В хронике моей... / In the Chronicle of Mine: 3.

3.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:51

* * *

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:51

Beyond the darkness of the entrance, there was absolutely nothing—only a void so strikingly similar to what he had seen just moments ago that the Earthling nearly shit himself in terror. But once again, the absence of a body prevented it, as did the realization that came a moment later: the void was similar, but not quite the same. And the almighty System-Scheme-Omnipresent responded to his call almost immediately, welcoming its traveler into its temple.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 12:49

The шыулфш arrived at the Temple of the Omnipresent, seeking answers!
Answers will be given!
From among the constellation of lights, the one who will become a guide and advisor has been chosen!

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 12:50

The images flashed by one after another, but Leonid managed to take it all in, once again freaking out and vowing to himself that he would definitely buy that guy a barrel of booze if he survived and didn’t end up homeless. It turned out that one of the privileges of a soul from another time was precisely the right to ask questions that could be posed in the Temple of the Omnipresent only once in a lifetime. And it didn’t matter exactly when—whether now, in a week, in ten days, or never. But one shouldn’t delay, or else one might lose that very presence of the otherworldly that makes a stranger a stranger, protected from utter lawlessness. Usually, such auras and properties fade away within the first year.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 12:52

Unlike the Pantheon and all the entities that inhabit it, the Omnipresent One requires no prayers, ordains no priests, and takes no interest in worldly affairs; she simply stands above everything and everyone. Yet in every city that is built in her worlds, a temple will spring up of its own accord. It will be the same faceless, unadorned stone statue of a cubic-rectangular shape, with an entrance arch on each face. The arch operates on the principle of spatial fractures, creating a separate sub-space for each visitor, or for groups, should they wish to enter together for some reason. Usually they don’t; usually they try to stay well away from Her Temples altogether, as even the information leaflet states in no uncertain terms, for fuck’s sake!

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 12:52

In a certain sense, one might regard all the rectangular churches as a single building, simply existing in a multitude of forms throughout Iulatar and beyond. It’s just that in the larger towns the cube is taller, whilst in the smaller towns—barely deserving of the name—the cube is noticeably more modest in size. In the glorious and good city of Morochny, the temple there is as tall as a nine-storey building and roughly the same size, whilst in Swan it stretches to a full thirty storeys. That’s probably another reason for boasting between cities. No, forget ‘probably’! It’s definitely a reason!

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 12:54

Upon entering the temple, the visitor, seeking answers, will find himself in a room formed in the middle of nowhere—a space more accurately described as a personal Rift, created for the visitor’s sake and lasting only for the duration of the visit. There, he will speak with his advisor, curator, godfather, or some other title denoting a rational being who has voluntarily or “voluntarily” dedicated himself to the temple and to Her. This individual will answer questions with all his competence, erudition, and knowledge, having no right to lie, no ability to remain silent, or to intentionally cause harm through omissions. He will answer, then forget the entire conversation immediately once the allotted time for the conversation ends. Nothing will remain in his memory, neither faces, nor questions, nor answers. And so it will be for the entire time you spend in the temple: such a counselor will emerge under the sky of Iulatar, aged, in a sense having even lost all his years. It is unclear where and for what purpose.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 12:59

It’s no surprise that this form of community service is very often used as a form of punishment, sometimes just one step short of execution. In the final stage, which is on par with execution, the criminal is simply handed over to the All-Seeing One to serve Her for the rest of their life. Incidentally, holding this position grants a small amount of experience, so your levels gradually rise, but your skill remains unchanged, and the rate of progression is such that regular leveling up will still be an order of magnitude faster. Again, only a sufficiently erudite and well-informed individual can become an advisor; otherwise, the Omnipresent will not accept the “offering.” A great many nobles go to such a “non-execution” “voluntarily” to avoid being executed for real. The reference didn’t state this directly, but it was quite clear between the lines; the only thing missing was a pop-up window labeled “SARCASM.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:07

In response, Temple Servants have every right not to answer questions that directly harm or endanger their home, family, or friends; no penalties are imposed for this. They also have the right to erase their face and image from the memory of any visitor—whether a newcomer or someone who purchased access to the Advisor mode through an auction or rewards from Trial quests. Of course, this is only if they choose to erase themselves from the client’s memory. All the answers remain, but who exactly answered them is impossible to recall—just a complete void in the mind.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:09

It’s no surprise that the local jerks tried so hard to keep isekais out of the Temple—or rather, to prevent them from taking advantage of the opportunity. Like, if you make the offer in a normal tone in a hall where the poor souls who’ve finally gotten their hands on some food and booze are feasting and getting drunk, they’ll hardly hear or react. Then, let them come in droves—after all, they’ll be fed and watered first, and then thoroughly taken advantage of, hired as powerless laborers or whatever else. But if an uncle (or auntie—let’s not be sexist) experienced in the ways of intrigue and deception speaks to them first—someone whose expertise is rewarded by the Omnipresent for the effectiveness of their advice—then it won’t be so easy to take advantage of the isekais. And never mind a couple of lucky ones with Worthy talents; who cares about them? We don’t care about the talentless or mediocre rabble either; advice wouldn’t help them much anyway.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:13

But if a bald sorceress were to walk through that Archway, she’d be given more than enough advice to ensure she—no, doesn’t go around screwing everyone. At worst, she herself would be taken advantage of, tied up, or otherwise persuaded to cooperate—the Earthling has not a shred of doubt about that. But she could have bargained for much more than she’ll get now, and that’s the kind of money and effort that makes this whole circus with horses and a sudden feast and drinking party worth starting in the first place. A few hundred young and healthy men and women, who will become someone’s labor force, won’t go to waste either. The costs are practically negligible, while the payoff is far greater.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:15

Thoughts like these were running through Leonid’s mind when he found himself materializing once again in the middle of a rather cozy study. A soft armchair, a wide table made of stained oak, numerous shelves with scrolls, sheets of notes, and handwritten diaries sticking out of them, as well as an imposing, short man sitting in the chair opposite him, with a thin, waxed mustache and an extremely distinctive gaze. A look that, to put it bluntly, perfectly embodied the old joke that everyone around him was a patched-up contraceptive, and only he was the Vicomte de Bragelonne in a snow-white cloak. The cloak was indeed there, only it was hanging on his chair, and its color was not white but a pastel peach.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:16

“What, is it High Tide already?” This guy clearly didn’t know the first thing about politeness or tact, nor did he understand why one needs to possess those two qualities, especially when talking to someone dressed in practically rags. “Have you already sold your skinny ass to the petty officials at city hall, or whoever buys you? Where are you from, anyway? Not your native world. I’ve always felt nothing but indifference toward your barbaric backwaters. From which city did you enter the archway, pleb?”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:20

What a start to a dialogue, what a fucking start.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:20

“From Morochny, in the Kingdom of Swan.” He replied—just in case, since who knows, maybe this jerk knows the local cuisine and might offer some advice. “I’d just ask you not to be rude, and not to call me ‘the pleb’ either; after all, you haven’t even verified whether I’m an isekai or someone else.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:43

“I owe Her nothing more than to answer your questions and do my utmost to ensure that this answer is useful—or even life-saving—for you, commoner, but I owe Her nothing else, and certainly nothing to you.” He emphasized this latest insult so masterfully with his tone that Leonid felt as if the bastard had just poured slop all over him. “As for the question: your lowly breed is immediately apparent from your posture, your mannerisms, and your stupid face. All right, your face is a bit smarter, but no more than that. And besides, you feeble-minded nobody, I’m not going to spare your feelings, because you’re an outsider and can’t be a nobleman of Iulatar a priori! As for Morochny, it’s quite the hole, but a big one, a large one, even a huge one, and truly foul-smelling. Fifteen, or better yet, twenty years ago, I could have told you what was there and what was happening, but now surely all the faces have already changed their dance positions, and my knowledge is worth little. But worth little doesn’t mean it’s completely free, I suppose. For the black-legged rags I wouldn’t remember, even if I had the chance to remember all of you, this will be enough, I’m sure."

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:46

System, Leonid has a question—what’s going to happen to him for trying to punch that jerk in the jaw? And how quickly will his own jaw end up up Leonid’s ass? No, seriously! It’s infuriating, and clearly intentional, aiming to piss off the visitor and provoke him into doing something stupid, or into ending the conversation early. The timer has been ticking away, measure by measure, for a full day now.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 13:48

“I need some advice, and for that, I'll even put up with a cocky jerk who thinks he's better than everyone else.” His reply sounded indifferent and downright condescending; Leonid knew how to put pressure on people, thanks to his years of experience. “It just so happened that when I came into this world, I ended up with two gifts...”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 14:15

"You’ve unlocked two skills—and they’re already at levels two and three, respectively, which isn’t half bad, especially for a pathetic little nobody like you." He interrupts him in a bored tone, as if he’s said this a hundred thousand times. And that may well be the case, even if his conscious memory of these conversations has faded. “A tiny gift from Her, one of the most common. The thing is, both skills are Worthy, which already opens up certain prospects for you, if you manage to develop them. And for that, you need money, connections, and knowledge. You won’t get the first from me, for I’m not in the mood to give these days; I’ve got none of the second left myself—otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here—but I’ll pour out as much of the third as your feeble mind can carry. And don’t pull an even dumber face than you already have, peasant—any advisor like me can see an isekai’s skills; it helps in Her affairs, you know."

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 14:19

For a moment, Leonid felt a tinge of vindictive anticipation, and then he smiled that sincere smile of someone who’d just been awarded a double bonus at the end of the month. A hint of suspicion flashed in his companion’s eyes—a slight, tentative look of disbelief.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 14:22

"Minor." And, seeing a new look of bewilderment in the eyes of the arrogant nobleman who still hadn’t introduced himself—next to whom even the late Balar seemed almost a beacon of democracy—he explained in more detail. “A minor gift granted me two Worthy skills. My second gift is not small, but HIgh. It is called ++‘Supreme Flow of Talent and Mastery,’ and its properties are as follows...”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 14:47

Somehow, the other guy knows that Leonid was telling the truth—which makes sense, since an advisor has to be able to tell when his client is fibbing. Or maybe there’s no such mechanism; maybe the idiot just believed what he was told right away for his own reasons—cold reading, all those methods for spotting lies, and stuff like that. Be that as it may, for a couple of minutes, he just sits there silently, flapping his mouth like a guppy, without making a sound. But then... then he starts guffawing, laughing, roaring, shrieking with laughter, completely losing his aristocratic-redneck manners, dropping the monocle he’d been wearing over his eye under the table, nearly tearing off his mustache, twisting it into a pretzel, and just twitching like an epileptic having a violent seizure.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 14:48

"...Huh. Hmm. Ahem! Yeah. Yee-e-e-e-eh... I so hate you, you blood-tainted bastard, for simply existing and for the mercy you carry in the hearts and souls of your own, while I—or any other worthy soul—am deprived of it." Leonid became genuinely curious whether he would be the first in history whose advisor would die of an aneurysm, and whether the system would grant any special achievements for this. "I perceive such a gift as a mockery of the All-Merciful, her cruelty and a display of ruthlessness, painful to every decent nobleman whose very essence is imbued with the essence of primal nobility. Not to possess such a gift, while seeing someone a priori unworthy, like you, possess it—is torment, pain, and humiliation such as I have known neither before nor since the day of my confinement in Her temple."

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:41

Deep breaths gradually, yet rapidly, bring the man back to his senses; deft movements smooth out his rumpled clothes, straighten his mustache, and brush off his collar; a moment later, the monocle on its chain takes its rightful place. He stands up, which is why Leonid only manages to remain seated in his chair through a conscious effort; he so badly wanted to stand up himself, either to stand at attention or to smash someone’s face in. And then the jerk began to speak, and now his words sounded far more interesting to the earthling who had found himself in another world.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:42

"My name is Avaris al-Refrit, Viscount, Knight, and second son of the head of the House of al-Refrit, a vassal of the Count’s Coat of Arms of the Duchy of al-Terre. I have been stripped of my title, my right to inheritance, and my own name, and my imprisonment here will be eternal until the royal dynasty under the swan’s wing changes, which means one simple truth—I will die of old age long before I am set free, despite all my hopes to the contrary." He still doesn’t even hide his contempt; he doesn’t let even a shred of respect into his voice, but there is enough solemnity and some kind of desperate resolve in him for five men, if not five hundred. "I swear to you by my House, now ruled by another bloodline, I swear by a name I have no right to call my own, I swear by all that remains to me. For this turn of events, for the twenty-four-plus bells remaining to us, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you realize your potential and achieve greatness as complete as it is possible, no matter how unworthy you may be of even a shadow of that greatness."

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:45

White patches appear on his face, expressing such utter malice that it reaches a point where Leonid becomes frightened, despite the report stating that the advisor is, by definition, incapable of causing harm, no matter how hard he tries. Avaris del Asshole’s fingers tremble so much that he certainly cannot be a surgeon; beads of sweat trickle down his temples, but his eyes... by all the gods of your Iulatar and the All-Seeing One above, hellish forges are blazing right there in his eyes!

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:49

"You are now on lands that have fallen into the hands of those who once destroyed my House. You are a prodigious talent, gifted in a manner befitting that title. I will explain how to hide yourself, help you blend into the crowd, and avoid standing out. But you won’t be able to pull it off; you’ll fail and end up in their sphere of interest. It will happen sooner or later." This isn’t a prophecy, but some kind of verdict; all it’s missing is a judge’s gavel, though with that gavel he’d be banging on someone’s skull. “Even now, you possess potential equal to that of a duke, at the very least. You won’t be able to become mediocre, even if you make a conscious effort—your path is either greatness, or ruin, or a cage, and then ruin anyway. In the long run, you’re a threat even to the very one who wears the Crown of Swan Feathers. And that means the very fact of your success will be revenge on my enemies, my sworn foes. You’ll be forced to face them, and if you don’t croak in a ditch right away, you’ll inflict damage on them. One way or another. And even if I do not remember, it is I who will allow the seed of your glory to sprout on their soil. And who now dares to say that the Omnipresent cannot choose the advisor most needed by one who has come seeking counsel?"

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:54

His smile looks forced; it isn’t scary in itself, but it’s unsettling because of the madness hidden behind it—behind those strained cheeks that look as if they’re about to burst from the tension.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:55

“Speak up, you rabble, speak up and prepare to heed my wisdom.” A pause of a second, five seconds, half a minute... "You filthy scum, you gutter rabble, you dog’s soul, state your name and your father’s name—what, am I to keep calling you rabble all this time, which, I might add, has already grown short?"

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:58

"Ahem. Oh, right, sorry, buddy, pathos of this line took my breath away." It’s hard to say what threw him off more—the “buddy” or the joke itself. “My name is Leonid Ptakh. Ptakh isn’t a nickname, but a family name, I should note. Not that you give a shit, but my family traces back to the Cossack chieftains of Zaporizhzhia—think of it as a mix of military aristocracy and all sorts of raubritters.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 16:04

“You're right, I don't give a damn, Ptakh.” Avaris replies with a brief nod, and a moment later, he's already sitting at the table, pulling out a stack of papers—who knows where he got them—covered with all sorts of notes. “Pull up a chair; we've got a hell of a lot of work to do.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 16:04

* * *

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 15:43

Outside the temple, it was still the same night as when he had first entered, except that the positions of the late-night passersby and the brave guards standing at strategic points—such as near that large wine shop—had changed. A pair of guards, by the way, spotted a lone, ragged figure emerging from the archway and slowly, without any aggression, made their way toward him, as if giving him a chance to make a quick getaway. They won’t deliberately catch him and drag him to jail; they understand perfectly well who the Isekai is, just as they understand that he has every right to be here today. But if he deliberately disrupts the order with his ragged appearance, they’ll still beat him up as a preventive measure—otherwise, they’ll get a dressing-down from the owners of the estates and shops on the main square, where they don’t want to see any ragged folks and don’t give a damn whether they’re isekais or not.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 07:21

Ptakh wisely decided not to draw attention to himself. He quickly ran down the stairs and headed for the nearest alley. He had a rough map of the city, but it was nearly thirty years out of date, so he could only rely on it in the most general terms. The rest of his fellow sufferers were not near the arch; they had most likely voluntarily cut short the twenty-four-hour question-and-answer session of their own accord. Because they were hungry and very tired, and their advisor had not been willing to part with the few pieces of bread he had stashed away. The bodies of Her advisors are sustained by the system itself and do not require food, but they can certainly derive pleasure from it. Each of them, when heading to their “workplace,” often takes along a flask of booze, some snacks, and the like—so they can treat themselves during the forgettable dialogues with countless visitors.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 07:23

There were many ways to secure the help of a suitable advisor—quest rewards, special gifts, sacrificing valuable artifacts, or even portions of one’s own status. There were plenty of options, too many to list, and Avaris had no intention of listing them; it wasn’t the right time. He had a few sips left of some surprisingly potent herbal tincture, tasting like Earth’s Jägermeister, only capable of making a dead man dance both the lower and upper breaks at the same time, even if with different body parts. And it was so filling that you could go three days without eating anything without harming your body. And without sleeping, too—even if you ended up passing out for twenty hours, and passing out so soundly that not even a volley from magical alchemical ship cannons made by gnomes could wake you up. So he shared a sip of this invigorating crap with the earthling, who was starting to doze off and drown out the wise advice with the rumbling of his stomach.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 07:25

When Ptakh returned the flask to him—the very one from which the commoner, the rabble, the peasant, the black-legged man, and a hundred other epithets had drunk—Avaris stared at it as if it were a venomous snake and seemed ready to throw it away. Instead, he first took a second and final sip (still no harm, but only a third of the effect of the first), because he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to drink from that flask afterward, even if he didn’t remember. Better death and oblivion, yes. What a surprisingly principled asshole—he’s literally steeped to the core in equal parts nobility and assholery. The only consolation is that, even against the backdrop of local class morality and madness, this dickhead stood out like a redwood among little fir trees.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 07:28

Well, strictly speaking, he didn’t admit it outright. Rather, on the contrary, he lamented how little nobility is valued in this world, allowing the commoners too much freedom, and sometimes—Oh Omnipresent One—even entering into misalliances with them. And it wasn’t a desire to have fun with a decent-looking young lady from a good House of Scarlet Velvet, but rather to bind themselves in the bonds of marriage—such bestiality. A disgrace to his gray hair; it’s a good thing he’s already sitting in his confinement and doesn’t see where this world is rolling next. In his mind, Ptakh never stopped waving a sign that read “sarcasm” whenever he heard these words. The worst part was that Avaris remained deadly serious in his opinion—so serious that it wasn’t funny anymore, but, damn it, scary. It was even a little comforting to know that this asshole was securely locked up in a dungeon like this.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 07:32

If only he had been locked there by an even more eccentric asshole, it would have been absolutely delightful.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 07:33

A turn, another turn, a quick dash, then hide in a dark alley and freeze. Night is a time of wonders and fear, both within the cities and beyond their walls. If outside the protective walls of the city of three hundred thousand—the jewel of the ruined lands, and in fact the only major city in the region at all, since Chalny comes in second with a population barely reaching thirty-five thousand—the role of the nocturnal threat was played by night creatures, then within the city, that role was taken over by rational humans and non-humans. There were creatures too, but they hid themselves here, lurking, attacking rarely and unnoticed, leaving no traces, while the nocturnal classes of all manner of thieves and other riffraff naturally and justifiably considered the night their time.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 07:43

The perfect time for leveling up, for work, for fun, and for all of that combined. If you’re caught out in the open like that—without a guild or workshop insignia, without any connections to the locals—you’ll wake up in the morning in a meat market or a slave pen. That is, if you wake up at all, and aren’t found with your throat slit and your guts ripped out for black alchemy. The romance of true fantasy, damn it, why aren’t you smiling, an isekai? Not funny? This is Iulatara!

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 08:40

With the boost of a non-Egermeister, the Earthling isn’t afraid of either dying or simply falling asleep and thereby missing someone’s approach. So he sits there, silent, staring at the wall and mentally repeating everything he’s memorized during his 24-hour vigil. Avaris forced him to memorize a good chunk of it, to recite it verbatim, like a poem. As a teacher, he was even more of a jerk than as a person, but, damn it, he was incredibly competent, because he explained things like a god. If he’d had a teacher like that in school, teaching math, he’d be giving Perelman the finger right now, instead of sitting in the middle of a stinking alley.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 08:41

The city at night went about its business, but that business passed Ptakh by, who, without any unnecessary adventures, waited out the night until the first rays of the local sun appeared, then stepped out of the alley as if nothing had happened and set off toward the bustling district of the mid-sized city. His pockets jingled with emptiness, so loudly that when a short man, barely taller than his waist, bumped into him in the crowd, Ptakh was very surprised. No, not by the collision itself, but by the fact that the man caught up with him a moment later, tugged at his sleeve, and slipped a rather large, though slightly bent, copper coin into his hand.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 08:43

"Here, you ragged thing, buy some food and a bed at the flophouse." While the Earthling stared at the coin in bewilderment, someone from above offered him some sound advice. “Don’t go near the workhouses—they’ll waste you there. Better ask the shopkeepers for help; tell them you’re an Isekai, and maybe someone will help you out for a while and give you a job. And don’t walk around the streets like that—they’ll rob you.”

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 08:44

It took a while for Ptakh to realize that it was this very same fellow who had tried to pick his pocket, only to find not even a crumpled copper coin there, which made him take pity and decide to help the poor soul. The fact that the short little man turned out to be a genuine halfling, practically the first non-human he’d encountered in this world, didn’t dawn on him until even later. And the fact that he looked so pathetic that even thieves didn’t rob him but instead gave him alms was simply depressing and somewhat saddening. But Ptakh didn’t throw the coin away; instead, he stopped meditating on the go, preferring to move forward carefully and cautiously. He relaxed, figuring there was nothing to rob from him anyway, and besides, the advice to train at every opportunity still rang in his ears.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 08:47

\\
...your greatest achievement, your greatest sin, and your greatest virtue! Don’t waste a single minute or hour, you wretched rabble! Your gift holds incredible promise for the future, but right now, you’re hardly any different from the hundreds of other black-footed Isekais who are dying or falling into slavery at this very moment. To blossom, like a flower, you need time and effort—and far more effort than even time. It is with time that you will have the greatest freedom, spending months where others have spent years...

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 08:52

Yeah, Avaris certainly wasn’t lacking in expressiveness, nor in that indescribable, greedy envy he didn’t even try to hide—envy that some upstart had gotten everything he’d never even dared to dream of. Ptakh wasn’t deluding himself. If it weren’t for the constraints of being an advisor, if it weren’t for the desire to take revenge on his tormentors, if there were even the slightest chance, that deranged piece of shit would have killed him on the spot, the moment he realized he couldn’t take the other man’s gift. By the way, it wasn’t necessarily impossible—the most powerful dark mages could quite successfully try to carve out certain parts of another’s status and transplant them onto themselves. In fact, they did this regularly, which is why they were demonstratively disliked, constantly hunted and killed, yet in reality, their services were regularly and secretly utilized.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 09:00

It took the earthling a while to reach his destination. Morochny was truly vast—damn vast—comprising several cities, fortresses, and fortified districts that had grown together centuries ago, completing their merger with the construction of an outer wall and the renaming of individual quarters after the central one, which had become the heart of the city. The city, as it flourishes today, literally milks and drains the Rifts and Sores, generating a mountain of system loot and supporting the work of countless Guilds, Shops, and Noble Houses. It all comes down to skill points, which are earned either through leveling up—one per skill—or through the so-called Affiliation Mechanic. Read: membership in Guilds, Clans, Workshops, or those very Noble Houses.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 09:02

For example, you join the “Eagles of the Peak” war guild, and as you climb the guild ranks, you earn the right to enter a stable rift dungeon where you’ll complete a fairly complex system quest. And in doing so, you won’t gain a character level, but rather a Guild Level. Such levels usually don’t grant any improvements to your body, aura, or spirit, but they do grant skills—though not all skills. War guilds will have their own list, while magical, scouting, hunting, and other guilds will have their own. By correctly assembling a build from skills fully covered by the relevant organization, you can gain almost as much from an affiliation level as you would from a regular level—and often even more. At times, it’s even significantly more if you complete several Trial quests, putting in a lot of effort and achieving a result higher than ninety-nine out of a hundred fellow members. An extra skill point, an unexpected upgrade, bonus experience, and all that. The final bonus depends on the situation.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 08:57

Alas, you can only join each organization once, and choosing one option rules out all the others; leaving one is difficult, and doing so will almost certainly result in the loss of any rewards earned through the Trials. So you need to choose very wisely from the start, preferably opting for the most well-established Guild, Clan, House, or whatever. The highest rank is the eleventh, meaning eleven levels of affiliation, but there are only a handful of such organizations in all of Iulatar. And the competition to get in is like applying to Oxford—the requirements for connections and influence are roughly the same, and no grants. So instead of empty dreams of belonging to a Royal House or the “Masters of Sorcery” guild, it’s easier to join the equivalent of some vocational school with three levels of membership, but with the real prospect of passing all three Trials.

Camrad_RIP 10.05.26 в 06:29