Fiction | Short story | Fantasy | Humor | LitRPG

Meanwhile, the NPCs… (part 2)

A fantasy LitRPG short story by J. F. Danskin

This is a fantasy LitRPG short story by J. F. Danskin. What’s LitRPG? Find out here. Want to know more about the characters? This story takes place 6 months after my web-novel, Sorcerer. And this story explains the background to the game world.

And read part 1 of this story right here.

“You fucked that up big time,” snapped Alcar.

Since being ejected from the royal palace, the four adventurers had paused on the busy tree-lined boulevard outside.

Zaxon now squared up to the sorcerer, and Leppie had to stand between the pair — though Alcar looked just as ready to take a shot at the bigger man.

“You’re talking dung,” sneered Zaxon in response.

“And you’re a useless waste of space,” hissed Alcar. “We’d be better off without a fighter than having one like you.”

The smile disappeared from Zaxon’s bearded face, and the barbarian aimed a punch at Alcar; Leppie acted just in time, pushing Zaxon back.

“Come on now, Alcar,” said Etienne calmly, observing the scuffle from behind the sorcerer without attempting to intervene. He spat out whatever weed he had been chewing. “Zaxon’s part of our group now. And he did kill that orc.”

Alcar shook his head, looking from one side to the other as if a better fighter might be just about to walk past. “Any fool can carry a sword. Can’t we recruit a Dubasan mercenary or something?”

“A bounty hunter? Are you serious?” said Etienne.

“It’s got to be better than this… thing,” Alcar responded, pointing his finger towards Zaxon’s face.

The big warrior responded by taking a step back and trying again to punch Alcar.

“Cool it, big guy,” said Leppie, now clutching Zaxon from behind, her hands around his burnished leather cuirass. “The sorcerer is just upset that we lost out on the payday.”

“Exactly,” spat Alcar. “Smashing things, flirting with the princess — what the hell, dude?”

“I would have been great,” said Zaxon. “Strong. The pretty lady made a big mistake.”

Alcar just shook his head, staring at the ground. “Well, it’s done now.”

“Unless…” Etienne was looking up at his comrades with a thoughtful smile.

“What are you thinking, thief?” demanded Leppie, looking around at the halfling.

As his companions stepped back from the near-confrontation and began to focus on him, Etienne rubbed his hands together. “We’ve not been cut out completely, correct?” he said. “So, all we need to do is make sure that the princess doesn’t get a better offer in the next fortnight, then stroll in and pick up the prize — or at least the map.”

Alcar now folded his arms, scowling. “How the hell can we stop other adventurers from going for this? When word gets out that there’s a thousand crowns on the table…” He shook his head.

Etienne shrugged. “But word hasn’t gotten out. Not yet. If we act now, get local kids to spread misinformation, and pull down any notices that are placed in taverns…” He smiled.

“Hmm,” murmured Alcar.

“And then we will need to bribe some servants,” continued the halfling, glancing up towards the palace. “If any other groups come to the palace, we need to have someone on the inside telling them to visit the princess’s summer house in the heart of the mountains.”

“What summer house?” asked Leppie.

Etienne nodded, and then winked. “Exactly. The marvelous and fictitious Chateaux von Dathmir, sited on hot springs near the dwarven trade road. And it’s only two weeks’ journey, there and back.”

“Wait. Are you talking about deceiving people?” said Leppie, frowning.

“It’s for the greater good, dear Leppie. Besides — don’t we all need the payday?”

Alcar stood staring at the halfling. He was angry still, but — not for the first time — Etienne had impressed him with his unscrupulous cunning. “Very well, then,” he said, rubbing at his short beard as he began to think through the logistics. “Can you arrange all of that?”

Etienne smiled. “I’ll need five silvers from each of you to pay the urchins. Then I can really get started.”

With a sigh, Alcar reached inside his shabby gray cloak and pulled out his coin pouch, grumbling as he counted out coins. Only eleven silver moons were left, and he still needed to buy food.

“I can write fake posters myself to distract from the real ones,” added Etienne. “But when it comes to the palace workers, I’ll need more. Ten gold from every one of us.”

Alcar paused and stared at the halfling. “Ten gold? I don’t have that sort of money.”

Etienne gave only the merest of shrugs. “An estimate. But it costs a lot to bribe palace workers. Why do you think anyone wants to work there? It’s not for love of the monarchy, I can tell you.”

“I’d quite happily serve the princess’s every need,” said Zaxon, grinning stupidly as he counted coins onto his meaty palm. Alcar noticed that while the big man was holding many coins, most were low-value copper riggs.

They were all equally broke.

“Don’t go there, kid,” said Etienne. “She might have a pretty face and an athlete’s body, but people don’t become rulers without selling their soul to at least one demon. Now, everyone — pay up, or the plan is off.”

“I can’t,” said Dagmir. “I am down to my last crown, Etienne. Besides, I don’t think I can wait a fortnight, even if I had any faith in your plan.”

“Can’t you just pray for more gold or something?” the rogue shot back.

“Etienne!” She shook her head sadly. “Blasphemy is your worst trait, though it has plenty of competition.”

Alcar stepped forward, placing one hand on Etienne’s shoulder and one on Leppie’s. “I have to agree, actually. I am strapped for cash too. And even if we do win this contract, I need to pay my rent before then.” He shrugged.

“Well, if you must live in the Merchant’s Quarter…” murmured Etienne.

“Perhaps we could find out about this Raven Mountain ourselves?” suggested Alcar. “If it’s really only one mountain, then there can’t be that many places where treasure could be.”

“It’s on the borders of my homeland, beyond the Trollbone Hills and the Badlands,” announced Zaxon, pulling out his greatsword and slashing it towards the lower branch of a nearby elm tree.

As he did so, an off-duty palace servant walked past and only narrowly ducked the practice swing, then pulled back against the tree trunk, a terrified look on her face. She was a girl of no more than eighteen years.

“Oh — sorry,” muttered Zaxon.

Etienne hurried over to the servant and began to whisper reassuring words in the young woman’s ear, and Alcar could see that the plan was already in motion. He turned to glare at the barbarian warrior, but the big man now looked unconcerned by his near miss.

“You know your way to this mountain?” asked Leppie.

“I have a tremendous memory, healer! Strong, like my body!” Zaxon clenched his fists.

Etienne was still whispering to the servant, but he now returned as she hurried on her way, and flipped a thumbs up. “Progress,” he said, “but we might need to call in a few favors. I just promised to give that girl’s family twenty gold by the end of the week.”

“Great,” murmured Leppie. “This plan is a mess.”

“We’ll see,” said Etienne. “I’ll get to work. The rest of you, see what you can do. Even if you have to sell a few things, it will be worth it.”

“I could gamble, and win contests of strength,” suggested Zaxon.

Alcar grunted, trying his best to suppress his irritation at the barbarian. “I’ll do some research at my master’s library. Find out anything I can about this mountain, and any dungeons that lie beneath it. Perhaps we can find our own map.”

Etienne nodded, clapping Alcar on the back. “Good, good. Then let’s all meet at the Black Mackerel at sundown tomorrow to share our progress.”

Alcar was keen to hurry home and check on his faithful bloodhound, Brutus. However, his way home from the palace took him very close to where Master Maluhk lived, and so it made sense to stop there now, rather than leaving it until the morning.

Like many of the magic users in the city, Maluhk lived in the Merchant’s Quarter. Merchants made up the minority of people in the area, but almost everyone was wealthy, and had houses to show this off. The streets themselves were sparkling clean, with well-tended trees and gleaming bronze drains throughout.

After about twenty minutes, Alcar began to approach Maluhk’s dwelling. Ahead, the huge but unused fortification that crested the western city wall cast a shadow across the nearest buildings. Near the tip of this shadow lay a two-level square tower with a slate roof — Maluhk’s home, and the place where Alcar had first encountered sorcery.

Alcar knocked and waited, hearing an elaborate bout of coughing followed by a thump, and finally footsteps approaching. A gray-green orcish face appeared at the door; the kind of face that would make most people in the city reach for their weapons.

“Master,” said Alcar.

“Oh — it’s you.” Unsmiling, Maluhk ushered his former apprentice into the compact lobby area inside the door. “What do you want?”

The master sorcerer was a half-orc. While the orcish side predominated in his appearance, he couldn’t be more different from full-blood orcs of the realm, who were cave-dwelling raiders in the main. The finest sorcerer in the province, Maluhk was a scholar with a pinpoint attention to detail, but had a weakness when it came to his appetites. After years of overeating, the sorcerer was one of the largest people Alcar had ever seen.

Today, Maluhk was wearing red velvet robes sashed at the waist with a short length of cord, and held a long, intricately-carved pipe, emitting a sweet, narcotic-laced smoke.

“I need anything you’ve got relating to Raven Mountain,” said Alcar sharply. “It’s for a mission with Etienne and the others.”

“For fuck’s sake, Alcar,” said the master sorcerer, stepping back towards the staircase that rose up behind him. “Can’t you settle down and get on with your studies instead of running around with those no-hopers?”

Alcar frowned. On some level, he knew that Maluhk was right. On the other hand, he enjoyed adventuring — at least, he had enjoyed it with the old party. He also knew better than to contradict his master directly.

“The thing is, we seek an orb, a relic of Gaax van Genke, Master Maluhk,” he said. “The princess herself is desperate to get hold of it.”

“Ha!” said Master Maluhk, puffing out a lungful of smoke. “Along with the rest of the Empire.”

Alcar’s heart sank. “You mean…?”

Maluhk nodded. “Yes, boy. Those artifacts are desired by many, not least the Emperor’s elite force, the Knights of Dawn.” The master sorcerer then narrowed his purple eyes. “But wait — you’re not…?”

“Working for the Varians? No! Absolutely not, Master. We spoke to von Dathmir today, and we hope to win the artifact for her.” Alcar elected not to mention Etienne’s idea of selling it to the highest bidder.

Maluhk sniffed. “Well then. As I said, such artifacts are greatly sought after, so it won’t be an easy task. Perhaps impossible. However…” The bulky sorcerer gestured inwards, before turning and walking towards the main room.

“Thank you,” said Alcar, and followed.

In the rectangular room beyond, the far wall was lined with books; otherwise, it contained only a long, low table with a silver tray on top, and a comfortable-looking wicker reclining chair. “So, the princess has this map,” Alcar continued.

“Mm-hmm. Then why do you need my help?”

“Umm… I am just looking for info on the mountain, anything that would give us a clue, if we manage to win the map.”

Maluhk fixed Alcar with a baleful look. “So you didn’t actually get this map from von Dathmir?”

Alcar shook his head.

With a sigh, the master sorcerer shook his head slowly. “I’ll see what I can find in my study upstairs.” Maluhk put his pipe carefully down on the silver tray. “Keep an eye on that pipe — I don’t want my home catching fire. Not again.”

As Maluhk left the room, Alcar stepped over to the bookcase. Perhaps there would be something here that his master had overlooked — or chosen not to mention. One volume caught his eye:

Guide to the Badlands of Khranul

by J. W. Fjordsman

He flipped open the book. The first chapter described many of the peoples that were frequently seen in the border provinces, from elves to felaxians, as well a rarer sentient species from the interior of the Felesian continent. Further chapters moved on to rivers, mountains… It was a dense read, and Alcar would need time to search for details. He quietly slipped it inside his cloak.

Further along on the same shelf was a bashed-looking book that also sounded like it could be relevant:

The Fall of Dathmir

by C. Champion

Well, that would have information about the orb, surely? Alcar began to flip through the volume, and paused on a page that described the fall of Dathmir to the Empire. Disappointingly there was nothing to be seen on van Genke, and overall the information appeared over-simplistic. An image showed Dathmiri knights and Imperial forces smiling and shaking hands at the end of a battle.

Surely that never happened?

As he slid the book back, something else caught Alcar’s eye — a damaged volume at the far end of a lower shelf. Its title couldn’t even be read, but there was something about the purple leather binding that he had seen before…

He carefully pulled it out, realizing immediately that it was beyond damaged — there wasn’t more than half of the book left.

Control of Infernal Servants

by S. Goatsman

Inside, the first page had been handwritten in ink of various colors, like a set of field notes. At the top corner was the name ‘Vakella’. Most of the book was printed, however, and as Alcar scrolled through, he paused on a diagram of a humanoid figure within multiple circles. More hand-written notes had been scribbled around the anatomy of the figure. These were mysterious indeed…

‘cruel streak’;

‘reacts unpredictably’;

‘don’t feed after midnight’.

What exactly was all that about?

The figure in the diagram was humanoid, certainly. Female. A horned head and slightly pointed teeth indicated something from one of the demonic realms. But there was no denying the appealing curves of her body. At the top of the page, this time in Maluhk’s handwriting, was a note that read:

Useless; no ingredient list.

It was at that moment that Alcar remembered where he had seen the purple-leather binding before. The text from the cave had a purple back cover that matched this exactly. Could it be the back of the very same book?

Excitedly, Alcar flicked back to the inside front cover with its hand-written field notes. As he did so, he saw a set of comments that caused him to stop dead, his heart thumping:

I have come across something strange, and wish to write it down before I forget…

This was scribbled out, and followed by a further inscription in the same writing:

A mysterious form of magic came to me today. It could be a new discovery, and I must…

Again this was scored out, with a further couple of sentences that had been written now rendered unreadable. Finally, the following appeared on the page, underneath the final area of scoring out:

I have just come across something new, strange, and magical, and wish to record this before it slips from my mind.

It is not a spell, as far as I can understand, but an enchantment of sorts used by Hack Hardhelm, with whom I have been traveling. When he sleeps, he says: ‘log on’ and ‘log off’. I have heard it, but never seen it in action — but somehow it renders him invisible, or perhaps (I suspect) takes him to an alternate dimension.

This incantation did nothing when I tried it, but today I heard him also utter the phrases ‘location info’ and ‘wealth’, and I have been repeating these in my head, trying not to forget them. And when I expressed these with particular firmness and conviction, I finally experienced the ‘mind magic’ that Maleki told me of.

I think that it is possible that Hack is one of the legendary wayfarers…

Here, the page ended; the next one was missing.

Alcar felt a smile spread across his face. Could it be that the previous owner of the book in his hand had experienced what had happened to him in the cave? The mysterious mind-writing? He flicked through the book again, but frustratingly, there was nothing further.

Returning to the front page, he narrowed his eyes, looking over the mysterious comment again. There came a thump from upstairs, but when Alcar glanced over towards the doorway, there was still no sign of Maluhk.

“Location info,” murmured Alcar.

Nothing happened.

But wait — perhaps he had to speak silently, as had happened in the cave? Alcar tried this now. He stared hard at Maluhk’s smoking pipe — which had now fallen to the side, depositing most of its tobacco and ash across the silver tray — and tried his best to focus.

Location info, he yelled inside his head.

This time, mysterious white-blue letters began to dance before his eyes, before coalescing into a box.

The home of Maluhk the Sorcerer in the Merchant’s Quarter in Katresburg, the most ancient city in Sefindarg Province. It is located between the Ironrock Mountains and the Great Swamp, in the western reaches of the Varian Empire.

The letters hung there, occupying around a third of his field of vision, before fading away.

“What… the… fuck?” murmured Alcar.

Just then, Maluhk walked back into the room, and Alcar immediately snapped the book shut and thrust it inside his cloak alongside the other guide.

“I haven’t found much yet,” said the master sorcerer as he looked up at his apprentice, “but I’ll keep…” He fell silent, looking suspiciously at the younger man. “Everything all right, Alcar?”

“Yeah, Master. But I think I’d better be going. Thanks anyway.”

Still feeling stunned, Alcar took a step towards the door.

Back home, Alcar stroked Brutus’s head, then picked up a strip of the fresh boar meat that he had bought on his way back. He threw it; the scrap arced across the room. Brutus bounded after, his claws rattling on the wooden floor.

Since leaving Maluhk’s home, Alcar had experimented with the location info and wealth commands, and these now came easily to him. He had also managed to repeat the incantation that he had accidentally used in the cave, finding that the mysterious magic responded to certain synonyms like ‘status’. Regardless, the information was always in the same format — and always perfectly accurate.

His experiments with countless other commands had been fruitless, however:

Sleep.

Dinner.

Fireball.

The effect was the same every time: nothing. None of them had produced a magical effect of any kind.

Clearly, he needed to learn more from the practitioners of this mysterious and silent art — one of whom had once owned the damaged book that he had now crudely threaded together.

The book about the wilderness of Khranul had provided a few insights, it was true, including a chapter describing local cave systems. It fell a long way short of a treasure map, however.

Were they really going to rely on Zaxon’s memory of the place, or on what gossip could be gained from palace servants?

With a sigh, Alcar pushed the stolen guidebook aside, and returned to the image of the demonic woman in the damaged purple book, with its notes alongside.

Useless; book damaged, no ingredient list.

Well, perhaps not any more. Was it possible that he could summon a demonic servant? If so, perhaps he truly could find a replacement for Zaxon… Alcar shook his head at the thought of the infuriating barbarian. If this worked, though, they could replace Zaxon with a more reliable ally. She wouldn’t need pay, and perhaps not food or rest, either.

And if the worst were to happen, then why — he could just summon another.

Reacts unpredictably.

“Well,” murmured Alcar to himself, “you can’t have everything.”

Brutus nuzzled at him, and he threw another piece of meat. When the hound returned, chewing, and rested his head in its customary place on the wizard’s lap once more, Alcar looked down, smiling. “We’re going to have a new companion, Brutus,” he said softly. “Someone smart, who won’t leave your master at the mercy of a vicious warrior.”

“Hrrr…uff!” said Brutus.

Alcar got up from his chair, still holding the book open at the ingredient list, and began to gather some of the items. He knew that his supply cupboard fell well short of what any self-respecting witch would have, and there was little doubt that Maluhk would have more, too. All the same, he thought, reading on, he did have many of these things already:

lorif root, crushed

snaggleweed

flax seed — a silver spoonful

five crushed silverberries

three drops of the blood of an orcish warrior

an entire nail from the spellcaster’s toe

allow a number of hours for full effects

Soon, Alcar had busied himself with the tedious job of pounding up the lorif root. Pound, pound, pound. There ought to be a way of making such jobs easier. He briefly considered a system where kobolds would turn a handle in an adjoining room, and this would attach to a pole, and from there to the mortar and pestle…

But wait — what was he thinking? After his new apprentice had been summoned, she would do these jobs for him!

This was going to be good.

He looked back at the book once more. He had done well, but besides the painful business of the toenail, there was one ingredient that would have to wait until the morning to be begged, borrowed, stolen, or at worst, purchased…

Wealth.

Alcar spoke the word silently, and saw an update:

Copper: 17

Silver: 9

Gold: 1

He sighed, gathering up a few scraps of Dubasan weed that he had uncovered during his search of his cupboards. He didn’t often indulge, but could do with a smoke to calm his thoughts. Brutus had now curled up on his pile of blankets in the small antechamber off the main room. His work done — at least as much as he could — the sorcerer leaned back and muttered an incantation to light his rustic wooden pipe. He then uncorked a half-empty bottle of Zagran red, and took a swig.

Before long, as he smoked and drank, Alcar’s thoughts returned to the mind-writing — or mind magic — again. The world has some kind of system, he thought to himself. On reflection, that should have been obvious all along.

This was only the beginning, he knew. He obviously needed to explore these powerful secrets further. With a new apprentice-servant to earn some coin on his behalf, he would at last have the capacity to do it.

The only trouble was, he might need to put his plan with Etienne and the others on hold…

The next morning, as Alcar passed Royal Avenue on his way towards Etienne’s house, he briefly wondered whether mind-writing was a part of sorcery. But no — that didn’t follow. For if so, then surely his master would have taught him this trick, and other apprentices at the citadel would have spoken of it. Besides, sorcery always involved spoken words and focus.

Always.

He turned at the dwarven locksmith’s shop on the corner, made his way down the side street, and then ascended the narrow set of white marble stairs that rose up towards an entrance of Etienne’s residence. The small door, he saw, was already open. At the top, he stopped, rapped gently with his staff, and peeked inside.

The scene inside was much as he had expected, which is to say, Etienne’s home was never predictable. The halfling rogue was currently sitting cross-legged on a large rounded stool, tinkering with a mechanical contraption of some kind. His floppy hair fell across his face as he looked at it. At his feet, two large lizards were scuttling about, and there was a bird perched on his shoulder. Apparently it, too, was interested in the metal object.

Despite the lack of a response, Alcar ducked under the low doorway, and then strode into the room, peering at what was in the halfling’s hands. Etienne was a deeply greedy individual, and Alcar strongly suspected that this was a treasure found on their recent adventure which had somehow found its way into the little rogue’s pockets prior to the meagre loot being divided among the partners.

“What have you got, my friend?” he asked, in a tone that probably didn’t sound too friendly.

Etienne looked up. “Ah-hah! Alcar. I was just thinking about you, man. I was mulling over what you were saying to me the other day, and then I had a brainwave.” The halfling stood up from his stool and hurried over; the object he had been holding disappeared from view — presumably back into a pocket — and the bird took flight, now circling Alcar’s head. The sorcerer flapped at it, and it proceeded to rise to a high window above them, landing on the sill and ejecting a blob of droppings from its rear. The lizards, meanwhile, circled at high speed two or three times, before scuttling off into an adjoining room.

Ignoring the commotion, Etienne walked right past his companion and leaned on the edge of a modestly-sized desk that was tucked behind the doorway. “Look,” he said, nodding towards it.

“Look at what, exactly?” Alcar strode over and peered down. The desk was covered with small scraps of parchment, each perfectly square, and each with names written upon them.

“The pieces are falling into place,” said the halfling, gesturing vaguely at his work area. “The person I want to introduce you to is usually at the tavern where we are meeting later.”

Alcar smiled tensely, and put a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “About that. The thing is, I’ve got some stuff to do. I’m not sure I’ll make it.”

“What?” exclaimed Etienne. “But we need you there.”

“I’m sure you can manage without me.”

Etienne frowned deeply. “We’re a team.”

“We had some good times, I’ll be the first to say it…” Alcar raised his hands in a partial shrug. “Just give me a few days, and perhaps I will have sorted things.”

Etienne grunted and pulled away. “I suppose.” The white bird cawed from above, and then fluttered downwards again to alight on the halfling’s shoulder.

“Also,” added Alcar, “I do need to borrow something from you, if I may? Do you still keep a supply of snaggleweed? It’s hard to get hold of in the city.”

Etienne raised an eyebrow. “Going back to smoking, are you?”

“Something like that.”

The halfling nodded. “Sure. But it’s two silver for a bundle.” As he spoke, he stepped back over to the desk, and slid out one of the drawers.

“I need five.”

“Five bundles?” Etienne looked around at his companion. “You’re going to develop a habit.” But he proceeded to take out five of the little bundles of dried leaf, each about as wide as his thumb and wrapped with a thin black cord. He held them in his cupped hands, but did not hand them over.

“But seriously, Alcar. Never mind the silver. I need you on this mission. Things are moving fast with the urchins, and I am keeping the family of the servant talking… don’t pull out on us now, man!”

Alcar sighed. “I’d hate to let you down. It’s just that I have developed a new interest that will take some focus.”

“Ha!” Etienne clenched his teeth, shaking his head in apparent frustration. “This is about your mind-writing, isn’t it, Alcar?” The halfling moved closer, raising the bundles of leaf in his clenched hands. “This obsession can wait, Alcar. Believe me — smoke enough of this and you’ll be seeing more than parchments inside your mind.”

“I dunno…”

“Come on, stick to the plan! For the love of the princess and the city. Not to mention the reward.”

Alcar hesitated. He was as fond of coin as the next sorcerer, it was true. But at the same time, he wasn’t convinced that Etienne’s plan was on a sound footing. And another trip with Zaxon in tow… “I just…” he began.

“Don’t say it!” interrupted Etienne. “I’ll give you this leaf gratis. Just be there at the tavern tonight, and we can talk.”

Alcar hesitated, thinking. While a summoned companion might negate the need for an adventuring party, he needed Etienne’s supplies if he was to begin at all.

“Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll be there. Let’s just hope that the others have come up with the gold to pay the servants.”

Etienne narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and then nodded.

Alcar held out his hand, again, and after Etienne had deposited the five little bundles onto his palm, he closed his fingers around them.

This was it. He had the last ingredient.

The bird squawked.

Click here to access the third and final part of this fantasy tale by J. F. Danskin!

I am a Scottish writer of LitRPG, gamelit and historical fantasy. This short story connects to my Shadow Kingdoms stories and novels.

My other recent works include the Sparta Online LitRPG trilogy, as well as several short stories — including further adventures featuring Alcar and his companions — here on Medium.

Here’s a link to all my books and sites.

You can keep up to date with news and releases via my Facebook author page. And check out the stories below. Happy reading!