The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series Roman Prokofiev (top ten books of all time .TXT) 📖

Paths were a tangled web of ever-changing instances linking together almost all of the worlds of Sphere. Entering them via portal magic on Teleportation Scrolls was impossible: you could get there only old-style, by walking. Thing is, the Paths were always in flux: the spots transformed and disappeared, the routes shifted, and new “random encounters” got generated. Your raid might find a burrow leading into ancient tombs, but the next day, it would change into a cave full of flesh-eating plants, and so on. There were a few islands of stability, however: the anchor locations inhabited by strange NPC factions. If I found my way there, I could use a Soul Stone to bind myself to one of those spots. Most raids, if they made it to such a place, set up a permanent base there and tried going as deep as possible, completing super hard quests and exploring new instances. Equipment dropped in Helt Akor was some of the finest in Sphere, comparable to loot from the Astral Plane.

In addition to the mobs, you could always meet other players — and such meetings didn’t always turn out well for both groups. Battles, deaths, and items dropped in the gloomy passages of Helt Akor were the main subjects of many pain-filled messages on the Sphere of Worlds official forums.

All right, then. Finances were no longer a problem. I needed to take a break from stock markets, so I wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention, especially since my head was spinning from all those graphs, statistics, and websites used to appraise and calculate craft cost. Yesterday, trying to milk the hype around the elixir’s components for all it was worth, I had accidentally lost ten thousand gold simply because I was too exhausted and missed a digit in a number. A shame, but it was my own fault. Trading requires a fresh mind, and I was all out of breath.

The recipe of Tincture of Fire, by the way, had been bought for three thousand gold. Soon, the market was flooded with its copies, allowing to brew ten, twenty, a hundred potions, and after that, other elixirs from the Order’s reward line followed its steps. The players needed only a few days to reach the Order and start advancing reputation with the Magister’s faction. Professional reputation farmers really were...something. I was happy I had managed to make a killing in due time — from then on, the ingredient price would only drop, until it finally stabilized, finding its niche.

* * *

 

Eyre. Home, sweet home. I thought about visiting Weldy and getting the remaining Tincture. Plus, the shopkeeper had wanted to talk to me about something.

The store was in place, as was the girl. Weldy was reading a fat manuscript covered with drawings of plants, tracing the lines with her fingers, sometimes blowing off an unruly strand of her blond hair, which looked pretty funny.

“Oh, look who decided to pay us a visit, Frederic,” she said, smiling and patting the black cat lying on the counter. “Isn’t it Sir Cat?”

The girl was glad to see me, but I noticed a smidge of concern on her face. Something was clearly bothering her. Taking her hands into mine, my voice strict, I told her to come clean.

“Oh, Sir Cat... I feel really bad asking you for this, but could you loan me some money?” she said, avoiding my gaze, clearly perturbed. “Say...one hundred and fifty gold? I know it’s a large sum, but I need to pay the tax for keeping the store...”

After I got Weldy talking, I learned that the magic shop was on the brink of collapse. It used to be owned by the late court mage, the girl’s uncle. Until his death, he had provided the shop with scrolls and potions crafted by him, some of them in demand. Currently, Weldy had sold out all remaining stock, and the shelves were empty. Her customers left in droves, and all attempts to find new suppliers failed.

Apparently, the entire inheritance of her mage uncle had burned in the tower together with him. Weldy had received only the shop, the goods, and bills for the alchemical ingredients, spending all her earnings to pay off the debts. She had no idea what to do.

“I can brew simple elixirs, non-magical ones,” she said quietly. “But who needs them, anyway...”

That was true. NPC shops weren’t especially popular with the players, as most of their stock could be bought directly at the auction. As often as not, one could find some curious items here and there, but the majority of NPCs’ clientele were NPCs themselves. It’s not like they could use the auction, after all!

“I get it. I’ll lend you some money, of course. Can I help you in any other way?”

A quest, finally! Conversations, dates, and gifts were no longer enough to increase my reputation with her; I needed a mission, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity!

“Really?” I saw hope blossoming in her green eyes. “You could help me?”

You are offered a quest: Business Plan for Weldy.

 

Prevent Weldy Nialit’s magic shop from going bankrupt. Help find customers and suppliers. Make the store profitable.

 

Reward: XP, reputation, (varies).

 

Completion time: 7 days

 

“Of course I can!” And I accepted the quest. It seemed to be just in line with my skills, great.

The whole endeavor was easy as pie, considering my background: all I had to do was to connect the customer with the seller. I decided not to put it off.

First, I needed a contractor, a master herbalist with their own lab, able to supply the product in large quantities. There were five of them in Eyre, but in the end, I settled on an old and annoying herb-wife from Davna, referred to me by her son-in-law, who owned a glassblowing shop. Turned out, they had a family business, starting with herb gathering and