A Black Market LitRPG

The wagon rumbled slightly as the wheels bumped against loose rocks on the dirt path, jostling its passengers as it went along a large semi-arid grassland, the climate slightly changing from what Kyle had been used to in Raktor. Much like the tailored tourist planets I used to relax on.

Kyle was sitting in a luxurious compartment with Makoa, leaning back on a plush comforter while he glanced at the window outside. The wagons were part of a convoy owned by Masir, who used it for the slave trade. The other wagons were filled to the brim with people kidnapped from different regions to be sold in the capital.

“It’ll take another four hours before we reach Tenar,” Makoa explained to Kyle. “The capital of Versia is less populated than Raktor or Tryas – most Versians live in outlying towns and cities.”

Makoa was timider than he used to be, seeing as he was theoretically now a slave under Kyle.

“I heard there was a war between Yual and Versia before.”

“Well, as expected of a stupid Yual do – I mean an upstanding citizen of Raktor, the educational syllabus must have probably wiped most mention of this war from the history books.”

“Go on.”

“Versia used to be a county like any other in the Yual Dominion – but we were previously conquered more than three hundred years ago. As such, the region had always been semi-autonomous. However, in the last three decades, the Yual Dominion has been attempting to force us into a mining-specific sector.”

Kyle looked out the window, noticing that there was much arable land. The grassland stretched out to the horizon, rolling hills of knee-high grass and clumps of weed growing tall. A few grain bins, silos and herds of cows and sheep could be seen grazing lazily in the distance. “I assume this did not go over very well.”

“Indeed. The Versian is traditionally a farming culture – having the majority of our population transition into mining was a short-sighted move. The ill-conceived plans of mining and the low ore yields also meant that both working conditions and job payout were terrible.”

“As such, the previous Count implemented a mandatory policy for each household to send two males to work in the mines in order to meet the quota set forth.”

“And the rebellion happened.”

“Well, there were a lot of other factors as well, but that’s the rough gist of it.”

Both Kyle and Makoa rested for the rest of the trip, Kyle planning his next move. He knew that the deal he had with the minister was merely a verbal promise – he could very easily be arrested or captured by those who knew what he was here for.

It was apparent to him that the local economy would not be happy to hear a foreign weapon designer coming in to set up shop. Kyle decided to stay vigilant for any plots or any signs that he was being followed. I’ll need to observe more of the city first.

This was the major reason why he subjugated Masir’s gang. They had connections within the capital that would make it easier for him to collect information and understand the underlying tensions within the city as well as enter the black market. Furthermore, as a crime lord, why should he physically do everything himself?

With Masir, Makoa and Kola at his beck and call, all he had to do was to sit back and observe, not requiring him to stick his neck out. However, it might be good to establish a name for myself by taking down a few notorious people in the capital.

The wagon convoy soon entered the outskirts of the capital, which stood as a walled city that stuck out like a sore thumb over the expansive farms that surrounded it. The convoy entered a small size town that was a pitstop for many other travellers.

Sharp rapping on the side of the wagon prompted Kyle and Makoa to step out, their faces hooded under the bright daylight. Masir was going down the entire line of convoys, rapping each one before coming back to Kyle.

“We’re going to have to wait here until night – it’s a bit hard with the goods.”

“I understand. Makoa and I will head in by foot first.”

“Right. If you want to meet up, head over to the relic market on Asha Street. Second shophouse from the main road, third floor. Big arctech sign, can’t go wrong.” Masir explained with a straight face.

“Okay. Kola, you will be coming with us then.”

“Huh?!” Kola was shocked, with Masir also taken aback.

Kyle glared at them, causing Masir and Kola to agree immediately, not wanting to antagonise him. The bloodbath yesterday was still fresh in their mind.

The road to the capital was filled with travellers, merchants and other tourists trying to get in. A snaking queue led out of an immigration building which served as the city’s border.

“Kris Greyborn with two escorts.”

“Kris Greyborn… right. You’re on the list. Welcome to Tenar; your stay is valid for two months. Please don’t overstay your welcome.” The enforcer had a clear dislike of people from the Yual Dominion.

So he was not lying when he actually had a ticket in. Makoa was surprised. The other two cleared the entry check having been already registered as citizens of Versia.

The exit of the immigration centre led to a wide paved path that had decorations hung on the arctech lampposts along the side. Kyle craned his neck to look at the four large statues of honour guards holding stone spears that towered over him, lined up in formation.

As they walked further down, they came to a fountain with a half-broken statue soiled with red paint and graffiti – [Death to the Count!]. Quite a few Versia tourists who were on their first trip to the capital were staring in awe, with even a school group being guided by three teachers. Kyle was surprised to see a few lightcapturers already in use by a few entrepreneurs.

“Capture this moment, right here right now! All for the low price of fifty Versian coins!”

“See here, kids, a relic from a time when the nobility still oppressed us! Versia is a country in which every man has a say, regardless of birth!”

“Wow, look, it’s a graffiti by President Johan – [Death to the Count!]”

Kyle stopped to take a look. “I don’t suppose the Count survived the rebellion.”

“First to be executed publicly. His wife gave him up for safe passage to the Yual dominion.”

They continued to enter the city, passing by its grand walls. Kyle noted a few unusual engravings on the wall, though both Makoa and Kola were not experts on it. The guards glared at the three of them as they passed by, with Kyle also spotting plenty of cannons installed along the rim of the walls.

The city’s main streets were filled with arctech wagons, which seemed a lot more prevalent than in Raktor, where only the middle class and above could afford them. The wagons were filled to the brim, with people hanging out from the sides while clutching onto their hats.

Dozens were out on the street, with the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the streets. The pavement was surprisingly clean, unlike the dirty grime-filled sidewalks of Raktor. Kyle somehow got a feeling that Tenar had a much higher living standard than that of Raktor.

He did not spot any slum dwellers as he did in Ocra, with the alleyways completely cleaned out. The jarring mismatch of the era and the city type felt a bit suspicious to him. There were even public water fountains for passersby to drink or refill their metal canisters.

Hardly any stains on the building walls or windows could be seen either. “Is there a foreign dignitary coming? Or is there a celebrity coming to the capital soon?”

“Huh? No. It always has been like that.” Kola shrugged. “Anyway, Asha Street is this way.”

The relic market – should be better. Kyle followed along, navigating through the crowded streets. People clamoured outside of popular cake shops and temporary stall carts that served waffles, the sweet scent filling the air. The laughter of well-fed children echoed off the walls.

They walked past a long queue of people who were waiting outside what seemed to be a free soup kitchen. Welfare benefits – I’m surprised a country at this age would support universal social security. Generally, he would have expected a city to turn out exactly like Raktor, with the industrialist and landowners at the very top.

Asha Street was brimming with activity – merchants propped up wooden tables covered with a brilliant cloth, displaying arctech equipment that was specially designed. Kyle could see a clear difference in the type of crowd that was here under the colourful fabrics hung across the buildings that blocked the harsh daylight compared to the outside.

Adventurers, explorers and mercenaries were all browsing weapons, armour and equipment out in the open, thanks to Versia not having a ban on it. Even arctech guns and handguns were sold out in the open, with Kyle already spotting a few replicas of his handgun.

“Selling weapons like this in the open is legal? I’m surprised the government is this open.” Kyle asked Makoa.

“It is. The state was born out of a revolution – of course, every citizen has the right to bear arms. There is compulsory conscription as well.”

“Compulsory?”

“Indeed. Versia is a small state who broke away from the Yual Dominion. We need every man and female to defend our way of life here. Conscription is three years, followed by reservist of ten years.”

That’s one way to increase your military force to the same level as a bigger player… Conscription was not foreign to Kyle – he had used prisoners for wars conducted in the Galactic Era.

However, Kyle was not happy with the idea that the arctech guns were legal. Being legal means I have less of a chance to establish a monopoly and also limit my options on setting any price I want…

Kyle was a proponent of strong criminalisation: it was what made the margins of his product sell so high. The more prohibition – the better. Less competition, less willingness to play the market, and allowing him to dominate easily through more violent means. The weapons deal is looking less profitable.

He already had plans in place to flood the market with high-tech weapons to dominate the black market, but it seemed that it would only work in Raktor.

The three of them proceeded up to the shophouse mentioned, where the sharp clanging of metal and grunts of mechanics filled the sweltering workshop that made up the first floor. No one paid any attention to them, focusing on crafting as they walked past them up the stairs.

Kola led them down the hallway of the third floor, where there were a few rooms side by side. Kyle suddenly stopped, preventing Makoa from leaving the stairwell. “Kola, you can drop the act now. Just bring out everyone you got.”

Kola froze in place, turning around slowly. “Sir Greyborn, I don’t know what you-“

“Shut it. I can hear them squirming in the walls. Let’s not waste time.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kola exclaimed. “Who’s here? No one is supposed to be in any of these rooms!”

The clear confused expression on Kola’s face was evident and looked real enough, making Kyle even doubt himself. Now that I think about it – Masir wouldn’t have the chance to send a message in advance to anyone here, and he wouldn’t dare risk retribution. Kyle thumbed the master engraving plate in his pocket, glancing around the hallway.

Then there are only two possibilities: a group hired by my enemies in Raktor, or a group who is aware of my meeting with the Minister.

“Fine. If they won’t come out, I’ll make them.” Penchant for Violence!

Kyle sprinted through the hallway, stopping at the first door on the left and kicking it right at the hinge, causing it to fall back. The wooden door splintered as it smashed against the full lean metal armour of a knight who staggered backwards.

The sudden appearance of the knight stunned Makoa and Kola. As soon as Kyle exposed the knight, five more knights burst out from the rooms, with a sword immediately piercing Kola through the heart from the back, his still surprised face locked in shock. Makoa immediately darted down the stairwell, unwilling to save Kyle.

“Target confirmed: Kris Greyborn. Get him!”