"Taisha," I said quietly, calling my NPC girlfriend over. The green-skinned girl gave an abrupt shudder, opening her eyes. "I saw that you were gathering objects left over from the undying on the deck of the trireme. Among them were empty vials of used elixirs, and some were even full. Can you show me your loot?"
Successful check for Taisha's reaction
Experience received: 40 Exp.
The goblin girl untied her bag and poured out ten various vials onto the bed. Elixirs of Agility and Eagle's Sight, empty vials of something used. But then I saw the one I was looking for — a carved red glass container with a wreath-like pattern. Based on the label, it had once contained an Elixir of Resist Fire. Taisha gave it to me unquestioningly, watching with interest as I filled the vessel.
Then, on the shelf among the other different cosmetics, there appeared a bright red one that immediately caught the eye with its unusual shape and intriguing label: "Gift to the First Lady in Waiting." The cork wasn't fully in, and the cream didn't fill the container — that was so it would look used. For Angelica Wayward, the jar would be shown as someone else's property. The dryad would surely notice the object, but would she stoop to testing the contents of the brightly colored vessel on herself? Hard to say. Although, her infamous feminine curiosity just might make her. What could I say? The only person to blame for possible side effects would be her.
Alright, done deal. The time had come to give instructions to the crew and leave White Shark.
* * *
Charisma check failed!
"Thirty coins from each and every passenger! Also, no critters allowed in the train!" the dwarven guard declared in an indisputable tone, looking over our soaked-through outfits with clear suspicion. All my attempts to negotiate or argue led to nothing.
I had already decided that there must have been a programmed-in script forbidding the price for tickets from being lowered, and started counting out two hundred forty coins for the squat stubborn man (myself, Valerianna, Taisha, Yunna, Irek, Darius, Darina, and Gnum Spiteful), but the dwarf mechanic stopped me and asked everyone to leave so he could talk privately with his countryman. They spoke for five minutes, after which Gnum Spiteful called me over and explained the new conditions:
"One hundred coins and we'll be given two carts with seats, plus grub for breakfast and lunch. The carts have windows, but they ask us not to open them. The ceilings are very low. It would never fit people or orcs. But goblins, a mavka and human children are no problem. For the wolves, they'll attach an enclosed freight car, usually used for purified silver ore, but no one will feed them. The most they can do is give them water. And now the most important part — at seven thirty this evening, the train will arrive at the Dar-Tu Switch-Room station. It's something like a suburb of our subterranean capital, Dotur-Khawe — 'Miner's Dream' in human language. And there, right before the station, even before the platform begins, we'll have to jump out of the car and quietly run before the station guards see us. All the documents on board will say these cars are empty so, if we're found, it could lead to trouble."
I was more than fine with that, especially given the fact that we wouldn't have formal tickets drawn up. Travelling like that with the blinds closed, we would be impossible to track. I counted out one hundred of the seven-sided game coins for the dwarf guardsman, and the wee bearded man instantly mellowed out, promising to bring us breakfast as soon as the train got underway.
"Amra, I'm going to bed!" the wood nymph told me as soon as she took her seat.
My eyelids were also sagging heavily, but I was waiting for us to leave. First, the dwarves attached a strange-looking long and low fired-up steam engine to the wagon train, then three more platforms of compressed peat to keep the fire going in the furnaces. After that was over, I rushed to close the doors so I wouldn't choke on the acrid wisps of black smoke pouring out of the low rectangular smokestack. Our train started moving and picking up speed centimeter by centimeter. I already knew that there would be no stops midway, and that all the subterranean villages we'd see on our path would be passed by the speeding train without reducing speed. It was impossible to see anything in the dark, identical tunnels, so I followed my sister's example, leaving Boundless Realm.
As soon as I crawled out of the virtual reality capsule and pulled on my clothes with my arms shaking in weariness, I got a call on my cell phone, which was lying on the table. The name Kira was shown on the screen.
"Timothy, we need to have a very serious conversation. Why did you hide the fact that you're taking care of your disabled sister?!"
Kira's voice was full of dissatisfied, cold detachment. I'd heard these words and emotions in the voice of girlfriends many times before, and I understood perfectly how the conversation would end. My legless disabled sister was guaranteed to scare any girlfriend away. Most of my relationships immediately fell apart when my pretty young things found out about Val's existence. And now it was Kira's turn... I sighed heavily and pursed my lips in vexation until they crackled. Without waiting to hear the heavy, irreversible words of my girlfriend, I first hurried to lay out my priorities:
"Kira, let me tell you everything myself, so you won't have to worry, feel awkward or look for justifications. To me, Valeria is the nearest and dearest person on the planet, and I would not leave my sister for anything! No one could ever make me refuse my beloved sister. Not mere pretty girls, and not even you! So, don't say anything. I already know everything you want to say to me. Sure, I'm a lousy creep, a fraudster and an asshole. You wish we’d never met, and so on. I won't argue. That's all well and good. Don't worry about the apartment — we don't have many things. We can be out of it today..."
"Oh, shut up!" Kira interrupted me, her voice raised to a shout. "You're such an idiot, Timothy! Have I ever given you reason to believe I'm such a nasty, self-involved egotist? Then why do you think so poorly of me?! Yes, after talking with Valeria, I got very angry at you, but for a different reason! Your little sister has a rare talent and is very independent for her age. She has figured out some specifically female problems all on her own by looking them up on the internet. But all the same, when talking with Valeria, I was horrified to discover some frightening gaps in her knowledge of elementary every-day topics. Your sister doesn't use cosmetics and doesn't even know why girls need scrubs and masks. For the last two years, her hair has gotten so bad it might as well belong to an old lady. Based on what I can see, she hasn't even visited an elementary stylist."
"What do you mean?!" I objected. "A lady who lived on the same floor as us had a lot of experience — she worked forty years in a salon until she was forced into retirement. Now, she earns money cutting neighbors' hair at a very reasonable price. It might be simple, but my sister and I simply didn't have the money to visit a better place."
"Timothy, your sister's hair was just abhorrent! Perhaps these cuts may have been in fashion half a century ago, but girls now wear completely different styles. Also, Valeria doesn't have normal woman's underwear, or any party dresses. All her clothes are old children's things she long since grew out of. And that's to say nothing of the fact that your sister doesn't even have her own razor or a single bra! And her breasts are growing... but this is for us girls. Valeria shared her problems with me as a secret, saying you didn't need to know. I believe you were trying to help your sister as best you could, but it clearly wasn't enough. She badly needed an older girlfriend to give her tips and advice, and who at least had some understanding of modern fashion."
I was not prepared for that reaction from Kira, or these topics, so I arrived to a state of utter shame. Yes, I truly had no idea of my sister's difficulties, or the questions eating her away inside, because Val didn't share her problems with me. Squeezing out justifications and gratefulness, I wanted to hang up, but Kira was in no mood to end the conversation:
"Basically, Timothy, it's like this: as soon as your sister wakes up, I'm going to take her on a big shopping outing. I'll work for her as a consultant and will help her choo
se stylish new outfits. Otherwise, I'm afraid Valeria will pick out old kid's stuff, like what she’s used to. I'll bring you a detailed receipt — you can pay me back when you have the chance, no rush. Get to creating your next video clip now, and upload it as fast as you can."
"Why now?" I didn't understand. "I'll make it and upload by evening, like usual."
"No, Timothy, you'll do it now. This evening, no one will even be interested. The problem is the first information on the sea battle has already leaked onto the Boundless Realm forum, and there's a ton of activity and people watching the topic. What's more, knowing our corporate overlords, I can confidently say that they won't miss the chance to show such an impressive moment of gameplay, and that in the next few minutes, a glistening video report on the first battle between the pursuers and the owner of the wyvern amulet will be put up. So, you need to be sure to upload your video report first — that will significantly raise your visibility as a player and your value to the corporation."
Senior Tester
UNDERSTANDING the importance of the work, I did my very best. Thankfully, I had more than enough quality footage. The forty-minute video about my career as a pirate came out stuffed to the brim with action and battles.
The duel on the beach with the ghastly orc captain and rougarou shapeshifter. The night capture of the "trader's" galley in the bay. The liberation of the slaves chained to their oars and the short ritual of accepting the former captives as pirates, finishing with them all being branded on the right shoulder with red-hot iron, giving them all a skull and anchor symbol. Buying provisions and weapons. Leaving the bay of the Island of the Wanton Widow in the nasty gale. The shaman getting raving drunk, opening a bottle of rum with shaking hands and blessing the sailors. The raging sea, blasting waves of water onto the deck, the sharp cliffs and the wisps of saltwater. Installing the catapult, preparing the bombs. The sacrifice ritual, the rough sea battle and the capture of the flaming trireme. The bound kneeling undying, the horribly burnt executioner with chipped poleax and bloodied chopping block. My emerald-hued beauty the wyvern with the bronze amulet around her neck and the extreme scene depicting the elven bowwoman’s execution. The happy Taisha wearing the captain's tricorn on her head, erotically pumping her thighs and posing for me on the backdrop of the rigging to great effect, the rope ladders, sails and catapults. Ghastly grinning pirate cutthroats and gold coins pouring like a river into the captain's chest.
I spent two and a half hours making it, but without any exaggeration, I can say it was the most successful video I'd ever made. Either the material really was that high quality and interesting, or it was just evidence of my increased experience in creating and narrating video clips, but I simply outdid myself. It was as atmospheric as could be, pulled you in and attracted the eye. The pirate life was revealed in all its colors — sea, storm, ships, drink, fighting, gold and happy beauties.
Already about to leave my work cabin, I checked my mailbox. Mainly, it was just more useless spam piling up. But two messages from TOP clans caught my eye. The first was from a player named Andrzej Envoy [MERCS] a human gladiator of a simply unbelievable level: two hundred ten.
"Amra, our clan has just received a firm contract to help you. It's already paid, so no worries. Just present this letter at any branch of the bank of gremlins or dwarves, and the employees will give you a magical summoning scroll. Activate the scroll in case of misfortune, and at any time of day, a coordinated team of twenty warriors over level 160 will instantly come to your aid.
P.S. The reputation of our clan is worth much more than your winged beast, so don't worry about losing your wyvern — we won’t be stabbing you in the back.
P.P.S. In the terms of the contract, it was written explicitly that we were not to reveal the name of our client. So, I ask you not to request this information from my soldiers — they'll never tell you. The penalty for breaking the secret is just too serious.
P.P.P.S. Making use of the occasion, I invite you to join our clan. We don't suffer fools. Our biggest value is keeping one's word. In one week, we could level your goblin and all your pets to over 100. Give it some thought and tell my guys. We'll send out a division right away to escort you to a safe place.
Andrzej Envoy, clan treasurer [MERCS]"
I'd heard of this clan of mercenaries before — they weren’t very numerous, and had just one castle. They positioned themselves as a community of disciplined professional high-level warriors, earning their keep with the blade. The services of the "mercs" were very, very expensive, but it was a surefire way of scaring off presumptuous neighbors or changing the course of a bad war.
Who that I know could ever afford a division of twenty mercenaries over level 160? The most obvious option was Kira. But the contract with the MERCS had been signed about an hour ago, and I knew the red-headed beauty hadn’t been playing. Also, Kira had spent the whole previous night and morning in the apartment with my sister without the ability to enter Boundless Realm. What was more, Kira played a very specific character, which made her cautious to the point of paranoia, so she'd never advertise the fact that the queen of the harpies was somehow tied to the far-off little goblin.
Who else? Max Sochnier wouldn't have had the money. Leon all the more so. Truth be told, Veronica must have had plenty of cash. I thought that option over seriously. Perhaps this was all part of the Dryad Dancer's guileful plan to eliminate my big-eared Amra. But as for the reputation of the MERCS clan, their treasurer hadn't been lying. It was flawless. It could be no other way in their complicated line of work: the smallest black mark on the clan's reputation and it would lose all clients forever. So, the option of Veronica didn't make sense either. Then who was helping me? I got lost in guesses.
The second message was from a person I'd heard from before, a member of the strongest clan in the game, Legion of Steel:
"It brings me joy to see that you heard our warning, and that you managed to slip out of the trap on the Island of the Wanton Widow. I was also glad to see that you accepted our offer and said the watchword. We're preparing a shelter for you, and it's going to be sturdy enough to withstand an attack for seven days, even if all the clans of Boundless Realm take part. For now, keep fleeing. I hope this letter also provides you with valuable information.
Know that nearly all the TOP clans are now sending military divisions to the ports of the Brotherhood of the Coast after you. They'll be everywhere. But above all else, in New Tortuga — the nearest harbor where you could repair your ships. I hope you have enough sense not to show your face there.
Also, take this into account. One of your closest companions is leaking information about the movements of your character. There’s simply no other explanation for the surprising familiarity of the Firstborn and Warlords clans about the precise location of your ship at the end of the night. It is no mere coincidence. These clans were never among the TOP, and never demonstrated an ability to track a situation as it develops with such accuracy.
So, the espionage and bribery is evident. Our analysts are 85% sure that the spy in your circle is a character by the name of Valerianna Quickfoot. There are many reasons for that guess, but first and foremost is that she's abnormally strong for a level-37 Beastmaster. A person who's only been playing for ten days should simply physically not have enough mana to do a double mirror image, but Valerianna Quickfoot has demonstrated that trick on a number of occasions. The most obvious explanation is that she has some rare equipment, or even a set, which she should never have had either the ability or finances to obtain. This is apparently from either an extreme donation, or money received for espionage. Check her.
Alexander the Great3st. Human. Level-230 Priest of the Sun [LEGION]"
I had complete faith in my sister, and didn't believe for a second that she might have been a traitor — no amount of money could have made my sister betray me, just as I could never her. Despite all their experience, the Legion of Steel's analysts just had to be wrong. First of all, they didn't consider the fact
that Valerianna Quickfoot was my sister. Second, Valeria had lived half of her conscious life in computer games, which had come to almost fully replace her bleak reality. My paralyzed sister didn't just play a video game, she became a fully-fledged resident of a digital world. Analyzing all the subtle factors of the game mechanics, thinking carefully through development strategies and creating surprisingly strong characters was always her strong suit. I'd have to show the message to my sister — Val was sure to be flattered by such a high evaluation of her abilities from the leading players of Boundless Realm.
After turning off the game message client, I just turned off the monitor and started off home. I emerged from my work cabin into the common corridor and stopped, amazed at the huge crowd of people. I had grown accustomed to emptiness and quiet on the tester floor. But now, gathered along the railings of this and the opposite long elevated walkways, there were no less than a few hundred people. I never even suspected I had this many work colleagues. But what were they all doing standing around in the corridor, and not at work? Maybe something had happened? Like, a patch roll-out or a game server reset? I got out my cellphone and activated the screen to see the time. It was eight fifty-nine in the morning. Just then, the numbers on the screen flipped over to precisely nine AM.
And at that exact moment, a little melody or timer signal started playing from many of their phones. The testers started walking toward to their work cabins, and a minute later, it was as empty as usual. Only a few people remained, hurriedly drinking their coffee and preparing for the work day. For some reason, a fit of laughter came over me. I could hardly believe all these people played on a strict schedule — enter Boundless Realm at nine, go out for lunch from noon to one, then finish out the work day and head home?
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