Dagger of Doom: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 5)

by Rachel Ford

  “Loath as I am to agree with him,” Karag said, “I think Arath may be right: the tavern is a good starting place.”

  “Hear, hear,” Migli agreed. “Anyway, I always think better with a beer in my belly.”

  “Better? You hardly think at all as it is,” Arath declared with a laugh.

  Migli laughed too. “Then I’ll need two beers, just to give myself a better edge.”

  “You and me both, my little friend. You and me both.”

  Jack groaned. He’d had the misfortune of meeting Arath in a pub – a misfortune he’d done nothing but regret since. The other man was a bad drunk. Not that he was a good – well, anything. But he was worse drunk than sober.

  Still, Jack didn’t have a better plan. He had no idea of who resided in the great house, or how to get an invitation to speak with the town’s lord. He couldn’t just blunder up to the front door, introduce himself and ask for an audience before he even learned the name of the town or its leader.

  No, they needed to do a little reconnaissance first. And the tavern seemed as good a place as any to begin.

  The first order of business, then, was locating it. Arath tapped his nose. “Don’t you worry your head about that, Jack my lad. I’ve got a sixth sense for these things. Just follow me. I’ll find it.”

  That seemed absurd to him. No one could ‘just find’ a building. The ranger grinned at his objection, though. “You willing to wager the first round of drinks on it?”

  Migli laughed. “Aye, do it, Jack. Either you’ll win, and Arath will owe us drinks, or he’ll win and you’ll owe. Either way, we make out.”

  “We’re not here to drink,” Ceinwen reminded them. “We’re here to find Kalbidor.”

  Arath waved the objection away with a brush of his hand. “Well, Jack? You up for a little bet?”

  Jack shook his head. “Fine. Because it’s ridiculous. But you don’t get to blindly wander the city until you stumble upon it.” He drew out his watch. It was quarter past four in the afternoon. “You have until quarter till five. If you haven’t found it by then, you owe.”

  Arath clapped his hands together. “Deal. And I hope you’re good for it, Jacko, because drinks are about to be on you.”

  Jack snorted. He felt pretty confident in the deal he’d made. They’d reached a strange town with a hundred streets and byways, and he’d only given Arath half an hour to locate their destination. It would take a miracle to find the right place that quickly.

  Arath led them into town via the main road – a patchy bit of cobblestone and dirt that looked like it could have used repairs a hundred years ago. Now, there were as many potholes as anything else – and more horse dung than cobbles.

  Not for the last time, Jack regretted the game’s ultrarealistic rendering of smells. He could smell sweat and grime as they passed residents, and the stink of sewage along the roadside. That was a step too far on the realism front, in his estimate.

  So was the way the suspiciously dark, smelly mud squashed and sloshed under his boots. Leave it to Marshfield Studio to develop a game that rendered shit in high definition with perfect attention to odor, but that trapped players in their virtual reality apparatus.

  “This town seems to have fallen on hard times,” Er’c said after a space.

  “What gave it away?” Arath snorted. “All the poverty, or the literal piles of poop in the streets?”

  Jack glanced at his watch. They’d diverted down a handful of side streets already. “Fifteen minutes left,” he told the ranger.

  Arath glanced over his shoulder and grinned at him. “Get your money ready, Sir Jack.”

  Jack laughed – until they rounded a corner, and stood before a decrepit, wattle and daub building with a sign declaring it to be the Red Fox Inn and Tavern. His jaw dropped and he glanced again at his watch. Arath had found the place in sixteen minutes and some odd seconds. “How the heck…?”

  “After you, ladies and gents,” Arath declared, pointing to the door. “And remember: order whatever you like. Jack’s good for it. Aren’t you, boss?”

  Jack scowled at him, and this time Arath laughed. Clapping him on the shoulder, the ranger pushed past. One by one, the companions entered – all but Shimmerfax, who nosed through a trough beside the door.

  Even Frosty followed Jack into the pub. A new wave of odors hit him now – the same stale sweat, but magnified by many bodies in close quarters. And with it came the smell of smoke and tobacco, of burned fat and roasting meat. It both repulsed and intrigued him, and he remembered he hadn’t eaten in a while.

  His companions by now had begun to mingle with the crowd. Arath and Migli had already pushed up to the bar and seemed to be putting in their orders. The others scoped out a table in the back. Jack set his steps toward the table and slipped in beside Karag.

  The giant looked a little like a jack-in-the-box, squashed into his booth. And the poor seat – well, it had gotten the worse end of the bargain. It looked like a child’s seat under his great bulk.

  A barmaid hustled over a moment later, smiling cheerily. “Welcome to the Red Fox. Is this your first time here?”

  “Yes,” Er’c said.

  “No,” Karag said.

  The girl glanced between them. “Well, if you’re new to the area, I can give you directions if you like.”

  “That’d be great,” Er’c said.

  “We’re not new,” Karag said. “We know the place well.”

  “Ah. Okay. Well, umm, can I get you anything?”

  One by one, the party put in orders for food and drink. And Jack ponied up three hundred and thirty-some gold pieces to cover it all, gritting his teeth as he did so. How the hell can the developers spend so much time getting the smell of sweat right, and then turn around and charge more for a sandwich than a sword? It boggled his mind.

  The girl disappeared, promising to be back with their orders soon. Then Karag turned to Er’c. “You must be more circumspect.”

  “What?”

  “Never reveal your weaknesses to a potential enemy.”

  The orc boy stared at the giant, clearly at a loss. Ceinwen, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow. “A…potential enemy? Karag, it’s not like the barmaid is going to be working with Iaxiabor.”

  “Maybe not,” the giant conceded. “But we are new to this place. We, none of us, have been here before. That is a vulnerability. We should not advertise it.” He glanced around awkwardly, trying to shift his body in the tiny seat. “The barmaid may well be a friend. But we don’t know who might overhear, or who she may talk to.”

  “Who might who talk to?” Arath’s voice asked. Jack glanced up to see the ranger walking carefully a few steps from the table, his hands burdened with not one but two great tankards of ale.

  “Never mind,” Ceinwen said.

  The ranger shrugged. “Fine by me. Anyway, Jack, I told them to put this on your tab. Mine and Migli’s.” He took a seat at the table. Jack saw the dwarf a step behind him, both hands similarly full.

  Migli lifted one of the tankards in a half salute, half toast. “Many thanks, Sir Jack.”

  Jack distinctly remembered promising to pay for the first round of drinks. As far as he reckoned, that meant one drink per member of the party. Not two. Still, he shook his head and let the point go. “Did you learn anything from the barman?”

  “That they charge a good deal too much for ale here.”

  “Anything useful?”

  Arath shrugged, declaring that to be useful in his opinion. Migli shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry, Sir Jack: he had never heard of Kalbidor.”

  “What about you? Did that pretty wench have anything to tell you?”

  “No. We ran into…a disagreement,” Er’c said.

  Arath laughed. “You picked a fight with the barmaid?”

  “No, we –”

  Arath didn’t seem interested, though. He was too busy laughing. “Leave it to you, boy. Leave it to you to fight the barmaid.”

  Chapter Three

  J
ack took over questioning when the girl returned with their orders. “Who lives in that great house in the center of town?”

  “No one, sir. Not since the mayor disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Aye, sir. Last month it were: he was investigating something. Strange business, and that’s a fact: people reported seeing wicked creatures outside of town.”

  Jack’s ears perked up. “Wicked creatures?” That sounded a lot like demons to him.

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of wicked creatures?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see them. But – well, there were wild stories. I shouldn’t credit them much.”

  “Except,” Ceinwen pointed out, “that your mayor disappeared investigating them.”

  The girl paused at that, then nodded. “You might have a point, Miss. But – well, I guess I don’t like to think of that.”

  The elf woman nodded sympathetically. “That must be very frightening. How close did you say these things were to town?”

  “I don’t know. A day’s ride maybe, or two. Maybe more.”

  They could get little more from the girl than that. She had no idea what the monsters looked like, nor what they might be after. She only knew that Mayor Ashford had vanished a month ago in pursuit of them. She couldn’t say what direction he’d rode off in, either. “I was at work that day. I didn’t see him go.”

  A side quest objective ran through Jack’s mind:

  Investigate Mayor Ashford’s disappearance

  He decided to ignore this, though. He wasn’t interested in Mayor Ashford. Sure, if he’d been playing the game for real, he would have gone after whatever rewards it would offer for uncovering this part of the story. But Jack needed to get through the main quest and get out of the game. He didn’t have time for side quests.

  Still, this was encouraging. A day or two’s ride meant they were close. “We need to figure out which way this Ashford went,” he decided.

  “Right,” Arath nodded, draining a long sip from his glass. “But first, we better finish this.”

  “What?”

  “We have to look natural. We came here and ordered a bunch of drinks. It’ll look awfully strange if we just abandon them.”

  Migli raised the glass he wasn’t drinking from in agreement; and went on drinking from the other.

  Jack wanted to disagree, but he had to admit that they had a point. So he nodded and fell to eating. He’d ordered a sandwich, and though it hardly measured up to the exorbitant price he’d paid for it, it was good anyway. The bread was thick and hearty, and it had been piled in roasted meat and fresh vegetables. Plus, it had come with a little mug of gravy that tasted like fat and salt and deliciousness. So he dipped chunks of bread, and ate until he was full; and then he finished the rest anyway, because it tasted so good.

  He was just licking the last bits of gravy off his fingers – and thinking with a more benevolent frame of mind about the game’s realism – when Ceinwen tapped his arm. “Look there.”

  She’d pointed at the door, and the woman who had just walked in. The newcomer was tall and thin, with a long, dark coat and an elegant walk. Aside from a little gray at her temples, her hair blazed a fiery red.

  Jack nodded. She stood out among her company, from her posture to her dress. He knew videogames well enough to know that she would be significant in some way. He was just about to say that he’d go introduce himself when Arath snorted. “Not worth your time, Jack. You can do better than that.”

  Migli slurped a last sip of ale and shook his head. “Don’t listen to him, my lad. She may be a little older than you, but that just means she knows what she’s doing.”

  Jack glanced askew at both of them. “I’m going to ask her about Mayor Ashford, Migli.”

  “Oh.” The dwarf shrugged. “Then in that case, I call dibs.”

  He ignored both of them and headed for the woman. She had chosen a seat at the far end of the bar, and for a moment conversed with the same publican who had taken his companions’ orders. Then the man nodded and walked away; and Jack moved in.

  He sidled onto the barstool beside her, and three dialogue options immediately popped into his thoughts.

  Well met, stranger. My name is Jack.

  I’m called Jack, and I’m new in town. You look like someone who might be useful to know.

  What’s a fair lady like you doing sitting all by her lonesome like this?

  Jack opted for the first choice. The pedantic part of his brain couldn’t abide the phrasing. How could he speak to how she’d met him when she hadn’t yet acknowledged his existence? But it was neither creepy nor patronizing, so it seemed the right approach.

  Until the stranger glanced him over with a dismissive look. “Don’t waste your time, kid. I’ve got no money to buy anything, and I’ve got a husband at home. So whatever you’re hoping to accomplish, well, pester someone else.”

  Two new choices entered his thoughts.

  You mistake me, my good lady. I am neither selling nor soliciting anything, except information. I am new in town.

  And,

  Do not be presumptuous, wench. I have no need of you except for information.

  Again, Jack went with the first dialogue option. The woman looked him over a second time, less dismissively now. “You are new in town. I have not seen you before.”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded. “My apologies, stranger. I did not mean to be rude. I am Marsha Wellington. What would you like to know?”

  The game gave Jack three possible responses:

  I am looking for your mayor. I heard he went missing awhile back.

  I am looking for a demon called Kalbidor. He and my blade have unfinished business.

  I need work. Do you know of anyone hiring?

  The third option, he supposed, was for players who had time to really spend exploring; and the first, for players with time to indulge their curiosity on side quests. Jack had neither, so he picked the second response.

  Marsha stared at him. “A demon?”

  Jack nodded. “Yes: big, ugly fellow, with a bunch of evil minions. Wants to raise a dead demon and destroy the world.”

  “Why in the name of the gods would you want to find him?”

  “I told you: I need to kill him.”

  She studied Jack with perplexed eyes. “It sounds like a risky business.”

  He shrugged, a little more confidently than was probably merited. But he’d had a little ale, and this Marsha was very pretty, and seemed very worried about his wellbeing. The combination fueled something like bravado in him. “I fear no demon, my lady. Not living or dead. Not Iaxiabor, and certainly not his minions.”

  “You are very brave, Sir Jack.”

  He preened a little at that, but shrugged again with an air of faux modesty. “Well, I just do what I must.”

  She shook her head sadly. “You sound like Mayor Ashford – poor man.”

  He frowned. “Ashford?”

  “Yes. He disappeared a month ago on a quest much like yours.”

  “He was chasing Kalbidor too, then.”

  “Kalbidor? No, I don’t think so. But we had sightings of strange and terrible creatures southwest of here. Horrible, wicked looking things: short and gangly and pale.”

  Jack nodded. It didn’t sound like the demons he’d seen before, but, of course, he figured there might be as much diversity among demons as any other species. “Southwest of here, you say?”

  “Yes, a few day’s ride southwest. But – well, he vanished, and so did the men with him. And no one has dared to go out in search of them since, for fear that they’ll meet the same end.”

  The wheels in his head were turning as she spoke. A few days. That’s what the barmaid had said too. That meant he was close – very close – to the end of this wretched game. He grinned at Marsha. “You don’t know it, my lady, but you have given me glad tidings.”

  She frowned. “How?”

  He realized, too late, how his wo
rds might be interpreted. “Not about your mayor’s disappearance. I’m sorry for that. But I am willing to bet that the strange beasts he was seeking were the same demons I am hunting.”

  Understanding lit her green eyes, and she nodded. “Then – your path and Mayor Ashford’s are the same.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must keep an eye out for him – aid him, if he yet lives.”

  A thought ran through Jack’s mind.

  Objective added: Marsha has asked for your assistance. Find the mayor, and aid him if possible [optional]

  “If our paths cross, I will,” he vowed.

  She clasped a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Sir Jack. You have no idea what it will mean for our town. Not in a hundred years have we had a mayor who actually cares about us. His predecessors have only gotten fat and rich off the hard work of our people, and left us to sink into ruin. It is why I went to work for him: Ashford actually cares about the people of Fox’s Crossing.

  “Return him to us, and you will save the town.”

  Jack nodded solemnly. “I promise you, my lady, I will do my best.”

  It was now that the barman returned with a plate of food and a tankard of ale. “That’ll be eighty-five pieces of gold.”

  Still feeling a little gallant, Jack reached out a hand to stop her as she went for her purse. “Allow me, my lady: you have done me a service, and I shall return the favor.”

  He paid for her food, and then headed back to his own table with a cheeriness to his step that earned him a suspicious glance from both Arath and Migli.

  “You did put the moves on her, didn’t you, you old dog?”

  “You already passed, Sir Jack. That’s most unsporting.”

  “Oh for the love of the gods,” Karag sighed. “What did you learn, Jack?”

  “We’re on the right trail. Ashford was hunting the demons – southwest of here, a few days out. Marsha there – she works for him. Or, worked for him. She wants us to find him.”

  “Are we going to?”

  Jack shrugged. “As long as it’s on our way, we might as well. These people need him.”

  Er’c glanced around at the dingy bar and its poorly dressed patrons. “They might be better off without him, if the state of the town is any indicator.”