The Way of the Clan 3 (World of Valdira)

by Dem Mikhaylov

  And now I was in a hurry— the day was expiring. With sunset, I would have to lay off the mission for another day, but it couldn’t wait until morning. Personally, I was not going to sleep. And the approaching darkness did not frighten me. Where I was heading, daylight never breached anyway.

  Hearing shuffling steps, I looked around with some surprise, and saw Mr. Crystallino perusing me.

  Without stopping, I idly wondered

  -- Where are you going?

  -- With you.

  -- After me? – this time, my surprise was considerably greater— Why?

  -- It’s fun with you— was the reply, and I had to think…

  Fun? Five hours plowing land, as though in prison, without the slightest hint of a reward? And this is considered fun?

  -- I’m not looking for company— I said neutrally, but the bald elf shrugged, never breaking his stride.

  Fine… I don’t have time for this.

  The mayor was in his right place— sitting heavily on a low bench, the rotund gentleman with a gray mustache sat under a canopy, fanning his face with a handkerchief and complacently looking at the players and locals.

  -- Good day, good sir— I went straight to the point.

  -- Same to you, Rosgard— gently smiled the elder, and I immediately felt better at heart— I’ve heard about you.

  He had smiled, called me by name, and even had heard about me— all these factors just screamed that he was ready to talk with me.

  -- You’ve brought a lot of good to my village— in the meantime continued the gray-mustachioed man— Not for benefits, but with sincere intentions of trying to help. You’ve helped a lot of people, solved many issues… ah… if only all troubles were resolved so simply…

  There we go!

  -- If there’s a problem— I’ll help! If you have a job— I’ll take it without thinking. — I willingly offered my humble services.

  -- Hmm… -- said the elder slowly, and I quickly froze like an ice statue.

  The quest was given only once a day. If today, a similar task was given to one of the other players— well, tomorrow, I would have no chance. Losing time was not desirable.

  -- It is a dangerous business— said he, and looked at me searchingly— Anything could happen.

  -- I am no stranger to danger— I retorted.

  -- Yes, and an unclean place… horrible…

  -- I am not afraid.

  -- Well… it’s imprudent to refuse the help of a warrior such as you. Here’s my order, Rosgard! Not far from our village there is a place— let it be damned! – that’s the place where you should go. The name of it— the Breeding Grounds. That’s what we call it among ourselves, but on the map it goes by a different name— Karst caves. Have you heard of them?

  -- I have— I replied curtly.

  -- Every abomination occurs in the Breeding Grounds. Trash! One cannot call it by another name! Pretty much small creatures, not particularly dangerous, but when their number grows and they begin to arrange their vile rituals worshipping their gods, they can cause us trouble, and they’re not far enough from us! You can’t disturb the dead! They can rebel! If we let this happen, there will be a hell of a lot of trouble. They nest in narrow and deep holes, and so to eradicate them completely is not in our power, but perhaps you can reduce the number of these repulsive creatures. Destroy a dozen or so of these creatures and I will sigh with relief. And if you can wreck their vile altar, you will deserve the infinite gratitude of the entire village, Rosgard! Do you follow?

  -- I do— I nodded, with a carefully concealed impatience— Destroy no less than fifteen creatures, and destroy the altar if possible.

  -- That’s right, you’ve got it! But no random creatures but those who live deep in the caves, and flaunt purple cloaks! Where they get them I have no idea, I can’t believe the tyrants sew them themselves! Bring me fifteen such cloaks, and you will have our gratitude and a reward, as well. We won’t be stingy! For each cloak, we’ll drop you one gold coin!

  -- A very generous offer, respected elder— I nodded gratefully— but I do not need any reward! I refuse! It’s a sin to prey on other people’s misfortunes. I will do everything to avert disaster to your village and to make your lives more prosperous.

  -- Oh, how… -- the bewildered mayor uttered, staring at me from under his bushy gray eyebrows— but this is so commendable! Have it your way!

  You got the quest “Steer Away Trouble!”

  On behalf of the headman of the village, go to Selenium’s Karst caves and destroy at least fifteen Kobold-charmers in purple cloaks.

  Optional: to destroy the alter of Gigramon if possible.

  Minimum conditions: to destroy fifteen Kobold-charmers.

  Reward: none.

  -- I shall go immediately— I bowed my head, struggling to refrain from leaping for joy.

  -- And may luck guide you, Rosgard— said the mayor, stroking his mustache— And we pray for you, don’t you doubt it!

  -- And I – in stepped the bald elf, and I could not help choking.

  -- Eh? – the elder did not understand, and glanced suspiciously at Orbit.

  Right-o— he absolutely did not know him, for the bald-elf’s reputation was hardly more than a measly two units.

  -- I’ll go to the breeding grounds, too— said the elf, not taking his eyes off the elder— On the assignment. With Rosgard. Awards not necessary.

  -- And who are you, good elf? – said the gray-mustached mayor, with sarcasm, confirming my thoughts about the bald elf’s reputation— I do not know you at all. You haven’t earned our trust. Why would I give you any quests?

  -- Why?

  -- Yes.

  -- Because the rocket forces have not taken me— said Crystallino, with an inexpressible bitterness.

  The mayor froze, I slowly backed away, trying to get out of there. And hoped to god that he would not take back the job.

  The conversation that followed shocked me.

  -- They did not take you, either? – asked the elder in a different voice, animating and jumping to his feet— and they didn’t take me, too!

  I could barely stay on my feet, and nearly planted my ass in the dust. Did I mishear?!

  -- Well because the recruiting troops do not take everybody! – weakly growled the elder, patting Orbit on the shoulder— In my time I dreamed of getting there too, son! Well, let’s say it didn’t work out… I had to go back to the village empty-handed! By height and face you see, I didn’t make it! And it seems the same with you too, ahem… for the same reason…

  -- No, I was told that, people like me…

  -- They didn’t take you, so what! – the elder cut him off— Nothing to worry about. Here, some wine and some bread— into the hand of the bald elf, the mayor stuck a copper cup and poured it full to the brim with wine. Armed with the same vessel, the elder clinked loudly and they simultaneously upturned their glasses.

  No one had poured me any wine. I just licked my dry lips and stared in astonishment at what was happening.

  -- Do not be bitter! – continued the mayor in the meantime— You say you want to go to the Breeding Grounds? To prove your courage and worth, yes?

  -- Uh… yes… it…

  -- And right! The face is not the main thing! And neither the height! A brave heart and desire to serve the motherland! That’s the main thing! Right?

  -- Yeah…

  -- So let it be! O! Rosgard!

  -- At your service, mayor— I said with a squeak.

  -- Take him with you on your journey! He can’t find a place for him because of his grief. Eh! They didn’t take him, those damn recruiters! And he could have spent his whole life preparing!

  -- I did – nodded the bald elf and made a strange movement with his index finger—Trained in the elevator, pressing buttons. Press. Ready! Press! On your marks! Press! Flyyy….

  -- There! And they turned him down! Anyway, take him with you. Such a brave companion will not be cumbersome to you in battle! In general, wh
at discussion is there? We were denied by the same hiring troops! Take him! Only you have to bring not a dozen, but all thirty cloaks. So it’s fair. I will await both of your returns with impatience. Come back with good news!

  The job description hanging before my eyes blinked, and the text changed. Now, to run the errand, I would have to kill twice as many Kobolds. Otherwise, the job would not be completed.

  -- Well, I’ll go, perhaps— the elder disturbed the deathly silence— It’s already evening! And good luck to you, soldiers! Show them who’s boss!

  -- Yeah— I nodded stupidly.

  -- We’ll show them— drawled the bald elf.

  They got me…

  The mayor had thought us to be good friends. Perhaps the system informed him that we had already done one job together— bringing order to the old woman’s garden. And lo and behold, he sent us on another task together.

  The wildest coincidence— my utterly strange companion had spontaneously struck a nerve with his bizarre and out of place phrase, and gotten to the “weakness” of the mayor. Looks like they had tried to join the same ranks of valiant troops, but they were each denied— and the dream remained. Now, the mayor was imbued with sympathy for those suffering the same fate as him. The phrase “missile forces” had certainly meant something to him. An exact hit, and the quest was opened. And I’m like a damned humpback, doing all the village work! Who would have known?

  And now I have to do exactly twice as much work in the Karst caves. Either way you put it.

  Although. With my level, I should be able to kill sixty, if I don’t look for trouble and act wisely. But I had to rid myself of the bald elf. Otherwise, he’d lead me to sin…

  After trailing the elder with my eyes, I turned to the lord Crystallino:

  -- When are you going to go and perform the task?

  -- How about you?

  -- I do not know yet— I shrugged— But in any case, not right now. So you don’t have to wait for me.

  -- Whatever you say— the elf nodded appeasably— Then I’ll go.

  -- Good luck.

  -- Uh-huh.

  -- You should probably equip yourself better before you go to the dungeon— I recommended, seeing the elf walk away from the shopping area— there will be hard times ahead. Well… however you see fit, in short. Good luck!

  Not waiting for an answer, I sprinted to the hotel. The bouncing Tyrant hurried after me. The cub had grown to the ninth level— as I was breaking my back in the grandmother’s garden, Tyrant was engaged in the extermination of small local critters. They were small animals, on a piece of land a few steps away from the edge of the village. Although very small, and gave very little experience, five hours of this continuous destruction yielded some nice results.

  I had left only to take all of my remaining cash out of my personal room, to collect all my junk, sell it, and buy all the necessary equipment for the breeding ground.

  My tightly packed backpack was emptied, but my purse was pilled. All of the unremarkable aggr-player armour went to the village merchant. Almost all. I left myself a few alchemic potions for mana and life. A few, increasing agility and strength.

  Another fancy bottle, I also kept, surprised at its action— the potion made one’s hair shine brightly for two hours. One’s own hair. That is, once consumed, one’s hair would turn into a walking lightbulb. An interesting alternative to a torch, what can I say.

  The last thing I did not sell was left in my private room— a book. No benefits, worth nothing. No. Normal art books, four in total, who knows how they came to be owned by the aggrs. Perhaps the aggrs were so well-read. Perhaps, he had taken it from one of his prey.

  Why did I leave this trash? Well, looking forwards to that glorious time when I would not have to hurry. And then, I would have the leisure of sitting in a comfortable chair next to the fireplace, and would plunge into leisurely reading. Again, at least some improvement into the private room— even an ordinary wall shelf or bookcase would do. I would begin a personal library. Two books were ordinary love stories, with colorful covers— two were detective novels in which a detective with a catchy, generic name investigates his own murder. Ha…

  And a fifth book… yes, there was also a fifth. Very thick, massive, with a yellowed leather binding. But it was so old and decrepit that it fell apart in my hands at my first attempt at opening it. It turned into a shapeless pile of densely packed pages without a single picture, and a wrinkled cover. I skimmed some of the sheets and came to the conclusion that it was some sort of fundamental, wildly boring book on astronomy. If I read it from cover to cover, it would certainly give me some points of intelligence. And not just in the world of Valdira, but also in real life! And if I had tried to understand it, moreover… In short— an incredibly tedious and boring book as thick as two bricks.

  That’s why, in the case of literature, I decided not to include it in my budding library, or else dislocation of the brain was eminent. The useless sheets went into a pile of garbage on by the door. I was going to send the cover to the same place and had already begun to swing for the throw, when I noticed, on the inner side of the book cover, several incomprehensible black scrawlings and symbols.

  It did not take a lot to understand that it was text. Most likely, it had been an unidentified object— so the letters were incomprehensible gibberish. The finding intrigued me so much that I forgot about tidying the private room and, with my bag over my shoulder, walked to the door, not forgetting to whistle to Tyrant.

  In the rush to sell everything, I questioned the closing shop dealer and, following his instructions, soon found myself at the house of the local scribe, cartographer, and “recognizer” in one person.

  This unique personality happened to be a frail old man who, despite the hot weather, was wrapped in an unimaginable amount of clothing, making himself appear like a potbellied cabbage.

  From my tongue nearly slipped the phrase “aren’t you hot?” but what I said aloud was really quite different:

  -- Good evening, respectable sir.

  -- And good evening to you, monsieur— the slightly disgruntled old man said— How can I help, Rosgard? I was really going to leave now, but I will wait for such a person as yourself. Have you got nowhere to spend the night? That can be easily remedied!

  Oh! My hard-earned reputation was beginning to bear its first fruits! Already, these people know me by face.

  Right— it also just occurred to me that, as I was trading, I had raked in a lot more money than expected. That’s how it is. The higher the reputation, the more you sell, the less you pay.

  And the slight tone of strife in the old man’s voice— seems that it’s just in his nature. Not meaning any harm, just out of habit.

  -- And thank you for your concern— I beamed brightly— with all my heart! But I would like to buy a map of the surrounding area, sir. Will you not find it?

  -- Hm! How could I not? Would you like the one with a magic incantation, or the regular one?

  -- The regular one would do— I nodded— As long as it’s accurate.

  -- All of my maps are precise— the old man cut me off— You won’t get lost! Here you go, son. Five silvers from you. In fact, normally would not take less than seven coins for such a map, but for you… so be it!

  -- Why, thank you sir! I won’t forget your kindness— I bowed politely and took the book cover from my pocket— If you could just inform me, of one little thing…

  -- Well, let’s see it— the old man encouraged, blinking shortsightedly.

  Taking my cover, he opened it and peered into all the incomprehensible symbols, and suddenly shuddered all over as if petrified.

  Attention!

  -3 Goodwill to the relationship with Villagers of Selenium!

  -- What?! – from my throat, escaped a muffled cry— But how?!

  -- Ahem…-- in the voice of the old man, I could hear the markedly diminished goodwill— I was able to recognize this… thing… my good man.

  Shit! He
no longer calls me by my name! “Good man!” Well, at least he didn’t call me a stranger!

  -- Take it— continued the scribe, hastily handing me the cover— The thing has been identified. I won’t take any charge from you. We have a peaceful village, good man. We worship the gods of light…

  -- As do I!— I blurted, without looking, taking the cover and quickly hiding it out of sight in my jacket— Like me! Believe me!

  -- Hm… but this thing..

  -- Came to me by accident! I found it!— I went on the defensive— Totally random!

  -- Well… I guess it happens… -- thoughtfully chewing his lips, the scribe agreed.

  Congratulations1

  +1 goodwill to the relationship with Villagers of Selenium!

  Phew… at least, I had partially saved my poor reputation! What kind of garbage is written on this cover?

  -- If so, let me give you a piece of advice, Rosgard— continued the old scribe— Get rid of this thing. Any text written on tanned human skin cannot be good. And certainly not aimed at our gods of light.

  Human skin?!

  -- I-I’ll take your advice to heart— I stammered— For sure!

  -- Very well— the old man smiled benevolently, getting up with difficulty— Good luck, Rosgard. All the best.

  -- All the best— I nodded, forcing a strained smile.

  The door slammed, and I was left alone.

  Moving twenty or so paces away from the house of the scribe, I chose an empty bench and sat down and pulled the damned thing out of my pocket. The words had become clear, and I stared in bewilderment and cursed— it was not a spell, or any knowledge, as I had hoped.

  No. They were perfectly ordinary, unremarkable, awkward, very long and absolutely incomprehensible verses!

  Tantarial!

  Bubbling and boiling spirited fun!

  Here we celebrate life!

  Here is glory to the heroes!

  Here stir the hearts of young heroes

  And foamy beer flows like water!

  The bridge thunders from dancing!

  But if you look a little deeper…