Alpha Zero (Alpha LitRPG Book 1) Arthur Stone (hardest books to read .txt) 📖

And one additional factor, which couldn’t possibly be explained in short form.

The coffer. Now that concept would take the longest to explain. Not the coffer itself, but its contents. The receptacle stored items without which walking this path of self-perfection would be akin to driving a vehicle without engine or wheels.

Or body.

Of the three things brought by Treya, the silk pouch was the simplest. It contained the clan’s treasury. A big word for the pittance it actually contained: several small silver pieces and a handful of copper ones. Alas, the Crow was a long-time resident of the poor house. It was thanks only to the loyalty of the hereditary shudras that we were still on the map at all.

Camai knew all this better than me. He could have whooped with delight and proclaimed, “We’re rich! We’re saved! Let us throw a feast for all of the Borderlands, to which we’ll invite minstrels and flesh peddlers!” Instead, the warrior impassively replied, “This isn’t enough. The treasury cannot fund even a single charging of the amulet. You need spices and symbols... And so does your son. And their amount is likewise too little. Your clan is in for harsh times, Mistress.”

“As if we’ve been living it up lately...” mother replied, biting her lip with a distant expression.

Her mind was now clearly focused on solving one simple question: how would she pull us out of the cramped and malodorous place into which she herself had cast us? Sadly, finances were never Treya’s strong suit, and her lexicon apparently lacked the space for the word “compromise.” Money rarely lasted long in her purse while decisions that pushed us deeper and deeper into the foul and inescapable pit of despair were made with lightning speed and nary a regret.

At least, no remorse was ever made manifest.

The upshot was that we were broke, no opportunities for improving our financial hardships were apparent, and without money, our relatively tolerable existence was destined to come to a swift and certain end.

With yours truly meeting that end first.

I felt the amulet concealed in the folds of my tunic reflexively. It was still there, warming my soul. Though I didn’t need to touch it to know it was working as intended.

I wouldn’t be able to keep even this siting position otherwise.

Treya’s proposed plan to mend our financial woes was, as expected, less than stellar.

“We can gather a squad and dispatch them to the Wild Wood. Even a short campaign should prove profitable. And it could even be presented as a mercy on my behalf. A substitute for execution. What do you think of my idea?”

Almighty forces of this forsaken world, deliver me from this idiocy! How was it that one rather comely head could contain a mind so quick-witted and sophisticatedly cunning, yet hopelessly impractical at the same time? Or is this supposed to be a joke? If so, it’s anything but funny.

It would take a great force of will for Camai to keep his composure in replying. To his credit, he was up to the task.

“Mistress, your subjects have not yet recovered from last year’s campaign. They lost four men then, two of which had been our best hunters. Though it’s a stretch to call common shudras ‘hunters’ to begin with. Forgive me, Mistress, but your subjects are too weak for another campaign. They would be little more than a walking pile of meat for northern predators to smell from afar and ravage with ease. And we wouldn’t be allowed into the safe and rich sections of the Wild Wood—those have long been divvied up among the merchants, and posses from their trading posts regularly patrol the area. Such a campaign would lead only to losses, not gains. Besides, sending men to the other shore means they wouldn’t be around to do the seeding. Which means an even weaker harvest this year. And their families are already starving. I fear that such order would cause your subjects to flee, Mistress.”

“Impossible,” mother scoffed at the suggestion. “They are hereditary shudras. Their families have served the Crow for many generations, with each generation swearing the blood oath to continue their vassal service. Or did you forget that the oath binds them tighter than the strongest ropes?”

“Forgive me, Mistress, but no, I cannot forget such a thing. However, their oath... it is not absolute. Given the right circumstances, your people may yet break it. Their children are starving and their development is stunted, which could justify ending their service to the Crow Clan. If we do nothing, they will start to disperse in the next few months. But ordering a campaign or resorting to other means of punishment will only hasten their dispersement. I beg your forgiveness again, Mistress, but we cannot retain old subjects or recruit new ones. We’re about to...”

Camai broke short in the middle of the sentence, which had never happened to him before. Then again, he wasn’t so much speaking words as hammering nails into a coffin. Bang, bang, bang.

Still, why pause now?

Treya looked every bit as surprised as me, but then her eyes darted toward the light double-doors. I followed her gaze automatically, wondering if the door leaves might have grown claws or fangs.

But no, they seemed just as peaceful as before. Still, neither mother’s nor Camai’s expressions softened. They were clearly seeing something I wasn’t.

And that something was clearly bad.

Her eyes glued to the doors, mother spoke blankly.

“We have unexpected guests, Camai. I need to change. And I’m going to need help as we’re pressed for time.”

“Yes, Mistress. Unexpected indeed. Hold on, I shall help you.”

What?! This yahoo was going to help mother dress herself? Unthinkable! Couldn’t she summon one of her maids?

And what possible guests could there be at this hour...

Chapter 3 Uninvited Guests

Degrees