This Quest is Broken! (This Trilogy is Broken (A Comedy Litrpg Adventure) Book 1)

by J. P. Valentine

  Wes choked on his drink, his face taking on a brilliant shade of cherry red.

  Eve laughed. “And here I thought Her healing was invasive. They really didn’t design their rituals with male acolytes in mind, did they?”

  “No.” Preston vigorously shook his head as he lifted his flagon again. “No they did not.”

  “Well, hey,” Wes coughed as he changed the subject, “at least you got a milestone for all that, right?”

  “A milestone? Why would their pointless rituals be worth a milestone?”

  The bulky mage raised an eyebrow. “For getting ordained? Doesn’t your quest have to do with the order? I figured that was a requirement. Why else do you put up with them?”

  Preston snorted. “I put up with them because they give me food to eat and a place to stay. The ceremonies are awful, but I can walk into any cathedral in any city and find a hot meal and warm bed without spending a copper. I can survive a few creepy old women if it means I don’t have to worry about starving for the rest of my life. If nothing else, I’ve saved enough silver to afford to drink away the bad memories.”

  Eve let out a bright guffaw as she raised her glass. “I’ll toast to that.”

  They drank.

  Wes shifted in his seat. “So, if your quest isn’t about climbing the order’s ladder, what is it?”

  Preston swallowed. “That’s—uh—that’s a bit of a personal question, don’t you think?”

  The man shrugged. “You’re the one who just told us to imagine a bunch of old ladies wiping you with oils.”

  “Fair point.”

  Wes leaned in, resting his elbows on the wooden tabletop. It bent under his weight. “So what do you say? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “Actually”—the healer pulled away, resting his back against the wall—“I think I already know what yours is.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” Preston smirked. “Because it’s the same as every other farm boy with an Uncommon tier one that walks in here. Kill some big bad you’ve never heard of, save the day, and all that.”

  Wes’s face fell. “How in the hells—”

  “You see, the thing about the creepy old ladies is that they talk. They’ve all had their own adventures and by Ayla do they have stories to tell about it. Most of them are boring as sin, but a few are actually useful.”

  “Ooh,” Eve laughed. “The Priestess knows his shit.”

  “So I’m right?”

  “On all fronts,” Wes admitted. “It’s an Epic quest to slay the ‘Blightmaw Dragon.’”

  Preston grinned, downing the rest of his ale. “Anyway, you’re not the one I’m interested in.” He turned to Eve.

  “Me?”

  “You aren’t the stereotypical farm boy. I want to know what got a Courier to ‘whisper defiance at fate itself.’”

  Eve raised her eyebrows. “Same deal?”

  “Same deal.”

  “Alright.” Eve pulled closer to keep her voice down in the crowded tavern. “My quest is to head to the next town over and pick up a loaf of bread.”

  “Bullshit,” Preston swore. “That’s not a life quest; that’s barely even an afternoon’s work.”

  Eve turned up her palms.

  Preston pushed. “What’s your real quest?”

  “That is my real quest. Remember when you said the Stones had grown a sense of humor? I told you I knew what you meant, and this is why. I’ve got the most bullshit quest there’s ever been.”

  “So?” the healer asked. “Have you finished it, then?”

  “That’s the thing. I can’t. Every time I try, something goes just wrong enough that I can never get my hands on a loaf of bread. Bakeries burn down, bakers take a day off, Wes gets mauled by wolves and we don’t make it to town until everything’s closed for the night. Turns out Legendary quests are pretty hard.”

  Preston rubbed his chin. “That’s an interesting set of coinci—wait. Did you say Legendary?”

  “I did.”

  Preston froze. Instead of fawning over her for her greatness or further investigating the enigma that was her life quest, his face grew pale as he muttered to himself. “Ayla’s tits. You’re her.”

  Eve furrowed her brow. “I’m who?”

  The healer leapt to his feet. “I have to go.”

  Concern flooded Wes’s face. “Is everything okay?”

  Preston stepped away from the table. “Yeah—I just—I need to think.”

  Eve called after him as he made his way to the door. “What about our deal?”

  Her only answer came in the form of the guild hall door swinging shut as Preston vanished into dark streets beyond. “What’s his problem?”

  Wes exhaled. “Whatever it is, it’s his.”

  Eve stood. “I’m going after him.”

  The mage grabbed her arm, pulling her back to the table. “No you’re not. He said he needed to think, and you’re gonna give him time to do that. He’s drunk, you’re drunk, I’m drunk. Now’s not the time for serious conversations. Find him in the morning.”

  She sat back down, crossing her arms in frustration. “Ugh. He’s hiding something. He’d better not go back on his deal.”

  “You can worry about that if he does.”

  “Alright. Fine.” Eve drained her tankard before slamming the empty iron cup back onto the table. “But you’re buying the next round.”

  “Okay, but if you pass out I’m not carrying you upstairs.”

  “Oh, come on,” Eve laughed. “I’ve carried you enough times, maybe you should return the favor.”

  Wes shook his head with a quiet chuckle but didn’t protest as he pushed to his feet to buy a round of whiskeys. By the time the two companions finished the sharp drinks, they’d forgotten all about Preston and his untold secret.

  Eve returned to her room that night in high spirits, both because there was a smile on her face and because the quantity of spirits in her belly was rather high. She had, if only for now, replaced the chaos and instability of travel with the relative safety of life in the city.

  She knew eventually her team would out-level the easy jobs and move on to riskier fare, but that was a problem for another day. Indeed, as she drifted to sleep in her small but cozy room above the guild hall, all of her problems were problems for another day.

  * * *

  The rising sun had just begun to cast its brilliant rainbows through the glass walls of Lynthia when Eve stepped out into the empty streets. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she shut the door behind her. Taking a deep breath of the sharp morning air and the stench of city life that came with it, Eve set off for Ayla’s Cathedral.

  The Striker was loath to wake so early after a late night drinking in the common room, but she had a healer to speak with. She knew Preston slept at the cathedral, but gods knew how she’d find him if he awoke and left before she could get there. So she ran.

  Eve made it less than a block before she activated Charge! Everything was more fun at high speed, and the early hour left the city absent the normal hustle and bustle that might’ve prevented such an endeavor. She picked up speed.

  Houses and shops and the odd pedestrian flew past as Eve ran, turning down alleys and thoroughfares as she made her way. She may not have ever seen Ayla’s Cathedral, but that was no deterrence to an adventurer of her caliber. She’d given herself plenty of time to find it.

  She entered into a wealthier quarter of the city, where the homes stood three or four stories tall, each surrounded with a lush garden and a high wall for privacy’s sake. The avenue was wide and devoid of obstacles, allowing Eve more room to breathe. She ran faster.

  With every stride she seemed to float in the air for the magical seconds between her back foot leaving the hard stone and her front foot hitting it once more. There was a rhythm to it.

  Until, without warning, her foot failed to find the ground.

  She stopped short, hanging motionless in the air as her feet dangled beneath her. Eve’s
eyes shot open. Her heart raced. She fought to swing her head around, desperate to analyze her surroundings, but an invisible chain held it fixed in place. She gulped.

  A male voice rang out behind her. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

  A woman answered. “Another adventurer who thinks they’re above the law.”

  Eve tried to snap back with a witty retort, but her mouth refused to open. All she managed was an angry hum.

  The two figures casually strolled down the street and into Eve’s field of view, revealing their embroidered tabards. Eve cursed to herself, Shit. She recognized the eagle-head crest of Lynthia where she saw it.

  The man turned to stare at her, his eyes flashing the familiar blue. His thick handlebar mustache seemed to dance from side to side with every word. “Let’s see… Evelia Greene, level twenty-five Striker.” He shut the status screen. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

  Once again, Eve tried and failed to speak.

  The guard smiled. “I thought so.”

  Behind him, the woman scribbled information down in a large notebook. He gestured to her. “My colleague here is writing you an infraction for breaking the city speed limit. If you want to go above double-speed, you can do it outside of Lynthia.”

  Eve managed yet more angry hums but little more in the way of protest.

  Rolling his eyes, the guard pressed an enchantment on his vambrace and the restraints around Eve’s head went slack.

  “I didn’t know! I swear I just got here. Nobody said I couldn’t run full speed.”

  The woman snapped, “Ignorance is no excuse. I don’t care what your level is or who you work for; the law still applies to you. You’re not hot shit, you’re not some legendary hero, you’re a Common-er just like the rest of us, and you’ll follow the same rules as the rest of us.” She ripped off a sheet of parchment and handed it to her partner.

  Eve’s hands would’ve quivered in fear had they been able to move at all. “Wh-what’s gonna happen?”

  The man rolled his eyes again. “You’re not gonna cry your way out of this. You’ll pay a fine and if we catch you breaking the law again you’ll be exiled.”

  “How much?”

  “A hundred silver.”

  Eve had to stop herself from cursing aloud. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  The woman scoffed. “You adventurers are a resourceful bunch. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  Eve’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  The man glared. “You heard me. You have two weeks. If you don’t pay a hundred silver to the office of the magistrate by then, you’ll be hearing from us again.”

  “And you do not want that to happen,” his partner finished.

  “This is bullshit.”

  The man smiled, his mustache somehow staying perfectly horizontal as the corners of his mouth turned up above it. Eve was too distracted by her situation to contemplate the absurdity of the sight.

  “Bullshit or not,” he said, “it’s happening.”

  The guard gingerly placed the slip of parchment on the ground in front of her before giving Eve a smile. Together, the pair strode back the way they came, disappearing beyond Eve’s ability to crane her head and watch them go. By the time the enchantment wore off and she returned to the support of her own two feet, the guards were long gone.

  Heart still pounding as her mind raced through the news, Eve bent down to snatch up the ticket, finding the woman had drawn a crude outline of a middle finger along the back. Eve wondered if they did that for all their citations or just this one. Either way, she crumpled it in her hand as she turned to storm her way back to the guild and to Wes.

  Preston could wait. She knew exactly how she’d earn the silver for this stupid fine, even if it was an option she’d been actively avoiding all week. She could avoid it no longer.

  It was time to take a real job.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Real Job

  EVE PLACED A hand on the wooden desk, leaning over as she met the clerk’s gaze. “I need a threatening-tier job.”

  The high-level desk-worker didn’t even bat an eye. “Why?”

  Eve faltered. “Excuse me?”

  “Why?”

  She swallowed. “Because I’m level twenty-five and these standard jobs are only dropping crumbs.”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Last I remember, your teammates aren’t level twenty-five, and you’re a gods-damned Common-er.”

  “They’ll back me on this. Wes needs money, Alex needs to do something impressive before her upcoming promotion, and Preston will take any excuse he can to get away from the cathedral.”

  The clerk leaned back in her chair. “Are those supposed to be reasons I should give you a riskier job?”

  Eve shrugged. “Do you care if we live or die?”

  “That’s not a reason why I should.”

  “Alright, fine.” Eve exhaled. “I know these jobs are in low demand. Everyone willing to risk their life on a guild mission has already out-leveled this kind of shit. I don’t need to clear out the dead city of Elchnia, I just need something with a bit more risk to it and the pay to match.”

  “Okay.” The lady leaned in. “You’re right. I’ve got about a dozen high-paying jobs your team technically qualifies for that nobody wants. All rated as threatening. All too dangerous for the likes of you.”

  Gods damnit, Eve cursed to herself. I’m not a bloody Common-er! She knew she couldn’t actually say it. The clerk would only accuse her of lying, and the last thing she needed was to further antagonize the woman. Instead, she dropped any sharpness from her face, softening her gaze to wordlessly communicate her sense of desperation. “Please. I need this.”

  The clerk sighed, reaching into a drawer to withdraw a sheet of parchment. “The enchanter’s guild is offering five hundred silver to anyone who can clear out the Burendian ruins to the northeast. You’re welcome to any loot you find—they just want it safe enough they can study the enchantments on the place.”

  Eve scanned the paperwork, confirming the location and details of the commission. It was perfect. “Why this one?”

  “It’s the only one you have a chance of actually surviving. The difficulty’s based on an estimate instead of an actual Appraise of whichever big bad the buyer wants dead.”

  Eve gulped. “Great.” She snatched up the parchment. “I’ll take this to my team, thank you.”

  The clerk called out after her as she began to turn away. “Oh, by the way, I see you have a fine on record. I’ll go ahead and redirect a portion of your cut to pay it.”

  “You can do that?”

  The woman laughed. “Of course I can. Did you think you were the first adventurer to get slapped with a speeding ticket? We practically fund the city guards ourselves.”

  Eve paused. “Wait. If you knew why I needed the silver, why did you keep asking questions?”

  A thin smirk stretched across the clerk’s face. “Would you have thought I gave you the best job for your team if I didn’t make you work for it?”

  Eve rolled her eyes. “You’re a real pain, you know that, right?”

  “Just doing my job.”

  The Striker shook her head, muttering to herself as she walked away. “And being a real pain about it.” The parchment felt good in her hand, like a silver-backed bank note just waiting to be exchanged.

  She smiled once more as she set off to find Wes. They had a ruin to explore.

  * * *

  The late-summer sun was already high in the sky by the time the four adventurers met up outside the city gates. Shimmering rainbows danced along the dry grass as sunlight refracted through the magnificent walls of transparent glass. Eve paid them no heed. Her mind was elsewhere.

  Preston didn’t say a word as the party began their northbound trek. Though Eve took note of the bags under his eyes and the shadows upon them, she also knew that
clenched jaw and directed stare for what it was. Determination.

  She elected not to inquire after his strange behavior quite yet. He’d tell her about his quest when he was ready, and there would be plenty of time for that to happen. They had a long day’s journey ahead of them.

  Absent their talkative healer and given Alex’s usual disinterest in socialization, Eve and Wes spent the first hours of their trip chatting amongst themselves about this and that before running out of nothing to discuss and falling silent as well. The afternoon dragged on.

  It wasn’t until the four companions settled in for their first night on the road that Eve dared approach with an attempt at conversation.

  “Hey,” she hesitantly greeted, plopping down beside the quiet priest. “I bet you’re glad to get away from those priestesses.”

  Preston sat directly on the soft grass, hugging his knees to his chest as he watched Wes set up the campfire. “Yeah. I am.”

  “Look,” Eve cut to the chase. “If you don’t want to tell me your quest, that’s fine. Wes and I were worried about you when you ran off like that. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I need to know if we’re okay. If you’re okay.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze as he quietly nodded. “I’m alright. I just—you’re not the only one who got a cryptic quest description, and I think learning about yours may have given me a clue about mine.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Not until I know for sure.”

  “As long as your quest isn’t to shut down every bakery in Leshk, I think we’ll be fine.”

  Her joke managed to elicit a soft chuckle from the man. “No, it’s… not quite that strange.”

  Eve smiled. “Good. Then it doesn’t matter what it is, or if you don’t want to tell us; we’ll help you with it anyway.”

  Preston raised an eyebrow at her.

  “That’s what friends do, Preston. I can’t speak for Alex because she’s… well, Alex, but Wes and I are your friends, and we’re here for you.”

  In the twilight gloom, Eve couldn’t see the shift in the healer’s expression as he turned back to stare forward, but she took the wistfulness in his voice as a win. “Friends?” he asked.