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HC: Pacifist | Ch. 227 - The Champion
🕑 Added 2024-02-27 18:13:44 +0000 UTCRoth had seen amazing things in Antioch, but this was different. The scale of this underground space was mind-boggling. It made him feel small in a way that the mountain over them couldn’t.
“Is this where you hold the games?”
“This is just the entrance, really. Come, I’ll take you to the reigning champion of the undercover mole competition. She's the one who will be able to tell you about trade and commerce with the moles. Real legend, this champion. She has won six months in a row.”
“Is that common?”
“Not at all,” Molly answered as she swam leisurely through the gravel.
Roth could hear the respect and admiration in Molly’s voice. It had to be a capable champion to hold the title like that. “How does undercover mole work?”
Molly paused and gave him the mole equivalent of an exasperated look.
It looked like she had explained it already, but Roth hadn’t understood her back then. “Lin was sleeping when you told the story, and he wants to know.” Roth felt Lin kick him but ignored him.
“Oh, OK. I suppose it’s understandable. He’s just a baby, after all. I’ve raised a litter or two. They do nap when you tell them stories,” she said understandingly. “Listen up, little kitten. Every edition of Undercover Mole has a story featuring different factions and characters. The goal of the game is to find who the moles are.”
“You mean moles, the animals, or moles as in undercover agents?”
“Undercover agents, of course. Whoever guesses the biggest number of moles in the story wins.”
It seemed a simple enough game. “Who writes the story?” asked Roth, curious.
“You can sign up as a scripter. The reigning champion decides the scripter of the next edition.”
“And I suppose the scripter can’t win the game.”
“They can. It’s difficult but possible. Scripters can earn points if sufficient participants fail to guess who the moles are.”
“What if the scripter just writes an impossible story? So that no one can guess anything?”
“Good question, martyr! You’re starting to think like a mole,” she praised. Was that a veiled insult to humans’ intellect? “That has happened in the past, and that’s why at least 10% of the participants have to guess who each mole is. If not, the scripter gets zero points.”
Roth’s eyes widened. It looked like a game full of twists and turns. The fact that the scripter was also a player in the game made the whole thing even more complex. Just how could someone craft a story that was difficult enough to fool most participants and easy enough to get enough people to guess it and avoid getting disqualified? “Has any scripter ever won an edition of Undercover Mole?”
“Oh yes, many times. The current champion has been the scripter for the past six months and has won every single time.”
“What?” Roth exclaimed. “And she got to be the scripter for six months? What are the odds of that?”
“Of course! She is the champion. She just gives herself the right to tell the story,” Molly explained. “She’s really good. She keeps tricking us time after time,” Molly said with fire in her voice. Roth was getting pumped up with meeting this incredible storyteller.
As Molly swam through what Roth was beginning to see as a gravel lake, she approached one of the shores close enough for Roth to see a giant gateway. Slashed into the rock on top of the gateway was “Undercover Mole Arena” with bold strokes. The entrance promised a massive amphitheater, where moles could sit around a stage and observe a complex play with plenty of espionage and counter-espionage. It turned out to be completely different from what Roth was expecting.
The place was cramped and there was a series of chambers dug into the mountain, big enough to hold only one mole at a time.
“How do you even see anything?”
“See? What are you talking about? This is built so we all can listen clearly to the story.”
Roth felt like slapping himself. Of course. Moles were nearly blind. Why would they want to see the story being played out? All they wanted was to listen to it. That only made the scripter’s role even more crucial. Nothing depended on an actor's performance but on every nuance and every word that the scripter wrote.
Molly turned left and right in the tunnel complex of the undercover mole amphitheater. Eventually, they arrived at the throne of the reigning champion.
She was a similar size to Molly, but her fur was golden. As Roth inspected her, he could see she had powerful stats, too.
Amelia, the Golden Mole
Lvl. 35
Hp: 6000
Ep: 1000
Skills: [Burrow], [Dig], [Enhanced Smell], [Sonar], [Confetti Slash], [Champion’s Strength].
She was an elite, and her level was considerably higher than Molly's.
“Greetings, champion,” Roth spoke, hoping he had gotten the honorifics right.
“Oh, such fluent Molian. It isn’t common for humans to speak our tongue. Even though you are so tiny, you have a big mind.”
“Thank you,” Roth said awkwardly as he prepared to do some bootlicking, “My mind is tiny compared to the great intellect of your great race. Moles are incredible diggers and architects. I wanted to talk to you because I’m a broker. There are probably things from the surface you would like to obtain and things you would like to sell. Therefore, I came here to offer my services and hopefully start a trade agreement with you.”
“No, thank you,” Amelia answered promptly.
“E-excuse me?” Roth choked. It was the first time someone had denied an offer to trade with him so blatantly.
“No, thank you,” she repeated. “We already have an exclusive trade agreement with someone.”
Roth's jaw dropped. “Another broker? Like me?”
“Yes.” That explained why he hadn’t been awarded any XP for being the first to find this place. Another player had beaten him to the punch. “A gentleman visits us occasionally, bringing us food and other things in exchange for some worthless rocks and minerals.” It sounded like a very sweet deal. Those worthless rocks were probably precious ore and gems!
“OK. So I guess that you being exclusive, there isn't anything I can do to obtain the rights to trade with you then.”
“That’s correct.”
Roth grimaced. This was the first time something like this had happened. He had never stumbled upon the work of another broker. He let out a heavy sigh. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Even if it were a rare profession, he couldn't be the only one having it, could he? “Thank you for hearing me out,” Roth said sadly, preparing to turn away. What a waste. After making it all the way down here, he was going to leave empty-handed. Just as he was about to give up, he whirled toward Amelia again. “Only the reigning champion of Undercover Mole gets to decide commerce-related matters. Yes?”
“That’s correct.”
“Is your trade agreement with this broker exclusive to the race? Or to you?” Roth said, biting his lip.
“I was the one who signed the deal. Of course, if another champion comes along, and they decide to revoke it, it will be within their right.”
“I see. And how long have you been working with this broker?”
Roth was aware that he was asking many questions. He hoped his charisma and friendship with the moles were high enough to make the champion answer the questions without offending her.
“Six months,” she replied sincerely.
It looked like this mole had been the reigning champion for consecutive months. Molly said this wasn’t at all common. She also said that scripters hardly ever won. Roth was smelling something fishy here.
“Thank you anyway. I'll be back. Can you give me a ride out, Molly?”
“Of course!”
Molly started the journey back to the tunnels under Charlesville. While she traveled, Roth thought about his conversation with Amelia. He had a big decision to make. There was at least one more broker out there, possibly more. So far, he had been lucky to expand his trade route without encroaching on a competitor’s territory. But how long would he be able to keep avoiding clashing with them?
What worried him the most was that even though the moles had signed an exclusive trade agreement with another broker, Roth had an idea of how he could get a piece of the pie. Did that mean that enemy brokers could also sabotage some of his exclusive trade agreements?
Roth thought back to everything he had been learning in the game. He didn’t enjoy being confrontational, and he had been able to stick to his principles so far. But this felt different for some reason. It felt like the enemy broker was helping Amelia win back-to-back games to maintain an agreement with them. That meant he could take over the trade agreement if he could get someone else to win.
This trade agreement was fair game. He didn’t have to fight or harm anyone; just compete with his competitor and win it fair and square. But did he want to pull such an aggressive business maneuver? What if a broker came over to the Green Woods and Hilsford and tried to steal away his business there? Would he take it lying down? Would he be a pushover broker?
He was also only in the boundary between regions. What guarantee did he have that most races in Rock Canyon weren’t already on trade agreements with other brokers? Was he going to travel to Saphira and stay out of the way of other merchants?
Additionally, there was something bigger hidden in these games. It looked like whoever won all trials could rule over the moles. Just how incredible would that be? The benefits had to be tantamount to completing a legendary quest. Even though Molly had laughed at the idea of someone being able to win all the competitions, it had to be possible.
Roth stretched his neck to both sides, cracking it. He had work to do.
*
“What do you mean he’s gone?”
The spy assigned to keep tabs on Roth’s movements bit the inside of his cheek as he endured the stern, reproving gaze of the chief of Kraken’s intelligence, DavyJones. “What else can I tell you, sir? He disappeared into the dome. Only the Ogres know how to get in.”
“And he hasn’t come out?”
“How should I know?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “If the dome’s the only way in and out, no, he hasn’t. But there’s no way of knowing if there are other exits.”
“Is this guy that hard to track? Didn’t you put a tracker on him? I thought you were supposed to be one of the guilds’ best trackers,” DavyJones said mockingly.
Even though DryGrass was fuming, he remained silent.
“Alright. I’ll work my contacts in the Ogres and see if we can discover anything about his whereabouts. Maybe they know.”
“Fine. What about me?”
“Stay there a little longer.”
“But, sir, I’ll fall behind the others if I sit here doing nothing.”
“I know this is unpleasant work, but I’ve got Kraken and ColdHand breathing down my neck about this, too. This guy has some major secrets that the guild wants.”
“Fine,” he said, annoyed. Whatever. It was their money. He would do what they paid him for.
*
BlueFire heard Trampler’s report till the end. Despite all his hours in Antioch, he could not find the secret to access the treeant’s shop and buy more of the [Miniaturizing Honeydew]. BlueFire massaged his temples as he considered all the information.
“So Roth disappeared into a tree you couldn’t access.”
“That’s right, sir,” Trampler answered.
“Interesting. The ant soldiers let him in, but they got in your way. Same thing for that gatekeeper. It closed the gate right after Pax entered,” BlueFire drummed his fingers on the table.
Trampler nodded.
“You and your team can leave.”
“O-of course, sir.”
BlueFire got off the call with Trampler and called his boss.
“Hey, Boss!”
“Hey, Blue.” Ogre seemed to be in the middle of a battle. He didn’t bother blurring his background. His camera whirled and moved everywhere, letting BlueFire see his swords' occasional parry and slash. He also saw Taran behind him, attacking two gorillas while Ogre took care of the rest. “What’s up?”
“We’ve lost track of Roth.”
“Again?! Haha. This guy is slippery. How did he do it?” Ogre asked, curious.
“He seems to be friends with the ants of Antioch.”
“Friends? With the mobs?”
“It’s the same thing as with the cats. He also has a relationship with several different races of animals. That’s why VIP members of the Union can’t attack mice, foxes, and other animals. I don’t know how he does it, but he has some way to create deep relationships with the animal NPCs,” BlueFire explained his theory. BlueFire had had the occasional quest that involved interacting with the animals, but nothing at the level of what Roth seemed to have.
“What are you thinking, then?”
“The Ogrelords have failed their mission. They can’t crack how he does it. I was thinking we two could go in.”
“Oh? It’s been a while since we last went out adventuring together.” After a while, he added, “What are you trying to prove, Blue? That Roth can do things you can’t? Or that you can do what he can?”
BlueFire clenched his teeth. “Maybe a little bit of both.”
The answer seemed to please his boss. “Let’s go then. Meet you in the Green Woods in an hour.”
Comments
Coleman Bland
For a bunch of moles they sure have weaved an interesting web of a society. A gameified meritocracy in essence. It’s wild ideas like these that make you appreciate this story all the more.
