“Then get out there, bring me some back, and I’ll cook it up for you. On the house.” Standing with fists on her hips, the owner didn’t seem at all intimidated by the power arrayed in front of her. “Until then, pay up or stay out. You’re all certainly rich enough.”
“How about this?” said Dr Agony. His voice was more nasal than it sounded on the feeds. “You can give us the meal for free, or I can let Blomhaugen in on your little secret.”
The owner’s face went pale. She opened her mouth and shut it, then turned away, her shoulders slumped. She waved a hand in defeat.
“Fine. Fine, go ahead. See you next time you’re in town.” She disappeared into the kitchen as the members of Golden Apple turned to leave. We were between them and the door, and as they brushed past us, Valkyrie’s pale blue eyes locked with mine and lingered there. Her war paint was smeared and runny, and her short black hair stuck out wildly.
Dr Agony was the last to leave; he held the door open and turned back to the four of us gaping at him and his party.
“Word of advice, noobs,” he said. “Don’t let these NPCs push you around. They’ll take you for all you’re worth if you let them. Adventurers are the big fish here. Don’t forget it.”
The door slammed behind him.
“Asshole,” said Cass in a voice that was louder than conversational. Noah picked up a little bell from the counter and rang it, which reminded me that I had something to show off to my friends.
“Check it out,” I said, digging into my pockets. I came up with two metal bells of my own, as well as a tiny red gem that glittered enticingly despite being smaller than my pinky fingernail.
“Magic stuff?” asked Magpie. I nodded.
“I didn’t even have to pay for it,” I said. “Not yet, at least. The Guild said I can pay them back over time.”
“They’re charging you?” Noah asked.
A door slammed as the owner of the restaurant appeared from the kitchen, two menus in each hand, and waved us towards a table.
“Does Golden Apple harass you often?” asked Cass as we were seated.
“Ooh, sorry you had to see that.” The young woman wrinkled her nose. “They’re usually out in one of the border towns, but every now and then they like to come back to Wellpoint to slum it with the new kids. Bit sad, you ask me, like going back to your old high school.” She shrugged. “It’s only a little coin.”
“Did you hear about the monsters in Portal Square?” asked Noah. “Seems lucky that they were here.”
The owner laughed. “You must be new. That kinda shit happens all the time. Sometimes somebody gets hurt, but usually there are enough adventurers around to put ’em down quickly.”
“Where do they come from?” asked Magpie.
“Today, it was the sewers, I think,” said the owner. “I heard they were digging a new line, somebody knocked in a wall and there was a nest there. You know how it is. Well, I guess you don’t. I’m Naila, by the way.”
We all introduced ourselves, giving our gamertags, which didn’t seem to faze Naila. I was starting to get used to the idea of everybody here going by a fantastical name.
When she wasn’t being extorted, Naila was a sweetheart. The meal, a sort of spiced stew, was fantastic, so good that we forgot to ask what exactly it was made from. Eventually we all settled back in our chairs, letting the exhaustion of the day wash over us.
“Can we go to bed?” asked Noah. We were all thinking it, or at least I was.
“Yeah, we’ll decamp to Bad Luck Alley in a minute,” said Cass. “One more thing, though. Things went pretty quick at the Guild Hall, so I spent some time exploring the town. I bought something. It wasn’t cheap, but I think even Linnaea will approve.”
“What is it?” I asked. Cass dove a hand into her shirt and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of parchment. It was crumpled and had a large brownish stain.
“Apparently, some adventurer recently went out on a solo in the wilderness. He made it back to town, but only just barely. He died on the outskirts of town. I met the man who was there when he died. He heard his last words. And he was given this.”
She unrolled the parchment and smoothed it on the table. It was a sketch in faded black ink, showing a little collection of houses, a few ragged triangles for mountains, and a dotted line. For a moment, I was a kid again, huddled over a gameboard spread across Keats’s kitchen table.
“Cass, what are we looking at?” I asked.
She looked up at me, grinning. “It’s a treasure map.”
Scraps
“The man you bought it from—what did he look like?” Naila stood over us, her arms crossed and a rag in her hand.
Cass looked up at her. “Oh, older guy, short white beard, pretty tan. Why?”
Naila shook her head. “Silver chains around his neck?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You got scammed, I’m afraid.” Naila pulled up a nearby chair and dropped into it wearily. “That’s Andronus. He’s well known for taking advantage of new players.”
“He seemed pretty sincere,” said Cass, her eyes narrowing. “He actually dropped his price when I told him I only had my starting copper.”
“No, he made you think he dropped his price.” Naila rolled her eyes quickly upwards, as though seeking strength from above. “What did you end up paying?”
Cass looked at the table and kept her eyes down as she murmured, “Forty coppers.”
“Oh, shit!” Magpie stood up, covering his face with his hands. Noah stared out the window, expressionless. I was caught somewhere between the two reactions and ended by standing up halfway, sitting down again, and finally just putting an awkward arm around Cass’s shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll get by.”
Naila stood and flung her rag over her shoulder, then began to clear our dishes. “Looks like I’m comping two meals tonight.”
***
Bad Luck Alley was as crowded as Meat Street, but smelled much worse. It reminded me of the halls of our apartment block that my parents had ordered me to avoid, the ones more or less abandoned to squatters and addicts, and the others agreed.
“This sucks,” said Cass. “I’m oh for two in the Summerlands and now we have to live in this shithole. The Summerlands was supposed to be better than home, not worse.”
Thanks to our free meal, only Cass and I had used any money. Magpie had actually turned up an extra silver piece somewhere, though he wouldn’t say where. Between the four of us, we had the equivalent of a hundred and forty-five coppers.
We found a decent enough place to stay, a boardinghouse run by a man with a pink, drooping burn scar covering half his face. It was dusty inside, but the smell was tolerable, and we didn’t get a bad vibe from anyone as we watched adventurers with dirty faces and threadbare clothing come and go. They rented beds in a long common hall for a copper a night, but we all agreed to pay five a night for a small private room we could share. We handed over a week’s worth, paid equally by everyone but Cass.
Our stomachs full and our rent paid, we agreed wordlessly to retreat to the corners of the room, spread out the bedrolls we’d been given, and let the longest day of our lives end at last.
***
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” I blew out the melted candle stub in front of me and settled back. My bell clinked in my fingers and a moment later a wan flame flickered to life from the candle’s black wick.
“Give me ten fireballs in a row, then I’ll be impressed,” said Cass.
“I healed a scratch on my arm last night,” Noah said. “I’d show you, but it’s healed.”
The breakfast our landlord provided was dismal compared to the meal we’d had on Meat Street, gristly and gray and lukewarm, but it still outclassed the processed extruder fare we were all used to. Two solid meals in a row filled our spirits as much as our stomachs; even Cass was content and seemed ready to put her mistakes of the previous day behind her.
“First things first,” she said,
putting down a wooden bowl to which a few grains of rice clung. “We need gear. Noah, what’s that gonna cost us?”
“New?” Noah paused with a spoonful of rice halfway to his mouth. “More than we have. The best weaponsmith is Dahluhn—he has a storefront on Portal Square—but his minimum is a hundred gold per item. The other big name is Blackrazor, but he—”
“TMI, Noah!” Cass laughed, her hands up in mock surrender.
“Whoops,” Noah said.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Cass said. “What do new adventurers usually do?”
“Most people buy used gear,” Noah said. “Either from other adventurers or their guilds.”
“Well, I couldn’t afford the Warriors’ Guild prices and I don’t see any yard sales around,” said Cass. “What else?”
“The scrap dealer?” Magpie said.
“The what?” Cass said. Noah cocked his head.
“I saw it last night.” Magpie pointed to an alleyway a few blocks from where we sat in the morning sun. “Down there, just around the corner. They have weapons and armor.”
“When last night?” I asked.
“Late,” Magpie said, a twinkle in his dark eyes.
***
The scrap dealer didn’t have a sign, just a cracked glass shop window that showed battered armor pieces and dull swords. A bell jangled as Cass pushed through the door. Inside, the shop was dim and dusty. Tottering stacks of all kinds of adventuring gear were piled into little islands, between which wound narrow aisles. We spread out, picking our way cautiously among the junk, looking for price tags.
“How do you like Bad Luck Alley?”
I jumped as a man came around the corner of one of the scrap piles, sticking out his hand for a shake. He was about my height, heavyset, with a round, clean-shaven baby face and a snub nose. His black hair was thin on top of his head but thick on his arms and chest. Unsure what else to do, I shook his hand.
“I’m Linnaea,” I said. “We’re Hearthammer. We’re looking for gear.”
“What do you think of Bad Luck Alley?” the man repeated, as though I hadn’t spoken.
“It stinks,” said Cass. “I’m Jessamine, party leader. This is Sepharad and Magpie.”
“Do you know why it’s called Bad Luck Alley?” the man asked.
“Adventurers who are down on their luck live here,” said Noah. “Because it’s the cheapest area in Wellpoint.”
“Wrong!” The man pointed at Noah. “Propaganda. The rats out there”—he pointed at the door—“that’s what they want you to think. Not one of ’em will tell you the truth: I was a coward. I didn’t watch my six. I didn’t practice enough. Go ahead, ask ’em. To a man, it’s, Oh, I’ll be back on my feet soon. I just had some bad luck.”
“That’s not us,” Cass said. “We just—I just—made a mistake, that’s all.”
“Sure you did,” said the man. “I’m Wayland. Pleased to meet you all. I’m sure you’ll be a regular bunch of Golden Apples soon. How can I help?”
“We need weapons and armor,” said Cass. “A bow for me and some good tough leather. Sepharad, what do you want, a sword? Mace?”
“Sword, please,” said Noah.
“A sword and steel armor,” Cass said. “Linnaea, what do you need? You should have a dagger or something. And leather for her, too.”
“Terrific,” said Wayland, looking us over. “And for the quiet gentleman?”
“Oh, right,” said Cass. She glanced at Magpie, who was examining a flat leather case. “He’s paying for himself.”
“He has more money than any of us,” I whispered.
“Then he’ll be fine,” Cass replied.
Magpie held up the case. “I’ll take this and two knives.”
“Slow down,” said Wayland. “Let me see what I’ve got. No computers, you know. Managing my stock is always a bit of a balancing act. You need leather too, thief?”
“No thanks.” Magpie gave a crooked smile. “Never learned to fight in armor.”
Wayland set off down the narrow aisles, talking to himself quietly, occasionally stopping to pick through a pile or count under his breath.
“This is exciting,” said Cass.
“Do I really need a weapon?” I said. “I’ll be in the back, right? We could save some money.”
“Yes, you need a weapon,” said Cass. “Be real.”
“Here we are,” said Wayland, balancing a tottering stack of weapons and armor in his arms. He dropped it at our feet in a clatter of metal. “Sword, shortbow, a dagger, two leathers, and I found a steel breastplate from someone about your size. Oh, and I’ll get you some arrows, I assume you want arrows. That’ll be six gold and a silver, all told.”
“What?” said Cass. “That’s insane!”
“You should see what the big guys charge,” said Wayland with a shrug.
“Yeah, but that’s all new and custom-made,” Cass said. “This is… not.” I knew she wanted to say something like junk, but had stopped herself. She wouldn’t have been wrong, though. The armor was scratched and stained, with some loose seams and missing ties. The sword was missing a scabbard, its blade pitted and missing a triangle chip along one edge.
“And another thing,” said Cass. “I didn’t say shortbow. What am I, a kid? I may be a girl but I can draw sixty pounds when I want. I use a longbow.”
“Terrific,” said Wayland through gritted teeth. “Seven gold even.”
“We can’t afford that,” Noah said.
“No shit,” said Wayland. “And before you ask me to cut my prices down, the answer’s no. This gear may be used but it ain’t free for me either. Add in my payments to Expedition every month, I’m this close to losing money on the whole thing. So, wanna talk about what you can buy with fifty coppers each?”
Cass and I shared a glance.
“Look,” I said, “maybe we could make a deal.”
“What kind?” Wayland’s eyebrows went up.
“Well, uh, we’re adventurers.” I spread my hands. “We just need to get started. Let us use the gear now and we’ll pay you back. With interest.”
“Ah, that deal,” Wayland sighed. “Last time I made that deal, I lost a lot of good gear.”
“What happened?” Noah asked.
“What do you think?” Wayland snorted. “They never came back.”
“So they’re still out there somewhere?” I asked.
“Their bodies are, sure,” said Wayland.
“Okay then,” I said. “We’ll go get your stuff back.”
***
We left town with weapons in hand and empty pockets. I’m not sure what I was expecting as we set out on our first quest as a fledgling adventuring party. An ominous stone gate leading out of town? Cheering townsfolk come to see us off? Whatever it was, we didn’t get it. The ruin where Wayland’s old customers had died was roughly to the north of Wellpoint, so we wound our way out of town via a neighborhood nicknamed “the Burbs,” where the very richest players owned proper houses. Each member of Golden Apple had their own place in the Burbs, as did Pixie and Meteora, though mostly the houses were shared by adventuring parties.
Past the Burbs, the cobblestone street that ran between the houses turned to gravel, then dirt, and finally petered out at the edge of a lush, rolling grassland spotted with flowered shrubs. Just like that, without fanfare, we’d left Wellpoint and were officially on an adventure.
My armor pinched my armpit, and I twisted it into a new position. The leather had been worked a little, forced into a somewhat fantasy-looking shape and imprinted with a scrolled-leaf design, but it was basically just big stiff slabs over half an inch thick, tied together with leather thongs. My dagger—Wayland’s dagger—bumped on my hip as I walked.
So far, adventuring was a bit uncomfortable.
I was sharply aware of my armor, my weapon, my pouch full of magical implements, even the weather. The Summerlands were cool compared to the endless heat of the HECZ, but I felt sweat prickling my back all the same as th
e shade of the Burbs became a memory.
It was possible, too, that that was anxiety making itself known. I’d seen a shocking amount of bloodshed in the last few weeks, but walking towards it with my eyes open was a first. I’d frozen when Porter shot Jason and nearly done it again in Portal Square. Cass had collapsed completely. Why did we think the next time would be any different?
And yet… the flutter in my stomach and the quickening of my pulse didn’t feel like fear. We’d spent five years training. I’d cast a real spell. I was walking towards danger, but also towards my chance to save Keats. Who cared about a little discomfort? I was in the Summerlands.
“I wish Wayland hadn’t taken all our money,” I said.
“It’s just collateral,” said Cass. “We’ll get it back.”
“I know, I just really wanted to get a sketchbook.” I waved at the grasslands around us. “Look at all this! I should be taking notes.”
“You could record it,” Noah pointed out. “Everything that goes out on a feed gets saved on a server somewhere, so you could use your drone to take notes.”
“Oh yeah.” My camera drone still followed me everywhere, buzzing away, but I’d never turned on my feed, and I’d quickly tuned out the noise.
“Do it!” said Cass. “Maybe you’ll actually get some viewers. Apparently nobody wanted to watch me walk around town.”
“Okay,” I said. “Okay, let’s try it.” I snagged my drone, which was hovering about a foot above my head, hit the big red Stream button, and let it go. Immediately, the drone spun into position, its camera eye focusing on my face. The sound and image it captured were sent wirelessly back to the Expedition Hall in Wellpoint thanks to a series of repeaters installed by the ranger teams. From there, the data passed down thick fiber-optic cables, through the portal to the real world. Somewhere in the Expedition Games complex on the Isle of Lewis, a content-distribution server woke up and began sharing my feed out to the world, spreading across Expedition’s massive network like fire running out the branches of a tree.
“Hello,” I said. “This is Em—this is Linnaea, making my first stream.” I looked at Cass, uncertain, and she made a go on wave with her hand.
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