Dukes and Ladders: A LitRPG/Gamelit Adventure (The Good Guys Book 5)

by Eric Ugland

  We needed walls.

  There was a massive wall there already, in a sense, because we had a fucking mountain range behind us. But was there a way to use it other than a barrier between us and the Empire?

  I thought back to the games I’d played, the base-building I’d done. I always liked to dig into places. Could we just build into the mountains, like dwarves? I mean, there were dwarves living amongst us — maybe this was something they could help us with. But the reality of living in tunnels carved out of rock with no windows? That was less desirable than in a game. It seemed oppressive. And it meant leaving all of our craftspeople outside the protection of our rock-mountain-home thing. Unless, of course, we brought all of them inside as well. But I knew I didn’t want to live under a mountain full-time, and I had to imagine that was a similar feeling for the others. Digging a home out of the rock just wasn’t a wise long-term move.

  But we still needed walls. And a castle. It made sense to have a castle. The castle was the hub of the medieval city and the medieval world. If I remembered my medieval history correctly, which was probably not the case, the castle also served as a projection of power for the region. A symbol of strength. A big sign that said: fuck-off, assholes. We could all live in the castle until we got homes built. But, then again, thinking back to my medieval history, I seemed to recall castles were the work of huge teams of people over multiple years. I didn’t think we had that long.

  I sat there, buffeted by the wind, and thought while I watched the valley sleep below me.

  “Quite an interesting corner of the world you have chosen,” came a posh voice at my side.

  I looked over and nodded at Mister Paul sitting there. It said something that Gods intruding on my life was no longer that startling.

  “Seems nice enough,” I replied. “And welcome to my dukedom, Mister Paul.”

  “Thank you,” he said, a slight bow of his head and wide smile across his face. “Good fishing?”

  “You know, I have yet to check that out. I have seen some big fish in the river, just haven’t had the chance to toss a line in.”

  “And the lakes?”

  “Lakes? I knew there was one, but—”

  “I believe there are three,” he said. He squinted for a minute, almost like he was looking at something far off. “Four. And a half, let us say.”

  “Oh, well, I guess chances are good there’s some decent fishing somewhere.”

  “Plenty to catch out there.”

  “I bet.”

  I kicked my legs against the rock, like I was a little kid in a too-big chair.

  “Before I get to the main reason why I am here, I must preface it with a sprinkling of praise and a dash of pleasant surprise. I think we both know very little was expected from you, dear Montana—”

  “I’m not sure—” I tried to interrupt, but he kept going.

  “And your impact on the, well, proceedings, was mostly a surprise to me. I had been engaged with — well, it matters not. But I had lost track of the time completely, and you were an, I hesitate to use the term ‘afterthought’ since it has such negative connotations, but let us be honest for a moment. You were an afterthought. By some stroke of luck, there you were in a perfect position for me to pluck you up and pop you in here. And in the spirit of full honesty, I was not planning on watching you past that little trip down the mountain, which went so much better than I could have possibly anticipated. Just the most entertaining little slide. And your face, when you did not quite make the leap? priceless.”

  “Wait—“

  “In any case, you soldiered on admirably, not only becoming the brute you are today, — which, to be fair, you look just fabulous lately, though please find a tailor and a barber because this wildman wearing ill-fitting clothes is only going to fly for so long — but also becoming, dare I say it, a hero? You might very well be one, and that is, well, surprising is the least I can say about the matter. Especially considering our initial discussion vis-a-vis your desire to eschew things like heroics in your search for a solitary life fishing in a mountain lake.”

  “I’m very confused.”

  “I understand, and I sympathize, but I cannot say more, unfortunately. You will just have to peek around the details to discern what truth you can. But I am here now to offer you some guidance. Or criticism. Perhaps. The line between the two can be so fuzzy. There is no simple way to say any of what it is I am trying to say. But you have been, well, there have been complaints.”

  “Excuse me? You were just saying how impressed and surprised you were with me.”

  “I was impressed. I have no complaints. Not really. And I have also been surprised, but your recent efforts have been… less than well received.”

  “By who?”

  “Whom.”

  “That’s what I’m asking.”

  “Right. Well, as I told you, there are others involved in your progress. Your story, as it were.”

  “They’re watching me?”

  He snapped his fingers, then said, “This happens every time we speak! I forget that I have had to remove some of our past conversations from your memory. Let me say little more on the topic except for, perhaps, a nudge.”

  “A nudge?”

  “In a better direction.”

  “What’s that direction?”

  “Towards being a better leader. You are quite shit at leading right now.”

  “I could’ve told you that.”

  “Yes, but now I am telling you that.”

  “How do I do that? I mean, can you give me a boon or something to help me with that?”

  “Have you something to trade? Have you done some great service for me?”

  “I mean, isn’t everything I do somehow in service to you?”

  “Yes, but that is in a different way. That trade has already been completed.”

  I looked at what I had. Which, you know, wasn’t nothing, I had my bag of holding and all the crap I’d taken from the wyrm matriarch, including her skin. A lot of skin.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got a real hankering for wyrm skin.”

  “I do not.”

  I picked up a rock. I thought about throwing it, but realized all my friends were down below and a rock falling from this height might be, well, unpleasant. I set it back down.

  “Some free advice then?” I asked.

  “Advice is a more nebulous sort of term. Advice for a leader? There are countless experts who do little else but think about how to advise leaders.”

  “There really isn’t a worse person you could have chosen for this.”

  “I disagree. I imagine there are plenty. You have a single quality that makes you great—”

  “I don’t want to be a leader.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What? No, I’m saying—”

  “I choose to ignore what you are currently saying. Whether you like it or want it, you have been tasked with leading these people, and you have accepted that responsibility. Now, while it might be entertaining for me to watch you run away from your responsibilities, I cannot imagine it will be particularly good, long term. For either of us. And for better or worse, we have managed to tie ourselves together, so I fear we must look at the long term.”

  “Okay, then help me.”

  “My dear boy, why do you think I am here?”

  “Shits and giggles?”

  “Well, those too. But also to provide you assistance in this, your time of need. The problem is, you need to ask the right questions.”

  “What should I build?”

  “For your little village?”

  “Yes.”

  Mister Paul crossed his legs and put one perfectly manicured hand up to his mouth. Then he peered down at the village. He looked to the east and the west, tapping his chin.

  “It is indeed a conundrum. You have yet to explore your dukedom, which means you know little of the dangers you face from without—”

  “There are the dark goblins.”

 
“A stupid name for a vile creation.”

  “You know about them?”

  “I know of them. Not overly so; I am not a scholar of the goblinoid. But I can tell you a few things.”

  “Provided I ask the right question.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Should I worry about them?”

  “Oh yes. Very much so.”

  “Are there, uh, are there other creatures out there?”

  “Many. Probably more than even I know of at the moment.”

  “Ones that I should be concerned about?”

  “Define out there?”

  “In, uh, this valley.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Dangerous ones?”

  “What did you mean by concern if not these creatures being dangerous?”

  “Yeah, I was just, uh, trying to get more information.”

  “Word your questions better.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Your village must withstand attacks from all sides. They will be coming.”

  “They?”

  “Attacks. Attacks will be coming.”

  “From the Empire?”

  “Surely. You think Valamir will leave you be? Setting aside the fact you have already interfered with his carefully laid plans, you are currently an unknown quantity, and if you do not support his claim to the throne, he will attempt to destroy you. If you support his claim to the throne, he will unland you and destroy you after he has taken the throne.”

  “You know this?”

  “I know nothing. It is just what is very likely to pass.”

  “So defense is important.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Walls then.”

  “Walls are not the only means to defense. Did you ever study history?”

  “I don’t know that I’d use the word study.”

  “What word might you use, then?”

  “I mean, I took history classes, but I mostly just flirted with chicks and drew, like, I don’t know, demons and stuff.”

  “You were an artist?”

  “Let’s not go that far.”

  He smiled at me. “Had you studied history, I imagine you would have more ideas of how you might proceed. There have been a few gifts for you, nothing along the lines of history, unfortunately.”

  “Gifts?”

  “Yes.”

  He seemed to pull something out of the air with a flick of his wrist, and he handed me a fishing pole.

  “A fishing pole?” I asked.

  “It is!” A big grin spread across his thin face. “And yet it is so much more.”

  “Does it slice and dice?”

  “No, but the reel has an endless supply of monofilament.”

  “What’s the pound test?”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “Yes. It’s like, a rating of how strong the line is.”

  “Oh. Might I have it back a moment?”

  “Did you make it unbreakable?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Do you have something to trade for me to give it back to you for a moment?”

  “You are learning.”

  “Had to at some point.”

  Paul nodded approvingly. “What is it you would care for?”

  “Two things.”

  “Two?”

  “One is pretty minor.”

  “I will be the judge of that.”

  “A cold can of Faygo root beer.”

  He looked into the darkness for a moment, then nodded. “Minor enough. Second?”

  “A book on history that will help me understand how to defend us.”

  Another nod. “Yes. I agree to this.”

  I handed the fishing pole to him, and he gave me a book and a 24 oz bottle of Faygo root beer, ice cold.

  I slid the book under my butt, unscrewed the bottle cap, and took in a huge mouthful of pop.

  It was glorious. Sure, it came out the sides of my mouth and the bubbles went up my nose, but it was a moment of perfection.

  “Fishing rod,” Mister Paul said.

  “You fixed the line.”

  “That I did. The line is roughly proportional to your strength, it would be unseemly for you to break the line purely because you pulled too hard.”

  “So it’s unbreakable?”

  “Not sure I would term it that way. Now, there is also this ring.”

  He held out a thick gold ring.

  “Is that the one ring?” I asked.

  “What one ring?”

  “The ring to rule them all?”

  “No.”

  I sent my little identification spell its way.

  Ring of Questions Answered

  Item Type: Epic

  Item Class: Ring

  Material: Gold

  Durability: High

  Weight: .08 lbs

  Requirements: n/a

  Description: The ring of questions answered will highlight the lost.

  “It’s rather vague,” I said.

  “The best magic always is,” Mister Paul replied, dropping the ring and forcing me to scramble to snatch it from the air. “And speaking of magic, I have a last-minute device I think you will be most excited by.”

  “Great. Hit me with it.”

  He did a little flourish with his hand, and a small pendant dropped down on the end of a chain. It was a sculpture of a small creature.

  “What is this?” I asked, taking the chain.

  “A little something to help you.”

  I cast identification on the chain and pendant.

  Pendant of Assistance

  Item Type: Epic

  Item Class: Chain

  Material: Tungsten and Wildwood

  Durability: High

  Weight: .08 lbs

  Requirements: n/a

  Description: The pendant allows the summoning of Prinkies. Each Prinky survives off the mana it drains from you, and requires five mana to survive.

  “Yeah,” I said, “this is one of the weirder things I’ve found here.”

  I looked back over at Mister Paul.

  “Yes, well, I thought you would like it,” he huffed, almost upset that I was questioning his gift.

  “What is a Prinky?”

  “It is a creature, not quite as dumb as they initially seem, but able to assist you in, well, let’s be honest, simple tasks.”

  “Oh, like golems.”

  “Sure, you could certainly think that at first,” he said quickly. “I wanted to make sure you had a little something to assist your quest to find cute things to entertain your viewers.”

  “Viewers?”

  “Ignore that.”

  “Is this like that time you told me to get a kitsune-girl—”

  “And get her you did. Well, get her is incorrect. There was, perhaps, a little massaging of some record books to insure her contract was available to purchase, but all that for nothing as you seem to ignore her. That does nothing to entice your audience. They want romance and heaving bosoms.”

  “Hey, wait—”

  “Unfortunately, waiting is not an activity I might engage in. Time stops for no one, certainly not me.”

  “You’re saying a whole lot and I’m having trouble keeping track of any of it. Maybe you could spell it out for me? Just once.”

  “That is a very enticing offer, but sadly not fun nor legal, so I shan’t be doing that. Which is a shame indeed because you do have quite the ordeal coming.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Opponents are massing all around you.”

  “They are?”

  “Oh yes, I thought we spoke about this. Valamir to the south, Mahrduhm to the East, the dark goblins to the west, and the mystery dark horse challengers coming from the north, east, and, well, down.”

  “Down?”

  “Well, I hardly think anything is coming from above quite yet, but you never know.”

  “You mentioned Valamir, and I asked about the goblins, but—”

  “Well th
en, dear boy, it would seem you’ve even more to do than we thought. Best get to work. Go build your little village.”

  You have been offered a quest by Mister Paul:

  Build Your Village 1

  Build a wall or defensive structure around your village

  Reward for success: XP, and a follower

  Penalty for failure (or refusal): unknown

  Yes/No

  I looked over it, a little confused.

  “A follower—” I started to ask, but Mister Paul held up a hand.

  “Also,” he said, “explore the valley before too long.”

  You have been offered a quest by Mister Paul:

  Get to know your neighborhood

  Explore your valley. Reach all the corners, the center, and the various bits and bobs in between until you know the land you’ve claimed as yours. At least the non-mountain stuff.

  Reward for success: XP and unknown

  Penalty for failure (or refusal): unknown

  Yes/No

  “Might regret it if you leave it until last,” Mister Paul finished ominously.

  “Wait—“

  “Ta-ta,” he said, and he slipped off the ledge, and walked through the air until he disappeared.

  Chapter Seven

  I sat in the cold, looking at the camp down below, watching Ragnar and Skeld move about the place. I read over the quests one more time and accepted them. It seemed like the smart thing to do. Frankly, it seemed like the only thing to do. I mean, besides the other something I could be doing: sipping root beer and reading.

  A neat thing about life in Vuldranni, with darkvision, reading a book at night was as easy as reading it in the day. Maybe even easier. The increased contrast of the black and white in my darkvisioned eyes made the pages nearly glow. The book I’d been given was on Roman construction techniques and architecture, with a focus on the military side of things. Maybe because I was smarter than I’d been in the past, I didn’t get bored reading the book, and I felt like I was keeping more of it in my head. According to the book, the Romans would build a modified version of their camp fort every night at the end of their march. It certainly seemed that I needed to be treating my little town more like a military encampment. Mister Paul had been vague about what we’d be facing, but I had no doubt we needed to be ready.