Fayroll [04] Gong and Chalice

by Andrey Vasilyev

  Kit also mentioned that traders were excepted from the system since they worked with a million different players but only spent a minute or two with each. Only the few NPCs players interacted with most often, for a minimum of 48 game hours, enjoyed increased intelligence.

  If I spend any more time with von Richter, they’ll make him a patriarch of the Order. My measly fecal worker Flosy could become the Great Scooper of the North.

  The first thought that came to me was that they had to have spent mountains of money getting the whole thing going, and there were probably mountains more going toward improvement and upkeep.

  The second was, “Da-a-amn!”

  “Impressed?” grinned Valyaev.

  “It’s the digital era,” Zimin responded philosophically. “The future is now.”

  “You’re telling me.” I shook my head. “I didn’t even recognize all of that, and I didn’t understand everything I recognized.”

  “Don’t worry about it; it doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Valyaev said amiably. “Just keep playing like you have been. You have enough on your plate as it is, especially with everything going on between the clans. You’re part of it now.”

  “One more question,” I replied, deciding to try my luck and see if I could get something I could really use. “Will Miurat get any penalties for that stunt he pulled?”

  “Who is Miurat?” Valyaev’s eyes opened wide.

  “Kif, even if we polished off two of those bottles, you still wouldn’t get anything out of us,” laughed Zimin. “You go figure out the who, what, why, and where. Trying to get smart with us!”

  We drank the last of the bottle, and Valyaev left for his office, promising Zimin that he’d think of a way to get back at him for the day’s fiasco.

  “He doesn’t like losing,” noted Zimin. “Always been like that for as long as I can remember.”

  “How long have you known each other?” I asked.

  “Forever,” Zimin answered succinctly, before elaborating when he saw my uncomprehending look. “We’ve known each other for forever, since day one.”

  There’s a friendship for you.

  “Okay, Kif, there’s something else I wanted to tell you—well, more ask. You’re taking Vezhleva out for dinner this week. You didn’t forget, did you?”

  I sighed. “As if you could forget about something like that.”

  “Oh, please. A smart, beautiful woman, good fun, great music, and all free of charge. What else do you need, you blockhead?”

  “I have someone else like that at home, and she’s not happy.”

  Zimin frowned.

  “Kif, once we hit thirty, we start to think about the young girls with their tight bodies, the way they look at us and hang on every word. You can and should sleep with them—you deserve a treat every once in a while, and you absolutely have to boast to your friends who are also on the other side of thirty. That lets us believe for a little while that we’re still as young and tireless as we were at eighteen.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that at all, since lots of those girls, especially the smart, ambitious ones, prefer talking with us to people their age. I mean, okay, an eighteen-year-old girl with an old man in his sixties is more scary than strange. But an eighteen-year-old girl with a guy over thirty? Nothing wrong with that. Living with them is hard and an art form though, since they don’t know how to hide their emotions or compromise with themselves or, especially, with you.

  “A more experienced woman over thirty might close her eyes and mouth, settling for salting your coffee later; twenty-year-old girls kick up a fuss, complete with all the tears and sniffles you could ask for. It’s up to you, but think about it. Are you prepared for that? The hysterics, the accusations, the complaints? The fact that you might end up breaking her morals? Do you really need that?”

  “I wish I knew,” I replied with a sigh.

  “You have to know.” Steel edged its way into Zimin’s voice. “You always have to know everything. If you’re going to do something, you have to know why you went with that option rather than a different one. Otherwise, you’re already doomed to fail. And that’s not just about women; it’s true of all areas of life.”

  I said nothing. Zimin smiled suddenly. “Don’t have anything to say? Excellent. That means you heard me, and that’s good. Okay, about Vezhleva. While you’re talking at the restaurant, I want you to slip in something about how it looks like there’s going to be a big clan battle—everything’s pointing in that direction. And you need to mention that a clan called the Double Shields may very well be involved.”

  “I’ve never heard of them,” I blinked.

  “Not many people have,” Zimin replied with a thin smile. “They’re a unique clan, my friend. It’s made up of players for hire, with clan heads paying big money for their services.”

  “Oh, God! What isn’t there in Fayroll?” I sighed yet again.

  Zimin grimaced. “That’s starting to bother me, too, since there are too many people in Fayroll for us to keep track of. Just take Fortune’s Favorites, for example; they gathered power so quickly that we just about missed it. Right now, we’re building up the admin apparatus as fast as we can to make sure we don’t end up with chaos. Okay, so you know what to do?”

  “Yes, sir, boss. You want me to call you that evening to tell you how it went?”

  “If you’re not a complete idiot, you’ll call me in the morning.” Zimin winked maliciously.

  I shook his hand and walked toward the door. It was only when I had my hand on the knob, however, that I clapped my forehead and turned around.

  “Ah, I completely forgot about another question I had. Will the program consider it cheating and make the quest harder if I pay some NPCs from my company to port me somewhere close to the temple? I’m paying him, hiring him, really, and it’s not just transport—it’s the game process. I get that it wouldn’t work to do that with a player, but what about an NPC?”

  Zimin scratched his head, picked up his phone, and dialed a number. “Kit, listen, our boy here has an interesting question. Kif, say that again.”

  Zimin turned on the speakerphone, and I repeated my question. I could hear Valyaev groaning and wiggling his nose.

  “No,” he said finally. “I’m almost positive it’ll be okay. That’s linear game progress, and the key point is that it isn’t just a normal NPC like a trader or a quest-giver; you’re hiring a fellow soldier. Call me later when you finish the quest, okay? Just in case I miss it. It’s an interesting topic. I’ll need to get Kostya involved, as well.”

  Zimin made a gesture in the air as if saying what he thought of my question, and then snapped his fingers and smacked his forehead. His next statement shocked me. “I completely forgot! With everything that’s been going on, it flew right out of my head. Azov found your car a week ago. He wanted to call you then, but I told him not to; you have enough on your plate.”

  “Really?” I replied with a huge smile. “That’s great! Where is it?”

  “In our garage. Where else would it be? As far as where it was, I’m not sure. Azov caught me right before a meeting, so I didn’t have time to hear the whole story. If you want, give him a call and ask him yourself—you should thank him, anyway—”

  “Of course,” I replied, cutting him off. “I’ll call him and take care of it. I didn’t think he’d be able to find it!”

  “You thought Azov wouldn’t be able to find something?” Zimin smiled skeptically. “Believe me, he could find the Amber Room, not to mention Genghis Khan’s grave. Anyway, stop by whenever you have time to pick it up. Just not today, since you’ve been drinking. You should always obey the rules of the road.”

  I nodded, thinking for a second. “Would you mind if I left it where it is? I’ll drive the new one, and winter’s almost here. In your garage, it might as well be in a safe since nobody will be getting to it. And if they do, I imagine they won’t get out alive.”

  “Not a problem,” Zimin replied. “It’s n
ot hurting anyone here.”

  As I walked to the car, I thought to myself where I should go next, ultimately deciding to head home. I needed to take full advantage of the time I had off from the Free Companies since I had no idea when I’d have another opportunity like it. Time was ticking away, and I needed to hurry. Plus, I have no idea what the second part of the quest will be.

  ***

  The base was still deserted, the sun beat down, and dust swirled above the parade ground. I looked around, anxious to avoid a meeting with Grokkh and hopeful that Fattah wouldn’t be in the barracks. I headed off in that direction.

  Fattah wasn’t there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He seemed like a good guy, but he was a player—he’d definitely wonder where I was taking two big guys and what I was doing with them. The best possible option for me would have been for him to conclude that I was a pervert like in the old Roman times. They liked to have their fun back then. But if he guessed that they were helping me beat a quest? I’d have had nothing but questions, hints, and yet another tail… He was nobody’s fool, that much was for sure.

  Happily, the barracks were empty save for Lane and Ur. Ping and Pong were nowhere to be seen. “Hi, gentlemen,” I said, waving a hand in greeting. “Where are those two doofuses?”

  “They left for Maykong,” growled Ur. “They said they went to find some medicinal salves, but I think they were looking for girls.”

  “Then they’ll definitely need salves,” Lane remarked cynically. “Those misers always look for the cheapest girls, but that just leaves them spending twice as much on medicine afterward.”

  Ur guffawed.

  “I hope my Northern friend and I will have the opportunity to earn money for nice, expensive girls?” Lane asked simply.

  “Of course,” I responded in kind. “Just like we agreed. If you’re ready, we can head out now. Unless, of course, you need to talk to Grokkh first.”

  “No worries there,” replied Ur. “Grokkh is drinking; he misses that Falk. He should be drinking to the rat’s death, but instead, he’s upset.”

  “Ah, forget it, our heads are fine,” Lane said, jumping down. “Let’s see the money, Hagen. Sorry, but it’s like last time: payment up front.”

  “What’s there to be sorry about? Nothing wrong with that,” I said. “Just remember, nobody can know where we’re going.”

  “Silent as the grave,” nodded Ur.

  “Of course.” Lane was as serious as ever. “It’s not in our interests to say anything. I assume this won’t be the last time?”

  “No, not the last time,” I assured them. “There will be four of these trips. For this one and the next two, I’ll do everything, and your job is just to get me there. I’ll need help for the fourth one.”

  “That’s fine,” Lane said as he dropped the money into a purse on his belt. “That’ll be more expensive though.”

  “We’ll figure that out when the time comes,” I replied.

  “Then why are we still talking?” Lane tightened his belt and checked to make sure his blade would slide easily out of its sheath. “Where are we going?”

  “A village named Capur. Remember how we had a mission there the other week?”

  “Sure,” wheezed Ur as he pulled on his boots. “That was fun.”

  “I’d like to believe that today will be much less fun,” I replied sadly, realizing the futility of that belief. Nothing good could come of that temple.

  “And then what? If there will be anything afterward, of course…” asked Lane.

  “Would you rather go to Maykong or back here?” I replied.

  “Better to Maykong,” Ur said. Lane nodded his agreement.

  “Then wait for me, and we’ll head over,” I responded. “I don’t think I’ll be too long.”

  If I make it out alive, that is, I said to myself.

  I did need to visit Maykong, as I was out of money and scrolls, or rather, I was almost out of them. I just had two scrolls left, and they’d be used on the way to Capur and then on to Maykong. I did have one idea for how to drum up some cash.

  ***

  It was a quick jaunt from the village to the temple, and the jungle was just as bereft of life as it had been the first time. It was almost like it had expended all its aggression the previous week. The trip wasn’t long, either. Half an hour after arriving at the village, we saw the squat building, its round cupola, and a barely-invisible entrance. The whole thing was covered in vines.

  “Not the best spot,” Lane said, looking at me warningly. “Nasty, for sure. Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you? Don’t worry about the money; we won’t charge extra. I mean, we’ve fought side by side, so it’s not like we’re strangers.”

  Ur nodded silently.

  “No, guys, this is my fight,” I answered as I pulled out my sword. “I’m going in alone. Lane, here’s a scroll. If I’m not out in an hour, I’m not coming out at all, so don’t wait for me. Or maybe we’ll see each other back at the base.”

  I wasn’t feeling particularly noble; I just wasn’t risking anything. If I were killed, I’d be sent right back to the base and could port to Maykong, and from there back to where I was. And a little extra prestige with the warriors next to me couldn’t hurt.

  “We’ll check in,” Ur muttered. “The Free Companies don’t leave each other behind.”

  I gave them each a smack on the shoulder before walking into the temple, stopping for a second before diving into the small entrance. Slipping on the vines wrapping their way around the half-demolished threshold, I made my way into a small room that appeared to be the temple’s vestibule.

  You entered the Temple of Lakashman

  Your task is to get the Key of Bravery by beating the Test of Strength.

  If you can complete the task efficiently and intelligently, spending less than seven minutes on it, you will get a bonus reward.

  A timer appeared in the interface, just like the one I’d had in Sviss’s memorable cave. I’ll have to hurry; bonuses are always nice. I took a few steps forward, breathed in, and walked through the arch into what I assumed was the main hall.

  Chapter Eleven

  In which the hero makes several important decisions.

  The hall was small, dark, and unpleasant, and it smelled like dust and time. What does time smell like? Everything has its own smell, and I think time smells like an old book your grandfather had on his shelf before it was passed down to your father. It remembers you when you were just a kid, back when you read it and believed with all your heart that bad guys always got their just deserts. The good guys always ended up alive, Captain Blood really married Arabella and lived happily ever after, the Nautilus actually existed, Dick Sand became the best captain on the planet, and everyone had their happy ending.[5]

  I stood for thirty seconds in the doorway doing my best to ignore the numbers melting away in the interface. Sure, I hated to lose precious time, though my eyes needed to adjust to the dark—it was small and above ground, though it was still a dungeon. You don’t mess around with dungeons, and I didn’t see any torches on the walls of this one. In good Fayroll fashion, the only lighting appeared to be coming from the cupola, though it had become so overgrown with the passing of time that sunlight was barely leaking through. On the other hand, that may have been the plan; my first step on the slabs that made up the floor could have released tongues of fire. At the very least, I knew I wasn’t going to just drop by and grab the key. That never happened. Oh, speak of the devil, that’s got to be it.

  At the other end of the hall, just thirty steps away, I caught sight of a niche covered by a grill, and inside it was something flashing a dull red. That, I figured, had to be what I was there for, if for no other reason than it couldn’t be anything else. I didn’t see anything besides it in the hall, either because it was dark or because there actually wasn’t anything else there. There were just a few bas-reliefs on the walls.

  “What’s there to lose?” I muttered. “Let’s get this over w
ith.”

  I took a step across the temple floor, figuring that was the only way I was going to find out what the fanatics at Raidion cooked up for me. The quest was designed for one person to beat by themselves. So there shouldn’t be anything I can’t—

  My thought was interrupted by an unpleasant grinding sound, with something pounding onto the floor. As I ripped my sword out of its scabbard, I spun around in an attempt to figure out what was happening. Realizing the truth only made things worse.

  Warriors in fantastic hats, with no-less-fantastic armor and motionless faces, were climbing down out of the walls. Not a single expression crossed any of their faces, as each of them, from hat to toe, was made out of stone.

  You’re kidding me. They weren’t bas-reliefs; they were warriors, temple guardians, and a trick as old as the Chinese emperors with their catchy names and terracotta armies. And I’d fallen for it. Sure, I still could have dashed back out of the tunnel, since the entrance hadn’t been blocked, but what would have been the point of that?

  I spun my head around, doing my best to figure out what to do. At the same time, the statues lazily, and even kind of majestically, made their way from the walls, their tramping feet leaving rocks and stones behind them. Stone swords left stone scabbards. There were ten of them, and I had no idea what the quest’s designers were thinking. Whatever the case, I wasn’t sure how a single person could beat the quest. Okay, so maybe if you work your way up to Level 200 and find a sword with uber stats, something like +50 cold damage, +50 acid damage, and +100 fire damage. Wait, a second, fire—fire!

  The stone warriors had left their cozy holes in the wall and had begun to surround me, their feet ringing doom on the stone floor. I had no delusions about their plan; they wanted to chop my body up into parts.

  You unlocked Forever in Stone.

  To get it, find and see 20 tombs of warriors from the great armies of old immured in the walls of ancient Fayroll temples.

  Progress:

  One found: the Warriors of Emperor Muiden