by A. M. Sohma
“Just about,” Vic said. She was still sitting on the ground, recovering her mana.
Prowl meandered through the singed and blood-spattered battlefield, reclaiming a few of his unused traps. Axel, Cookie, and Gil joined Vic on the ground as Riko approached Kit.
The druid held her hand out in front of her. “Nature’s Blessing.”
A leafy green light enveloped Kit, and the fragrant scent of flowers tickled her nose as the skill gradually restored her health points at a slow crawl and gave her a light blessing that upped her stats.
“Thank you,” Kit said.
“My pleasure. I only wish I had more healing skills.”
“Druid is a mage class, isn’t it? I was always under the impression that they only had a few self-healing skills.”
Riko shifted her elaborately carved wooden staff from one hand to the other. “That used to be so, but with the smaller parties now, most druids end up using healing skills more, which gives them more of a combination build. There’s been a real lack of support characters in-game for a while now, so most everyone ends up going hybrid.”
Kit shook her head and looked from the rolling plains to the mountains that bloomed directly in front of her. “The landscapes may be the same, but in many ways, Chronicles of Retha is not the game I played.”
“Sure it is,” Riko said confidently. “You forget, this is my secondary character. My main character is a buccaneer—and she is damage all the way, sweetheart!”
Kit grinned as the spell surged again, bringing another trickle of health back into her bar. “Sounds fun.” She hesitated, then added, “Are you certain you and Prowl don’t want to lead the party?”
Riko scratched her nose. “Yeah, totally. Why do you keep asking?”
“Because I’m out of my depth here,” Kit said.
“I think you’re doing great. You just have to get used to bossing us around more. That’s the point of being the party leader, you know; you have to be the responsible one who tells everybody what to do. Didn’t you have to do that a lot with Milk Crown?”
Kit shook her head. “Never. An echo of arcane is not a class that is conducive to leading people. Neither is a dancer, come to think of it. Anyway, I think I was party leader only a dozen times or so with Milk Crown, and usually it was when we were killing creatures in search of specific items—not leveling, raiding, or entering a PVP battle.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Riko said confidently. “You’re still the most senior, and you do know what to do even if you are a little skittish about telling us. You just need practice at giving orders.”
“You have far too much confidence in me.”
“I’m ready,” Vic called as she stood up.
Kit glanced at her own health bar and was pleased to see the last surge of Riko’s heal had completely restored her. “Excellent. Let’s go find the horses.” As the wolves had attacked them rather suddenly, the horses had shied and ran off.
“Can’t we just call them?” Vic asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Riko said.
“But Prowl just did that,” Vic said, pointing to the gray mare Prowl had summoned with the whistle and was already mounting.
“That’s because he and I both have maxed affection levels with our horses.” Riko whistled, summoning her horse. “It’s pretty much a given that by our level you would have max affection, but with Prowl’s scary mug it was quite the uphill battle to get his horse not to shy away from him.”
Prowl scowled down at Riko from the back of his horse. “Excuse me?”
Vic blinked. “What.”
“You have to build a relationship with your pets and mounts,” Cookie said. “Once they trust you more, they’ll come whenever they’re called, right?”
“Yes,” Kit said. “Once your horse or pet trusts you enough, they’ll be willing to do a lot more for you—including returning after running away. Until then, I’m afraid we’re stuck going after them on foot. Or we’ll have to wait a few hours until they’re reset, and then we can automatically summon them again, but I don’t feel like waiting that long. So...did anyone see what direction they all ran off in?”
Gil rested the edge of his shield on the ground. “I believe I saw them run for the mountains.”
“Alrighty then. Let’s head out.” Kit started trudging in the direction of the mountains, and, using her superior elf eyesight, started scanning the land, searching for the wayward mounts.
“I swear, everything in this game is all about leveling.” Vic rolled up the sleeves of her robe and started trudging after Kit. “You have to level your main class, your crafting skill class, your reputation with all the various factions, your stinking pets! Whoever designed this game is absolutely obsessed.”
“That’s the point—to improve and become stronger.” Axel grinned savagely. “Or is that too difficult for a pristine magic user like yourself?”
Vic did not rise to the bait. “Isn’t that exactly like real life though?”
“Perhaps,” Gil said. “However, a videogame is more enjoyable, probably because it is so much easier to level, and if you face any difficulties, it can usually be solved by leveling a bit more. In life, there are some obstacles you cannot overcome no matter how you improve.”
“Congratulations.” Prowl leaned back in the saddle. “You have managed to simultaneously cause discouragement for real life and psychologically ruin games.”
“At least the horses are going in the direction we wanted to head in,” Cookie said.
“They may have even run into the White Needles zone.” Riko shielded her eyes as her horse—a pretty palomino with gold fur and white mane and tail—tossed its head. “It’s probably about a five-minute walk from here.”
For days, the mountains had loomed on the horizon, but now they were so close, Kit had to lean back and look up to see their peaks.
“Does anyone happen to have a tracking skill?” Kit asked. “I don’t see them up ahead, which means Riko is right, and they moved into the mountains. Once in the White Needles Mountains, I won’t be able to see as far ahead, so tracking is our best bet.”
“Yeah, I can do it,” Prowl said. “We just need to find a clear hoof print.”
Unfortunately, they didn’t find a hoof print until they reached the very fringe of the plains where the wide road they had been traveling on shrunk to a well-maintained—but much smaller—path.
Kit warily turned in a circle, gazing up at the impressive mountains.
“Are you worried about the monsters?” Gil asked. “Riko said they will be higher leveled now.”
“I don’t think they’ll be too much of a problem,” Kit said. “What bothers me is that we’re heading into dwarf territory.”
“So?” Vic asked.
“Have you ever even cracked a fantasy book open? Elves and dwarves don’t get along,” Axel said. “And based on the way the Imperials were willing to shoot her on sight, I’d reckon it’s pretty safe to say the dwarves won’t have much fuzzier feelings for her.”
“Thank you, Axel, for that encouraging moment,” Kit said.
Prowl, who crouched over a track as he activated his skill, stood and brushed his hands off. “It looks like the horses continued down the main road.”
“All of them?” Cookie asked.
Prowl nodded.
“Great,” Kit said. “They can’t be too far. When horses shy, they flee enemies, but they don’t altogether abandon you.”
“Better than I can say for most of my ex-boyfriends,” Riko laughed.
“It’s because of your personality that they do that,” Prowl said.
Riko looked murderous and held her staff aloft. When her hands started to glow mint green, Cookie shouted, “Please don’t hurt him, Riko! If you kill him, we won’t be able to find our horses.”
Riko paused, considering Cookie’s plea.
Prowl mounted again and nudged his horse. He had the good judgment to zip out of the way lest Riko change her mind. “This way.�
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The path started as barely more than a slight incline, but it meandered a lot—zigzagging around the mountains so only pieces of the road were visible at a time.
The horses—or most of them—were milling around the first bend in the road. When the party approached, the mounts nickered and sidled up to their owners.
Vic’s horse affectionately nuzzled her and chewed on a lock of her black hair. (Although the wizard complained about all the leveling mechanics in the game, Kit had not missed the fact that Vic poured out affection on her horse more than any other person in the party.) Gil’s, Axel’s, and Cookie’s horses stood patiently, letting their owners mount up.
The only animal missing was Kit’s mount.
“Where’s Chester?” Vic asked after she settled onto her horse’s back.
Kit propped her hands on her hips and looked up and down the road. “I don’t see him.”
“Give me a second.” Prowl slid off his horse’s back and poked around the road until he found a smaller hoof print. “Looks like he kept moving. That way.” The saboteur pointed to a flattened bit of ground that wiggled between two cliff-like ledges.
Herbs grew on the cliff sides, and a few bushes dotted the ground. “Yeah, this would appeal to Chester.” Kit sighed, then left the path and started blazing her own trail. The rest of the party—still mounted on their horses—followed behind her.
Kit had to go deeper than expected, but it wasn’t long before she saw Chester’s plump pony butt.
Cookie, Vic, Axel, and Gil had all received normal horses from the mount medallions Kit had given them. But, because Kit seemed to have the worst luck ever, she happened to have gotten a pony mount medallion so, instead of a normal-sized horse, Kit’s pony—Chester—was far smaller, rounder, and sprouted hair as if he was concerned an ice age would soon strike Retha. He was cute, with black socks, a white mane and tail, and black spots dotting his white hide. But as a pony, he was incredibly food motivated—which occasionally made him resort to naughtiness.
“Chester,” Kit called.
The pony looked up, still chewing on a patch of grass he had ripped out of the ground so ruthlessly its roots and clods of dirt hung from it. He swished his white tail, then returned to eating.
Vic gave an uncharacteristic sigh. “He’s so adorable.”
Kit pushed her way between two bushes. “He’s so fat. I don’t understand why he acts like I starve him.”
Chester started eating faster, and Kit was almost concerned he would choke himself when she reclaimed his reins and pulled his head up. When he finished chewing his grass, he nickered cutely and nudged her with his dimpled nose.
Even Kit was unable to resist his sweet brown eyes, so she patted his neck before she swung up on his back. As a tall elf, she looked absolutely ridiculous riding the short-legged pony. But while Vic would have happily traded for the pony, there was no swapping as the horses were bound the moment they were summoned.
“We should be able to start making better time now,” Kit said as she turned Chester around. “Although everything will be higher leveled here, if we stick to the path, there will naturally be fewer monsters.”
“That would be yer mistake.” Two parties of dwarves were crouched on either cliff side. Many of them hefted warhammers and axes, but the majority of them had bows with arrows nocked in place. Their eyes glittered like the gems they mined, and their posture was stiff as they glared down at Kit and the party.
“It ain’t monsters you need to fret over,” one of the dwarves sneered.
Kit groaned. “Great googly moogly, we just don’t have any luck.”
A trumpet sounded.
Congratulations! Your life skill, “swear proficiently,” has risen to level three!
9
Brunascar: A Dwarven Stronghold
Only a short time later, Kit had completely changed her tune. In fact, as two guards frog-marched her down a dank hallway, she hummed.
The dwarf who had slapped manacles over her wrists when she first arrived at the dwarven city of Brunascar eyed her suspiciously. “Why do you make a joyful noise, you loyal-less elf? Don’t you know you are about to be imprisoned?”
“I’m totally aware of it,” Kit reassured him.
He exchanged glances with his companion, who walked on her other side. Together, they shook their heads, making the silver beads woven into their beards click.
One of the dwarves sharply prodded her with the butt of his axe. “Move along!” He ordered.
Kit willingly let them herd her along, as being captured by the dwarves had actually turned into the first bit of luck she had encountered since starting the game again.
With the dwarves as their escort, they hadn’t been attacked by monsters even once, and the dwarves had taken a back way into their city, cutting their travel time down to minutes as opposed to hours.
Moreover, Kit was the only one the dwarves seem to behold with real suspicion. Everyone else had been allowed to stay in the city.
The dwarves tugged on giant metal doors that groaned as they muscled them open. Beyond the door were a number of jail cells, all divided with iron bars. Kit didn’t see a jailer; that was probably because all of the cells were vacant, with the exception of one, which held two blonde-haired elves.
The elves, dressed in green and brown suede, shifted when Kit and her escort marched into the dungeon. But they settled down again and scowled when they saw it was Kit the dwarves had taken captive.
The dwarves opened the door to one of the empty cells. “You are to stay in here, until our king sorts out what to do with you,” one dwarf said.
“What will happen to my friends?” Kit asked.
“Don’t know,” the dwarf said.
The dwarf that was unlocking the manacles on Kit’s wrists and ankles glanced curiously at his companion. “I thought you said the King personally knew two of them?”
His companion glared at him and jerked his head in a gesture for him to back out of the cell. “They’ll be well taken care of, for we dwarves care for our visitors. Unlike you elves.” He added to the scorn in his voice by slamming the cell door shut and locking it with a thick metal key.
The two dwarves turned on their heels and stomped out of the dungeon, leaving Kit alone with the elves.
Kit looked around her cell—which, by all standards, was actually quite nice. There was a little cot mounded with furs, a cushion to sit on, and even a little fire with a stack of wood to feed into it.
Kit felt a breeze brush the back of her neck, as the party chat—a channel that would allow party members to speak privately to one another even when they weren’t in a close geographic location—activated.
“Are you all right, Miss Kit?” Gil asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you guys faring?”
“Quite well. We’ve been given rather luxurious rooms and told we may stay as long as we like.”
“Any news about the seal?”
“Nope,” Axel piped in. “Though I don’t reckon Riko and Prowl have been asking anybody much about it.”
“Their primary concern seems to be to free you,” Gil said. “Unfortunately, even though they are allies with the White Needles Mountain dwarves, the king is entirely unwilling to listen to them vouch on your behalf.”
“I can’t say I’m terribly surprised by that. If the roles were reversed, and we were trying to smuggle a dwarf into elf territory, they’d react just as poorly.” Kit sat on her cot and wrapped one of the furs around herself. “It looks like we’re going to have some down time. You should try exploring the city. Once we get the seal, I don’t think we’ll hang around very long, and this place is one of my favorite dwarvish cities in the game.”
“Wouldn’t that be rude as you are locked up and Miss Riko and Prowl are working to release you?” Gil asked.
“Nah. You guys can’t help with this anyway, so you may as well enjoy yourselves. Although, can someone tell me what happened to Chester?”
“
He’s stabled with our mounts,” Vic said. “I will see to it that he is fed and watered.”
“Thanks, Vic. You guys enjoy yourselves, and stock up on anything if you need it.”
“I’m going to train,” Axel announced.
“Ay-aye, leader,” Cookie said.
The party channel fell silent, and Kit was left to muse over her situation. She thoughtfully considered the elves, who sat with their backs to her. “Excuse me,” she called out.
Neither of them turned to look at her.
“Hello? I know you can hear me!”
“Do you hear something, Faladia?” One elf—a male whose hair was as silky-looking as Kit’s—asked.
“I only hear the insipid buzz of an insect trapped deep in the ground,” said his companion—a female whose eyelashes were dusted with gold.
Kit rolled her eyes. “So much for elvish camaraderie,” she grumbled. She wasn’t surprised they looked down on her, though their disdain was a bit much. She was still an elf, after all. She twisted the large fur for a few minutes—idly wondering what creature could possibly provide such a huge fur—before boredom finally got the best of her, and she approached the campfire. She opened her inventory and scanned the screen. She had been hoping she could use her armorsmithing skills and build something in her cell to use to her advantage, but the little information box that popped up when she selected her forge hammer informed her she had to use a forge with it. Kit thoughtfully rubbed her chin, and her gaze fell on the tool set she had been given when she became an apprentice candy maker.
Reluctantly, she unearthed the apprentice recipe for caramels and dug the necessary ingredients out of her inventory. “It’s not like I’ve got anything more important to do.”
An hour passed, and in that time Kit made three different batches of caramels. (The first two were health hazards as she had terribly burnt them, and they were about as hard as rocks, but the third batch had come out reasonably well and had also garnered her a level.)
Kit was rustling through the basic candy recipes she had been given—trying to figure out if there were something she could make besides caramels as her stomach was starting to roll from the scent of burnt sugar—when the dungeon door opened.