LIGHTNOVELONLINE 009
Even though Vetita is a lawless server, killing someone isn't always straightforward.
Typically, it's a good idea to identify a player before trying anything rash. Most people on the server belong to some form of guild, clan, or organization. All of them are essentially gangs. Whether they are loosely affiliated like university fraternities1A fraternity (from Latin frater: "brother"; whence, "brotherhood") or fraternal organization is an organization, society, club or fraternal order traditionally of men associated together for various religious or secular aims. (see Wikipedia) or tightly regulated like yakuza2Yakuza, also known as gokudō, are members of transnational organized crime syndicates originating in Japan.(see Wikipedia) syndicates, all of them are highly protective of their own family members.
Assaulting one member of a gang is like attacking the entire organization.
Most guilds furthermore have various rules and statutes.
For example, @Jasper is a member of the Northern Chattel Union (NCU), which is an association of independent slave traders that primarily operate in the northern quadrant of Spawn. The NCU has signed non-aggression pacts with over forty different factions and clans, and we are not permitted to attack players affiliated with any of those groups regardless of how much we dislike them. Altogether, delicate networks of alliances result in complicated systems of rules that dictate public law and order.
It might sound confusing, but the regional political landscape eventually makes sense once you've lived here for long enough.
I can't incinerate someone with a giant fireball just because I dislike them.
It would be very troublesome for @Jasper, who is ultimately responsible for my actions.
Moreover, I am a slave, and my arguments are given less weight than a free person's. If I got into a fight with a stranger, my opponent could make any number of false accusations — like I was attempting to escape — and it would be very difficult for me to contest their testimony at a public tribunal. If the NCU was adamant about seeing me punished, not even @Jasper could overturn the guild's sentence.
Even if I am stronger than my opponents, an open fight is disadvantageous for me.
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Fortunately, we were all on the same side.
The mercenaries recognized me as @Jasper's pet, so they lowered their weapons. However, they remained alert — in part because of my threatening attitude, and also because they knew I was genuinely dangerous. These men weren't idiots. The mercenaries had all seen the extent of my abilities last night, and I was a higher level than all of them. They had been joking around a provocative conversation topic, and they correctly inferred that I had been listening in on their banter.
The problem was that they had no way of knowing how I would react.
I was an unpredictable entity that nobody understood.
I took a deep breath and relaxed my posture in the tense room.
My tail curled as I smiled sweetly.
"Ah. I suppose must have misheard then?" I said provocatively.
It was a passive-aggressive statement.
There was no response.
None of us wanted a fight, but I wasn't about to let them off without making it blatantly clear that insulting my master was unacceptable. It was important to maintain @Jasper's dominant status on the airship, or else the ridiculing remarks would quickly escalate to a challenge to his authority. Reputation damage was difficult to fix, and as such I intended to crush any potential issues firmly.
My goal was to maintain a subtle balance between demure and respectable.
I walked straight towards the mercenary at the ship's helm while my tail swished casually behind me.
The entire room was staring at me, but I pretended to not notice their gaze.
"There's been a change of plans," I spoke in dull monotone to the dwarf at the navigation instruments. "We are turning back to port. My master has urgent matters to take care of."
I pretended to deliver a message from @Jasper. Of course, he hadn't actually given any orders like that, but my owner was going through an existential crisis. In the span of one night, everything that my master had been working for on this airship had become meaningless, and now he was threatening to kill himself. Obviously, I was going to take matters to my own hands in order to keep this airship afloat.
"What happened?" One of the mercenaries interjected from the side apprehensively.
"The prison cells are still at half capacity. We can still make a few more slave runs." The demon added.
"Yeah. What about our pay? I didn't sign onto this to be paid halfway."
I shrugged, flicked my ears, and turned around to face the mercenaries with my arms crossed.
"Everyone will be reimbursed in full," I said flatly. "This is urgent business. Earth intel."
This was a half-truth.
'Earth intel' was a codeword meaning that a player received some valuable external information from a synchronization dream. In many circumstances, trusted players would communicate offline outside of the game. Since it wasn't always convenient or safe to conduct long-distance communication on Vetita, some players would coordinate plans by passing messages on Earth.
Nobody questioned that statement.
Earth intel was often serious and secretive in nature.
"Any news you can share with us regarding the situation?"
I shook my head.
"No. It's not for your ears to hear."
The high elf mercenary scowled, clearly upset about my refusal to disclose more information.
I heard him mutter something under his breath as I walked passed him towards the exit.
—Fucking cunt. Needs to be properly retrained.
I stopped at the door.
But I walked out without another word.
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After I left the bridge, I headed to the ship's pantry to prepare the daily meal for the slaves. Ordinarily, @Jasper took care of these tedious affairs, but I didn't expect him to be functional enough to remember to feed the prisoners.
I didn't change back into my cat form, mostly because I needed the crew to get used to my presence sooner or later.
If @Jasper's apathy was going to last for any extended period of time, then I would need to use my hands and legs much more frequently.
I rummaged through the crates of supplies, mainly searching for stale bread that @Jasper ordinarily used to feed the slaves. One of the crates was a little moldy, which was a bit unfortunate, but I knew for a fact that @Jasper would have given it to the prisoners anyways. If anything, his logic would have been to use up the moldy bread first, mainly to get it out of the stockroom so it didn't spread.
It occurred to me partway through that there were probably leftovers from the mercenaries' celebration last night.
I checked the canteen, and sure enough nobody had cleaned up the mess yet.
There were still some partial flagons of ale and meat stew that had congealed overnight.
Since I had spent many years as a slave, I had a different perspective on food than most humans on Earth. For instance, half-eaten plates of food were still totally edible in my eyes, and it was a waste to throw it away. Most chattel slaves were rarely fed much more than bread and water, so leftovers from the dinner table were a total luxury.
@Jasper fed me extremely well, but I still remembered what it was like to be a slave in the beginning.
I spent some time sorting through the food waste.
As I was returning to the pantry with a bucketful of leftovers in my arms, I bumped into the half-elf mercenary again.
I found him in the pantry in the middle of stuffing a couple loafs of stale bread into his shirt.
He was stealing, in other words.
...Although I didn't understand why he was pilfering from the slaves' food stock.
I stared at him.
The half-elf seemed to sense my presence. When he turned around, his face turned deathly pale.
He had been caught red-handed.
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