by J D Astra
I panted hard to recuperate a few points of Stamina, swinging my staff like a walking stick to support my weary legs. The [Obsidian War Staff] had been great support, not to mention an awesome addition to my stats. +8 to Intelligence, +3 to Vitality, and +2% to parry. But it was still heavy, and my inventory was pretty loaded with junk, hopefully enough stuff to sell to pay for Otto’s company.
He’d told me to keep up a few times, then when he realized I couldn’t, offered to carry me on his back. I nearly shot him the bird for that one. He had laughed, not a joyful or belittling thing, but sort of embarrassed, when he realized I was truly incapable of keeping up with him.
It’d made me even more furious, but also more aware of what the game told me about myself. I would feel bad when I overestimated someone’s abilities and they fell short... so did Otto. Very interesting.
I pulled over at a downed tree for a quick break. The townspeople of Havasil were nice enough to give us a few torches and a better suited [Robe of Concentration] for me, but it still wasn’t enough to make the trek easier.
“We can’t camp here, I don’t have the proper equipment,” Otto said matter-of-factly.
I puffed, “I don’t want to camp,” and inhaled deeply. “I just need a quick break.”
He took a seat on the log as far from me as possible. Did I really do that IRL? How awkward.
“What brought you up to Havasil?” I asked, seeing if the Overminds had provided him with an actual decent reason for being there.
“I needed work,” he said stoically.
“You’ll walk hours for a job that pays in dirt and fish bones?”
“It’d be faster if you didn’t go so slow,” he snapped back, then softened, “and they paid me more than that.”
“Yeah?” I asked with skepticism.
He nodded. “Yes. They gave me other valuable things.”
I chuckled, my pulse finally slowing. “Like what?”
Otto crossed his arms. His emotions were so terribly obvious to me. He didn’t want to answer—he was being totally avoidant because he was ashamed.
“Sorry, didn’t know it was a touchy subject.” I shrugged, and he shook his head.
“It’s fine. They gave me pearls. There’s a special freshwater pearl that comes from the oysters in their lake. They’re not worth much, but... never mind.” He trailed off, and if I knew anything about myself, this wasn’t a time to push it. It was time to let it go. So I did, stood, and offered him my hand. He rolled his eyes, then smirked and stood to walk beside me as we went on.
The forest path curved to the left, and I experienced deja vu. There was a walking path near Osmark Tech that curved just like this, the trees the same color and type, but the IRL path had lamps. It was so dark, I could hardly make it out.
That trail would be gone soon. Astraea would wipe it off the face of the earth through fire and force. The blast would rip a hole in the Earth’s atmosphere, allowing trillions of radiation particles under our protective shield. Then it would burn up the atmosphere, flash heating the airspace for six thousand square miles in seconds.
The scientists predicted a water landing, but that didn’t help anything. The impact would create a tidal wave to cast a shadow on any tsunami, then boil the oceans, killing 99% of all life. The steam would explode out and create an ice belt around the planet that would get sucked back into Earth’s orbit. The atmosphere would become unbreathable from the toxic ash, gas, and humidity. Everything on the surface, no matter its location, would die in agony.
“How much farther?” I asked as I rubbed my shoulder, trying to pull myself from morbid thoughts.
Otto glanced about the dark trees, then looked up at the sky. “Not far at all.”
The road curved back right, and a wooden gate came into view. There were four torches lining the basic oak-and-bronze opening and two guards. Suddenly, I was nervous. I didn’t have any identification, no one knew me. I was nothing. Would they stop us and make us pay some kind of fee?
As we got closer to the gate, I saw the guards’ postures move from alert to tense.
“Otto,” the woman on the right said, part greeting, part warning. “What are you doing back here?”
“The people of Havasil are safe, for now. I was accompanying Miss... Miss...”
“Abby Hollander,” I interjected. I was not good at asserting myself in conversations, but Otto needed some help. “I’m here to meet with the town sorcerer.” The guards didn’t look convinced. “He sent for me,” I added, feeling their eyes scraping over me in judgement.
“I assume you mean Naitee Mungal. She doesn’t take visitors late at night, nor does she usually send for a, uh”—the man on the left waved his hand through the air—“someone like you.”
Heat rose into my cheeks, and I raised my finger to point, but Otto grabbed my hand and put it down. I sucked my lower lip in and bit down as I gave him a sidelong glare.
“Look.” Otto stepped up and put his arm around the man. They talked in low voices, but I could still hear them. “She’s a paying customer, I’m trying to finish my job. Let us in, yeah?” I heard the tinkling of coins and knew that Otto was bribing the man. It seemed a bit unlike him, well me, but I guess in his situation, I might do the same. We weren’t doing anything wrong, after all.
“Yeah, okay.” The man banged on the door. “Open up, Levari.”
There was a creaking and a bang, then the large wooden door swung open. I’d heard a bit of bustling from the other side of the gate, but when the city was revealed to us, it was obvious the whole place was still up.
The inhabitants were walking about, drinking, cheering, strumming musical instruments, playing cards, and dancing. Perhaps the working people who cared about the next day had gone to bed, but everyone else was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Hopefully, my trainer would be too.
I sighed as I took in the whole city in its glory. The main thoroughfare was lined with lit oil lamps, giving the buildings a warm glow. Most of the structures were made of wood and not more than two stories tall, but the deeper into town the road went, the taller, more robust, and well-crafted they became. Near the center of town I could see a pair of white stone turrets flanking a modest castle poking up over the roofs of the houses and businesses.
This was what years of hundreds of devs had created. Not just this, but dozens of cities just like it, and a handful that were even greater still. This was what endless hours of typing away had earned us: a digital world near indistinguishable from IRL. It was a testament to human tenacity and sheer will.
Otto cleared his throat, and I snapped my awe-opened mouth shut, returning to the moment. I gave a curt nod to the guard who accepted the bribe and took a step through the open door.
“Otto,” the woman said, stepping into my path, “no kickin’ the beehive this time, right? Your past has a nasty way of messing with our futures.”
Wow, the Overminds put a lot more care into the crafting of the player’s companion than I imagined. He seemed to have some rich history I’d have to prod him over.
Otto gave a grunt, and the woman returned to her post.
He nudged me as he passed. “C’mon, I know a good, quiet inn.” The male guard gave a chuckle at Otto’s emphasis of the word quiet, and the woman rolled her eyes.
Apparently, a lot of history.
The door swung shut behind us, and Otto nodded to the person I assumed was Levari, who gave us an exasperated look. Gate duty must be thrilling. My feet ached from the level 1 cloth shoes practically worn through from our trek, and I thought about all of the things I still had to accomplish in such a small window of time: get my class, collect the scroll in seven hours, figure out what it did, then... start a resistance.
No matter what was on the other end of the scroll, it was going to be a huge buff to the people getting them. Osmark wouldn’t handcraft simple scrolls for people to hide out on “private islands” for billions of IRL donations. No, there was going to be something epic to do with those se
cret areas.
With the weight of the tasks ahead of me, I asked the next pertinent question, “All right, where’s this Sorceress?”
Otto raised a brow. “Do you know what time it is?”
I opened my in-game menu and checked. “11:17 PM.”
He rolled his eyes. “It was rhetorical. She’s asleep.”
“This is important.” I stopped, putting my foot down. I was tired of getting pushed around by code I’d helped write.
He turned with arms crossed. “I’m not getting my backside singed for you. I’m going to the inn, getting a hot, roasted chicken, and a good rest.”
My stomach growled at the mention of food, and I checked my character screen again. 11:17 PM was a bit late, and I had some lovely debuffs:
<<<>>>
Current Debuffs
Tired (Level 2): Skills improve 10% slower; Carry Capacity -15lbs; Attack Damage -5%; Spell Strength reduced by 15%.
Thirsty (Level 3): Health, Stamina, and Spirit regeneration reduced by 35%.
Hungry (Level 3): Carry Capacity -50lbs; Health and Stamina regeneration reduced by 30%; Stealth 25% more difficult.
Unwashed (Level 2): Goods and services cost 10% more; Merchant-craft skills reduced by (2) level(s).
<<<>>>
Great. No wonder I felt so heavy.
I was getting sick of this Risi being right. I pursed my lips but nodded my head in agreement.
We followed the main road for a while, then turned off down an alley before reaching the white stone castle. We snaked around through dirt passages, the liveliness growing more and more intense as we went. Loud music, drunken ballads sung to barmaids, brawls over games of dice and cards, and some very inappropriate conduct in some of the darker corners.
I pulled up beside Otto. “I thought we were going somewhere quiet?”
“We are.” He stopped at the door to the Boar’s Head and gestured for me to enter.
The wooden door was engraved with fire, then painted in brilliant color with a severed pig’s head and three figures gathered around it with full tankards. The sign above swung back and forth with a mild creaking, and white smoke curled its way from the brick chimney.
I looked over my shoulder at a disorderly man leaning against a wall, relieving himself, then back to Otto.
“Seriously?” My whisper dripped repugnance.
He shook his head and pushed past me through the door. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, didn’t have any money, didn’t have anywhere to sell my goods, and needed to stick with my NPC, so... to hell with it.
I shoved my way in after him, and when the door swung shut, the rabble of the streets outside was dampened to a mere burbling. The floor and walls of the Boar’s Head were solid oak. The scent of smoked meat and sweet honey permeated the room. Saliva pooled on the sides of my tongue at the thought of what those smells emanated from.
I swallowed hard, trying not to think about food. I had no money, and no valuable gems to trade with. I was hoping I could at least sleep on the floor in Otto’s room, but even then they might try to charge me.
“Ah, Otto! Take your seat, friend!” the man at the bar yelled with a grin.
Otto seemed well known across Harrowick, or maybe he just took me places where he knew people. That seemed more like something I would do.
My NPC walked across the room with a destination in mind. There was no one else in the tavern, but Otto knew where his seat was. I had a place I’d always sit at Osmark Tech for lunch, too.
Otto slid into a booth with a privacy cloth drawn back, and I took the seat across from him. It was cramped. Quite a bit more cramped than I was expecting. Due to his size, Otto had to push the table closer to my side, leaving a small space for me to fit in.
He stared at the table in silence for a while, then finally looked up at me. He opened his mouth when the barmaid appeared beside us.
“Whatsit this time? Usual?” Her long blond hair was in a braid off to the side, and her hands were placed at her hips. The apron she wore was cut down much too far to be useful in protecting her from hot food splatters, but was likely very useful in getting her good tips. I remembered going to Hooters once and seeing a getup just like that.
Otto nodded. “Yes, two usuals.”
The barmaid nodded and was gone just as fast.
“Otto, wait. I don’t have any money. Call her back!”
He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You walked far and fought hard. You need to eat.” His brow scrunched. “And you already owe me, so it’s not much more for a chicken and a bed.”
Ah great, so it was going on my tab. My stomach gave a rumble to rival a kraken, and Otto’s face broke with a smirk. I hated him being right all the time.
We waited in silence for a few minutes, which was nice. I was relieved to find that Otto didn’t try to make small talk. If he had something to say, he’d say it, but he didn’t just speak to speak. An excellent quality in a longtime companion.
The barmaid came bustling up, bearing two heaping plates of chicken and potatoes and two mugs full to the brim with the sweet honey smell I’d detected when coming in. My mouth watered at the sight of the crispy spud ends, which looked like they’d been fried in a pot of animal fat, and the browned rotisserie chicken skin.
Chicken was an overstatement. These were more like Cornish game hens. Nonetheless, it was about to be destroyed.
“Anything else?” the middle-aged woman asked, her hand obviously poised for a tip.
Otto shook his head and dropped five silver coins into her palm. She looked down at them for a good three seconds, back up at Otto, then to me. I grimaced and shrugged. The barmaid rolled her eyes and stomped away.
My dry throat called to the mead, so I pulled the mug up to my face for a huge swig. Oh, em, gee, it was amazing. The bubbles hit my tongue first, pushing the sweet notes of honey around my mouth in a wave. Then the tart hit me, packing a punch of alcohol at the end.
I gasped for air, and Otto chuckled. He raised his cup, smacked it into mine, and then downed the liquid in two quick gulps. I pulled my wooden mug up to my mouth and gulped back the last of it, then slammed it down on the table.
That earned me a laugh before Otto turned his attention to the chicken. My gaze dropped to my own, and the hunger overcame manners. I grabbed a potato with my bare fingers, stuffing the salt-crusted carb in my wide-open mouth.
Even better. So much better than IRL potatoes. How was the food in V.G.O. so good? If I wasn’t careful, all those Hell Year pounds would find me down in the game.
I ripped a leg free of the hen and stuffed it in my mouth. The meat was just as smoky as I’d imagined, with a slight vinegar bite and a salty rosemary finish. Forget fighting Osmark and figuring out what was on that scroll, I just wanted to stay here and eat!
My palm burned as I grabbed another fistful of V.G.O. fries and stuffed them into my mouth, hooing and haaing to let some of the heat out. I looked up, trying not to let the searing oil burn my tongue, and caught Otto’s eye. He seemed to be both amused and surprised.
“Whu? Haen’t you see’ ah hungee perhun behor?” The blazing-hot potatoes hurt my tongue and cheeks, but I didn’t care, it tasted so good.
“I have.” He picked up a two-pronged utensil and poked it into the chicken.
Oh, mister perfect. Doesn’t get tired walking, ever, beats up tons of goblins with one totally useless arm, doesn’t eat chicken with his hands, he uses a fork. I didn’t have the bandwidth for manners, so I rolled my eyes and went back in on the chicken with my hands.
When I’d picked the bones clean and practically licked the salt off the plate, Otto ordered one more chicken for us to share. This one, he grabbed with his hands, which honestly looked a lot more natural than what he’d been doing with the fork and knife. He’d learned really quick I wasn’t the kind of girl that needed a show. I needed reliability, I needed honesty, and I needed loyalty. Pretty simple gal.
I leaned back when my belly was full and gave a
huge yawn. I checked my character screen one more time. Up to a level 4 Tired, but Hungry and Thirsty were gone. Oh... and unwashed had escalated to level 3. Guess I was a little messy.
Otto stood from the bench and tossed me something small. I fumbled and finally held it tight, my Dexterity seeming to take a hit from the alcohol. I held the object up—a key—then looked to Otto.
“I snore, you’ll need your own room.”
“More like your own city!” the barmaid chimed in with a grin.
I nodded sleepily. “Thanks, I appreciate this.”
“Yeah, I appreciate the fifteen percent interest you’ll be paying me.”
That snapped me back to consciousness. “I never agreed to any terms!”
He laughed. “Hiring me is accepting my terms.”
I squinted my eyes, said nothing, and turned up the stairs for my room. Damn him and his tricks. I suppose I could afford 15%, though, if it meant keeping him around. He was proving useful and intuitive.
The room was modest, but comfortable. It was about the size of a linen closet, with a basin of water on the chest at the foot of the bed. Excellent, there was nowhere to refill the water basin that I could see, so I would have to bathe in my own filth, with a washrag...
But not tonight. I groaned, flopping onto the bed. My feet burned, my back ached, and my muscles thudded from exhaustion. I wanted to stay up and review the forums, see what people were figuring out, but it could wait.
I opened my character sheet and checked the time once more. 12:23 AM. The scroll would be delivered in five hours, forty-two minutes. I set an alarm. I’d wake up just moments before its arrival. With the hard day behind me and a harder one ahead, I closed my eyes and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
Scroll of Allegiance
NOISE, AS SHARP AS a knife, jabbed in my ear with a constant Errh errh errh! I careened out of bed, landing hard on the wood floor. My knees and palms stung, but not nearly as badly as the pain in my head from that stupid sound! I reached up to the nightstand, searching for the alarm clock with furious desperation as the Errh errh errh continued, as loud as a train horn. My hand knocked off candles, paper, and unidentifiable metal objects, until the surface was bare. There was nothing.