Battle for the North (Rogue Merchant Book #4): LitRPG Series Read online

  Battle for the North

  by Roman Prokofiev

  Rogue Merchant

  Book #4

  Magic Dome Books

  Rogue Merchant

  Book #4: Battle for the North

  Copyright © Roman Prokofiev 2021

  Cover Art © Vladimir Manyukhin 2021

  English translation copyright © Sofia Shcherbakova 2021

  Published by Magic Dome Books, 2021

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 978-80-7619-253-9

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the shop and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

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  Table of Contents:

  Chapter 1

  Interlude: Pandorum

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Interlude: The Admins

  Chapter 4

  Interlude: Northerners

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Interlude: Cey-Rus

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Interlude: Phantom

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Interlude: Yamato

  Chapter 13

  Interlude: Panther

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Interlude: The Admins

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Interlude: Vera

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Interlude: The Watchers

  Chapter 20

  Interlude: Revenge

  Chapter 21

  Interlude: The Admins

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Interlude: Agasyan

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  AS I APPEARED in the center of the Condor clan hall, a busy crowd surrounded me. I had never seen so many people in the castle: it was like a market square on a festival day. Birdies scurried in the air non-stop, and astral ships moored to the berths, bringing in more and more groups of players.

  I was pushed back from the castle respawn circle by the newly arriving Watchers. Someone was logging in every second, and the raid already numbered more than eight hundred people. Slightly annoyed, Balian spoke on the common Courier voice channel, probably repeating the same thing for the hundredth time.

  Balian the Raccoon: Raid composition’s pinned. Gear and armor contracts are for the entire alliance. PM me when you’re ready. I’ll check your equipment and assign you to a group.

  Brontosaurus: I don’t see any heavy armor contracts. Only leather and cloth remain.

  Balian the Raccoon: What do you mean? Was everything already taken? Three hundred sets? Who else has the rights to clan storage? Damian, HotCat, make a hundred more alliance contracts.

  Jeez, they found work for me as soon as I logged in and opened Courier. Cursing inwardly, I pressed on through the ring-shaped gallery around Condor, simultaneously opening the clan storage interface and stamping out contracts based on the template in the pinned message.

  It was an interesting selection. On top of basic Healing Potions, Antidotes, Regeneration Potions, and elixirs of resistance to various types of damage, there were unusual oils adding light damage to coated weapons. I had never seen anything like that used in PVP raids. There was also a set of rare scrolls: Eagle Eye, Arrow of Luck, Spirit of Archer — powerful buffs increasing range of fire and damage. All four pieces of armor were blue with bonuses to Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity. That’s what I had bought at the Bazaar per the Watchers list. The most curious thing came at the end: besides basic arrows, the package contained masterwork items: darkwood shafts, mithril tips, each with a powerful blessing given by a true priest of the gods of Light — unique ammunition crafted by two blacksmiths. I was starting to realize that this raid was going to be far from conventional.

  Balian the Raccoon: What do you mean, not enough money? Are you a noob? Borrow from the clan. You’ll get compensated after the battle, standard terms!

  Each contract cost fifty-five hundred gold — quite a bit, but such was the bare cost of a raid set. Standard compensation meant that after the raid, a player could return the gear to the clan and get the money back or, in case of losing the items in battle, get compensation. As for why everyone had to wear the same equipment, I had a general idea — the raid leader had to know what each combat unit was capable of, what DPS they could deal, and what buffs or spells they could use. Tactics depended on that.

  After dealing with the contract, I quickly changed my own gear and messaged Balian. Without a word, Raccoon moved me from the main channel, buzzing with hundreds of voices, into the sixteenth group, where I was happy to discover the nicknames of Valkyrie, Flame, Nico, and AlexOrder. Balian’s head was really like a conference room — how did he manage to remember which of several hundred active players worked well with each other? I would have never pulled that off. Not everyone could look at a bustling shouting crowd and see a cohesive raid system composed of various groups. I reassured myself that thousands of lines full of auction lots probably looked just as insane to a raid leader. To each their own.

  Finding a group in a castle teeming with players turned out to be harder than I expected, even despite the marks on my map. I hugged Alex, shook Flame’s and Nico’s hands, and got an air kiss from Valkyrie.

  Komtur: Who jumped to Fairs through the clan portal again? Come back, [censored]! Cut it out, people. There was no order! I said, scouts only!

  Komtur: All right, guys, stop screwing around, follow orders! Gather in the castle; nobody goes there!

  A commotion, a clutter, swearing in the chatrooms... Almost a thousand players had already joined the raid, and considering that everyone had an NPC companion or two, the total number looked very impressive. I saw the tags of all PVP clans in the alliance — Watchers, Enemy, Heroes, Brethren, Unity, and Varangians. Everyone had come; it was my first time seeing such a massive raid.

  “Will Komtur lead the raid?” I asked Alex. The bearded runemaster shook his head.

  “I don’t think so. Too many people, that’s out of his league. I guess it will be Mook.”

  Nico let out a reverential whistle. Of course! Evil Mook was another legend of the Russian-speaking community, one of the most experienced, tough, and uncompromising PVP raid leaders. Enemy, his clan, had started out as a group of PKers who terrorized newbies and farmers. They retained their core members and were considered to be the most experienced and skilled fighters of the Northerners, equal to the hardcore pros from the Watchers.

  I scrolled through the Courier channels. That messenger was really something else — it had supplanted all other communications platforms thanks to its customization options. At the moment, everything was set up by the classic scheme: the raid leaders had a separate chatroom, ev
eryone could hear them, and they could hear only the group leaders, scouts, and other essential players. In the command chat, I also noticed several unfamiliar nicknames tagged as Phoenix, Horde, and even Hird. Apparently, something truly grandiose was about to happen if they needed communication with our major allies.

  In the meantime, a young, slightly raspy voice started talking. It belonged to the aforementioned Mook.

  Evil Mook: Hi all, noobs! Thanks for coming. We didn’t expect this turnout. A thousand, awesome!

  Several people wrote in the chat that he was a noob and an amateur. Banter and snark were par for the course in the alliance; subordination didn’t matter. Mook laughed, content, and spoke up.

  Evil Mook: All right, so for those who don’t know me, I have two rules. First, don’t flood the channel and the chat. Second, always assist. Those who shitpost and don’t attack primary targets will become primary targets. I’m not joking.

  Evil Mook: There are many of us today, so targets will be given out by ten...no, twelve callers. I’m going to assign them, and they’ll pick out reserve callers in case they die. The battle will be hard. Release your pawns as soon as we go through the portal, but for now, we’ll only need support, heal, and ranged DPS. Most likely, we’ll be attacking from a distance, aiming at flying targets.

  The edge of the yellow sun appeared above the jagged ridges of the horizon. It was almost seven in the morning. I expected a pentagram, but instead, all players were ordered to enter the clan teleporter. Each castle had one; it was an additional advantage bestowed by the community — free access to the portal network that connected all of the major NPC Kingdoms of Dorsa. One after another, the groups disappeared in an iridescent glow.

  Evil Mook: Destination: Golden Fairs. After you get there, go right through the square to the western gate, then upstairs. Stop at the bastions, don’t go further, and don’t fly beyond the perimeter on birdies. Wait for my command. There are only allies in the city. For geniuses here, I repeat — don’t attack neutrals in the city, even if they’re red. Damage only primary targets via assist.

  In the Fairs, the famous southern capital and the main trading hub of Dorsa, the sun was already high. I had visited this place many times, a Classical-style city built from white marble that rested on the coast of the continent-dissecting Long Sea, but it was never that lively.

  The local teleporter was surrounded by two rings of hoplites bristling with spears, their rectangular shields interlocked. Groups of four NPC guards marched down the street past them, and hundreds of players poured through the gaps between them. Myriads of flying mounts cut through the sky, filling the air with the flutter of wings. An entire fleet of astral ships under white sails hovered above the city, their keels almost touching the highest towers. Frigates, corvettes, barques, schooners...I was surprised to see several heavy galleons that had removed their gun covers. Going by their phoenix-emblazoned red banners, most of the vessels belonged to the Phoenix alliance. There were a lot of them; at first glance, that fleet was as big as the one brought by NAVY to Pandorum’s astral fortress. That was a real armada. Compared to them, ours was laughable — the entire alliance couldn’t assemble even a score of warships. Groups of mounted birdies circled the ships, not letting anyone approach.

  The ring of hoplites came apart in several places, identifying us and letting us pass. The NPC guards of the Fairs’ ruling faction were completely different from the warriors of the Eyre Nation. They were clearly based on the Classical period: Ancient Greek fighters who came to life with their crimson capes, bronze and gold anatomical cuirasses mimicking muscular physique, crested helmets, short spears, and xiphos swords. There were others among the defenders rushing to the walls: slingers and javelin throwers with light shields made of cane; young flute players; columns of phalangists carrying monstrous spears on their backs. The Fairians were a large and powerful faction that controlled dozens of provinces. Their legions were considered the be the most powerful NPC army of our continent. So who dared to challenge them? Could it be the House of Darkness?

  The merlons of the three wide bastions were as tall as a human. Inside, among the walls full of slanted shooting slits, there was enough place for all of us. Below, on the ramparts, Fairian warriors were busy setting fires under kettles of tar, carrying stones for the trebuchets, and moving stationary catapults. We had an amazing view of the surroundings. To the right, we could see the blue waters of the Long Sea and the white sails of the ships leaving the harbor. Some of the flying ships under the banners of various clans were rapidly departing. Before my eyes, an Astral Portal appeared in the sky, and two cargo naves entered it one after another.

  “Rats deserting a ship!” I heard someone sneering. I shook my head, unconvinced. The Golden Fairs were a starting location with lots of newbies, civilians, crafters, farmers, and merchants. With a war going on, the province transformed from peaceful into the arena of faction PVP, and those unwilling to participate were trying to play it safe and get away from the warzone. That was pretty understandable. I could imagine what a powerful enemy could do by occupying the faction capital. Getting your hands on the Crown and the Key allowed you to reshape the laws and make a previously safe city into a hive of scum and villainy, and an especially cynical group might even start slaughtering the NPCs, destroying their “home” resp point. Tao had given us a good lesson by taking Dan-na-Eyre. Back then, we got lucky, thanks to the rollback. But what would happen here?

  The green hills facing the city were covered by a crawling blanket of enemy regiments. Just as I had suspected, those were the Irchi from the House of Darkness; their two-pronged banner couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. Lined up on the hilltops, they were in no hurry to attack, and swarms of screaming birdies roamed the skies above their heads. I had seen those creatures before — draxes, the flying cavalry of the House, resembled a cross between a dragon and a pterodactyl and were often ridden by goblins. Their V-shaped formations moved back and forth, approaching the city and swiftly going back. Were they baiting careless players?

  Evil Mook: Raid rebuff. We’re waiting, guys. Prepare yourselves.

  I watched several birdies break away from our raid and fly toward one of the Phoenix ships, a huge galleon with crimson sails decorated with golden firebirds. Our leaders wanted to talk to their allies, who were in charge of all stages of today’s show. That seemed interesting. I opened the interface of my Proxy archetype and activated the Shadow Eyes ability, probing the surroundings for a shadow spy. The Phoenix ship was bound to have some. I wanted to be aware of our plans.

  * * *

  Naturally, the high-sided galleon deck hosted a slew of lesser shadows invisible to the naked eye. Through them, I saw several birdies land on the ship and recognized Komtur, Olaf, and Don as they came up the bridge. However, after that, it was a disappointment — they disappeared in a blinding glow, looking at which seemed to horrify my underling. Someone had put up a Circle of Light or a similar spell to shield themselves from guests from the Shadow Plane. Good thinking! Still, I persisted and managed to partially achieve my goal, finding a small shadow under the stairs, close enough to the meeting. I couldn’t see anything through its eyes, but listening was a different story.

  “...players.”

  “How many?” Komtur asked, surprised.

  “Six hundred players. PROJECT HELL, Heresy, and Legion. There will be no reinforcements; jammers are everywhere. The Astral Plane’s the only possibility. Around fifteen thousand NPCs, but without her, they can be ignored. Ananizarte’s alone, no retinue.”

  “It’s a trap, an ambush. One hundred percent.” That was another familiar voice, most likely Mook.

  “Of course, we had the same idea. Otherwise, it’s suicide.”

  “Are you monitoring the Pandas?” It was Mook again. “Are juggernaut captains online?”

  “Yes. They’re in Atrocity on full combat alert. Four juggernauts, more than fifty smaller vessels, three thousand players. They probably expect to get a d
rop on us when we’re engaged in battle.”

  “...propose?”

  “...in login trap, plus Hird and the Americans will back us up with their fleets from the Astral. They ambush us, we ambush them.”

  “...on two fronts?”

  “...early to rise up against the Pandas?”

  “...three times their numbers in any case! High time. They have only four juggernauts.”

  After that, the conversation became impossible to understand, as I couldn’t hear those standing away from the stairs. They seemed to argue excitedly. Suddenly, I heard Olaf’s voice — I had already forgotten he was a part of our delegation.

  “...you’re forgetting about the factor of Ananizarte. She’s an unknown variable in our problem. You assume that we can defeat her. Remember — even the Pandas couldn’t. She destroyed their astral castle and left home-free. Players destroying a rank eight entity is unprecedented. And — ”

  “...the only chance! She’s alone, with no retinue, and we have the numbers and the turf advantage. We’ll cut her off from the NPCs and try to kill her. If we do it, the war’s over for good.”

  “Especially if you think about the unique loot, the unique achievements, and...”