The Way of the Clan 3 (World of Valdira)

by Dem Mikhaylov

  Closing the description, I stared long at the following message:

  “Assign a voice command to activate the one-time invulnerability. Say the words clearly. The command can be activated only by you personally, and other players uttering the voice command will not lead to activation.

  Warning: there is no option to deactivate once activated.

  Tips: Choose a voice command carefully, not out of ordinary and commonly used words, but preferably more than one word without meaningful content.”

  Examples of keywords with their resulting functionalities:

  Katyusha stepped out onto the shore… : accidental activation ability.

  The trigonometric consensus of the analytic function does not describe all of its amazing features! : The voice command was not pronounced fully.

  God give me strength! : The ability was successfully activated.

  Rumpelstiltskin! : Command was uttered three times, incorrectly. Not activated.

  Muka-puka-chika-druka! : The ability has been successfully activated.

  You shall not pass! : Accidental activation occurred.

  Abracadabra, hocus pocus, mu-ha-ha! : The ability was successfully activated.

  On the golden porch sat: the king, the prince, the king, the prince, a shoemaker, a tailor. Who are you? Tell me quick! I am— Immortal!: Voice command has not been fully delivered. Ability not activated.

  Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore: The ability was successfully activated.

  Yaga Doom! : The ability was successfully activated.

  I want to live! I want to live! : The ability has been successfully activated.

  Beavers run and each bread. Beavers are brave, beavers are bad: was uttered seven times incorrectly. Trigger did not occur.

  Do you want to see other options? Yes/No

  No, no, no… already trying hard to restrain myself from hysterics!

  The humorous message disappeared, and there was left a reminder:

  “Say the voice command:”

  Hmm… what should I say? Nothing from the vocabulary normally used by me, and nothing too wild… I don’t want to become invulnerable by muttering “Muka-puka-chika-druka.” Yeah… I imagine how it must have looked, this wild phrase invented by the player: a valiant knight facing his enemies, wounded, his incredibly cool and heroic face set in an angry grimace and suddenly, bang! Suddenly, suddenly, unexpectedly!... He begins a long stream of muttering “Muka, puka, chika, druka.” In the rush he makes a mistake and again, “Muka puka chica-druka…” half of the enemies would die of bouts of uncontrollable laughter… and the other half, just the same.

  Well, and the other option wouldn’t fly, either. The smart “trigonometric consensus…” that really wouldn’t do.

  I just want something quiet, not pathetic, and not wildly strange… and relatively short. I’ve got it!

  After confirming that the request was still active, I pronounced loudly and clearly:

  -- I will live forever!

  The village guard passing by gave me a puzzled sideways glance and went on his way. Well, at least he didn’t put a finger to his temple and twist it.

  “The command is accepted. We wish you a pleasant gaming experience.”

  Thank you. Same to you.

  I didn’t read any of the other letters. Not even scanned them, although their number was through the roof, and exceeded all of the reasonable limits. I have never seen a number of messages quite this huge, in fact. Other players would go mad from such wild popularity, but I just felt irritation. And, surely, most of the letters were about Lizanna and my hypothetical relations with her.

  Briskly rising up to my feel, I stretched my whole body, scratched Tyrant behind the ear and slowly looked around, assessing the scope of the future work. I stood on the outskirts, a few steps away from the guards at the gate.

  Before me was the sprawling village of Selenium, in which the citizens probably could not imagine how much the player Rosgard yearned to help them, every inhabitant without exception. Even if forcibly. If anyone should cry out in resistance, shrieking that he did not need any help— I would still offer that help! Even by force!

  Well— let’s begin, I suppose!

  A little past noon… The hot midday sun casts a flood of blinding hot light on the ground.

  It’s about time to go into the shady woods for an adventure, or to lie on the banks of a cool river, lazily watching the water float by… But this story is not about me! In the hottest hour, I stood in the sun in the middle of the dusty village square, among a dozen other players and “locals” and listened attentively to the stammering speech of an old woman, her face darkened with age. The grandma was just finishing her heartfelt speech about old age, infirmity, and cursing the dry land and the rickety huts. To put it bluntly the grandma wanted a piece of land dug up in her backyard, freed from a few tree stumps, boulders, and other debris, and turned into a fertile garden.

  -- … and if only my granddaughters could help me with this back-breaking work, then you won’t be without compensations! You’ll have a full bowl of nourishing porridge…

  With these careless words about the porridge bowl most players simultaneously turned and almost marched away. The compensation was just negligible— for such a hell of a job.

  -- …and a couple of coppers too! – hurried the old woman, sorrowed at seeing her potential saviors walk away. At the magic word “coppers,” no one even broke their stride. Moreover— three or more just simply went home, uninterested in such a badly-paying job. Only three of us were left— a fat “local” in ragged clothes and an unkempt “alcoholic” look, and another player standing just behind me.

  -- Five! No! Eight coppers, my falcons! Eight whole ones! – the woman almost howled— Please!

  -- Eight coins and a hearty mean… if you put a pitcher of beer on the table, then I think I’ll take that task— boomed the “local”, delighted in the increase in competitors— for a couple of days of work, I don’t doubt! A long as there is food on the table each and every day!

  Yes… some job competition existed. Especially on such tasks as this— singular and ordinary all at once. Just a few days ago, the village of Selenium had extended its borders— with conditions. It’s not like, as if by magic, brand new houses and flowering gardens appeared overnight. Only free land, which still needed work. Just like in the real world. Somewhere over time there will be a house, then a garden. Assuming there will be work done, by either players or “locals”.

  -- Oho-ho— sighed the grandmother, appreciating the impressive size of the “worker’s” belly— Well, why so long, falcon? Not a big plot of land at all! As big as your fingernail, no more!

  -- You decide, hostess— shrugged the “local” in mock indifference— There are no other workers rushing to do your bidding. This is nothing but kindness for your old age.

  Letting out another broken sigh, the old lady began to bow her head in submission, but I interrupted, pronouncing in a kindly voice the murderous phrase:

  -- I’ll fulfill all the work in one day, hostess, and with the utmost excellence.

  Over the past few hectic hours I had gone through such turmoil, that even my style of interactions with the “locals” had changed.

  Hearing my wild words, the “local” choked and coughed. And the bewildered eyes of the lady bore into my own:

  -- Have I heard correctly, falcon? My ears in recent years, they often fail me…

  -- That’s right— I nodded— One day.

  -- And… what fee would you like? – the granny lowered her voice— is it very unreasonable?

  After an impressive pause, I assumed the expression of a detached holy man, and opened by mouth and blurted out:

  -- It’s free! A gift! I won’t take a penny, lady. And setting the table isn’t necessary, either— just some water from the well to relieve my thirst.

  Oh, how I’ve turned the tables…

  The answer was a heavy silence. The grandmother sta
red at me in astonishment and the “local”, shuddering from a whooping cough, slowly trudged away. Apparently afraid that my stupidity was contagious, and that he could pick up this wild infection.

  -- So, do you agree, granny? – I showed my impatience.

  -- Well, of course, I agree! – hurried the grandmother, wringing her hands— Who would refuse such a good deed?! You were sent from the gods themselves, it seems! So you’ll undertake it, then?

  -- I’ll undertake it! – I answered firmly.

  You have received the job “Serious Land Work!”

  Help the feeble old woman make her plot of land suitable for gardening.

  Minimum conditions for the job: no foreign objects on site, and land should be carefully dug up.

  Reward: None.

  Simply charming…

  -- Well… let’s get to it, granny— I sighed, straining my “virtual” muscles— Where is it necessary to dig? From sunrise to sunset…

  -- Go, go my bright falcon! – hurried the granny.

  -- And me!

  The voice, which had been silent until now, sounded, and I drew my attention to it for the first time.

  Better if I hadn’t… it was my turn to freeze in wild amazement, my eyes bulging as I looked.

  It seemed to be an elf… a very strange elf. Very skinny and with an elongated body over two meters long, a tall thin neck, upon which, entirely crookedly, was a completely bald head. A bald elf! Not a single hair was on the head of the elf, but a myriad of scattered scars,

  What completed this image of external grandeur were two fractured and torn ears, cheerfully sticking skywards and slightly twitching. A copper earring hung on his left ear in the shape of an inverted infinity sign.

  An awe-inspiring nickname.. “Orbit Crystallino”. The class of character unclear, the twenty-eighth level, a type standard for this terrain. Oh my g… what are you?

  -- What do you want, grandson? – the frightened old woman asked.

  -- Take me too… to plow the land— said the bald elf, towering over the flimsy granny— Also free of charge. And not necessary to feed me.

  -- I’ll take it! – quickly asserted the employer— What’s not to accept? Oh, how it goes! Right, my falcons?

  -- Yeah— I said, still not taking my eyes off of the exotic species Orbit Crystallino. About his leather vest over his naked body and his orange shapeless pants, there was nothing at all to say.

  -- There is no doubt— the elf spoke, rubbing his hand over his bald head— Changing the nature of the infertile ground to fertile is necessary… no doubt.

  “Wow…!” – I gave a mental conclusion— “this young man is very unusual. Damn it! I mean, the boy is not too friendly with his head…”.

  And off we went. Ahead of us the old lady trotted smartly, and we walked behind her— the bald elf and I. Timur and his team… but if I’m Timur, what do I need such a team for!

  On the other hand, if we work together, the task will go much faster. And it would have no effect on the desired outcome— to increase my reputation in Selenium. In general, no disadvantages.

  However, it might be that the job is a trick— that, if I start to work, this great mysterious Don Crystallino” will just sit under a tree and wait until I fix the garden myself… and take all the credit. The world of Valdira is so diverse that it is virtually no different from the “real” world. It even surpasses the former. Tricks like that almost always go unpunished.

  -- Rosgard…

  -- Aha— I spoke monosyllabically, looking at the strange companion.

  -- I – am Orbit. Would you like to know why I have this name?

  -- To be honest, not really— I confessed.

  -- Okay. When you want me to, I’ll tell you.

  -- Agreed— I nodded. Oh, the strange people… and talking so strangely too.

  -- Here we are, my clear falcons! Here is my bit of land…

  Looking in the direction indicated by the grandmother, I heaved a sigh of genuine relief.

  The old lady hadn’t lied— the land behind this fence was extremely small. Twenty by twenty, a kind of square, and one side directly adjacent to the rear wall of an ancient hut with a pair of windows.

  But a lot of garbage— an impassable jungle, overcoming which one would need an elite commando unit. Tall withered grass mixed with rotten stumps, gray boulders and loose gray shards… sometimes even the white of bones of unknown animals. A sort of overgrown weedy landfill, long been used as a pet cemetery.

  -- Here it is, my own bit of land— repeated the old lady with emotion in her voice, as though she were in front of a paradise – Here it is. When will you proceed, heroes?

  -- This glorious knight— I jabbed my finger into my chest— Will proceed right now.

  -- And this glorious knight, too— the bald-headed elf repeated with some slowness— will proceed.

  Hardly able to resist a chuckle, I asked:

  -- And what about the tools, granny? Where are they?

  -- The instruments are there, my dears— the granny pointed to the tools neatly stacked by the fence— And put everything there— a wizened finger moved to the empty wagon, standing five steps away— I have begged for that empty wagon, practically begged the herod for a cart!

  -- Alright, thank you, hostess— I answered with a polite, slight bow— When we’re done— we’ll give you a call. In the meantime, go inside and take a rest.

  Nodding goodbye, the grandmother bustled to the house, and I walked to the instruments and examined them and, immediately choosing the axe with a wide blade, remembered my first day with Vlasilena. How she doing now?

  -- I’ll do the roots and root stumps— I informed.

  -- You?

  -- Yes.

  -- And what about me? They’re long… imagine you jump at the root and pull it— the bald elf became animated— And it goes a whole kilometer down into the ground! And you’re dragging it, pulling, and you don’t even know about it… and then, bam, you pull it and you’re sucked in!

  -- Huh! – I nearly jumped— Where?!

  -- Into the root! – responded the puzzled Orbit— Bam! And you’re pulled in! Waist-deep! Legs up for a second, up in the air…

  -- Stop, stop, my dear! Enough, I get it!

  -- Not at all! The root is deep, and you’re only pulled up to the waist— the elf did not agree— That’s not the end of it, at all!

  -- I’m not talking about that! Let’s work! Come on. I’ll uproot the stumps.

  -- You?

  -- Aye.

  -- And me? Oh!

  -- And you can take the hammer and break the large rocks into pieces— I began hurriedly, not wanting to experience déjà vu in full effect— Do you have enough strength?

  -- Once I climbed to the fourth floor, carrying eight kilos of tomatoes— said Orbit with a slow dignity— I stopped only twice.

  -- So, that means you do— I summed up and, not wishing to continue the strange conversation, went to the far side of the future garden— Let’s start!

  After five hours of continuous labor, the earth dramatically transformed. The vegetation disappeared, as well as the boulders and rotten stumps. To my genuine surprise, my companion worked, for the most part, in silence, only once in a while emitting strange observations and comments.

  Standing by the fence, the grandmother overlooked the land with a falcon’s gaze and, finding nothing to complain about, nodded in satisfaction.

  -- Oh, thank you, grandsons. Good work! You rescued me! May the illustrious gods gift you with good luck!

  Congratulations!

  The task: “Serious Work” was completed!

  Reward: none.

  Congratulations!

  +1 goodwill to relationship with the inhabitants of Village of Selenium!

  At last! Five hours of unpaid work produced their results, and my reputation had risen one point, bringing the grand total to seven…

  -- And good health to you, grandmother— I said, bidding her farewell
as I stood next to the bald elf, and turned and walked to the center of the village.

  Seven points of reputation out of fifty— earned with some effort. To get to the reclusive collector Mr. Cedric, the reputation level must be less than ten. Three points is not enough, but I knew what to do to change this.

  Today, the day had passed precisely for the purpose— for the sake of reputation!

  Wherever it was possible— I refused all awards offered to me for the tasks, carefully cultivating a sense of good faith and heroism. At the same time, I collected all the information I could, asking the villagers about their benefactor the lord Cedric. My reputation grew bit by bit. But the most important things, I learned.

  There were only two ways to approach the collector. Two official and “legal” ways, that is.

  Once a month, Mr. Cedric appeared in Algora— very close to the village— where he would communicate with others like him, rich nobles at a posh reception. There one could freely talk with him, sipping a glass of fine wine and admiring the fine collectible rarities. Bearing in mind that I am not rich, this option was out of the question. I would never be able to get past the guards. There was a second way, already well known to me— the way of conquering the heart of the village by gaining the trust of Selenium’s villagers, proving to them that I am the most kind, the most unselfish hero of heroes. The shining role model. And then, the gates would swing open and the benefactor himself would hand me the award. Given an audience.

  Other ways to get close to the benefactor simply did not exist— at least, none available to me.

  Take the estate by storm— not within my forces. Climb in under at nightfall— not in my skill set. And I wasn’t about to share any information about the Silver legend with the other players. That’s out of the question.

  To get into the number of those “permitted” to see Mr. Cedric, one needed a reputation level of no less than ten in one of the villages belonging to them, of which there was a total of six.

  To get to the tenth point one needed to be awarded a special task from one of the village elders, adding just two points. To get to the elders who gave out the job, one needed a reputation level of no less than seven points. It was an almost endless effort. I still had two outstanding jobs, but I was saving them for later.