The Way of the Clan 3 (World of Valdira)

by Dem Mikhaylov

  In contrast to the silent apartment, my miserable body was not going to remain silent, and vigorously expressed its full and uncompromising protest to such treatment. Such emotions, expressed in my aching neck and total numbness. If the numbness was easing, but still taking place, the case with my neck was not the same— the pain was quite strong. And all because of the damn hurry of Gosha as he drove me into the cocoon. I did not lay down cleanly, and my uncomfortably placed neck still activated the cocoon— and here I was, the natural result of such sloppiness. There is an entire instruction, in dozens of pages, with such detailed images that even a moron would understand how necessary it is to lie down properly in the cocoon before the gaming session. And all of these tips of safety I ignored today, for which I have paid dearly.

  Stretching my aching neck, I went to the bathroom and threw off my sweaty clothes, crawling under a hot shower. I rubbed myself with the sponge, scraping away the mud, and stood under the hot jets until my skin was reddened and sharply tightened the hot top… the contrast was so overwhelming that I nearly jumped in the bath with a sharp girly squeal. Once again, a hot shower, five minutes of bliss and again the cold… oh! I felt myself a human being again. I felt fit and, most importantly, felt my body as it was revived. Having taken a swig of whiskey, my headache subsided, and instead woke up the appetite. Whistling a simple tune, I started cooking.

  I wildly wanted to sleep, but to lay down in bed would be a formless mockery of my own body. Only just out of the cocoon, having strained my muscles so, and then back into bed? No, no. I leisurely prepared a late dinner— or an early breakfast— drank hot sweet tea and, taking a plate of food with me, sat down in front of the computer. Let’s look what kind of business there is on the gaming forums. So many new topics… I get the impression, that it’s a new hobby for some, to open new threads on forums…

  I passed many which invited and chided, not reading carefully. “Wanted loggers!” “We need miners!” “Ay, shipbuilders” and “Where are you, smiths?” Judging by the amount of the demand for artisans, the desire to build ships did not decrease, but did exactly the opposite.

  But this is interesting: a summary of the main events in Valdira.

  “The event of the day! The famous clan of merchants and craftsmen disbanded! Fire Kites were left with nothing!

  Diamond Hammers prefer to completely dissolve the clan than to pay a ransom for the stolen clan symbol! According to information from several sources, designated ransom exceeded all possible limits! And they were greatly discouraged— they got a message to disband the clan. What is this? Hammers have no pride and honor, went straight to the dissolution of the clan? Or is it a cold calculation by the most famous traders in the world of Valdira?

  Fire Kites issued a formal protest, demanding to cancel the dissolution of the Molotov clan until a ransom was paid.

  The chapter Korshunov said that the redemption amount may be revised downwards, and that he is ready to immediately sit down at the negotiating table and discuss the details.

  Administration officials are now considering this question but, in the meantime, a newborn clan with the name Crystal Hammer appeared…”

  Interesting, but not what I’m looking for… -- I concluded, scrolling on. I have no time for clan wars. Yes— and same goes for actual politics.

  “A gift from the Sleepless clan to all residents of Valdira!

  In honor of the upcoming journey to distant lands, the Sleepless have established, in the five major cities of Valdira, magnificent decorations— giant ships, soaring over water jets. On the decks of these sailing beauties are many stalls, in which each player can buy his or her favorite items at significantly discounted prices.”

  There were… we know… and we’ll no longer return to this hilarious attraction of horrors.

  Further topics were detailed descriptions of the attacks on the shipyard. The diversions, the stealing of resources as they were halfway to their destination, the killing of civilians, loggers, and miners. I scrolled past this— I did not read.

  Although… this was already interesting.

  “Invasion of a watery front!

  Underwater shipyards have undergone a massive attack! The waters literally boiled! A column of steam rose to the sky! It damaged more than two dozen portals, of which we will never again see majestic leviathans emerge. But the attackers were met with fierce resistance and were forced to retreat, falling just short of reaching the central structures of submarine shipyards. According to the participants of these battles… well, we will not take responsibility for people’s words, and just let you hear them verbatim: “We have not broken through the very center, where real mountains could be seen in the waters. But we saw something… there… there’s something huge and alive! So huge it can gobble up a multi-story house and not even blink!”

  What says the leader of the submarine clan Nautilus Lokard Swordfish: “Well, I guess they may have partly succeeded in their plan. But now! Now let each inhabitant of the land world think thrice before they board any vessel, no matter how large and protected. Remember only three little words! Megalodon, Orthocone and Mosasaurs! We did not start this fight, but we’ll finish it!”

  And the achilots got it too…

  The muffled sound of breaking glass startled me, and I broke away from the entertaining read.

  What the…?

  Automatically, I spun my head towards the windows— the glass was intact.

  My neck again responded vengefully with another stab of pain, and, hissing and swearing through clenched teeth, I slid out of my chair and got myself to the kitchen. Nothing was dropped and broken— the windows were whole. I had to clean them, -- it crossed my mind…

  The faint clink again. This time, I caught exactly where it was coming from— from the front door.

  For no less than a minute I listened with hope, with all my heart hoping that it was just a hallucination. But reality had shown its cruel grin again; coming from the landing of the stairs, the noise had shown no signs of stopping. In the middle of the night!

  But no one was knocking at the door. Neither mine nor the adjacent one. This noise was not good…

  After a couple of seconds of thinking, I returned to the bedroom and ripped the rusty “katana” off the wall, got into some training pants, shoved my feet into some worn out slippers and went to find out what was happening out there.

  Is the neighbor being robbed?

  Clicking the lock, I opened the door— and, looking through it with one eye, surveyed the “surroundings.” To open the door immediately and fly out.

  On my landing lay Kira— the lower half of her body on the stairs, the top on the cold concrete; broken glass scattered all around, and a dark wet spot spreading beneath her.

  Killed! Found, followed and killed! Clan competitors! Lord…

  - Kira! Kira! – The piece of metal clanged in the abandoned apartment as I threw it inside, and collapsed onto my knees next to the motionless girl and bent down to her face— Kira! Kira… do you hear me, huh? Answer me!

  - Gvah sh-shhh… Gva hic! Gvavara Panlovna will h-hea-…

  - Kira! Son of a… Are you drunk?! Just drunk?!

  - Guvnarm …

  - Oh, damn it! Let’s see… -- I sniffed the spreading spot, and caught the sharp scent of alcohol and something sweet. I fished a colorful label out of the pool and read— Bailey’s Irish Cream… You managed to get drunk on Bailey’s?

  - Vzagval ydg… ydg f…

  - It’s better if you stay silent!— I muttered angrily— so Barbara Pavlova won’t wake up!

  - Gvot! — Slurred, but very emotional, and slurring incomprehensive words, Kira waved her hand in my direction, almost nailing me in the face with something big.

  I managed to intercept it and took the strange thing, and Kira mumbled something and finally her head drooped down. She was out…

  - Oh— I breathed, leaning back against the doorpost. – And what am I supposed to do now? Drag you to your apartmen
t? Quit now? Call Gosha? Or simply lie down here and quit?

  Fixing my gaze on the package which was clasped in her hand, I began to unwrap it. Another bottle of Bailey’s? I would drink it… you have my word, I’d drink it!

  Wineglass. My favorite wineglass, in which, with a clatter and rustle, something rolled and moved.

  - Wow— I chuckled— you broke the bottle, but not the glass. The girl did not respond and, with a shrug, I looked back at the glass.

  Two hundred-dollar bills. This was understandable, although I hadn’t asked for it.

  A white unsealed envelope with to words “To Ross” on the inscription. I opened the envelope, and into my hand fell a thick wad of green notes and a piece of paper with strange brown spots. Even to my unprofessional glance, the money was too much. Counting it, I whistled in awe— five thousand dollars exactly. A few words were written, in uneven handwriting...

  “The work was completed perfectly! Thanks, Ross. And sorry, if something is wrong. Gosh. “Over the paper were a few dark spots, similar to small splashes. Again, Bailey’s? Celebrating success?

  The last thing I fished out of the glass was a hefty, circular emblem. Bright orange, painted in the middle with an adorable face with big wet eyes, and the short message “Forgive me!”

  This, too, from Gosha?! I really hope that there is no…

  Kira muttered something, awkwardly jerked, and started sliding down the stairs.

  - Whoa whoa! Your leg? Where? – I growled, lunging forwards and grabbing her shoulder.

  I barely had time to stop her sliding, that something buzzed, and from the pocket of the girl poured music; in contrast to the silence of the night, it was just deafening. The song was both familiar and old, but this did not make it better. Cursing, I frantically tried to pull the phone out of her narrow pocket as the cheerful singer continued to express interest in the affairs of their historical homeland.

  Hello Africa, tell me how you’re doin’

  Hello motherland, tell me how you’re doin’

  Oh son of a bitch, it was stuck!

  Hello Africa, tell me how you’re doin’

  Hello motherland, tell me how you’re doin’

  Get out, bastard!

  Meanwhile, as the answer involved a whole chorus of joy in answer…

  Hello Nigeria! That’s my motherland…

  - Eyeeyyyey— I answered, completely unmusically— finally having gotten the phone out of the pocket, I snatched it up and pressed the call answering button— What?

  - Who are you you scoundrel?!

  - Huh?!

  - Who are you, I am asking you, you freak! How did you end up with her phone?

  - Screw you! You’re the freak here! – I answered, at the end of my wits. – Where are you? Name an address, I’ll come over and break your head in!

  - …. – Silence was heard on the other end of the phone, and then the voice asked, with obvious uncertainty — Ross, is that you?

  - Yes! Wait… Vlas?

  - Yeah! Excellent, Ross! Listen, about what happened…

  - Well…it’s… don’t worry. – I interrupted him. – Really, it’s no fuss.

  - Ahem… Alright. So, Trouble is with you?

  - Well, you could say that— I sighed— She lies at my door drunk in the gutter. Shit…

  - Phew! Right to the heart, already I feel better. Well, not because she’s drunk, but because nothing happened to her. Listen, well, if you’re doing that with her…

  - Doing what?

  - Well, I mean, you’re her… uh-hh… You’re dating her? – Inquired Vlas in a neutral voice.

  - Huh? Well of course not. No. Where’d you get that from?

  - Well from that! Otherwise, why the hell did she create this whole scenario anyway? Are you aware that she broke our banker’s nose?

  - What?!

  - That’s right! Right in the house, too! I don’t know the details… Gosha doesn’t tell details over the phone much. But what a voice he had… a bit dejected, if you ask me. But I’m sorry, Ross. Truly, I’m sorry, brother. Kind of shitty of me. And on the phone, too… kind of hollow. It’s just I had just talked to Gosha and decided to find Kira… in case something happened. It’s night, after all. And then instead of her an angry man picks up, and so I blew up on you.

  - But how did she manage? Only a few hours have passed!

  - Trouble always comes quickly— guffawed Vlas— and already she visited Gosha. Ha ha… anyway, after all you…

  - No, we do not have anything going! – I snapped, and, recollecting myself, lowered my voice— Nothing.

  - Of course— said Vlas, not believing a word. – I’ll tell you this… if not, then the Trouble would not try to sabotage the mission given by the management team… Heh! What complex words I know. I’m growin’ up!

  - Wait… Sabotage? Kira?

  - Yep. For her, there was a special “extreme package” prepared. Stretch out your hand and take it. For all events of life. Every last detail taken into account. Craft gear, martial batons, a pile of scrolls of high-ranking military. Even the call for a boat! Read it and bam— the boat rocking on the water, take the handlebars and go wherever you want! And what did she bring with her?

  - Uhhh… swords, axes, chain mail— I began to remember— Sharp arrows… but without a bow…

  While I was unconsciously blurting out what Kira had with her when I first met her, my hand stretched forwards absently and stroked the hair of the girl on lying on the dirty concrete.

  Darling girl… what a lovely darling… thanks so much to your character for not taking the scroll to summon a ship… Which would have been so useful, would have been able to go across the Sea of Tears so easily. And so easy to find a reason for me to just swim across instead… mhm. I wouldn’t have boarded that ship, no way. Thank you once more Kira darling! Thank you!

  As the unsuspecting storm of emotions overwhelmed me, Vlas continued excitedly:

  - Yeah! And when you set off on the mission, our business manager was stunned. The prepared package was untouched— what she had taken was complete crap. Such crap, that going into a village basement with such weapons would be dangerous. The overall impression was that it was noob stuff she had taken. And Kira is not a noob, brother— in her time, she taught me well.

  - Total…

  - Exactly! But anyway— the deal is done. And Kira is okay. Well, I’ll talk to you later!

  - Vlas!

  The answer was silence. Not for long.

  There was the quiet creak of an opening door. Barbara Pavlova appeared in person. That was not surprising. We woke up the granny.

  - Rostislav? Is that you? Oh, my god! Kira darling! What’s the matter, dear? – Sighed Barbara, pretending that she had just seen the girl on the ground. For she was certainly awake a long time ago… watching through the peephole.

  Or not? She looked very much like an alarmed neighbor.

  - She’s alright, Barbara P. – I hastily reassured her; better calm her down, before a neighbor does not wait for explanation and calls the police and an ambulance. — She just drank too much. Excuse us, please, that we woke you.

  - Drank too much? It doesn’t seem like her at all— doubted the granny, detecting the scent of alcohol.

  And how do you know, what’s like her and what’s not? – I whispered in my head, but said something else aloud:

  - Uhuh… drank too much, it seems.

  - That means, there was a reason! – Said Barbara Pavlova firmly, leaning over Kira— Why’d you leave her on the cold pavement like that, you tyrant? No luck to bring her into the house?

  - No, no luck! – I coughed— and, the reason… uhhh… we had a quarrel.

  - Ah, youth— Sighed the old lady, and gave me a reproachful look— you lift that girl up, and bring her into the apartment. She’ll get a chill, and women shouldn’t catch chills! You yourself will be crying later, that you can’t have children. And whose fault is it going to be?

  - Barbara Pavlova! What chil
dren?! – I nearly howled.

  - And do not quarrel over trifles, I tell you! Life is not a game I tell you! To quarrel is easy, but to make up is harder… -- The old woman sighed again, and, newly enraged said— Raise the girl from the floor. What did I just tell you? And I’ll take this glass away, and take care of this mess…

  - I’ll do it— I protested; but Barbara angrily waved her hand and I started to move Kira, muttering under my breath.

  Life is not a game. Hm..

  I gripped on to her body and, sighing from the pain in my neck, dragged her into the apartment.

  The neighbor was unsatisfied with this action, and pursed her lips reproachfully. Well, I cannot lift her up! My hands are weak, and my neck almost can’t rotate at all! And so I walk sideways like a crab, and then to have to drag around drunken weight also! What do you expect?

  And the impression was that Kira had become a considerably heavier since last time. Or maybe the adrenaline charge in me is not enough?

  - The weight of betrayal was hard on you, hm? -- I gasped, unable to resist, lowering Kira onto the bed and weakly flopping down beside her.