The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (ebook reader for comics .TXT) 📗

After failing the Watchers exam, they had dropped off my radar. To my surprise, both former Liberty recruits had joined some clan and flaunted pale yellow nicknames, indicating low karma. They had been violating justice. They were on the brink of becoming red, which would make even visiting kingdoms risky. Guards would attack them on sight, forcing them to wear cloaks of disguise all the time.

“Why are you ruining your karma?” I asked them directly. “Are you PKing people? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“There was a small skirmish, had to get our hands dirty,” Svenn sighed.

“No biggie, we’ll wash it clean!” Diareus dismissed me, unconcerned.

“So you decided to join a clan?”

“Yeah, now we have our own private Idaho,” Diareus winked at me.

They were members of Gentlemen Bastards. Yikes. I opened his kill rating. It wasn’t exactly impressive, although considering that ten days ago, the clan had been all but dead... They had ten active members, counting Helga and a few other failed Liberty recruits in their ranks. The last few kills gave me pause. The victims were part of our alliance, they belonged to one of the carebear clans renting Wild Lands territory from the Watchers.

“So Panther got you to join?” I asked, looking at the five-pointed red star on their black tabards. “Why are you killing people on the alliance lands? If you keep it up, they might put you on the wanted list.”

“They started it,” Diareus said. “We were the first to enter the instance, and they started to get pissed, saying it’s their spot.”

“They thought that if they outnumbered us, we were toast,” Svenn grinned. “Well, we had to politely explain to them the difference between winners and losers.”

“So you had a falling out over a dungeon,” I chuckled. “And that’s why you racked up twenty-three kills on the alliance lands?”

“The dungeon’s inside the kingdom, it’s not Watchers territory,” Svenn emphasized every word. “As for kills in the alliance lands, well, we followed them. Things got a little heated, I grant you this.”

“But then, why make excuses? We killed them because we can,” he continued. “For us, it’s the point of the game. If they were a little bit more polite, nobody would be hurt.”

“And we don’t care about the Watchers anymore. Let them try and hunt us, if they want,” Diareus chimed in. “It’s fun!”

I shook my head, unconvinced. Players who refused to submit to authority figures and considered PvP the main goal of Sphere were bound for the Wild Field, swelling the ranks of clans such as Nonames. A strong landed alliance would sooner or later kick them out of their territory, as soon as they started messing with them.

“Panther wants to talk to you,” said Svenn. “Here he is, by the way.”

Captain Panther had decided to stay in Eyre, becoming my neighbor. I had stumbled into him in Karn’s inn a couple of times, also often meeting him in the arena. Panther was a warrior through and through. In battle, he completely lived up to his nickname: cold-blooded, extremely fast, and dangerous. He even moved with somewhat feline grace. He was also always very polite, wickedly well-spoken. Against him, I had never won more than two fights out of five.

“Hey Cat!” Panther cut to the chase from the get-go. “So you’re now in charge of trade in the Watchers? It’s you who goes to the Bazaar, arranges transportation, right? Will there be a delivery soon?”

Upon getting a confirmation, he continued.

“We want to work with you. What kind of transporter will you order, a barque?”

“A nave. We have a lot of cargo this time.”

“All the better. A coaster’s half-empty when it leaves here, anyway. Could you grab some of our stuff and sell it at the Bazaar? We’ll give you a cut.”

The plan was simple. Delivering goods on a flying ship cost a lot, so moving small cargo was unprofitable. Everyone wanted to get in with a big order to save on the logistics. Green, apparently, had used it a lot — the clan paid for the transporter, and there was enough space in the cargo hold to smuggle something “on the side” — for a fee, of course. Just like in real life. I was certain the Watchers’ leaders knew about those small tricks well enough, but chose to let it slide. But what kind of cargo would it be? I opened the contract linked by Panther. Silver bullions, copper, some arroundour, thunderwood... Common resources found in the northwest of Dorsa. I got why they wanted to send it to the Bazaar: the Eyre market was chock full of such stuff, they’d never get rid of it there.

“Hmm, Panthy. Where did you get it? No way I’ll believe that you took up mining.”

“We happened upon it,” Panther grumbled. “So, will you take it from Eyre? We’ll give you ten percent, fair and square.”

I checked the kill rating once more, cross-referencing the dates, the kills, and the loot. Yep, just as I had guessed, the newly minted Gentlemen Bastards had robbed a trade caravan of the carebears they had grappled with because of the dungeon. It looked like there were lots of hard feelings on their side.

“You just happened... OK, I will,” I said, accepting the contract. “Hey, those are our allies, why did you attack them?”

“They’re too cocky! I’m actually thinking of arranging a lockdown for them. Fat chance they’ll ever get through the border again!”

“Watch out, you’ll end up in the KOS list,” I warned him.

“We won’t get caught,” said Captain confidently. “And Komtur won’t stick up for carebears.”

And then, it dawned upon me. Carebears, resources, caravans, transport, logistics, Bazaar... Actually, that idea had been gestating in my head for a long time now, but it was my conversation with Panther that finally made it take shape.

“Hmm. A lockdown,