by G. Akella
"Why not Masyanya, then?"
"Don't rub it in, man," the huntress grumbled, though her eyes were calm and clear.
Oh, snap! She must have been preparing all day to spill the news, playing out the different scenarios in her mind. And indeed, this wasn't something she would be able to keep secret for long. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head.
"Here's what we'll do," I said, looking around at everyone. "If tomorrow Max says that he doesn't need you with him, then fine, you can come with."
"There's another issue," said Bonbon, surprisingly sober given the time of day, in the silence that fell over the table. "In fact, it's really a gross violation of the established order of things..."
"What are you talking about?" Donut added a surprised voice into what was shaping up to be the start of another performance.
"You really don't know?" the bald man peered contemplatively into the cognac in his glass, then over at Reece. "We have a d'Artagnan, but not the other three?!"
"What do you propose?" the rogue inquired, barely holding back a smile.
"Isn't it obvious?" Bonbon sighed. "There are three of us, right? I'll be Athos, you'll be Porthos, and I don't need to tell you who Masyanya will be."
"And why am I Porthos, pray tell?"
"I don't know, it's funnier that way," the warrior downed his cognac, grimaced, sniffed his sleeve, and continued. "You're on the small side, sure. Our commander would make a better Porthos, but, alas, he's without a mustache. And what kind of Porthos doesn't have a mustache?!"
"I don't have a mustache!"
"So you'll grow one! What is the problem?!"
"Are you seriously trying to reason with this addict?" Masyanya broke down at last. "He's still sober! And he'll go on ranting and raving for as long as that's the case!"
"Hush, Aramis, or I'll have you growing a mustache instead," Bonbon furrowed his brow in the most dramatic of ways, then looked back at me. "You see the kind of ignorance I'm forced to put up with every day, commander?"
"Oh, I completely forgot to tell you, Roman," stopping Bonbon with a gesture, Donut produced from his bag a sheet of paper with tables, and laid it out. "Teiran dropped a tank helm and a hunter ring. I awarded the helms to our warriors, and the ring to Masyanya. Everything else—the epics, rares, and money, I—"
"Stop!" I put up my hand, palm forward. "You were assigned this role, so you handle it. And don't bother me with any of it, all right? Did you think I gave you all the stuff we'd amassed for safekeeping? Start distributing it among our guys, or trade with the Azure Dragons for whatever else we may need. Masyanya will handle the finances—she was the accountant for you guys, right? And if you need help carrying the weight, our resident clown otherwise known as Bonbon will help." I gestured toward Bonbon, and was about to continue, but froze the very next moment, open-mouthed.
Reece was singing. But his singing was unlike anything I had heard before. The way he played his guitar, it reminded me of old recordings of John Williams. And if someone like me, who had absolutely no ear for music, could immediately tell the difference... Everyone around the table had froze, afraid to move a muscle, and kept sitting there for a good twenty seconds after the last accords had ceased.
"Well, what do you think?" Wiping the sweat from his brow, the mage looked up at us, looking uncharacteristically bashful.
"When did you... Earlier today in the cave, I was ready to cut my ears off..." Vaessa whispered, astonished.
"In the very same cave, Mistress Liana had unlocked an additional profession for each of us, auntie," the mage smiled. "So while the lot of you were loafing about waiting for the prince, I went to her temple. The Mistress took kindly to my request, and awarded me a hidden profession. You and the prince can go and ask as well. Although, Krian probably shouldn't..." Reece turned to me, shaking his head. "He can't well sing odes of praise to himself at his own wedding, right?"
Yet again the Gascon proved that he was nobody's fool. Though with this move, he had guaranteed himself a lifetime of fielding campfire song requests.
I looked over at Raena. The girl was sitting in silence, watching the smiling mage with an expression of thoughtful curiosity. There was something else in her eyes, something that would make a betting man wager on a major shift in the relationship of these two.
"I think this calls for a celebration, eh?" the knight-commander turned to me, winked, and produced the familiar clay vessel from his bag.
"I'll pass," rising from my seat, I waved goodbye to my friends. "I'm tired, and it's shaping up to be a long day. You guys enjoy yourselves, though. Diana, Erika—we won't see each other tomorrow, so take care. Hope to meet again soon."
With a nod to Donut's sisters, I started toward the staircase.
You are in your private room. This is your private space...
Hart! Somewhere in the settings there was probably a box I could tick to prevent this stupid message from popping up every time I entered my private room. Probably... If only I weren't so lazy to look for it. When I have nothing else to do, I will definitely dig into my private room settings, sort out clan XP distribution, learn to play the guitar, and do a bunch of other stuff besides... In about a hundred years or so, at this rate.
I gave a longing look at the made bed, turned on the coffee machine, and headed for the shower. There was no point in going to bed—I wouldn't fall asleep anyway. With the System disclosing a new objective, I needed to mull over my next steps.
Coming out of the shower, I picked up my coffee, took a seat at the desk, and turned on the monitor. So, what did we have here? Two seemingly unconnected quests: Jaelitte's soul fragment and returning the clan chieftain's insignia to the son of Karrosh an Gort. The quest description said descendant, but somehow I was certain it was indeed his son. The red-haired elven maiden winked at me from the monitor screen before her visage was replaced by the map of the continent. I zoomed in and scrolled left, then scratched my cheek contemplatively. There wasn't a hint of Arkaetania anywhere on the map. Nothing in the chronicles, either. Some kind of dead duchy, likely some idiosyncrasy of a brand new world. Oh, the Hart with it, then. I took a sip from the cup, then pulled up the map of the Orcish Steppe.
Orcs... A race of warriors. Thirteen clans, of which twelve served the central Dragon Skull clan. Leading the race was Kha'an Rehan, the same orc who had held the reigns as far back as Velial's invasion. My wife's quest was taking me to Kargalar, the orcish capital. As for Returning the Insignia, the exact place for completing the quest wasn't indicated, but logic suggested that Karrosh's descendant would be in Melitar, the main city of the Bloody Spear clan, whose lands adjoined with the domain of Duke Daar. All this I already knew from my visions.
I rose from the chair to open the window, then climbed onto the windowsill, and lip up. The night's blackness was in full force, softened by the yellow molten candle of the moon and scatterings of stars twinkling in the Vaedarr sky. Despite the windows in my room opening into the back, toward the stables, the jubilant cries from the Square of Heroes were heard even here. The people were enjoying the jamboree.
Lamorna, Nittal, Xantarra, Craedia, Sarykas, Laketa... I had always been consumed by wanderlust, even if my travel style never kept me in any particular city for more than a few days. Moscow and San Francisco notwithstanding, as the only two cities I had called home. If only I knew then how tiresome all this travel could get... With a sigh, I cast a pensive gaze at the far porch of the stable where Gloom was sleeping merrily. The decision seemed to assert itself. The hell with this! I'm going to Kargalar first—to snuff out the orc who had tortured and killed my wife. It didn't matter that the Bloody Spear's capital was along the way. Once I rescued Lita, I'd slip her into the saddle in front of me, and the two of us would be happy to ride Gloom wherever, to deliver whatever, to whomever. Karrosh's forbear had been waiting for fifteen hundred years, so what was another week or two?
We would move toward the orcish lands through a baron acquaintance of mine—Laetan. The map clearly indicated that
it was within my power to build a portal there. We hadn't erred with the last such calculation, allowing the Ancient Paths to bring us precisely to Karn. Tyremian County, to which the baron was a vassal, shared a border with the orcs, with hardly more than three hundred miles from there to Kargalar. It would take us all of one week to get there. And with my 'respected' status with the orcish race, we shouldn't run into any problems.
I put my pipe into the ashtray, climbed off the windowsill, and returned to the desk. I had to come to terms with the fact that Donut was right—a meeting with Vill was in my near future, and there was no getting around that. Was I afraid? No. There was no sense in fearing the inevitable. I only wished I knew when this meeting would take place.
I reached into my bag, produced a scroll, and proceeded to study it.
Ahriman's Fiery Weakening.
Unique item. Scroll.
Duration: 90 minutes.
Effective range: 50 yards.
Effect: No creature in the Realm of Arkon can resist the magic of Alcmehn's Overlord. Your opponent suffers a 50% penalty to their health, attack speed, casting speed, movement speed and damage output.
Aim at your target and break the seal to use.
If I played my cards right, this scroll, coupled with the ring's newly revealed ability, would render the Cursed God a helpless chunk of meat for an hour and a half. The System erred sometimes, but it would be foolish to assume anyone could intentionally deceive it. I was one hundred percent certain that Hart had nothing to do with the situation, but that the System bestowing all these gifts upon me was effectively an antidote, a measure meant to compensate for the imbalance caused by the rampant cheating on behalf of Cheney and co. The shield enchantment and this scroll might not equalize our chances, but they would at least minimize Vill's advantages over me. I would still have a chance in this fight—the key was to not miss it.
The screen lit up with another backdrop. It would sure be nice to take a multi-clan alliance into the upcoming battle. But it wouldn't work. Humans and orcs hated one another, or were hostile, at the very least. And even though a party's reputation was technically measured by said party's leader, that hadn't helped with those soldiers at the port, all of whom were neutral to me. Same with Donut and his sisters—the soldiers had remembered all of the trio's past transgressions, and hadn't been willing to let bygones be bygones. The orcs would remember, too... Did I have the right to risk the lives of several thousand players? No, I do not.
I took a sip of coffee, which had cooled by now, and winked at the elven female staring at me from the screen before turning off the monitor and putting the scroll away. My audience with the king was tomorrow. Afterwards, I would meet with my sister and Max to finalize a plan, and set out for Laetan the following morning.
Getting up from the desk, I gave my shoulders a good stretch, then cast a dubious look at the made bed. I really should remember to play around with the room's settings... Later... At some point. At least I don't need to unmake the bed, if I'm too lazy to bother. I smiled at my own thoughts, then shut off the lights, stretched out on the bed, and instantly fell asleep.
For as long as I could remember, I detested waiting. Psychologists claimed that impatience stems from lack of confidence about the future. And for that reason, I also detested psychologists. Perhaps it was a cultural nuance. In America, seeking psychological treatment had long become a social norm, whereas for most Russians it would be akin to taking a dump in the middle of a train car, during rush hour, just as the train conductor announced a delay. They say that those who don't like to wait struggle with trusting others. But what bloody reason did I have to trust anyone? All intelligent creatures fell into three categories, both in this world and in the last one: friends, strangers, and enemies. Friends were worth dying for; strangers were of no concern unless they made themselves one; and enemies had to be destroyed. And if such measures were impossible in practice back on Earth, the Realm of Arkon was far more permissive. Now, if only there was a service to deliver your enemies right to your doorstep...
The audience had ended several hours ago. It was almost seven o'clock, but the guys had not yet returned from the Great Forest. Neither had Reece and Raena, who had left to explore the city this morning. The only ones here were Kan, Vaessa, and myself.
The audience had lasted more than three hours. Thankfully, Rayan I Erast and his immediate circle ended up being pretty solid people, so I didn't mind their company in the slightest. Now, sure, having to recount all my adventures from the very beginning for the umpteenth time was hardly my favorite way of spending an afternoon, but there was no escaping that. Besides, you never knew when the powers that be might recognize some seemingly unimportant detail from your story as one of grand significance—for the simple reason that the success of their jobs often depended on spotting and making use of those very details.
The general sentiment throughout the meeting was one of positive reinforcement, which manifested in another round of presents courtesy of the king. Kan, who had been dispatched on his campaign by the monarch's father, was issued some kind of treasury notes and a bunch of additional boons for the Order of the Red Flame. Vaessa was awarded a small yellowed bone, though, judging by her eyes and the fact that the bone was presented in a truesilver jewelry case resting on a velvet pillow, I surmised that the artifact was of considerable might. I didn't catch the name, and didn't bother asking about it afterward. She would tell me herself if she wanted to. The necromancer's daughter was full of mysteries—the skeletal archer from the tomb of the Forgotten Tomb was proof positive of that. Twenty million HP in the span of a few seconds was no joke, and if it hadn't been for Reece's curiosity, I probably wouldn't have found out that she had learned the spell by reading the grimoire recovered from Ahn Kulad. The only downsides were the twenty-four hour cooldown and having to physically touch the head of some corpse to activate the spell. This wasn't the kind of trick we could rely on to work against Vill, so we'd have to make do without it.
As for the envoy's badge, that ended up being a total fail. I had previously thought that I would need only to break it for a stationary portal to be established between Erantia and Alcmehn, but then the quest description had changed on our way here. And the System hadn't bothered to ask my opinion on the matter. Specifically, the portal between the two locations would indeed be brought into existence, only it would take at least one-and-a-half to two months to build. Apparently, the locals weren't nearly as proficient at building portals as the dwarves, who had managed the feat in a matter of days. Or maybe this particular job was of a more complicated variety. At any rate, I handed the medallion to Duke Karten and resolved not to give the matter another thought. The important part was that as soon the stationary portal was finished, my princedom would enter into a thousand-year-long peace with Erantia, which would see a whopping fifty percent reduction on trade tariffs for both sides. This was an incredible boon, and one I hadn't expected at all. And for anyone who doesn't see it as a big deal, I would strongly advise them to take Economics 101.
"Dar, you've asked me to remind you before the audience," Vaessa closed the book she'd been reading, put it on the table, and looked over at me.
I gazed at the cover, which depicted a maiden with a mighty knight towering behind her, chuckled to myself, then took the ring out of my bag and handed it to the magus.
"Whoa," Vaessa took the jewelry gingerly, studying it with great interest. "Where did you get it?"
"A gift from the one who had taken you out of Craedia..."
"Mord..." the woman squeezed the ring in her fist, doubt splashing in her eyes. "But didn't he die?"
"Mordred," I corrected her. "He may have left, but he remembers you, and he hopes that you haven't forgotten him."
"A companion to the god of thieves..." Vaessa whispered softly. Unclenching her fist, she gazed wistfully at the ring cradled in her palm, and added just as softly. "I've missed him terribly, and I'm happy to learn that he's not dead. I understand more
now... We've all got roles to play in this terrible production with an unknown finale. And once a role is played, the actor leaves the stage..."
"Well, not everyone leaves," I smiled, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "I'm still here. Kan, Reece, Gorm and Elias. All the rest of our people in the princedom. They're all still here. We've got nowhere else to go..."
"Let's hope," Vaessa smiled as she slipped the ring onto the middle finger of her left hand.
This had been an oversight on my part, no doubt. It had slipped my mind to give her the ring before entering the tomb of the Forgotten God, and I had only remembered about it after Teiran's death. I hadn't given it to her right away at the time because she was happy, and I couldn't predict her reaction, so I merely relayed the story about the encounter with the companion to the god of thieves to her and Reece, and shelved the gift-giving for later. Where the hell are those guys?! I fought to keep the worrying thoughts from surfacing. The mallorn trees were planted, and Alyona was with Max, so what could happen? They were probably just collecting their squad from all over the Wild Wood, bloody cats that they were. Having decided not to imbibe any firewater before Max's arrival to keep a clear head, I lit my pipe instead, and looked over at the knight-commander, who had been awfully quiet.
"Kan! Did you find out anything about the dungeon? The one we talked about on the way to Kirana's temple?"
The warrior wrested himself from his silent contemplation of the book resting on the table, and gave an absentminded nod.
"I did, but nothing that added much clarity."
Still sneaking bemused glances at the maiden on the book's cover, he scratched his head before continuing.
"According to the papers, this place isn't far from the castle of Baron Rayne, whom we both know." Kan moved the book aside carefully, spread a map out on the table, and fingered a spot in the area of Erantia's southeastern border. "This is where the duke's clibanarii met us, roughly twenty miles from Nahlle. And here's the old baron's castle where his father and Elsa had perished. The ruins stood on contested territory, but the land belongs to the barony now. The distance is only about twenty miles, give or take. I bet that Ulrich's people have already found this place, so we can drop by there tomorrow and get all the information we need."