Eden's Gate: The Arena: A LitRPG Adventure

by Edward Brody

  “And what happens if we get caught?” I asked.

  “You won’t,” the man said and smiled widely, showing his tiny, pointy teeth. “Trust me.”

  Something about that smile told me not to.

  “Let’s think about it.” I smiled and nodded at the man. “Nice meeting you, um… Do you have a name?”

  “Windell,” the man said.

  “Will you be here if we need to find you again?” I asked.

  “If you need to find me, you will. Maybe not here, but I’m always around,” Windell said. “Just look to the shadows.”

  “Thanks for the herbs,” Aaron said, and Ozzy and I just nodded and turned.

  We started back down the path that led towards Inner Highcastle.

  “We should’ve taken his offer to sneak into the Arena,” Aaron said.

  “It’s too risky, dude. How can we trust that guy?” I asked. “And we don’t know enough about the Arena or what kind of security they have there.”

  “Are those leaves he sold you even legal?” Ozzy asked.

  Aaron snorted. “Judging by the fact that he’s selling them out of a dark corner, I’m thinking not. But hey—now we know where to buy and sell illicit goods, right?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” I said. I was still feeling a little anxious about not getting kroka. “And be careful with those leaves. Do you even know how to take them?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Gunnar. I’m a big kid,” Aaron said. “I’ll figure it out.”

  I took a deep breath. “Alright. Well, let’s get going. We’ve got a bit of a walk to get to the cartographer, and the Arena is right across from his shop.”

  Chapter Seven

  1/26/0001

  Ozzy, Aaron and I climbed the slope that led to Inner Highcastle and passed through the gates, along with a seemingly endless stream of other people, presumably all going to see the show at the Arena. The longer we stayed in Highcastle, the more crowded it seemed to get.

  We reached the large upper-class market area with the giant statue of a Highcastle solider surrounded by water fountains, and every stall was absolutely packed. To the right, on the raised platform, the bearded man wearing a maroon robe held his hands out as he bellowed as he seemed to do every day.

  “The Reborns have arrived!” he shouted. “We know not what they are capable of! We know not—” He paused, cleared his throat, and his eyes seemed to focus in on our group, but I couldn’t be sure as there were so many people around us. After a short stare, he continued, “Standing beside you right this very moment may be one of the immortal ones! The great prophecy has come! The dragons shall breathe fire!”

  The large majority were ignoring him, but I noticed the thicket of people surrounding his platform was larger than normal. I coughed it up to the fact that everywhere seemed busier. There were, however, four strange characters wearing matching maroon robes, sitting on the platform beside him this time. Each one of them had hoods pulled over their heads, their hands held in a meditative pose, and they were looking down to the ground so their faces couldn’t be seen.

  “Hey, do NPCs here know about… us?” Ozzy asked as he glanced over the man.

  I shook my head. “I think it’s just a way to fit us into the lore or something. What do you know about it, Aaron?”

  Aaron shook his head and scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t know—maybe some cute gimmick that Dr. Winston programmed in—but I do know people react differently when they find out about us. It’s kind of creepy what that the guy’s going on like that.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “But he was here last time, and all his barking doesn’t seem to be working. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

  Aaron nodded. “Agreed.”

  As we walked down the pristine Inner Highcastle corridors, squeezing through throngs of bodies, I wondered if people were coming out in droves because the local champions were fighting in the Arena or if it was because the King was making an appearance.

  From all I had heard thus far, King Rutherford was sick and bedridden, so if he was making an appearance in front of the people of Highcastle, that was probably a big deal, depending on their sentiment towards him.

  Further, it got my mind wondering if there was an opportunity there that I hadn’t considered before. I assumed—perhaps wrongly—that the King was just lying in his bed waiting to die, but if he was healthy enough that he could travel from his castle and to the Arena, he probably still had enough life in him that he could do things that might seriously stir change in Eden’s Gate.

  In fact, when it came to the Bloodletters, the Sparrows, Jax, and the Elves, the King was the biggest catalyst of them all. Now that I knew that The Dark Hand had no intention of killing the King, the Sparrows had no ancient weapon to take on the Bloodletters, and the elves weren’t willing to get involved in anything, it was all just one big wait for the King to die and set off a domino effect that would cause a whole avalanche of a drama.

  But what if the King was healthy enough and sensible enough that he could be approached and reasoned with? He did still have the Highcastle Army under his command, after all. What if there was a way that I could convince the King to act against Dryden before he died? If Dryden was out of the picture, that would leave us with only the The Dark Hand to deal with, who was arguably a much lesser threat and didn’t have a dragon under his control.

  It was a stretch, but why not?

  Jax, Aaron, and the gang had done a good job getting me to relax and just start playing the ‘game’ again, but I couldn’t help but keep the threat of the Bloodletters in the back of my mind, and why would I miss such a prime opportunity to stop the threat if the option was available?

  “Let’s forget about the Arena for now,” I said as we moved closer to our destination. “I’ve got another idea.”

  “What? Why?” Aaron groaned. “I’ll pay for your ticket if you don’t want to spend the gold.”

  “It’s not about the cost,” I said. We rounded a corner, and entered the path where I could see the cartographer’s shop. “There’s the building. I’ll tell you when we’re done.”

  “Look at all these people,” Ozzy said, pointing towards a line of finely dressed men, women and children who were all queued up outside the entrance to the Arena.

  “Yeah, if that’s the Arena, it looks like it’s going to be a good show,” Aaron said. “Whatever you have in mind better be good, Gunnar.”

  Loud trumpet sounds suddenly blared from all directions, and the moment they stopped, a few people cheered. A man outside of the front of the Arena held his palms up to his mouth and shouted, “Thirty minutes before the opening show! Thirty minutes before the opening show!”

  The chatter of the people around us increased in intensity, and you could see people moving faster more anxiously in an attempt to get inside and not miss any part of the show.

  A couple of teenage boys ran between Aaron and I, pushing us so hard that it almost tripped us both.

  “Let’s hurry up,” Ozzy said, picking his pace up to a light jog. “It’s getting crazy out here.”

  Aaron and I brushed off our shoulders and followed behind him.

  As we approached the cartographer’s door, I held up a hand and started to tell Ozzy to slow down and enter quietly. “Hey, Oz, don’t—” I said right as he pushed forcefully on the door handle, causing the door to swing open and slam against the inner wall.

  There was a loud yelp from inside the room, and when I stepped behind Ozzy, I saw the cartographer on his ass against the back wall with several of his miniature, wooden ships scattered on the floor around him.

  The cartographer had a feathered stick in one hand, and his eyes were wide. He was breathing heavily, and his other hand was covering his heart. “What is wrong with you people?!” he snapped.

  “Oh, sorry if I startled you,” Ozzy said.

  “Startled me?! Just startled me?!” The man started to pick himself up off the gro
und. “You nearly killed me!”

  Ozzy looked down as if he were a child who had just been scolded by his parents. “I didn’t mean to.” As the man started picking up his wooden ships, Ozzy added, “I can help you with those if you’d like.”

  “Don’t bother! Just tell me what you need,” the cartographer snapped, not bothering to look back.

  “We were hoping you could tell us the location of some herbs,” I said.

  The cartographer straightened his back when I spoke and looked at me. “Oh, I remember you! You brought a treasure map to me not too long ago.”

  “Yeah, that was me,” I confirmed.

  “Well, how did it go?” he asked. “Did you find any valuable loot or was it a dud? That’s some nice armor you have on. Was that part of your spoils?”

  “Actually, I haven’t even had the chance to use the map yet. I kind of got sidetracked.”

  The man snorted. “Sounds like you need to get your priorities straight. You paid for a treasure location, and before you’ve even gone to check it out, you’re back in here looking for herbs?”

  “Reagents for a schematic,” I clarified. “But you’re right. I really need to get around to doing the map.”

  The man kissed one of the miniature ships he picked off the ground, placed it back on its shelf and started dusting it off with his feathered stick. He snapped his lips, turned to us, and placed the stick on his desk. “Well, tell me what you’re after.”

  “Bloodmoss and Heaven’s Shroom. Do you know where we can find them?” I asked.

  “Hmm,” the man said. “Well, it’s common knowledge that you can get Bloodmoss from the Wastelands if you want to head over there. Dangerous though.”

  “So we’ve heard,” Aaron said.

  “But I can cross-reference safer areas where it’s been reported, but it’ll cost you. I’ll charge you 15 gold for it. I’m not familiar with Heaven’s Shroom, but if I’ve got a record of it, that’ll be another 15 gold.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  The cartographer smiled and walked over to the wall of his shop that had several large maps hanging from it. He flipped up a few large maps to reveal another map which was brightly colored and had lots of text written on it. He hummed and ran his finger across the map for a few minutes, before letting the maps he had flipped up drop back down.

  “Looks like you’re in luck. I’m showing that Bloodmoss does sometimes grow in pockets of Nestle Rock—the same place your treasure map pointed to. I’m showing a few other pockets further south, but that’s the closest one.”

  “And what’s it look like?” I questioned. “How will we know when we’ve found it?”

  “I’m a cartographer, so I don’t keep diagrams of herbs. You’ll need to consult with an herbalist for that,” he explained. “But, I have seen Bloodmoss a few times. It’s generally looks like typical moss, but a bit thicker and blood red. I think you’ll know it when you see it.”

  “And Heaven’s Shroom?” I asked.

  The man shrugged and snapped his lips. “I didn’t see anything like that on my map.”

  “Well, at least we know where Bloodmoss is,” I said.

  The man held up a finger. “But…I do have one other point of reference.” He walked across the room and stood on a small wooden step-stool to reach a shelf that was lined with thick, leather-bound books. He pulled an old, thick, brown book from the shelf and started coughing and waving his hand in front of his face. “It’s about time I dusted up there!”

  He brought the book back to his desk, sat down in his chair, and flipped it open, causing more dust to plume in the air. He waved a hand at the dust as he picked up his small, circular eye lens and popped it into the crevice of his eye. He scanned up and down as he flipped through the pages.

  “What was it again?” he asked “Heaven’s Shroom?”

  “Yeah,” I affirmed.

  “Let’s see...” he said as ran his finger down each page. “Heaven’s Shroom, Heaven’s Shroom.” It seemed like he was flipping pages for quite a while before he finally exclaimed, “Oh! Looks like there is a record!” He mumbled a bunch of numbers to himself and repeated them a few times. When he stood up and started for the map on the wall, I assumed that they were coordinates.

  He ran his finger over the map and kept repeating the numbers over and over, and finally his finger stopped. He stared at his finger for a few seconds before letting out a single chuckle.

  The cartographer turned back to us. “Well, what a surprise,” he said. “Looks like the Heaven’s Shroom you’re looking for can be found at none other than Dragon’s Crest.”

  I cleared my throat. “Those peaks where the dragons live?” I asked.

  The man nodded.

  “Is there a specific spot or just in the general vicinity?” I continued.

  The man shrugged. “I can’t tell you that, but the coordinates point directly to the peak. And judging by the fact that it’s a shroom that you’re looking for, it’s likely to be in a cave.”

  “Dragons,” Aaron cooed in anticipation.

  “I don’t think we’re anywhere near ready for dragons,” Ozzy said.

  I shrugged. “They say that they don’t attack humans unless provoked.”

  “Hah!” the cartographer said. “Part of that might be because sane people don’t go to Dragon’s Crest. Wouldn’t you say walking into someone’s home is a form of provocation?”

  “Yeah,” Aaron said. “It’s dangerous, but we’re Re—” He caught himself right before outing us as Reborns.

  “You’re what?” the cartographer asked.

  I held my hands up and out to the side. “We’re reeee-diculously crazy adventurers!” I turned my head and shot a stink eye at Aaron.

  “Hah! You must be if you’re going to Dragon’s Crest to find mushrooms.” The cartographer cleared his voice. “Anyway—30 gold.”

  I counted out 30 gold and handed it to the man.

  “And please teach your friends to enter civilly if any of you are going to return. I don’t want to die young.” He reached for his curly mustache and twisted his lips. “Well, I guess I’m not that young anymore, but I don’t want to die of fright.”

  “I will,” I said with a nod.

  Before leaving the shop, I mentioned the compass issue to Aaron and Ozzy, and they both opted to spend 100 gold to buy a basic compass for each of them. The one I had come in handy when I was in the Sands, and if I were to ever finish the treasure map or find Bloodmoss, I’d need it as well. I was certain they’d eventually run into an issue where a compass would prove invaluable.

  We exited the shop, and the line to the Arena entrance had grown into a thick clump of bodies, where you couldn’t really tell where it ended. For the most part, most of the people in line seemed to be of a higher class, based on the linens and finer cloths and armor they were wearing. I spotted a few Highcastle soldiers in line as well. Most of the people dressed in shabbier garb seemed to be standing around, and few were disappearing to somewhere behind the Arena.

  “So, you said you had another idea?” Aaron pointed to the congregation of people. “Something that looks more interesting than that?”

  “Something more important.” I shifted my gaze to the to the stone castle that was set at the far end of a path to the left of the Arena. “Let’s go see the King of Highcastle.”

  Chapter Eight

  1/26/0001

  As we marched towards the castle, I explained my logic to Aaron and Ozzy—that if I could meet with the King, I could rationalize the situation with the Bloodletters and possibly end an inevitable war if he was willing to intervene and stop Dryden.

  “It makes sense,” Aaron said, “but there’s no telling if he’ll believe you or not.”

  “He doesn’t even know who we are,” Ozzy said.

  “Well, whatever the case, we have to try,” I said. “We don’t know the full extent of the King’s condition, but we do know he’s up and mobile today, so there’s a chance we can catch him
.”

  “A chance,” Aaron snorted. “He could be at the Arena already.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Why’s that?” Aaron asked.

  “Because he’s the King and he’s supposedly very ill,” I explained. “They wouldn’t have a sick King waiting around there while everyone arrives. Nah… He’ll be the last person to show up, with a procession, for sure.”

  The path leading to the castle consisted of the same polished stones as the rest of Inner Highcastle, but halfway down, a row of blue banners bearing the Highcastle insignia—a yellow lion—lined each side of the path and extended to the entrance.

  The castle appeared even larger up close. It was built wholly of rough gray stones, and the front entrance consisted of two tall, wide, spherical towers. A large, brown double door sat inside an arch of stone in between. Above and behind the towers, the front wall continued to rise high and spread further left and right. At the end of each wall was an additional larger watchtower, and Highcastle flags were perched on each one. Windows were scattered evenly all along the castle face.

  At the front entrance stood four guards, each wearing the typical plate armor and insignia that Highcastle soldiers wore, but each also wore a nasal helmet that had an arrangement of blue feathers that formed a sort of Mohawk on the top of their heads. On each side, one guard held up a halberd and leaned it behind their shoulder, while the other guard held onto a lance planted firmly on the ground.

  As the three of us approached, the guards all seemed to straighten to their most upright of postures.

  “What are you gonna say?” Ozzy whispered.

  “I don’t know, but just go with it,” I whispered back.

  The two guards holding the lances took a step forward and adjusted their lances so that they formed an ‘X’ across the castle door.

  “Your business here?” one of the guards asked.

  “We’re here to see the King,” I said confidently.