also received a note, and this one was anonymous too.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It said…,” started the mage, pausing for effect. “Remember to buy milk.”

  With that he started to chortle to himself, so much so that his shoulders shook. I sighed. First impressions don’t count for much, but I hadn’t imagined Ozreal to have a sense of humour.

  “So did you really get a note, or what?”

  He nodded. “So you’d like to be serious? Okay, then. I did get a note, young tinker. And mine said just two words.”

  He left a long pause as if he was a game show announcer stretching out the moments before he told us who the winner was. I was starting to think that as much as he pretended otherwise, this old mage loved attention.

  “And….?”

  Ozreal looked at me, and his face became serious. “My note read ‘Find Janus.’ So it would seem that we were meant to meet, wouldn’t it? Our paths are bound together.”

  “Any idea who sent yours?”

  Ozreal shook his head.

  Ahead of us, Smoglar suddenly dropped to the floor face-first. Brian ran over to him and kneeled beside his friend. He gently turned him over, and we saw that his nose had broken when he hit the ground, and blood trickled out from his nostrils. Smoglar didn’t stir for a few moments, and Brian looked worried.

  The dwarf blinked and then opened his eyes. He stared at us, confused. His HP had dropped to halfway, though looking around, I couldn’t see anything that could have hurt him.

  “What happened?” said Smoglar, his voice weak.

  Feidan stood over him. “It’s the hand,” he said.

  I looked at Smoglar’s hand, and I saw what he meant. The flesh between his index finger and thumb was so inflamed that it looked like it could burst. The rest of his hand was as grey as ash, and blue veins stuck out. It looked like the hand of a corpse.

  “Someone pass me a healing potion,” said Brian.

  Feidan shook his head. “That’ll restore some HP, but I’m afraid it won’t help your friend.”

  “What’s going on?” I said. I took a potion out of my bag and passed it to Brian, who uncorked it and tipped it in Smoglar’s mouth.

  Feidan crossed his arms. “I thought we got the antidote to him in time, but it seems I was wrong. Look at his hand. It’s plagued.”

  “So cook him up another antidote,” I said.

  Ozreal stood yards away from us. He spoke in his rough tone. “The dwarf is too far gone. The plague has his hand between its teeth, and it will soon bite down on the rest of him.”

  Brian looked around him. I had never seen him looking so worried. “There has to be something we can do.”

  Feidan and Ozreal exchanged glances. Something passed between them, a secret that the rest of us were oblivious to.

  “Will you two stop flirting and tell us what to do?” I said.

  Feidan took a deep breath. “There’s only one course of action left to take.”

  “The dwarf will have to lose the hand,” said Ozreal.

  Brian shook his head. “No way.”

  “He either loses the hand, or he dies,” said Feidan. “With a plague this advanced, no antidote will have any effect. It’s concentrated around the bite at the minute, but it won’t be long before it spreads. If you want him to live, he has to lose the hand.”

  Smoglar stirred on the ground. His forehead was damp with sweat, and when he spoke, his voice was weak. “I can’t blacksmith one-handed,” he said.

  “And you can’t do anything when you’re dead,” answered Feidan.

  Brian looked around as if he expected salvation to appear from somewhere in the boggy plains. Feidan and Ozreal’s faces were stern. I looked at Smoglar and Brian, and I couldn’t help but feel pity. Pity towards Smoglar because he would lose a hand, and toward Brian as well for the sadness he obviously felt at his friend’s plight.

  “We’re losing time,” said Feidan. “One of you must do it.”

  Brian swallowed. “I’ll do it.”

  “Can we give him anything for the pain?” I said.

  Ozreal stepped forward. “He’s barely conscious. By the time the blade meets his flesh, he’ll have passed out. There’s no sense in drawing this out, friends. Your choice is this; cut off his hand now, or lose him completely.”

  Brian removed Smoglar’s armour. He spread his arm across the ground and rolled up his sleeve to the elbow. The dwarf’s arm was still red, but his hand had lost colour completely. Brian took a cloth shirt out of his bag and tied it around Smoglar’s forearm.

  “One quick, clean, blow is all it will take,” said Ozreal.

  Brian lifted his hatchet in the air. At the top of his swing, he paused and stared at his friend. His arm started to shake, and his expression lost all resolve. Slowly, he lowered his hand and threw his hatchet on the ground.

  “I can’t do it,” he said.

  I took a deep breath. Smoglar’s life hung in the balance, and one of us had to act. Without pausing to think, I strode across the plain and picked up the hatchet. I gripped it tightly in my hand and looked at my dwarf friend on the ground. The more I stared at him, the sadder I felt.

  I didn’t want to do this, but it was the only way to save him. I had to put all my thoughts to one side and just do it. I focussed on his arm and tuned out everything around me. I took a breath and held it in.

  As everyone watched, I raised the hatched in the air. My lungs started to hurt from the air I held in. I had to do this.

  In one strong, sharp arc, I sliced down with the hatchet and felt it cut into Smoglar’s skin. I heard the sound of it carving through flesh and then cracking through bone. Brian turned away, while Smoglar grunted in pain. The only mercy was that he felt little of it in his current state. When I was sure that I had separated his hand from his arm, I threw the hatchet down and gulped in air.

  I needed to lie down. I hadn’t come to Re:Fuze expecting it to be easy, but nor I had entered the game thinking I would have to amputate a limb. I had done the right thing, but I felt lousy all the same.

  I barely had time to collect myself when Feidan called out.

  “We’ve got visitors,” he said.

  I turned and saw two men on horseback galloping toward us. They wore black coats that they had wrapped around their bodies and fastened with belts and buckles. Saddlebags hung on the sides of their horses. As they got closer I saw that they were player characters, and each man had a symbol next to his name depicting a CR sign and a weighing scale.

  “Mercs,” said Feidan.

  I looked at their names.

  Sepeltura – Thief – Level 18

  Blue Velvet – Rogue Mage – Level 14

  It had been a while since we had come across any fellow player characters. We’d seen some on our journey through the map, but most gave us just a passing glance before going on their way. Re:Fuze wasn’t a place where people stopped to have a chat; you always had another level to gain, and another quest to complete.

  The men rode to within six feet of us then pulled tight on their reigns, stopping their horses. I heard the jingle of CR coins as their saddlebags swayed. One of the Mercs looked down at Smoglar on the ground.

  “Your friend doesn’t look too good.”

  “How much do you want for his hand?” said the other.

  I knew that the Mercs were a guild who, where possible, stayed out of the fight between the Halons and the Serpents. The only time they became involved was when one thing was threatened; their profits. It was a guild that called out to those who wanted nothing more than to earn CR, no matter how they had to do it.

  “You guys need to trade?” said one of the Mercs.

  One of the Mercs, Blue Velvet, had a staff strapped to the side of his horse. The other, Sepeltura, had daggers tucked across his belt. I didn’t trust them, but it wasn’t because of their weapons. Everyon
e in Re:Fuze was armed because with so many creatures around, a life of pacifism was impossible. There was something wrong about the way these men had seemingly ridden out of nowhere and found us.

  “We don’t have anything to trade,” I said. “Another time, maybe.”

  “You sure?” said Blue Velvet. He nodded down at Smoglar. “Your friend looks like he could do with a potion.”

  “We’ve got some.”

  Sepeltura tugged on the reigns of his horse. He seemed irritated. “Forget the act, Velvet. Let’s just take them in.”

  Velvet nodded. “Fine, if you’re not going to play along,” he said, looking at me. “Let’s forget the charade.”

  “We’re here for the bounty,” said Sepeltura.

  Back in Dry Gulch, we’d earned a bounty by killing some NPCs. It seemed so long ago now that I had almost forgotten about it, and I certainly hadn’t expected anyone to claim it so soon.

  Blue Velvet reached to the side of his horse and grabbed his staff. He pointed it at me and chanted. A bolt of energy fizzed on the end of it, and when Velvet raised his staff high in the air, the whole thing seemed alive with electricity. He suddenly pointed his arm forward, and the blue energy shot toward me.

  As the bolt flew through the air, it looked like it was going to hit me head on. It travelled so quickly that I didn’t have time to duck, but just as it reached me, it seemed to hit an invisible field of energy. The bolt fizzed out and then evaporated.

  “Mana shield, eh?” said Sepeltura.

  I turned around and saw Feidan holding his hands in front of him, and his face strained with the effort of summoning the shield.

  “I levelled up in the dungeon,” he said. “This is my new ability.”

  Brian stood up. His face seemed strange; his eyes looked like they were aflame, and his features twisted up. I had never seen him so angry. It was as if the grief of what had happened to his friend had crystallised and then transformed into fury.

  He charged forward at Sepeltura with his hatchet held high. I had seen him fight with it before and I knew that he couldn’t do much damage with his melee weapon, so I didn’t hold out much hope. When Brian raised his arm and then struck the first Merc, there was a red flash. The Merc was blasted off his horse and onto the ground, where Brian pounced on him and rained blow after blow of his hatchet down on him.

  I appraised my friend.

  Brian the Giant - **Enraged**

  Blue Velvet made his horse step back. He raised his staff again and sent another blue shock toward us. This time there was no force field to stop it. I felt the energy blast me in the chest and then spread across my skin, burning wherever it touched me.

  Brian left Sepeltura and ran over to the remaining Merc. He raised his hatchet and prepared to strike. As he did, Sepeltura turned and stabbed his dagger at the giant, slashing him across the face.

  I equipped my dagger and ran over to the horse. I knew I would only get one chance at this, and I needed to concentrate. As I closed the gap between us I focussed on Sepeltura until I drowned out everything else around me. I felt my Knife Play skill activate, and as I prepared to stab him with my blade, my body filled with energy and anger. I shouted out as I plunged my knife into his waist. A red flash blinded my vision, and I knew that I had scored a critical hit.

  The rider fell onto the floor. He twisted and tried to get up, but Brian used his hatchet to drain the last of his HP.

  75EXP Gained (141 exp until level 15)

  Knife Play skill increased by 60% (Critical modifier) – Level Up to Level 2!

  Attack Move Learned: Poison blade

  You can charge your blade with a slow-acting poison that will drain an opponent’s HP as the fight wears on. This attack can only be used once per battle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Iskarg we returned to was different to the one we had left. Although we’d been away for less than a week, life had returned to the streets. A tragedy had befallen the once-great scholar city, but the residents wouldn’t let that get them down. Traders had set up stall again on the market square. Nearby, sat on a wall, was a beggar. I couldn’t be sure, but he looked like the man I had seen in Dry gulch near the library.

  Guards with spears patrolled the alleyways and stood watch at the main city gates. Iskarg could hardly have been described as flourishing, but its residents had made the first step to recovery.

  While Ozreal went to an inn guest room to rest and recharge his mana, the rest of us had things to do. Brian took Smoglar to the same inn to let him heal. The dwarf hadn’t said much since we had entered Iskarg, but I didn’t blame him.

  He was lucky to be alive, I knew, but things were forever changed for him. Not only would he have to start building his one-handed skill, but he would also never be able to use his blacksmith skills again. Weirdly, I think it was that which hurt him the most. It was a passion of his, and he’d looked forward to making us all some new armour. Now, he’d never get the chance.

  When we were alone, Feidan spoke to me. “After Ozreal creates the charterstone we’ll be part-way there. Now all we need is money to buy materials for the guild house and to pay people to construct it.”

  “We?” I said.

  “Come on,” said Feidan. “I haven’t come all this way with you to leave when the party gets started. I want in, Janus. I never joined a guild because the others didn’t appeal to me, and my own guild was a wash-out. But there’s something different about this.”

  I thought about it. Although I hadn’t trusted the healer at first, so far he had done nothing but help us. Having a healer in our party balanced it out.

  “You’re in,” I said. “But first, I think you owe us something.”

  Feidan nodded. “The CR and the items. Listen, Janus.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know you’re caught up in something big. But here’s some advice for you. Every once in a while, take a second to appreciate things. The smell of a city when you walk into it, the way the two moons hang in the sky. It’ll keep you together when things get bad.”

  As much as I thought our luck had started to turn after finding Ozreal, it wasn’t to be. When Feidan and I went to the city bank, we found that it had been looted when the streets had been filled with the undead. Someone had taken advantage of the lack of guards and had blown their way into the vault. They had stopped along the way to clear out the deposit boxes of everyone who had left their items and CR there for safe keeping.

  This left us with a problem. We’d gained some CR from the dungeons we had raided, but it was barely enough to spring for a couple of rooms at the inn. After that, it left hardly anything.

  “There has to be another way,” I said, as Feidan and I left the bank.

  “Building a guild is expensive, Janus. We’re stuck without the CR.”

  I looked around me. Although the city was showing signs of life, some windows remained dark, and curtains stayed closed.

  “I don’t want to seem like a vulture,” I said. “But with so many people gone, there must be a lot of unoccupied buildings. Maybe we could pick something up cheap rather than building a guild house from scratch.”

  Feidan nodded. “Perhaps. But we’d still need CR to do that.”

  “Couldn’t help but overhear,” said a voice, behind me.

  I turned to see a man stood behind us. He wore a shirt made of silk that looked like it was worth more than everything in my inventory. His fingers were covered in gold rings that glinted when the sunlight hit them. From the colour of his name above his head, I knew that he was an NPC.

  Guile Travers - Banker

  “Whatever you overheard, forget it,” I said.

  Guile looked from side to side to make sure nobody was listening to us. He leaned in closer as if we were conspiring.

  “There are people around here who don’t like the way the Serpents go about things,” he said. “And there are those who think the Mercs’ prices are getting worse. And the Halons? Enough said about those do-gooder
s the better.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I’m a wealthy man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  When he said this, he lifted his hand to display his rings. When I looked at each one, all I could think was that he was wearing the cost of my parents’ mortgage on his fingers.

  I wondered what was to stop a player from simply killing Guile, selling the rings, and then transferring the CR out of the game. But the Iskarg city guards were back, and I guessed that the bounty killing him would place on you meant that it wouldn’t be worth it.