The Cursed Princedom (Realm of Arkon #2)

by G. Akella

  "How can I be of service to the young mage?" croaked a short, scrawny old man, thinning hair carefully combed over his bald spot. The stall he stood behind went up to his chest.

  I'd popped in here unexpectedly, drawn in by the unusual sign at the entrance, depicting five Olympic rings—an obvious gag on the part of a bored designer. The old man was hardly the epitome of Olympic glory, and the wiry level 200 fella to his right—with a bored look in his eyes and colorful tattoos on his forearms—looked more like a sailor than a guard, even if his short sword looked nothing like a cutlass.

  "Greetings," I nodded to the elderly demon. "I need you to take a look at an interesting ring and give me your assessment of it. In return, I will purchase three rings and an earring from you, if you have what I'm looking for."

  "Let's get the shopping out of the way, then," croaked the wily old man, motioning me toward the stall.

  I needed about five minutes to pick out three unusual quality rings. The assortment wasn't very large, though the old man did have a rare quality ring in stock. Only when he requested eight hundred gold for it, I didn't even bother haggling. I bought three different rings: each adding 130 to either constitution, vigor or agility. I ignored the charms section completely as I had no intention of parting with the courier's badge. Out of all the earrings in stock, the only one that looked more or less decent was a small silver tear that increased agility by 120. All in all, my shopping spree ended up costing me exactly three hundred fifty gold.

  "A glass of wine?" asked the suddenly gleeful demon as I was paying.

  "Thank you, master, but I'm in a rush. Please have a look at the ring I mentioned."

  "Already did," the old jeweler smiled. "Rather an unusual product. Even now, with an unidentified class and hidden parameters, it remains quite valuable. I've already seen one such ring on another occasion, so I know a little bit about it."

  "How can you identify its class and stats?"

  "Alas, the stats cannot be identified," the master spread his arms. "There is a maximum of four more that may still manifest, but there's no way of knowing how many until it actually happens. It's possible that all four may end up being empty, and the ring won't be any different than it is now. However, even if two out of the four stats come through," he spoke softly as he looked up at me, "I cannot even begin to fathom its true value."

  "And when will these hidden stats be unlocked?" I asked, realizing that the ring may surprise me yet.

  "Young people, always in a rush," sighed the old jeweler. "Just be happy that you have it, young man. And let things take their due course..."

  That makes sense, actually. As I level up, the ring's stats should manifest, assuming there's something there in the first place. It wouldn't be unlike Hart to slip me something totally useless, like increased vulnerability to light magic. Resigned, I thanked the shopkeeper and walked out. It was time to get me a ride.

  Upon reaching the northern part of the market, at first I couldn't even fathom where to start. A low fence enclosed this section, behind which stretched rows of wagons and carts of the most varied and bizarre constructions. I even spied a few golden carriages with huge wheels—the game's equivalent of a BMW, evidently. Behind the carts stood horses, varying greatly in size and color. The carts formed narrow alleys through which demons of every age, appearance and rank—from plain-clothed peasants to uniformed officers—moved about with purpose, elbowing for room. The merchants, in contrast, wore mostly wearing red tunics, gawking lazily at the passers-by from their carts and hitching posts. The customers—red-skinned demons which looked just like gypsies with their curly black hair—dashed to and fro, shouting something while peering horses in the teeth and, for reasons I couldn't begin to understand, lifting their feet and tails. Only the far left corner of the enclosed section enjoyed relative calm, where I glimpsed a few dozen lizards tied to poles by the fence. For some reason the local "gypsies" were giving a wide birth to this nook. No surprise there—I can't see too many people itching to check those dinosaurs under their tails, I grunted, making my way through the boisterous crowd.

  The grave disillusionment set in the moment I reached the tether, as only then was it made clear why, out of the entire caravan, only Lirrak had had a lizard as his mount. The minimum level to ride these mounts was 220, which might as well have been twice that much as far as I was concerned. Terribly disappointed by such a turn of events, I took my time finishing my pipe, then read up on horses in the chronicles, and eventually purchased a gray mare with a black mane and tail for eight hundred gold. I'd settled on her for her calm demeanor since, as any city slicker, I was naturally wary of any animal larger than a cockroach. Even as a kid I'd passed on the opportunity to have a dog, not wanting the responsibility to care for another living creature. And this here was a horse!

  The mount could only be released twelve hours after being summoned, and in the event of death it would lose all experience gained for that level, and couldn't be summoned again for twenty four hours—such was the game's new math. Up until the last patch, if a player didn't release their mount before logging out, it had to be put in a stable, which obviously cost money. Otherwise, the mount was considered dead and would lose all the progress it had accumulated for that level. Of course, there were plenty of people who remained logged in for more than twelve hours at a time; still, having a personal mount was generally considered a pain in the butt, and costly to boot—comparable to maintaining a car in the real world.

  Only after leaving the market through the northern gates was I finally able to breathe easy. Oh, how I hated these crazy crowds in commercial centers! And I bet any representative of the male sex residing in a city with a population over one million would readily agree with me, having experienced the sheer torture of wasting an entire Saturday at a shopping mall with the wife and kids. Though a gamer might treat it as a quest of sorts—raising one's reputation with the family—with the reward being either a glass of bubbly over dinner and some hanky-panky, or a six-pack with your friends down in the garage.

  "Well, let's get acquainted?" I turned to my acquisition, which I'd been leading by the bridle. A pair of huge brown eyes were looking back at me from behind a tangled forelock. The mare looked at me with sadness and wariness, as if asking, "What the hell do you want from me?" With a sigh, I carefully held out an apple in the palm of my hand, which I'd purchased from the same merchant, along with the harness. The mare gave my hand a sidelong look, then carefully took the treat. Hmm, I scratched my chin musingly, watching the horse munching on the apple. I should give you a name... I opened the options menu and changed the mount's name from Steppe Dun Mare to simply Lucy.

  Lucy

  Horse. Transport.

  Unusual. Level 120.

  Requirements: level 120, Riding skill.

  Armor: 500.

  Strength: 10.

  Stamina: 500 (regenerates 100/hour).

  Constitution: 500. HP: 5,000.

  120 stats available.

  Walk: 1-2 mph (does not consume stamina).

  Trot: 6-9 mph (consumes 1 stamina per minute).

  Gallop: 22-28 mph (consumes 10 stamina per minute).

  Special abilities: Second Wind. The horse does not

  consume stamina for 10 minutes. Available once a day.

  Well, nobody said horses were simple. I scratched my head in thought, then threw all the available points into stamina. The mare had enough constitution, and it made no sense to boost strength since I had no intention of strapping armor on her. She was hardly a warhorse, but stamina would help her cover more ground at a high pace. A firm push of the muzzle disrupted my ruminations. Apparently, Lucy had enjoyed the treat and was now demanding more. The suspicion in her eyes had turned to guile. We'll get along just fine, I snorted, feeding another apple to my new mount.

  On my way to The Learned Troll I remembered that it would be nice to pick up a cloak for myself, so I popped into a small shop and did just that. The unusual quality cloak was level
120 and added 120 agility. After a brief bout of haggling, I headed back out, and made it to the fenced-off courtyard of the inn by eight in the evening. Don't forget to ask Gerid about that white cylindrical monstrosity above the third story of his building, I thought to myself as I tossed a silver coin to a kid running up to me, and handed over Lucy's reins. Glowing with excitement, the boy assured me that my mare would be treated like horse royalty in the stable. Watching him lead Lucy away, I realized that, yet again, I probably overpaid. Oh, the hell with it, I sniffed, pushing open the front door. Too late to try and change my nature, and would I really want to?

  Standing behind the counter was Gerid's assistant, and I had to come to terms with the fact that the mystery of the phallic symbol on the hotel's roof would remain unsolved for another day. Of course, I could ask this fella as well, but for some reason I wanted to get the answer from the innkeeper himself. I wasn't hungry, not after joining my mount in feasting on the bounty of apples purchased from that smug street vendor. (And why wouldn't he be smug after selling all his wares to me in a single transaction?) So I headed up to my room and turned on the computer. It was still easier to deal with talent and stat points on a monitor screen—old habits die hard, I suppose.

  The tobacco I'd randomly selected was apple flavored, and the room soon filled up with aromatic smoke. Taking a sip of the local analog to cider, I threw all 87 stat points into strength, bringing it to 201.

  And now for talents... I took a deep drag, exhaled and started thinking about my priorities. Three points into strengthening physical attacks was a given, but what next? Should I use up ten connecting points towards Stone Disc and raise it to level two? Or forget that and just raise Earth Shackles to level three? My deliberations weren't long—the disc, despite its fairly small damage, would definitely get some use, and shackles would suffice at level two for a while longer. So, I threw ten points into connecting talents and two into Stone Disc, then ten more into connecting and one into level two Earth Shackles. Jump and Step through Darkness would need to wait—I should be able to upgrade them to level two next time around.

  You've learned the spell: Tongue of Flame VIII.

  Instant cast.

  Energy cost: 42 points.

  Cooldown: 2 seconds.

  You attack the enemy with a blade burning with the power of fire, dealing 210% damage on top of the weapon's base damage and ignoring 8% physical defense.

  You've learned the spell: Ice Blade VIII.

  Instant cast.

  Energy cost: 42 points.

  Cooldown: 2 seconds.

  You attack the enemy with a blade of ice, dealing 210% damage on top of the weapon's base damage, slowing the target by 30% for 10 seconds with an additional 8% chance to freeze the target for 8 seconds.

  You've learned the spell: Earth Shackles II.

  Instant cast.

  Duration: 10 seconds.

  Mana cost: 300 points.

  Cooldown: 30 seconds.

  You create an area of powerful terrestrial magnetism four yards in diameter within 40 yards of yourself. All creatures caught in or entering the area are shackled by the element of earth for the duration of the spell.

  You've learned the spell: Stone Disc II.

  Instant cast.

  Effective range: 50 yards.

  Mana cost: 110 points.

  Cooldown: 2 seconds.

  Deals 320-400 earth magic damage to the enemy.

  Finishing off the cider, I fell back in my chair. Should I try looking up info on a certain intriguing servant of the Temple of All Gods? Oh, damn, almost forgot! In an instant I leaped toward the mirror, removing my helm on the go.

  My black hair had gotten visibly longer, my pupils had become vertical, and my irises were now yellow. If you fastened horns to my head, the only thing differentiating me from any other demon would be my skin color. My facial features had changes as well, having become sharper and more rugged; my right cheekbone bore two vertical lines roughly one and a half inches wide, resembling some animal's claw marks—my lieutenant's stripes. As I'd gathered, these markings were only visible to members of the Order of Punishing Steel, unless I wanted others to see them. Then again, removing the title awarded me for slaying an elder demon hadn't been enough to hide this achievement from certain NPCs.

  Now I know the true meaning of "don't judge a book by its cover," I comforted myself with a sigh, then walked back to turn off the computer.

  "Put your hands up! Not like that! To the side! Don't be such a..." Krayon had been torturing me for a good ten minutes—forcing me to sit, turn and swing the dummy sword he'd given me in place of a real one.

  "Master, everything is wonderful, I assure you..." my half-hearted resistance was smashed to pieces by the demon's inexorable demeanor. I suspected deep down he was enjoying the show—and I felt like a clown doing those idiotic movements, which only distantly resembled military exercises.

  "Young man, as long as the armor bears my brand, I don't want some bearded know-it-all up there," Krayon stuck his finger toward the ceiling, "thinking I'm a damned amateur. But all right," he finally took mercy on me. "I suppose you're ready to wear it."

  To say that the armor was magnificent was to say nothing at all. Burnished gray steel engraved with an intricate golden pattern, the suit fit me like a glove. The helm was closed, featuring a small low comb and a double visor; the gorget, comprising four linked shifting plates, joined seamlessly with the cuirass, which likewise flawlessly integrated breastplate and backplate via cleverly hidden rivets. The pauldrons sat firmly on the cuirass, each a union of seven plates. The fauld featured two broad plates along the sides and durable chainmail with strips of metal fastened to the front and back—to ease travel on horseback. The vambraces fully covered the wrists, joining at the elbows with couters comprising four shifting plates, and multicomponent finger-shaped gauntlets with conical bracers connected to the other end.

  Standing out somewhat from the general getup was Ingvar's black belt, on the buckle of which (without any involvement from me, I might add) the eagle emblem had somehow been replaced with an inquisitive big-eared wolf muzzle. Yesterday Krayon had taken his sweet time admiring the divine gift with due reverence, rapid blinking and astonished whispers. Finally, after griping under his breath about blissful imbeciles lucking out into wearing epic black steel, he demanded an extra hundred gold for remaking the armor, justifying the markup with a claim that it was unseemly for someone like me to haggle.

  The set forged by the master was called the "Plate Set of Strength," and each item in the set had an armor class of 227 while adding 100 to strength and 70 to constitution. The set bonus for wearing four pieces simultaneously—100 to stamina and 20 to all resistances—was a pleasant surprise as well.

  "Well?" the master gave a self-satisfied chuckle at my genuine delight.

  "No words," I said with total sincerity, my eyes glued to the polished chunk of metal that functioned as a mirror in the smithy. "And if any bearded know-it-all up there," I stuck a finger of my plate gauntlet upward, copying the master's gesture, "tries to denigrate this wonder, I'm going to make sure he chokes on his words."

  "May it serve you well," said the master, clearly pleased with my vow. "Now get out of here—I've got other business to attend to. And don't forget your shield!"

  Chapter 5

  The sun was setting—slowly, gracefully. The soft golden light of its last rays trickled down the citadel's white walls, bouncing off the sentries' armor and spearheads, filling the city's neat little houses with comfort and warmth. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the guard commander barking orders, supervising a shift change of legionnaires, and horses whinnying from the stables to the right of the hulking citadel. Residents of Nittal were streaming leisurely into the city's myriad taverns in hopes of escaping, if only for a few hours, the daily grind and the stifling heat over a mug of fragrant dark beer and stirring conversation. A cool breeze wafted in from the direction of the river, unseen behind ro
ws of structures, heralding eventide.

  The city had barely changed at all in the past month, and only the increased number of street patrols in the evening implied that something was afoot in the dominion. The day before yesterday Gerid had shared with me the latest news and rumors, which suggested that it would take two-to-three more months to decide if the current regime would remain in power in Ashtar. I hardly cared about the local politics, since my reputation in the dominion wouldn't change no matter who ruled the roost, so I listened to the news mainly out of respect for the innkeeper.

  The breeze swirled back along the shore, subduing the stalks of coastal grass. I was sitting on a familiar bench outside the library building, wondering whether to head to the old archives now or wait till tomorrow. Completing a level 85 dungeon in my new getup with an upgraded enchanted sword and a shield that blocked 70% of incoming damage would be no harder than a pleasure walk through the city. I opened my character window to marvel at my stats yet again.

  Krian, level 131

  Race: human [demon]

  Archmage Altus' Apprentice

  Shaartakh's Slayer