by Charles Dean
“Wait, tonight? What time is it?” Lee asked. “Did you send those messages?”
“Yeah, I did. I told Ling that we’d give her a ride but that the rest of the men needed to start hoofing it. She said Dave was too lazy and that he’d wait for a ride as well, and then she spent all day killing stuff. I got a level off it. It was neat. That woman works really hard,” Jade commented. “We need to get like thirty of her in the group and just let them do all the work. That’s the real way to use NPCs. You’ve taught me much, sempai.”
“That’s not why I keep her around . . .” Lee started to correct her but then decided not to bother. “Anyway, it’s good that everything’s ready to go . . . but what’s with the rat tail?”
“Oh, well . . .” Jade twirled a strand of her blue hair around her finger. “I couldn’t think of the mount equivalent to car keys. I mean, I suppose I could toss a saddle at you, but then I’d actually have to resaddle the thing after. I also thought about tossing a bottle of something at you, but the only thing I had on me after the competition was that weak Dwarven beer, and it was icky with backwash, so, yeah, no. That’s why I figured, heck, at least the rat tail is the right shape.”
“Yeah, it is. Well, you’ve done great. Let’s get a move on.”
“No,” Jade said firmly, shaking her head.
“What?”
“I haven’t figured out what character I am, but you’re supposed to be the main character. That means you need to pat me on the head when you tell me what a good job I’ve done,” Jade insisted.
“Wait, you’re serious?” Lee was confused, but he saw no harm in it. Acquiring mounts to get down the mountain was a massive favor, so he went along with it and patted on her on the head.
“And say ‘good girl’ while you do it,” Jade added.
“Right. Good girl,” he said as he patted her on the head. “Now, can we go?”
“Sure,” Jade answered, touching the spot on her head where his hand had touched. “Definitely not that character. Didn’t feel right at all.”
“Wait, what about me?” the Dwarf man behind Lee asked. “Can I still be of help?”
“Oh . . .” Lee scratched at his chin while he pondered the question. Yeah, you could. I could definitely use this town for later, but . . . “Later. I’ll come back for this town one day, but until then, the only thing you can do for me is to tell the people that the god, Augustus, will handle their problems with the Phoukas.”
“Umm . . . but . . .” The man flinched, instantly looking uncomfortable. “But I can’t proselytize.”
“I thought I couldn’t either.” Lee laughed at how uncomfortable the idea had made him. “You said I saved your life by sending you back, so make something good of it for me. I’ll return in due time.”
“Fine, I’ll do as you say. The god called Augustus?”
“Yeah, the God of Alcohol and Crafting,” Lee confirmed.
“You done with the sales pitch? We need to go,” Jade said, tugging on his shirt and pulling him out the door.
Brigid, impressively awake despite her considerable inebriation, was waiting for them when they got to the stables. She had, largely with the help of several Dwarves, packed rations and everything they might need and seemed to be in good spirits, possibly because of all the alcohol from the drinking competition.
“Does she know?” Lee had to ask in a whisper as they approached.
“Ehh . . .” Jade answered warily. “I figured you should tell her since you know her and all. Though . . . preferably once we’re already moving. If she has a breakdown, do you want it to eat up travel time?”
Lee scowled, but he knew Jade had made the right decision. “How considerate.”
“Hey, big guy. It’s the main character’s job to comfort women after a tragedy. It’s how you unlock flags and move forward in the game.” Jade wrapped his arm in hers and rubbed up against him with a mischievous smile. “Also . . . Do you really want the girl who constantly yells at her to shut up to be the one to tell her the bad news?”
Ugh. I don’t want to do it either, he thought. Lee just saddled up the Krunklerump without saying anything, and the three of them quickly departed.
A few hours into the journey, after Jade had conked out and made Lee take over guiding her Krunklerump with a sort of incredibly-long leash, Lee decided to bite the bullet. “Brigid,” he began, turning in his saddle to look at her. “Did you umm . . . did Jade tell you what happened?”
“Huh?” Brigid looked over. “Do you mean with the fight? No. She hasn’t said a word. What are we up against?”
Lee was tempted to follow the tangent she unknowingly provided and describe the foe they were going to have to fight, but he knew that wasn’t going to lead anywhere and only make things worse. Strangely, now that he couldn’t avoid it any more, telling her what had happened wasn’t really that hard. Death and loss was part of battle, after all. “Brigid, I’m not talking about that fight. I’m talking about the one that already happened to our men in the forest,” he said.
“What?” Brigid looked over at him, confused. “What are you talking about then? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your men, Brigid. Your men are mostly dead. I’m sorry, but after my confrontation with Meadhbh, she went down the mountain with a stampede of Phouka. She wasted our troops. Two of yours survived; six of mine did.”
Brigid didn’t say anything. She just stared ahead silently. Lee wished he could offer her some form of condolences, but there was nothing that he could say or do that would bring back the dead. Plus, he recognized the dead look in her eyes, and he knew that she was better left alone to deal with the shock and grief in her own way. The quiet persisted for nearly two hours until finally she finally spoke up and said, “At least two of them lived.”
“Yes, there’s that,” Lee agreed.
“If I had been there to fight with you, maybe we could hav--”
“No, we couldn’t have. We’ll need to think of something, but that woman’s strength is greater than I imagined. I honestly don’t know how we’re going to beat her.” In truth, they might have had a better chance, maybe even a 5% or 10% chance of winning, thanks to his skill, True Patriot, but he didn’t want to give her any illusion that would leave her with guilt. “If you were there with me, the only difference would be that your name would be added to the list of casualties at the end of the expedition. You can still avenge them, and you can take care of the families that they left behind. That’s all that’s left at this point,” Lee said.
Brigid gazed at him with empty, unseeing eyes. “They put their faith in me--they put their lives in my hands--and I failed to keep them safe.”
“I know,” Lee answered, and it wasn’t nearly as sympathetic as it could have been. He didn’t mean to sound dismissive, but there wasn’t much to add to what she was saying. He knew from personal experience that, even if someone tells you it isn’t your fault, that doesn’t make the outcome hurt less. “But let’s do what we can for those left behind.”
Brigid just looked back down at her reins. “This was always meant to be a suicide mission. That much hasn’t changed. I suppose the only positive thing is the fact that we have survivors, so we know more about our enemy than we did before. I’ll have to send those two who saw her numbers and capabilities back to report to Birnefeld so that my city can be better prepared.”
“Brigid . . .” Lee sighed. He knew that she was just sending them back to spare their lives from the upcoming violence, and he hated that he understood what she was feeling so well. “I . . . know you’ve lost people before, so I don’t need to tell you this, but even if it doesn’t get better with time, it at least gets easier.”
She turned back to him with a wry smile. “Those words are too true, and I’m sorry for the loss of your men too. Tomorrow, we shall have victory, and then maybe you can make some of those glass statues for the men I lost. I can describe their faces if it is needed.”
I’ve got plenty of peopl
e to bury. There is no harm in adding a few more. He couldn’t stop himself from mentally doing the math for how many people he might still save and how many lifeless commemorations he’d need to make before the end of this.
“Yeah, I can do that,” Lee agreed after a moment.
Chapter 10
Name: Lee
Race: Human
Class: Herald - Statesman
Level: 29
Health: 390/390
EXP: 24782/51500
Primary Stats:
Power 39 (45)
Toughness 39 (45)
Spirit 39 (45)
Secondary Stats:
Charisma 31
Courage 22
Deceit 31
Intelligence 220 (253)
Honor -2
Faith 32685
Personal Faith 198
Skills:
Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7
Swordplay Novice Level 10
Sneak Journeyman Level 4
Cooking Initiate Level 8
Trap Detection Initiate Level 6
Knife Combat Initiate Level 9
Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1
Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3
Blood Shield Initiate Level 5
Sewing Initiate Level 4
Glass Smithing Novice Level 5
True Patriot
Carpentry Initiate Level 10
Delegation
Masonry Initiate Level 4
The Statesman:
Territories:
Satterfield (+10: Savior)
Defensive Strength Rating: 10
Economic Strength rating: 3
Population Rating: 1
Territory Rating: 12
Tech / Utility Rating: 12
Influence / Tourism Rating: 4
Public Persona:
Kirshtein (-2: Unkind)
Birnefeld (0: Unknown)
Divine Skills:
Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 6
Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 10
Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 6
Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 9
Faith Healing
Ignis Veritas
Spirit Builder Initiate Level 1
Divinity Powers:
Life in Death
Titles:
Cheat Code Fighter
The Great Deceiver
The Aggressive Mile-High Chef
Thanks to the Krunklerumps, the group was able to meet up with Ling and Dave just before the sunrise. However painful it was on Lee’s manhood, he couldn’t insult or doubt the mount’s speed as he rode into the camp. He instantly knew that it was theirs when he spotted the makeshift memorials that had been erected. Someone, likely Ling if he had to guess, had stuck a dozen sticks vertically into the ground, surrounded them with rocks for support, and then hung helmets from them. The effect was to create rather primitive-looking graves, but it clearly marked the loss that had been felt here. The thing that surprised him, however, was that no one came out to greet him. He saw their tents and fires, but there was no one in them.
Instantly fearing the worst, he had his golems start searching for any signs of what might be going on. Ah, I see . . . Lee marveled as he discovered the camp’s residents. Someone had fashioned several makeshift beds in the trees above. It was incredibly-crude work, but it was efficient. A crude series of planks had been laid out and nailed down between the limbs of the trees resembling something that a kid making the rough foundation of a tree fort might have done. Although it was unnecessary with the number of people left alive, there were three separate platforms. Ethan found Ling asleep by herself in one while Dave was sitting up and looking down at Lee from his own branch-bed, and the other two soldiers were doubled up in another tree.
Impressive. He also couldn’t help but think that it looked like the beginnings of an elf town from one of his favorite MMOs, and that given Ling’s preferred method of fighting, she’d fit right in. He also instantly recognized it for what it was: a ruse and escape from what might be otherwise ground-bound Phouka. He had only encountered one that could fly so far, and he very much doubted that one of the giant, cumbersome bears could scale into the trees without a fair bit of work and suffering a ton of damage.
“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to notice us,” Dave laughed. “Thought it’d at least be a few more minutes before you figured out how to stop floor-watching and hold your head up for a minute.”
“I’m not a . . . floor watcher,” Lee responded as he looked up at his friend, happy to see the familiar face.
“You are when you’re not just staring off into space,” Dave chuckled and hopped down from the ten-foot-high platform he was sleeping on without even bothering to use the makeshift ladder nailed to the tree. He landed with a heavy thud and said, “Other than those few creepy moments, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Either your head is buried in work, you’re praying, or you’re moping. You really need to learn to pick your head up and enjoy life’s pleasures.”
Lee focused on a grave marker that was less than a foot from where Dave had landed, and he couldn’t help but note the irony between the old man’s words and the situation they were in. “Not sure this is the appropriate time for that advice.”
“Nonsense,” Dave insisted as he walked over and smacked Lee on the back. “It’s always a good time to be happy. I’m sorry about your loss and all, but looking all depressed like you’ll never taste a woman again isn’t going to accomplish anything. You think it’ll bring back the dead? We’re all going to die sooner or later. Don’t lose a day of joy on their account. But, for what it’s worth, I’m still sorry for your loss, boy. I know that drunken Firbolg was a friend of yours, and it’s really hard to find a good drinking buddy, but don’t you worry. I’ll be happy to drink with you until you get a replacement.”
“Huh?” Lee looked at Dave, a bit puzzled.
“He’s talking about Miller,” Ling clarified from above as she gracefully climbed down from her branch. Her bow was slung over her back, and she was dressed in full armor as if she expected to fight at any moment. Lee’s eyes flitted over the sway in her hips as she descended, and he rued Dave for making him think of such things when there was so much work to be done.
The other two men also dropped down from their branches and made their way over. Unlike Ling though, they had to take time to straighten their armor and adjust several pieces once they hit the ground. It only took a brief moment for them to make themselves presentable, but it was impossible not to notice their lapse in order before they rushed up to Brigid and saluted.
Lee frowned, slightly confused. “Miller? Don’t worry about him. I’m sure he’s fine. More importantly, I heard about Pelham. I think I should be the one saying I’m sorry for your loss.”
Dave made an odd face, puffing out his cheeks and nodding his head at Lee. “That’s a good attitude. With that god of yours, I’m sure he is indeed. Same with Pelham. Well, do you want to head off now?”
Lee’s eyebrows furrowed as he realized that they didn’t understand at all. “No, that’s . . . That’s not what I mean. I mean that Miller is fine. He’s not dead.”
“Huh?” Ling voiced the confusion that was plainly written in her expression, and it was filled with every bit as much pain as well.
“Boy, I saw his face get eaten by a tiger,” Dave said crudely and doubtfully, with an edge in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “He’s dead. I know it’s been a rough day for you, but don’t act crazy in front of the girl here. Dead is dead. No one who gets half their head bitten off comes out less.”
“It’s not that. It’s that he’s . . . He’s not like us. He . . . Well, he’ll be in Satterfield by now waiting, so don’t worry about him.” How do I explain the concept of players and respawning to people? He had been hoping that he could continue to ignore the subject altogether. Miller did mention that he’d be reset to Level 1 if he died, so I’ll probably be
stronger than the oaf for once. Lee didn’t really enjoy that fact as much as he might have once imagined. He had grown used to charging into battle side by side with Miller, and the Firbolg was, for all of his ridiculous bravado, a trustworthy and competent battle partner.
“Oh,” Ling said. “So . . . he didn’t actually die? The status message said he died.”
“He did,” Lee explained carefully, “but did you check the notifications for EXP?” Ling certainly got the pop-ups. In fact, having spent her entire life as an NPC who relied on watching those blue pop-ups every moment of her life, she was probably more apt to pay attention to them than anyone else. The fact that she could send him messages via kill notifications like she had been doing assured him of that fact that she hadn’t dismissed them outright, no matter how much she might have originally wanted to after she became aware of the controlling aspect they had on her life. She probably knew the whole system better than anyone else, and rightfully so--but that didn’t mean that she thought of them as anything other than a constant reminder of her friends’ deaths at the moment.
“Yes,” she answered slowly, “but I haven’t seen a single message from him . . . since he died.”
“Yeah, but the EXP is being split,” Lee explained. “It’s still being dividing four ways.”
“Oh . . . Oh!” Ling’s eyes popped open as understanding hit her. “I didn’t check the math. It was too . . . I’m not good at dividing numbers that large so easily. I was just paying attention to my level and how far I had to go to reach the next one.”
Ah, that’s right. Of course she wouldn’t be good at quick math with large numbers. Her father probably never formally trained her in that, and Satterfield doesn’t exactly have a local tutor. While we were stuck in school doing hundreds and thousands of math problems till our eyes bled numbers over the course of years, she was out in the wild hunting and killing. The only math she ever needed was what was necessary to count the copper she got from selling off pelts and meat. That she even knows how to read at even an elementary level makes her more literate than over 90% of most people before the printing press was a thing.