The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (top books to read TXT) 📕

chat and a few secure channels. Of course, if a threat arose, the combat clans would join together, assemble a raid, help each other out... Yet I wasn’t sure whether they would step up if something insignificant happened.

As I rummaged through the clan mail and read the battle reports on the forums, I slowly put the picture together. Of course, the Northerners’ territory was occasionally attacked. Usually, the invaders arrived from the south, the border of the endless Wild Field, or came by sea or by air from the west, the shores of Farsids. Some of them were in small groups, but sometimes it was big raids, too. If carebears were unable to fend off the attack, they started writing into secure channels that they were being killed, blocked at resp points, that their forts were burned... The Watchers always acted the same way: alerted everyone, called to arms, gathered a raid, and fought. In case of a mass invasion, allied combat clans — the Varangians, Enemy, and Sworn Brothers — came to help. Going by the forums, the latest large-scale war in the region had ended half a year ago and had been caused by Japanese clans trying to bite off a piece of the western coast. They had created a dozen outposts, even trying to destroy Enemy’s castle. After a month of constant battles, the warriors of the Northern Alliance had finally driven the Asians back to their continent.

Smaller groups, like raiders from the Wild Field, were hunted only up to a point, thanks to the enthusiasm of some raid leaders. Usually, less than a hundred players teams up and went on the offensive; the entire clan only rose up in case of a serious threat. I had managed to take part in one of such events — the battle at Old Crossroads.

Why did I spend time on studying all of that? My goal was simple. I wanted to take control of all trade in the region, becoming the link in the chain and the narrow bottleneck through which all commercial traffic of the tenants of my clan would flow — and ideally, the tenants of the entire alliance. Yes, I was going to become the intermediary between the population of the clan lands and the Bazaar market, and the only one at that.

The problem was, the locals didn’t need any intermediary. They handled everything themselves, sending mined resources to Eyre by caravans and to the Bazaar, by flying ships. Their cargo was impressive: ore and gems, crafted items, ingredients, and dungeon loot. I estimated its monthly value to be around one and a half or two million gold.

I needed to create a situation that would help me wedge into this scheme, and I saw only one option — a cruel, cynical, and violent one.

I wanted to seize control of the trade routes.

Shown on the map as blue dotted lines, they went through the yellow borderlands to merge in Dan-na-Eyre. There were three of such zones, forming a semi-circle around the kingdom from the east and separating it from the clan lands. That’s where I wanted to create controlled chaos. PK clans recruited by me — Black Don’s Nonames, Panther’s Gentlemen Bastards, and Artist’s Elven Patrol who joined them later — were to block all trade traffic in two of them.

The third one, located far to the south, long and stretched, like a sausage, presented a problem. That territory held the majority of trading routes, and flying ships usually made their short haul runs through there. It needed someone able to crush a well-guarded caravan and shoot down an astral cargo ship. I decided to entrust this job to Tao, who was in my debt, and his elite warriors. I was aware that the risks were high, but so were the bets. If things panned out, I would get a stable income of half a million per month. It would be less after deducting the fees of all participants, but still. I would also carve a place in the world, earning reputation and making a name for myself. Of course, all of it was supposed to look completely natural: an influx of PKers, mayhem on the border, and a solution able to deal with all the problems at once. If I failed...well, it was worth it. I would find another way to profit, especially seeing as I had already gotten the hang of the game, even securing the initial capital.

The hardest thing in the whole affair was to cover my guys from the Watchers and avoid getting busted at the same time. That was something I had to do myself.

As for the ethics of it, I didn’t care one bit. Generally speaking, I was starting a new event, entertaining everyone, bringing PvP right to their doorstep, so nobody would be bored. Some would find their fun robbing caravans, while others would hunt them. And I — I would make money. Not much; just a little bit.

The carebears? I had no concern for their pain over their lost cargo. Sphere was a cruel world. They were my allies only on a technicality. They had mines, dungeons, locations full of respawning mobs — soon, they would reimburse all their losses, and more. Some of them may even take a liking to PvP, fueled by anger and a desire to pay back their attackers. Win-win!

* * *

 

The road twisted and turned among hills, overgrown with lush green groves. Far on the horizon loomed the grey fangs of North Belt, covered in a misty haze. Three provinces behind them was Eyre, the capital of the kingdom; the way there was familiar and safe.

That’s exactly why Klian, the head wagoner, was so surprised when around the corner, two figures appeared out of the blue and blocked the road. They were players, Klian realized. They often hunted around those parts, asking for some tasks. He winced, thinking of a