The Mechanical Crafter - Book 2 (A LitRPG series) (The Mechanical Crafter series)

by R. A. Mejia

  Leveling up alone wasn't enough: I also had to prepare for the challenges ahead.

  Chapter 2 - The Classy Goblin

  Despite the late hour, there was still a steady stream of people going in and out of the various guild halls that lay on the edge of the courtyard, and Greebo led me to a particular vendor that bought monster parts. The salamander hide was apparently a useful material used to make fire-resistant clothing and cloaks, and I made sure to scan the material for its schema before selling it and the rest of the loot we’d collected. After splitting the profit with Greebo, I purchased the iron, copper, and wood that I’d need to completely repair myself.

  As I sent the materials to my internal inventory, I noted that Greebo was tapping his foot, obviously anxious to get to the Scavenger Guild. I was unsure if I should go with him, though. “Greebo, don’t you want to do this with someone else? I mean, isn’t this something special?”

  Greebo stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me. His thick black eyebrows furrowed down and gave his expression a sad look. “I… I don’t have anyone else, Repair.”

  “But what about those goblins you live with? Or all of the aunts and uncles you’ve told me about?”

  He shook his head. “With one exception, all my ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ and ‘cousins’ aren’t really related to me. They’re not bad goblins or nothing, but they aren’t friends either. Us goblins call each other those names to show we look out for each other when we can. But I want you to come with me since you’re the one that helped me get here. You saved my life, helped me earn the money I needed, and you’re the one that helped me get to level five.”

  “Friends are the family you get to choose,” I muttered, realizing that some truths are universal.

  Greebo nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I like that phrase. You’re real smart, Repair. So, what do you say, you gonna come with me?”

  “Of course, I’d be honored.”

  The two of us traveled past the more popular guild halls with their massive stone buildings and gilded edifices and down several less-traveled alleys into a district known as the North Quarter. It was the area north of the dungeon where most of the races that are traditionally considered monsters lived: goblins, trolls, kobolds, minotaurs, and more.

  Greebo led me to a nondescript building with a sign above the door with the words “Scavenger’s Guild” written in common and several other languages that I didn’t recognize. He opened the door and walked down a small narrow hallway until he reached a creature wearing black leather armor with a sheathed sword at its waist that appeared to be guarding a heavy wooden door. I wasn’t sure what race it was, but it looked like a yellow-skinned, stretched-out version of a goblin. If I had to guess, I’d put my money on it being a hobgoblin.

  As we approached, it held out a black nailed hand. “Halt! What’cha two want here? This here place is only for guild members.” But then as he got a better look at us, his shoulders relaxed, and he looked down at my goblin friend with a smile. “Greebo? That you?”

  Greebo smiled casually and answered, “Hey, Tim. Yeah, it’s me. I’m finally level 5, and I’ve come to join the guild.”

  Tim nodded and smiled at the news. “Good for you, boy. Your pa would be right proud that you come to join his old guild. May he rest in peace.” He made some gesture over his heart and continued, “I’ll tell Dobliao that you’re here. Uh, the golem with you?”

  “Oh, yeah. This is Repair. He’s here to serve as my witness when I join today.”

  The hobgoblin stared at me for a long moment then shrugged. “Well, if you’re a friend of Greebo, you’re welcome inside. Just stay close by him since you ain’t a guild member.”

  Greebo and I followed Tim through the door and down a short flight of steps that led to a surprisingly large, open room filled with people. Unlike the Adventurers’ Guild, which felt like an upscale bank, this guildhall reminded me of a pub with people drinking everywhere. Warm light shone from a mismatched collection of sconces, lanterns, and repurposed glass bottles. Repurposed actually seemed to be the decor theme. The couches were made from old cast iron tubs cut in half and fitted with cushions, tables were made from cut-up wooden doors, and walls were decorated with mosaics made from broken dishes or colored glass bits. Even the cups and tankards appeared to have been made from odd objects like boots, helmets, pots, or planters. There was even a trough on a table near the bar that had spigots in it that was being used as a self-service beer dispenser.

  The atmosphere was friendly, and I heard pockets of laughter from the crowd. Some of the guild members scanned a tall notice board covered with what I assumed was a variety of jobs and quests that had been posted. Others talked to formally dressed guild representatives behind counters or at desks.

  Another thing I immediately noticed was that there wasn’t a single human, elf, or dwarf to be found among the crowd. Instead, it was made up of the dark races that lived in the district. It should not have been surprising considering Greebo described the guild as ‘for his kind of people.’

  Tim led us through the crowd and past the tall wooden counters at the back of the room where guild representatives were handling questions and problems. We moved down a hallway, and he paused to knock on a door with a small simple sign that said “Guild Master.”

  “Who is it?” came a voice from the room.

  “It’s me, Tim, sir. We gott’a new applicant to the guild. I thought you’d want to handle it yourself.”

  “Why in the world would I want to--” The words cut off as the door flew open, and there stood a goblin even shorter than Greebo. He wore a fine golden cloth vest over a white dress shirt, dark dress pants that had been pressed, and he was smoking a thick cigar that was almost as long as his green nose. The goblin stared at my friend for a moment, and then when he recognized Greebo, he shouted, “Greebo! Have you finally come to join us?!”

  Greebo smiled and nodded, but there was also a tension to his expression that I could not understand. “Yes sir, Guild Master Dobliao. I’ve come to join the Scavengers.”

  “No need to be so formal. It was your father and I that formed this guild. He led it until his untimely death, and now I have the chance to welcome his only son into the fold.” He turned to Tim, who was still smiling down at Greebo, and said, “Tim, thank you for bringing this to my attention. You may return to your post.”

  Tim’s smile was replaced by the stoic look he had worn when he first greeted us, his shoulder’s straightened, and he saluted before turning and marching back to his post.

  Guild Master Dobliao watched Tim go and shook his head. “I could never get that hobgoblin to shake his military habits.” He turned back to Greebo and peered at him intently. “Well, boy, I can see that you got your fifth level. But were you able to get the coin for the guild entrance fee?”

  The muscles of Greebo’s jaw tightened as he fished around his money pouch, but his eyes never left the guild master. Finding what he needed, Greebo held out his hand. “Here is the coin, although my father never asked for it when he ran the guild.”

  The shorter goblin’s eyes narrowed, and his expression soured for just a moment, then he laughed. “Yes, well, a lot has changed since your father ran the guild: No more letting in just anyone, no more turning down lucrative jobs, no more giving away funds to anyone with a sob story. We’re actually profitable now.” He looked up at me for a moment, only now seeming to realize I was there, then back down at Greebo. “Where did you get a construct? You couldn’t have afforded to buy one.”

  “He’s not mine. He’s my friend and the one that helped me reach level 5. He’s here as a witness to the guild initiation.”

  “Yes, well, you’ve paid the entrance fee, and you meet the level requirement, so let's get you your class. Come inside my office.”

  He took a step back and motioned for us to come inside with his hand, and Greebo and I walked inside. The guild master’s office was one of the best-furnished rooms I’d ever seen since coming to thi
s world. The walls were lined with expensive-looking books, ancient vases, and small mechanical devices. The dark wood floors were covered with thick carpeting, and a wide low desk sat at the back of the room with a tall plush chair behind it. The guild master spun the dial on a safe behind his desk, took a large pink crystal from the safe, and placed it on his desk.

  “Here, place your hand on the crystal, Greebo,” Guild Master Dobliao instructed as he placed his own hands on it. Greebo stepped up to the low desk and did as he was told. The two stared intently at the pink crystal, and it started to pulse with an inner light. Greebo was suffused with the glow, and after a minute, the pulsing started to lessen until the glow disappeared and both goblins removed their hands from it.

  I whispered the command for Inspect, and targeted Greebo.

  Greebo Kneecapper

  Scavenger - Level 5

  HP 30/30

  Mana 18/18

  “You did it! Congratulations, Greebo!” I said excitedly. Greebo turned with a smile on his face, and he was about to say something when he was interrupted.

  “It talks!” The guild master exclaimed. He walked over to me and started to poke and prod me. “I can’t stand it anymore, Greebo. You have your class. Now, answer me: Where did you get this construct? I’d heard something like it was seen in the dungeons. I’m a collector of mechanical novelties and have never before seen such a machine.”

  Greebo smiled even more broadly at the question. “Where my friend came from does not matter. I have my class, which is what I came for. We will be leaving now.”

  Greebo turned and left without saying another word, and I quickly followed, not wanting to be left alone with the overly curious goblin. The guild master gave an outraged cry and followed after us, yelling for us to stop and answer his question, but we ignored him and walked down the hallway into the large room where we found a room full of people looking at us. Tim, the hobgoblin, spotted us and yelled, “That’s him, boys! Welcome our newest guild member, Greebo Kneecapper, son of our founder Killbo Kneecapper!”

  A loud cheer rose from the crowd, Greebo was lifted up by dozens of hands, and various cheers and welcomes were given as he was tossed up into the air. The poor goblin hadn’t expected this treatment and tried to protest, but after a few tosses into the air, I heard him start laughing. I followed my friend as he was carried away, and we left the frustrated looking guild master behind.

  The evening was spent with Greebo being given tankard after tankard of beer and his new guildmates regaling us with stories about the early days of the guild and its founding. I watched, glad that my friend had reached his goal and attained the class he’d been working so hard towards. I felt a bit out of place among the carousing, drinking guild members until I felt tap on my shoulder and saw Tim the troll guard smiling and holding a tankard of dark ale out to me. I didn’t have the heart to turn away the kind offer of ale just because I didn’t have the capacity to drink. So, I accepted the tankard and asked him. “How long have you known Greebo?”

  The hobgoblin laughed. “I’ve known the boy since he was a wee baby.” He made a cradling motion with his arms. “I knew his father from the last war and I was one of the first invited to the guild when he formed it. Greebo ever told you ‘bout that?”

  “The war?”

  “No, everyone knows ‘bout that. ‘Bout Greebo’s father, Killbo, and how he first discovered the how to be a Scavenger?” I shook my head and the troll took a long drink of his ale and his eyes lit up like it was his favorite story to tell. “Well, Killbo was a mighty fierce fighter in the war, but couldn’t find work once the war was over and the Lighties took over. Even though weren’t fighting anymore with them, none of them humans, elves, or dwarves would even let us get a class or get together to go into the dungeon no more. So, Killbo hired himself out as a porter. You know, carrying packs and picking up dropped treasure for adventurers.”

  I nodded. “I’ve seen goblins doing the same thing since I first found the dungeon.”

  “Well, things were different then. Now goblins will get a fair piece of the loot, but back then they’d be lucky to get a few coppers and not get beaten. It wasn’t good times for us.” He shrugged and took another drink before continuing. “Anyways, story goes that Killbo was in the dungeon with a group of adventurers and got separated from them after a bad fight in a maze. He was lost and alone, but not helpless. He had all those adventurer’s packs and used all them supplies and loot he was carrying around to survive for a full week down there all alone, killing monsters and avoiding traps. We were all worried ‘bout him, but when he finally found his way out of the dungeon, dirty and busted up, he also knew how to get the Scavenger class. He didn’t tell no one at first and hid the information for a full year, til he could get the skills for the class himself.”

  Another guild member, this one a lanky blue skinned troll holding a small plate of grilled meats joined in and said, “You know, I asked him once what he found down there that told him about Scavengers, but he refused to tell me. Said he’d made a deal with a devil not to speak of exactly what he found or where he found it.”

  “Yup, Killbo kept his secrets, secret, Loburg,” Tim said to the troll.

  The fascinating story seemed to lull as Tim took another drink.

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “Then he told the secret to his best friend Dobliao Dungflinger.” The hobgoblin gestured towards the guild master who was huddled close to two other goblins, then Tim continued, “and da two worked night and day to save enough money to buy a guild charter from the city and then founded the Scavenger’s guild. Killbo, Dark Gods bless his soul, welcomed anyone from the dark races to join, gave ‘em the class via the guild crystal.”

  “Yes, I remember him saying he did it so that any of us could improve out lot in life,” Loburg added.

  Tim nodded in agreement. “The other guilds in the city then wouldn’t let nobody that wasn’t a Lighty join. But Killbo changed everything.

  “Everything,” Loburg echoed with pride in his eyes and said, “He let in anyone without making them pay and that expanded the power of the guild. With more power, Greebo’s father led a movement to provide equal access to the adventurer’s guild and others like it for all races regardless of origin. Killbo even rallied for laws to be passed that would make it a crime to discriminate on the basis of species.”

  “But before the laws was passed, Killbo got killed on a deep dungeon dive. Dobliao Dungflinger brought his body back, and Killbo was buried with honors when Greebo was just a little boy,” Tim said with scowl and slight slur to his voice as he emptied his tankard. I passed him my full one and he nodded thankfully as he took another swig.

  Loburg shook his head at the hobgoblin and continued the story. “The movement for equality for the dark races lost momentum after that, yet some guilds had seen the benefits of letting in our kind and opened their doors a crack to the dark races, allowing a certain number to join each year. The limited improvement in how we were treated seemed to be enough for most, and the city moved on.”

  The troll finished his tale and his food with a nod and then turned to talk to another guild member. Tim just stood there, with a sad far off look on his face and I wondered if he was thinking of Killbo or remembering some other sad moment.

  I turned and listened to more stories of Killbo and heard more people congratulate Greebo. When the tales were finished and the last of the ale was drunk, my goblin friend and I finally left. The night was dark as I silently walked a staggering Greebo toward his home.

  I had so many questions in my mind from the day’s events but only asked one. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Greebo lurched to a stop and leaned on a wall, peering at me with bleary eyes. “Tell you what? That my father was the great Killbo Kneecapper, savior of the dark races? It would have tainted our relationship. I already have the weight of everyone else’s expectations that I’ll do something great. I didn’t need yours too.”

  It to
ok me a moment to process his words. I could only imagine the weight he felt if what they said about his father was true. It would be like being JFK’s or Martin Luther King Jr.’s son. People would expect more of them simply because of who their fathers were. “I think I understand what you mean. For me, it was the opposite. Where I came from, no one had any expectations for me, not even myself. I wandered through life accomplishing nothing and becoming nothing. Here in this city, though, I have a chance at a new start where I can make something of myself and have an impact on the world.”

  Greebo nodded once, and I thought perhaps that I’d finally found someone who understood my goals--someone whose past mirrored my own even though we’d lived universes apart. Then he opened his mouth, and I waited with bated breath for his words of understanding.