Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series, Dan Sugralinov [the reader ebook .TXT] 📗

“Shame, I wanted to keep all that money for myself,” Pecheneg said, making as if upset. “I hoped Scyth and I could sweep away the Alliance and go conquer new continents…”

“Continents?” Hinterleaf snorted. “You think too small, Otto! What about the other planes? The Astral, the Inferno, the Nether, the divine plane! Without Scyth, we’re more likely to end up worm food than reach any of the above!”

“I get that,” Pecheneg waved a hand. “But I hope you won’t forget about Taipan when you conquer Meaz, heh-heh…” The character looked young, but his laughter sounded more like an old wheeze.

“Who could forget you, Otto?! Hah-hah-hah…”

I waited for the old men to finish laughing — apparently, the situation had reminded them of something in common from their past, — then asked:

“Why did Mogwai go after you? He knows where to find me, he could have…”

“He’s out of the loop,” Pecheneg noted, glancing at the gnome.

“Indeed,” the little man said. “Scyth, Mogwai is on the brink of bankruptcy. Few know this, but Fen has been a Triad man from the start. He gave half of everything he earned to them, then frittered away the rest like every day was his last.”

“The kid has no idea how to manage his finances,” Pecheneg grumbled.

Hinterleaf objected:

“That’s true, but not the whole story. Fen used to have enough income for everything. However, now that he’s on the side of the Destroying Plague, Mogwai, once a much-lauded customer of the Commonwealt banks, has lost access to all his accounts in one swoop.”

“What about the goblins? They don’t care what race their customers are.”

“The goblins are indiscriminate, so they have the highest fees,” Hinterleaf answered. “Mogwai kept his savings in the Darant Royal Bank. He kept something with the goblins, but the League High Council declared the undead an enemy faction today.”

“Yeah, funny how it turned out,” Pecheneg commented.

“The Elites still have living members, but the trouble is that this affects Mogwai’s personal funds, not the clan treasury. It isn’t clear yet how Snowstorm plans to solve that problem, but they’ve trotted out their ‘it’s all within the limits of gameplay’ line. Mogwai got infected and turned undead, which has hatred with all factions.

“That’s robbery!” I cried, putting myself in the former legate’s shoes.

“No, Snowstorm will no doubt think of something. Maybe an undead city will come along, with its own banks… I don’t know. That doesn’t bother me,” Hinterleaf muttered. “What matters is this. Mogwai, once he realized how deep a hole he’d fallen into, gave all the top clans an ultimatum: pay or die. And he wanted regular payments, tens of millions in tribute, in exchange for which the Destroying Plague would leave property untouched. So much for the clans! Similar threats went to King Bastian the First and Emperor Kragosh. I don’t know about the smaller clans, but all the Alliance leaders refused Mogwai, of course. Now Fen’s only hope is to capture the castles of the Alliance and anyone else he runs into. Losses are inevitable, but we’re better off fighting than becoming a laughing stock of the world.”

I chewed this over for a moment.

“Now I see why you need me,” I said. “This whole tale of future achievements, new lands… I can’t promise I’ll help you. I also can’t guarantee any benefits from the Sleepers in this partnership — I can’t bring in new adepts right now. By destroying the temple in the desert, you took that option away yourselves. How’s it going with Nergal, did he reward you well?”

“Ah…” Hinterleaf waved a hand. “A few divine artifacts, reputation that was already maxed out, a few perks in the form of permanent buffs. Nothing that would work against Mogwai. Even our defense against Plague Fury is gone, let alone heat resistance. As for the temples of the Sleepers — we can help. We now have a vital stake in this.”

“I see. Well, I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t have much time. Let’s wind this down. I agree to an alliance in the war against the Destroying Plague. Once we make it official with an Arbiter, I’ll share my thoughts on how to deal with the legates.”

“We have things to share as well,” the gnome answered. “Shall we begin?”

After waiting for my nod, he spoke in ceremonial tones:

“I, Hinterleaf, summon an Arbiter to confirm this agreement.”

The space above the forest distorted, flashing with purple sparks, then the Eye appeared, several times larger than an ordinary one. Staring at us all at the same time, it spoke monotonously:

“The Celestial Arbitration foresees an agreement between key sentients of Disgardium. The consequences will reflect on the balance of the world. A single Arbiter cannot take on this responsibility. Therefore this exchange will be registered by the Celestial Arbitration in full.”

Then the Eye rose higher, and from the place where it emerged, others began to appear one by one. Even Hinterleaf and Pecheneg, who had seen so much in Dis, dropped their jaws at the sight. The twelve Arbiters arranged themselves in a semi-circle, and their leader asked dispassionately:

“Subject of the agreement?”

The delegation that had come to witness the contract consisted of twelve Arbiters. And the rank ‘Arbiter’ was just a status, like Grokuszuid’s ‘Auctioneer’ or Bastian the First’s ‘King.’

Eye, Arbiter

Celestial Arbitration.

No level, no health indicator. An incorporeal being that probably couldn’t even kill a rabbit. All the same, respect for the impartial judges was universal across the game universe.

Each of the Arbiters who appeared was called an Eye, all identical in appearance and system text save the chief Arbiter, larger than the rest. Each Eye could be in many different places at once, mediating arguments, making deals and contracts, meting out punishments and sentences. If Nega was right in what she’d said of the role of the Arbitration,