Friday, November 13, 2015
Chapter 1. At the fringe of the Empire.
I boldly stepped into the portal and prepared myself for long struggle with the Governor. The three months I would be forced to spend entirely in his power were no cause for celebration, but I had no intention of surrendering, crawling on my knees or cowering like a kicked dog before this fumble of the developers. That sweaty toad can kiss my ass and forget about the Orc Warrior figurines, for all his attempted bribery: peace, love or lots of dough. Potential use of physical force against me wasn't much of a worry. I was sure that the freed prisoners couldn't be casually punished or tortured – we did have rights, after all, even if these were somewhat curtailed. It was worth bearing in mind that the system was fully aware that the sensory filters were disconnected, so I had little to worry about and... What on earth is this?
To the player located in a prisoner capsule! You have earned 'Respect' with the Pryke Mine guards and are being transferred to the main gameworld.
You have the option of taking part in the adaptation scenario: 'The Governor's Castle'. Time to be spent at the location 'The Governor's Castle': 2 months 26 days. Role taken: 'Castle craftsman'. Conditions: eight hour work day, a weekly salary, the results of the daily labour go to the Serrest province; every seventh day is a holiday, development of crafting professions (up to level 30 inclusive) – at the expense of the Governor.
Reward for taking part in the adaptation scenario: Respect with the Serrest Province, two items of the ‘Rare’ class.
Should you decline, you will be sent to a random settlement in the Malabar Empire and your reputation with the Serrest Province will fall to the level of ‘Hatred’.
Do you wish to take part in the adaptation scenario 'The Governor's Castle'?
Judging by the shimmering portal that surrounded me I wasn't going to be taken anywhere until I made the choice. If that's the case I had time to think about it, weighing up all the pros and cons.
First. An adaptation scenario... How much more adaptation can I need? I get it already – I'm a loser and a wretch, who only gets handed truckloads of compulsory adaptation instead of the standard game and normal communication with other players. That is definitely a minus.
Second. There's the close proximity to the Govertoad, even if just geographically. I'm sorry Mr. Digital NPC, our encounter was a mistake and mutual love is definitely not on the cards. You just wanted to use me... Right, my thoughts are getting in a mess again... In any case, the Governor's personality amounts to two fat minuses.
Third. I am a business-like person and should think things through rationally. It would be foolish to simply walk past such a pile of freebies: the salary, the development of an unlimited number of professions, the character level being my only limit. I could be learning Smithing, Alchemy, Enchantment, Cartography and level up in many other things at the same time, all justified by the conditions of the scenario. Definitely a double plus.
Fourth. If I refuse, I'll get Hatred with Serrest. This is a clear minus or rather a plus towards taking part in the scenario. There are just forty provinces in Malabar and to lose access to one of them is a very short-sighted choice.
I think that's it. I don't know about anyone else in my place, but for me the choice was clear. I didn't want to limit my freedom to one holiday a week. If that's the case, I'd say 'Good luck' to the Govertoad - he'd have to make do without me. I was all but crestfallen when I jumped into the portal with the flashing message that for two months and twenty six days I'll be stuck in the Governor's castle. Things turned out a lot less dire - the system simply provided advance information of the scenario, naively thinking that I would go for it. After all, it came with so many freebies and big bonuses... They can dream on!
I confidently selected the 'Refuse' sign, small as it was next to the larger 'Accept', and in an instant the world was filled with color, sound and the fragrant scent of a pine forest.
To the player located in a prisoner capsule! You have declined to take part in the adaptation scenario and were sent to the settlement of Beatwick. Time to be spent at the settlement: 2 months 26 days. Maximum time you can spend outside the settlement: 48 hours. If you are found outside the settlement beyond the allotted time, you will be teleported back into the village and a record of violation of the parole conditions will be made. Three violations annul your parole and you will be returned to the mines to serve the remainder of your prison term.
Have a pleasant game!
Compulsory quest accepted: 'Visiting the Village Headman'. Description: go to the headman of Beatwick to be allocated living quarters for the next three months. Deadline for completion: 12 hours. Penalty for failure: 3 violations.
I made a few steps towards the village visible in the distance, but was stopped by another message:
Your reputation with the Governor of the Serrest Province has fallen by 22000 points.
Current level: Hatred. You are 12000 points away from the status of Enmity. Due to receiving a maximum negative value, your bonus for daily reputation gain is invalid.
So they did land me with that after all. That's right – I knew what I was signing up for: the maximum value in negative reputation. Although... A negative reputation is a reputation nonetheless. In Barliona there are four levels of negative reputation: Mistrust, Dislike, Enmity and Hatred. From Neutral reputation to Mistrust there are minus 1000 points and to Dislike another 3000. Then it's minus 6000 until Enmity and 12000 until Hatred. I was given the maximum in one go! When I played my Hunter, I managed to get Exalted, the maximum positive reputation, with only one faction and that only after playing for a couple of years, while now in just three months I went straight to Hatred! Yes, of course a Shaman knows no half-measures, with reputation it has to be at the maximum, with crafted items – only Legendary ones, and with girls only those who get you locked up in prison. Just one thing was bad: now Serrest was lost to me – as soon as I get spotted by the guards there, I'd be immediately sent to prison 'to assess the situation'. Then it's spending a day in the preliminary detention cell and then teleportation to the borders of the province. The next time I'd spend two days in the cell. After that it's three and so on without a limit. The most unpleasant part was that a reputation like that is almost impossible to improve - you need the personal intervention of the Emperor.
Visions of the lost carefree life in the Govertoad's castle floated up on the fringes of my consciousness, but I quickly dispelled them and headed to Beatwick. At the first glance it was a pretty standard average village; judging by the chimneys it had at least seventy households. The wooden houses, roofed with wooden shingles, the barking of dogs, happy shouts of children running around after a madly screeching cat that had something tied to its tail - all of this was a picture of normal village life, which I remembered from the times I had gone to visit my parents. The enormous stockade of thick logs around the entire perimeter protected the village from the dark forest that stood about a hundred meters away. The strange expression 'forest of masts' involuntarily popped into my head - the trunks of the pines, as straight as spears, shot up into the sky, hiding the sun with their thick canopy and creating deep twilight beneath. Fallen pines, shrubbery and hazel thicket, together with other kinds of trees, made the forest quite literally impassable. Only rare paths, probably hacked through by the locals, lead into the depths of this wonder of nature. Despite such surroundings, life was not restricted to the interior of the stockade – up until the very edge of the forest there rolled wide yellow fields of some kind of cereal crops, green meadows, where cows and sheep grazed, and hundred-meter-long vegetable patches that had villagers bent over them with their hoes. The village theme was played out to the full. Thick black smoke and the ringing blows of a hammer came from the smithy that stood near the road to the village. Great: there was a place here for leveling up. The only drawback for me was the red band on my head: without it Beatwick would have all but rolled out a red carpet for me as a free citizen of the Empire. Right now though, I'd be lucky not to get dogs and pitchforks.
I took a deep breath in the fresh air and headed at an unhurried pace towards the village gates, looking out for any special aspects of local life. My main task was to find the local Headman and 'register' my presence in the village. If I only knew where to look for him. This was no Pryke mine, where the orc always sat behind his desk – here the Headman could be running around anywhere.
As I made my way towards Beatwick, I tried to take note of every detail that could be of use in the next three months.
I saw how the smith, large as a bear, came out of the smithy, lifted a small barrel of water and, breathing out a loud 'Eehh!', emptied it over himself, snorting and giving off a lot of steam. He stood there for a couple of seconds giving me an unfriendly stare and loudly breathing in the cool air, then he lifted the anvil from the ground as if it was a feather, shot me one more glance and disappeared back into the smithy. With that I felt my plans for leveling up in professions take a nosedive: I hate heat. For me it's better not to work at all than be sweating buckets, my tongue hanging out as I gulp in the sizzling air.
A group of three bearded men were actively swinging the scythes and giving me extremely unfriendly glances. Their small foreheads, menacing and, at the same time, unintelligent eyes made them look very similar to Neanderthals, whose pictures I remembered from history lessons. They only lacked some animal skins on their backs, otherwise they'd be a spitting image of them. When I walked by them I could hear muttering that didn't sound at all like Barliona's common tongue. I could bet that these three had some kind of a quest connected to them: either they were the quest givers or they would provide some kind of related information. If I asked the locals, it would probably turn out that these guys weren't from around here.
An interesting-looking tree caught my eye...
"Watch out!" the clear voice of a child tore me away from contemplating the local sights. I turned towards the source of the sound and opened my mouth to ask what happened, when my forehead was struck with something large, hard and very painful. Bam! The peaceful county landscape was enriched by the image of a flying Shaman, sending curses on anyone and everyone. My flight came to a stop almost immediately – inside a fresh haystack. With some effort I dug my way out of the green entanglement, spitting out grass and brushing it off my coat. What the hell!? I habitually looked at my Hit Points, and cursed once again. 40% of my Hit Points were gone! What have I done to deserve this? The answer came soon enough, but left me somewhat perplexed. It was a huge cartwheel, tied around with a rope and framed with metal sheets. Riiight. Something like that could send you off for a respawn in no time!
"Are you all right?" a small out-of-breath boy, his face red, flew up to me, barely older than seven, by the look of it. "I was... my tooth... the wheel! It's so heavy! And there you were! And it rolled the wrong way! Took my tooth with it! And then – 'Bam!' And you're flying! Into the grass – 'Whack!' Did it hurt?" He was looking at me with such concern and guilt, trying to tidy up his messy ginger hair with fidgety hands, that I was totally unable to get angry at him. "You won't tell mum, will you? Our blacksmith is good at pulling teeth, but he's so busy all the time, so I have to do it myself," the little boy started to explain, fitfully gulping in air between words and flashing the gap where his tooth use to be.
"Now I have no tooth, like Bald Bobby," the kid continued to chatter and it dawned on me that the wheel that sent me flying was the local replacement for a dentist, when the smith was too busy.
"You really won't tell mum? Otherwise she won't let me out by myself again, only with my sister! And she's such a bore – that's not allowed, don't touch that, keep away from the dogs! Yuck! How can you be so boring? I remember how we went to the forest..." It seemed like part of this NPC's settings stated that if silence lasted for more than a minute he'd immediately vanish from the face of Barliona. It didn't matter what the topic was or whether anyone was listening – he just had to keep talking. "Right, stop!" I interrupted his tale of venturing into the forest and gaining victory over the great vicious rabbit, "Do you know the village Headman? If you take me to him, I won't say anything to your mum," I could use a guide at the start, and the boy must know each and every one in the village.
"The Headman? Who doesn't know him? Everyone does! Five coppers and I'll take you to him right away. He's always hiding, so you can hardly ever find him," the kid was grinning and stretching his small hand towards me, with an expectant look.
"Here you go, you young extortionist," I threw five copper coins into his hand and they immediately disappeared, as if they had never existed. Of course, I could have made the boy take me to the Headman for free, but five coppers weren't going to break the bank and this way I might get some kind of a quest out of his parents (or a good hiding, if it turns out that one mustn't give the kid money under any circumstances.)
"What's your name, then?" I asked the young rascal, who was fussing around the fallen wheel and trying to decide which was the best side for getting to grips with it.
"I'm Clouter," the lad replied quickly and started to redden from the effort of trying to lift the wheel.
"Quit fibbing, there isn't a name like that. Let me help," I came up to him and put the wheel upright. It really was heavy. "Where will you roll it now?"
"I'm Clouter," said the little guy insistently, wiping his nose with his sleeve, "I don't like Avtondil. I won't be called that. Everyone has good names, only I've got a stupid one. I always get a beating for it from the Straighters. No need to roll it, just push it that way, it'll get there by itself." Avtondil... no, Clouter pointed towards the village, "with luck it won't hit anyone this time."
"And who are these 'Straighters'?"
"They are from the neighboring Straight Street, Al Spottino's gang. Watch out!" Clouter screamed after the rolling wheel and shouted to me: "We'll meet down the-ere!"
Clouter tripped up a couple of times, tumbling down the hill, but immediately got up and continued running after the wheel, shouting at the top of his voice. I chuckled at his goofiness and was about to follow him when I was suddenly turned around, lifted off the ground and thrust into the enraged bearded face of the blacksmith:
"Why are you bullying Clouter, you thug?" before I could answer anything, the blacksmith took a good swing and sent me flying again. It's not like I was expecting a royal welcome, but this was too much. These flights were beginning to wear me out with their frequency! I got up from the ground and quickly glanced at my Hit Points. Oh boy! I only had 18% of Life left! A blacksmith's punch hit much harder than the wheel! I saw that I might not survive a second blow and started to summon a Healing Spirit on myself.
"What's with the dancing? You're a warlock!" It was just as well that the Tambourine sped up the Spirit summoning - I managed to completely heal myself only a second before my next flight. This was some blacksmith! Strong as a bear. I tried to get up, but my feet gave way and I slumped to the ground, seeing a semi-transparent message appear:
Dizziness! You lost concentration for 10 seconds.
+10% Endurance. Total: 60%.
"Stop, Mr. Slate!"
"Leave it, Clouter, stay out of the way. Can't you see that we've had a killer-warlock land on us?"
"He's no killer! He helped me to bring the wheel back to the village and he wanted to see the Headman!"
"The Headman, you say?" Slate loomed over me and then with one hand lifted me off the ground. No-one would believe me if I told them that I got caught between a Slate and a hard place in Barliona! Quite literally. "What did you want from the Headman?"
"I'll be living here for three months," I croaked through a half-strangled throat. Well, well! Playing as a Shaman I was beginning to discover Barliona from a completely different angle: I would have never thought that if you press on the throat, the player would start to croak like that. He won't be getting suffocated - just a status bar would pop up, stating that he didn't have enough air. But the rasping is not something I've noticed before. The blacksmith let go and I fell on the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Going to live here, eh? Then why are you loitering here as if you're trying to snoop around? There's no Headman around here," without waiting for my reply the blacksmith turned around and went back to his smithy. By the looks of it, my first encounter with Beatwick residents was far from a success.
"Don't be upset," fired off Clouter. "Mr. Slate is nice, he just probably failed to make something today and that made him all cranky. Let's go together, I've finished rolling the wheel. See where it's crashed into the fence? It can stay there."
By the wooden gates I found the local guards - two red-nosed men with puffy eyes. They were doing their best to stop themselves falling to the ground by propping themselves up against their spears. They clearly weren't doing so because they were tired or spent too long at their posts, but from uninhibited imbibing of spirits. The scent of syrupy homebrew wafted a few dozen meters away from the duo, and several bottles strewn across the ground were clear pointers to what the brave upholders of law and order were really up to. You couldn't say much for their overall appearance either: a short chainmail that reached down to the middle of their beer bellies, sitting on top of a simple tunic, studded thick trousers and worn bast shoes made the guards' appearance so 'terrifying', that even if an enemy decided to invade the village he was doomed to laugh himself to death first.
"Halt! Hic! Who goes there?"
"I'm on my way to the village Headman, I was sent to live here," I gave the simple reply. It looked like the local Headman was someone well-respected and referring to him might open doors.
"To the Headman, eh?" the second guard started to mumble in a drunken voice. "Tell him that the gates are in safe hands, we're watching them like hawks. No enemy will get past us!" The guard straightened out, showing what a strong warrior was guarding the village. He was so overwhelmed with emotion that he lost his balance, took several steps backwards, hit the stockade with his back and slid down, having lost his support from the spear.
"Hold it, Wilkins!" the second guard hurried after him, totally forgetting about the unfairness of things like balance and the force of gravity. I shook my head in resignation at the sight of such guards and was about to head into the village, but then caught sight of the opened gates, which had previously been hidden by the plump guardsmen. They were made of common wood, but one side had been scarred by the four-digit claw of some unknown monster. Moreover, this had been done from the side of the village, as if someone wanted to make an opening into the world outside. I wondered whether there was some quest connected to these gates. Was it to find and destroy the monster? In that case I would be offering my services to the Headman.
"What happened to your gates?" I asked Clouter, when we approached a large house located right in the centre of the village.
"Nothing's wrong with our gates."
"But what about the marks that look like they were made by some claws?"
"That's a prank played by the Straighters. Each night they sneak past the dosing guards and cut the gates with knives. Anyone getting caught gets dragged in front of the Headman and anyone who doesn't gets a ton of honor and respect. For example, I've never been caught yet!"
"So how many times did you sneak to the gates?" I asked, disappointed, and just trying to keep the conversation going now. That could have been such a great quest!
"So far zero times, but I didn't get caught either, right?" the kid gave me a toothless smile and pointed towards a brightly-painted house. "We're here now. The Headman's sitting inside, as usual." He then took off so fast that all I saw were his flashing heels. "And don't forget," Clouter shouted after running a good distance and turning around, "Not a word to mum about the wheel!"
"So you've been sent to live with us?" the Headman asked me, as he carefully rolled up a paper and hid it in a draw of his table. As soon as I set my eyes on him it was clear - this was someone who liked order, a pedant and, at the same time, an NPC who was very sure of himself. I couldn't say why, but his appearance really put me in mind of one of the advisors of the Malabar Emperor. He had the same commanding face, framed by a short goatee, and penetrating watchful eyes that took note of every detail; in general, he was a complete picture of one of Barliona's good officials. He was the complete opposite of the Govertoad and it was no surprise that such a leader had the respect of the people in the village.
"Yes, for almost three months."
"No need to stand, take a seat. We have to decide what you'll be doing here," the Headman gestured me to an armchair and then leaned against the back of his own, looking at the ceiling, as if trying to think of how I could be of use to his village.
I sat in a soft and rather comfortable armchair, which was clearly not of a local make. It was strange that the house of an ordinary NPC should have such furniture, Headman or no. Reluctant to interrupt his thinking I began to examine the village leader's 'office'. It was a separate room in a residential house. An enormous wooden table, like that of the Pryke Mine governor, stood in the middle of the office and was a prime example of a well-ordered work space: everything was in folders and neat piles, with nothing out of place. He really was a pedant. A few modest-sized glass cabinets with books and scrolls, a fireplace and a luxurious thick carpet were the other furnishings of the local leader's office. I was about to shift my gaze back to my host, when it was caught by a relatively small painting: there was the Headman, two grown men, an attractive young woman and a smudge of paint that covered the fifth person in the picture.
"We have no inns, so we'll have to assign you to lodge with someone. I think Elizabeth wouldn't mind, her house has been on the empty side for two years now," the Headman began to fill out a paper, which he then handed to me, "here, please relay my request to her. Furthermore, before I decide what type of work to appoint for you, I need to know what you can do and the level of your skills. I need exact numbers."
I opened my stats and began to read out my professions and their levels. It's just as well that he didn't demand that I should tell him all my stats - I was reluctant to reveal that I had Crafting even to an NPC.
"A Jeweler, a Miner and a Cook," said the Headman thoughtfully. "Totally useless professions in our parts. We have no Precious Stones, you'd have to buy them in town, which is two days' travel away on a cart. Mining might have been useful, but we have only one vein, by the smithy, and it's worked by our blacksmith Slate every day. You're not advanced enough to work an Iron Vein in any case. You could, of course, travel to the Free Lands. That's not far from here. You can get Tin and Marble veins there, but our forest is a dangerous one. Few would go there without decent protection. The Cook profession doesn't even bear mentioning: our Mrs. Potts can teach any cooks - even one of the Governor's - a thing or two. So that's that."
Free Lands nearby? Where the heck did I end up? Is this place really in the middle of nowhere?
"You don't happen to have a map of the Empire? It would be good to know where I was sent to serve my free settlement time," I asked the Headman. He squinted, giving me a long piercing look, and then replied, "Yes, there is a map."
He cleared the table, took a scroll out of one of the drawers and unfolded it. It was an enormous map of the Empire, about a meter by meter and a half. Where did he get such a wonder?! Such a map costs around ten thousand gold! "We're here," the Headman pointed his finger at the very edge of the border with the Free Lands. I bent over the map and quietly swore under my breath. 'Middle of nowhere' would be putting it mildly.
After the unification of all the countries took place and one language was adopted, the real world was split into five large regions, along the continents: Eurasia, Africa, Australia and the two Americas. In parallel with reality, five great continents were formed in Barliona, with each being divided roughly into three zones. For example, on our continent there was the Malabar Empire, Kartoss and the Free Lands. Malabar was where the players lived. It contained the main resources, quests, factions, cities, including the capital, and also some yet unexplored lands. Thus the area where I now found myself had not been completely mapped yet - even on the Headman's map it was sketched out very roughly. Kartoss, the Dark Empire, headed by the Nameless Dark Lord, was about five times smaller than Malabar in territory, which didn't stop it causing a great deal of trouble with its constant incursions and raids. But you had to give this Empire its due: it abounded in unique objects and resources, which were often sought out by high-level players. It is interesting to note that both a raid group of a hundred players and a loner that secretly snuck into Kartoss had equal chance of getting loot. It was impossible to play on the side of the Dark Empire, although many times the players signed petitions and held demonstrations, asking to be permitted to play for the dark side of Barliona. The Corporation kept promising to develop this feature, but, as far as I knew, nothing was ever done in this direction - Kartoss remained the realm of the Imitators. And, finally, the third zone on every continent, which took up almost sixty percent of all the areas accessible for play: the Free Lands. Rare independent towns with their own reputation rating, villages made up of two-three dozen houses, great forests, endless steppes, impassable bogs and mountains that rose up to the sky. In the fifteen years of Barliona's existence only thirty percent of the Free Lands territory had been mapped, with the rest remaining a veiled mystery. Naturally, there were some enthusiasts who dropped everything and dedicated themselves to exploration and travel, but they either failed to produce maps of the explored areas or chose not to share them with the rest. Or, which is most likely, they sold the maps for crazy money to the leading clans. For the majority of players the territories of the Free Lands remained uncharted. One could only guess what quests and achievements they contained, although the Corporation representatives have repeatedly encouraged the players to stop battling Kartoss and explore the Free Lands, saying that these held the 'best bonuses' in the Game. The developers even placed all the new Dungeons, one opened every half a year, inside the still unexplored parts of the Free Lands, to give players an incentive to spend their time on making their way there. But I digress, a lot...
I had been sent for settlement to the farthest reach of the Empire, on the border with the Free Lands, which here took the form of impassable woods, bogs and mountains. There were no towns or villages. On the map, almost exactly by the spot labeled Beatwick, there were several icons indicating free mines in this area. I should go there and check them out. However, what really dampened my spirits was that the nearest Imperial town, Farstead, was a really long way off. Two days on a cart is not exactly next door, if I understood the scale of the map correctly. Considering that I cannot leave Beatwick for more than two days, a visit to Farstead was out of the question.
"Had a good look now?" inquired the Headman and then rolled up the map and put it back in his table. "We may not be in the centre of the Empire, but there's still plenty to do here."
"Do you have any assignments for me?" I asked out of habit, knowing full well that the red band on my head wouldn't make me seem particularly trustworthy in the eyes of any NPC. I had to spend around a week in the village for its residents to get used to me and get less wary of my headband and only then start seeking out any quests. But there's no harm in trying.
"Of course there are, but I can't give them to just any stranger," replied the Headman, confirming my thoughts. "First live here for a little while, make some contribution to the village and then there'll be assignments for you. Although... there is one. Recently a pack of wolves has appeared in the woods. They've become bold and started raiding the herds. The shepherds said that they are lead by an enormous Wolf. If you do away with the Wolf, we can see about other assignments. In any case, it is high time for that pack to be culled, it's no good for it to be roaming the woods in such numbers. But bear in mind – I won’t take your word for it. I will need proof.
Quest available: 'The Hunt for Grey Death.'
Description: A pack of wolves lead by an enormous alpha wolf has appeared in the lands around Beatwick. Destroy 10 Wolves and the great Grey Wolf. As proof that you've completed the assignment bring back Wolf Tails, which have 100% drop rate from each mob. Quest type: Common. Reward: +100 to Reputation with the Krong Province, +200 Experience, +80 Silver. Penalty for failing/refusing the quest: -100 to Reputation with the Krong Province.
"I'll take it. I'll go after the wolves tomorrow, first thing in the morning," I said as I accepted the quest. "But I have a few more questions. How many..."
"Wolves first, questions later." The Headman cut me off in a tone that indicated that the matter was closed. "Now Tisha will take you to Elizabeth, to whom you must remember to give the letter. Go on the hunt tomorrow and after that we'll talk. Tisha!" called the Headman, and a couple of moments later the girl from the painting flew into the room.
"Let me introduce you, this is my daughter Tiliasha. This is Mahan, he'll be living in our village for three months. Take him to Elizabeth, he can stay with her."
"Just call me Tisha." The gentle voice of the girl was in tune with her beautiful appearance. "Let's go, I'll show you the village," she then moved gracefully to the door and gestured to me to follow her.
Quest 'Visiting the Village Headman' completed.
It was a large village. From the side of the hill I counted around seventy houses, but in actual fact there were one hundred and three households. Quite a lot, especially by frontier standards. The village followed a standard layout: the central square, where the Headman's house stood, and three streets: Straight, Crooked and Serpentine. The kids from these streets were always in the process of trying to establish who was the best and strongest, so fights were fairly frequent. Tisha also told me about the gates - a year ago her father carved three claw marks into them in order to put some fear into the kids, who were really beginning to get out of hand, making it look like there was a werewolf in the village. But the plan somewhat backfired: everyone was too scared to set foot outside their homes for a whole week. So he had to come clean about it. Then it became a tradition among the youngsters: if you wanted to prove yourself - you had to carve some claw marks into the gates. During the day the gates were guarded by a couple of drunkards, who were no good for any other job in any case, but at night the more serious guards took their place - either her brothers or hired hands, free citizens of the Empire, same as myself. The same in all but the red bands, that is. I couldn't stop myself from asking if there were any free citizens in the village right now, and was very disappointed to hear the answer that the last such person came through the village half a year ago.
Tisha's own story turned out to be quite interesting. She had come to the village together with her family just two years ago, immediately after the death of the previous Headman, Elizabeth's husband. Before that Tisha used to live in a large city. Her father held quite a high-ranking position, because a carriage use to take him away early in the morning and in the evening a large crowd of richly dressed people would gather at their house, lock themselves in the study and hold long discussions. Then something happened and father gathered the household and came here to the edge of the Empire.
"So the gates are guarded at night by your brothers? All three of them?" the thought of the painting with the smudge wouldn't leave me alone - something was amiss here. From the time of my initiation I had decided to put more trust in my instincts.
Tisha's face darkened, she fell silent and walked for a while through the village without saying a word. She then regained control of herself and said in a serious voice:
"No, not three, just two. But they only do it once a week. Never ask me about my third brother. I don't remember him myself, but we do not speak about him in the family. All that I know is that he betrayed our kin and our homeland and father banished him from the family forever. Not a word more about him. We're here. Elizabeth lives in this house," Tisha turned around and quickly vanished around the turn in the road. Oops. Looks like all my ambitious plans to seduce her have just been destroyed. Now I won't get anything other than a mere greeting out of her until I increase my reputation. A pity. But, in general, she did share some very interesting information with me. Banishment from the family is a very serious act for an NPC. I can't imagine what had to have happened for a former high-ranking official to personally banish his own son. Once I level up my reputation to Friendly, I will certainly ask the Headman about the painting myself. I'd bet my life that the story behind the banishment is quite a complicated one and must have a quest attached to it. Assignments like these are exactly in Barliona's style - improving players' social skills by getting them to reconcile families.
"But you said you wouldn't tell mum anything about the wheel," an upset child's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "You promised!"
"Firstly, I promised no such thing and, secondly, I have no intention of telling anyone anything. What are you doing here?" It took a little while for me to spot Clouter hiding under the porch.
"What do you mean? I live here. With my mum and my sister," replied the boy, crawling out of his hiding place.
"Then it's you that I've come to see. Is your mother home?"
"She's home, all right," Clouter looked around, gave it a thought and started to crawl back under the porch. "But I'm not going in there. It's porridge for dinner and I hate it. If mum sees me, she'll take me by my ear and sit me at the table. I'd best stay here for a while."
"How can I help you?" a low woman's voice made me look up from Clouter's hiding place. Judging by the squeaking of the floorboards the kid was trying to signal me that he wasn't there and that I really had no idea where he might be. With a wise mother's smile Elizabeth looked under her feet and then asked a completely unexpected question: "Excuse me, I wonder if you've see a ginger boy around here? I've baked his favorite pie, but it will get cold soon and won't be as tasty. I'll have to give it all to Dawnie, like the porridge."
"You gave the porridge to Dawnie? For real?" after hitting his head a couple of times on the floorboards, Clouter ran like lightning from his hideout and stood before his mother, eyes shining. "Is it a blueberry pie?"
"Of course, it's the blueberry pie, just as you like it. Run along while it's still hot, you rascal," Elizabeth ruffled his hair, as the kid ran past her and then turned to me again, "So, how can I help you?"
"I was sent to you by the Headman. He said that I could come and live with you for three months. Here are the papers," I handed Elizabeth the letter. If her behavior with her son was so natural, I shouldn't have any major problems with this NPC.
"Three months, eh?" muttered Elizabeth, scanning through the paper. I couldn't help wondering what the Headman wrote in there. I didn't manage to have a look in his house and then was too busy talking to Tisha. What if it gave me a boost to Intellect? You never know. "The nights are warm at the moment, so I can give you the summer house. Is that all right with you?" my landlady looked me over. "Are you going to live here as a freeloader or as a help?"
Was there a quest in this for me? I may have to do it for free, but a quest is still a quest!
"I don't like being a freeloader. If you need anything done, just tell me and I'll do it: whether it's fetching the water, chopping wood or digging the garden..."
"No, my laborers can do all that well enough. The Headman said that you aren't new to cooking," Elizabeth paused and I froze in expectation. A profession-based quest! It's a dream for any player! You can't even imagine the kind of bonuses you can get there! Elizabeth hesitated, but then appeared to come to a decision and said: "I'm not a rich woman, so I can't feed another mouth. You will be completely responsible for feeding yourself?" she then glanced at my red headband and added: "I also ask you not to come inside my house uninvited."
Attention to the player! You have been denied access to the main house of Elizabeth, the widow of the former Beatwick Headman. If you breach this restriction, one violation of your parole conditions will be recorded. Have a pleasant game!
Elizabeth turned around and went into the house, leaving me on the porch in a state of complete depression. I had already gotten all excited about getting quests and a friendly attitude to me... How could I have forgotten my red headband status? With that any NPC will treat me warily and with suspicion. A former criminal, what do you expect? What if I start killing everyone left and right, or pickpocketing and nicking their money? Who knows with these ex-cons! So it looks like earning levels wasn't going to be such a simple task after all. And I had all these plans to gain a dozen or two in the coming three months by doing various quests... A pity. I'll have to do something about that, that's certain. And as soon as possible too.
The summer house, kindly provided to me by Elizabeth, was astounding in its simplicity and Spartan feel. Its entire collection of furniture consisted of one bed, which took up half of the free space. That was it. There was the earthen floor, which remained cold even in today's heat, grey wooden planks for the wall and narrow windows right by the ceiling, which had trouble letting even the moonlight through. Great place for spending the next three months. I threw myself on the bed and started to make plans, just to keep my brain occupied.
First. I'll have to do the quest with the wolves first thing tomorrow. Extra experience and reputation with the Krong province should help me win Elizabeth's trust and move into the big house. I had little desire to be stuck in this cage for three months.
Second. I had to solve the problem of how to visit Farstead. Getting there on a cart wasn't an option - it would take too long. So I had to find another way. The Headman said that a caravan travels to that town from time to time. I had to make an arrangement with its leader to buy a scroll of teleportation from Beatwick to Farstead. The return scroll I could buy there. Judging by the distance to the town, the scroll could cost around eight or nine hundred gold. It's quite a lot, but I had to get to the Bank of Barliona and get my hands on the possessions of my former Hunter character. There should be at least eleven thousand there just in gold, not counting all the leftover equipment. Although all of it was focused on boosting Agility, I could use even that. It would be like plate mail compared to what I had on now.
Third. I had to find out about the mines that I'd seen marked on the Headman's map. He did warn me, of course, that it's dangerous to go it alone there, but I really mustn't let an opportunity like this get away. If I understood correctly, the closest deposits of something or other are located a couple of hours' walk from Beatwick. I didn't really feel like sleeping, so if I left now I'd be back by the morning. This will also give me a better idea about what I can count on in terms of leveling up professions.
Fifth... there is no fifth, I'm done planning. Now is the time for action - to go and look at that mine. But first I had to look through my bag, since I haven't really had time for that until now. After the Dungeon it was quite full of things I haven't even looked at. I threw the contents of the bag right on the floor, lit a rushlight, put it into a small hole in the wall and began the inspection. There were the chess pieces. It was a pity that each Orc Warrior took up an entire slot in the bag. The thought of having to drag all thirty-two figurines around with me left me somewhat stumped. Where on earth will I get a bag that big? Then there were seven rings with a +3 stat bonus and four rings with a +2 bonus. They were the ones I failed to sell at the Pryke mine and were now outdated. There was no point of keeping them for later for a potential sale at an auction. Junk like this wouldn't even sell for five gold. I'll have to offload them with a normal NPC merchant. I didn't even look at the chainmail gloves, dropped by the last boss of the Dungeon. These belonged to the members of my future clan and I had no intention to turn into a rat. Why expose myself to extra temptation? What if I liked them and didn't want to part with them? Twenty three pieces of Malachite, one hundred pieces of Copper Ore and sixty eight Copper Ingots would all come in handy for leveling up my Jewelcraft until I solved my ore supply issues. There was my old friend, the Mining Pick. And, finally, there was the large pile of various skins, tails, meat, claws and other junk, which had dropped from the rats and spiders of the Dungeon. I fought off the impulse to gather it all up and sell it without even looking at it - the first completion of a Dungeon gave quite a good chance to get a considerable bonus even from simple mobs, so I didn't want to throw away something potentially useful. As I sorted through it all, I set aside a Spider Eye, horrible in its look and feel. Its properties remained unidentified, and I did not have the Wisdom stat, which would help in this task. It's not like I needed it in any case. It was much easier to go to mage NPCs in any town and identify the object for a couple of gold. I also set aside twenty two Rat Tails with 'Used by Alchemists' property and twelve Spider Mandibles, with the 'Used by Armorers' property - I would go around the relevant shops trying to sell these goods later. Just look at my thoughts running ahead - 'go around the shops'. I haven't even sorted out the teleportation scroll, but I'm making all these plans for the town anyway. The rest turned out to be total trash, with only the Rat Meat being potentially useful for leveling up in Cooking.
After going through the items, I put them back in the bag, got a solid grip on my Mallet and went out into the night. The owners of Barliona know very well that many of the game's players only appear during late evenings. For this reason the nights here are very light and generally have very good visibility. I took a couple of steps from the door and cursed. Just my luck! It looked like Beatwick was on that unique list of places where the rule about lighter nights did not apply. Pitch black darkness covered the village like a blanket and it was impossible to see anything even a couple of meters away. Thus my plan to go to the mine fell through quite thoroughly. I had no desire whatsoever to trudge around in this dark. I sat on a bench, leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. There was an almost complete silence that seemed to arrive in the village together with the dark, broken only by the rustle of the forest and the quiet chirping of crickets. There were no dog noises or shouts from crowds of NPCs, which were now peacefully sleeping in their houses. It was an ideal night to go out by yourself and breathe in the crisp, clean air, which contained hints of pine resin, fir needles and a tangy whiff of an animal. An animal?! I immediately opened my eyes and saw just a couple of meters away an indistinct cloud, out of which two red eyes were staring at me. What the...? I selected the indistinct cloud and tried to see in its properties what I was dealing with.
Object properties: hidden.
Hidden? How's that? Concealing a mob's properties was impossible in Barliona. Or at least it was until just now. The entire game is built upon the ability to read them, which allows the players to devise combat strategies with the mob or a boss. I had to get into the manual or on the forums to see who is able to hide their properties and whether this was even possible. But that's for later, right now I had other matters to deal with - what does this thing in front of me want? I had little doubt that its intentions were anything but nice and friendly. As a rule, in Barliona if a mob is aggressive, it's sure to have red eyes. Neutral or friendly mobs would have eyes of any other color but red. The two red lamps looking straight at me did not make my immediate future look very promising.
Trying not to make any sudden movements, I got up from the bench and started to shift sideways towards my door. I had to cover just a couple of meters. With every small step I took the strange thing also shifted sideways, always keeping a meter and a half in front of my face. I don't think I'm liking this anymore. Maybe I should attack it first? Attack is the best defense, after all. I was about to summon a Lightning Spirit on this incomprehensible something, but then my hand slid against the door knob. The thought of testing which of us was tougher was evaporated in a second - a door, despite its humble status, was a great obstacle against mobs. No-one abolished the principle of 'My home is my castle' - even in Barliona.
I carefully slid my hand behind my back, slowly lowered the door handle and quickly dropped inside the house. Immediately turning around, I tried to slam the door shut with my whole weight. Just as I was making my first move the beast lunged forward and began to push hard on the closing door from the other side.
Damage taken. Hit Points reduced by 30: 260 (Door hit): 230 (Physical defense). Total Hit Points: 650 of 680.
+10% Endurance. Total: 70%
+5% Strength. Total: 60%
I was just a couple of centimeters away from completely closing the door. I strained all I could, heaving my whole body against it, but the beast that was pushing on the other side just wouldn't let me do it. Moreover, gradually, centimeter by centimeter the door began to open. At some point a mist-covered appendage slipped through the crack that formed. Inside the house the mist dissipated and I could see four sharp claws in the twilight. What is this, an overgrown wolverine? The claws dug into the door and left deep marks - exactly the same as those on the village gates. Was I suppose to think that this is the way the local youth got its kicks? It'll become a running joke if it gets around the village tomorrow - how the Shaman got scared by children's pranks. I was about to stop resisting, but then a message popped up:
Energy level: 30. Stop, you angry Shaman!
This was the automatic message I put in place back at the mine to stop myself biting the dust from the Energy loss. This was no joking matter. It's not like the local kids would have the strength to demolish my Energy in a matter of seconds. This is something else.
But what this something was I didn't get a chance to find out. A couple of seconds later a message flashed that my Energy had gone down to zero and I froze like a broken doll. Unlike in the mines, in the main gameworld Energy can be easily restored from zero, even without the aid of water. But until it is restored to at least ten points, the player freezes like a wax figure.
Another blow on the door threw me far back into the room and already mid-flight I saw some grey shadow speed after me. There was no mist around it, but in the darkness of the room I couldn't make out what it was. Only one thing was clear - the beast had two arms and two legs. Or four appendages, to sum it up. Why did I put out the lamp before leaving? That way I'd know what I was dealing with now. There was a flash of four sharp claws: a sharp pang of pain and the surrounding twilight became even darker. So, my house is not much of a castle, it would seem. Though it's not like it's really my house - I was getting ahead of myself.
There was a flash and it seemed to me that I almost immediately found myself at the entrance to the local cemetery. A very symbolic respawning point. A small temple stood a few meters away from me, shading me from the bright morning sun. Looks like that unidentified beast did get me in the end, and the compulsory twelve hours from the moment of death went by in a flash. Great.
I was about to head to the temple when I found myself staring angrily at a message that popped up:
In connection with your death, your level of Experience has been reduced by 30%. Current Experience: 199; points remaining until next level 1201.
I checked my purse. That's right, it now contained only three thousand gold. The other half was lying in the summer house. I could only hope that no-one had come in and laid their hands on it. It should have been somewhere behind the bed and not really visible from the door.
But what was it that got me? Despite the fact that I had 680 Hit Points and 230 Physical defense, the beast sent me for a respawn with a single blow. I looked into the combat logs, hoping that this feature had become unlocked since my leaving the mine. Yes! Now we'll read what it was that swatted me. I switched on the filter for the damage sustained in the last thirty hours and saw several lines:
23:45:23 Damage taken: 28 (258 'Door hit' - 230 'Physical defense'). Hit Points remaining: 652.
23:45:26 Damage taken: 28 (258 'Door hit' - 230 'Physical defense'). Hit Points remaining: 624.
23:45:39 Damage taken: 28 (258 'Hit against the wall' - 230 'Physical defense'). Hit Points remaining: 596.
23:45:41 Damage taken: 24762 (24998 'Unknown' - 230 'Physical defense'). Hit Points remaining: 0.
I looked at the messages dumbfounded. That was some swatting! Twenty five thousand damage can be inflicted by a mob that's no less than level 70. But where would an aggressive mob of such a level come from in Beatwick and why on earth did it decide to pay me a visit?
"Were you looking for something, my son?" a voice sounded nearby and made me turn around. A small, plump and pink-cheeked priest of some god was standing by the temple, thumbing through the prayer beads in his hands. A black robe covered him from head to foot, but failed to conceal the size of his enormous stomach. "Do you want to receive a blessing from Vlast? In that case you have to become his novice. Are you ready?"
So this was a temple of Vlast. The god of winemaking. He was an analogue of Bacchus, Pan and other such gods from the real world. I went into the manual to read the main limitations imposed by serving this god and was surprised to see that there were none - any NPC or players could become this god's novice without any restrictions. This didn't concern just the novices, but you could even become a priest just a few months after becoming a novice. There were no additional costs or donations to be made. All you had to do is drink a glass of wine or homebrew every day and thus receive your divine blessing. Although if you failed to drink it, you'd incur a divine curse, not a pleasant thing, as a rule. This meant that you'd have to atone for your sins with two glasses of homebrew. All right, I was never that interested in Barliona's religions as a Hunter and as a Shaman had even less need of them. Of course, Vlast is a convenient god for leveling up the Faith stat, but there are just too many complications in this field. Not my thing. Now it was clear, however, where the priest got his large stomach - probably from saying all those daily prayers with his parishioners and anyone else who dropped by. With the devout aid of wine and homebrew, that is. I bet those guards I met by the gates yesterday were also his active novices.
"No, thank you. I respect Vlast, but I am not ready to become his novice. You have my thanks," I bowed to the priest, receiving a similar bow in response.
"As you wish. Vlast doesn't force anyone to serve him. Only someone with true insight could fathom the real depth of his teaching. Can I help you with anything else, my son?" the priest run the standard phrase by me.
"Yes. Holy father, can you tell me if there are any monsters in these parts that roam about at night and bring grief and destruction to the local people?" the incident with the respawn wouldn't let me be. I was dying to find out what dealt me all that damage.
The priest stopped fingering the prayer beads, looked around and then gestured me to follow him:
"Enter into the temple, my son. This isn't the place to talk of such things."
There was nothing interesting inside the temple. There was the altar with the depiction of a rather chubby Vlast, whose bleary-eyed gaze stared into empty space, and a couple of benches. That's it. The place was totally Spartan. The priest went behind the altar, took two cups from somewhere and handed me one of them.
"Vlasts' commandments do not permit one to start a conversation without wine passing one's lips first," the priest said in lofty tones. "I see that there's a reason that you asked me about the night monster," he began as soon as we had drunk a couple of draughts. It was ordinary wine and did not give any stat bonuses - just a 'slightly tipsy' debuff after drinking it. "I can see that this trouble has not passed you by. Yes, there is trouble in our land. People don't like talking about it and everyone's pretending that nothing's happened. You've seen the claw marks on the gates, yes? The Headman had to make up a story, saying that he was the one that scratched them on - just to calm the villagers down. But every seven days the claw marks appear again. It's just as well that the local kids got it into their heads that they are the ones getting up to this, so people stopped worrying. And the fact that every seventh night either a cow or a sheep disappears from the common herd - everyone blames the wolves for that. But no-one gives a thought about how wolves would get through closed gates. The whole village is surrounded by a solid stockade, which not even a mouse would squeeze through. Only the Headman and his sons know the truth, since they spend nights trying to catch the elusive beast. It's been evading them for two years now and they've only glimpsed the monster's red eyes a couple of times. From afar. Your help would be invaluable. Would you take this on? If you could at least find out what beast it is that roams Beatwick, you would receive an ample reward.
Quest available: 'Night terror of the village'
Description: Once every seven days a monster roams Beatwick, which brings trouble and destruction to the residents. Find out who is the night terror of the village. Quest type: Rare. Reward: +400 to Reputation with the Krong Province, +500 Experience, +80 Silver coins, a Rare item from Headman's Stores. Penalty for failing/refusing the quest: -400 to Reputation with the Krong Province.
"I'll take it. I'll find out who is hiding under the guise of the beast," I accepted. Now it all became clear. The beast's properties could not be seen, because that was the nature of the quest. So it looks like I'll have to find out about it the normal way and not the one that only players could use. All right, I'll postpone this matter for a week, when it's time for the hunt once again. Our first meeting with the beast ended with its complete victory, but we'll see how things go from here.
"Thank you, Mahan! If you need help, you can ask for it straight away," the priest thanked me and I headed for the village. It was now time to collect my dropped cash and go wolf hunting. There was leveling up to be done.
Kartoss Gambit (The Way of the Shaman Book #2) is finally on Amazon:
Monday, November 9, 2015
Friday, October 23, 2015
The Eurasia fleet has entered the Darg star system. The unsuspecting players look forward to the adventure of their lifetimes. Zander alone is now facing a harsh and unpredictable "alternative storyline".
The girl he loved is gone. His nervous system is impregnated with artificial neurons that contain fragments of ancient AIs and their identities. Zander's body is implanted with alien artifacts that allow him to survive in the deadly cyberspace of Phantom Server. But his unique development branch pushes him toward the edge of the precipice where his every step may become his last; where future itself is vague and uncertain.
The second book of Phantom Server by Andrei Livadny - The Outlaw - is finally available for preorder on Amazon! Release date: January 12 2016.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
The Lag is the first book of the new LitRPG series The Game Master. Ivan “Attila” gets seriously stuck in the game and if he doesn’t exit it soon, he’s as good as dead. Problem is, someone doesn’t want players to leave. Someone... or something?
Come at Amazon and grab your copy!
Friday, September 25, 2015
“Ahhhhh!” I never thought that the sight of my own hand would be so shocking.
I don't even know what it was exactly that scared me more: my nails being painted dark blue and green; the black-green ring on my pointer finger; the gold chain on my wrist, which was thin with a modestly-sized medallion that looked like two bodies merged in an embrace; or my hand itself, which was plump with short fingers that looked as if they were missing the last joint. What left me feeling afraid was probably all of it put together. The biggest thing was that the hand at the end of my arm wasn't mine! The dream vanished as if by magic, I sat up on the bed and looked around.
The place was unfamiliar to me. It was a rectangular space of average dimensions without windows or doors, with stone wall tiles that were rough to the touch and slightly warm as if there were heating pipes in the walls. I didn't see any lights but, nevertheless, the dim illumination allowed me to make out the outline of objects. The only piece of furniture was my bed. It was huge, as if made for three or four people. There was a burgundy carpet on the floor that gave a slight spring when you stepped on it...
Wait a second! I caught myself having an unexpected thought. How did I know that the walls were rough to the touch and warm, and that the carpet gives a slight spring when you walk on it? After all, I had just woken up and hadn't even gotten out of bed! In agitation at my discovery, I pressed my hand to the wall and quickly reassured myself that the wall really was warm and rough, as if it were made of porous stone. How did I know that? Maybe I had touched it while asleep. That was probably it. I stood up on the floor. The carpet really did give a slight spring as I’d thought. Maybe, I’d gotten up some time during the night and had found out that way? I took a walk along the wall. There was no door or even anything that hinted at a door. And, what was more, there was obviously not enough lighting in the room.
"Light!" I commanded, and the whole edge of the ceiling lit up brightly.
How did I know how to turn the lights on? I couldn't figure out the answer to that question. Maybe somewhere in the depths of my consciousness, I even knew how to get out of this locked room. For some reason, I began doubting that there really was an exit. But where would that exit be taking me? Was I ready for what I'd find outside? It was only at this point that I noticed I had been sleeping in the nude. There wasn't any clothing in the room at all, just those same level walls and a big bed. And what if someone's watching me right now? That thought both stumped and scared me at the same time. I sat back down on the bed and covered my shame with a blanket. It was, by the way, a nice blanket, thick and warm, and inside the duvet cover I felt a soft, pleasant-to-the-touch comforter.
I kept sitting for a while, collecting my thoughts and trying to figure out how I'd gotten there. I couldn't concentrate because I was really thirsty. My throat got dry, and my heavy, clumsy tongue felt bristly and like it belonged to someone else. All my guesses and suppositions about how I'd gotten there turned out one less likely than the next. The only thing I could remember for sure is that I had "overindulged" the night before at the restaurant, then started feeling really bad. Did that even happen yesterday? With difficulty, as if through fog, I got through all the obstacles, step by step putting the pieces of yesterday's events back together. I went to The Wishbone, next to my house. That I remembered distinctly, so from there I could start figuring out what had come next. I was drinking with some guy I barely knew, named Georgiy. He hired me. I was supposed to play for him in some game. That's right. That's it, exactly. But then when I tried to remember what happened after that, my thoughts started getting muddled.
So, could I already be in the game? If I am wearing a virtual reality helmet, then it wouldn't matter what direction I turn my head, all I'd be able to see is screen. I lifted my hands and felt my head. I couldn't feel any helmet there, though that didn't really mean anything. It was possible I was controlling the game with my thoughts, and thinking about moving wasn't moving my actual body but my character's. But how could I check if I was in a virtual world or not? I looked around again at the empty room. Even in the best rendered computer images you can see the pixels! It was a good idea, so I looked closely at the strange ring on my finger and tried to find imperfections. Either the resolution of the virtual screen was very high or the ring was real, but in any case I was not able to make out the individual points that it would have been made of, if it were a computer image no matter how hard I tried.
My thirst continued to grow. I stood up again and, after wrapping the blanket over my body, I set out to take a look at the walls of my... what was this place to me anyway? It was too comfortable to be a prison, but too empty to be normal living quarters. When I walked up to the next section of wall, a space noiselessly opened in it. A piece of stone just came out of the wall and slid to the side, exposing a semicircular archway leading into another room, which turned out to be a bathroom. It came in very handy, as it were. As did the entrance to the shower I found next to it. On the ledge in the shower, there were a plethora of containers I couldn't read strewn about, but that wasn't what stopped me at all. There was a mirror on the wall and I looked into it.
"Ahhhhh!" A scream of despair and fear ripped its way from my chest again.
It wasn't me in the mirror! Looking back at me, from the mirror, was... what's his name... Georgiy Innokentievich! It was his face to be sure, swollen after drinking, looking at me with cloudy eyes from a rectangular frame. That’s his dark hair, his nose and his eyes! How the heck? I stepped back and practically fell down, obviously the fault of the previous day's activities. Along with all that, I had to constantly focus my vision. There were these dark spots constantly moving to obscure my view, and that bothered me a lot.
Think! Think now! The possibility that I was already somehow playing, and that was why I saw someone else's face in the mirror was seeming more and more likely. It was the face of a character created by a different player. Obviously, I would have to play for him now. But what do I even know about my character? I took another look in the mirror. A dark-haired, middle-aged man. Pretty bloated and with a noticeable gut. If he did play any sports, you'd never have guessed it from his figure. That was probably pretty far from something Georgiy did often. Folds of fat dangled loosely from my manboobs and flapped on my gut. Why the heck would you make such an egregiously repugnant character? By the way, what is his name?
As if answering my question, a data table appeared before my eyes:
Georg royl Inoky ton Mesfelle, Crown Prince of the Empire
That put my bare butt right on the uncovered floor. So, now I was sure I was in the game. What more proof did I need?! And, now, it was my job to play this "Crown Prince" called Georg who, in his 47 years, has left his body in such a state that you can't even look at it without wanting to cry!
I'd like to get some more information about my character, like his characteristics, you know, like, strength, agility, charisma... Though... how could you even think about charisma if just looking at this guy had made me react with complete disgust?! But, try as I might, I couldn't figure out how to get to any screen to see my characteristics. Maybe they didn't have that in this game. The only thing I could find out about Georg royl Inoky was something like a popup guide:
Class: Aristocrat, Mystic
Standing: - 27
What's the deal with his standing? Why the heck would it be negative? I got embarrassed for myself somehow. I walked up to the mirror again, calmer this time, and looked at my new face. My eyes were expressionless, off-white with very bright irises that contrasted sharply with my dark hair. They had a reddish tinge, either from being tired or drunk. There were also dark bags under them. A straight nose. Slightly baggy cheeks. A bit unshaven. Teeth... In this department, Georg had actually made me happy. He had a full set, and they were ideally even and white. My real teeth had a chip on the upper right incisor (for some reason, idiot that I am, I opened a beer bottle with my teeth) and I was missing two teeth on the left side. I was afraid of dentists and disregarded cavities when I was in my last few years of school. So, at least in that one regard, my virtual character was better than the real me.
My neck was solid, but not very long. My body... Well, it was so doughy that you couldn't even properly call it a body. I was reminded of what my friends and I used to call a fat classmate when I was young: “wide load.” Now, I was the "wide load." I had obviously weak arms, and there was an ungainly tattoo on my left forearm in the shape of some kind of cartoon character that was driving me nuts. It was either a badly drawn donkey with bulged out eyes and butterfly wings, or some kind of insect with four appendages and either hooves or claws. Medium-length legs that were fat and strong. All my toenails were also painted alternately dark blue and green. Between the legs... Well, at least the Crown Prince didn't have any problems in that regard. I even let loose a whistle and felt a pang of jealousy.
I was getting thirstier, so I took a risk and tried the water straight out of the tap. The local water wasn't too pleasant. It had some metallic undertones, but in any case it sated my thirst. After that, I took a shower (by the way, it was really classy with a big selection of functions and panels), dried off with paper towels and went back to the bedroom because there wasn't anything else to do in the bathroom. When I wasn't in the room, the bed had disappeared, on its own, up into a slot in the wall, leaving the room completely empty. I was standing in the middle of the room and looking attentively at the walls, but I couldn't find any doors other than the two to the toilet and shower I'd found earlier. But this can't be?! Funny, I'm stuck in my own bedroom!
"Building map!" I said loudly and clearly, not knowing how to get out of this ridiculous situation and trying the first thing that came to mind.
It worked! A detailed schematic of the floor with hallways, closed rooms, some kind of elevators and a "you are here” marker in one of the rooms appeared before me. But what caught my eye wasn't the semitransparent map that had appeared before my eyes but the writing below it:
Third (residential) deck of the heavy assault cruiser, Marta the Harlot
I didn't even know what to be more surprised by. Was it the fact that I was on an assault cruiser? Or the fact that I asked for a map and it just appeared at my command? Or was it that some moron named a military ship something so strange and unfitting? In any case, I decided to leave all these questions for later. What was important was getting out of my bedroom. Without effort, I expanded the image and found that there were three exits in my room. One to the bathroom, the second was a very narrow door for staff, behind the corner panel. The plan showed there being a ventilation shaft and power cables there. The third exit was right in the middle of the wall and went into the big hall shown on the map as the "Guest Room." I walked in the direction of the wall shown on the map and the wall panel moved noiselessly up into the ceiling. I finally found the exit!
"Ahhhhh!" I jumped back and covered my nakedness with my hands. "Please forgive me!"
There was a fat old lady sprawled out on a pink sofa in the big hall wearing a long bathrobe and golden hair curlers. There was a thick layer of greasy cream on the aged woman's face. The woman slowly turned her head toward me and bellowed out in an extremely annoyed tone:
"Georg, I'm being serious. That's quite enough! If you're going to scare me and scream like you're being cut every time you take crystals, I'm going to divorce you once and for all. Do you understand?"
There were a few things in her speech that caught my attention right away. The first and most important: that fat cow was my wife. It was extremely hard to believe, because she wasn't to my taste at all. Nevertheless, after looking at her again while averting my view, I read the information in the popup window:
Marta royl Valesy ton Mesfelle-Kyle, Princess of the Star Kingdom of Fastel, ruler of the planet Fastel-XI
Relation to you: Your legal wife
Standing: - 9
Presumed personal opinion of you: -57 (hate)
Kingdom of Fastel's opinion of you: -11 (dislike)
She really was my wife! And, for some reason, she hated me! What a twist!
The second thing I paid attention to was that she had said "divorce you once and for all." What was that supposed to mean? Was it that we already basically were divorced but it wasn't "once and for all" yet? That struck me as strange; however, I was not able to find any more information about why our relationship was strained.
The third thing was also important. It would seem that this wasn't the first time I had reacted this way in front of my wife. Why? Could it be that I had already been in a similar situation? Or maybe this character has already been played by some people other than Mr. G. I. himself?
And finally, the fourth thing. My wife had made a passing reference to crystals. What was that all about? I wasn't even too surprised when a hint about that very question appeared before my eyes:
Crystalloquasimetal-cis-isomer valiarimic acid (slang: crystals). A synthetic narcotic substance with a pronounced hallucinogenic effect. Noted for the extended effect of its narcotic state (from 48 to 86 hours), which presents a non-negligible risk of death to the user due to dehydration. Addiction to crystals as a narcotic begins from the first use.
Consuming crystals became fashionable during the universal popularization of the "drang-musik" musical movement between 658 and 712 and was widely consumed by composers and artists. Later, consumption of crystals became popular among scientists and the upper aristocracy as well. At present, the manufacturing and distribution of crystals is strictly forbidden by the laws of the Empire and can be punished by death, as can consumption of crystals by individuals who are not on the special list of Mystics, reaffirmed yearly by the Emperor.
Effects of taking crystals: may cause detachment from distracting factors, with concentration of cognitive activity for solving day-to-day problems, often in an extremely nonstandard way. This kind of cognitive activity has produced results: from the optimal algorithms for complex systems, to captivating scripts, brilliant financial solutions for firms, winning strategies at various logical games, and much, much more. There have even been recorded occurrences when the individual taking crystals had a very weak understanding of a given subject, yet was able to make a scientific breakthrough in it.
Side effects: very strong narcotic dependency; the need to redose on crystals every 5-8 days, with a slightly higher dose required each time; serious weakening of the body's immune system; reduction of overall muscle mass; and a high probability of developing chronic diseases of the gastrointestinal tract and urogenital system. Notable reduction in sexual activity in individuals of both genders to the point of complete refusal of sexual contact.
Well, I'll be damned! I couldn't believe what I'd read. I have to play a fat, impotent drug addict! Thanks, Georgiy, you did me a solid. If I'd have known this from the start, I'd have told you right where to stick your “good deal!” And no bodyguards would have been able to stop me from giving you a smack right in the jaw!
"What are you looking at? Is your brain still switched off after the drugs? What are you doing walking naked around the berth, swinging your useless family jewels around? Don't embarrass yourself, go get dressed. Your officers could come in with a report any minute!" My fat wife pointed at a crack in the wall. That must have been where the clothes closet was.
Not giving an answer to her hurtful words, I set off for the closet and started getting dressed, trying not to pay attention to the shameless way Marta was looking at me. By the way, was it her that this ship was named after? I'd have to look up where the name of this cruiser came from and how my wife behaved herself, when I got the chance.
The clothes were bizarre. The underwear were form-fitting and very thin. The unitard was like a jacket and pants sewn together with self-correcting rubber bands, fitting it exactly to the shape of your body. I finally figured it all out and put the clothes on. It wasn't too fast, but there were also no particular problems. I especially liked the boots. They were high, practically to the knee, but soft, and you couldn't feel them on your foot at all. The situation immediately became easier to handle with clothes on. I had barely gotten dressed, when the trill of the doorbell rang out and a gray-haired old man came into the room in a severe, silvery-gray uniform. He bowed deeply and declared in an official tone:
“My Prince, officers from the ship are awaiting you in the entrance hall. Shall I let them in?"
I looked at the old man. A popup told me that the person standing before me was my 135-year-old, loyal personal secretary and butler, by the name Bryle:
Presumed personal opinion of you: +37 (loyal)
"Remind me, Bryle. What am I to discuss with these officers?" I asked my servant.
If he was surprised, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Bryle bowed again and told me that I myself had asked them to bring a detailed report on all skirmishes with the aliens and, also, that I was preparing to share my new defense strategy for Perimeter Sector Eight with my subjects. No more, no less! I laboriously swallowed the lump that had appeared in my throat.
"Tell them..." I began, looking for a reason to get rid of these officers who had appeared at such an inopportune moment, but I suddenly changed my mind and said, "No, never mind. I'll tell them everything myself."
Bryle nodded gently at me and placed his hand on the illuminated circle, which opened the entrance door. Trying not to lose my resolve, I went out into the hall. There were six people there in military uniforms and one "nonperson," a ten-foot-tall insect that looked like a praying mantis with six appendages of various lengths. The upper pair of "arms" were hypertrophically huge, with spikes that gleamed menacingly on its chitin armor, and looked scary even when folded up. The middle pair of appendages were thin and maneuverable, the so-called "almost-human arms." And the lower pair looked something more like what you'd call "legs" with backward knees. The first thing to jump out about the insect's face was its eyes. They were huge, each one was the size of a soccer ball. I could see myself, the hallway, and the frozen soldiers reflected hundreds of times in miniature form in its compound eyes.
I quickly looked around at everyone, but there was only information on two of them: the squat, almost square man in a heavily armored suit and the ten-foot-high praying mantis.
Mwaur Zen-Bey, captain of the Imperial Space Marines
Achievements: Has combat medals for participation in interspecies conflicts
Standing: + 2
Presumed personal opinion of you: -3 (indifferent)
Empire Military faction opinion of you: -10 (dislike)
There was very little information about the praying mantis:
Triasss Zess, assistant to the ambassador of the Iseyek State to the Empire
Race: Alpha Iseyek
Gender: Neutral, third clutch
Standing: + 2
Presumed personal opinion of you: unknown
Iseyek race opinion of you: 0 (indifferent)
I wondered what made these two characters different from the other four. Why could I find out more about them, but not the others? Were they real players, while the others were NPCs? That was probably it.
When I appeared, the people froze at attention, as did the extraterrestrial diplomat, pressing his arms to his torso, obviously copying the pose the people were making. I asked which one of them had prepared the materials I requested. The six military men exchanged confused glances. Either they were all counting on someone else to do it, or they all had just equally forgotten about my order. It looked strange. What were they doing coming to a scheduled meeting with the Prince and not even taking the time to prepare? The ambassador saved the situation. Triasss Zess stepped forward and, in a very clean-accented human voice, told me that he had prepared a whole collection of materials on all times people had encountered the mysterious race and added materials to that about encounters the Iseyek race had had with these aliens as well.
Instantly recognizing the opportunity that had presented itself to sit and study the materials one by one and simultaneously find out more about the overall game world, I dismissed the six military men:
"My good men, I will have to first carefully study the materials brought by the honorable Triasss Zess in order to make any necessary corrections to our defense plans and take all this information into account. Please forgive me. It seems I called this meeting prematurely. I'll need some more time..."
I lost track of what I was saying a bit when my gaze accidentally fell on the wide, oval porthole behind the soldiers. Behind the thick glass was the darkness of space and some long metal arms like cranes or claws. It was then that I realized that the ship I was on, Marta the Harlot, was not a typical oceangoing ship but a real-life star cruiser.
"... Could you please leave me alone with the honorable ambassador?" I asked, finally having collected my thoughts and turning quickly away from the window.
It seemed that the soldiers weren't too happy with the fact that I wanted to conduct a discussion alone with the Iseyek; however, none of them chose to express their dissatisfaction out loud. I pulled back to the side, letting the ambassador into the hall. It seemed that I had done something wrong, as the praying mantis froze for a few seconds before coming through the door.
"I am grateful to you for the honor you have given me in allowing me to enter your personal chambers, my dear Prince Georg," said the praying mantis as he slightly lowered his head and came through the door. There was a beep in my head as if I'd just received an email. Some lines passed quickly in front of my eyes:
Standing change. Your relationship with Triasss Zess has improved.
Presumed personal opinion of you: +10 (warm)
Standing change. Your relationship with the Iseyek race has improved.
Alpha Iseyek race opinion of you: +2 (indifferent)
Beta Iseyek race opinion of you: +1 (indifferent)
Gamma Iseyek race opinion of you: +1 (indifferent)
Thankfully, that cow, Marta, wasn't in the room any more. Bryle produced a remote control and nimbly pressed a combination of buttons. Immediately, the couch retracted into a gap in the wall, and two armchairs and a big, oval table came out in its place. Then, a ten-by-ten flat screen descended from the ceiling. I asked my butler to bring me a glass of some kind of juice as well as something for my guest. The praying mantis and the old servant shot me equally flabbergasted looks. At that moment, the old man's eyes looked a lot like the shifting compound eyes of the huge insect standing next to him. But Bryle nodded in silence and left the room, and I got another set of messages:
Standing change. Your relationship with Triasss Zess has improved.
Presumed personal opinion of you: +20 (trusting)
Standing change. Your relationship with the Iseyek race has improved.
Alpha Iseyek race opinion of you: +4 (indifferent)
Why were they all so surprised at what I was doing? What was wrong with these praying mantises? My question was answered almost immediately. An indistinct shadow rose up off the flat wall, quickly acquiring the appearance of a huge bipedal lizard. At first, I nearly shouted, but almost instantly I recognized the figure from my drunken dream. This was one of Mr. G. I.'s bodyguard lizards from the restaurant. Obviously, they must have been Prince Georg royl Inoky’s bodyguards. In other words, now they were my bodyguards. The information that came up on the lizard told me that he was pretty kick-ass:
Popori de Cacha, Bodyguard Division commander
Gender: Male (at present)
Achievements: Has earned athletic awards in marksmanship and no-rules fighting, two-time winner of the famous Gug-V survival tournament
Standing: + 6
Presumed personal opinion of you: -2 (indifferent)
Chameleon race opinion of you: +1 (indifferent)
"My Prince," explained the reptilian chameleon, keeping one eye on me, but not taking the other off the gigantic praying mantis. "Soldiers of the Iseyek race are extremely fast and deadly, and, insofar as the ambassador has undergone military training, there can be no doubt that he presents a risk. My division and I will simply not be capable of defending you as long as you are so close to Ambassador Triasss."
"I appreciate your concern, Popori de Cacha, but try to understand me. Our common foe is getting closer every day. No race will be able to make a stand alone. My defense strategy requires us to work actively together with several races, including the various groups of the Iseyek race. Without trust, this is impossible. How can I trust the Iseyek state in the future, if I cannot trust their official ambassador now? What's more, I would even request that you and your soldiers take your leave of this room during the negotiations, so we can demonstrate our openness and level of trust to the honorable Mr. Ambassador. At the same time, I would like you to check the whole cruiser for all potential crystal hiding spots and destroy everything you find, no exceptions.”
Both of the chameleon's eyes turned to me at once. It obviously meant that he had been very taken aback, to the point that he even took his eye off the ambassador he had yet to stop being suspicious of.
"Excuse me. Could you repeat that, my Prince? I must have misheard you..."
"Yes, Popori de Cacha, you understood everything correctly. There is very little time remaining, and I cannot allow myself to lose any more time to a drugged-up haze. For that reason, you must find and destroy all crystals you find on the ship. And, thereafter, everything and everyone coming on this cruiser must be monitored to prevent even one gram of that junk ending up here. Any attempt to bring it on the ship must be uncovered and intercepted with no mercy. Any person or nonperson who tries to offer me crystals is to be considered an avowed enemy and must be eradicated immediately, regardless of their status. That is an order, now follow it!”
Popori de Cacha let out a quiet, faltering whistle, and immediately three lizards appeared in what was not even a very big room. What was more, one of my bodyguards turned out to have been on the ceiling, right above my head. The Division commander whistled again and all four bodyguards exited the room in an unhurried and dignified manner.
When the door shut behind them, the Ambassador, Triasss Zess, stood motionless for some time, looking around the room with his huge compound eyes. It seemed to me that the praying mantis didn't believe that all the guards had really left. Triasss Zess took a sip of a bubbly green drink from a long transparent straw on the side table. He savored the drink, wriggling his wet mandibles, then carefully placed the unusual vessel on the table and... In the space of a second, the ten-foot-high praying mantis had already made it over to me, somehow having gone over the table that had been between us. In an instant, my neck was being pressed between the blades of the "unique" scissors, curved at the joint, which had once been his upper right appendage.
"How long I've waited for this moment!" Whispered Triasss Zess directly into my ear, with a sinister tone. ¬"You people are as blind and naive as you were on the first day you made contact with our civilization. How little you know about my people. How simple it was to trick you! As long as you're born an Alpha Iseyek, all the Empire's much-touted special services consider you harmless and will even let you in to meet a member of an Imperial dynasty... You see, I trace my lineage from the family of Igir-Gugorito, the hatchlings of whom were destroyed on the orders of, as it were, the Orange House of the Empire. The Sival-II Hive Massacre happened just 170 years ago, and you humans have already forgotten about it. But the Iseyek nation has not forgotten! How joyful it makes me to take my revenge on a member of the Orange House!"
I felt the praying mantis's spiny, razor sharp appendage slowly tighten around my neck. The chitin spines pressed into my throat, piercing flesh. It was very painful. I took a breath, but didn’t feel even a drop of fear. It was more like a detached interest. Will I see a “You have died” message? “Game over?” Will I have to make a new character? Or will I come back at the respawn point? The screen got darker and darker – and that was the first time I died in the game.
* * *
"So, what'd you think?" Came a vaguely familiar voice from out of the absolute, pitch-black silence.
It took me a few moments to recognize the speaker’s voice. It was Mr. G. I., that son of a gun! I took in a lungful of air, getting ready to launch into an uncensored tirade directed at the liar and cheat who had tricked me into a game I had never played before. But still I said nothing, as it struck me that I had died in the game but not respawned yet! There wasn't a new character creation menu, nor was there a "Continue from previous save" option. What was that about?
"Don’t you have anything to say? How was your first day? Have you spoken with the staff officers yet? Were you able to come up with something worthwhile with them in your one day?" My acquaintance was pelting me with questions, making it impossible to concentrate.
"I haven’t had the chance to talk to them as much as I would have liked. I got killed by that praying mantis almost right away," I admitted in shame.
My new employer started to seem confused. Georgiy even asked me to repeat myself:
"What praying mantis? Are you talking about the messenger from the Iseyek embassy? How did he even get close to you? The cruiser is full of guards. Go into any hallway. You can't even spit without hitting a guard. Plus, there are four invisible chameleons that won't let anyone dangerous get anywhere near you under any circumstances.”
I had to explain in detail that I had dismissed the officers myself, let the assistant ambassador into my room and ordered the bodyguards to leave. Judging by his reaction, Georgiy had not foreseen this cascade of thoughtless actions on my part. He said nothing for a long time. It even seemed that he was consulting with someone.
"Here's the deal," rang out the familiar voice once again after I had already managed to lose interest. "So, they killed you. Don't worry about it. You'll wake up soon enough in the medical center; the doctor will tell you something about how they were 'barely able to get you out.' It'll be a good lesson for you in the future. There's just one thing I can't figure out. Why would a messenger from the Alpha Iseyeks attack a relative of the Emperor?"
"He said something about broken eggs and revenge on the Orange House. But to be honest, I didn't really understand what he was going on about."
"So, that's how..." my acquaintance remarked in surprise, even becoming noticeably scared. "So the praying mantis really did have a reason, even if it is a really old story. On first contact with his race, we humans acted with too heavy a hand. Some pioneers found a nice planet for building a distant Human outpost, but there was already intelligent life on it. Our scouts reported that the praying mantis race inhabiting Sival-II was extremely technologically backwards and also too aggressive for negotiation to be feasible. Those people mistakenly decided that no one would ever find out about these events taking place on a faraway planet... Admiral Bayagor royl Stashek ton Mesfelle was acting on incomplete information and underestimated the military and economic power of the Swarm and their allies. Fifty years of interstellar war followed that fateful error. Now both sides have learned to respect one another's territory and interests, and there is peace with the Iseyek. Some unsubdued fanatics do remain among the Gamma Iseyeks, though. These insects, resentful of our race, think that the Orange House, to which Admiral Bayagor royl Stashek belonged, has not paid the full blood price for that long-ago aggression.”
There was a plethora of unasked questions spinning around in my head, but Georgiy suddenly informed me that our conversation would be ending, as I would soon be respawning. Immediately after his words, I saw a glaring white light, and the vile scent of ammonia filled my nostrils as I woke up.
"Thank the Creators, you're alive, my Prince!" Hunched over me was a man with a swarthy face, a big Roman nose, and huge, dark hazel eyes. He was wearing a white, plastic smock and a round, white cap that covered his hair.
Nicosid Brandt, your personal doctor
Achievements: Numerous awards for scientific works in the fields of psychiatry and rehabilitative medicine (full list available on next tab). His mastery and loyalty to the Empire have been affirmed repeatedly. Approved to work with members of the upper aristocracy.
Standing: + 19
Presumed personal opinion of you: +35 (loyal)
I took a sharp smelling flask from in front of my face and let out a sneeze. The doctor's face reflected a mix of tenderness and a certain concern.
"Have I been lying around here long?" I wondered, without greeting the doctor or giving a word of thanks.
"Not very, my Prince. Forty minutes have passed since you were brought to my office. I intentionally did not wake you up earlier, as I needed to examine the wounds on your throat to make sure that they did not present a risk."
After the doctor's words, I felt my neck and there really was some kind of moist bandage. The doctor, as if reading my thoughts, extended me a rectangular mirror. I noticed a wide, white, elastic bandage. Under it, there was some gauze soaked with some kind of yellow ointment.
"Nothing serious, my Prince, just grazes and scratches. They'll disappear without a trace in two or three days. The Iseyek that attacked you merely squeezed your carotid artery until you passed out.”
"What happened to him, by the way?"
"Triasss Zess did not resist. In fact, he opened the blocked doors to the berth and called for medical aid. Your security force tried to kill him on the spot, but Princess Marta's guard intervened. The praying mantis is now sitting in the prison chamber awaiting the judge's ruling. Your spouse has locked herself in her personal chambers with her interstellar legal counsel."
"Should it not be me who decides the fate of the criminal who attacked me?"
"My Prince, if what took place had been an attack on a member of one of the Great Houses inside the Empire, your claim would be indisputable. However, the incident took place on a military starship belonging to the Kingdom of Fastel. Marta royl Valesy is the noblest representative of the Kingdom of Fastel on board this cruiser, which means that, legally, only she may rule on this case. Insofar as I understand, she is presently consulting with a panel of experienced lawyers to choose Triasss Zess's method of execution. They need to assure the Empire remains satisfied, while also keeping the Swarm from being overly offended."
The way this situation had turned out did not suit me one bit. To my mind, if the praying mantis had wanted to kill me, nothing would have been able to stop him from doing just that. But he only knocked me out, then called for first aid and turned himself in. His actions didn’t resemble those of a murderer. And so I decided:
"Nicosid, I need to have a meeting with the arrested Iseyek messenger immediately. He is in possession of information of critical importance to the Empire. I must familiarize myself with it."
"Not possible, my Prince," came the doctor, staggering back in fear. "The suspect is extremely dangerous! Especially now that he has absolutely nothing to lose!"
"Popori de Cacha!" I exclaimed, calling for my bodyguard.
I didn't see the chameleon; however, I had no doubt that he was in the room somewhere. And in fact the contours of the enormous lizard did begin to show on the backdrop of a big, abstract picture on the wall. In just a few seconds, the six-and-a-half-foot chameleon was standing in front of me, waiting for my orders. Before beginning to speak with the leader of the guards, I noted the fact that his loyalty to me had made a noticeable drop:
Presumed personal opinion of you: -7 (disapproving)
Obviously, my poorly thought out behavior, ending in my ridiculous death, had earned my bodyguard's well-deserved annoyance. I tried to correct the vexing misunderstanding, "Popori de Cacha, you were right about the Iseyek messenger, I admit my mistake. In the future, I will try to listen to your wise advice. And, as a matter of fact, I am presently in need of the verdict of an experienced bodyguard. Can I speak with Triasss Zess without putting my life in excessive danger?"
"The safest method is to communicate via videophone, without coming into close contact with the arrestee," reasoned the Chameleon.
"Holy hell, that makes sense," I agreed. "But I'm specifically wondering about a personal conversation with the praying mantis. We may end up discussing very confidential matters, so I would not like our secret conversation to take place over the ship's communication system. This way, we can be sure foreign spies aren’t listening in on our conversation. Just tell me your expert conclusion. Could you and your soldiers provide for my safety if I were to go into the praying mantis's chamber, or not? Having a conversation with the arrestee is very important to me, but I'll do whatever you conclude is best."
It looked like my question had put Popori de Cacha into a contemplative state. The chameleon's eyes stopped twitching in all directions, and a cloudy white film descended over them. It was a curious sight. It was the first time I'd seen a Chameleon deep in thought. This intensive thought process continued for twenty seconds, after which his eyes opened and Popori de Cacha answered:
"My Prince, I officially guarantee your complete safety during your meeting with the arrestee in the name of the Ravaash race, known to humankind as the Chameleon race. However, I will need to enter first, look over the space carefully and prepare the praying mantis for questioning. I'll only need two minutes."
"Excellent, take me there!"
The door to the hallway slid silently aside, revealing a short hallway packed with well-armed people. I only needed one look to figure out that there were members of two different groups of soldiers present. There were a great deal more of the well-armored guys in light gray uniforms, armed primarily with light firearms. I looked closely at the emblem on one of their shoulders. A message appeared obligingly before my eyes telling me who was in front of me:
Space corporal of the Second Heavy Fleet of the Star Kingdom of Fastel
Mhm. I immediately figured out that the gray soldiers belonged to my beloved wife. Then, can I assume that the ones wearing gilded uniforms are mine? I turned to the nearest lumbering hulk of a man.
Sergeant of the Space Fleet of the Orange House of the Empire
It seems I was not mistaken. But there weren't many golden soldiers – no more than 15. They were equipped with either an archaic rifle almost as long as a person is tall, or some baffling, obviously heavy gizmo that looked like a twisted fire poker. Some of them were even armed with nothing but blades. It looked somewhat strange and led me to think that I was seeing the remnants of an army that had been crushed, hurriedly gathered into one group made of different types of soldiers and hastily equipped with whatever weaponry was at hand. The sight of it left me visibly upset, however I tried to maintain my stony expression despite having a whole bunch of questions running around in my head.
I took a harder look at the "golden" soldiers and determined that the sergeant I had looked at earlier was the highest ranked soldier among them. All the other soldiers were just privates. I turned to the sergeant and he froze at attention.
¬"Your name, sergeant?" I wondered.
"Tavar Prest, my Prince. Senior gunner from the frigate Pyro-27 in Your Highness's fleet. One of three survivors from that frigate, after the recent battle."
I started to realize that I was not wrong: they really were the surviving members of the crew of my own personal fleet, which looked to have been completely destroyed. What happened? Why are my people in such a sorry state? I didn't have nearly enough information about the events that preceded my entering the game. Nevertheless, I couldn't show my subjects how confused and ignorant I was. Trying to make my voice powerful and confident, I issued an order:
"Sergeant, organize the survivors into an escort and have them accompany me to the prison chambers. I need to speak with the praying mantis that attacked me."
The sergeant obviously appreciated the high level of responsibility placed on him with this mission to guard such an important person, and quickly and skillfully ordered the "golden soldiers" into a three-part formation. We weren't able to get very far before we were blocked by an officer in a gray uniform. Based on his patches, he was the captain of my spouse's personal guard.
"Prince Georg, I have been ordered to provide for your safety and not allow further incidents similar to that with the Swarm messenger. For that reason, I must request that you either return to the infirmary or go, guarded by my soldiers, to the residential zone. Your wife, Princess Marta, will be very dissatisfied if you leave your designated area on the ship of your own volition."
Behind the insolent officer, other figures in gray were already lining up. It looked as if they were preparing to stop me by force, if necessary. I raised an eyebrow in dissatisfaction, trying to look as pompous and haughty as possible, and declared:
"Captain, can it be that a prince of the Orange House of the Empire is being held captive on the ship of an Imperial ally, the Kingdom of Fastel?"
The officer shook his head "no" in silence.
"Then allow me to pass and do not interfere in my business! Popori de Cacha, there is no need to kill him! This man is simply doing his duty. He is no enemy to us."
I only said the last part because the captain was hesitating about whether to get out of my way. I thought that mentioning the leader of my invisible bodyguards would be enough to push this slightly impudent dog of war in the right direction. But what happened, though, was even better. Behind the horse-stubborn officer appeared a chameleon holding a sharp, curved blade to our obstructer’s throat.
"Yes, my Prince. Disrespect to members of the House of the Emperor is supposed to be punished, but if you insist..."
Popori de Cacha slowly pulled his weapon away from the officer's neck and backed away while giving a very convincing imitation of a human bow. The captain hurried to make way. His people also stepped aside, many of them smiling nervously as they did. When my retinue had reached the end of the hallway and entered the elevator on its way to another deck, my bodyguard wondered:
"My Prince, allow me to ask a question that's been torturing me. How were you able to detect me? How did I reveal my position? I need to understand this in order to correct this shortcoming in the future."
I chuckled happily back:
"Popori de Cacha, you were flawless as always. You did nothing to give away your location. I simply assumed that my very capable bodyguard would be trying to keep the situation under control and would be as close as possible to the person who dared block my path. As you see, I was not wrong."
Standing change. Your relationship with Popori de Cacha has improved.
Presumed personal opinion of you: +10 (warm)
The system message that popped up was unexpected, but very welcome. It seems I was able to get through to my bodyguard and make a step forward in my standing, which had been ruined by my predecessor.
All four chameleons appeared at the doors of the prison chamber. Three of them got the hallway leading to the elevator secured, while the commander asked me to wait as we had agreed. Popori de Cacha entered a code into the keypad in the wall with his long, flexible fingers. Then, he unlocked the door and went into the prison chamber. Popori de Cacha finished his inspection of the room in even less than two minutes.
"My Prince, the prisoner has been subdued and does not present a threat to Your Highness," announced my bodyguard about a minute after entering.
I slid open the metal door and went inside. The praying mantis was lying down by the far wall. His upper appendages were folded up and handcuffed together, so his scary, sharp weapons would remain out of play. The long, spiny legs of the enormous insect were stretched limply out along his body. I don't know exactly who did what to him, but it seemed to me that the praying mantis's legs were broken or paralyzed. And his middle pair of appendages... was simply gone! Where the messenger’s "small arms" had been just minutes before, now there was nothing but jagged wounds showing through a yellowish slime. I looked around somewhat dumbfounded and noticed that Popori de Cacha had ripped out the praying mantis's thin arms and was holding them in his hands! The chameleon followed my gaze and took it on himself to answer:
"Alpha Iseyeks have no problem speaking without the middle pair of appendages. I did it for your safety, my Prince: the middle arms were not bound, so I preferred not to take any risks. In any case, the murderer who attacked you is going to be executed, so it doesn't really make a difference."
I hadn’t explicitly approved such a harsh method of preparing the prisoner for a questioning, but the disabled praying mantis spoke out unexpectedly in agreement with his torturer:
"Your bodyguard is right, Prince Georg. The small upper arms of my race are in no way connected with the speech function. As such, I will be able to provide you all the information I was supposed to have communicated to you initially: The Swarm first encountered the aliens less than two standard years ago, but have since grown quite afraid of their power – so afraid that evacuation of all egg clutches has begun in all peripheral Swarm star systems. And what would have earlier sounded totally unthinkable is that the eggs are not even being brought to the capital..."
"It's that bad?" Though I couldn’t understand why that situation should be surprising, as the praying mantis had emphasized it, I decided to support him.
"Yes, Prince Georg. The Swarm came to the conclusion that the Iseyek race is not in proper shape to prevent the capture and destruction of our capital planet, Dekeye, by the alien fleet. Given that, bringing the eggs to the capital would be a mistake that could put the Iseyek race on the verge of extinction. Because of this, the construction of gigantic transport starships made for holding billions of eggs has begun in all Swarm star systems. All these ships will be outfitted not only with standard warp drives, but also with other drives that are more powerful, if unstable. The Swarm thought that, if sending the starships to the farthest reaches of known space couldn't save them, it was better to risk sending the ships, filled with our descendants, to a random point in the Universe than to allow those freaks to completely wipe out our species. Now the only issue is the time factor. Although all Swarm resources are currently devoted to their construction, building such huge starships will still take several standard years. Nevertheless, the aliens are coming too fast and no one can guarantee that we'll have enough time. Our analysts have calculated that, given the present situation, the Swarm will not have enough time to launch the transport ships with our descendants. There are many reasons for this. The threat was detected too late and, due to insufficient information, a mistaken decision was made to construct such gigantic ships, but there isn’t enough time or resources left to change that significantly. So, the Iseyek race has sent ambassadors to the Empire to seek aid from the Human race. The Swarm is prepared to offer a lot to humanity to get the Imperial Fleet to defend our territory and buy us more time. As soon as the starships are finished and the eggs are sent to a safe place, the Swarm will turn all our many shipyards over to producing military ships, in order to give the aliens a fight and buy more time.”
I heard the praying mantis out, furrowing my brow and immersing myself in thought. How powerful must the alien fleet be if the large, developed, interstellar Iseyek civilization is already planning to turn tail? In parallel, I was thinking about something else entirely. There was also another matter that I couldn’t help thinking about. For example, it really hurt me when the praying mantis pressed my neck between its spines. But the person I was interrogating, with his arms ripped out, couldn't seem to care less about the fact that he was missing appendages. Two arms had been ripped all the way out, and nothing, no emotion. I had no doubt that the creature before me was being controlled by a live player. Triasss Zess had an information popup, and he behaved too unpredictably to be an NPC. Why didn’t he feel pain? And how was he controlling his extra appendages anyway? Or are there totally different laws about playing alien races? I tried to banish these out-of-place thoughts and concentrate on the plot of the game.
"How long can your fleet hold back the aliens?" I wondered to Triasss Zess.
In response, the messenger could only squint his huge eyes, which was obviously supposed to indicate grief or sorrow.
"Prince Georg, the sad truth is that the Iseyek race no longer has a star fleet capable of offering any kind of resistance against an alien invasion. The Deeho reconnaissance squadron was completely destroyed while traveling in the direction of the nearest cluster captured by the aliens, Aysar. The Ayho fleet, which did a pretty good job of holding back Imperial attacks for many years, was destroyed entirely in the first battle. The only ships spared were not from the main classes. The Virho fleet took heavy losses and retreated to the capital, Dekeya. The Yuho reserve fleet is not fully equipped or manned and is in the Sival system, but it's really more of a response group than a full-on fleet. The Yayho border fleet is focused on its only mission: not letting any ships enter Swarm territory, so the fact that we don't have adequate defense capabilities will not escape our borders. The hardest fact in all this is that there are no more reserves to wait for, because all Swarm shipyards have been completely given over to building transports, not military ships.”
“Then why I have suddenly been entrusted with such critically important, top secret information on the deplorable state of Swarm defenses?” I really did not understand why such inappropriate trust would be placed in me, a member of the Orange House, which the Iseyeks themselves had no lost love for.
The ambassador's assistant silently shifted his mandibles, then said, slightly taken aback:
"Who else would it make sense for the Iseyeks to go to than the Crown Prince and official representative of the Empire responsible for guarding Sector Eight, where a large portion of Swarm territory is located? What's more, you, Prince Georg royl Inoky, have already fought against the alien ships yourself, so you have a better idea than other people in the Empire of how freakishly strong a whole fleet of those ships can be. Well, it was also of no small importance that the strongest stellar flotilla in this region is under your command, making you the most valuable Imperial representative for my race."
In regards to his last point, I could have disagreed with the praying mantis in that I had already figured that a large portion of the military ships out the porthole were from the Kingdom of Fastel's fleet, more subordinate to my plump wife than to myself. However, I did not emphasize that subtle distinction. Trying to take it the other way, I put on the most confident and majestic face I could.
"Very well, Triasss Zess. As the official representative of the Empire in Perimeter Sector Eight, I am prepared to approve military aid to the Iseyek race. Humanity shall aid the Swarm in the fight against the aliens; however, the Swarm must also participate in the defense of Sector Eight, and not only in Swarm territory but in neighboring territory as well.”
The praying mantis began turning his huge eyes, oscillating between expressing delight, and apprehension. The ambassador's assistant spoke, carefully enunciating each word:
"May I request that you prepare a clear, bulleted list of what aid the Empire is expecting from the Swarm? I would also like to request that you convey that information to my homeland, in that I will apparently not be able to do so, in view of my impending execution."
"First, I will need all the information you have on all military engagements between the Iseyek race and the aliens: information on noted concentrations of alien ships, and also all information that has been collected on the aliens. Secondly, I'll need official permission to move my fleet through Swarm territory as well as comprehensive information and technical support for my fleet. Thirdly, I need the Swarm's military ships. I would not lay claim to the Virho fleet defending your capital, however the Yuho reserve fleet and the remnants of the defeated Ayho fleet must submit to my authority unconditionally. Given these conditions, the Empire will defend Swarm territory with maximum ferocity, as if it were our own."
The praying mantis made a surprising expression. He turned his head on its side and looked at me meaningfully, as if not believing what he'd heard. I thought I'd overplayed my hand with my demands. However, it turned out the reason was something else entirely.
"Does the Prince not require the Swarm's land-based armies? He would be refusing the best Alpha Iseyek assault troops in this sector of the Universe, as well as the famous Gamma Iseyek space commandos. Does the Prince suppose that this war can be won in space alone without recapturing the planets taken by the aliens?"
It seemed that I had once again blurted out something stupid, so I had to correct myself by improvising on the fly:
"My friend, I presumed that the great Swarm warriors would only fight at maximum effectiveness under the command of a talented general of their own race, who knows their strong and weak points. I wanted to charge you with the mission of finding such a great commander. Popori de Cacha, set him free! I completely trust Triasss Zess and am prepared to release him."
I was afraid that my overly careful bodyguard would disobey my order; however, the chameleon opted not to put that part of his nature on display in the presence of a stranger. The six-and-a-half-foot-high lizard appeared next to the prisoner, carrying the keys to the prisoner's handcuffs. The only thing the chameleon allowed himself was to give me a slight, cautious warning:
"My Prince, Princess Marta will be extremely dissatisfied with this decision. Knowing your wife’s character, you should expect a severe reaction from her to such flagrant disregard for the rights of the Kingdom of Fastel to a fair trial. Should we not, in order to avoid excesses, relocate to one of Your Highness's ships?"
"Have there been issues with my release, Georg royl Inoky?" asked the captive, perking his ears.
"Yes, there have been certain complications. My spouse thinks that she may act independently and has other ideas about your fate, Triasss Zess. But I will try to smooth our family issues over. Popori de Cacha, open the handcuffs!"
The handcuffs fell off the praying mantis's enormous folded appendages. The huge insect stood up to his full ten feet, but stopped when he clocked his head on the ceiling. Both huge, compound eyes froze. I saw my own reflection in them hundreds of times over.
Standing change. Your relationship with Triasss Zess has improved.
Presumed personal opinion of you: +30 (trusting)
Standing change. Your relationship with the Iseyek race has improved.
Alpha Iseyek race opinion of you: +6 (indifferent)
Beta Iseyek race opinion of you: +2 (indifferent)
Gamma Iseyek race opinion of you: +2 (indifferent)
Right after that, another message came:
Standing change. Your relationship with Popori de Cacha has improved.
Presumed personal opinion of you: +12 (warm)
It seemed a bit strange that my constantly cautious bodyguard approved of the release of a dangerous prisoner, but the chameleon thought it was the right decision. At the same time, I was perplexed by a slightly related question. How do they do it? How do they show change in relationship to another player? Maybe I can do it too. I had already grown accustomed to dismissing the popup messages blocking my vision, so when one came up without me even looking at it, I froze for a moment and brought the window back, allowing it to temporarily obstruct my view.
Chance of expressing your reaction (unread message # 3254)
Change in personal opinion of Triasss Zess (choose an option: -5,-1, 0,+1,+5)
Change in faction opinion of Triasss Zess (choose an option: -1,0,+1, must be approved by the Head of the Orange House)
Change in Human race opinion of Triasss Zess (choose an option: -1,0,+1, must be approved by the Emperor)
Change in faction opinion of Iseyek race (inactive)
Change in Human race opinion of Iseyek race (inactive)
I skimmed the list of similar, dismissed messages containing more than three thousand skipped actions. Geez! Only the last three messages in the huge list were from me. The rest were describing events that I knew nothing about. It looked like my predecessor had been quite negligent in his duties and had simply been ignoring this function. Some messages that I saw were from a long time ago, but still had yet to be closed, even though the reaction time limit had long since passed. A message caught my eye that was dated last year about some argument with my wife:
Chance of expressing your reaction (unread message # 2751, expired).
Change in personal opinion of Marta royl Valesy ton Mesfelle-Kyle (choose an option: -15, -10, -5, 0)
Change in faction opinion of Marta royl Valesy ton Mesfelle-Kyle (choose an option: -3, -1, 0, must be approved by the Head of the Orange House)
Change in faction opinion of the Kingdom of Fastel (inactive)
Change in Empire opinion of the Kingdom of Fastel (inactive)
I did not want to dig through the Prince's dirty laundry, so I permanently deleted all the messages except the very last one. I did react to that one, increasing my opinion of the praying mantis by +5 and choosing the option to inform him about my decision. Triasss Zess bowed in reply, just like a person.
"My Prince, I would still recommend that you flee Marta the Harlot immediately and go to one of the ships of your personal squadron," said the bodyguard commander, reminding me.
"The shuttle dock is very near us. It's on this deck," offered Sergeant Tavar Prest, and I ordered him to lead the division there.
We passed through the cruiser's hallways without any resistance from the soldiers in gray uniforms observing us. We came out into a big hall with two identical, sleek shuttles. The sergeant walked up to the closest shuttle and knocked on the panel with his fist. With a hiss of escaping air, a part of the shuttle's chassis rose up, making room for the gangway to come out simultaneously. Tavar Prest looked over the people and nonpeople swarming around and said perplexedly:
"The shuttle has a capacity of 11, but it looks like we've got more..."
"What's the problem? We'll take both shuttles," I said, asking the soldiers in golden uniforms if one of them could pilot the other ship.
A few hands rose immediately, and I pointed randomly at a pudgy, but very agile technician. Inside the shuttle, the praying mantis had to fold himself in half to be able to fit into the hallway, but somehow the enormous insect was able ram himself into the shuttle, and just a minute later, both shuttles had left the dock.
It took considerable effort to hold back a cry of joy and amazement when a fabulously realistic map of space opened before my eyes. The game developers had done a first-rate job: both the bright orange sun and the multitude of statuesque ships looked surprisingly elaborate and well-rendered. Honestly, I had absolutely no idea how the mash-up of metallic objects and debris worked, but the others sitting in the shuttle obviously understood the map.
"Over there is where we sorted through the alien debris," remarked a young man in a pair of orange overalls, picking something out of the chaos.
"Well, because, back yesterday, they drove in a big transport ship and unloaded a whole space workshop from the Kingdom of Fastel. The whole rest of the day we spent cutting up debris and collecting everything of value," repeated the sturdy fellow with engineer's patches.
Tavar Prest's question bellowed out of the cockpit:
"My Prince, where shall I dock?"
With horror I realized that everyone else's conversations had gone silent, and they were all looking at me, expecting an answer. And I didn't really know what I was supposed to say! Popori de Cacha saved the situation, though. Seeing that I was in no rush to answer, the chameleon decided for me:
"Pilot, hold course to the Prince's yacht. The remaining ships in the squadron were damaged in the battle and cannot provide the proper level of security and comfort. Also, the yacht, Queen of Sin, is where the main fleet headquarters are located."
"I see. I'll set a course for Queen of Sin," confirmed the Sergeant.
The world began sharply turning around me. The nearby sun disappeared below my feet somewhere, the stars and ships reshifted around us. I had basically never had a problem with sea sickness, but at that moment I was having a hard time holding back the contents of my stomach. The lack of reliable visual landmarks and the too weak, barely perceptible artificial gravity had put my sense organs into a state of stupor. I even had to close my eyes to not look at all the craziness on the other side of the glass.
About a minute later, there followed a smooth jolt, and I opened my eyes. The shuttle was on the snow-white deck of a long, cigar-shaped ship. The robotic arms turned the shuttle around and pulled it into an open gate. I breathed in with relief. The flight was finally over! I even managed not to make a fool of myself in front of my subjects. I was one of the first out the door. As soon as the little pressure gage by the door changed color to green, I was off the shuttle. Then I stopped, skimming the information on the stately officer welcoming me:
Oorast Pohl, captain of the Queen of Sin
Achievements: Two-time winner of the Imperial Space Racing Champion in the Frigate Class. His mastery and loyalty to the Empire have been affirmed repeatedly. Approved to work with members of the upper aristocracy.
Standing: + 15
Presumed personal opinion of you: +55 (trusting)
The captain stopped five steps from me and took a low bow.
"I'm glad to welcome you on board your yacht, Prince."
"I'm glad to see you as well, Oorast, but now is not the time for pomp and circumstance. Marta will soon find out that I’ve taken a captive out from under her nose. So, give an order to all our ships: be prepared for departure at a moment’s notice."
Despite the irregularity of the order (or perhaps it was the other way around, because orders like this from the eccentric Georg were not a rarity at all), the captain was not surprised in the least and merely asked me to clarify one thing:
"Where will we be going, my Prince? We can jump to three warp-zones from here: either to Fastel, to the recharging station at Himora, or to the Outpost-12 zone, toward the Iseyek border.”
"Well, definitely not to Fastel," I smirked nervously. "Let's go to Himora."
"Prince Georg royl Inoky ton Mesfelle," said the praying mantis, addressing me. "Would it be permissible for me to take my leave and set off toward the Swarm to complete my assigned mission? Any ship in your fleet would be suitable. As soon as I can get to secure communication devices, Iseyek ships will be sent to any point in Sector Eight that you ask. I am also prepared to hand over all information on the aliens I have right now."
With these words, Triasss Zess pulled out his neck, finding a row of spiracle cracks in his thin, gray-green skin, one of which contained a round metal ball. Keeping a careful eye on the praying mantis's actions, Popori de Cacha reached jerkily for his weapon, but the assistant to the ambassador made no sudden movements and asked:
"Due to my temporary lack of small arms, I myself cannot reach the drive. Could one of you do it? It's just a normal memory crystal. It presents no threat to the Prince."
Nevertheless, the vigilant chameleon looked the ball over carefully, even scanning it with a shining plate before taking it in his sticky hands.
"My Prince, I can spare a frigate for the honorable Ambassador, the Pyro-14," offered Oorast Pohl, looking at something on a handheld screen. "It has full energy drives, so the frigate will be able to bring him home and quickly return to the main fleet."
I consented to this choice and parted ways with the huge praying mantis, who doubled himself up again to fit into the Human shuttle. After that, I ordered them to send a second shuttle back to Marta the Harlot to pick up my remaining people: the doctor, butler, and maybe some other people who were still there. Then I followed the captain, left the airlock and, trying not to be too surprised at what I'd seen, went up on a high-speed, gilded elevator, before arriving at the officer's deck of my own luxury yacht.
As I had already figured out from the captain’s words, it was here, on an unarmed, civilian starship, that Prince Georg kept the headquarters of his fleet. The only reason I could figure for what could generously be called a strange decision was that the facilities on the yacht were much more comfortable. I secretly admired the idiocy of that decision and, also, the fact that no one in the Empire had told the Prince how surprised they were at his choice of flagship for a military fleet. Two royally armed guards in gilded armor suits preemptively opened the doors before me, and I passed through into a huge control hall.
"Get me a detailed report on losses sustained and what remains in service and what condition it's in!" I proclaimed loudly, having barely come into the hall.
The nearest officer, a girl, sprung up from the seat at her desk and practically ran to hand me a flat, almost weightless tablet computer, then froze next to me at attention. I looked in some wonder at my quick subject after reading the information that popped up:
Nicole Savoia, lieutenant of the Star Fleet of the Orange House of the Empire
Achievements: Top of her class at the Academy in officer tactics
Standing: + 1
Presumed personal opinion of you: +4 (neutral)
And on top of this, the lieutenant was even nice just to look at. She was young, with dark hair and prim and proper facial features. The fact that she wasn't wearing makeup served to highlight her natural beauty. Under my overly analytical stare, Nicole got embarrassed and even blushed slightly. I chuckled bitterly to myself – they say you’ve got nothing to be afraid of, little girl… Your Prince Georg is a hopeless impotent... Not wanting to further embarrass my subject, I looked away, immersing myself in the rows of the table.
Prior to the fast-paced battle three days earlier with enemy ships, identified as standard Recluse class alien destroyer scouts, the Sector Eight fleet had two heavy assault cruisers, five light cruisers (including two cloaked cruisers), 11 destroyers, and sixty frigates. After the only 11-minute-long battle, all that remained were two light cruisers (one badly damaged), four destroyers, and 11 frigates.
"Play the recording of the last battle on the big screen! Pay attention, everyone!" I demanded, locking my eyes on the hologram that appeared in the center of the hall.
The battle began with a hussar charge by twenty high-speed frigates at one lone target. The alien ship threw open its gates, and a stream of drones started coming out. Jesus, what noobs! Instead of reducing the number of enemy combat drones, the small ships of my fleet were trying to get through the enemy's energy shield. After that, a heavy ship came, and it just got better from there. By that point, though, there were barely any ships from the initial frigate wave left. It looked really rough. The alien ship would let loose one cannon volley, and one frigate from my fleet would go down. After the alien ship had taken down the small fries, it concentrated on the big cruiser. It was destroyed after five or six hits from the terrifying cannon. The second heavy cruiser that had also come to the battle didn't survive much longer. If it hadn't been for the Kingdom of Fastel fleet coming to finally take the enemy ship down, the defeat would have been even more terrible. The recording of the battle ended. I ripped myself from the screen and, after looking around unhurriedly at my silent subjects, depressed after being made to watch their defeat, I said calmly:
"Even though that battle was reported to the rest of the Empire as a victory, let's face facts. That was nothing short of them bending us over and having their way with us. And now I want every one of you to tell me why we got our butts handed to us, and what conclusions we can take from that painful lesson. Nicole, you start."
She straightened up even more and said loudly and clearly, looking past me somewhere ahead of her:
"I have no idea, Your Highness! It's beyond my level of competency!"
I slowly walked around my unmoving subject before stopping directly in front of her and repeating, softer this time:
"First thing, at ease, lieutenant. Second, when speaking with someone, make eye contact. It's hard to have a conversation with your ear or the back of your head. Well, and third: although you are a junior staff officer, if you really have no idea about the reason for the battle going the way it did, you aren't in the right line of work. So, Nicole, let me have it. Don't be shy – tell me your conclusions."
She blushed even harder, stumbling a bit, then spoke out loudly, eyes on me:
"My Prince, when the battle was beginning, an unconscionable lack of coordination was allowed to take hold on our side. Our second most important gun, the heavy cruiser Gentleman of the Night, only appeared on the battlefield after our first heavy cruiser, Flamboyant, had already essentially been taken out of commission. Thus, at no point did the alien ship have to fight against our two main ships at once."
"Excellent observation, lieutenant. You've proven that it's not for nothing that you work at my headquarters. In an hour, I want you to make me a detailed report on the timing of our ships' arrivals to battle position and a conclusion about why this inconformity in action between our two main ships occurred. So, who wants to talk next?"
After a few seconds of silence, a massive, chubby man with space corporal badges stepped forward.
"My Prince, allow me to speak. What I have to say may come across as direct and rude, but if panic hadn't taken hold, leading to six ships leaving the battle immediately in the second phase, the outcome would have been better."
"What was the reason for the panic?" I wondered, turning toward the corporal.
"The main reason was the heavy losses sustained in the first phase of the battle. Our fleet lost a third of its ships in four minutes," he said quietly, his eyes pointed down. "The second reason was Your Highness's commands. They were not always appropriate to the situation at hand in the battle, and were nowhere near the caliber required to create the ideal conditions for maintaining discipline."
Everyone gasped at the space corporal's insolence. It looked like the staff officers gathered there were expecting me to rain down wrath. But, instead, I stated loudly and clearly:
"Popori de Cacha, there’s no need to kill this person! It took a lot of bravery to say what he said, and he said exactly the words I was hoping to hear."
As I had assumed, the commander of my bodyguards appeared directly behind the space corporal. The chameleon pulled his blade away and stepped aside, returning to invisibility as he went. God damn is that effective! The staff officers, already walking a tightrope in the Prince's presence before, started breathing in turn. When I spoke, everyone paid an inordinate amount of attention.
"Getting offended by the truth would be a dumb move on my part. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I too have never before come face to face with an enemy so fierce, so I lost heart, like many of you. However, I have already taken this new information into account and come to my own conclusions, and I promise everyone present that it will never happen again. Now I want the same from each of you. It is very important to me that you understand that this hard lesson was not in vain. I await your comments, advice and observations on the battle. You can relax. There will not be any punitive measures from me today.”
At first they were shy, but the officers gradually gathered more courage and started speaking out. The last to speak was the head of the staff officers, the gray-haired Admiral Kiro Sabuto, who said:
"My Prince, the error was due to our initial underestimation of the enemy. We should have joined up with the Kingdom of Fastel's fleet initially, before attacking the alien ship. We didn't want to share the victor's laurels and we paid dearly for that."
"That is partially true, my friend. But I promise everyone present that our fleet would have been capable of taking out the extraterrestrials' ship, if it hadn’t been for our numerous errors. Our frigates were just screwing around. Instead of destroying the many drones to reduce the amount of damage the enemy could do, they tried to do a job they weren't made for and, for some reason, shot at the main target. The light cruisers didn't go down from just one hit. No one was stopping them from fleeing the battle. There were about twenty seconds between shots from the enemy ship. So why then were our cruisers dropping like flies?! It’s plain to see that it was due to weak preparation of our captains and commanders. They clearly haven’t learned to react quickly to changing combat conditions. The heavy cruisers took a long time to be destroyed. Their energy shields held out for a few strikes. Note that some frigates and destroyers tried to support the cruisers' shields. If these “healers” had not remained occupied until that moment and those that remained would not have died under attack from enemy drones, we would have been able to save the cruisers. Now, pay attention to what happens at 3:43. Don't tell me no one noticed something off?”
The hologram operator rolled the section of the battle clip a few times, as I ordered. The officers present remained silent. Finally, Nicole shyly postulated:
"It didn't shoot?"
"That's right! The alien ship didn't shoot, despite the fact that it had had enough time to recharge its cannon. Analyze all recordings and find me the reason why the enemy was not able to shoot. If we can figure that out, we'll have the key to defeating the aliens..."
Standing change. Your relationship with the Empire Military Faction has improved.
Present Empire Military faction opinion of you: -7 (mistrustful)
The message arrived unexpectedly and threw me off a bit. I stumbled through the middle of the phrase. I wonder who here did that? It was impossible to figure out. There were too many players around me. But, in any case, it was pleasant news: my speech had been judged worthy by those present.
"My Prince, what are our further instructions?" inquired Admiral Sabuto.
I noticed that the officers were listening avidly, and trying to speak confidently and clearly.
"You all understand that we need repair and reinforcements. The Kingdom of Fastel's fleet helped us in that battle, but it will soon be going back home, and we will not be going with them. We are going to the Himora station, where we'll be sending our ships in for repair, undergoing several training sessions and expecting reinforcements."
"Will more ships be joining our fleet soon?" asked the admiral, not hiding his joy at the good news.
"They absolutely will, admiral. The frigate, Pyro-14 has just departed with the mission of bringing us reinforcements. And I am preparing first thing to deal with the specific problem of reinforcing our battered fleet. So, give our whole fleet the order to prepare for departure. In exactly 10 minutes, we'll be leaving through the warp jump to Himora.”
End of Preview
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Release date: December 15 2015