Inferno (Play to Live: Book # 4) (19 page)

Judging by the newsfeeds, the Asians were currently at the forefront of the political arena. They were the ones constantly mentioned as the main players in certain global events whenever there was a city taken, new lands discovered or an epic quest completed. Diligent, insistent and tenacious like terriers, the Chinese, the Japanese, the Koreans and other smaller but equally determined nations had begun to spread, subjecting the neighboring lands to their rule.

Soon their spheres of influence had begun to overlap, causing tension. The game developers hadn't given much thought to AlterWorld's geography, sweeping the entire Asian cluster to one side of the enormous Frontier, thus dividing it from the European lands and virtually dooming it to an unavoidable war.

There were a few other points that spoke in favor of helping the Koreans.

Firstly, topping up my long-suffering treasury. Gone were the days of Max the computer guy who'd puffed up with pride at his just-above-average earnings. Now I was a duke, a local lord with his own army, lands and a whopping big castle. All this absorbed gold like water, pushing me to new expansionist escapades. In our troubled times, relying on pure economy for a cash flow bordered on suicidal. Sad as it may sound, one captured castle could pay for years of hard crafting work.

Secondly, I desperately needed a good scuffle, preferably with an awe-inspiring enemy. My fifteen top Ear Cutters that I'd gotten for mere peanuts were now serving as guiding beacons on the road to my clan's incredible strength. The night I'd spent with Mona Lisa had melted the deep-space ice that had bound my heart after the name-giving session. The Creator's spark in my soul was once again burning hot, subconsciously attracting some of the smarter NPCs.

And what could be cooler than an Inferno scuffle?

I gave the Korean guy my preliminary consent and promised to be back in touch within the hour. Then I called a staff meeting to mull over the raid idea with the few members of my micro HQ. Speaking in order of rank, all of my officers supported the idea. Even any potential problems with Asmodeus didn't put them off. Only Dennis the Analyst wrinkled his nose which made him look like an enormous cat.

I nodded in synch with his thoughts, "We're not going to assault Asmodeus blindly like a bunch of idiots. Even if it does come to a head, we'll keep all permas in the rear and only send the NPCs into battle. That'll give them a chance to write their names in gold in our Hall of Fame. Same goes for everyone! Keep an eye on your men. Don't let their enthusiasm get the better of them. Siam, I want you to draft a message for the Vets. It's not a good thing to alert them at a moment's notice. We really should offer them an occasional share of our pie, too."

I paused for a second, assessing the call-up potential of all the parties involved. "The op starts in five hours. Make sure we don't repeat the same fuckup as the last time! Only the old-timers. The portal to Inferno will be set up at the Remote Post next to Tianlong's fortress. Dennis, I want you to run it past the Koreans. Seeing as this is a rescue mission, we won't be charging them for it but we'll be the ones in control and we'll be getting all the loot. It's their people we're out to rescue, after all, and we're doing it all at our expense. Don't accept any objections. I don't even think there'll be any. The kids aren't in a position to haggle."

The following unhurried preparation proved much easier than a general alarm. Although it too had its rushed moments, but it was nothing like the hell we'd raised the last time. The techs habitually swore under their breath as they rolled the heavy golems out of their hangars and began tapping their hammers, changing their weapons and gear to the latest recommended standards. They'd had plenty of time to study the logs of the last battle, circling the best-working damage schemes in red, and were now exercising their creativity as they put the thoroughly and very expensively repaired techno monsters back together.

The Cursed Castle battle had cost me indeed. There'd been no loot, as whatever gear the enemy fighters had lost had become my warriors' lawful trophies. This, by the way, is one of the biggest stimuli to join a clan: legitimate PK. Where else can you expect to smoke your opponent and strip him of his prized artifact while keeping your reputation intact? The only other place you could do this sort of thing was in the arena provided the rules had been tweaked to allow it.

So all in all, our clan treasury had suffered somewhat. Then again, what clan was I talking about? Everything that it owned had come out of my very own pocket. The ten-percent tax had only just begun to trickle in, making me want to weep at its miserable flow.

Having said that, I'd also gained a considerable number of freebies in terms of reputation, experience and new diplomatic connections. Not even to mention the boost our alliance had received in acquiring a powerful vassal with his own small army together with a good hundred and fifty new member applications. Cryl was now spitting venom, forced to stay behind and go through them, looking into the applicants' respective life stories. In any case, his level didn't answer the raid's objective. It was about time I took my staff rats out into the field to do some quality strategic leveling. We had a lot of catching up to do. All this paper-pushing was gradually turning us into dead weight — and that applied to me too.

I just hoped Cryl was going to feel a bit better when he heard about my plans to replace him with Orcus who'd recently joined our motley crew. My young "cloak and dagger" wasn't that ambitious. He much preferred going into battle and spending his spare time with his Junior High sweetheart, Lena.

But as for Orcus... he'd proved to be a true godsend. This was a mature wolf who knew the secret service inside out and couldn't wait to sink his teeth into his old profession. Yes, I risked a lot hiring him as is, without all the proper real-life checks. In doing so I was entirely trusting my gut feeling and Fuckyall's recommendation. Missing such an opportunity would have been madness. It's not every day a real special-service wolfhound falls into your lap.

The Vets took seconds to reply to my invitation to join the raid. Predictably, it was an affirmative. They must have already had a knee-jerk decision-making mechanism: Max's path was strewn with loot and excitement so it was always worth tagging along with his party.

The Children of Night HQ was the first to port to the Remote Post, together with a covering group and a dozen freshly hired bodyguard trolls under Snowie's command. The stationary portal behind our backs stayed open, unhurriedly sucking gold out of my pocket and letting through the stooping golems.

Our allies had refused our help in setting up navigational beacons, thus hinting at them having their own. Indeed, soon an amazing emerald green guest portal unfolded next to our standard-issue one. I turned a quizzical stare to Siam, my analyst, who was known to pump megabytes of newsfeeds through his memory on a daily basis.

"That's the latest wizard fad," he commented. "The ultimate in cool, meant to demonstrate your control over your element. One of them had stumbled across a few variables in the basic spell. By changing its verbal and visual components and varying the mana flow one can alter the desirable effect to a certain degree. At the moment, the wizzies are fooling around with it simply changing the portal's appearance. But that's only the beginning."

"What do you mean by the visual component?"

"Well you know, all those rituals and charms and other bells and whistles."

I shook my head. "They call it progress! If it goes like this, very soon we'll be dancing shamanic dances with a tambourine, howling some teeth-chattering mantras just to cast a simple portal."

"If it's a portal to earth, why not. The players seem to be gingerly pushing the limits set by the game developers. It['s pretty obvious they're not quite yet sure what they can do, which is why they keep relying on all sorts of crutches. Just give them a bit of time — or wait for the new generation to grow up. Everything's gonna be totally different. Look at our kids! Whoever doesn't yet have a zombie pet is considered uncool! Every single one of them is casting: rogues and clerics, tanks even!"

I shuddered. God forbid. The desperate squeaking of honking green zombie mice had already started to infuriate everyone older than ten years of age. Talking of which. In the last three weeks, my kindergarten had grown a lot. Screwyall's progress was especially impressive, but then his situation was different. If it went on like this, in another two or three years' time the kids would be old enough to get driving licenses. Having said that... no, probably not. They would probably pause in certain periods of psychological comfort and security. For boys it could be the age of six, ten and sixteen years old. The girls, I wasn't really sure. Their truly alien mentality was a mystery to me. I just hoped that AlterWorld's soil offered little food for those sissies so widespread on Earth these days, giving my boys a chance to grow beyond an eternal seventeen-year-old wuss.

At a signal from their ever-watchful pointmen, the guest portal started disgorging the Vets' never-ending formations. They cheered to us, nodding their respect at the sight of the heavy war golems and casting surprised glances at Tianlong. No wonder: the once-emaciated dragon had considerably beefed up on Macaria's free boost channel. His once-yellow bones now sparkled a bright celestial blue. According to our guards, they'd sighted quite a few instants of his tail twitching — which immediately stopped once the dragon noticed their watching him.

While the Vets lined up in the designated area, our staff officers coordinated their maneuvers and multi-layered buffing schemes.

Dan, General Frag and the clan priest a.k.a. the incessantly grinning Eric reined up their mounts at the foot of the HQ hill. While we exchanged handshakes, Hummungus and LAV sniffed each other, their initial distrust giving way first to surprise and then to keen interest. Eric's bear swayed its hips invitingly while Hummungus tried to walk around it with an apparent intention to jump its bones.

"Hummungus, off! Hi, bro! You don't think your LAV here could actually be a
girl
?"

Eric cast an embarrassed glance around him and leaned toward me, whispering confidentially. "I just don't know any more. He seems to have filled out a bit in the most interesting places. And, er... I don't think I've noticed him having any, you know... ah! Can we check yours if he has any, you know what I mean-"

Hummungus recoiled with a warning growl. I patted his neck. "Relax! Uncle Eric's only joking. I think we'd better ask him to let his teddy pay us a visit, shall we? An overnight one? Then we'll be watching Uncle Eric gradually turning into a picture-book Tartar riding his pot-bellied pregnant horse..."

Everybody guffawed. Even Eric brightened up a little. "And how much do they pay for a puppy — dammit! — for a bear cub from an elite breeder?"

"it should cost at least its own weight in silver," I said generously. "And if the cub is a perma that ignores the admins' restrictions — probably, in gold."

The staff officers of both parties grew pensive. Predictably, Dennis was the first to come round. He nudged his miserable off-the-shelf horse toward Eric and began whispering in his ear.

Er... should we really be doing a bit of breeding? You never know: in another hundred years the Russian cavalry might be prancing about on elite bears, commanding awe and respect from their enemies.

In the meantime, the portal began disgorging the thick ranks of NPCs bristling with steel and magic. This was my biggest strategic idea which had hit my wallet the hardest. A six-hundred strong group of top level female warriors, mainly comprised of beautiful human women and noble Elfas. Loyalty to the clan was in their setup; each with her own character and option of free movement beyond the castle walls. They had bled the hire potential of both the castle and the First Temple dry. Properly motivated, my men watched them closely, eager to follow my recommendation to "stick to each other in battle, watch out for each other and use every opportunity to offer a friendly hand".

As the neat ranks of female squads formed in the square, the smile faded on General Frag's face, replaced by wrinkled confusion. Finally, he couldn't hold it any longer.

"Listen Max, I do know that the rumors of your gold swag have been greatly exaggerated. It's true that you've laid your hands on an indecent amount of trophies. But most of it you've stashed away, in your arsenal as well as in the treasury. We've managed to trace whatever you've dumped on the auction. So do tell me: why on earth are you splurging kilotons of gold on NPCs? You of all people should know that their potential is suspect to say the least!"

I squinted, unsure if I should share my secret with him. This kind of knowledge was more powerful than an A-bomb. Immediately the Vets sensed my indecision, tensing up like tigers before springing. They didn't expect any huge cosmic revelations in response to an apparently simple question, but they could smell triple-confidential information when they got a whiff of it.

On one hand, every NPC we'd wrestled from the eternal void was a great acquisition and a loyal comrade to boot, unlikely to ever turn coat. On the other hand, I had a funny feeling that the amount of new identities arriving in AlterWorld was finite. Our world just wouldn't be able to create millions of sentients out of nowhere. Sooner or later, we would bleed the world's reserves empty. After that, our castle interfaces would only be able to generate brainless zombies.

And still, there were just too many eyes watching us closely. Very soon the secret would gain a life of its own, and then I'd find myself in front of the Vets with egg on my face. Sure, they'd understand my motivations but the old trust and camaraderie would be gone. Apart from that, the strengthening of the Vets and their Alliance was in my own interest. For a second I struggled with the greedy desire to ask for something in return. Still, I couldn't think of anything equally valuable and swapping it for a handful of African beads would be rather stupid.