The Citadel (Mirror World Book #2) (27 page)

Maximum 3000 gold for up to 10 months.

Medium Term Loan:

Maximum 20,000 gold for up to 6 years

Long Term Loan:

Amount: Negotiable

Term: Negotiable

My virtual heart was thrashing about in my chest, trying to break free. I was only interested in Long Term Loans.

Verifying the applicant's personal data

A download bar appeared on the terminal's monitor, its color gradually changing from yellow to green. A percentage count began flashing inside the bar. Very well. I could wait.

98%...

99%...

100%

It looked like it was finished.

The applicant's personal data analysis completed.

Name: Olgerd

Race: Ennan

Account type: Daily Grind

Profession: Mine Digger

Skill level: Master

Workplace: Drammen and Its Environments

Employer: Melorie, the Lady of Storms

Work contract type: Permanent

Reputation with Mellenville: 8550 pt.

Time in game since last login: 28 days

If the above information is correct, press
Submit Application
.

If you discovered an error, please contact Customer Support.

Okay, let's check it again... all right. Everything seemed to be fine. I pressed
Submit Application
.

Thank you! Your information has been submitted. Processing it might take several minutes.

We appreciate your patience.

Very well, then. Several minutes was nothing. I'd been waiting for almost a month already. I could wait a bit more.

I might actually check out some deposit boxes to keep my little chests and boxes in. I had a bagful of loot on me, didn't I?

Right, a safe deposit box. What did we have here? The choice wasn't that big, after all. The smallest volume allowed was twenty slots, followed by fifty, a hundred, etc.

There were several things to keep in mind. You could rent a box: either on a monthly, quarterly or yearly basis, depending on your needs. Long-term rent was more interesting, considering all the potential bonuses and discounts. That was good news. Price per slot, too, was considerably smaller on large boxes. A 20-slot one would cost you 60 gold a month while a 50-slot one was only 125 gold, saving you 50 silver on each slot.

And what if I rented a 100-slot one? Firstly, because I tended to deal mainly with stones, and this particular resource had the tendency to quickly take up all the available bag space. Secondly, I liked the price. Two gold per slot. That was two hundred a month: costly but on the other hand it was worth it. Knowing that all your possessions are safe under lock and key makes you feel better. The only problem was, they could freeze your cell if you missed a payment and you wouldn't be able to get your stuff back until you paid it plus all the relevant dues.

That wasn't so bad, really. I remembered forum members saying that the rules used to be much tougher when the game had just started out. The unpaid stuff simply disappeared, once and for all, and couldn't be reclaimed. It hadn't lasted long, naturally, because it had caused a godawful outcry among forum members. The admins had to handle kilotons of messages, mainly threats and complaints. Because everyone was complaining! Who would like to lose a valuable item to a stupidly missed payment? Especially if the payment had been missed due to some justifiable real-life problem. One could fall ill or get married — even have a baby, after all.

That was it, then. I'd better take a 100-slot one. And pay for three months: they had a discount running.

My wallet became almost 600 gold poorer.

Congratulations! You've created a safe deposit box!

What now? Should we start opening Christmas gifts?

What a strange feeling. I wasn't really angry with Tanor anymore — but my hands kept shaking. The situation was unconventional, I had to agree. There I was waiting for the bank to grant me a loan, and I found nothing better to do in the meantime than to open my hard-earned loot. Crazy.

So, let's do it. Where do we begin? The biggest prize, obviously. Off we go!

I pressed the scarlet-red icon of the Precious Wrought-Iron Chest, its iridescent surface exuding rays of magic. This was the treasure guarded by the giant serpent.

Are you sure you want to open the Precious Wrought-Iron Chest?

Accept/Decline

Of course I was sure. No need to ask.

The moment I clicked
Accept
, the system offered the following cynical message:

Unfortunately, your level isn't high enough to perform the requested action.

Level required: 50

Bummer! They can shove their restrictions up their- Actually, what about other boxes?

Are you sure you want to open the Wrought-Iron Box?

Accept/Decline

Yes, I'm sure, dammit!

Calm down, Olgerd. Get a grip.

Unfortunately, your level is not high enough to perform the requested action.

Level required: 30

How could I calm down when this was happening? With a heavy heart I began opening the remaining items: first the Steel Chests, then the Carved Wooden Boxes and finally, the Pouches. I wasn't holding my breath. Predictably, the result was the same everywhere. Even to open the Torn Pouch, you still had to be level 10-plus.

Oh well. Shit happens. I closed my weary eyes and rubbed my temples. Strangely enough, my anger seemed to have disappeared. I'm not the kind of person to hold grudges. At least I'd tried. And I could still auction everything which was good news. Still, I had a hunch that it would have been much better for me to open these sorts of things myself. Unfortunately, with my account type I could forget it. And as for the auction... I shouldn't rush it. I absolutely needed to talk to Rrhorgus first. He was the expert.

What a shame I'd rented a 100-slot box! Fifty would have been plenty. Never mind. It's always better to leave it here out of harm's way. I'd very nearly been robbed once already.

As I moved the items into the safe deposit box, the terminal offered a new message,

Dear Olgerd,

We have processed your personal information. To receive a consultation regarding your request, please proceed to Floor 2, Office 1 of the banking center.

Chapter Twenty-Four

D
id they even have a Floor 2? The building looked one-story from the outside. Never mind. Where was I supposed to go?

I wandered around the hall for a bit until I finally found a short passage leading to a stairwell. The narrow marble stairs and the wrought-iron banister reminded me of an old house in Madrid where I'd once stayed on business for a month. Outside, it had been scorching hot, the sun was blazing but inside it was cool and shady. They don't build houses like this anymore.

I hurried up two flights of stairs and stopped on a banistered landing facing the only door. A number
1
glittered gold on the dark-blue sign. Looked like I'd got to the right place. I cast a cautious look around me just in case and tapped on the wood.

"Come in," a calm voice said.

The door handle turned with ease.

I had to rub my eyes. I hadn't expected to see this at all.

After all the medieval halls, inn beds, tavern rooms and magic shops, the sight of a modern office took me slightly aback.

Dark gray filing cabinets, boxfuls of papers, a printer, a black computer screen, the rustle of an old aircon... Vinyl windows...

Windows? I couldn't believe my eyes. They opened
into the real world!

Ignoring the office worker at the desk, I walked slowly to the window, unable to take my eyes off it.

It was cloudy outside. Judging by the wet tarmac, the rain had just stopped. The sun tentatively showed its pale yellow flank from behind the dispersing clouds. People filled the sidewalks below. Real people. Not dwarves, not Alves, not goddamn Horruds but real breathing human beings.

Jesus. It felt so good seeing them. Children, teenagers, old people and young couples — all wearing normal street clothes, jackets and raincoats, many with umbrellas. A white bus drove past, closely followed by a yellow taxi. The cabman signaled left, trying to overtake the cumbersome behemoth. The rich green foliage of the maple trees lining the road was still loosing off occasional raindrops.

"How do you like the view?" a calm, dry voice made me jump. Reluctantly I tore my gaze away from the window.

A man of about fifty years of age sat in an office chair behind a large desk. His bald patch glowed like a polished billiard ball. He had an aquiline nose and small dark eyes under bushy eyebrows. His intelligent gaze was sort of weary.

His skinny shoulders shuddered. "It's wet, isn't it?" he added without waiting for me to reply. "They promise more showers tonight. Would you like to take a seat?"

Slowly I lowered my body into the chair he'd pointed me to. I must have really looked out of place in this setting.

As if second-guessing my thoughts, the man wheezed, "You're quite a sight, Sir Olgerd, I tell you. Still, it's better than being a Horrud, I suppose. I doubt my office would survive a visit from one."

He said it matter-of-factly without even a shadow of sarcasm. Strangely enough, he hadn't even looked up at me yet. He kept staring at his computer screen, occasionally clicking the mouse.

"And as for this view," he went on, "it shouldn't surprise you. We're still in the game. This is a different server, that's all. The street view is an illusion. A video clip. All thanks to our wretched shrinks and their ideas. They think that this kind of scene sets the right tone for our customers for the upcoming conversation. Judging by your expression, they were probably right. Now!"

He fell silent as he tapped his long fingers on the keyboard. The glow of the computer screen reflected in his glasses. His thin lips moved as he mouthed something.

Finally he coughed into his fist and turned his attention from the screen to myself. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Victor Pavlov. No, please remain seated. I don't think we'll be able to shake hands in this environment. I'd rather save both your and my time and not explain to you the nature of this phenomenon."

"As you wish."

"Excellent. So let's move straight to business. We know you need a large sum of money."

"That's right," I offered weakly.

He nodded and glanced back at the screen. "You've made some impressive progress, I have to admit. In less than a month, you've managed to meet all our conditions."

I sensed my lips stretch into a tentative smile.

"You've found permanent employment," he continued, reading from the screen. "Let me tell you that you're the first player in my experience who's managed to raise his Reputation so high in such a short period of time."

"Thank you," I said cautiously. "I'll take it as a compliment."

"Despite your lack of experience, you've braved almost a month's immersion."

"This is the only clause on your list of requirements that really worried me," I admitted. "Should I have waited some more?"

He pursed his lips and waved my question away. "That's not a problem. Two more days don't really count. But your skill level is impressive. Congratulations! This is a big fat plus in your favor."

"In yours too," I said softly but he didn't seem to have heard it, busy peering at the screen.

The tapping of the keyboard stopped. With one last click of the mouse, the worker looked up at me and produced some semblance of a smile.

"Congratulations, Sir Olgerd! Our bank can offer you a loan of eighty thousand gold in in-game currency. Which corresponds to the same amount in dollars at the last rate. Sir? Are you all right? You're pale."

"But," I whispered. My throat was dry. My temples felt as if being caught in a vice. A tell-tale sharp pain pierced my chest.

"Are you okay? Would you like some water?" he asked sympathetically.

"No thanks," I slowly shook my head. "I'm sorry to bring it up but actually I counted on a bigger sum."

His bushy eyebrows shot up. "That's the biggest we can do! Please have mercy on us! You have neither security nor guarantors... If it were a mortgage, at least we'd keep the property."

He was absolutely right. "Yes... sure... of course. I understand."

"No bank in this country can make you a better offer."

"You're right, of course. I'm sorry about this. I just need the money really badly. Can't you do something?"

He glared at me, about to reply, when the phone rang softly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm obliged to take this..." he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

While he spoke into the phone, I lowered my head, staring thoughtlessly at the floor. Eighty thousand. Only eighty. Where could I get another hundred? As if I didn't know...

"Yes. Absolutely. I won't be a moment," he replaced the receiver and turned back to me. "I'm afraid I must leave you now. My boss will be with you in a moment. Have a nice day."

He rose from his desk with an agility remarkable for someone his age and strode out through a door in the far corner.

No idea how long I remained alone but by the time the door opened again, I was all shaking.

The door opened, letting in — or should I say, spewing out — a young woman about thirty years of age. She was tall with black hair, a chiseled face, slim waist and legs that seemed to go on forever. She looked more gorgeous than any amount of Alven girls here in Mirror World.

Despite her stunning appearance, her clothes reminded me of what our business etiquette teacher used to call "standard-issue office fatigues": a gray pencil skirt ending just below the knee and a matching fitted jacket. A no-frills (literally) ivory blouse, nude tights and kitten heels completed the look.

"Good morning, Mr. Ivanenko!" she beamed at me from the doorway. "Your capsule readings indicate your heart is about to jump out. I've come to put your mind at rest."

She walked over to the desk and fell gracefully into the chair that Mr. Pavlov had occupied only minutes ago. Looking me in the eye, she went on,

"I'm Vicky, the head of the Mellenville branch of Reflex Bank," she said with a disarming smile. "I'm sorry about this circus. Mr. Pavlov is quite capable of smothering anyone to death with his calculations. I'm going to tell you something, but first please promise you won't be angry with me."

The smile lingered on her face.

"If the truth were known," I said, "I'm past caring. I feel completely burned out. So no, I won't be angry with you. I promise."

"Good," she smiled again. "All this time, we've been watching you, analyzing your progress."

I waved her confession away. "That's pretty clear, isn't it? The fact that I can see no cameras here doesn't mean they're not there."

She half-lowered her eyes and gave a light shake of her head. "You don't understand. I don't mean now."

"Excuse me?"

"We started following your progress as soon as you chose the Ennan race."

I sighed. "I know. My brother told me. It's because of your ex-worker, isn't it? Andrew Petrov, a.k.a. Pierrot. It was him who channeled me into this race."

"Not exactly. You don't know all of it."

"Meaning?"

"Pierrot doesn't exist. Andrew Petrov does, of course. But he has nothing to do with it."

"Wait a sec..."

"Do you really think that a company like ours would allow some programmer to wreak havoc on us?"

"Well, in that case..."

"That's right. It was us who channeled you toward Ennans. I'll tell you more: you're not alone."

"But as far as I know, I'm the sole Ennan player. Do the Darkies have them too?"

"We're not talking about Ennans."

'Wait a sec! Does that mean that-"

She nodded. "We have quite a few other such races in the game. We call them Unique, or First-Born."

I frowned, rubbing my temples. "This is something I don't understand. My brother Dmitry..."

She raised her hands in a soothing gesture. "You don't need to worry about him. He still thinks it was Petrov who caused the glitch."

I sat back and interlaced my fingers. "I should probably listen to what you have to say."

"Good decision," she flashed me an encouraging smile. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? As you well know, we're about to release a new Mirror World project: Water World. Marine races and species, ships, pirates, lots of islands — tons of stuff. Only not everybody knows that the project has just been frozen for a few more months."

"I see. I think I know why. Might it have something to do with the company's plans to sell the majority stake to the government?"

"That's right," she said. "Apparently, the rumors have already leaked into the game. Or was it your brother who told you that? Actually, it doesn't matter."

I shrugged. "Every player knows that." I couldn't allow Dmitry to have problems because of me.

"We've invested a lot of money and effort into the new project," she said.

"And now it'll be the government reaping all the dividends," I added knowingly.

"As if! The government I wouldn't have minded so much. It'll be those in control of the project who'll do all the reaping. We might be looking at considerable losses. Losses! We're basically giving our baby away for free."

"This sounds scary."

"Don't worry. Very few know that we're having this conversation. That's why we've chosen this old backup server to meet you."

"I still don't understand why you might need me."

"You don't?" she arched a thin eyebrow.

My back erupted in cold sweat. "Wait a second... is it the Ennans' map you want?"

She nodded. "You're our Plan B. Others too, of course, but they haven't progressed a quarter of your route. Which is perfectly understandable."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your motivation. You would move mountains if it helped your daughter to get better. So let's stop beating about the bush. Mr. Ivanenko, I have a proposal to make."

"I'm all ears."

"You're right, it
is
about the map. Or rather, the Ennans' Twilight Castle."

"You want the clans to start a new war over it?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly. The Twilight Castle isn't really a castle. It's a city. And not just any city: it's the capital of the Twilight Zone."

For a while, I fell speechless. Cross-armed, Vicky seemed to be enjoying my reaction.

Then I knew it. "You can't activate Water World quite yet, but you seem to have a backup scenario in No-Man's Lands. You want to launch the Twilight Zone."

"That's right," she smiled. "We would like to ask you to activate the Gray Obelisk. By doing so you will trigger a war the kind of which this world hasn't seen yet."

"But why me? I'm only a Grinder!"

"If we strike a deal with any of the big clans, this will immediately become known to those who we'd like to remain in the dark for as long as possible. So you're actually the perfect solution. Whoever might try to look into you, will soon come across Pierrot's defection story and won't dig any deeper. The whole corporation knows about him. So you, in disregard of our warnings and propositions, insisted on sticking with this char. Yes, it brought you quite a few bonuses but you earned them yourself, without any help from the admins. And you only have the crazy programmer to thank for it."