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

For the next few seconds, the clan leader was silent, a confused look on his face. Then he narrowed his eyes.

“I see it’s unwise to borrow from you. You charge a hell of an interest rate!”

“That’s me, yeah,” I smirked.

You won’t kick anybody, I thought to myself. Olaf and Abel had already set the stage, and the clan’s financial performance in less than a month of my work had broken the all-time high. I had made a whole lot of money by selling the trash piled up in our storage facilities like dead weight. The warehouses were full of armor sets, elixirs, scrolls, and consumables, while clan accounts had an excess of two hundred thousand gold, and that’s despite the purchases. The third Keeper, Damian, was thrilled with my achievements, as I had released him from routine work.

“Take a look at this before making a decision,” I said, sending Komtur three files — the result of my labors. Several tables showed the estimated profits from centralized procurement of resources, our own logistics, and alliance orders.

As a leader and a strategist, he must have realized that combat strength first and foremost depended on economic power. And that right that very instant, he was offered an income stream that had the potential to become one of the main sources of revenue.

“You’re sitting on a goldmine, but let others do the digging,” I continued. “Or, rather, you did. Isn’t it frustrating for you that Phoenix gets all the profits?”

“Actually, Phoenix is the least of my worries,” Komtur chuckled, studying the files I had sent. “They’ve been a major pain in my neck. It’s good that you pushed them out, they’ve grown too bold, putting their feelers out everywhere at once. We might be friends, but even friendship has an limit — “

He stopped short, as if he had just slipped too much. All of a sudden, I realized that his anger wasn’t caused by my operation per se: he was mad because I had pulled it off without his knowledge. Essentially, we shared a lot of our goals: increase the revenue, shake down the carebears to get a few PvP players out of their ranks, and improve the standing and the influence of the Watchers.

“Then it’s a good thing it was done by a random guy,” I smirked.

“A random guy!” Komtur snorted. “We’re summoning the Council because of that random guy! Phoenix has talked my ears off because of him. Tao himself dances to this random guy’s tune! By the way, what was his price?”

“He owes me, too.”

“Do you work for the Golden Hamster, perchance? Are the Pandas in your debt, too?”

“Not yet,” I confessed. “But we’re working on it.”

“Well, well, well. I looked at your files. So, a half?”

“No less,” I said firmly. “I’m doing all the work. You just need to stand aside and get the money. I hope you can imagine the volume?”

“Yeah, that’s a lot of fussing. All right! One thing I don’t get is where would you find manned cargo ships to set up such a large-scale logistics system? You must realize you’ll need a lot of vessels. Will you pull it off?”

It was strange for me to hear that. Would I pull it off? In Sphere, cargo delivery was a profitable venture. Finding transporters wasn’t an issue, as long I was willing to pay. All I had to do was to make an effort. Controlling the acquisitions and logistics of a quarter of the continent was a tasty morsel that was worth all the pains.

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ve already found the ships and the people.”

* * *

The Mercenary Guild of the Bazaar was a far cry from the quiet tavern in Dan-na-Eyre. It looked like a classical amphitheater: an entire complex with a colonnade erected around an arena. Inside, like everywhere in the Bazaar, it was crowded. A bunch of fat, foppish tieflings, the stewards of the Guild, were poring over their tomes, quills in hand. Before them stood a long line of players and NPCs wishing to rent themselves out.

The arena below was used to show off the best fighters while also serving as a battleground. Creatures of various shapes and sizes scurried around.

While I was standing in line, I got two offers to make a bet; buy some water, wine, or a Scroll of Teleportation (to any world of the Sphere, cheaper than in the premium store...yeah, right); got almost knocked off my feet by a miniature winged quickling flying past; and was scanned by the blinding eye of a golem patrol that wanted to check my trustworthiness. Maybe I looked suspicious due to the hooded cloak that hid my nickname and status that I took to wearing to avoid chance meetings.

A long list of NPC names in the virtual interface of the Mercenary Guild slowly scrolled down before my eyes. The navigation system was asinine. Why couldn’t I filter by three skills and the price at the same time? Tired of the futile search, I put the list away, and it materialized as a thick yellow scroll. I coughed to draw the attention of one of the Guild’s administrators currently on duty.

A delicate “ahem” didn’t produce any results, unlike a shining gold coin that spun on the table and immediately found its place behind a clerk’s cuff.

“How can I help you, good sir?”

“I’m interested in mercenaries with the Navigation, Control Flying Ships, and Control Cargo Ships skills of at least rank four, capable of flying a ship. Only good reputation, no pirates or spies of pirate clans! Preferably long-term.”

“So you’re looking for a captain of a cargo ship...” The administrator scratched his chin. “It’s not that rare of a specialization, but it’s hard to find a decent sort.”

I guessed the reason for his hesitation and accidentally dropped a few more coins into