The Cursed Princedom (Realm of Arkon #2)

by G. Akella

  "Could a certain 'black cat' that we know have anything to do with it?" Max returned his snicker.

  "Her, too. Anyway, are we planning to get some lunch, or shall we start looking for a mailbox right away?"

  "The letter comes first," Max shook his head. "Once I'm done, I'll be ready for anything—even fighting dragons."

  "I had no doubts you'd opt for the latter," Luffy winked to his pal. "All right, Romeo, let's go look for the local post office."

  They had entered Ellorian twenty minutes earlier, following a rather bizarre and lengthy corridor shaped by interwoven tree trunks and branches that played the part of city gates, having spent some thirty minutes standing in a long line, alongside others eager to get into the city. The part of city walls was played by an odd impenetrable thicket of some sort. They had to pay the guards a silver coin each, so their funds were as low as could be. But then, Max didn't care much about the financial side of affairs at that particular moment. All he wished was to send a message to Alyona and hear her reply. The rest would sort itself out, one way or another.

  There were so many players gathered in the square behind the gates that their figures started to dance before the warrior's eyes. For the most part, the crowd consisted of noobs like themselves. Imagine a gypsy encampment over a thousand people strong. Some sat on the ground; others just slept. A group of young men and women were dancing in the bright green glade on the right, underneath a huge tree with a large number of people line up in front of it—evidently, those wishing to receive quests of some sort. The level 200 guards standing around the perimeter frowned at the turmoil in the square, but didn't act upon it in any way.

  As the friends pushed through the crowd, they got asked for money four times, received two offers to buy some "mind-blowing dope," and had their feet stepped on so many times they lost count. They were lucky that players under level 20 were immune to stealing, or they would have lost their last two gold coinss, as Max realized belatedly, once they managed to break free from the crowd, ending up in a wide street lined with trees resembling lilacs, which eventually led them to a small square with a fountain. There were substantially fewer people around, but their numbers were still comparable to those found in the central streets of a major metropolitan city. They were passed by groups of high-level NPCs a few times, riding moose or deer of some sort with loud cries of "Gangway!" In general, Max spent most of his time gawking around and feeling like Dorothy upon her arrival in Emerald City.

  "Hey, any idea why there's such a crowd in the square by the gate?" Max inquired of his companion, whose gaze was following a group of rather scantily-clad young women. "Will you stop staring at butts already! You're practically married, and yet you still—"

  "Indeed, you have no eye for the finer things, Max," there was regret in Luffy's eyes as he looked at his friend. "Beautiful things are to be enjoyed at every opportunity! Tell me, how often did you go to museums when you lived in Moscow?"

  "Well, we went with my class at the Polytechnic University," the warrior grunted.

  "E-e-exactly," the mage poked the warrior's chest with his finger. "Whereas I happen to be from Kiev—but when I was in Moscow, I visited the Tretyakov Gallery, the Faceted Chamber, the Pushkin Museum..."

  "All right, you culture vulture—won't you cut it out now? I asked you a perfectly reasonable question. And why the hell would I go to any of those museums, anyway, seeing as how they were all within easy reach?"

  "I get it, don't exert yourself any further," Luffy made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "There are all sorts of social questlines that begin out there in the square. The 'fetch and serve' variety. Feel like standing in line?" He laughed out loud as he saw fright in his friend's eyes. "You don't, do you? Well then, keep on looking for your mailbox, and let your friend admire the local sights in peace..."

  They found the mailbox about ten minutes later, near a small inn with a sign bearing three strange insects whose behinds were on fire. The inn was called The Three Fireflies—another creation of a bored developer's mind, by the sound of it. The actual mailbox looked like a rectangular wooden pillar with an opening lid. There was a stylus attached to the inner surface of the lid, which you were supposed to use to write your correspondent's address in a special field.

  Mailboxes in the Realm of Arkon worked the same way as their counterparts in earlier games. That is, you could only write a letter to a zone inhabited by your own race or an allied race. An orc player, however, could not write a human player even if their reputation with the human race was favorable. There was a workaround, though. Special courier caravans carried correspondence between the lands of hostile races. The letters and packages they delivered were collected from the office of the courier service. In all other cases, the letters arrived to the player's private quarters—alternatively, the player could get them at the very first mailbox in sight, which would change in color to notify the player that they had mail.

  "Any idea what the hell this could be?" Max asked his pal after three minutes of fiddling around with the box. "It requests that I enter a ten-digit code of some sort."

  "Come again?" Luffy stopped contemplating his fingernails and gazed at the warrior quizzically.

  "I'm trying to write Tauriel a letter, and it won't let me send it. Apparently, I need a code of some sort."

  "You mean you don't know it?! Do you have any idea how many Tauriels there are among the dark elves after that movie, whatever its name was... You know, about the guy with hairy feet and an elven maiden in love with a dwarf. That was her name. Long gone are the days when the names of the players were unique—nowadays, what keeps you unique is this code. Or did you think you were the first one who wanted to be known as Max? Well, let me tell you—Maxes and Luffies are a dime a dozen in Arkon, that much you can be sure of! It's like sending it care of Grandma Judy in Bumblefu... I mean, Boondocks, Wisconsin!"

  "So what do we do now?" asked Max in a voice dead with terror.

  "Run around butt naked and cry out 'boo hoo,'" the mage started, but checked himself as he saw his friend lean against the lid of the ill-fated mailbox, covering his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, brother," he sighed and tapped the warrior on the shoulder. "There's always a way! You said she was level twenty one, and that she changed nothing about her appearance but her figure, didn't you? She must be barely up to twenty eight by now. And I don't think there are that many zones here. We'll go to each and we'll find the girl you're looking for. Whatever it takes, you hear me? Especially since all the zones around Ellorian are open to us on the world map."

  "Of course," Max sighed. "But what if she's in the city? There must be over a hundred thousand people here now!"

  "In that case, we'll go through the whole city and leave no stone unturned! Don't get droopy just yet. We'll manage everything, you'll see!"

  "Thanks," the warrior chuckled and shook the hand offered by the mage.

  "Thanks do not fill your belly," Luffy cracked a smile and nodded toward the inn. "How about we go in and stuff our faces with something? We have nothing in our inventory except half a box of wine—no food whatsoever. We could ponder the situation while we're at it."

  "Let's go," Max gave a wave of the hand and headed toward the inn entrance.

  The roomy dining hall of the inn was packed full. The air was permeated by lasting aromas of meat roasting on several spits, oil bubbling in a cauldron, to be used by cooks for deep-frying small pieces of meat, sauerkraut, cheap beer, and tobacco smoke. The World Health Organization would never get a chance to inspect this joint now, obviously enough, and as for the innkeeper, a level 35 elf playfully nicknamed Emmanuel, as well as his numerous serving girls, they didn't seem to mind the smoke at all.

  "Duh, what's wrong with these programmers?" Luffy chuckled as he looked at the innkeeper. "Why did they have to skimp on another '-le' after his name, eh?"

  "Someone has a one-track mind," Max shook his head, trying to find a free seat.

  Incidentally, the public
gathered here was just about their level—he didn't notice anyone higher than thirty. That must have been the reason for the din: the people were probably still trying to come to terms with their fortune—or misfortune, there was no consensus there—and were thus discussing their options at the top of their voices, or maybe were just seeking a shoulder to cry on.

  They managed to find a seat near the bar. Sitting at a small table with enough space for no more than four people was a gruff bald-headed warrior, level 19, nicknamed Bonbon. There were a few tankards with the local swill in front of him, and a plate with what looked like unassuming fare. He was wearing a suit of chain and plate armor, and, judging by the one-handed sword on his belt and the shield leaning against the wall, played as a tank. There were no more seats to be seen anywhere in the hall, so the companions headed for that very table.

  "Are the seats taken?" asked Max as he sat down at the table.

  "Scram," replied the warrior, frowning at the uninvited guests.

  "Look here, mate, would you believe the last thing we want is meddle in your affairs? We have enough problems of our own, let me assure you. We'd leave you to your privacy had there been any free seats available, but you'll have to excuse us—we're hungry, too," said Luffy, taking a seat opposite Max.

  "Nostalgic for home, are you?" cackled the bald guy, fishing a rolled-up cigarette out of his pouch.

  "Nah, we left of our own accord," sighed Max. "It's not about that. Incidentally, I suggest that we share a few bottles of wine as compensation."

  "Wine is always a good idea," nodded Bonbon approvingly as he lit up.

  The serving girl approached them just as Max placed a few bottles on the table. He didn't dilly-dally, ordering a roast suckling pig with vegetables and five loaves of bread. They would take whatever they couldn't finish to go—fortunately enough, the food you put in your inventory didn't spoil. He was left with a single gold coin as a result.

  "Well, shall we toast to our new life?" Luffy raised his tankard.

  "Screw this kind of life," the bald warrior shook his head. He did, however, drink the wine.

  "What happened?" Max put his tankard on the table and raised his eyes at Bonbon. "You mean you're not happy about being immortal?"

  "What's immortality got to do with it?! My wife was in Vaedarr when it all hit the fan. There's no way of getting there now—the portals are closed, and there are demons guarding the borders. I tried to coerce the Asians headed that way to let me tag along, but why the hell would they need a level 19 lowbie?"

  In the meantime, the serving girl placed an enormous dish on the table. There was a whole roast suckling pig on it on a bed of local vegetables and accompanied with five loaves of bread.

  "Help yourself," Max gestured invitingly to Bonbon. "You shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach."

  "No way, I can't swallow anything right now—I couldn't even finish my own meal," the man shook his head, blowing the smoke out through his teeth.

  "Are you fifteen or something?" Luffy exhaled as he finished chewing his slice. "Mine dumped me altogether, but what are you going to do? Yours will wait for you in Vaedarr, if everything is really all that serious between the two of you."

  "I'm forty three," Bonbon chuckled drunkenly. "And we've been married for twenty years now. Tied the knot right after graduating from a pedagogical uni. The two of us are like swans—once for a lifetime. These things happen, believe me."

  "Then you needn't worry about anything," Max shrugged. "She'll definitely wait for you. As a matter of fact," he put his tankard on the table and looked at the bald man. "Do you want to come with us?"

  "Nope, sorry," Bonbon shook his head. "I'll wait for the Asians to mope up those fiends, and then make straight for Vaedarr to see my Annie."

  "I doubt the Asians will have much luck there. It didn't all just happen out of the blue, so it's unlikely anyone's first attempt will be successful... Besides, do you even have enough money for the portal? You'll need around ten gold coinss if I remember correctly, seeing as how humans and dark elves are hostile toward each other." Max drank from his tankard, winced, and put it on the table. "Anyway, it's up to you—all we can do is offer."

  Right at that moment they heard a loud girlish scream followed by the innkeeper's loud curses.

  "How dare you steal from me, you little bitch!"

  Max turned around to see the innkeeper unceremoniously shake a thin dark-haired level 7 NPC girl dressed in a plain dress of homespun cloth, holding her by the shoulders. The girl's eyes were shut tight with fear, her arms limp. There was a small piece of sausage lying on the floor—she must have decided to borrow it from the innkeeper.

  "I'll drag you out back, you little sow, and whip you till—"

  The innkeeper's diatribe was cut short right there. Max, who all but sprang from their table, grabbed the innkeeper's shoulder roughly and spun him around. There was no way he would let some bastard torture a child over of a measly piece of sausage—he just wasn't raised that way.

  "Leave the girl alone, you swine," he bellowed right into the innkeeper's face as the dining hall grew silent.

  "Or else what?" the elf eyed him scornfully.

  "Are duels to the death legal in Ellorian? Then let us duel—right out back where you keep so many whips," hissed Max in his face.

  Level 35? So what! Let it be 100—Max didn't care, overwhelmed and shaking with anger and loathing.

  The innkeeper looked like he wanted to make a repartee, but the reproving looks on the faces of the gathered patrons made him decide against it.

  "Take her if you wish," he let the girl go. She didn't manage to keep her balance and fell to the floor. The innkeeper wrested himself free with a single nimble motion, picked up the piece of sausage from the floor, and headed back toward the bar, cursing half-witted idiots under his breath.

  "What's your name, little wonder?" Max offered his hand to the girl with a smile. Her name was visible to him, but he decided that a proper introduction was required.

  "Saté," the girl sobbed and raised her green eyes at him, still full of tears. "Those were someone's leftovers, so I thought..."

  "I'm Max," the warrior introduced himself as he helped the girl up from the floor. "You must be starving, right? Come," he gave the girl a gentle push toward the table, offering her the remaining free seat, with puzzled glances of patrons following them. So what if she was an NPC? The girl looked just like any other girl—her dress was a bit tattered, and her face grimy, but what of it? Anyway, Luffy didn't seem the least bit surprised—the look in his eyes was that of approval.

  "Tuck in," Max pushed the dish toward the somewhat flabbergasted girl. "You're not old enough to drink wine, I suppose," the warrior looked at Luffy. "You had some spare change left over, didn't you? Could you order her some milk?"

  The mage called the waitress over, gave her about a dozen coppers and ordered a jug of milk. Then he looked at Max and laughed cheerfully.

  "I don't think we'll learn to act as true gamers anytime soon, my friend. Real-life habits die hard in our case."

  "Well, someone reaped pretty decent benefits from it a few days ago," Max returned the smile. "So perhaps all this gamer business is overrated, eh? Let's just stay human. Or elves, as is the case with us."

  The girl was truly ravenous—even Max admired her appetite.

  "Don't hurry," he smiled at her. "No one's going to take it away. You can finish the dish, if you want."

  She raised her eyes at him, nodded gratefully, and resumed her meal.

  "Hey," Bonbon, who had been silent all the while, finally spoke up. "Didn't you say you had problems of some sort? Maybe it's something I could help with?"

  "He's looking for his lady friend," Luffy replied for his companion. "He knows her name, but he didn't realize he should have asked her for the code to be able to write to her."

  "Her name is Tauriel," Max frowned at the mention of his troubles. "Her level was 21 a week ago. As for where we could find her now... She didn't
change her appearance, with the exception of her figure. So I'll be able to recognize her when I see her, but there are just too many people around right now," he concluded in a vexed tone. Spreading out the map on the free part of the table, he proceeded to pore over it. His frown grew deeper by the second.

  "What's the matter?" Luffy asked his friend.

  "There are almost fifty zones roughly corresponding to her level! Each is sixty to two hundred and fifty square miles! Even if we search in every zone's main city, it's going to take..." the warrior finished off his tankard of wine, lit up a cigarette, shut his eyes and leaned back on the bench.

  "Hold on," Luffy pulled the map toward himself, and whistled. "I had no idea the crown territories were so enormous. But damn! There must be a way! It's a freaking magical world, after all!"

  "Why enormous?" Bonbon shrugged. "Everything was more or less standard up until the latest patch. If you take humans, a barony is a territory roughly thirty by thirty miles, sometimes more. A county usually consists of eight baronies and the count's own lands, which are about four times the size of a barony. Thus, a single county is just under twenty thousand square miles, which comes out to one hundred and twenty by one hundred and twenty miles. A duchy comprises eight counties and the duke's own land, so its size is around three hundred and sixty by three hundred and sixty miles. And Erantia has eight duchies and the Royal Demesne."

  "So?" Max blew out the smoke, opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the bald warrior.

  "Same old thing with the elves," the man shrugged. "Only they have Great Houses instead of duchies, and princedoms or some such instead of counties. The baron's title is equivalent to their lord."

  "That's some reassurance," Max exhaled. "Moscow itself, including the outlying regions, is roughly the size of an average county. That's over thirty thousand square miles! Do you realize how long the search will take? Oh, and they have highways and commuter trains over there, as opposed to the local woods and paths."

  "Actually, I'm aware of that—I had a summer house near Dubna, right on the bank of the Moscow Reservoir," Bonbon sighed. "Just an hour away from Moscow by express train."