Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Alex Oakchest (list of ebook readers .TXT) 📖

I felt something then. A slight pang of guilt. Only for a second, like a wasp’s sting. A slight nip, and then it was gone. Even so, for a millisecond, I almost promised to give Reginal what he needed for Devry with no conditions, but then something held me back.

“You crafty old goblin git,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“You hate all this wordplay? You have no time for games of power, for manipulation? You must think I was forged yesterday! You’re trying to play me like Brecht’s tambourine. Did you really think that you could guilt a core into getting what you want, for free? You just played all of your cards, Reginal. I’m onto you now, you revealed yourself. I know that you’re a damn sight craftier than you look.”

Reginal stood up. “A leader must try everything. Galatee taught me that.”

“Then all of this was a lie? I know I should be offended, but I’m rather impressed.”

“All of it? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’m still a goblin, Beno. I’m not made of stone. I’ll watch out for this big No-Core scandal, and I will act on it. As for you having a say in town matters…I will have to speak to Galatee. We work together; we do not make decisions in isolation. Just make sure that you get Cynthia what she needs for Devry’s orbs.”

CHAPTER 13

I floated through Yondersun with Gulliver strolling beside me. His shirt was crumpled and dirty, his sleeves rolled up. The skin around his eyes was baggy enough to hide coins inside, and his usual swagger was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a tired stomping.

“You don’t seem yourself,” I said.

“Late nights used to be so easy when I was an apprentice. I could study all day, enjoy pleasurable pursuits all night, and then I’d only need a single wink, never mind forty, before I was ready to do it again. Now, an hour’s less sleep makes me feel like a dug-up corpse.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice. Did you get it done?”

“Would you expect anything less? I have written enough propaganda to put a despot to shame.”

“How long until we get it printed? You have contacts, yes?”

“It’s already done, Beno. I didn’t waste every single coin from the profits of our last book. I bought myself a portable printing device from an artificer. It runs on a cog work system powered by crystallized mana, of which I also bought a small supply. All I need do is feed it paper and my beautiful words. It is all done. See for yourself.”

We were in the center of Yondersun now, traversing a street named Jahn’s Row in honor of my core friend who had built the first Yondersun buildings in this very spot. Not long ago there had been nothing but a wasteland. Then there were a dozen wooden lodges, six on each side. Now, there had to be thirty lodges on both sides of the street. Signs advertised barber services, ornamental clocks, baked goods. Yondersun residents and strangers alike wandered from shop to shop, some hunting for supplies they needed while others ambling by without purpose, lured in by the declaration of sales and low prices made by the merchants outside.

While this was always the busiest part of town, I began to realize that the activity today was unusual. Groups of humans, orcs, goblins, and gnomes were standing around, some with their gazes fixed to pieces of paper, others chatting excitedly.

“Word spreads fast,” I said.

“Rumors spread fast, Beno. Not just words. They spread all the faster when someone is actively spreading them, and when that someone is a master scribe.”

I listened to the chatter around me to get a sense of the glorious lies Gulliver had spread.

“I knew we couldn’t trust them No-Cores! Peaceful protest? My arse.”

“To think, I almost joined their last picket. No, not because I don’t like the cores. I just wanted to be part of something. Well…dodged an arrow there, didn’t I?”

“Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Mark me, I always sensed they were up to no good.”

Swarms of chatter buzzed in the air, while more and more people joined the various groups and partook in gossip. Meanwhile, four little goblin boys and girls ran around handing pieces of paper to anyone with empty hands.

“Slipped them a bronze coin each to make sure everyone got a copy,” said Gulliver, proudly. “They’ve done a good job.”

“What lies did you spread?”

“What we agreed on, of course.”

“And the mimic?”

“It’s all taken care of, Beno! Why do you think I’m so tired? Writing a few authentic-sounding lies doesn’t take a master scribe too long, and I had the goblin kids work my printing press. The reason I’m severely lacking in my beauty sleep is that your damn mimic and I have been skulking around town for the last two nights, making sure that we were seen.”

This was all so glorious. It was one thing plotting this whole thing with Gulliver, and another watching it unfold like a well-oiled deckchair.

I could picture it now. The mimic, taking Boothe Stramper’s form, hanging around the eastern part of town in the middle of the night. All-so-conspicuously loitering around the memorial that Jahn was making, that project of Galatee’s that she was so proud of. It was supposed to mark the lives lost in the wars preceding Yondersun’s formation, but I had a better use for it.

All it needed was for Boothe to be seen hanging around there suspiciously. Couple that with Gulliver’s lies…

“Beno, look!” said Gulliver, pointing.

At the far end of Jahn’s Row, a group approached us. There were Galatee and her guards, comprised of four gnomes and three orcs, none of them wearing armor given the ridiculously warm sun, but all of them armed.

“Chief, did you read this?” asked one middle-aged gnome lady,