Текст книги "AlterWorld"

Автор книги: Dmitri Rus

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I patiently waited for Taali to wipe away her tears and only then waved to Eric. He stood a short way off, shifting from one foot to the other, unwilling to be in the way of our whispered secrets. He might look like a gorilla on steroids but he had a lot of tact. Great guy. I poked his shoulder with a fist and whispered, unable to contain myself, "Thanks, bro."

Eric looked perplexed. "What for?"

"For everything. What would you say to us meeting in the Three Little Pigs, say, tomorrow night? We have reason to celebrate."

"Why not?"

"Excellent. There's another thing we'll have to discuss. Taali here plans to go perma. But before she can do that, she has to pay off a few debts in real life."

"You need money, then? I've been meaning to buy a few things but they can wait, I suppose. How much do you need?"

"Thanks a lot, but that's not what I meant. These aren't the kind of debts you pay in gold. This kind of stuff you pay in lead."

Eric wrinkled his forehead. His eyebrows rose. He looked at Taali. With a sniffle, the girl nodded.

Eric shook his head in disbelief. "Can you ever do anything normal? You can't just sit quiet, can you? Shit. I hope it's not contagious. Never mind. We'll talk about it tomorrow. There's our cloak and dagger coming to see you again. He can't live without you these days."

Dan looked pleased with himself. He strode toward us, confident and straight-backed, like a baron crossing his castle courtyard. Then he turned to a good-looking woman nearby, pointing at his non-existent wrist watch and waving an open hand in the air. Apparently, he wasn't going to stay with us for long.

He gave me a firm handshake and gallantly bowed his head to Taali. "Great job. It went like clockwork. Those two are stripped to their underpants. Shame we won't see them again. So, Mister Robin Hood and his merry men, are you happy with the pickings?"

I lowered my eyes playing the poor penniless Jew. The show didn't fool him. Even my inner greedy pig didn't know the state of my finances as well as that guy did.

He smiled knowingly and shook his head. "Both you and your bear can keep the gear as promised. As a sign of our appreciation. I've got something else for you, too."

He held out a recognizable ring engraved with the Vets' crest. I peered at its characteristics.

Personal ring bearing the Clan's logo and an inscription: Clan Friend.

Eric's eyes widened. Apparently, they didn't offer this sort of thing lightly.

Dan read the silent question in my eyes. "I told you we could appreciate a good turn. Now we can return the favor. When you need help, just show this to a Vet. They might not move mountains but they'll do what they can. This isn't so much to thank you for what you've done but rather as a gesture of goodwill and our request to count you among our friends."

He didn't make it easy, did he? Could it be that he knew about the Temple? Or maybe a high-level Dark One disguised as a High Elf was valuable enough in itself? Not being able to divine his hidden agenda made me angry. I couldn't ask him directly: he'd just pretend to take offense with my questioning the sincerity of their offer. But in any case, I had better give them something back. That was one way to feel less obliged.

I reached into my bag and produced the torches. "Thanks a lot, man. I mean it. Please accept these from me," I handed him both torches. "I hate being in debt."

"What debts are you talking about?" he shrugged. "But we really appreciate these torches. Your fight has shown us all their multifunctional potential."

On hearing his last words, my inner greedy pig clutched his heart and slid down the wall in despair. I had to remind him about the heap of gold the two of us had amassed today. With Dan's help, mind you.

One question kept bugging me. "The bookies won't string themselves up, I hope? Did they lose a lot?"

He laughed. "It's a high risk business. We made them hit their operating limit of one million. They should be thankful. In real life, they might not have left in one piece."

A hundred grand USD, not bad at all. No wonder Dan was beaming like a cat that got the cream. "Just to bring it into prospective, how much does your castle cost?"

He gave it some thought. "There isn't a fixed price. It all depends on how badly the parties want the deal to go through. About four million, I'd say, or possibly five. It also depends on its condition. And on how well it's stocked with structures and artifacts. Only we don't really want to sell it, even if we were offered six million for it," he grinned. "Very well, then. I'm off to enjoy the big day. My wife and kids have come to see me. Come around later if you want to meet them. Make sure you stay for the banquet and the dance."

He turned around to go, but then slapped himself on the forehead and turned back to me. "Oh, Max, you'll have to hang around for a while. The constable of the castle will be having an awards ceremony in the arena in half an hour."

I nodded. Awards are sacred. Presently, a young boy—one of the junior cadets, according to Eric—came running with an armful of likes and ribbons from the audience. He slammed a small jingling purse on top of the heap and reported,

"Cadet Invincible2022, delivering sixty-eight likes, untold ribbons and ninety-two gold on quartermaster's orders, Sir!"

Eric saluted him. "Thank you, cadet. Dismissed."

"Proud to serve the clan, Sir!"

The youth about-turned sharply, marched three smart steps and then darted away.

"Some discipline you've got here."

Eric grinned. "Don't fool yourself. The cadets, yes, they're tested for stability and discipline. So they fag about for a month until they're promoted and officially join our ranks. Then it gets much more relaxed, as you can see."

We spent the next half hour adorning my pets with likes and ribbons—a pointless but funny activity. Finally, the trumpets blew a clarion, inviting the audience back to the stands and the winners to the arena. They fiddled with the settings turning the sand red, color-matching the setting sun.

The constable Major Medved was large and awesome. A paladin nearing level 200, he stood head and shoulders above me and was twice as broad. A magnificent cape hugged his frame—red velvet embroidered with gold. I wondered if all this color-coordinating was the cause of our waiting till sunset. The four winners next to him looked like preteen truants in the principal's office. Only the level-130 Barbarian who'd won the top division might have been a reluctant match but even he, despite his height, paled into insignificance next to the Major.

The constable bellowed, "Natinel, level 32 Ranger, who in honest combat has proven his right to the Champion's Bracelet, accept your prize!"

The stands cheered, the plaudits enthusiastic even if not too numerous. The ranger stepped out and accepted the engraved bracelet and a purse with a hundred gold.

"Do you know of a lady you would like to proclaim Tournament Queen?"

The ranger's voice came out squeaky and childish. "I do! It's Lena from freshman year."

The Constable drowned his laughter in a coughing fit. The stands screamed with delight. This time their applause was longer. It took Major Medved some time to bring the crowd under control.

"Unfortunately, the lady has to be present at the castle. I suggest you bring her along to the next tournament."

The Constable turned to me. "Laith, level 52 Death Knight, accompanied by a bear and a demoness. Today you have shown a strong fighting spirit and excellent combat training as you kept defeating the strongest of your opponents. Wear this well-deserved bracelet with pride. We'll be happy to see you here next year."

The stalls clapped their hands in unison. Only fair, really: I'd provided a lot of the show that day, and quite a few of them had made a nice profit or at least hadn't lost their gold. As a welcome addition, a heavy purse dropped into my bag.

"Sir Laith! Do you know of a lady you would like to proclaim Tournament Queen?"

"Yes, Sir Constable," I answered in the same key, getting into the medieval spirit. "Lady Taali has captured my heart. Truly she is the Tournament Beauty Queen!"

"So be it!"

The trumpets resounded. The arena gate swung open, letting in Taali in a long cream-colored robe, riding a white unicorn. She looked stunning like some princess in exile. Eric, proud and magnanimous, was leading the unicorn by the reins. When had they managed to arrange all that?

The unicorn approached. Taali jumped off into my arms. The stands whistled, envying us, as the Constable concealed a smile behind his mustache.

Finally he raised his hand, ordering silence. "Truly Lady Taali deserves the title of Tournament Queen! Your portrait will be the centerpiece of our Hall of Fame. Please accept this modest prize!"

He walked down his platform and handed the girl a custom-made platinum tiara. Taali blushed, eyes glistening. Her chest heaved, betraying her excitement.

Later, we didn't remember much of the remaining ceremony. We just stood there holding hands and whispering. Ditto for the banquet and the dance.

And later that night… later I envied my own luck. Now I knew the best way to a woman's heart. You needed to become her knight, to win a tournament and publicly announce her the Beauty Queen. All men are welcome to this page from my book.

In the morning, as I sat in my easy chair with a cup of hot coffee in my lap, I sensed again the void in the local worldbuilding. Anything for a cigarette. Suddenly I flashed back to the thought that had hit me as I'd gobbled that Russian salad. I needed to get a recipe for cigarettes. Unique, preferably. Naturally, you couldn't solve this kind of problem straight out, but if I'd learned one thing in life it was that every problem had multiple solutions. I had money now, so I could afford to toy around with the idea. I ordered the smell and taste files and chose classic Marlboro as a prototype. I thought a bit more and pulled out its complete specifications. Length, color, dryness, burn rate and a dozen more production standards.

Right, let's try and see. I dug into the menu and found the recipe generation application form. Oh well. Ten gold for each attempt. Not too expensive, but still. I started filling out the form.

Incense sticks for temple rites. Dry mixture. Color: yellow brown. Chopped to specification and wrapped in white paper. One end is filled with fiber to 1/4 of the length of the stick. When lit up, smolders for 8 min filling the room with fragrant smoke.

I uploaded the smell and taste samples from the file. That seemed to be it. I crossed my fingers and pressed Submit.

AI didn't think long. In less than a minute, I received his reply:

Warning! It seems that your recipe will result in creating an item which is identical with certain prohibited items.

Item name: Cigarette, 91% match

Item name: Cigar, 86% match

Item name: Tobacco, 79% match

We advise that you can't create a new item with more than 50% match.

Change the item's ingredients and try again.

Aha. So that's how it worked, then. And if I deleted the filter? I changed the recipe and submitted it again. Same result, only the cigar and cigarette's percentages had swapped places. Oh well. Apparently, I couldn't create the recipe from scratch. I had to break the task down and start with creating some tobacco. I had a funny feeling that if I hid its description in the depths of some complex recipe, I might just pull it off. Let's see.

Sushi 'The Emperor's Smoldering Delight'.

Ingredients: rice, fish and nori seaweed, yellow brown. Smell and taste samples attached.

Why would I need smoldering nori seaweed, you might ask? Because apparently it's some arcane sushi ceremony. AI took fifteen minutes to reply, too long for an automated answer. Most likely, he could see right through my schemes and had been deciding what to do with this sneaky cheek.

Got it.

You've been granted permission to generate recipe:

Sushi 'The Emperor's Smoldering Delight'.

Category: Top A Restaurant Dishes

Price of normal recipe: 1800 gold

Price of unique recipe: 18000 gold.

They didn't want much, did they? Apparently, I had to drop this restaurant nonsense and get rid of the ingredients I didn't need.

Nori seaweed sheets for sushi making. Color: yellow brown. Smell and taste samples attached.

As if! 82% match with tobacco. Was it my imagination or was AI laughing his mechanical head off watching me trying?

What else could I get rid of? What if the sheets were white? 76% match, that's better. I really didn't want to use rice or other worthless ingredients, because in the case of mass production it would turn into millions of gold wasted. And what if I deviated from the classic tobacco formula a bit? What's the point in stubbornly copying something if you can modify it?

After another hour of intellectual ping pong, I won with the score 1 to 22. After twenty-two attempts, my recipe for white tobacco was accepted. So what if the smoke was not blue but rainbowy like a soap bubble? It would be even more fun watching it. And if you didn't like the fact that it tasted of strawberries, then you shouldn't have tried to eat it, should you?

Now a few finishing touches. I generated some yellow brown dye. Taste: none, smell: none. It went through.

Then the paper. Having said that… I already had my sheets of white tobacco. So I could use them to wrap chopped dyed tobacco. And add a normal paper filter. Or I could use some budget filterless solution, like some cheap Soviet-era cigarettes.

I crossed my fingers and submitted the patent request. It took them a while to reply. After an hour, I got pretty nervous. Coffee cups piled up on the table. The room had been paced in all directions. Finally, I received a PM alert.

Dear Max,

After careful consideration, we've found your idea original, legally viable and ambiguous enough to give it a green light. However, we have a few key conditions.

1. You can't transfer the patent to a third party without administration's approval.

2. The company will receive 80% of all profits from the sales of your item by automatic taxation on every sale.

3. We expect you to increase sales gradually and would appreciate your consideration of the market's stability and public feeling.

For our part, we can guarantee you our full legal support.

Chief of the AlterWorld Financial Department: Mr. Dave Lee

Oh well. Curiouser and curiouser. Had they just dealt me the role of a pawn in a big boys' game? Having said that, it wasn't as if I had any alternatives. I could play it safe and mix with the crowd, or I could take a few risks diving into the heavyweights' slimy money ponds and surfacing with profit. That way I could gradually acquire enough weight myself to be able to tackle tasks more serious then choosing the right shoe color. To do that, I needed to reach top levels as well as achieve financial stability and support from friends or clanmates. I still had to think about it all. But this tobacco thing demanded my immediate attention. It looked as if I'd been the first to have successfully jumped through all the hoops, so the company had decided to take a chance on me. Tobacco trade was such a gold mine that I'm sure the admins would back up the devil if he somehow managed to skirt around the smoking ban. I had to accept their offer. This wasn't the right moment to haggle over the terms. I pressed Confirm.

Fine minutes later, I received another message, this time from AI.

You've been granted permission to generate recipe: "The Emperor's Smoldering Delight".

Category: Class D Food.

Price of basic recipe: 400 gold

Price of unique recipe: 4000 gold

Price of patent: 2000 gold for 1% coverage

You've been granted permission to generate recipe: Yellow Brown Dye, tasteless, odorless.

Category: Class E Food Colorants

Price of basic recipe: 100 gold

Price of unique recipe: 1000 gold

Price of patent: 500 gold for 1% coverage

Total price of the basic package: 500 gold

Total price of the unique package: 5000 gold

Total price of the unique package with maximum patent: 30000 gold

Without even thinking, I accepted the last version. The gold clinked, making me thirty grand poorer. I had five thousand cash left.

Congratulations! You've received a unique recipe "The Emperor's Smoldering Delight"!

Requires level 50

Requires 100 Cooking Skill

Ingredients: Swamp Lily leaves, Juice of Millefleurs, Pollen of Gigantic Fly-Trap

Congratulations! You've received a unique recipe "Yellow Brown Dye, tasteless, odorless".

Required level 50

Requires 100 Alchemy Skill

Ingredients: Juice of Brown Fern, Wax from Forest bees, Spring water

Would you like to learn the recipes?

Yes! A moment later, I had the skill I needed. Now my alchemy was up to date but I still had to level up my cooking skill. Not a problem. I opened the auction and ordered two basketfuls of sandwich fillings of various difficulty levels. I also discovered tons of recipes from the happy selling crowd. After an hour and a half of slicing, layering and wrapping I was the proud owner of three hundred indestructible sandwiches and a precious skill.

I checked all the ingredients I needed to make the dye and tobacco. The dye was no problem. Its ingredients were so easily available that the cost of production turned out to be around 1 silver. After another half-hour, an army of fat vials lined up on my table.

Tobacco proved more difficult. Either Gigantic Fly-Trap didn't grow here or nobody bothered to collect its pollen, and it was only available from two sellers. One of them was asking 2 silver for a batch while the other, for some reason only known to him, demanded one gold for the same quantity. I bought up the former's entire stock which amounted to sixty doses, then PM'd him offering to buy any quantities he might happen to have. Then I set up auto buy with the task of buying all six ingredients in bulk for a setup price. This way I could get the cream of the auction's crop. The auto buy didn't charge much—3% of the deal—but promised to save me a pretty penny.

And things got rolling.

By the evening, I finally made it to my recliner, took a swig of strong coffee and a tug on a cigarette, the first in this world. Jeez, it felt good. And the way the smoke wafted around! The real-world manufacturers would have jumped off a cliff for my iridescent smoke recipe.

I finished the cigarette, rolled my eyes and lingered in the chair, enjoying the fragrance. Even more important was the fact that I wasn't ruining anyone's health by selling the stuff. All I was doing was helping others enjoy their habit.

Time to run field trials. I stuffed all the rollups into my bag—about two hundred in total, costing 4 silver each—and walked downstairs into the main hall. As always, evenings were pretty busy. I walked over to the bartender, exchanged a few words and ordered a shot of brandy. With a practiced gesture, I produced a cigarette and flicked it into my mouth. I slapped my pockets, searching for a lighter, found none and made an international gesture as if asking him for a light.

Mechanically, he reached under the bar and struck a match. His hand froze halfway to the cigarette. His eyes stared at my mouth. I leaned forward and lit up. Then I inhaled, just like in that cowboy advert, and let out a cloud of smoke. His eyes grew enormous as he stared at his own reflection in the iridescent smoke rings. He made a very peculiar movement with his nose, taking in the familiar aroma. His burned fingers twitched as he dropped the match.

"S-s-spare a smoke?" he stuttered, voiceless.

With pleasure. I offered him a rollup. Breaking matches, he finally lit up and drew in a lungful. Slowly he exhaled. His face was euphoric. "This is too good…"

Everybody spoke at once.

Apparently, the patrons had long left their places and surrounded us, waiting for his verdict. Now they all fought for my attention, interrupting each other, all saying the same thing, "Spare one, sell some, leave a few, please!"

"One per head," I shouted over the noise as I handed out the precious sticks placing them into their impatiently shaking fingers.

A minute later, the inn was dead quiet. Colorful clouds of smoke hovered under the ceiling of what now resembled an opium den: all smoke, smell, silence and blissful faces.

A teleport popped outside in the courtyard. The door shook and collapsed, hanging on one hinge. A bloodied paladin in dented armor burst into the hall, oozing drops of blood onto the floor. His life pulsated in the orange zone. But he didn't seem to care. His nostrils widened as he sniffed the air. His practiced eye singled me out in the crowd. Avariciously he headed for the bar.

Someone uttered his name, recognizing the famous knight. "Fuckyall!"

He held out a compelling palm. I placed a cigarette into it and struck a match. The warrior inhaled, closed his eyes and exhaled through both nostrils. Then he loosened up as if someone had deflated him. The hard expression left his face; his lips curved into a smile.

Another teleport popped outside. A furious level 205 cleric girl stormed into the hall.

"Fuckyall! Very nice, fucking off in the middle of a fight!"

The warrior shot out his arm, calling for silence. He was all blissed out.

Having finished the cigarette in two deep drags, he stepped closer, hovering over me. "How many've you got? I'm taking 'em all."

The patrons grumbled, rising from their seats. The paladin swung round and growled at the angrier ones, with little effect. I heard the grating of unsheathing knives.

Fuckyall thought better of it. "Very well. Think you can sell me a couple packs? My whole soul's on fire. Have been smoking nothing but moss and straw for two years flat."

"I only have 'em loose," I warned him placing about fifty cigarettes on the bar. "Actually, it's been a promotion. I've been offering them for free, one apiece."

The paladin waved the idea away. One of the Russian cluster's most powerful warriors, he was too used to shaping the world after his own needs. No way was he going to adjust to any amount of senseless regulations created by some anonymous paper-pushers. "How much?"

"Two gold apiece," I quoted the price I'd already calculated.

Fuckyall slapped his pockets and grimaced. Pulling a massive bracelet off his wrist, he threw it onto the table. "Take it. You're worth it. Barman! Three bottles of brandy and the best room you can find in this rat hole. I need some rest."

In the meantime, more teleports started popping outside. The news of the cigarettes arrival was spreading fast in this world.