More Than A Game (Epic LitRPG adventure)

Chapter 5: Clan Volunteer

"Hey, why are we talking here instead of in the fortress?" the woman asked with some nervousness in her voice.

"They have great beer here," the bass answered. "Maybe the best in Fayroll. Also, it's cheaper—those portal scrolls cost money."

"Penny wise and dollar foolish."

"Oh, sure, look at everyone spying on us. Hey, miss, bring us some beer," he barked.

"Why do you have to be so rude, Gorotul?" The question came from the one they called Gerv.

"It's just who I am. Get used to it!"

"That's a shame," the woman sadly added. "Definitely not good."

"And what you did is good?" Gorotul suddenly asked her. "You betrayed our partners, and that's putting it nicely."

"Betrayal at the right time isn't betrayal. It's foresight," noted Gerv.

"Come on. Maybe we shouldn't talk about this here. Let's go to the fortress. People will find out sooner or later, but I'd rather it be later," the woman said cautiously.

"Oh, stop it," Gorotul brush her off carelessly. "Why worry so much? Ah, our beer!"

I heard some gurgling as the owner of the bass slurped his beer into what sounded like a large stomach.

"Okay," said the woman. "What do we have right now?"

"That's a rhetorical question," Gerv answered positively. "We don't have anything right now, though if things play out right, that might change."

"Exactly," noted the woman. "If we don't support the Plains Eagles and the clans they're allied with, or even if we just announce our loyalty to the Hounds of Death, our reputations will take a beating..."

"Basically, they'll call us traitors and rats," clarified the bass, taking a deep breath after downing his beer.

"It's a risk for our reputations," the woman pushed on, "but that's all since they won't go as far as to openly fight us. And really, sticks and stones... On the other hand, however, we earn the friendship of the Hounds of Death, and maybe even a partnership with them."

"And what do we get from that?" the bass chimed in again.

"Oh, come on, Gorotul... Gerv, I can't do this anymore, explain it to him." Light, feminine steps came toward me, and the bench I was laying under creaked.

"Look, my dear barbarian," came the soft voice of the one she called Gerv. "The Hounds of Death are a powerful clan. An influential clan. A clan with a long memory. And they always remember who their friends and their enemies are. We can't do anything to hurt them since they could crush us without breaking a sweat. But we could help them... Leaving would significantly weaken the clan alliance the Hounds are focusing on more and more. It would be a moral and literal blow to the alliance, and things like that aren't easily forgotten."

"Well, okay. And just like that, we'd look like rats—and we wouldn't even get anything out of it."

"We'd get something out of it," Gerv quietly chuckled. "Our reputation would suffer, but our horizons would brighten. Sure, we would violate our agreement. Yes, we would pull a bit of a dirty trick. Okay, so we would have to grovel a bit... What's that face for?"

"Grovel? Why?!" roared Gorotul.

"Do you want to get to Rivenholm? New lands, new quests, get the clans over there to bend over for us?" the woman chimed in.

"Of course," answered Gorotul. "Why even ask? Everyone does."

"How many ships does our clan have?"

"Two. And we're building two more."

"Is that enough for a full convoy? Enough to get there, considering the competition will be trying to sink us every step of the way? Kraken and his tentacles? Jolly pirates flying the no less Jolly Roger trying to run a jihad on us landlubbers? Whatever else might happen?"

"Of course not," admitted Gorotul. "Although nobody's ever gotten there, as far as I know."

"Exactly. So what's wrong with asking the Gray Witch to let us join their flotilla? As attendants. If we help them and show that we're loyal, she probably won't mind. And if we can prove ourselves to be a reliable, friendly, and useful clan for the Hounds of Death once we're in the flotilla, they'll help us when we get to Rivenholm. And you can't put a price on that. So, my dear, we will do all the groveling it takes. Happily. And it wouldn't hurt to do something else for them, something unusual..."

The woman started rocking back and forth on the bench, which made me rock in my rug. The beer inside me began complaining about the treatment it was getting.

"I heard," Gerv continued insinuatingly, "that the Gray Witch was interested in someone..."

"Yes? What kind of interest?" Gorotul laughed at his double entendre.

"Not what you're thinking," Gerv answered coldly. "Not personal."

"How do you know?" the woman asked with interest and stopped rocking, which made me feel better.

"I just do," Gerv answered evasively. "How... Well, what does it matter to you, Elina?" It's secret information that isn't meant to leave the clan. They call him Wanderer, and he hasn't reached the last level yet. The Witch is trying to find out everything she can about him, and especially wants to know where he's located in the game."

"Unbelievable!" shouted Gorotul. "You have ears in the Hounds?"

"Dear God!" the other two exclaimed at once, obviously shocked at their companion's stupidity.

"Do you know why she's so interested in Wanderer?" the woman asked.

"All I have are rumors," Gerv answered. "They say Wanderer got the Great Dragon quest."

"Oh, come on, that's nothing," announced the bass. "Just one more of who knows how many who have the Great Dragon quest."

"Sure," agreed Gerv. "But why would the Gray Witch be so interested in him? Just for the hell of it? That I doubt."

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