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If you like this book, please consider buying it:

Mirror World, Book 1: Project Daily Grind

Mirror World, Book 2: The Citadel

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Watching the change come over his pallid fanged face was admittedly funny. He stood up in his seat, reading my characteristics. Naturally, I didn’t allow him to see my Shrewd Operator. He seemed sufficiently impressed with my Experienced level, anyway. I don’t think they had many diggers of my caliber here.

I flashed him a friendly smile. “So shall we sign me in? I’m a bit pressed for time.”

I left his office at nine in the morning. Not bad. I’d thought it might have taken longer than that. The corridor was already packed with sour-faced players lining up. Apparently, not many had been “lucky” enough to get a job with the dwarves. I didn’t see the three Dwandes anywhere. I was pretty sure the dwarves had hired them. I’d have done the same. A well-knit team is worth a lot. I knew this from experience.

I had signed their standard contract of my preferred piecework type. Two weeks. My level gave me no preferential treatment. Well, that was to be expected.

According to Weigner, Experienced Diggers didn’t stay in town long. They inevitably found a strong group and moved cluster in order to start mopping up instances. That was fine with me too. The fewer people down the mine, the more space for me to swing my pick.

Still, I wasn’t yet ready to join any mop-up groups. At my level, the minimum raid duration was six days. I wasn’t quite prepared to be stuck in some cave or grotto for almost a week without the chance of getting out. Firstly, because at this work pace I risked leveling up prematurely. You never know with my Operator. So as I wasn’t planning on blowing my cover, I’d have to work in a regular mine, slowly but surely. That also gave me the chance to check Zachary’s idea out, even though he knew nothing about it.

Secondly and most importantly, if my char’s Reputation with Mellenville wasn’t up to scratch, the in-game bank wouldn’t deal with me at all. And in order to level it up, I had to perform daily or long-term tasks within the city limits.

That decided it. I had to work in Lady Mel’s emerald fields. That would fetch me about fifteen hundred gold a week. No doubt I could have earned way more doing instances but at the moment, reputation was key. Plus I was desperate for a long-term work contract. If I failed to get a loan with Reflex Bank, then I’d have to go cap in hand to real-life banks. So the longer my working experience, the better. The main thing was to make sure I didn’t pop my clogs too soon. Nor do anything stupid. I had six weeks to raise a hundred eighty-five thousand dollars.

My next port of call was Mine Diggers Guild. I paid the weekly due of twenty-five bucks, this raising my Reputation with the guild 50 pt: 100 in total.

As I left the guild’s building slapping my bare feet along the marble tiles, I could hear giggles and quips. Enough! I could stand a lot if absolutely necessary but there was a limit to everything.

Thus thinking, I headed off to the market. Time to do some shopping. Admittedly I did look like a tramp.

“Holy Jesus,” I uttered, watching the central square transform before my very eyes.

I had surely expected to see some semblance of a market. The kind of market I knew in real life, that is. But this... Had I ventured in, I could have easily spent a week there.

My eyes watered with all the colors. The bright miscellany of tents and pavilions formed uneven aisles crowded with carts, kiosks and stands. I could hear the inevitable music playing.

They probably sold everything here. In an aisle off to my right, a big dwarf fronted a stand selling weapons and armor. To his left, a slim Alven lady boasted her embroidering skills; not two paces away from me, a fat Rhoggh was busy baking golden loaves of bread for everyone to marvel. The air was thick with music, vendors’ voices praising their goods, the howling and bellowing of animals... What a crazy place. At nine in the morning, mind you. Where would I go? Where was I supposed to find what I needed?

“Aquamarine dust! Aquamarine dust for sale!”

“Hares’ pelts! Wolves’ tails! Boars’ fangs! Bear claws!”

“I’ll buy your gear!”

“I’ll buy class-two herbal infusions! Price no object!”

“Hey, mister! Need some boots?”

At first I didn’t even realize he was addressing me. “Pardon?” I managed.

A ginger-haired guy of about twenty-five patiently waited for me to focus my stare on him. “Just wondering if you might need a pair of boots. I can see you ain’t got no gloves either.”

“No, I don’t,” I hurried to reply, embarrassed by my momentary lapse of concentration. "What have you got to offer?”

“Over there,” the guy waved somewhere to his right. “Stall nine. My uncle has some gear to sell. Froll’s the name. Understood?”

I nodded. Not waiting for me to reply, the guy stole deeper into the crowd. As I began moving in the direction he'd indicated, I couldn’t help hearing his voice,

“Hey, ma’am! Need a jacket?”

This was scary. A person with money wasn’t going to leave this place empty-handed. By the time I made my way to stall nine, I’d been offered all sorts of things, from needles to legendary-class swords. Had I had to move a bit further on, I was pretty sure I would have stumbled along a tank vendor.

Froll’s stall wasn’t that hard to find. It was groaning under piles of clothes, footwear and various accessories. I’d never been a big market shopper so I was completely out of my depth here. Sveta, she’d always enjoyed this sort of thing. She would have loved it here.

As I studied the goods, I cast a quick glance at the vendor. His nephew hadn’t taken after him, that’s for sure. They might have been related in real life but here in Mirror World it would have been a bit over the top.

Froll was a Rock Dwand. His stats were hidden. Broad-shouldered, wearing town clothes. Not a Grinder.

I coughed to attract his attention.

He turned round and beamed, seeing me. “How can I help you, dear sir? I just happen to have an excellent Strength kit,” he immediately switched to the offensive.

“No, thanks. I’m interested in Energy ones,” I said.

“Excellent. Hardy Digger will fit you just fine. I have both new and second-hand ones.”

I shook my head. “I’m afraid not. I need something more advanced.”

For a brief moment, his expression betrayed surprise. Then his face dropped.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“Not really,” he breathed a sigh of disappointment. “Thing is, I don’t trade in items for your caliber. I’ll tell you more: I don’t think this market has anything to offer someone like you.”

“Why not?”

“In this backwater? What do you expect? Experienced workers all move closer to the capital. If you take me, it’s not worth the trouble for me to stock items I can sell once or twice a year if at all. My cart and my storeroom can only hold a limited amount of items. Pointless lugging around something I can’t even sell.”

“I see,” I said. “But why would you lug them around? Can’t you just auction them?”

He smirked. “That’s what you think. Auctions charge a fee on every submitted item regardless of whether it sells or not. And here I only pay my custom duty, then I can sell till the cows come home.”

“I see.”

So that’s how it worked, then. I’d had no idea. You never know, it might be useful.

I bade my goodbye and was about to leave him when a jaunty female voice called behind my back,

“Excuse me, Sir Olgerd!”

I turned around. This was an Alven Archer girl. A pretty face; a pair of childishly blue eyes, slightly slanted. Black hair. Slim to the point of being fragile. A fancy bow and a quiver were slung behind her back. A knife and a dagger dangled from her belt. Her name was Saimie.

“I’m sorry to delay you,” she hurried to add. “I just happened to overhear your conversation.”

I smiled gallantly and shook my head. “It’s all right. We’re at the market, aren’t we? You’ve something to sell, haven’t you?”

She beamed. “Exactly. No clothes for your level, unfortunately, but I have some interesting jewelry. It’s on my stall over there, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, motioning me to follow her. I shrugged and followed, hoping I wasn’t getting into something I might later regret.

Her tent was comparatively small but neat and tastefully decorated, mainly in the shades of green that matched the vendress’ own clothes. A small round table stood at its center, surrounded by several small three-legged stools.

She pointed at one of them. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Without saying a word, I perched myself on the stool. Saimie produced a small canvas bundle and unfolded it on the table. “Have a look if anything takes your fancy.”

Right. What did we have there? I had a funny feeling I knew her line of business. After my memorable conversation with Shantarsky I’d checked a few forums and done a bit of research on No-Man’s Lands. There was a lot of eye-opening information there, especially about the likes of her.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Are you a scavenger?” I asked.

“Sure,” she nodded. “Why, does that bother you?” her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“In a way, yeah. Are you White or Black?”

She smiled. “Sure I’m White. Do you think I’d be standing here selling had I been Black? Black scavengers sell everything via their own channels. My business is perfectly legal.”

“Can’t you do your own looting?” I asked.

“Hey, those are No-Man’s Land mobs. I’m not exactly in the same league,” she paused, then offered the iron-clad argument used in virtually every forum discussion, “Ninety percent of all Mirror World players are scavengers. That’s just the way it is. You’ve any idea of all the stuff lying around there unclaimed?”

“Unclaimed? Really?”

“Of course. Imagine a group of level 100+ players. To cross the location, they’re obliged to mop it up. They don’t even look at all the loot from the low-level mobs. They save the space in their bags for much bigger game. Clan raids, that’s different, there’s virtually nothing left after them as they have their own newbs to feed. But there’s plenty of stuff left after the loners too. Personally, I sign a contract with a group and do my job. Waste not, want not.”

“I see,” I said. “You sure you never robbed any corpses? I wouldn’t want to buy some charm or bracelet off you only to be hunted down by its legitimate owner afterwards.”

“They’re clean!” Saimie said, indignant. “Here, look, they’re not marked!”

“Marks are easy to remove.”

“Do I look like I have tons of money to pay wizards for doing that? Are you going to have a look or not?”

It looked like I’d overdone it a bit. “Sure,” I mumbled. “I’m terribly sorry. I’ll take a look now, only it might take some time. I’ll have to compare the prices with the auction’s. Is that all right with you?”

“Of course. I’ll be there at the counter if you need me.”

She cooled off a little. I made a mental note to mind my tongue in the future. Apparently, not everything they said in blogs and on forums could be taken as gospel.

Let’s have a look. What had she got there?

Name: The Bone Bracelet of Gadang

Effect: +15 to Defense

Race restriction: Only Cave Horrud

Level: 10

Defense had something to do with combat skills, didn’t it? I opened the info portal. Aha. It reduced Physical Damage. That was good. Unfortunately, not for me. Some of the item’s stats made it useless in my particular case. Next.

Name: Bear Tooth Necklace

Effect: +10 to Strength

Race restriction: Only Forest Dwand

Level: 15

Not for me. Next. What else did she have?

Name: Rock Charm of Torrk

Effect: +15 to Speed

Race restriction: Only Cave Rhoggh

Level: 15

Having checked about twenty items, I finally found a couple of runes: one of bone, the other of stone. Both with +15 to Capacity: one for my future bag and the other for a belt. That was all. The rest were all wrong classes and wrong levels. I checked the auction but didn’t find any similar runes there. So I might take them just in case. You never know, I might need them some day. Now we had to discuss the price.

“Saimie? I’m done.”

She materialized next to me as if on cue. “Found anything?”

Without saying a word, I pushed the two chosen runes toward her.

“Good choice,” she said. “It’ll be two hundred gold.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. What a cheek!

“You sure you’re okay?” I asked. “Two hundred gold for two miserable runes?”

She seemed so surprised that she lost her professional manner. “Are you freakin’ nuts? These are Capacity runes from No-Man’s Lands! You try and level your reputation with geologists first and then you speak! These two runes are actually the most valuable items in my entire shop! Miserable runes, he says!”

She seemed to be sincerely upset. What a shame I couldn’t check out the authenticity of her claims. I had no access to forums. The info portal didn’t offer any intel. It was possible that the admins purposefully removed all information, editing the manuals and other players’ comments. Never mind. Not that I really needed them. I wasn’t prepared to splurge on some totally unknown and untested items.

“Do you have anything else?” I asked, expecting a negative answer.

In a moment, she’d say “no”. I’d bid my goodbye and be on my way. Neither of us would gain anything from this encounter. She seemed to understand it too. She didn’t look too happy about it.

Silently I rose from the table and headed for the exit. I hated shopping. Sveta would have already haggled the shop owner into submission. What was I saying!—she would have never been attracted to such irrelevant items to begin with.

“Actually,” her voice softened, “there is something I have... but I don’t think it’s worth your while.”

I turned around. That was weird. She sounded upset. I felt out of sorts too. The conversation had left a bad aftertaste. I had this tendency of putting my foot in it before I even knew all the details. I didn’t want to leave it like that.

“Take a look,” she reached into her bag for some item or other and offered it to me.

I peered at it. Snuggled in her hand lay something resembling a bird’s feather: either a charm or a pendant. Okay, why not? It was pretty. It looked like silver. Simple but tasteful. It wasn’t inlaid with precious stones—but the craftsmanship was amazing. You could see the feather’s every barb and quill. The craftsman was a genius. Then again, what was I saying? This was Mirror World. How about its stats, then?

Name: [unavailable]

Effect: [unavailable]

Race restriction: [unavailable]

Level : [unavailable]

I looked up at the girl, uncomprehending.

“Haven’t you ever seen a hidden-stats item before?” she sounded surprised.

“No, not really,” I mumbled, taking the silver feather from her.

She chuckled. “I see. To open them, you need to go to Mellenville and find an artifactor. It’s gonna cost you. But if the item turns out worth your while, you can make good money out of it. Of course it can also be junk. It’s the luck of the draw, if you know what I mean.”

“Why can’t you unlock it yourself?”

“It’s in Mellenville. I’ve still some leveling to do to get admission. Also, artifactors’ services cost an arm and a leg.”

“And where do such thingies come from?” I kept grilling her.

“They don’t. Not anymore. I was on a raid with this group of guys doing some hunting in the Misty Mountains just next to No-Man’s Lands. So we found this nest made of rocks, huge like you can’t imagine. Absolutely packed with bones inside. Well, I decided to check it. Found a few bits of steel and this feather. It was still attached to one of the skeletons. When I found it I thought, that’s it, that’s my lucky ticket.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “As if! Had it been a sword or a piece of armor, that’s different. You can take them to artifactors no problem. You’ll always get your money’s worth. But a dicey charm like this, who would need it? The auctions have already returned it to me a few times. I paid their lodging fees for nothing. So I’m obliged to lug it around like an idiot. It just takes up space.”

“It might go if the price is right,” I suggested.

She raised her head. “What price would be right for you?”

I winced. I hated tricks like that. It felt too much like manipulation.

I shrugged. “This is a strange situation, don’t you think? You’re offering me a pig in a poke and expect me to name my price?”

She looked up at me sullenly. “Not even twenty gold?”

I winced again. Enough. I was fed up with her childish attitude. Time to go. I had more pressing things to do.

“Fifteen!” she offered pleadingly, watching me turn away.

I heaved a sigh. “All right. Give it here.”

She’d talked me into it, hadn’t she?

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Buy Mirror World:

Mirror World, Book 1: Project Daily Grind

Mirror World, Book 2: The Citadel - release August 10, 2016

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