Shadow Seer (Rogue Merchant Book #3): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (english reading book TXT) 📗

“The procedural AI works in mysterious ways; it’s hard to figure out its logic,” Tao replied. “But if we can’t see it, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.”

“I’m not sure that the House of Darkness is the strongest side,” Peacemaker grumbled. “Well, they’re the kings in our lands, I give you that. Cardeval will be theirs. But what next?”

He stared at the map, frowning, and pointed at the southeast of the continent studded with icons of clan castles.

“The Golden Fairs. Phoenix and their lapdogs. That’s a tall order! If things start getting real, they’ll mobilize thousands of players and call in their allies like the Northerners.”

“The Golden Fairs are the key to everything,” Mirgus agreed, putting a circle of brass shield-bearers around the aforementioned city. “The center of the continent, a trading hub. The Reds won’t submit to Ananizarte.”

“They won’t, but alone, they have no hope of winning,” Tao said, flashing his teeth. “As for Northerners...those carebears will have their hands full with other problems soon.”

“So it’s war,” Tentacle concluded.

“Yes. Tell everyone to log in at six. We’re going to attack Chaos’ castle. Gorgons, Goethia, maybe Heretics, and Diamant’s brood are with us. Chaosites will have two hundred people or so, I guess.”

“We’ll storm their castle? That’s a bold entrance, boss! Isn’t this too dangerous?” Tentacle asked. “Maybe we should think a little? What if it’s going to be like with Eyre and the Pandas?”

“It’s not over yet with Eyre; the quest is still active,” Tao replied, donning his mask of cold inscrutability. “And our strategy is simple. Either we join the strongest side and kill the weak, or we’ll get killed ourselves. Is this clear?”

Chapter 8

“I BROUGHT YOU fresh meat!”

I didn’t like that phrase, and I liked the nasty laughter that followed even less. I pushed against the coffin lid with my hands and feet, doing my best to force it open. The soulless system informed me, This action requires 50 Strength. Your current Strength is 19.

In the meantime, somebody lifted my coffin, heavily tilting it, and carried it off somewhere while cursing. A blow against a solid surface informed me that my journey was over, and the porters’ footsteps grew distant—apparently, they went to fetch another locker. Not far from me, Thrainul was excitedly speaking with a person who had a shrill, high-pitched voice. Going by the fragments of their conversation, they were negotiating.

“...teen. Violent ones!”

“...promised three hundred and fifty, you rotten piece of meat!”

“...twenty, no more than that.”

This situation was starting to annoy me. Had Thrainul decided to double his profits by first taking my money and then selling me to God only knew whom? Never! Seething with anger, I started tossing and turning, barely managing to find Aelmaris’ grip. My savior flashed blue, illuminating the area inside the coffin. It was so cramped that I was scared of burning myself. Carefully, I pressed the sword to the lid of the locker, destroying its durability, and burst out of the charred boards.

Strange bandaged figures staggered back from the circle of bright light emanated by Aelmaris, covering their eyes with their hands. The glow outlined the shore, black water, and a round-bellied barge moored to a long berth and packed full of “coffins.” Fifteen or so “mummies”—I didn’t have a better name for the creatures almost completely wrapped in dirty bandages—were unloading boxes from the boat, passing them between each other. As the blue glow of Aelmaris fell upon them, they started moving, and I saw that several of them were wielding catching nets and long jagged fishing hooks.

“I did say they were violent!” Thrainul’s companion said. He was a lanky guy wearing chainmail, a grey cloak, and a captain’s cap, also bandaged from head to foot. “Three hundred and twenty, Thrainul, and it’s a deal!”

“What?! That’s not right!” the zwerg exclaimed, wide-eyed at my dramatic entry. “Rocky!”

“Yes, Cap! I think we’ve mixed up the boxes!” I heard the Gravekeeper’s familiar voice coming out from the barge. “This is our lost boy! I guess we left an empty coffin in the cargo hold!”

I couldn’t understand anything. The bandaged walking mummies were getting closer, steel and nets in their hands, but Thrainul leaped forward and wedged himself between us.

“Stop! This isn’t your client!” he yelled. “This is my passenger. We got him here by accident! An honest mistake, it happens...”

“Jeez, talk about making an impression,” he told me quietly. “Where have you been? I did tell you to come back in three hours...”

The mummies put their weapons away, laughing and swearing profusely, and returned to their work. I had already realized that they were local NPCs who, like Rocky, belonged to the Gravekeepers faction. By the way, he had already left the boat and stood next to me. I couldn’t see anything under the bandages on his face, but judging by the sparkle in his only eye, he was grinning.

“Welcome to the Hole, my young friend!” he said. “Put your flaming sword away. It hurts our eyes. We’re not used to such bright light. What do you have there, a spell? Do you want to sell it?”

“No,” I replied curtly, putting the sword back into its sheath. The incident with my emergence was over, and things were back on track: Thrainul and the mummy in a captain’s cap were counting the coffins, cursing and haggling, and the other Gravekeepers resumed piling them up on the shore next to a large stone staircase cut right into the bedrock. Upstairs, in the dim light, I could make out the outline of some buildings illuminated by a greenish glow. I shivered; it was unusually cold there, and rare snowflakes danced in the air.

“Do you want to take a walk around the Tomb, smoothskin?” Rocky let out a coarse laugh, noticing my stare. “We have an hour before Thrainul