Watching Cynthia limp away with an egg of a wyvern procured from the guild vault and a thick document detailing the rituals needed to upgrade the monster into something that could be on par with dragons caused Sam to smile.
In his inherited memories, the other Sam always stared with jealousy and quiet wonder as the dragon knights, an elite force of one of the prominent taming guilds, flew by, demonstrating the unparalleled power of dragons.
However, that power was in his hands. And he deftly used the same hands to sow the seeds of chaos into a fertile soil. Cynthia would be his instrument in creating the dragon knights and thus usurping one more thing that made someone else famous.
Did he feel bad about that? Stealing glory from somebody in the future?
A bit.
But he also knew that the person who founded the group was an unrepentant asshole who lorded over his superiority over anyone he met and made sure to abuse and use everybody he thought was lesser than him. Which, according to an interview that he tried to really scrub from the internet (with no success, naturally), was everybody.
Honestly, Sam didn’t even remember the man’s name. Like everybody else, he called him DA. The dragon’s asshole.
The only reason he was tolerated was that he kept the secret of dragon taming and raising close to the vest, thus making him indispensable.
Watching Clarissa’s hilarious little sister walking away, Sam knew that the secret – not that she knew it was a secret – was in good hands.
Granted, it probably wasn’t the same thing DA used. His solution was based on runes, rituals, and a few esoteric components of magic to facilitate the change both in body and mind in the wyverns or other similar monsters.
‘I wonder when she will realize what I gave her…’ he chuckled to himself before cleaning himself up and heading back toward their headquarters.
There were preparations to make.
He spent almost a week in-game time just running around the headquarters, arranging things, organizing groups, and talking with Lucy, Tim, and Adam. They talked about the current situation, defenses, logistics of the newly born town, the political situation, and so much more.
With Lucy, they discussed the political reality of the current administration, both in-game and out of the game. They talked about the under-the-table deals she had made with the Emerald Kingdom that didn’t want to be seen to be interfering with conflicts between independent groups, yet knowing exactly what would happen if the Blood Army won.
Thanks to the king’s daughter being assigned to ‘observe’ them, Lucy had access to confidential records, scouting reports, and so much more. However, both of them knew that nothing was free and knew that the kingdom expected to be paid back, with interest, once the current conflict died down.
‘A problem for future us…’
With Adam, they talked about the guild, their PR, and how the recruiting process was. They discussed how to handle so many players in a war-like scenario and how to motivate them to follow orders. How to defend against saboteurs, agents of chaos who just wanted to see the world burn, and how to make sure all the idiots didn’t set their own pants on fire.
Honestly, the solution was rather simple.
Money.
The guild contribution system, with exchange points and all that was entailed in that, was thrumming along, greatly enjoyed by all the guild members. Hell, Adam even showed them several forum posts where guild members were comparing guild benefits. Their guild always managed to come up in the top brackets thanks to their impressive vault, made possible by their insane gold income.
‘Thank you, high rollers in Heavenly Forest!’
Using the same tactic, they came up with a catalogue of actions and how much they would be worth. Naturally, it would go through some refining with the help of others, but Sam wanted to at least pretend that he knew what he was doing. At least Adam pretended that he appreciated his help.
Though he made sure to add a few things that would liven things up. A reward for the highest recorded kill count, the highest recorded destruction of enemy siege equipment, and finally, one for the largest amount of enemy supplies stolen.
“Make sure to leak those three to the members…” he told Adam, who was blinking owlishly at him.
“Really?”
“We don’t know exactly when the enemy is going to attack, so we need to start the propaganda now. Who knows? Maybe we’ll inspire somebody to go behind enemy lines to steal and destroy something…”
“Sam, not everybody is as crazy as you.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Oh ye of little faith!” Sam countered with a grin. “Also, make sure to set those contributions up, but have them hidden. Toggle the visibility when the fight starts.”
“Sometimes…I really hate how your mind works.”
“Look on the bright side!”
“What bright side?” Adam asked deadpan.
Sam shrugged. “Dunno. I thought you would have thought of something!”
“Haaaa…”
With Tim, they talked about two major issues.
The first one was, naturally, the security of their new ‘empire’. Tim and his chosen team, all weabos, playing assassins and spies, kept the streets clean, enemy infiltration to a minimum, and managed all the other guilds that set up shop in their neck of the woods.
Hearing Tim tell Sam about all the shit he got up to, Sam had only one thought.
‘That totally could be an anime. Hmm… I started playing a VRMMO game and got a shadow empire and a harem!’ He nodded to himself. ‘Yeah…That could work!’
“What are you thinking about?” Tim asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed and staring straight at Sam. “Is this about the wyvern egg?”
Sam just chuckled and waved his hand. “That’s for later. For now, let’s focus on the enemy.”
Tim slowly nodded. “As you say. Any recommendations, or should I do what I usually do?”
Sam scratched his chin, oddly wishing he had a beard as he thought. Finally, after a minute’s thought, he spoke up. “You identified most of the spies, right?”
“I’m at ninety percent with that. The rest are too elusive or are using magic I’m not familiar with.”
“That’s enough,” Sam told him, then leaned forward and began to whisper in a conspiratory manner. “Listen, here is what we’re going to do. You know what we’re cooking down there, so you know what kind of defenses we have.” He waited for Tim’s nod before continuing. “Then I want you to invent and leak a new defensive system. Completely imaginary, of course! Look at what other people are using. Copy that, but add – I don’t know – ten percent to all the numbers, and maybe sprinkle some super awesome sounding artifacts here and there.”
Tim blinked as he processed the request. “So, in summary, you want them to think that we have the same kind of defenses others use, but better?”
“Better if you manage to find out what kind of defenses the Blood Army uses and add that to the list.”
“Man, boss, I would hate to be your enemy…”
The other thing was the newsgroups.
In the other life, those kinds of reporting were rather common; they were ‘invented’ much later in the game’s life, though that was also because of a giant battle between two feuding guilds. Too many famous people were fighting for the newsies to miss out on reporting the freshest news.
Last time the game company came up with a unique mercenary method of allowing the ‘journalists’ to spectate the body, without breaking the immersion and just adding in a spectator mode. They ‘reaveled’ a secret information broker guild who had immensely talented mages who were shit at fighting but geniuses at staying hidden and safe. Their clients were secret, but the players could hire them for protection during a battle.
Naturally, not everybody would have the means to do that; those who could group together and pay like that, or simply go to the battlefield alone and hope that a stray meteor didn’t squash them.
“Talk to Liz. Have her reach out to some of her contacts. I want a team of insanely pretty streamers – both male and female – reporting on the battle the moment it starts.”
“Sure, Liz and I already talked about somehow covering the battle for her stream. I think her main idea was cloaked drones.”
Sam, however, shook his head. “No, we’re going to use those for surveillance, so we can’t use them for reporting. I don’t want to be accused of exploiting the neutrality of the battlefield reporters.”
“Ah, yeah…that would be bad. Right, I’ll talk to her and make sure to get a list to Lucy.”
“Good man.”
Walking through Ferabor was an experience.
The big construction was over, the streets were usable, trees and other foliage dotted everywhere, the gardens modeled after the British victory gardens peeking out from between buildings, the city maintenance staff was going around and making sure there was no trash to reduce the idyllic sights.
Granted, they also functioned as a secret police, looking out for spies and troublemakers.
After all, nobody cares about the service staff…
Sam walked through the streets, observing as people slowly began to populate the town Lara spent so much time and effort building. He watched as smaller guilds moved into their new buildings, standing there proudly, hanging up their guild symbols.
He looked on as craftsmen not associated with their guild opened their shops, their first customers – both players and NPCs – already standing around and curiously watching what they would be selling. It wasn’t just players, but NPCs too, who opened shops, most of them belonging to an important NPC faction or noble house that Lucy made a deal with.
There was even a Heavenly Forest building, surrounded by a dense tree wall and high walls, important-looking people walking in and out, strutting like peacocks in mating season.
As he walked deeper, he took a small break, sitting down on a public bench and watching as almost a hundred people buzzed around a five-story building. They were like industrious ants, almost stone-faced, doing their jobs. They cleaned, they moved boxes, they measured things, they painted, and some of them even hung up signs and logos on the exterior of the building.
Windows were being covered in a special artifact sold by his own company to prevent spying and unwanted attention, while grumpy-looking military guys either stood ramrod straight or loitered around the area, eyeballing everyone as if they suspected the mother of two, walking with her two children, was an internation terrorist or that the old man sweeping the street was a spy.
Well, he was, but they didn’t really know that…
Sam spent a few minutes just watching the hustle and bustle before anyone even looked in his direction. However, the moment one of the guards spotted him, he knew he would soon lose his silence.
And he was right…
Not even a minute later, a very familiar figure came striding out of the building, heading straight at him.
Lara plopped down next to him on the bench and let out a frustrated sigh, the sound akin to a balloon losing air rapidly.
“I fucking hate my family…”
“Cousins bumming you out?” Sam asked idly, handing over a crisp apple.
CRUNCH
Lara bit into it, chewed, and then answered. “Like you wouldn’t believe. The moment they arrived, they kept demanding things. As if they had carte blanche to do anything. Unbelievable!”
“Anything funny?”
Lara let out a long-suffering sigh. “One of my cousins, a daughter of one of my aunts, told one of her assistants to tell the mayor to change the city’s name as she didn’t like it.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh at hearing that. “Poor assistant.”
“If they continue like this, sooner or later I’ll get a Bitch Slap skill…” Lara proclaimed dramatically.
“Pimp slap is more effective.”
“Oh, shut up!”
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