by Elian Tars
The sun had risen above the horizon long time ago, and the outside became noisy: people were shouting, carts were clattering, and hoofs were clip-clopping along the pavement. I changed my name to a short “Ken” and had Berg open the shutters. According to him, the chance that someone would spy on him through the window wasn’t very high, but it still existed. And I should stay incognito as long as possible.
We discussed another question that bothered me no less than others did — Berg’s former patron.
“I’m sorry,” the archer said guiltily.
“No need to apologize,” I chuckled.
“I could’ve assumed that the crazy Goddess would do something like that,” he said and sighed heavily.
“Well, you’ve never met her personally. You were a common Follower,” I answered. “So, don’t worry. Just keep in mind that she may come after you, too.”
“Well, that’s not so simple,” he smiled.
I nodded in agreement.
“This is how I see it: though you weren’t her Disciple, she felt her power being stolen out of your body by the God of Darkness, and she managed to ‘connect’ to you and see what was going on. She got angry. Then she started looking through the memories of the other Followers, and heard about me from the Gods… She would’ve probably started hunting me anyway. Because of her searching, she stumbled upon Ilsa’s memories. And although your former patron is mad with anger, it doesn’t deprive her of the ability to think logically. I made a grave in a remote place; somewhere where I lived for some time. Was it a resurrection point? Aerida checked it and found out that it was. Apparently, Gods can feel other points of resurrection if they get ahold of one of them. That’s how she managed to find my second one. She sent poor Ilsa to Listeri and then took control over her body and destroyed the whole cemetery, not knowing which ‘grave’ was mine.”
Berg listened to me with bated breath. When I got silent, he frowned.
“I feel sorry for Ilsa, she’s a good girl,” he said. “I knew her. Now she became a weapon of revenge for crazy Aerida, her means of getting around, and her vessel.”
It was mentioned in the Small Encyclopedia that some people believed that Gods could appear only in the places their Followers were near. The author took that theory with a grain of salt, but he couldn’t debunk it. Analyzing the situation with Aerida and my gravestones, I realized that that theory was indeed true. If Aerida could, she would’ve teleported to Listeri herself and destroyed the cemetery. But, the time that passed between the destruction of my resurrection points was just enough for a person to get from one crime scene to another.
No less curious thought appeared in my mind — did the Gods feel all the resurrection energies in a similar way? Or did they differ? Una’s resurrection point was also in the Listeri Cemetery. Did Aerida know that she was destroying two points? Or had the energies merged? And if she knew that, did that mean that she also knew what God the other Gleam served? Or did the crazy Goddess not care about such trivial things and was ready to kill anyone unlucky enough to get on her bad side?
“No one has got to me yet,” Berg continued. “Probably because when Aerida was reading the energy from your first resurrection point, my part of the Athefeh’s Gravestone was in my inventory. It lies there most of the time…” The archer made a pause and looked up at me anxiously. “But you got other points of resurrection, right? Aren’t you worried?”
I sighed heavily. I thought about it a few times.
“I hope,” I said, “that they’re safe. When Aerida was destroying the first two points, the others simply hadn’t existed yet. She doesn’t have my active point at hand to track the energy of the other ones. Do you understand?” I scratched my forehead, thinking that the answer sounded a bit too convoluted.
But Berg understood.
“You mean that your destroyed resurrection points are just pieces of stone now. And even if Aerida comes back, let’s say, to the cemetery, she won’t be able to feel you? Right?”
It was nice doing business with quick-witted people.
“Mister Berg.” There was a knock on the door, and we heard a woman’s velvet voice. “Your breakfast.”
Without hiding my smile, I looked at the archer. He seemed confused. Heh, while the villagers and I were sleeping on hides, he was being brought breakfast in bed. Not bad; not bad at all, Berg.
He had no time to reply before the female voice sounded again.
“Mister Berg! Are you all right?!” she cried worriedly. The door started to shake from her knocking — it looked like it was being kicked.
“Iara, calm down!” my friend blurted out, springing up to his feet. “Everything’s fine. What has gotten into you?” Opening the door slightly, he looked outside.
“It seemed to me that… Like… An unpleasant feeling…” Iara stammered, trying to peer inside, but she couldn’t see me behind the archer’s back.
“Everything’s fine,” he repeated firmly. “Wait here for a second.” Closing the door right in Iara’s face, he walked to me. “May I let her in?” he whispered. “Nothing bad will happen if she sees you. She and her father, mother and brother are Followers of Glozeysk. Shelton considers them to be allies.”
At the mention of the God of Knowledge, I screwed up my face involuntarily. Strange reaction. I should bury my resentment deep; emotions are unnecessary in our current situation.
“Okay.” I nodded. Still, I should maintain a good relationship with our allies.
Berg returned to the door and let Iara in. A big girl in a white apron over a gray dress stood frozen at the entrance with a tray in her hands. Blinking in astonishment, she stared at me for about five seconds. It didn’t feel very nice, even though I wasn’t the shy type.
“I’m sorry,” level sixteen Iara blurted out immediately. “Here, take it, please.” She passed the tray with porridge and sandwiches to Berg. “I’ll bring another serving!” she promised and swiftly whisked back into the corridor.
Looking at the closed door, I thought that clearly not all the of Gloseysk’s Followers were canny intellectuals. Gloseysk had commoners, too, that were to serve as batteries for the patron. I hoped that we wouldn’t get into trouble because of that…
“Does your Gloominess work the same way on the peasants that you had turned into Followers?” Berg wondered, keeping his gaze at the door, just like me.
“No,” I chuckled. “Next to them, I began to forget what this Personality Skill is capable of. The girl felt it through the door, that’s crazy.” I shook my head and smiled, staring at my companion. “And she got so worried about you. Overcoming her own fear, she rushed to help you!”
“Yeah, she’s like that,” the archer replied without a smile. “Though I told her straight up that she shouldn’t expect me to return her feelings, but she said that she could do without them.”
I felt little sad hearing Berg’s words. First of all, I felt like an idiot for taunting a man who carried his late wife’s gravestone with him. And secondly, I thought how unfair this dark world was. A good and faithful man like Berg, who didn’t want to betray his wife’s memory, existed but the Physical Pleasure bar had to be taken care of regularly, otherwise you’d get a debuff.
Luckily, Iara came back pretty soon, and I was distracted from my thoughts once again.
Having had breakfast, the second one this morning, I came to the window and looked outside. The tavern was situated on the border — I saw the city wall about a mile away. However, being far from the center of the city didn’t make the district quiet — looking out the window, I saw the streets to be pretty busy: people were passing by, and the guardsmen with the duke’s coat of arms on their armor, a lion in a chaplet of roses, were watching them attentively. I counted three guardsmen in total and five soldiers, all wearing different colors. Guards of our guests, I assumed. They probably decided to take a walk in the backstreets. If all that could be seen from the window of a small tavern on the border, what was happening on the main streets then?
There was a knock on the door again.
“Mister Berg, Mister Shelton has come to you,” Iara informed. “Should I let him in?”
The archer looked up at me. I saw in his eyes what answer he was expecting to get. I decided not to disappoint my friend and nodded.
“Yes, please, thank you!” Berg answered, half-turning to the door.
A lanky man in a long, black jacket, which was hanging on him as if on a coat hanger, closed the door shut before turning to us, focusing his dark, sharp eyes on me.
Long Shelton
Level 28
HP: 390/390
He had shoulder-length black hair, hollow cheeks, pale skin, and a wrinkled forehead — the Disciple of Rugus definitely couldn’t be called handsome. He was frowning so much, looking at me, cringing and twisting his face that one would think that he was looking at a pile of dog shit on the sole of his boot.
“Will the effect of the Weakening Potion wear off by the evening?” I asked instead of greeting him.
I didn’t care about impressing the newcomer. I didn’t care what Rugus’s pawn thought about me. I supposed that the God of Control had already formed his opinion about me. Just like his other Gleam that I was familiar with.
Shelton stopped frowning and smiled crookedly.
“You’re right. How should I call you: Una’s savior? Bon? Bale? Daerk? Or…”
“Or...,” I nodded.
“All right, Ken. I can’t say that I’m happy to see you. I can honestly admit that I wouldn’t like you to help me.” He looked around, looking for a chair, found none free and sat down on another bed. “Has Berg already brought you up to date?”
The conversation with Shelton wasn’t very informative, but it was still very useful. Among other things, I found out that guests were still arriving at the duke’s castle. Today, one of De Bleit’s “potential allies” arrived — three princes of the Pampey Principalities Union. It looked like they were the last to be expected to come. The probability that the feast would end today increased.
Shelton specified some details of the plan, pointed out the parts that we should pay attention to and left, leaving us alone.
It would be wiser to keep a low profile. But I couldn’t let myself miss such a wonderful opportunity to visit the merchants of this big city. I didn’t even have to persuade Berg to do some shopping. According to the archer, we could quickly get to the shop of one famous merchant and a Follower of Glozeysk through the back lanes and alleys.
“Look,” I said, when we, walking out of the tavern, turned to a narrow alley. A couple of drunk men staggered toward us, but shuddered when they saw me. They bolted upright, started turning their heads around, and froze near the walls of the opposite houses, pretending to look at the masonry. I chuckled and continued quietly: “What were you doing this entire time? How exactly have you been helping Shelton? And what was that letter that was lying on your table when I appeared? You snatched it away pretty fast…”
Berg made a wry face and turned away guiltily.
“I was asked not to tell you for now. You have enough of troubles, there’s no need to worry you…”
“Is that so?” I wondered. “And who has asked you to do this?”
Turning to me, and without breaking his stride, he looked me in the eyes.
“The God of Darkness.”
“How long ago did he talk to you?” I frowned.
“Not long before you came,” he answered.
I gritted my teeth and cast an angry glance at the sky.
“So that’s how it is? You don’t want to waste your time on talking to me, but will talk to him? Or is he lying? If he is, give me a sign.”
But unfortunately, or fortunately, the sky didn’t answer. A shame. Though, it was stupid to feel jealous over that. Childish even. Was I being hinted that the world doesn’t revolve around me? But I knew that before, kind of… Maybe the Old Man doubted my loyalty. Hmm, I didn’t want to believe that that was true.
“Ken,” the archer drawled unsurely, “you know... Don’t be mad, okay? We’ll deal with everything here. I think that we’ll be able to tell you everything later. The problem is an interesting one, but… I don’t know why he…”
“Stop it,” I breathed out, patting my companion’s shoulder. “That’s okay. It’s not always easy for us, people, to understand what the Gods are thinking. Let’s concentrate on our present problems. How far is the shop?”
Berg nodded slowly, thanking me, and waved in the direction of another alley.
“Five minutes,” he said more cheerfully than a few seconds earlier.
Chapter 11
The First Man
“Oh, Mister Berg! I’m glad to see you! And who’s this gloomy guy that’s keeping you company? Oh, he’s so serious, it creeps me out! But all the clients are welcome here, we never let prejudices cloud our mind, ha-ha-ha!” A puny, good-natured old man with a head of thick gray hair and the same kind of moustache burst into laughter.
Merchant Daezl
Level 61
HP: 2,458/2,458
Berg greeted the owner and introduced me as his “friend,” nodding meaningfully at that, while I inspected the shelves filled with goods such as armor, weapons, potions, and different ingredients for them. I had an impression that the selection wasn’t as rich as in specialized shops, but all the goods were clearly very saleable.
“A friend, you say,” Daezl drawled and smiled mysteriously. “Isn’t he the one who loves to have frog legs for supper?”
At first I didn’t realize what he meant, but then it hit me.
“Oh, I can see by his face that he’s the one,” the old man continued smiling. “You know, someone told me to say ‘hello’ to you. And they added that you can keep the knife as a gesture of good will.”
Berg told me that the merchant was a Follower of Glozeysk, but apparently, he wasn’t completely right. He wasn’t just a Follower, but a Disciple. So, Glozeysk was looking at me through his eyes right now? This was our first “meeting” since we left Ilyenta.
I could keep the knife then? I kind of wasn’t going to give it back anyway. I had no idea where and when the Knife of the Highest Rituals with such a modest ability to “increase the effect of the rituals when used for rituals” would come in handy, but such things shouldn’t be thrown away.
Damn it, my grudge against Glozeysk for Rira’s death was taking over again. In this dark world, humanity was like a “suitcase without a handle,” — too heavy to carry, but you couldn’t throw it away.
“Well, thank them in my name.” I put on a smile. “Are they here?”
Daezl cocked his head to the side and then shook it. “They’ve already left.”
“Ah, well,” I chuckled. “Since we don’t have any more spectators, maybe we can get to business then? I’m sure, dear Daezl, that you just can’t wait to make me spend as much coin as possible, huh?”
The old man showed another smile. He reminded me of a cat that had eaten too much sour cream.
“The young man knows how to please an old merchant. Well, what would you like to see? While you’re thinking, let me offer you something. Your equipment isn’t bad, but those rags on your back should’ve been changed long ago,” he said and waved at my old cloak.
“Heh,” I let myself chuckle. “These rags were sold to me long ago by your brother in faith — Tayon.”
Daezl’s eyes widened in surprise and his nostrils flared with anger. The man got red in the face, but managed to get hold of himself and laughed.
“Ha-ha-ha-hah! Just as I thought, that vagabond doesn’t have anything worthy to sell! I’m going to pick you a cloak that dear Tayon couldn’t even dream of! He has no goods like mine, that’s for sure!”
Flinging up his hands, the old man whisked into the passage that was right behind the counter. We could hear murmuring and rustling as he moved items from one place to another.
I turned to Berg with a smile.
“Look… The patron sa
id you have money... Is that true?” he asked unsurely.
“Yes,” I nodded, thinking that the Old Man got a bit too close with the archer. Though, their closeness was good for the common goal. That was how it should be.
“He said that I should get new equipment. I’m more or less broke… Our allies had given me enough to buy some potions, but aside from that…” He spread his arms and shrugged.
“That’s it, I found it, Mister Ken!” Daezl stumbled into the room, and, lifting his hands over his head, showed me a long, jet-black cloak with long sleeves and a hood.
Robes of Gloom (prototype)
Heroic
Vitality: +50
Endurance: +50
Strength: +50
Agility: +50
Intelligence: +50
Effect: Has an 8% chance to absorb any attack.
Requirements to unlock all bonuses: level 50; “Gloominess,” level 5
I looked suspiciously at the proud merchant.
“I’m surprised that you appeared to have an item in your shop that so perfectly suits my stats…”
“There are no such things as coincidences, Mister Ken,” he replied with a smile that would better suit a seductive noble lady than an old merchant.
“Of course there aren’t. You’ve just been waiting for me and got prepared. And then you made up the story about your rivalry with Tayon.” I chuckled and shook my head. “How much?”
The little old man got serious and looked at me from under his brows. “The price, Mister Ken, is 25,000 for you only.”
I frowned and replied in all seriousness. “Do you think, dear sir, that I have that much coin with me?”
Did Glozeysk know that I had looted Ekheim’s treasury? That was unlikely. Then why did his Disciple, having prepared such a suitable item for me, name such a high price? I was sure that he was giving me a discount, but why did he think that I’d be able to pay it? Was he checking how rich his secret ally was?
Our silent confrontation lasted for about twenty seconds. Daezl sighed heavily and shook his head.
“I can’t sell it cheaper anyway,” he said. “Someone wouldn’t approve of such behavior. For them, Mister Ken, that’d be like cutting off the most valuable thing to a man — the strap that fastens the wallet to the belt.” The merchant burst into laughter again.