Path of Dragons - A LitRPG Apocalypse (BOOK TWO ON KINDLE SEPT. 2)

Breeze hated his new home.

The whole planet was wild, with only a bare few bastions of civilization. Even the settlement he’d helped raise to some degree of prominence was little more than a backwater village, only on a slightly larger scale. When he’d left the Dawn Kingdom, he’d done so under some duress. Stealing from his Master was an expected part of his culture, but getting caught certainly was not.

If he’d stayed, he would have been tried and likely executed, sacrificed on the altar to feed their patron.

Fortunately, Earth had just been touched, and he managed to skate in just under the soft cap of level twenty-five. Otherwise, he might not have had anywhere else to go.

In any case, he’d originally considered it a great opportunity. As an Alchemist – and one who’d studied under one of the preeminent Masters in all of the Dawn Kingdom – Breeze’s foundation was strong enough to truly set him apart. He had expected to fly through the levels and take his rightful place as the new planet’s most powerful Tradesman.

And yet, nothing had worked out the way he’d hoped.

He had miscalculated just how rare high-quality ingredients were. The Dawn Kingdom had developed a partnership with the Rootborn – a sect of powerful Druids who were blessedly willing to part with some of the treasures they grew within their grove – so alchemical components had never been much of an issue. That was especially true for Breeze, whose Master was rich enough to stock his laboratory with whatever he wished.

When Breeze had reached Earth, he’d been astounded by the low ethereal density as well as the rarity of natural treasures. At first, he’d made do with mundane ingredients, but soon enough, it became clear that he would need more powerful components, and in great quantity.

Luckily, he had not come to Earth alone. Instead, he’d brought his own retinue that was in turn accompanied by many other refugees from the Dawn Kingdom. Wretches all, they were only good for manual labor. And even that was often beyond the scope of their abilities.

Like Earth itself, Breeze hated them, and he couldn’t wait until the world became fully integrated so he could take his rightful place in a more civilized world.

For now, though, he was stuck. And making matters worse, his potions – meticulously crafted and extremely powerful to maximize cultivation – had been absolutely overshadowed during the recent auction. By soap, no less. Simple soap. How the maker had created the potent cultivation aid had been a mystery right up until he’d discovered that the man who’d made it was a Druid.

That was when it all started to make sense.

And what’s more, he was the highest level person on the planet, which was more than a little surprising. Druids were powerful, and they had access to unique abilities that sometimes made cultivation much easier. However, they were not known for their rapid pace of progression.

The only way that was possible was if he had the backing of a powerful grove.

After Breeze had come to that conclusion, he’d begun to develop a plan that he hoped would solve all his problems. The first thing he considered was to simply make a deal with the Druid. However, the problem was that there really wasn’t much he could offer in exchange – especially considering that the amount of treasures he needed would absolutely destroy such a young grove. No Druid would agree to that.

And Breeze refused to take anything less than everything he needed.

He’d earned that right just by living in this backwater.

Fortunately, he had some hope for the viability of the other way, which was why he found himself standing at the bow of an elven cutter and studying the bay before him. His initial impressions were conflicting. On the one hand, he was impressed by the size. Normally, pirates weren’t terribly organized, which made building any sort of hub an exercise in futility. However, these particular buccaneers had created a large city that seemed almost peaceful.

Bloodrock Bay was anything but pretty, though.

Sure, it was novel, the way the buildings were built into the walls of cliffs encircling the bay itself. Breeze counted twenty levels, each one connected by a series of ramps, bridges, and ladders. More impressive was the system of docks and piers that stretched across half the bay. There were dozens of large ships there and hundreds of much smaller boats as well. Finally, he saw some ethereal cannons – clearly purchased recently – being fitted onto turrets at the ends of the docks.

If Breeze had to quantify the military might of a place like Bloodrock Bay, he would have put it in the upper echelons of Earth’s elite cities. Perhaps not as powerful as a place like Seattle, but strong enough to give any other force pause.

Of course, some of that strength was mitigated by the fact that, as pirates and smugglers, they weren’t likely to work well together. Assuredly, there was no unified command, and if it came down to open warfare, they would be at a disadvantage – especially on land.

But for what they did, they were almost certainly unmatched.

Which was why Breeze was there.

He didn’t move as the clipper cut smoothly through the water, then expertly docked at one of the longer piers. Without speaking to the captain – lowborn sea elf that he was – Breeze stepped off the ship and onto the dock.

That was when he saw his escort. A bearded brute of a man, he was instantly recognizable as his contact.

“Boris, I presume?”

“That’s me. You Breeze?”

Breeze confirmed his identity, and the man grunted, “Follow me. Captain Flint’s waitin’.”

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Bristling at the order – and the man’s lack of decorum, not to mention his briny odor – Breeze did as he was asked. Along the way, he was disgusted to see that the settlement was even more poorly managed than he’d thought at first glance. Not only were most of the people there dirty and often drunk, but he also saw plenty of non-human races as well. Short dwarves, shifty goblins, and even a few cunning gnomes were the most prominent, but he also saw a couple of races he didn’t recognize.

But the worst were the elves.

Most of those were sea elves. Probably from the nearby settlement where Breeze had hired his ship. Short and squat, they barely even qualified as related to true elves like Breeze. They were also semi-aquatic, able to thrive in coastal communities.

Many of the ones he saw were sailors, as expected. However, he also caught sight of a few prostitutes as well. Among other races, even the blunt features of a sea elf were considered exotic and beautiful.

Breeze catalogued everything as he followed the brutish Boris into the city. Fortunately, they were only forced to climb a few ramps to reach their destination on the third level.

As they headed into the inn, Breeze held a perfumed handkerchief to his nose. His sense of smell had always been sensitive – due to one of his abilities – and the sheer weight of so many disparate aromas was enough to make him lightheaded. He smelled sweat and stale beer, flowery perfume and acrid smoke – and so many more that made his stomach churn. As he followed Boris deeper inside, bile rose in his throat.

He held it in, though. He had enough self-control for that, at least.

Thankfully, they weren’t seated with the rabble in the common room. Instead, Boris led them into the back, where they were afforded a private space that was blessedly cut off from the din of inane conversations and, more importantly, the sour miasma of odors. A simple enchantment, but one for which the Alchemist was incredibly grateful.

He barely gave it any thought, though. Instead, he focused on the man he’d come to meet.

Cassius Flint was famous. Not across the world, but in the right circles, he was extremely well-known. Breeze had hired him twice before to hijack specific ships carrying valuable materials he’d then put to use in his advancement. Though just because the man was a familiar figure, that didn’t mean Breeze liked him.

He very much did not.

But such could be said about most of humanity. Breeze had been forced to deal with the uncouth savages for years, and he still hadn’t grown accustomed to just how dirty, smelly, and rude they could be. They were a means to an end, though – a necessary evil that he needed to endure for the greater good.

Meaning that if he ever wanted to escape this backwater, he needed their help.

To that end, he gave the pirate captain a small smile and the slightest of nods. “Captain Flint,” he said. “It has been far too long.”

“I agree. Take a seat,” the man said, indicating a polished oak chair on one side of the table. The other two seats were occupied by unfamiliar men. Likely other captains that either worked for or were allied with Flint. The job in question required multiple ships after all.

Breeze slid into the offered chair, noting Flint’s sudden grin. Two gold teeth flashed in the low light of the inn. Despicable.

It was just further evidence of the man’s ridiculous fashion sense. He dressed unlike anyone Breeze had ever seen, favoring a tricorn cap, a long coat, and knee-high leather boots topped by a thick, turned-down cuff. Those boots were currently resting on the surface of the scrubbed wooden table.

“So, you got a job for us?” asked Flint.

“That’s what I said in the message, was it not?”

“Fair enough. So, what is it? You got information on another shipment? That last one let me upgrade the Sea Serpent. And I got my eyes on a new sail. Supposed to be thirty percent more efficient.”

“A noble goal, I’m sure,” Breeze said. “What I have in mind would be more than enough to buy any number of…sails. Perhaps even a complete rebuild of your ship.”

Flint pulled his feet in, and his chair’s legs hit the floor with a thud. He leaned in, a predatory glint in his eye. “Now you got my attention, elf. What is it? Another ship? A fleet, maybe? You said you needed at least three vessels.”

“Yes. Three should do,” Breeze responded smoothly, knowing that he had more than the pirate’s attention. Flint was already hooked. “The target is an island far to the north.”

“We don’t go after cities. Not enough incentive.”

“Not a city,” Breeze answered. “A Druid grove. Full of valuable natural treasures and other resources. The tree at its center is likely the most valuable single item on this backwater of a planet.”

Indeed, from what Breeze had learned through arduous investigation was that there was an ancestral tree at the center of Elijah Hart’s grove. However, it was no normal ancestral tree – if there was such a thing when considering those potent natural treasures. No, this one had undergone some sort of mutation – perhaps more than one – making it a unique treasure that would almost assuredly fetch a heavy price on the Branch Market. The rest of the treasures he’d heard about, Breeze would use to advance his Alchemy.

“No.”

“What?” asked Breeze.

“I’ve heard stories about that place. Or more accurately, the man it belongs to. I got no interest in going up against the strongest man in the world. I’ve heard stories about it. He killed fifty men just for stepping foot –”

“Exaggerations.”

“Says you.”

“You don’t believe me? That same man was publicly disrespected during the Summit in Seattle,” Breeze said. “Put in his place, and without any repercussions. I saw it myself. The man might have a few levels, but he is not a fighter. Druids like to sit in their groves and grow natural treasures. They’re glorified gardeners.”

That wasn’t always true, as Breeze knew. However, only the most powerful among them were capable of doing any significant damage. No – he was certain of it – Elijah Hart doubtless possessed a low-grade class meant for growing pretty plants. On any other world, he’d be a gardener in truth.

That had to be the case, else the insult of the confrontation in question would have been met with significantly more backlash. Instead, there was only silence.

“I don’t expect you to take my word for it,” Breeze said, retrieving from his pocket one of the only things of true value he’d found on the planet. The tablet he’d bought in Seattle was useful in a thousand different ways – one of those was that it could store hundreds, if not thousands, of recordings. He passed it to Flint, who played the video of the incident. It only took a few moments, but when it was finished, Breeze said, “Do you see? He is weak, and his grove is ripe for plunder. You only need to take it.”

Flint set the tablet down, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he just asked, “What stops us from taking this information for ourselves? We don’t really need you, do we?”

Breeze had expected that. He twisted the ring on his finger. It was a simple gold band set with an emerald. “Do you know what I do, Captain Flint?”

“You make potions.”

“I do, I do. But do you know what my specialty is? What I’ve spent my entire life perfecting?”

“I don’t.”

“Poisons, Captain Flint. They’re a fascinating thing. Some can disperse into the air, completely undetectable. Others only require a simple touch. This ring – which I can break with only a thought – contains one of the airborne potions,” he said. “If I am attacked, you may succeed in killing me. However, I can assure you that I will not be the only casualty. Far from it. This ring contains enough poison to kill everyone in this inn. Perhaps enough to kill this entire settlement,” he said, tapping it against the wooden table. The other captains flinched with every movement, but Flint remained steady enough. “You asked what stops you from taking the information for yourselves and cutting me out? That’s my answer. Betray me, and this entire city will die before they even know they’re under attack.”

He sighed with practiced boredom. “But we need not be at odds,” he said. “You do the job, you take your cut, and we’re both happy. Easy.”

Flint glanced down at the ring, then at Breeze. There was steel in those eyes. “Easy,” he agreed.