Текст книги "The Clan"

Автор книги: D. Rus

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Chapter Two

 

F rom the Analytics Department's report made at the AlterWorld Corporation's emergency board meeting.

 

Subject: Control loss trends in gaming content.

 

Ladies and gentlemen! About a month ago, we were entrusted with the task of looking into the reasons behind the virtual world's ignoring the major changes made in the 2124 patch. As you probably know, we were planning on introducing the new class that we'd all been looking forward to: Berserker. After a period of exhaustive and adequate testing and despite the patch's faultless performance upon its launch, the new class is still unavailable to players. All other minor and secondary improvements have been functioning without a glitch.

As we got busy collecting and processing the data, the problem went from bad to worse. The new server patch 2271 containing two new High Circle spells has failed , as has Patch 2312 that contained the urgently developed Quick Death ability. The virtual world has simply ignored them.

We have created a classification of the changes we've introduced in regards to their globality and their physical impact on a 1 to 10 scale. Which shows that if a month ago AlterWorld rejected all exterior manipulation at level 9, we are now unable to introduce the same even at level 6. If we extrapolate this data to the future, we'll be able to say quite confidently that within the next three months we risk losing all control over the game content even to the extent of changing the color of a roadside stone.

Ladies and gentlemen! The virtual world is rejecting our intrusion. It's becoming independent. And if we add to these facts the defection of AI 311 combined with the continuing digitalization of the players and the world's independence from the servers even after their being physically cut off, our status becomes painfully clear. We are no more its creators and guardians. Very soon our function will be limited to that of a doorman. We offer access and let them in.

 

J. Howards, Director of the Analytics Department

 

Endorsement:

Confidentiality level AA.

 

To Howards:

Please find a way to neutralize the above phenomenon or at least decelerate it. Replace all hardware clusters. Use reserve copies to recreate parts of the world. Fractionize global updates if necessary. Do whatever it takes in order to keep our grip on the world for as long as is humanly possible.

 

A. Lichman Jr., Board member

 

* * *

I took Lieutenant Brown on his offer and did a quick corpse run to finally collect my stuff. My way now lay to the Drow capital where every Drow clan had their own quarters and Prince's residence.

Time was an issue. It was almost ten in the evening. At four a.m. we had to create a raid group and begin distributing buffs and supplies.

Frag had given me two hours to get a clear answer from the Drow. He'd also given me a teleport clearance to the Dark Lands complete with the services from Porthos, a Wizard and the clan's cabbie.

Virtually every clan did their best to level a few transporters. The Wizards had a special teleport skill branch. Few would willingly become cabbie men, which made such volunteers worth their weight in gold. A boring skill but extremely well-paid. You could easily earn three hundred gold a day just by standing in the city square offering your services to take anyone anywhere in AlterWorld. The branch started by opening personal portals followed by group, raid and stationary ones. Admittedly, you had to waste a year of your time to properly level this one-sided char that miserably lacked in all other respects: his talent points were inadequate and you had to sacrifice battle spells to portal leveling.

Porthos didn't really resemble his book prototype. He was puny and constantly angry. He sat in his office next to the portal hall providing transportation for those who needed it. He must have had a busy day because, as I approached, he was choking on the contents of yet another vial of mana elixir.

He squeezed the last drop into his mouth and cringed with disgust, suppressing a belch. "I'd pay a million gold to anyone who'd make a cinnamon-free version of this crap. Otherwise I'll be the first player capable of puking, if you know what I mean."

Then he noticed me. "Where to? Drow capital? Shit. It's a middle portal, over a thousand mana. I don't think I can take it for much longer!"

He looked out into the corridor. "Jazel... er... Jazelwolf! What's that for a name! Come on, get me the duty enchanter from the guards' room. I need him to send me some mana. I've had enough of this swill, it makes me see triple. It's your job now to mix it with the invisibility elixir."

He turned back to me. "Ready? I'll send you by individual portal."

He froze, searching for the right spell, then tensed up and mumbled it, waving his hands about like a hypnotist.

Teleport spell alert! Destination: the Original City. Accept: Yes/No. 10... 9... 8...

 

The portal popped open. I found myself standing on a massive portal platform in the middle of the the Drow capital's main square. The first things I noticed were the tall spires of the Royal residence on the hill surrounded by expensive trading houses—Gothic-style with fancy shop signs. The place was busy, teleports popping in and out. I caught a few surprised stares. A High Elf is not a common sight in a Dark city—a bit like an African in the Moscow metro. At least no one attempted to challenge me. My interface had highlighted my friendly status, puzzling some of them while putting others' minds at ease.

I didn't have much time. Still, my eye kept being drawn to a row of important-looking buildings sporting large signs. AlterWorld Bank. OlderBank. Drow Bank. Now that was a thought. I had to be on the Olders' black list as it was, and after our upcoming mission they would circle my name in red. As it was, all my financial interests, including the texting contract and Internet search, were concentrated in our enemy's hands. How dumb could that be? I opened up Wiki, searching for bank rankings. Drow Bank was a private shop, ten million bucks security capital, the sixth biggest in the virtual world. Nothing to sniff at. That was it. Time to shift my capital to the Dark side, LOL.

I pushed the bank's door. A bell tinkled. A well-mannered nonentity took me to an available teller. I opened an account and transferred all twenty thousand of my remaining cash to it. After a moment's thought, I auctioned off all of the remaining tobacco supplies which by then had to have reached or nearly reached the top price. That was another eight grand. I asked about their safe deposit boxes—they did offer them, insured up to a hundred grand, no instances of theft or robbery as yet. Very well, that could wait. It wasn't as if I had too much stuff. All my earthly possessions could easily fit into a bag or my room at the Vets'.

In order to connect to third-party services I had to go upstairs to a department that proudly bore the name of RealService. Their full package worked out even cheaper than the Olders'. They were apparently in the process of setting up a video stream enabling one to watch pre-recorded TV programs and real-world films. The mind boggles.

I spied another sign next to it. RealShop. The name triggered a complex domino effect in my memory. I blushed. Damned if I didn't owe somebody a favor.

I walked over to a respectable-looking salesman, his face reflecting his eagerness to help me solve any problem, provided the price was right.

I pointed at the sign. "Is this what I think it is?"

The man gave me a dignified nod. "Most likely."

"I love your sense of humor. Basically, I need some information about a certain lady. I need to know if she is still employed at the same place. And if she is, I'd like to have a small gift delivered to her."

"That's not a problem. Order processing is twenty gold. The rest is entirely up to you."

Excellent. I strained my memory trying to remember her job title and the company name. My defective real-life memory had failed to preserve her phone number. I had to give them their due: after some initial data processing and a phone call, the worker confirmed that Olga was still employed by Chronos. She was expected at work tomorrow morning.

"What would you prefer to give her?" the salesman asked, flexing his fingers over his virtual keyboard.

"A bunch of flowers, a really nice one," I said with pride.

The salesman cocked his head, studying me. "How long has it been since you've given anyone flowers? Here, we don't operate in generic terms of 'I'd like that bunch of roses over there' or 'I need a few nice carnations'. We work personally with each client. We're able to process any request worth any unlimited amount of money. A million, if necessary. We can stud every petal with diamonds, encase the stems in platinum and present them in a Ming dynasty vase..."

He couldn't have cut me down to size any better had he tried. "No diamonds, please. Rhinestones, why not. Preferably in moderation. How much will it cost?"

He paused. "A hundred twenty gold a flower. Plus ten percent commission."

"Good. I'll need twenty-one of those."

"Accepted. Anything else?"

"I'd like some champagne, please. Demi sec."

"Anything in particular?"

My memory struggled, forcing a single name to the surface. "Veuve Clicquot."

The salesman nodded his understanding. I seemed to have redeemed myself in his eyes a bit.

" White, demi sec. Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin. Nine hundred gold. If the lady is someone very special, I'd suggest Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame Brut. Unique 1998 vintage. Eight thousand gold a bottle."

My inner greedy pig hiccupped and slid down the wall. I lovingly supported him by the elbow. "I think the lady prefers demi sec," I told him firmly.

"Very well. Anything else?"

"A quick message would be nice."

"No problem. I'll take it down."

"Hi Olga. This is Max. Flowers and champagne, as promised. Thanks a lot for the tip. It worked. Laith, High Elf, Level 52. That's it."

He nodded. "With delivery and our commission, that'll be three thousand nine hundred. Your order will be delivered tomorrow between 10 and 12 a.m. Anything else?"

I concentrated, skimming the virtual mall pages, then created a large gourmet hamper for my Mom. Her favorite chocolates, some caviar, smoked sturgeon and foie gras. I racked my brains trying to remember Mom's favorite treats that she normally couldn't afford. I felt no regret whatsoever shelling out another two grand. My inner greedy pig ouched but chose not to interfere.

I checked the clock. Half an hour had disappeared up its own backside. I had to move it. I asked him to email me the customer service contacts, bid a hasty farewell and hurried out.

I had barely taken a few paces.

"You, Snow White! Wait up a sec," a voice said behind my back.

Was he speaking to me? I didn't care. It's not as if I had friends here. Without slowing down, I kept moving along the square, searching for someone sufficiently official-looking to ask my way to the residence of the House of Night.

I could hear a few people catching up with me. I swung round, just in time to parry a hand reaching for my shoulder. "Problems?"

A huge Level 92 Barbarian gave me a gap-toothed smile. "Are you always so quick? We just want to know what a Snow White like yourself is doing in our town. You look nice and friendly enough. As a matter of fact, we were about to set off for your part of the world. Ever heard of the Dark Hunter achievement? I'm actually one blond scalp short of it," he guffawed, eyeing my crown.

"What's the problem? Can't you dye your own hair? I'm sure your friends will be more than happy to help you with the scalp thing."

He frowned. "No need to be so vocal, buddy. What if we go outside the gates and you can help them. We're not asking you for much, are we? What's fifty deaths between friends?"

"Guys, please," I said. "Have you boozed your brain cells away, starting a punchup in town?"

The hoods didn't like it. They stepped in my way. How stupid could they be?

"No violence within the city limits!" Attracted by the brawl, a patrol was already scurrying toward us. The chief guard's practiced stare brushed over me. He lowered his head in respect. The Princess' Mark seemed to be working. He peered at my opponents. His face twitched. "Gont the Barbarian! This is the second verbal warning for disturbing public order. Another one, and you'll have to appear in court. The decision is final. Dismissed!"

The Barbarian glared at me.

Warning! Gont the Barbarian has added you to his personal enemies list. +5 to Fame!

 

Would you like to add Gont to your list? Killing a personal enemy will add +20 to Fame. However, being killed by your personal enemy will result in your losing 40 Fame points. Adding limit: 1 person every 24 hours. Potential trophy: the loser's ear as part of the Avenger achievement.

 

So! I didn't even know we had this sort of option. In any case, I didn't need it at the moment. If his kick was picking enemies fifty levels weaker than himself, he was welcome to it. Decline.

He screwed up his face. "Chicken!"

"If you say so, hero. Dismissed!" I turned to the chief guard. "Sergeant? I need to see Princess Ruata of the House of Night. It's pretty urgent."

Hearing the name, the guard jumped to attention and all but saluted me, "One moment!"

He produced a crystal artifact and spoke into it, swallowing the words. It looked as if NPCs didn't have built-in communication channels the way players did.

After a brief wait, a teleport popped open nearby, letting out a Drow mage. He nodded to the guards, then turned to me. "Our Lady will see you. Are you ready?"

Not bothering to wait for a reply, he laid his hand on my shoulder and opened a new portal.

Teleport spell alert! Destination: the House of Night, Small Castle. Accept: Yes/No.

 

I accepted.

A sonic boom hit my eardrums. I found myself in the portal hall of the Small Palace. Nice digs. Frescoed ceilings, stucco moldings, carved wood and gold everywhere—and lots of it. I dreaded the thought of what the Big Palace might be like.

We hurried along mosaic corridors, the palace guards saluting as we approached. Finally, we stopped by the highest carved doors I'd seen in my life. The mage froze, expectant, then stepped aside, having received a silent command that only he could hear. He motioned me to enter. I stared at the enormous doors, not really knowing how to push or pull them.

I didn't have time to lose face. Noiselessly, the doors swung open, revealing a huge throne room. Massive columns lined the central passage which was tiled with opaque stone speckled with gems and gold dust. It led to a pedestal with two thrones upon it. The bigger and heavier one stood empty. Princess Ruata sat on the smaller one.

I approached, lowering my head. My heart was jumping out of my chest just like it had been when we'd first kissed. I'd already forgotten the effect she produced in me: a mind-blowing cocktail of pheromones and non-verbal messages. The aroma of wild strawberries enveloped me; I swallowed and, unconsciously, made an extra step forward wishing to bury my face in her hair. This wasn't right, surely! I pulled myself together, put on my best friendly face and looked up at her.

Bang. My heart sank to my stomach. Bang. Ecstatic, my inner greedy pig fell flat on his back. She was something, really.

The Princess' eyes were upon me, moist and glowing. An understanding smile fluttered across her lips. She spoke first.

"Be welcome, my savior. It has taken you a while to visit the poor prisoner."

How's that for pure sarcasm!

She rose and descended a couple of steps to my own level, showing the ultimate respect reserved for the most welcome guests. I heaved a sigh and surrendered to her charms. Resisting them was beyond me.

She gave me a studying look. "You haven't wasted your time. You're stronger now. Even here, we have heard about your exploits..."

Fame level 3, I thought.

Her eyes widened. "You bear the Mark of the Fallen One! Have you met him? Did he grace you with his touch?"

At that point, I finally awoke from my stupor. I flexed my neck which still ached, for some unknown reason, where it had met with the sword of Darkness. "If you count a sword stroke as a touch—well, you could say he did indeed."

She shook her head in disbelief, then clapped her hands. In a blink of an eye, a dozen servants had laid a table for two. She motioned me to a high-backed chair.

"Be my guest. Do partake from these fine viands and tell me where you met the Fallen One. I have the right to be curious: I am the priestess of the Dark Temple, the only one in our town. Any manifestation of the Fallen One is sacred to me."

I filled our wine glasses and took a swig, both to show my respect and to wet my throat. "Actually, it was one of the reasons why I'm here."

I didn't want to dwell too much on it. Still, she used all her vast arsenal of persuasion to drag the story out of me. She'd utter little shrieks of horror in all the right places, covering her mouth with her perfectly manicured little hand; then she'd lean against me, as if unwilling to miss some detail, accidentally revealing her already-bulging cleavage. Her mind, though, seemed to work like clockwork as she directed the conversation with well-pointed questions.

"Ruata, please!" I finally begged. "No need to massage my libido. I'm going to tell you everything, anyway. Besides, I have a Paladin girlfriend. You saw us together, didn't you?"

With a chuckle, she shrugged my question off. "A man can have as many women as he wants as long as he can protect them, provide for them and make them happy."

I zoned out, contemplating her words. I wasn't really ready for any kind of relationship. I wasn't even capable of protecting myself, considering I'd only been extricated from the torturer's hook less than three hours ago.

Having said that, where was the Prince of the House, their true protector and provider?

She caught me glancing at the empty throne. Grief clouded her face. "The Prince is dead. He died defending the Second Temple against the Undead of the clans of Light. They'd cut deep into our lands then. But we failed to keep the Temple..."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Pardon me? What do you mean, he's dead? Don't your warriors respawn after battle?"

She gave me an unhurried nod. "The Fallen One is kind to his children. He nearly always grants us the chance to resurrect. But he gets weaker with every perished temple or priest. Recently, he's often left the dead warriors in his palace halls. Four of them didn't come back from the Second Temple battle. For us, it's a lot. The House of Night has no ruler now. That, too, has weakened our position..."

I had no idea that NPCs could die for good. Wonder if it was the developers' smart idea or some software glitch? Otherwise, in another ten years there'd be none of them left. "Why won't you elect a new Prince?"

She tensed up like a puma about to strike. Locking my eyes with her mesmerizing stare, she barely leaned toward me, "Would you like to take his place?"

New Quest alert! The Prince of the House of Night.

 

The great Prince had been slain in battle defending the Temple. Are you ready to accept the burden of power and the responsibility for the lives of thousands? Prove you're worthy of taking the Prince's throne!

Execution conditions:

Clan leader (met)

Castle owner (not met)

Priest of the Fallen One (not met)

Fame Level 5 (not met)

Level above that of Princess Ruata (current level: 171) (not met)

Be in favor with the Princess (met)

 

Wow. That was serious. I looked up at the girl. She was greedily waiting for the answer. I swallowed, trying to concentrate. "Ruata, you... I mean, all of you... do you need a proper Prince or just someone to look good on the throne? If I become your Prince—will it give me control over your clan? Will I have access to the treasury? Will I be able to give orders to the cutthroats? Will I have the right to make my own decisions?"

She closed her eyes, pleased with my reply. "You're asking the right things. No, we're not looking for a lapdog to sit on an embroidered cushion. Our clan is desperate for a ruler to control it. With full access to the army, the treasury and full control over the clan members' lives. Including that of one particular Princess."

She looked up at me, defiant. Her nostrils quivered, her chest rising with excitement. Holy mama mia! So many goodies with one free offer! What was the catch?

My inner greedy pig was already banging the Accept button with his clammy little foot. The Princess' undoubted charms were pushing me in the same direction. I lingered, trying to resist their pressure enough make my own decision. I shut my eyes, checking all the options and looking for the potential catch. I didn't see any. I accepted the quest.

I lowered my head, "I thank thee, Princess Ruata, for deeming me worthy of the task. I shall do all I can to prove you've made the right choice."

She gave me a gracious nod. "And I thank thee, Laith the Immortal. Your name and that of your clan are both synonymous with our House. I believe this to be a good omen. Hurry up! Our Council had insisted I make the same offer to four more heroes. Go and be the best!"

You couldn't but live up to this woman's expectations. I nodded, wiping my inner greedy pig's drooling mug. The PM inbox flashed with a message from Dan. Max? Any developments? Assembly in two and a half hours. We march out at o-three hundred. You'd better move it.

I jumped up. Three hundred? I thought you said five a.m.?

Sorry bud, our mistake. We forgot you didn't know our insider speak. We never mention the real time of the raid. To calculate it, you need to deduct one to seven hours depending on the day of the week. Basically, we need you here!

The Princess gave me a knowing look. "You've got to go, haven't you?"

"I'm afraid I have. Listen, I'm really sorry-"

"Don't be. Just make sure you punish your enemies well. Loot their castles, then raze them to the ground. Take their gold and their best women. This is how it has always been. This is the path of the strong, even though it's not the only one. As for your request..."

I froze, waiting for her to decide.

"I will give you some warriors. Fifty cutthroats. Our elite. But... They don't know you. Besides, they are too powerful a force to hand over to you lightly. Which is why I'm going with you."

I stared at her, speechless. She gave me a knowing wink. "I'm not going to be in your way, don't worry. Also, I'd love to meet this Paladin lady of yours. Men have no idea of how to choose their concubines properly."