Nagant Wars: A LitRPG Novel (Nagant Wars Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Wow.”

  “Yes. That’s a common reaction.”

  Cole asked him to follow as he walked along rows of tables and lab stations. There were piles of bones, from tiny mammal bones to giant lizards. Fully formed snake skeletons and hundreds of different bird skeletons were mounted on lab tables or suspended on cables. Dale was awestruck. Dazzled. He looked up as they approached a skeleton that was as big as a bus and looked like a combination of a triceratops and a crocodile.

  “That’s Zollerdon.” Dale’s face broke into a huge grin.

  “Yes. His designer, Alex, donated that skeleton to us last year. In exchange, I’d imagine, for a healthy bonus. He’s retired now, but occasionally he gives a lecture here.”

  “I played that game when I was eight. I don’t think I said more than five words a day to my parents for two weeks when Damage Zone came out that year. It took me several days to defeat a Zollerdon.”

  “Look here,” Cole said. He pointed to a red dot on the thigh bone of the beast. “See that dot?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is the spot that the engineers attached a tendon in the flesh modeling stage. It was the weak spot of the beast in the game. Very hard to hit. Alex had a certain artistic flair in developing and designing these things. I’ve seen birds that he did for mere props in a game with tiny and intricate bones and also massive herbivores with thigh bones several meters long.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “Follow me.”

  They finished touring the lab with an inspection of a display of fish and reptile skeletons that had been suspended into a tank of clear liquid. Small motors and gears moved the systems and Cole dripped red dye into the tanks to show Dale how water movement was tracked for realistic design adaptations. Dale was continually astonished. When he was shown creatures that were soon to be featured in new Rhith Worlds, Cole reminded him of the non-disclosure agreement he’d signed. “I know you’ll want to talk about this stuff, because it’s so amazing, but remember, talking can come back to bite you.”

  ...........................

  Cole took Dale to the administrative offices for his meeting with one of the vice-deans of the technological school. He pointed to a waiting area and told Dale to sit until he was called and that if he wanted a beverage all he had to do was ask.

  “Ask who?”

  “Just ask.”

  “May I have an iced mocha?” Dale said.

  “With whipped cream, sir?” A voice that sounded upbeat and friendly came from somewhere above his head.

  “Sure.” Dale smiled at Cole. “That was easy.”

  “One of perks of being at the best school.”

  Cole entered information into a touch screen on the wall next to a set of security doors and then excused himself.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Dale said as Cole left. A few minutes later a robotic serving module glided silently up to him.

  “Your drink, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would there be anything else, sir?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The robot left, and Dale sipped his drink. He ate all the whip cream off the top and wiped his mouth, embarrassed, even though he was alone. Before he reached the bottom of his cup, the doors near him automatically opened. A new and different voice spoke from somewhere above him.

  “Please proceed to your meeting with Vice-Dean Bold. Go through the door, turn left, and then right.”

  Dale followed the instructions and entered a massive corner office with double high, floor to ceiling windows. The view was not generated, but rather, a view of Cincinnati as it was. Big, dirty, and sprawling. High-speed trains crisscrossed, running through the city in tubes and tunnels. Hov-Jets sped left and right across town at various altitudes while others ascended and descended as if the scene had been a choreographed production for a dystopian science fiction movie. Dale stared in awe. “I’ve never been up this high.”

  “You should see the view at night, young man.”

  Dale looked up at a man with sharp features and short dark hair. His eyes were piercing blue, and as he approached Dale, his eyes lit up, and his mouth quirked into a friendly, business-like smile.

  “I’m sure it’s awesome.”

  “It is. I am Vice-Dean Bold. You must be the promising young designer, Dale Brown. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Dale extended his hand. The Vice-Dean took it briefly before he pointed to a seat in front of a large glass and steel desk.

  “Please sit.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Vice-Dean, please.”

  “Yes, Vice-Dean.” Dale felt warm and his anxiety caused him to shake as he took a seat. This meeting was the most important of his life. To get a scholarship from the Prootingham Technical University would be a life altering opportunity, the kind of thing that techie nerds dreamed of once they had learned to program their first code at six or seven years old.

  The Vice-Dean explained the different program tracks that were available to Dale and the opportunity each of them represented.

  “One problem remains.”

  Dale’s heart raced. He hated problems. He felt his anxiety grow.

  “Sir? I mean, Vice-Dean?”

  “The Nagant War. The government. Your government. My government. There are uncertainties. You are aware of your obligation to test for inclusion into the joint armed forces?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to go to war.”

  “You may not have a choice.”

  “I hate that.”

  “As do all free-thinking peoples. However, if war is upon us, and it seems it may be, perhaps skilled, brave young men, such as yourself, will be all that stands between us and annihilation.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  The Vice-Dean put his hand on his chin. He lowered his eyes to Dale. “I know it’s possible. I don’t know if that’s the case here. Nobody knows, this isn’t public knowledge, son, so keep it to yourself. Nobody knows what’s real and what’s not real anymore when it comes to the Nagant Wars. Some say it’s not really a threat, but a test. Some speculate that it’s a test, and if we fail, we’ll all be slaves. Or perhaps become livestock for an alien race. Nobody knows what reality really is, do they? I mean, even all of this,” he pounded on the desk, “even all of this isn’t really here.”

  Dale swallowed.

  “What does all this mean?” Dale looked up, but he couldn’t hold the stare of the Vice-Dean.

  “It means, son, that I’m offering you a scholarship. A scholarship that will include all your training, living expenses, food, clothing, and a small allowance. In exchange for your training, which will last for a period of three to five years, you will be contractually obligated to work for the company for the following decade. In all reality, because of non-disclosure agreements and company secrets, you’ll be a company employee for life. At least your working life. You’ll make enough money to retire early, if you so choose.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The immediate objects are the total destruction and devastation of their settlements, and the capture of as many prisoners of every age and sex as possible. It will be essential to ruin their crops now in the ground and prevent their planting more.

  ~ Orders from George Washington

  History is always subject to revision.

  ~ King Talargo

  ...........................

  Dale sat with his little brother and his father at the table for dinner.

  “So you had quite the trip?” his father said.

  “Yes, I—”

  “Oh my God!” Dale’s mother yelled.

  “What’s wrong?” Earl Brown stood up and left the table.

  “The news has been put under government control. The Governor’s office passed a censorship law and there’s a riot downtown.”

  Dale listened to his parents yell and shout at the television and he wondered how this would affect his future.

  ..........
.................

  Dale entered a Conversation Pod and chatted with Brian and several other gaming friends.

  “Have you guys seen the preview to Assassins of Boulder Town?” someone asked the group.

  “No,” Dale said.

  “I have, it’s awesome,” Brian said. “Play the preview.”

  One of the group brought up a full-sized Rhith-scope screen, and they all watched the preview to Assassins of Boulder Town.

  A desert came into view. Cactus, turkey vultures, and cattle appeared. Off in the distance, a steam locomotive sped down the tracks pulling a train towards an old western town. The next shot was inside a saloon.

  “A whiskey?” said an old, gray-haired bartender. He spoke in a western accent while he poured a shot of whiskey into a dirty glass.

  The view panned across the saloon. Poker players, ladies of the night, and a man playing the piano all added to the atmosphere of the game. The main double doors flung open and an ugly man wearing a black hat entered the room.

  “I’m here for Charlie,” he growled.

  The preview then jumped through a rapid set of clips: gun battles, buffalos, cattle, more gun battles, and views of canyons, mountains, and vast dark forests with elk, deer, bear, and wolves.

  The final shot was a group of Native America scouts looking over a bluff towards the town while the sun set in the distance. A voice over spoke, “Be afraid of dusk.”

  “That looks like a great game,” Dale said. “I’m more of a fantasy guy myself.”

  “Me too,” Brian said. “But I like the look of the game, except I think you make better wolves.”

  “When’s it coming out?” Someone who Dale knew from school asked.

  “I think in a month,” another voice said.

  “Is anyone else worried about this government thing?”

  “I’m not,” someone said.

  “Me neither,” said someone else.

  “My parents are freaked out.”

  “It’s stupid. The government has controlled the press since the 1980s. Everyone knows that.”

  An argument started, and Dale wished he’d never said anything. He wasn’t worried. But he was worried.

  He had to officially accept the scholarship within the next month. He wasn’t going to worry about the government, or the press, or rumors of war. He had received the offer of a lifetime, and he fully intended to take it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We earth men have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things.

  ~Ray Bradbury

  A man compelled to take up arms for the cause of liberty is a paradox that only a government official can explain with a straight face and a smile.

  ~ Akio, Troth Leader

  ...........................

  Princess Talargo had grown up on Almaach and had trained to become a diplomat under her father’s direction. Possessing the Jewel of Sartozel had put her life in danger, but being royalty came with obligations and duties.

  “Rohini,” her father said. He kissed her on both cheeks. “How are your preparations coming along?”

  “Fine dad. Not bad, in fact. I leave in the morning for the A—”

  “Stop.” Her father held up his hand. “Don’t tell me.”

  “Father, do you really fear being taken hostage?”

  “It’s always possible.” Her father paced. “It’s better to be cautious. Your mother is already not sleeping. War is likely upon us.”

  “Father?”

  “Yes?”

  “I will do my duty.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Long live the King!” Princess Rohini Talargo knelt and kissed her father’s hand.

  ...........................

  The Arodian Mountains are known as the most beautiful on the entire planet. Hundreds of different species of trees grew in forests covering tens of thousands of square kilometers. Snow covered peaks seemed to be never ending. Waterfalls roared to life in the springtime, when the deep snow banks melted, and clouds of mist would rise high into the sky, creating prismatic light shows.

  Princess Rohini Talargo traveled in a small group, all in her company were trusted compatriots. They rode the sturdy ponies bred for hundreds of years out of Yoltian, and they brought a pack of dogs, the semi-wild breed called Waltores. The pack consisted of two brothers and four sister-bitches. Two of the females were scout-trackers, and the other two had been bred for guard duty. The male dogs were fighters, fearless and loyal, who had both slept in the royal princess’s bed with her after being weaned. Later, when they’d grown too large to share her bed, they slept on the floor close enough to hear Rohini breathing.

  Ruthann, her personal steward-advisor, rode alongside the Princess. She had served the royal family her entire life. She was proficient in six languages, skilled with the longbow, and had a passing understanding of magic and spells, although she was not a witch.

  The rest of the party were soldiers. They were all hand-selected young men who were fiercely loyal to the King. The soldiers were ten in number, making the party an even dozen. A fortuitous number, a charmed number, her mother had said the night before. She, too, had refused to allow Rohini to tell her what her destination was.

  The court, the commoners, the trades, and the farmers, even those who were normally optimistic, like monks and preachers, were all nervous about the prospect of war. The Nagant monk who had come as an ambassador had explained the entire situation to The House of Talargo. Most were not willing to believe him. But when he transformed and performed incredible feats of magic, nobody dared to say a word against his declarations.

  War was coming. No government, no kingdom, no country, no planet, and no alliance had the power to do anything about it. The Jewel of Sartozel, which was currently hidden safely away in her pony as loot, was one of the keys to winning the war. That’s what the Nagant monk had explained. The Jewels were the key to victory, and there were seven hundred seventy-seven of them. Hidden throughout the galaxies, even beyond those that had been mapped, there were seven hundred and seventy-six other Jewels. The Jewels, together, represented victory.

  Why? Nobody, at least nobody to her knowledge, knew.

  What the Princess had confidence in was that she couldn’t control the fate of the other Jewels, only the one in her possession. Her task was to hide and secure the Jewel until allies from another world came to collect it. The monk had promised that before the beginning of the war, the House of Talargo would be fully informed as to who, and what, their allies would be. Who, and what, their enemies would be, would follow soon after.

  “We’ve been a people of peace for a thousand years,” her father had said.

  “And yet war is upon you now, my Lord King,” the monk had replied. His politeness and respect didn’t reduce the sting of his proclamation.

  ...........................

  Rohini looked ahead. The trail lead into the dark, where the trees were the tallest, and the sun was blotted out. She ordered the release of two scout dogs. They raced off into the distance and disappeared into the darkness.

  Moments later, the scouts barked. Their alarm echoed through the trees.

  “Arms.”

  The group formed into an advancing defensive formation, with the Princess in the middle of the train. They rounded a blind bend in the trail and came upon the two scouts circling a small dragonling. The creature was an undeveloped male, a juvenile, but still very dangerous. He was not yet capable of fire, but his long, vicious claws were razor sharp, and his thick coat of armor scales made him impervious to any attack the dogs could throw at him. His tail, covered in spikes, whipped around and smashed into the ground. He would impale the two scouts if he could catch them off guard, the dogs, however, barked and danced as if they were merely playing a game.

  “Hold the fighters back,” Rohini said. She wasn’t ready to lose them. They’d fight to the death, even if overpowered, and they were too useful to lose this early in her quest.

  The dog
handler spoke to the dogs, and they sat. Their discipline was second only to their ability to fight.

  “Release the other bitches.” The female dogs weren’t so eager to die; they’d distract the beast while her bowmen, which were in a position to fire when given the order, launched their iron-tipped arrows.

  Young dragonlings, especially ones hatched in the remote mountains, didn’t have an understanding of enemies. Until they came across people or dwarfs, their species were unmolested alpha predators. The idea that something could hurt them never crossed their primitive reptilian brains. The dogs, barking, teasing, chasing, they were the obvious threat to the juvenile, and he was busy trying to destroy them. The rest of the party, which was only a short lunge away from the beast, weren’t seen as a threat. The dragonling didn’t know it was about to die.

  “Nock,” Rohini said.

  “Target acquired,” both bowmen said at once.

  The dragonling had turned. It’s back was facing the party, and it was flinging its tail in circles to keep the four dogs from attacking it from the rear. No dog, not even a fighter with a death wish, would attack a beast with such sharp teeth straight on.

  The dragonling shuddered and then changed colors to match the forest floor.

  “What kind of magic is that?” one of the men asked.

  “I don’t know,” the princess said. She suspected the dogs would be tricked too and ordered them back.

  Three of them made it safely.

  “First Bowman, loose an arrow. Swordsmen, prepare to be attacked. Dog handler, release the fighters if the beast moves towards my ponies.”

  The First Bowman fired, and the arrow struck the dragonling in the left shoulder. He shrieked in fury and pain. The camouflage disappeared, and the creature’s coloring changed to brilliant red. He advanced, seemingly without fear, towards the party.