Chapter 44: Legendary Gear and a Letter

The dark iron dwarf brothers banged away — clang, clatter, clang — and before long the first mithril short sword was finished. Say what you will, weapons made from good materials really are a notch above the ordinary. Holding it, Sharlock could plainly feel that this weapon's quality sat in a whole different class from anything forged of diamond — converted into Attack Power, the numbers would be far prettier than any diamond weapon's.

But that was as far as it went. In Sharlock's eyes, still junk.

In total, they forged three suits of armor and three weapons. To round out the weapon pool and juice up the players' fun, Sharlock had conferred with Goldmane and settled on a short sword, a one-handed hammer, and a dagger.

The armor was all the same material — just a touch of variety in the styling.

Forging the mithril weapons and armor took a full day — mainly because Sharlock insisted on fine craftsmanship. Otherwise blacksmith Goldmane would have just banged them out bam-bam-bam to standard mithril-ore specs in no time flat.

Sharlock had no intention of standing around spectating the whole smithing process — he had forums to read back at the core hall.

The players still weren't buying private territory or beds. The kobold chief's loot hadn't gone to auction yet, and copper prices could keep on climbing — so everyone was sitting on their coins, either waiting for the auction or waiting for the peak price to sell.

He'd assumed that after publishing the new patch notes he'd be run off his feet for a while — instead, Sharlock found himself enjoying the leisure.

...

"Lord Sharlock."

Sharlock heard someone calling from outside and finally looked up, toward the entrance of the dungeon core hall. Blacksmith Goldmane, with carpenter Ironmane's help, had arrived with the three weapons and three suits of armor and was waiting outside the core hall.

Sharlock checked the time displayed on the forums: it was already 3 a.m.

This late? Sharlock was a little foggy on it. He didn't feel like he'd read that many threads — how had the time just evaporated on him?

Another look outside: players bustling to and fro, hard at work everywhere the eye fell. THIS many people online?

Sharlock was a little surprised. At this hour there'd normally be ten or so players online at the very most — the vast majority would have logged off long ago.

"Lord Sharlock."

Outside, Goldmane called again.

And the players were starting to crowd in around them again. The last thing Sharlock wanted was them slacking off hoping for another cutscene — not when he'd finally gotten to see them working this hard.

Sharlock opened the core hall and welcomed the two dark iron dwarf brothers in. Ironmane still looked a little out of his element — understandable, since arriving at the Eternal Kingdom he'd found entirely too many things strange, and adjusting would take a little time.

The brothers had come to deliver the finished mithril weapons. Once Sharlock accepted the gear, the two took their leave.

Goldmane threw an arm around Ironmane, chatting and laughing, and the two headed back to their own quarters under the players' watchful gawk.

Sharlock inspected the weapons and armor, then — with Bru's help — annotated the stat panel information and posted the gear details on the core hall's front entrance, right where a big crowd of players was already pressed in gawking.

All three weapons looked flat-out cool, and with "Kramo" stamped on them, the players instantly decided these were high-class goods. The kobold chief HAD been the great kobold chief who'd worked them over something awful, after all. But however strong he was — so what? Didn't us players still take him down in the end?

Besides the weapons there were three pieces of armor: a breastplate, leg armor, and a helmet.

The second the stats of six legendary pieces went up, the entire dungeon's players went off like a powder keg:

"Any one of these weapons beats our common gear at +5 enhancement — the stats are just plain unfair."

"They shouldn't call it purple legendary gear. They should call it purple whale gear."

"Get all three armor pieces and you're basically invincible — that's a hundred Defense total!"

"What's gear inscription for?"

"Lots of MMOs have that concept. I think it means you can carve words onto your gear."

"Then I'm covering mine in tally marks."

"Stop dreaming. Let's save up for a pigeon coop, throw a bed in it, and call it home."

"Uh, two square meters of private territory IS a little roomier than a pigeon coop."

"This is bleak. These goddamn devs have no humanity."

"They never said anything about a purchase limit, though. Sit back and enjoy the whale show!"

"You can pay with your LIFE and still put on a show!"

"Buying coppers! One hundred bucks a copper!"

The players hawked and hollered for a while, but once it became clear they simply couldn't source any coppers, they all scattered to go grind. A hundred beta players was, in the end, just too few people — the market they could support wasn't big enough for the whales to comfortably dump money into and enjoy themselves.

Sharlock was just about to head back and keep reading the forums — to see what people thought of the game design he'd dreamed up, or whether anyone had fresh suggestions for the game — when Bru spoke up:

"Lord Sharlock, another letter has arrived for you. From Frostlake City."

"Send it over." Sharlock was a little puzzled — who in Frostlake City would be writing to him?

A ball of red flame kindled in the dungeon core, spat out a letter, and delivered it neatly to Sharlock's front before vanishing once again.

Sharlock took the letter. On the envelope was a crest: a demon wielding a trident, a skull clutched in its hand.

Sharlock didn't recognize the mark, but he could tell it was probably the crest of some family or organization.

Sharlock tore the envelope open and found himself looking at very familiar handwriting.

"To the Master of the Eternal Kingdom Dungeon, the Demon Lord Sharlock, my lord:

So that the Dungeon Lords of the Northern Underworld within the service radius of Frostlake City might have a platform to mingle and learn from one another — putting you a step ahead of the pack, helping you build connections and seize every opportunity before anyone else —

it is our great honor to inform you that, on the recommendation of two Frostlake City member merchants of the Merchant Alliance, 【None Pricier】 and 【Only Pricier】, you have been awarded a ticket — Newcomer Division — to the Dungeon Lord Experience-Sharing Convention, hosted by the neutral city of Frostlake City.

The convention is scheduled for five days from now.

This convention will provide, including but not limited to: layout design, building construction, staffing and talent, contract law, caravans and trade routes, future planning, startup promotion, loans and collateral — full-spectrum, all-angles, one-stop service to power your dungeon's rapid growth.

All orders placed on-site will enjoy an instant 15% discount.

Guests will also enjoy complimentary fruit platters and a free dinner buffet throughout the venue. This letter of introduction further entitles you to complimentary beetle-beast parking. If you will be arriving in an extended-length beetle beast, please be sure to notify us in advance.

To prevent this banquet from becoming a battlefield among the assembled Dungeon Lords, each Dungeon Lord may bring no more than three servants. We beg your understanding.

Frostlake City looks forward to your arrival — Frostlake City"

Sharlock finished reading the letter, then turned the envelope over — there on the back was a single line of small print:

"Lord Sharlock, kindly bring the special-talent recruitment agency fee you have owed for the better part of a month: five magic stones. — Evelyn"