Battle for the North (Rogue Merchant Book #4): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (the dot read aloud .TXT) 📕

“But who are ‘they’?” I asked.

“Svechkin’s already started awakening the others. The Compass will allow him to easily find their hideouts. He’ll brainwash them, turn them against me. Keep me posted. Record all conversations. I need your information, and when the time comes, your help.”

I was completely fine with his offer. Basically, until I decided on my plan of escaping the surveillance, everything unfolded in the best way possible. Let both sides of the big game think that I was working for them — while I had no master but myself. Of course, eventually, they would enter a direct conflict, but I hoped to find an escape route before that happened — preferably one that wouldn’t leave me any poorer.

“All right, I understand,” I said, nodding again. “That reminds me — I finished your mission in the Hole. What about a reward? I remember being promised the equivalent of a million gold.”

“I’m not sure you’ve completed it,” the Magister said, frowning. “The Compass is still with Svechkin, and he escaped with the Key.”

“But I did everything I could,” I pushed on.

“No, Cat. The agreement was simple: you bring the Compass, I give you the reward. Where’s the Compass? You don’t have it? Then what reward are we talking about? Be happy I’m not forcing you to return the advance payment.” Balabanov smiled.

“Fine, then I have a small question about game mechanics,” I continued, unfazed. “It involves the sword and its Soul Eater affix. How do I release the stolen souls?”

“Try using this ability as seldom as possible.” The Magister’s expression turned darker. “The procedural generator has a rather skittish reaction to stealing souls. The effects can be unpredictable.”

“But the Pandas — ”

“That’s why Sphere went haywire in the first place — because a certain someone decided to abuse glitches in their own interests!” Balabanov suddenly stood up. “This isn’t a good example. Pandorum likes playing with fire, but when you mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

“As for your question, for every action, there is a reaction, and if there isn’t, the Law of Balance will create one. The counterpart of Soul Stealing is the Release Souls ability, an extremely rare gem affix. Artifactors can create glorts, special items that can control this effect. Does your sword have anyone dangerous sealed inside?”

“Not anymore,” I replied. “I’m asking just in case.”

The Magister didn’t look convinced but didn’t elaborate. The conversation was over; priorities sorted out, mission accepted. I bid him a short goodbye and teleported to Condor. The Watcher’s castle was the third target on Pandorum’s list, and its siege was scheduled in six hours. Going by the ambitious preparations, it was the place where the Northerners were going to make their final stand.

Packs of birdies whisked around the castle, covering the airships as they were being loaded. Straight lines of armed NPCs marched along the gangways, carrying yellow-green banners with the image of a barley ear: the warriors of Eyre. Their regiments filled the walls and the archways of the Cloud Castle: the majority were ordinary archers and swordsmen commanded by nobles and armor-clad grandees.

“What are we doing here?” The soldier closest to me, an old veteran with a grey mustache, narrowed his eyes, repeating my question as he wound up the levers of a heavy siege crossbow. He slowed down a little, like all NPCs did when getting a confusing question, but immediately relaxed when he noticed the golden circle hanging on my chest — the mark of a Friend of the Nation.

“You came to help us when our enemies attacked Eyre. Our Err decided that we must return the debt, and I agree with him!”

Both in the clan hall and the arcade circling Condor, I constantly came across players from other clans marked as allies. I had never seen some of those tags before. More and more new groups kept appearing and disappearing in the flashing castle teleporter, causing a jam. It looked almost the same as when the Northerners’ raid had gone to the Golden Fairs to fight Ananizarte. Watching this hustle and bustle, I even felt a flush of fighting spirit.

I went down to Weldy’s chambers, hoping to get her to Eyre and ask her to hide in the Err’s castle. A battle would start in a few hours, and Endved wouldn’t refuse me such a trivial request.

However, fate decided otherwise. The door was ajar, the room empty. Weldy’s belongings were scattered all over the place as if their owner had left in a hurry. Frederick, her erstwhile companion, was missing as well. That was strange — Weldy hated crowds and preferred to stay in her room while the castle was full of people.

There was no sign of her in the alchemic laboratory, where several players and NPCs were busy brewing potions and elixirs. I felt an unpleasant chill down my spine — I didn’t like this at all.

“Weldy?” Damian, who happened to be nearby, raised his eyebrow. “Ah, Weldy. No, I haven’t seen her. I think they carted away the important NPCs this morning. Ask Olaf; maybe he knows.”

I opened up the clan list. Komtur and two-thirds of our members were fighting another battle. The alliance was dead set on defending each province, and not a single outpost was left undefended. Consumables and munitions dwindled from the warehouses by the minute. Even the first day of constant combat, where everyone had died dozens of times, came at a great cost to the clan.

Olaf, Olaf the Prophet, the grey cardinal of the Watchers and the entire Northern Alliance... He hid behind our leaders’ back, pulling the strings of the unseen gears that upheld any community. Not a single important decision was made without his approval, and all commanders, without exception, listened to his recommendations. Olaf was in Condor, and I found him on one of the balconies of