The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 356: Last of the elves’ finest

Mason's brain was feeling a bit like it had training with Eve—filled with information he hadn't yet comprehended, and simmering slightly in lust. Thoughts of the end of his evening and his girls were driving him to distraction, but he wanted to see everything new in Nassau before he gave himself permission to enjoy.

The 'Scout's Enclave' was next. Then, he commanded himself, the neglected crafters.

The scout building looked like a barracks or a fort, just with more...wood. He hoped it wasn't as flammable as it looked, or the gates and sturdy design was pretty much all for show. He walked through the open entrance admiring the design and trying not to see the flaws, a bit surprised to find at least three people inside.

"Patron." Kiaan turned and bowed his head at the same time as an elf, both men standing from some item of interest at a desk. Cliknik the goblin jumped up from his squat beside them with a big, fake looking smile with way too many teeth. Streak growled, and the goblin scrambled behind the desk.

"Gentlemen," Mason said, returning the nod. He looked at the elf. "I'm sorry I don't think I know your name."

"Orlon, lord," said the last remaining elven scout, and one of the few elven males left alive. "Thank you, for this enclave. It's...a welcome reminder of home."

The scout said it with a sad voice, and Mason gave him a questioning look as he approached. The elf shrugged, turning to empty chairs around a central table.

"I am reminded of the kin who should fill these seats," he said.

Mason nodded, expecting he couldn't comprehend the man's loss. These people were young for elves, he knew, but hadn't Naya said she was almost a hundred years old? How long must this scout have known and probably served beside his comrades? Mason walked to the desk and took a pitcher of water, filling a few nearby cups.

"Later, we'll get proper drinks," he said, a bit annoyed there wasn't something here. "But...my people. We toast, that is, we drink, for the fallen. Say some useless words." He lifted the cup, and after an amused look, so did the elf. It was silly, maybe, but Mason spoke with a serious tone.

"You and your scouts saved lady Naya. My wife. You brought the survivors here. You maybe found the holy land they left Sharisse for. You've won, Orlon, no matter what happened, or what happens now. You did your duty." He let that hang in the air, and saw the scout's eyes maybe even battle with some water.

"To the victorious dead," Mason said. After several seconds of staring at the chairs, Orlon blinked and nodded.

"A fine sentiment, lord"

They drank and said nothing for awhile. Mason wandered the enclave inspecting the impressive architecture until Orlon seemed ready. He felt much more natural with players, or a man like this who knew what it was to fight for survival. Something made far more sense to him about how such people thought, and the words came more naturally. There was none of the...awkwardness he felt with civilians.

"I don't expect you came here to discuss my fallen brethren," said Orlon, coming forward with his arms behind his back in some kind of obviously formal stance. "How may I assist you, lord?"

Mason glanced between his scouts and shrugged.

"You can start by telling me how the hell this place works."

Orlon grinned and gestured to the huge central table. He lifted his hand, and the smooth surface sprung to life with colors and texture with all kinds of symbols. Pretty soon it became obvious: it was a giant, slightly 3-dimensional map.

"I have taken the liberty of filling it with everything I know, adding the knowledge of your man Kiaan and his...goblin servant."

"I knew next to nothing compared to Captain Orlon, Patron," Kiaan said, coming forward. "He has filled in most of the continent, adding endless amounts of detail."

Mason scanned the image until he had his bearings, using the great forest as his 'center', though it was really in the north of the continent. Kiaan was right, the details he was looking at far exceeded their currently limited knowledge.

"This is incredible," he said, looking at the map's legend to figure out what all the markings were. It looked like the elves had marked all kinds of 'resource' sites, 'dangers', often including the nature of those dangers, as well as unique features or legends.

With his growing intuition of this game, Mason expected they'd find dungeons, settlements, items or creatures, all kinds of things at these ‘special’ locations. He looked at the scout and grinned.

"Even if you sit on your ass now, Orlon, you’ve already proved your worth."

The scout smiled politely. "We assign a certain level of exploration based on our knowledge," he explained. "I understand you have a primitive...a teleportation device here at your settlement?" Mason nodded, and the scout pointed at an area near the great forest.

"This place, for example, is explored well enough now. As patron, if you focus on it you should be able to..."

As Mason stared at the spot, a window opened just above the table with several options, some of which were greyed out. But one obvious choice was 'activate teleportation beacon'. He felt his eyes opening wider.

"You're telling me I can...teleport to right here? Right now?"

The scout nodded. "Within the limits of your device, of course. And the crystal that powers this beacon must also be re-charged. At its current power level, it would take a week."

Mason nodded, still incredibly impressed. He suspected the enclave's 'crystal' could be upgraded with more points, and so could his teleportation beacon. Of course they'd be limited by their exploration of the terrain. But even so, this was an amazing tool.

It meant Mason didn't always have to Wyrdwalk first. The others would be able to travel the continent (and possibly later, the world), in the blink of an eye, and return to the beacon in Nassau. Once a week was a hell of a lot better than 'not at all'.

"It also serves as a...kind of communication device," said Orlon. "Though only between those who are able to be trained. We call it being Crystal Sensitive in Sharisse. It was this ability which determined whether or not an elven child was suitable to become a scout."

Maised raised a brow and glanced at Kiaan. He hadn't exactly figured out how to talk about 'the game' with elves or other non-humans around, as their understanding of the world didn't mesh with the rules. It was like talking to fully immersed actors in a movie where you could break the fourth wall.

"For us...humans," Kiaan said, "suitability seems determined by class, Patron. I've already taken it. For now it seems limited to text. Though perhaps it will improve in time."

"It should," confirmed Orlon. "In fact your ability already is staggering, but you lack range. With training, using the crystal, experienced scouts should be able to speak over vast distances."

Mason was never a big fan of cell phones, but they were sure welcome now.

"We have a communication beacon as well," he said. "Will that help?"

Orlon nodded.

"Any trained scout should be able to communicate with someone using the beacon, regardless of distance. The crystal will be able to contact it."

"OK." Mason grinned. "So we have a map. We can teleport once a week. We can talk to the beacon and maybe between scouts soon enough. Anything else?"

"I can train your people in my trade, if you wish, lord." Orlon glanced again at the empty chairs. "This world is vast and largely forgotten, even by my people. And it will have changed since we left. Many of my details may be incorrect, or incomplete. Swift scouts will be needed to re-map it."

Again Kiaan looked to Mason and explained further.

"Our civilians gain specialties, Patron. Not so different to your prestige classes. Even a crafter could train with Orlon. Though obviously some are more suited than others, like myself."

"My apologies, lord," said Orlon, nodding to Kiaan. "I don't know human ways. But I am very pleased to have Master Kiaan to help interpret."

"Don't worry," Mason said, walking to the man and patting his arm. "I'm more than pleased with this place, and the explanation. We'll give our people the chance to come to you, and I expect we'll have a few takers. Not everyone likes to be stuck behind walls every day. Become a scout. See the world," he said with a grin.

The elf just looked back and forth and gave Mason a tight lipped smile. No doubt getting to know each other and building some trust would take time. Fortunately, Mason had a lot. Unless he got himself killed.

"Thanks again." He glanced at the silent goblin and sighed, no idea when or even if Blake would be around to scour the creature's mind. "And you might as well work with Cliknik here. If that's what he wants."

The goblin spasmed when his name was used. He blinked and looked up with his signature smile.

"Oh yes. Cliknik would be very happy to teach elves and men many things. Like how wrong is map. Very bad. Where is underground, yes? Bad map. Very wrong."

Orlon went slightly red. Kiaan raised a thick brow as the goblin nodded as if agreeing with his own point, and Mason held back his smile.

"Well. You argue amongst yourselves, and I'll be happy to hear all about it. But not today."

With that he waved a hand in goodbye, pulling Streak away from the cringing goblin before walking for the crafters. The thought of his girls grew like a fog covering his senses, but he refused to go back until he'd finished his tasks. With what he hoped was his last long sigh of the evening, he made his way to the crafter quarter.

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