HC: Pacifist | Ch. 172 - Dogs of War (Patreon)

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Loki looked at his character sheet and smiled. He was almost level 79. At this rate, he would be the first player in the game to reach 3rd class advancement. Last he heard, Jaw-Long hadn’t even reached level sixty. Loki was an unparalleled giant among men.

His joy was only soured by the movements of the enemy guilds. Losing Hilsford was regrettable. It was a blade close to his heart. He had expected the guilds to eventually unite, but he wasn’t counting on them doing it so quickly. The Krakens had that ColdHand fellow, and the Ogres had BlueFire. He suspected those two had seen through his movements.

These were two men that he would gladly pay mountains of gold to poach. Unfortunately, they were out of his reach. Despite their brilliant moves, there was no immediate threat. He would just have to keep building his strength and brace himself for the invasion that was coming.

He felt his legs hurt, and his thoughts turned to the Slayer. He checked his messages to see if Zin had made his move and finished him. Nothing. Should he insist? He typed a message simply asking, “Is it done?”

A few seconds later, Zin responded, “Can’t leave IRL. I suspect the Drakes are planning to ambush you in the Dark Abyss. Will follow up on the lead and complete the IRL mission tomorrow.”

Loki stood up. He had purposefully kept his distance from the sleeping beast that was Jaw-Long. Although individually Loki was now stronger than him, he couldn’t deal with the Dragons. That’s why he had only targeted areas far from their scope of influence. If Zin had stumbled upon intel that suggested they were about to attack, it was important to act promptly.

“Follow the lead. Report to me as soon as there is news.”

Loki then sent a message to Yillian and asked him to activate a code red in their defenses. Although he knew this event would eventually end, he still wasn’t done making full use of it. He checked the time and thought of the Slayer. He had waited many months for his end, he could wait one more day.

*

SergeantSarg looked out the cracked window of the apartment they had rented. Outside, winter was pummeling the earth with its cold, heavy rains and frigid winds, enveloping the night into the shroud of dark uncertainty.

He spared a look at the crew of old-timers sitting in the living room. He nodded approvingly at how clean and tidy their boots and gear were and that they all sat with their backs to a wall facing either a door or a window, alert and prepared in case someone strolled in uninvited.

The sergeant squeezed the stun gun in his hand. Even though he had a quantum dematerializer at home, he had decided to keep the specs of this op non-lethal. Hopefully, this was enough firepower to break that kid out. He would make sure that was so. There was no way he’d let this Loki fellow do what they had done to ol’ Stuart. He wasn’t going to leave this boy behind.

His taut nerves turned toward the short man with a bald head who had approached him and joined him in looking out the window. Sarg had been spending so much time in the game that he was always startled whenever he saw Charlie’s bald head. The doctor had ensured his avatar had hair rivaling Rapunzel’s.

“It looks like we left the war, but it didn’t leave us,” Charlie quoted.

The words rang true. “You’re right. People say they can’t teach old dogs new tricks. They leave out how you can’t make old dogs forget old tricks.”

“And we are dogs of war,” completed the doctor.

“Bloodhounds.”

Both smiled. “Let’s hope there’s no blood tonight, though.”

The sergeant nodded.

“Any news from Roth, Sarg?” asked Charlie.

“Nothing so far.”

“How long are we going to wait?”

“Two more hours. If by 03:00 we hear nothing, we’re storming that place.”

Charlie rested his hand on the Sergeant’s shoulder for a moment and then returned to his position facing the window.

The sergeant clicked his tongue. The trickiest thing about being a good commanding officer was never losing one’s cool, never admitting how scared or reluctant one was. But that was hard when a squad knew you for decades. Charlie’s little pep talk to distract him was no accident. The troopers felt his apprehension.

How could he not be apprehensive? They had no backup and were away from their turf. Worst of all, he cared about the kid- they all did. And this cursed weather was just like the night when Stuart passed.

He strolled toward H and tapped on his shoulder. The man had spent so many years looking at screens and reports that he could hardly see anymore. His glasses were so thick that the guys often joked they could stop a bullet. That didn’t mean he had slowed down, though. He could do stuff that went right over the sergeant's head by relying on his sense of hearing and the computer's dictation software. He put the headphones down so that he could hear the sergeant.

“Hey, H. How is the perimeter?”

“The apartment in front of where they’re holding the target and the one below and above are all compromised. I’ve already deployed bugs to deactivate the building's sensors and cameras.”

“What kind of gear do they have?”

“I found no quantum fluctuations. They probably have soundswords and stun guns.”

“Keep me posted.”

The sergeant returned to the window, looking at the front of the building where the kid was being held. He couldn’t put his finger on the reason for it, but something felt wrong. He had a bad feeling about tonight.

*

“His mother?!” exclaimed Ogre.

Even as they spoke, Ogre and Taran were wreaking havoc in the fishing village.

“That’s right, sir.”

“This kid’s name keeps popping up recently. He’s an interesting character.”

“Do you want us to take him in?”

“Into the guild. Sure! Send him an invite.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. He wants protection in real life.”

“Are you talking about making him a guild elder or a core player? We can’t. We’re tapped out. We have no free places right now.”

BlueFire let out an exasperated sigh. He knew full well about this issue. He had warned his guild leader about it months prior. “He doesn’t want guild shares or a guild elder salary. He just wants a condo and a security detail.”

“That we could arrange, right?”

“Right. But we’re talking about nothing less than a three hundred thousand credit investment a month. Not to talk of the costs of hiring mercs to go save him.”

“That’s too much.”

“Hence my question.”

“The kid is only level 30, right? He isn’t worth such a big investment. We’ll be making a loss. Not to speak of Pegasus. Loki is a pain in the neck. That team of assassins of his is the stuff of nightmares.”

“I’ve heard the rumors.”

“It’s because of thugs like him that we need to spend so much of our money on security. I would rather not get into a life-or-death feud with the man.”

“So what do we do?”

“Try to get Galatheel in that union thing, at least. He doesn’t stop sending me messages and even threatens to leave the guild if I don’t get him a premium spot. Also, find out how the kid gives free stats and about the new region.”

“And how much are we willing to pay for this?”

Ogre kept swinging his sword as if he were a harvester sickling wheat. “There’s too much we don’t know. You go. You decide, Blue. I trust your judgment.”

“Very well, sir.” BlueFire sighed and stood up from the table where he’d been playing Terramon. It was a quick walk from here to the auction house. It was time to go meet Roth Tailor.

*

Roth stood at the door to the auction room and looked at the clock. The auction was scheduled for 23.00. There were 20 minutes left. They had thrown forth as many bones as they could. Hopefully, those would be enough to convince one of the guilds to stick their necks out for him and his friends.

He wasn’t sure how much of a difference it would make for him to appear in person. He had already removed his [Witness Protection Mask] and was keeping busy dismissing messages from guilds asking for information on the free stats and reining himself in so he wouldn’t start pacing or showing impatience.

Auctions could be automatic and made impersonal through the system. They were going for the absolute opposite of that. Even though Roth was disclosing his identity, the truth was that if he didn't, he was hopeless.

Off around the corner came the first person to arrive. It was a girl. Now that he saw Mel in person, his first impression was how short she was. She had a graceful walk and had her golden brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She walked with poise and confidence, and there was a golden hawk on her shoulders.

“So we finally meet in person!” she said confidently, walking toward him with a beaming smile.

“S-so we do,” Roth mumbled. As soon as he did, Roth frowned at how pathetic he sounded. What was up with him? Then it hit him. It had been a long time since he had spoken to a girl his age. No wonder that he was a little bit lacking in confidence.

The girl seemed to enjoy seeing Roth making a fool of himself.

“And I suppose this is your little sparrow.”

Mel’s smile faded. “Hawk. H-a-w-k!”

Roth stretched out his big hand toward the hawk. The bird reminded him of the chick he had cared for in prison.

“Wait! Don’t! Be care…”

The golden hawk flew off Mel’s shoulders and landed on Roth’s arm. Roth scratched the bird’s head, and it seemed to like him. As soon as he drew his hand away, it gently reached for the hand again with the beak, asking for more.

“Oh, you like it? Your little sparrow is such an affectionate guy!”

“How did you do that? This is the first time Goldie let anyone but me touch him!” she exclaimed.

“Because he’s just a tiny little sparrow. Aren’t you, baby?”

The hawk issued a series of pitched whistles and piped notes. Roth frowned. He recognized one of the sounds. The ravens also used it when speaking. He ran his fingers through his beard and spared a look at Mel, who had an open mouth and widened eyes as her hawk behaved like a puppy for Roth.

If the logic was the same with wolves and foxes, maybe the hawk spoke some Corvish. Was it OK if he showed this to her? He shrugged. He was very likely going to die soon anyway. It would be wrong not to use this opportunity to impress such a pretty girl.

Turning to the golden hawk, he asked, “Squawk. Caw. Caw?” which in Corvish meant, “Do you speak Corvish!”

Hearing Roth address him in Corvish, the hawk beat his wings excitedly. “Kaw, Kaw, Skuak,” which translated as “I learned at Falconry School.”

Goldie’s accent was slightly edgy, but Roth could still understand him clearly. He sneaked a peek at Mel. The girl’s jaw was touching the floor. Roth chuckled and turned to Goldie.

“My name is Pax. What’s yours?”

“Goldie.”

“I love the golden sheen of your feathers, Goldie. You are such a cool hawk!”

+4 reputation with the golden hawks.

“Are you frriends with the corrvids?” The golden hawk stressed some sounds in Corvish a little but spoke the language perfectly otherwise.

“That I am.”

“Who among the crows do you know?”

“I’m friends with Count Crow.” Roth twisted his mouth. “Even though he can be a little annoying at times.”

“He surrre can. He cheats at Terramon all the time.”

“You play the card game?” Roth didn’t know that NPCs also played it.

“A few of us do, every week.”

Roth looked at Mel. Her expression had gone from surprise to annoyance. She wasn’t enjoying seeing her hawk partner getting so chummy with Roth.

He ignored her and kept chatting with the hawk. “By the way, Goldie, Have you heard of the crow emperor?”

Ch. 171 - You Owe Us Dinner

INDEX

Ch. 173 - The Five Bidders