Eastbound and Town: A LitRPG/Gamelit Adventure (The Good Guys Book 8)

by Eric Ugland

  “So, just leave it alone?”

  “We have things to do anyway.”

  He grabbed my shoulder, and it felt like I was being pulled behind a train, wind whistling past me and reality blurring in a way I couldn’t really comprehend.

  Then everything became still. I was standing in a board room.

  There was a large table in front of me, and around it, eight very odd-looking people. The room didn’t really have walls — it just sort of drifted into darkness. But the table was lit, I just couldn’t see how.

  “Montana of Coggeshall,” Mister Paul said, “the current eight.”

  “Eight what?”

  “Silence!” boomed one of the figures.

  “Is that necessary?” Mister Paul asked, taking a step forward, and putting himself between me and the others. “He has come here willingly.”

  The booming figure grunted, and waved a clawed hand. I took a second look, and the figure seemed more human this time. But it was hard to keep him in focus. Or any of the figures really. It was more like they only existed fully in my peripheral vision. Looking directly at any of them was difficult. It made my head hurt.

  “Tell him,” one of the figures said.

  “Ah, yes,” Mister Paul said, with a slight nod. He turned to me, and gave me a smile. “So, Montana, it seems that you have stumbled upon something which you should not have. That is our error, not yours.”

  “The girl?”

  “Uh, yes. We can call her that for the moment. Certainly.”

  “Is this because she doesn’t have a character sheet?”

  “I am forced to tread very carefully with what I say here,” Mister Paul said, “because the rules are clearly laid out and are in place to suppress certain elements of what you have seen.” In a not exactly subtle manner, Mister Paul pointed toward the eight figures at the tables with his eyes.

  “Okay,” I said. “I get it. So the girl isn’t part of the, uh, the rules. Or what the rules outline.”

  “That might be the perfect way to describe it. The girl, these ruins, and everything within are elements outside the rules. Therefore, they cannot be.”

  “Be what?”

  “Just be. Exist. They cannot be at all.”

  “Uh, I don’t really understand what you’re saying here. They do exist — I was just there.“

  “Nothing of what you have seen since you went into the ruins — actually including the ruins themselves, to an extent — is supposed to be in the world you have entered. It was left there by mistake. An oversight. To leave them in the world disrupts the balance of things. It makes the rules, as they have been written and followed for almost an eternity, invalid. As such, because it is such a momentous whoopsy, the Eight have convened to oversee the, uh—“

  “Unfucking of the situation?”

  “An apt explanation of what needs to happen.”

  “Okay, so how do I play into this?”

  “As has been agreed to by all here, as is writ in the rules, you have found something and rightfully taken ownership of it. Not only is it on your claimed land, it has been discovered and explored by you. Therefore, as is in the rules, you are given the opportunity to trade the illicit items which are not allowed in the world for items which are allowed in the world.”

  “What items are we talking about?” I asked, and then I leaned over close to Mister Paul to whisper. “And why am I talking to you and not them?”

  “I appreciate that you are whispering, but we are in the presence of gods, so perhaps assume they can hear you even when you whisper. It is, well, a matter of decorum in that no one could decide who should speak, so it fell to me.”

  “Ah.”

  “But, I negotiate with you on good faith from the eight and the rest of the rule signatories.”

  “Do I need to know who those are?”

  “It would take your lifetime to list them all. So, you could ask...”

  “I’ll let it go.”

  “A wise move. Now, there are four basic, well, trade items as agreed upon by the eight. One, the girl. Two—”

  “What do you mean the girl?”

  “The girl cannot be allowed to exist.”

  “So you’re going to kill her?”

  “No. We are going to cease her existence.”

  “That sounds a lot like killing.”

  “It is both more and less. She will no longer exist in any capacity. There are but two beings with memories of her, and those memories will be struck as well.”

  “So you’re going to mess with my brain.”

  “Yes.”

  “And kill the girl.”

  “It will not be a killing like I think you are thinking of, it will be instantaneous.”

  “What if I say no?”

  “You cannot.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can.”

  “I would urge you to not press this,” Mister Paul said, his eyes wide. And then he leaned in to me to whisper. “Think of how much more powerful I am than you. Now imagine that magnitude of power multiplied by a number you do not even know. That approaches how much more powerful these eight are than me. They are unhappy right now, and are looking for a reason to end you just like that girl. Some have suggested that is the appropriate course of action. So do not throw away my existence with your existence and the existence of everyone you know and care about for a girl who was already expecting to be killed when she left that fucking temple.”

  I blinked a few times, and took a few breaths, trying to digest what he’d said. On the one hand, I did feel a sort of moral righteousness to save the girl. On the other hand, I didn’t know her, and I kind of liked being alive. And she was planning to die anyway. I mean, who was I to stand in her way?

  “Okay,” I said. “I don’t feel great about it, but if that’s the way the rules are written, who am I to break them? The other three?”

  “The girl, the coins and valuables, the ruins themselves, and the memories in your head.”

  “What about the gryllus?” I asked.

  Mister Paul stuck his finger in the air like he appreciated the reminder, and he turned to the figures seated around the table.

  A conversation happened so fast, all I heard was a very brief cacophony. Then back to stillness.

  Mister Paul turned back to me with a smile on his face.

  “So, five things to negotiate.”

  “What happens if I ask for the girl?”

  “I slap you for making it difficult.”

  “Noted.”

  Five things. Five gifts from the gods. That’s not something you get every day. Even though, to be fair, it seemed like I got presents from the heavens more than the average bear.

  “Life for a life, right?” I asked.

  Mister Paul made a non-committal sort of a face, but also nodded ever so slightly.

  “I want Skeld back,” I said.

  “Seems like a good ask.”

  Once again, he turned around. There was a bunch of noise I assumed was the eight figures talking it over. Then Mister Paul turned back to me.

  “They say no,” Mister Paul said.

  “The fuck else am I going to do with that?”

  “The thought was to offer you additional respawns.”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “I want Skeld.”

  “It would seem the, uh, god of death is rather fond of taking something from you, and he’s not so keen on returning the soul.”

  “Tough titties. Y’all messed up, y’all pay up.”

  “I’ll pass that along, shall I?”

  “Fuck ye—maybe polish it a little. But yeah.”

  “A moment.”

  I tried to figure out which one might be the god of death, but that was impossible. While they were talking, everyone blended together horribly. I felt like I was going cross eyed. But faster than made sense, Mister Paul came back to me.

  “He is being difficult,” Mister Paul said. “But he said to offer you Hannibal.”<
br />
  “I don’t know who that is.”

  “The great Carthaginian general?”

  “What’s that?”

  “He is, well, he crossed the Alps with elephants?”

  “The Swiss Alps?”

  “I think they were the Roman Alps at that point, but sure. Let’s call them Swiss.”

  “Didn’t he lose?”

  “Yes, but—“

  “No thanks.”

  “Ajax? Greatest warrior of the Greeks? Or Spartacus, greatest—”

  “I think I’m pretty covered on the fighting front.”

  “Helen of Troy. She launched a thousand ships.”

  ‘’We’re landlocked.”

  “Should have guessed at that response.”

  “I want Skeld.”

  “I urge you to reconsider.”

  “How much urging.”

  “The God of Death is not one to add to your bad side.”

  “Sounds like I’m already on his bad side.”

  “Nearly everyone is, to some degree.”

  “Doesn’t he appreciate how many things I send his direction?”

  “You might think that. But, well, who am I to judge?”

  “You’re a pretty judgy guy, Mister Paul.”

  “Judgy god, thank you very much.”

  “I just don’t see why it’s a big deal to get Skeld back.”

  “It is mainly because he does not want you to have him.”

  “That’s petty.”

  Mister Paul shrugged.

  There was some noise from the eight — they were talking amongst themselves. Mister Paul turned around to listen in, and in a heartbeat, he was back.

  “Skeld is yours once again,” Mister Paul said with a smile. “However, there is a minor inconvenience.”

  “Which is?”

  “You burned his body.”

  “Right.”

  “So he will need to be reincarnated, and that means he may not return in the same form.”

  “Is he going to be a baby?”

  “No. Just, I mean, there’s a chance he will not be a lutra. A rather good chance, all things considered.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Okay. One down, four to go.”

  “Second was the treasure.”

  “Correct.”

  “I’m assuming you’re going to take all the golden furniture.”

  “And the coins. And the magical items you took but didn’t realize.”

  “What magical items?”

  “Is it really important considering you are just about to lose them?”

  “No. I mean, I am curious—“

  “No. Leave it.”

  “Fine. I guess just give me, uh, mithril.”

  “Mithril?”

  “Yeah, like, all the furniture in mithril. Wait — double the furniture in mithril.”

  He looked over his shoulder, but there was nothing from the peanut gallery.

  “Deal,” Mister Paul said. “I appreciate you moving this along.”

  “Sure. Now the ruins. That is a big building. And is now the time to make sure you guys cleaned up the city as well? Because I have a feeling that might be around as well.”

  “The city was taken care of. The only reason this place remains is because of the errant, well, because of the unique nature of this ‘valley.’”

  “Okay. So, how about you give me a fortress.”

  “A fortress?”

  “Yep.”

  “No. The ruins are useless to you except as something interesting. A fortress fundamentally alters your place in the, well, in the mix of things. At best, we can offer you a magical building of your choice that can be placed within Coggeshall.”

  “A magical fortress?”

  “No. A singular building that does not relate directly to defense. No gatehouses, no siege towers, nothing of that nature. I will take care of it.“ Once again, he leaned in to whisper. “I understand what you are trying to do, but bear in mind that you are now on the radar of these gods, and that is rarely a good thing. Perhaps it would be wiser to seek less now to seem an unworthy opponent as of yet.”

  “Opponent?” I asked. I mean, I understood the idea of staying out of sight, but why would a god think I was an opponent?

  Mister Paul stood back up straight, and smiled. “Lovely. Now, memories.”

  “How the fuck do I approach this? Can you, I mean, can you not? No. I don’t know why I bothered to ask. I guess, I mean, this makes no sense to me, but if you can suck memories out...” I paused, wondering if this was the answer I was looking for. Certainly there were some memories I had that were just pain for me. If I could get the memories of the girl taken from me, maybe I had a shot at actually being happy again. “I...” but those were also the foundation of my happiest of days. I would lose the lows, sure, but the highs would also be taken from me. It just didn’t seem like a worthwhile trade. “You give my buddy Tarryn some kick ass spells to make up for it.”

  “Kick ass spells?”

  “You’re taking his memories too, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then give him spells.”

  “And for you?”

  “I mean, well,” I said and thought about things. Spells. Magic. I’d kind of had magic torn away from me because of mana channel nonsense. “Can I get my mana channels back?”

  Mister Paul grimaced and sucked air through his teeth.

  “I can ask,” he said. “If you want.”

  “But?”

  “Let’s just ask, shall we?”

  He turned away, and there was the noise and weirdness and I tried to get a better glimpse and/or understanding of what was happening, and it just seemed beyond me.

  “A no,” Mister Paul said.

  “Did they say why?”

  “No. And before you ask, I’m not going to ask why. You know partly why.”

  “I’m too strong.”

  “That is part of it.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  “Your chosen race.”

  “You—“

  “Let’s move along, shall we.”

  “Just give some spells to Tarryn,” I said, realizing that whatever chance I had to do magic was gone. Which sucked. But if the god of magic himself wasn’t going to let me cast spells again, I doubted I had much of a chance. “Whatever I would have gotten for this, give to him as well.”

  “How very generous. And which spells will Master Flynn be receiving?”

  “I trust you to give him good ones. That will help the people of Coggeshall.”

  Mister Paul nodded, and I could tell he liked that I was putting my trust in him.

  “And for the gryllus?” Mister Paul asked.

  “Can I get a prinky upgrade?”

  Mister Paul turned his head to the side and blinked a few times. “Excuse me?” he asked. “A what?”

  “Like, make the little guys more useful.”

  “I, uh, I mean, I can ask...”

  He turned back to the table, and the grating racket resumed as the eight talked. And thankfully, like each time, though the din was painful and bizarre, it was also mercifully short. Mister Paul turned around, a smile on his face.

  “No. The prinky is not a creation of anyone here. Therefore, it would be uncouth for one of these to work upon it. The Master of Magic has graciously offered to increase your ability to summon prinkies, however, roughly three times the current level.”

  “Uh, how is he doing that?”

  Mister Paul just gave me a look, and shook his head.

  “Is now the wrong time to ask that?” I asked.

  “Now has finished. The eight are busy, and you being allowed to leave alive is a blessing in and of itself. So, let us depart with our heads intact, shall we?”

  “I thought my memory was going to be altered.”

  “It has.”

  “When?”

  “Already.”

  “But—“

  Mister Paul gave me a big s
mile, put his hand on my shoulder, and I was ripped through realities faster than I could comprehend. We came to a screeching, halt and I was laying at the bottom of the centipede’s pit, looking up at the blue sky.

  “Can you get off me?” Tarryn’s muffled voice came from the general area of my butt. “I’m dying here!”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I struggled to get off my buddy, who was laying under for some bizarre reason. As soon as I got to my feet, I saw that he was covered in mud. Above, Amber was looking down with a smile on her face.

  “You two are idiots,” she said.

  There was mud everywhere in the pit. Which was odd, because I sort of remembered Tarryn using fire to burn all the centipedes, because we wanted to look at something. But instead, he must have used the wrong spell or something, because everything had turned to muck.

  And it smelled.

  I grabbed Tarryn by his robe, and hauled him to his feet.

  He looked like shit.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  “Me? What the fuck happened to you?”

  “Uh, I,” he began, then he looked at his hands and shook his head. Still hanging from my grip on his robes, mind you. “I don’t know.”

  It took a bit of work, but I managed to shove Tarryn back out of the hole. Then I got my own mud-covered butt out as well.

  The sun was lower than it should’ve been. And the prinky-kobold combo team had been working their collective asses off, because they’d dug along to where I couldn’t really see them any longer. Which, you know, to be fair wasn’t that hard, considering the prinkies are tiny and the kobolds ain’t exactly big themselves.

  I sat down and shook my head.

  Things weren’t exactly adding up, and that bothered me.

  Amber was still looking over us, and she still had a wry smile on her face.

  “What happened in there?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” she replied.

  “There’s, uh, I think gaps in my memory.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.”

  “I guess I meant when?”

  “Just now. I mean, how did, uh, I mean, why were we down in the hole?”

  “You were killing the giant centipedes.”

  “But. Both of us.”

  “Tarryn got too close and fell in. You jumped in to save him. Killed the centipedes, I guess, and then somehow slipped and fell on top of him. At least, that’s my take on it.”