Rare archetypes usually had six abilities, and Free Merchant was no exception. I knew only two so far, revealing the other four required investing attribute points. Sphere made the player choose, whether to spend free points on attributes, making the character stronger, or whether to develop an archetype. That was a hard decision. I had four attribute points left, and I decided to take a risk, putting three of them into Appraise to increase the archetype rank and consequently see new abilities.
Free Merchant
Rank 2: Journeyman
Peddler (3/3): You’re an expert in keeping your inventory safe. You receive fifteen additional inventory slots. The chance of losing items at death is decreased by 15%, depending on your karma.
Scrooge (0/3): You know how to cut costs and receive 0.1% additional cashback for each deal.
HIDDEN (rank 3 required)
Active abilities:
Appraise (3/3): You know everything about prices in Sphere and can learn the cost of each item at a glance, excluding unidentified and legendary items.
Non Olet Pecunia (0/3): You can trade with all creatures, except mindless, aggressive creatures, hostile to your faction.
HIDDEN (rank 3 required)
Scrooge could bring me three thousand gold for each million. This would only become a factor if my turnover was enormous. So far, I could only dream of that kind of volume. But Non Olet Pecunia looked like an interesting ability, nonetheless. If I got it correctly, after investing all three points into it, I could trade with all Sphere inhabitants, irrespective of race, alignment, and faction relations. It was attractive, but not something I needed at the moment. I also had no idea where to get so many attribute points; I only had one left. Whatever. At least I had three full-blown archetypes: Novice Trader, Novice Warrior, Free Merchant...
I pulled myself together and left the tent. Dawn was breaking, clear fog swirling above the ground. Once again, I was amazed by the realistic physics of the weather effects in this world. I ran my hand over the grass, collecting large dewdrops on my skin.
It was quiet, with only the trills of birds and the rustle of leaves to disturb the silence.
We set camp near a small brook behind smooth grey boulders, hidden inside giant overgrown ferns and surrounded by sparse yoke-elms. Our tiny, almost smokeless campfire crackled softly.
“How was the night, Alex?” I asked my friend, who was stirring something in a grimy kettle with a focused expression.
“It was all right. I increased my Cooking,” he said, and a smile appeared on his stubble-covered face. He handed me a twig with a bunch of mushrooms all different shapes and sizes skewered onto it.
“I even unlocked a new recipe. Go on, try it! Not the most delicious thing in the world, but it’s a pretty good buff.”
“Nobody came? Did the PROJECT look for us?” I kept asking, while warily taking a bite of a mushroom. Yep, it tasted like rubber.
“Chill out, it was quiet. Nobody even checked the Disguise. They lost us.”
“How’s he doing?” I nodded at the Err, who was sitting by himself.
“Not well. He’s on edge.”
Endved emitted a dull moan, squeezing his temples with his hands. The young Err was sullen. He had purple bags under his eyes, and his cheek muscles kept flexing.
“Don’t torture yourself, Err,” said AlexOrder, who was being calm and reasonable. “Things like this happen sometimes. The defeat is not your fault.”
“I had to perform a thorough recon.” Endved replied, through gritted teeth. “Keep with me players who can...foresee such...what did you call it? Drops?”
“There are too few, too few!” He said, mocking someone’s voice. “I killed so many Eyrian warriors. They died for nothing.”
“It was Pandorum, Err. We never stood a chance.” The Vulture’s son raised his grey eyes at us.
“When will we return to Eyre, players? My people are waiting for me...I have to go back!”
“Twelve more hours until the NPCs respawn,” Alex whispered to me, answering the Err’s question.
“The city’s surrounded. My clan will get help. We’ll crush them, and then you’ll return.”
“Fine. The chosen one, whom I trust, told me to listen to you.” Endved said, straightening his back. We sat in companionable silence. What I had always liked about Alex was how easy it was to be silent with him.
Soft system chiming, that only I could hear, announced the arrival of a new message in the alliance’s operational channel. Two letters arrived, one after the other, and the translucent icon of a closed envelope flickered, which made me want to open it. Going by Alex’s intent look, he was already reading them.
The messages were sent by Komtur. In a sharp and authoritative tone, he informed everyone that ever since 8 AM Moscow Time today, the Watchers and PROJECT HELL were neutral to each other. Insubordination and continuing to fight would be punished by removal from the clan. The Watchers and their allies were leaving the faction war, removing their members from stations in Dan-na-Eyre, and canceling alert status. Participating in defense on the side of the Eyre Nation was prohibited.
At the end of the letter, Komtur asked us not let our emotions run away with us, to think rationally, and to trust him.
The second message was an official announcement about assembling a raid to farm the dungeons of something called Helt Akor (Endless Paths). There was a detailed questionnaire for anybody wishing to apply, as well as a list of links, demonstrating the required supplies, elixirs, equipment, and required skills and archetypes. Judging by the dates, farm was supposed to start as early as the following day.
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over me, and I was being enveloped by a very nasty feeling. I looked at Alex.
“(censored) do you realize what’s going on?”
“I’m afraid they’ve dropped the ball on us,” said AlexOrder, a sad smile on his face. “I’ve contacted Tikhon. He says, we’re to abandon the quest. They’ve come to an agreement with Tao.”
HotCat: Komtur, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?
Komtur: Easy now, Cat. And don’t write in caps—are you shouting at me?
HotCat: We had a deal. I want AN explanation.
Komtur: I’m so fed up with all your requests. Stop these (censored) hysterics.
Komtur: You are a recruit. I am not obliged to explain anything to you.
Komtur: I’ll make an exception, out of the goodness of my heart.
Komtur: I got an offer I couldn’t refuse. It will make the clan much stronger. The epic quest with Err is nothing. For this reason, we quit the war.
HotCat: It looks an awful lot like betrayal.
Komtur: A betrayal of whom? Of what? Cat, you’re a trader. Imagine how much this war is costing the clan! Elixirs, items, buffs, ritual ingredients, other consumables… War is a luxury, and fighting Pandas is pointless, anyway. Use your head and think—why get involved, when leaving is profitable?
HotCat: I see. I’m warning you, I won’t abandon the Err. I will continue with the quest.
Komtur: You won’t be able to. Anyway, that’s your business. I’ve passed on your coordinates, anyway. Most likely, they’re already on their way.
I disconnected, gritting my teeth, then opened the clan interface and clicked the sacramental button.
HotCat left the clan’s Liberty School!
He would not be able to give my coordinates to anyone else, now. Ivan and Maria wrote me almost immediately.
Flame: Cat, what the hell’s going on? First Svenn left, then you! And Argentum chewed out the bosses!
Valkyria: A few Watchers just left the clan.
Valkyria: Cat, we’re ready to leave, too. If you need help...
Flame: Just ask!
HotCat: No! Stop! You won’t be able to help anyway, we’re too far away. But I want to ask you something else!
Valkyria: Speak, Oleg.
HotCat: In the Upper Quarter, there’s a shop. Its vendor is Weldy Nialit...
Flame: Yeah, yeah, we know where your darling lives!
HotCat: Good. If Eyre falls, can you save her? Get her out of town, hide her?
Flame: Will do, Cat.
Valkyria: Rest easy.
“Bullshit!” I growled. “Alex, the Watchers are a PvP clan! How can they sell themselves for the sake of farming some dungeon?”
“Helt Akor isn’t just some dungeon,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Any clan would give their heads for Helt Akor, without thinking twice.” Then he told me everything, about the Endless Paths, its masters and guardians, about Dread and Hope.
It was the greatest dungeon in Sphere, running through it like a worm’s winding tunnel through a ripe apple. It started from the Upper Worlds, the Throne of Light, and ended in the deepest recesses of the Netherworld. Almost all Sphere worlds opened into the Endless Paths, and some could only be accessed by them. This dungeon, an interworld instance node, was home to unique NPC factions with unique quests. It housed entire locations and cities, as well as its own sizable microcosm. Sometimes, the coordinates to the entrance of Helt Akor alone, were enough to spark a clan war.
Nobody knew the number of floors, levels, halls, and passages inside the Paths, but rumor had it at 999, and any player who cleared the final would receive an unimaginable prize. The lower levels were teeming with such horrible monsters, that the raid progress of players, who specialized in clearing the Endless Paths, slowed to almost a halt. The upper and middle levels were mostly doable, even if side burrows sometimes contained...things.
In Helt Akor, one could find unique items and weapons, learn super rare skills and obtain weird archetypes. At any point, the teams exploring the Endless Paths could bump into each other in the dungeon’s instances. Multipage forum topics told stories of these encounters and their outcome, be it a ruthless slaughter, or peaceful resolution.
Problem was, in our world, Dorsa, the entrance to Endless Paths was in a dungeon on territory belonging to PROJECT HELL. Once, Tao and his team were the early bird that got the worm, and their castle, Weeping Devil, was built on top of the ruins of an ancient keep, beneath which, stood the entrance to Helt Akor. A lot of PROJECT’s fame and fortune, most of their equipment and their wealth, had been earned while farming the Endless Paths. HELL farmed the paths themselves, and sometimes sold access to other clans.
“We have to decide one thing.” I told Alex when he finished his story. “Are you with me? What did Komtur tell you?”
AlexOrder chuckled.
“We are free people, Cat. Nobody can force us to act against our will. Just look at me.”
I examined him closely and saw it. The Watchers tag was no longer above his head. Alex had left the clan.
“Of course I’m with you,” he said.
CHAPTER 26 SVOY
As well as increasing area influence and garrison capacity, upgrading a fort to level two also added four wooden towers, platforms for eight ballistae and one catapult, and gave permission to build several new buildings inside the walls. NPC workers had erected scaffolding all over the structure. Saws were screeching, and hammers were banging. The upgrade countdown timer showed sixteen more hours.
“Here, we’ll have barracks and a guardroom. Here, a warehouse. And there, by the gate, we’ll build a tavern...”
“Has the NPC garrison already arrived?”
“From Hayvin? Are you kidding, mate? We’ve transported almost a hundred on birdies over the past week, and we’ll be taking more. The war, it seems, is here to stay.”
“If it weren’t for the rollback, we wouldn’t be here anymore,” said Svoy, gritting his teeth.
He had arrived at the southern outpost of PROJECT HELL on Eyre’s border. His task was to replace the guards on duty there. During the war, Tao did not want to risk only having NPCs watch the outpost. Actually, the fort was disguised pretty well, built as it was in the marshes of Woodland Sea, the swampy area around the many streams of lazy Aldo’s armlets. PROJECT hoped that their enemies had not yet noticed the presence of an outpost behind their lines.
“No inn? Should we break camp once again?”
“I said we’ll build it by the gates. Aren’t you listening to me at all?”
“Wait, Nestor,” the elf said, and froze, as if receiving a telepathic message. “Tao’s writing...”
“You’ll have to wait here a bit longer,” said Svoy, a minute later. “Alarm! I need to head out on an intercept mission. I’ll wake the team!”
Soon after, five flying mounts dived out from the dust cloud on the outpost’s central square. They moved in coordinated formation, wing to wing, swooshing through the air.
Svoy looked at his squad, content. Like all PROJECT HELL groups, his party was assembled from different archetypes that complemented each other. A cleric, a fighter, a mage, and a thief—old-school:
Tasmith. The black-haired beauty was a healer and a debuffer with a rare Black Healer archetype. Despite her bitchiness, she was a disciplined and almost irreplaceable team member.
Seeker was a geek and fan of weird books, who sometimes talked utter nonsense, but one could hardly find a better scout, ranger, and trap disarmer.
Eyrin, a strange quiet girl, whose face was always hidden under a blue cowl with gold embroidery, was an expert in Air magic. Her spells could bring down even the strongest of enemies.
Ravenling was a slender young man, whose long black hair covered half his face, making his gender hard to identify; he had specifically created the character to have an ambiguous look. What mattered, however, were his skills: he was a minstrel, a cipher, and a great shot.
As for Svoy, an engineer in real life, and assistant professor who taught at a university, he was a fighter. A Weapon Master and Stalward Leader, he was one PROJECT’s best swordsmen. Under his clothes, on his neck, the elf wore a green metal amulet, cold to the touch—Dorten’s Swordhammer. On top of weapon mastery, Svoy was actively leveling up another skill branch. Recently, he had become a dark priest, a servant of the God of Darkness.
* * *
“Somebody’s detected our Disguise!” Alex said. “They’re closer than I thought! Hurry up, Cat, we need to flee!”
“How close could they be?” I asked.
“The range of this kind of recon spell is fifty leagues. Still, to determine our precise coordinates, a scout will have to focus the search ray down to a league. But for a skilled scout with perfect-level skills it’s a matter of a few minutes!
“Fine. I have an idea about direction. Let’s head south toward the Order.”
“The Order?” Alex whistled, looking at me. “It will be hard to cross Aldo, part of the Steppe, and Wild Lands. Those places are dangerous.”
“Do we have a choice?” I argued. “Surrender to the PROJECT? I have a letter for the Magister of the Order, the sword quest.”
“Well, the Order is essentially a kingdom, albeit a small one,” AlexOrder said, nodding. “I guess we could hide there, at least, for a while.”
“Are you talking about the Order of the Lily on the Sword?” Endved asked, approaching. “The Order are friends and allies of the Eyre Nation. The Magister will help me. It’s a good idea!”
“All right. Mount the birdie. We don’t have much time!”
Once again, the roc carried us above the vast expanse. Like the day before, Alex flew low, just above the treetops, trying to blend into the horizon. Below, forests changed into fields, while to the left, I saw water: there, Aldo, a wide winding tributary of Rune, the mother of all Dorsian rivers, was slowly carrying its waters to the confluence point.
While I had time, I opened the Big Atlas of AlexOrder, selected the map of the continent, adjusted it to scale, and sent it to the screen. I had to find the best escape route.
Currently, we were to the west of Aldo, about two hundred leagues to the south-west of Dan-na-Eyre. To the south, thick woods covering the ground gradually receded, giving way to a thin forest. There, one could feel the influence of the Great Steppe, the Wild Field—the
vast wilderness taking up the entire south of the continent. I saw small areas belonging to factions, like islands in an ocean. The closest one was the territory of the Order, a tiny NPC-owned domain consisting of a single fortress and a piece of land around it. Their stronghold, however, wasn’t a piece of cake to invade. I zoomed in (Alex added clickable images to his map): multilevel red walls, swallowtail-shaped battlements, sturdy round towers... It was a serious fortification that reminded me of medieval Templar castles. It was at least rank four and had a dome, a lord ruler, and an NPC garrison, several thousand strong. Even the PROJECT would be hard pressed to storm it. I marked the local respawn points on the map. Surprisingly, they were fifty leagues away from each other, which was quite a distance. The first revival circle inside the wild lands was to the south of the border. After marking the map and drawing a rough outline of our route, I sent a screenshot to Alex, simultaneously telling him my plan.
“That’s an odd plan,” he chuckled in reply. “Unexpected. It might work. The only thing is...”
“What?”
“Look at Dorsa’s kill rating for the past few days, this exact area. I don’t like these parts!”
I opened the kill rating of Sphere, filtering out the world, the continents, and the area. Alex was right to be fearful: one hundred and seventy-three kills had been made around these parts over the past twenty-four hours. That was a lot. The scoreboard had a complex blend of clans, nicknames, and alliances, I couldn’t make sense of it. I looked at the kill rating of the top three players in the ranking: all of them PKers with a super negative karma. Notorious criminals who couldn’t even enter NPC kingdoms.
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