Orconomics (The Dark Profit Saga, #1)

by J. Zachary Pike

“Ah, but he didn’t ask for it, see? ’Cause he was a true hero.” “Well, I’m a professional one. Just pay your bill, sir.”

“And then you come in, you ruin my farm, you take all the food in my stores and you tell me that’s the loot! You rob me, give me half my stuff back, and charge me for it!” “No, the Goblins in your basement robbed you,” corrected the warrior. “We took it from them. That’s what loot is.” “It came from my house!” “Where else do you think loot comes from?”

The hero raised his sword for the final blow. The Goblin fell backward onto a pile of mud and leaves—which immediately startled both combatants by sitting bolt upright and roaring like a demon.

“Fight, kill, loot, get credit. Repeat until you’re dead,” said the hero.

The fastest way to get points on a license was to kill things that the Heroes’ Guild had designated as foes, or more accurately F.O.E.s—Forces Of Evil.

would be an understatement to say that Goblins are family-oriented; they have breeding habits that would make a rabbit blush,

He was sick of drinking, and sick of being sober, and regretting that those were essentially the only two options he, and everyone else, ever had.

“Ye must be Angusss,” said Gorm, stamping up to the bar. “Anguss,” corrected the serpentine barkeep, polishing a glass. “The middle ‘s’ is silent.”

Every Dwarf in existence is male and, by all appearances, solitary, until he shows up with a tiny, bearded baby strapped to his back and flailing a toy hammer.

“And we have a choice?” “Oh, there’s always a choice. Choice is a constant.” Flinn grinned, a cold glint in his eye. “It’s consequences that vary.”

Everybody seemed to love buying up and bundling together the rights to shares of different hoards, creating a new financial product to invest in.

aware of the current … irregularities in professional heroics. But we’re confident the market will correct itself.”

In the Age of Darkness, when the truth was concealed by Mannon and many competing belief systems spread over Arth, most people thought that religious conflict would end if the world could be converted to one faith. Then Arth’s gods and goddesses revealed themselves once more and united the world in the worship of one consistent pantheon. Religious conflicts resumed the next day.

Like middle management everywhere, the gods seemed to be mostly concerned with petty conflicts and power struggles.

The brothers of the Order of Adchul once famously saved a town from flooding by drafting a cease-and-desist letter to the river.

“And what makes you think that I haven’t seen enough of the world?” Gorm looked up from the contract straight into the priest’s mismatched eyes. “Yer still tryin’ to save it.”

“Why would we possibly bring a Goblin along? It’s unhygienic.

added, strumming a chord and waggling his eyebrows. “You’d be surprised what women will do for a man with a lute.” “Now that’s unhygienic.”

And a bard who keeps talkin’ like he wants a punch in the face. No offense.” “None taken,” said Heraldin. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that.”

“Ye don’t remember a thing?” “I remember several things. Just not how they fit together. Or what goes in the middle.”

“You haven’t touched your breakfast,” Kaitha said. “I’m scared it’ll blow away if I disturb it,”

He was a firm believer that the best meals were made by holding dead things over a fire until they smelled good. As far as he was concerned, the tiny pile of twisted fruits and exotic extracts set before him was a blasphemy.

Kaitha was slumped over the table, looking smaller and sadder than an Elven breakfast.

“My Elven’s a little rusty. On account of me never learning it.”

“That is the song of the aithanalasi,” she said, waving the bread away. “That is why its voice is sacred. Wherever you go, go because you decided to. Never let anyone cage you. Find your freedom.”

Kaitha smiled. “I’m wondering where this is going.” “That’s the song of the Warbling Slateclaw. Wherever ye go, there ye are. Try to find the comfy chair.” Gorm leaned back in his seat and shook the half-eaten roll at the laughing Elf. “And see if ye can grab a free meal.”

“You speak Shadowtongue?” Kaitha asked. “Not a word,” said Gorm. “Then how do you know what he’s saying?” “Haven’t the foggiest.”

one thing,” King Handor said, leaning forward. “Stability. The people in the streets claim their freedom or their virtue binds our kingdom together, but in a famine you’re only free to starve, and in a drought there is no virtue but survival. No, liberty and piety are well and good, but a kingdom needs stability to survive; a healthy stalemate wherein every people, every faction, every city finds the status quo preferable to the price of change.”

And since there were so many magic-using foes out in the field, warrior heroes came in only two varieties: those who knew how to fight mages, and extra crispy.

That night, Heraldin Strummons, the Bard, went to the room of Kaitha of House Tyrieth, for he held a Great Fire in his pants. And he did profess his desire for her.

“I know your type. Ye’d kill your own mother for tuppence.” “Ah, you see, that’s where you’re wrong,” said Flinn. “I know the value of a life, usually within a few cents. When I killed my mother, it was for well over five thousand giltin.”

Not all who wander are lost; some are on quests.

Of course, every time had been the last time. Just like, some small part of her knew, the next time would be.

Jynn shrugged. “A giltin is just a symbol, a tiny unit of power. Currency is a system of control, and coins and bank notes are how it’s measured.”

Power eludes the masses, and so the masses are ruled by the few.”

He mentally added the captain to his List of People Who Had Made the Wrong List.

cramming multiple slurs into what was perhaps the most spectacularly ill-advised comment of his life.

Gorm grinned, or perhaps bared his teeth—even he didn’t know, truth be told. The only thing that was certain was that whenever he smiled that way, events tended to get interesting.

“Party’s not running any heavy duty,” said Gorm. “More of a skirmishing outfit.” “With two mages? Who takes the punishment?” “Well, hopefully the other guy,” joked Gorm. He and the clerk shared a good laugh.

“I’ve heard it said that gear does not make the hero.” “Aye, but gear does make the hero live longer,”

“So we started to head out, and the crazy blighter starts true forming!”

“That’s professional heroics,” said Gorm darkly. “Kill and loot until you’re killed and looted.”

“We’re keeping the world safe,” said Heraldin. “Are we now?” asked Jynn. “It seems to me the Dwarf had the right of it. In the end, this is all about gold.” “It’s about keeping citizens safe,” said Laruna. “Then why is the Myrewood infested? Why isn’t the Underdim cleared?” asked Jynn. “Why is nobody killing the impoverished monsters? Because it’s for the gold.”

“They can’t,” said Jynn. “Surely you’re familiar with our gross domestic product.” “Of course I am. Why do ye think I’m drinking imported?”

“You think it would be that bad?” said Laruna. “Is there a good way to be bankrupt?” said Jynn. “Morally,” suggested Heraldin.

I think we all know that loot isn’t what it used to be,” said Handor. Poldo stepped back. “And that’s precisely why I also plan to tax profits from the sale of looting rights.” The little color that remained in Goldson’s face drained away.

your armor looks bad. Messy.” “I tried havin’ Gleebek polish me gear.” “Really? It doesn’t look like … did he shine any of it?” “I ain’t sure. Depends on how far he got before he drank the armor polish.”

“But my illicit ways are over. I’ve given them up for clean and simple living.” “All I seen ye do is drink and chase tavern maids!” “Relatively clean and simple living,” Heraldin amended.

battlefield. The Lizardmen looked on in anxious confusion as the Stone Drake, initially confused by the assault with a long-range snack,

blow. I’d swear you were trying to dodge into your opponent’s strikes. And now you’ve lost a slap-fight to a training golem.”