《An Unexpected Hero [An Isekai LitRPG] [BOOK 1 STUBBED]》 CHAPTER ONE Is there anything more exciting than the rush that comes from standing on a stage, guitar strapped over your shoulder, microphone in hand, getting ready to make some suburban MILFs go crazy? Because that was me. Right now. Danny Kendrick, star of the stage at the Heart-Shaped Box. A prism of clearance-sale lights blazed behind me. This was my domain. I was in complete control. Being the sole source of entertainment for these poor ladies was a responsibility I took very seriously. Even on a Friday night, there wasn¡¯t much to do in Willistown, unless you were the kind of person who rented out motels by the hour. This was my time. After all, someone had to care for them. One more sip of beer, and it would be time to launch into my kickass rendition of ¡°American Woman,¡± Lenny Kravitz¡¯s version, of course, complete with my attempt at the obligatory guitar solo. I try to sneak in a Danny original or two from my short-lived touring days, but nobody wants them. Just the classics. So, it wasn¡¯t my dream gig of being a rockstar, but it was paying work, which is better than most musicians get. I¡¯d primed the crowd with a few slow jams. Got the seats wet, so to speak. Now let¡¯s make them gush. The only thing throwing off my game tonight was the fact that the table up front¡ªnormally reserved for the Friday-night-soccer-mom-crew and smokin¡¯ hot Trish with the blonde pixie hairdo¡ªhad instead been stolen by a brood of bikers who¡¯d been there since four, chugging dark beers like water. The drunker they got, the louder they got. The louder they got, the less attention I received from Trish and her friends at the back. Though I¡¯d complained to the Box¡¯s owner, Jerry, his only response was to remind me that they were spending more money than I was making. Thanks, Jerry. Needless to say, the motor-straddlers hadn¡¯t been impressed with my first cover of ¡°Making Love Out of Nothing at All¡± by Air Supply. And then they¡¯d soured even more when I followed it up with ¡°Who Will Save Your Soul?¡± by Jewel. Things got damned near dangerous when I launched into ¡°Don¡¯t Speak¡± by No Doubt. I mean, if you don¡¯t think Jewel and Gwen Stefani are hot, do you really even get to call yourself a man of the ¡¯90s? ¡°Hey, asshole, don¡¯t you know anything harder than these girlie tunes?¡± I looked down at the biker who¡¯d spoken. He was a beefy sort of fella, with eyes that could literally watch both doors at once. Reminded me of the kind of guy whose cousin got pregnant in high school and no one knew who the father was, if you catch my drift. He had a jet-black beard and mustache that looked like an overgrown hedge, bugs and all. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I wasn¡¯t particularly thrilled with being heckled, so I decided to do something about it. The confidence I¡¯d gained from the few beers I¡¯d already thrown back helped. ¡°Wait for it, my man,¡± I said mid-song. ¡°It¡¯s coming up next.¡± ¡°Yeah, better be.¡± The biker turned to his friends and muttered something that produced uproarious laughter. My face went hot. To hell with this. I stopped the song, held up my pint of beer that also cost more than I¡¯d make tonight, and toasted everyone in the crowd. ¡°Welcome to Friday night fun, ladies!¡± The moms all went wild. They knew me. I was safe. They liked safe. They could come, flirt, get wasted, and tell themselves they ¡°still had it¡± even though they were all on the downward slope toward Early Bird Specials and AARP memberships. It wasn¡¯t my old days of playing big clubs and tall stages, but I¡¯d done this enough to know that Girls Night Out was just code for ¡°does alcohol make me forget about the boring-doofus-accountant waiting for me at home?¡± I settled my eyes on the jeering biker and leaned forward with a grin. ¡°This next tune is for my new best pal in the whole wide world. Er, what¡¯s your name again?¡± The biker scowled. ¡°Kurt.¡± ¡°Burt! How ¡¯bout a big round of applause for my pal Burt?¡± He tried to correct me, but no one could hear him over the whooping ladies. ¡°Burt requested I play something ¡®harder¡¯,¡± I said. ¡°Now, Burt, if that¡¯s what you want, it¡¯s possible one of your hairy pals there can help you out. But this isn¡¯t that kind of show.¡± I probably shouldn¡¯t have said that, but I was floating on quite the buzz. Besides, even though Kurt clenched his fists, the guys sitting with him howled in laughter, so the joke clearly landed. What the hell. You only live once, right? Time to get playing. I fingerpicked an A chord. I sucked at fingerpicking, but Trish loved it. Wink-wink. The stage monitors squealed, feeding back as I stepped a bit too close to one. I ignored it. I¡¯m a professional. Sharp hisses sounded behind me, and fog filled the stage while a few of the bargain-bin lights whirred. The first tinny notes spun out of the economical speakers, and I sucked in a breath, then grinned at Kurt. ¡°My love, there¡¯s only you¡ª¡± ¡°SONUVABITCH!¡± Kurt sprang up, his wooden chair rocketing behind him and into the soccer moms¡¯ table. My adoring fans screamed in half-drunken horror. I staggered back a few steps as Kurt rushed the stage. ¡°What¡ªyou don¡¯t like ¡®Endless Love¡¯ either? But it¡¯s Diana Ross!¡± That was as far as I got before Kurt¡¯s beefy, hair-laden fist collided with my face in a chorus of sickening crunches. I soared across the stage. I¡¯d like to say I looked like a trained dancer as my boot slipped and I stumbled off the lip. Usually, I prided myself on my impeccable balance but, you know, beer. Graceful I was not. I slipped or tripped or both. It happened so fast, all I could see were the words blinking on the screen of an arcade machine: An Unexpected Hero. My head smashed into the video game, cracking the monitor. My poor guitar¡ªa Gibson Songwriter I¡¯d spent a lot of money on¡ªcrunched beneath me, and the beer glass someone had carelessly left sitting by the video game¡¯s joystick shattered. Who leaves an almost full beer unattended? It¡¯s sacrilege! Warm, sticky IPA splattered all over and inside of the machine. Bright lines of pain radiated through my skull, then spread all over. This was what I imagined being struck by lightning was like. The room became a glittering carousel. There was Trish. Bye, Trish! Oh, hey, Kurt. There¡¯s Trish again. I blinked and something new appeared before my eyes, flickering as electricity continued surging through my veins. A square? A hologram? Was it the arcade cabinet? I thought I¡¯d felt pain already, but I was wrong. Agony wrenched my insides and then came real pain. Lots and lots of real pain. And then blackness. CHAPTER TWO ¡°Ughhhhh¡­¡± It wasn¡¯t elegant, but it was the only sound I could make when I started coming to. My face throbbed. I swore. My face¡­ That¡¯s my money-maker. Sure, I could sing¡ªkinda¡ªbut my face¡­ I reached for my should-be-busted nose even before opening my had-to-be-swollen eyes. I let out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, everything seemed to be where it was supposed to be. ¡°Worthless bard. All you do is drink and pass out,¡± someone said. ¡°Kurt?¡± I mumbled, voice coming out slurred and pained. Didn¡¯t sound like Kurt, though. I risked opening one of my eyes, expecting the bright rainbow-lit bar to be excruciating. But the light was dim. And flickering. Like it wasn¡¯t really light at all. I peeled open my other eye, sitting up slowly. The stench of spilled beer was overwhelming. That was appropriate, considering what¡¯d happened. What wasn¡¯t appropriate was that I appeared to be sitting in it. And it smelled old and stale. How long had I been out? My pants were soaked with¡ª A pair of rough hands hoisted me off the floor. ¡°Kurt¡ªwait¡­ wait a second¡ª¡± Not only did it not sound like Kurt, it didn¡¯t look like him either. An old geezer wearing a leather apron and a stern expression got in my face. He had frizzy muttonchops that curled into a mustache. His yellow teeth were caked in food, and I nearly retched at the smell that accompanied his words. ¡°Every night, it¡¯s the same damn thing. You waltz in, try to sing, then get drunk and keel over in a heap. I¡¯m sick of it.¡± He took a step back and his face softened as if he¡¯d instantly calmed. He brushed me off like I was a kid who¡¯d fallen in the dirt. ¡°And you haven¡¯t paid your tab in ages, Daniil.¡± ¡°My tab?¡± I blinked, trying to clear the stars from my vision. ¡°Who¡¯s Daniil?¡± The man shook his head. ¡°So drunk you don¡¯t even remember your own damn name. You need help, boy.¡± He steered me back to a stool. ¡°Try and stay upright for the next few minutes. I¡¯m gonna get you some work.¡± ¡°Work?¡± Seemed that in my confusion, repeating words had become my only form of communication. The man threw up his wrinkled hands and wandered across the bar, leaving me on a wobbly stool. After a few seconds, I regained composure enough to survey my surroundings. I wasn¡¯t sure where I was, but I knew, without a doubt, it was not the Heart-Shaped Box. The flickering light I¡¯d previously noted came from a stone fireplace and some candles on wooden tables. Also, the floor and walls were rough stone, no sheetrock or paint. No neon lights missing letters. No mirrored back wall. It looked like the place hadn¡¯t been cleaned since the dawn of time. The tables were filled with folks dressed straight out of a renaissance fair, only dirtier, and smellier. Oh, the smell. You know when you flip open a garbage can that¡¯s too full and has been left out in the hot sun? It smelled like that. Everywhere. ¡°Where the hell am I?¡± The words had barely left my mouth when a light blue square materialized in front of my eyes. A hologram? Or a floating touch screen? The juxtaposition of the old-timey world around me and something that better belonged on an episode of Star Trek had my mind whirling. Within the light blue field, words appeared¡­ AN UNEXPECTED HERO. PART I: Gags, Hags, and Filthy Rags, Oh My! CURRENT LOCATION: Tavern NEW OBJECTIVE: Convince the braugs to let you sing for them. REWARD: Food The screen, since I guess that¡¯s what it was, wasn¡¯t opaque. Not exactly. It took up a good chunk of my vision, though. However, I could see the rest of the place through it. Superimposed over everything and staying directly in front of my face, even as I turned, the box projected as if from my eyes. Bizarre. Did everyone see this? I glanced around. No one seemed to pay me any mind at all. My head still ached from the punch and then the slam into the video game. Was this a symptom of a concussion? Or had I had more beers than I¡¯d realized? Sometimes that happened when I got in the zone. I looked at the words again¡­ An Unexpected Hero? Wasn¡¯t that the name of the arcade machine? I glanced around for Trish and the other moms. Apart from a semi-attractive redhead doling out drinks from table to table and wearing what looked like an Oktoberfest barmaid¡¯s cosplay outfit, everyone was old and of the male persuasion. Maybe I was dead. Maybe I¡¯d spilled my brains all over that machine and this was the afterlife. It was a far cry from any kind of heaven or hell I¡¯d been lectured on as a kid in Sunday school. Eternity in a tavern. Solid. At least if I was dead, the suburban housewives would be talking about my final performance forever. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. But I didn¡¯t feel dead. And I¡¯d had enough bad hangovers in my time to be pretty confident about what I thought death would feel like. A new message flashed across the weird hologram in front of my face. CURRENT HEALTH: 70% (Drunken Impairment) That was true. No one is one hundred percent after three or more Guinnesses. Or is it Guinessi? And how did this thing know what my health was? I¡¯d never considered my health state in percentages before. Maybe Kurt had socked me into a coma, and this was some sort of weird new healing technique that combined virtual reality with therapeutics. Hadn¡¯t I read an article about that somewhere? But where? Ugh. Thinking made my head hurt. The guy who wasn¡¯t Kurt ambled back over, rubbing his hands together. What was this guy¡¯s problem? Could he see the hologram and read that I was drunk? I hadn¡¯t even asked the question out loud, but the screen promptly issued a written response. No. I am present only for you, Danny Boy. It flashed again as the guy stopped in front of me. He suddenly became¡­ highlighted? Literally. A thin aura of whitish-blue light surrounded him, not unlike the color of the screen itself. NAME: Rarmir OCCUPATION: Tavern Owner RACE: Wellick (male) What the hell is a wellick? Again, I hadn¡¯t spoken out loud, but the screen answered. Wellicks are a humanoid race that make up much of the world. They differ only slightly from your kind¡ªmostly below the waist¡ªso you will blend in. Until you take your pants off. Can I continue now? I blinked, then shook my head. So, the screen could answer my direct thoughts? Hey, what do you mean until I take my pants off? You¡¯ll see. I groaned. Okay, I had questions and needed answers. I tried a simple one. Have you got a name? No. Where am I? A tavern. Hence, the Tavern Owner. I meant location. CURRENT LOCATION (EXPANDED): Tavern. Town of Nahal. Kingdom of Pyruun. Kingdom? What the actual hell? I guess I shouldn¡¯t ask what planet I¡¯m on, huh? Because obviously, I¡¯ve cracked. I swear the screen sighed. If you continue asking such silly questions, we¡¯ll never get anywhere. I¡¯m¡­ sorry? Very good. Now, where was I? Ah, yes¡­ RARMIR¡¯S SPECIAL ABILITIES: Master brewer, spirits distiller, facial hair to die for. WEAPONS: Oaken Club He has a club? I didn¡¯t get an answer, because the Tavern Owner¡ªRarmir, or whatever his name was¡ªstarted babbling at me. Listening to him made my head hurt even more. But one thing was for certain, he couldn¡¯t see the screen. Nobody would act so normally if their own profile stood in midair before them. He just talked right through it. ¡°All right, I had a talk with them, but it¡¯s gonna be up to you to win them over,¡± Rarmir said, deep chasms creasing his brow. ¡°They¡¯re a rough lot, no doubt. If I was you, I¡¯d put on my best performance tonight or they¡¯re liable to beat you senseless.¡± I kind of wanted to vomit all over him just to see his reaction. Honestly, it wouldn¡¯t be hard with how I felt. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I asked. Rarmir grunted. ¡°I don¡¯t put up with your antics because it¡¯s funny. I keep you around to entertain my guests. There ain¡¯t much in way of entertainment ¡¯round these parts¡ªand you barely do that. But enough¡¯s enough, Daniil. You¡¯re gonna earn your keep tonight. Now get your skinny rump over there and strike up a conversation with their leader. See if you can¡¯t get him to hire you proper. Who knows, you might even make enough to settle your tab here.¡± He pointed to a group behind me that I hadn¡¯t noticed before. Which was shocking since they were louder than a flock of elephants. Flock? That can¡¯t be right. A group of elephants is commonly called a herd or, less commonly, a parade. Hmmm. Thanks? ¡°C¡¯mon. Move!¡± Rarmir shouted before waddling away like a penguin. I didn¡¯t feel very much like doing anything except possibly going to sleep. For a really, really long time. But, I was pretty sure if I wasn¡¯t dead, I was already asleep and having one of the weirdest, most vivid dreams of my life. What was in that beer? It¡¯s ale¡ªor more specifically, a stout¡ªwhich consists of roasted barley, malted barley, hops, yeast, and water. This is gonna get old. As I stood and approached the crowd of ruffians, butterflies unfurled in my stomach. Something I didn¡¯t think happened in dreams. A mix of men and women, each one was fiercer than the last. They looked like they¡¯d just raided a Burlington Coat Factory. Or an S&M shop, all furs and leathers. The screen flashed again. BRAUGS: A surly, barbarous folk from the far north. When they aren¡¯t battling, they are anxious for good food, drink, and amusement. These warriors are most sought after as hired guards and mercenaries, as their natural size and innate Rage give them extraordinary strength and unparalleled melee skills. They are not likely to be kind to you. Gee, thanks. That¡¯s helpful. Look at me, being sarcastic to a floating box like a moron. You¡¯re welcome. Go talk to the braugs. That is your current quest. Quest? Am I a knight here? Hardly. I heaved a sigh. My head still throbbed like a tiny dwarf was working a hammer and anvil inside of my skull. But what the hell? I¡¯d play along and see how far into the weird this nightmare took me. Standing, I glanced down for the first time. I wore a ruffled shirt that had once been white but now appeared permanently stained tan from sweat and alcohol. The puffy shirt from Seinfeld. Classic. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna be a pirate!¡± You know Seinfeld? The screen didn¡¯t respond. Holy crap. I was going crazy. I shook my head and continued examining my clothing. My pants weren¡¯t really pants at all. What¡¯d they call those things? Breeches? Capris? All I knew was they certainly weren¡¯t comfortable. They ended just above my ankles and were coarse and itchy. The screen¡¯s warning repeated in my mind. What did it mean the wellicks were only different if I took my pants off? I considered peering beneath the fabric to see if anything had changed before thinking better of exposing myself in a room full of strangers. Instead, I continued examining my clothing. But that was it, other than simple leather shoes that covered my feet. Not exactly GQ material here, slick. ¡°Oy!¡± Rarmir barked. I turned back to the bar to find him scowling and pointing at something behind me. ¡°Don¡¯t forget your lute, you numbskull.¡± I followed his finger to the instrument on the sticky, worn bar. I didn¡¯t even know what exactly a lute was. Some sort of woodwind instrument, except this thing had strings like a guitar. That¡¯s a flute, not a lute. Thanks, WikiAnswers. Well, I know how to play a guitar. How hard can it be? It¡¯s your lie. Tell it how you want to. I huffed, then picked up the lute. It was old and used, but it held a certain charm. The crowd of braugs I was apparently meant to entertain tore through a table of unappetizing food Rarmir must¡¯ve laid out for them earlier. None used any utensils; just dirty, nasty hands, all greasy and wet. Suddenly, I noticed my bladder overflowing with all that beer. Was there a bathroom in this bar? Tavern. Whatever, you dumb screen. I took a breath and wondered if I could hold it for roughly an hour. Probably not. I really have to do this, huh? Yes. I sighed again. Awesome. CHAPTER THREE It was easy enough to pick out the braugs¡¯ leader. He was the largest of the bunch and double-fisted a couple of huge tankards of ale. The frothy, golden liquid sloshed all over a huge, black, gangly beard hanging from a head that was a scar-flecked cueball. He looked¡­ familiar. Kurt? No. That¡¯s not possible. Is it? The screen that popped up in response was much smaller than before, only large enough to fit one word that reeked of derision. Nope. It then highlighted the giant of a man just as it had Rarmir the Tavern Owner¡­ NAME: Curr OCCUPATION: Sellsword RACE: Braug (male) SPECIAL ABILITIES: Melee Weapon Combat bonus with all 2-Handed weapons, Tarton¡¯s Rage, Hardened Skin WEAPONS: Steel Dual-Edged Battle Axe Braug is a race? Of course it is, you racist. The big man scowled as I neared. Sensing his hostility, I decided to go for the friendly approach, especially since my head still throbbed, and the last thing I needed was another beating. ¡°Hi.¡± The braug¡ªCurr, if the screen could be believed¡ªgawked, appraising me up and down. ¡°What in Tarton¡¯s Tusks are you?¡± Tarton was the name of an ancient¡ª Not now! I thought as authoritatively as I could manage. Thankfully, it worked, and the screen disappeared. Now I could take in the whole of the colossus with clear vision. ¡°Can you speak?¡± Curr asked. ¡°Uh¡­ hi, I¡¯m Danny.¡± ¡°You are Daniil? The bard?¡± The braug slammed his tankard down on the table, spilling a fair bit of its contents in the process. He belched and I could taste it on the air in front of me. I fought back the sensation to gag when he leaned forward. ¡°Before you speak,¡± he growled, ¡°I would like you to know that I am tired, hungry, and thirsty. So, if you have business with me, then spit it out or I might run you through for mild amusement.¡± I glanced at the massive two-handed battle axe leaning against his table and almost rolled my eyes. Tell me you¡¯ve got a small dick without telling me you¡¯ve got a small dick. He doesn¡¯t have a small dick. ¡°Uh, Rarmir said I might provide some entertainment for you.¡± Then I quickly added, ¡°I sing,¡± so no one got the wrong idea. Curr belched again. His eyes continued to rove over me, obviously sizing me up. ¡°You dance too?¡± one of the braugs shouted. I ignored him. ¡°That lute of yours any good?¡± Curr asked, flicking my instrument. The strings rang out discordantly. I held it up in front of me. ¡°Sure is.¡± I hope¡­ Curr turned to his other party members. ¡°Listen up, you worthless scum. This boy here is going to sing for us.¡± Boy? Geez, dude. I¡¯m in my late 20s. Braugs can live for upwards of three hundred years. You are, to him, in fact, a child. Three hundred years? Either way, I wasn¡¯t some stupid kid. Just wasn¡¯t a good idea to argue with people who looked like they¡¯d killed five people before my alarm went off. And since this big beast of a man reminded me a bit of Biker Kurt, playing nice seemed my smartest option. I unconsciously raised my palm to the spot on my face where there should have been a dent the size of Kurt¡¯s fist. Roars of laughter broke out along with a few taunts. Just like being back at the Heart-Shaped Box. Not quite. The braugs will kill you if you don¡¯t entertain them. Yeah, I kinda got that impression. Thanks for stating the obvious. I returned my attention to the lead braug. ¡°Allow me to entertain you and your brave war party, sir.¡± ¡°Curr,¡± he said. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°You mispronounced my name. It is Curr, not ¡®Sir¡¯. Hard ¡®C¡¯ sound. Do not botch it again.¡± This had to be a bad dream. Dreams did have a tendency to mirror real life, to echo reality in a way that stirred up joys and terrors. That had to be what this was. Someone dragged my drunken, injured ass back home to my bed. Or left me curled up on the floor of the bar, more likely. I exhaled and tried to smile. ¡°Of course, Curr.¡± Curr nodded. ¡°All right, bard. You sing and amuse us.¡± I glanced at the table of food and my stomach growled, despite how gross it looked. Damn, I was seriously hungry for some reason. Did getting walloped in the face make you famished? Before I could give it any more thought, the screen flashed again. OBJECTIVE COMPLETED: You have been hired by the braug leader, Curr. REWARD: Speechcraft! You have gained +1 in Speechcraft. You silver-tongued devil, you. Your Speechcraft is now 9. I¡¯d rather have food. You can¡¯t eat ¡®Speechcraft,¡¯ last I checked. NEW OBJECTIVE: Successfully entertain braugs. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. REWARD: Coin¡­ orrrrr foooooooooooooood. Wiseass. I stepped back and away from Curr. The tavern had a simple wooden stage adjacent to the fireplace, which I believe might¡¯ve been called a hearth in these oldy times. There were no lights. No fog machines. And as I gave the room one last once-over, I decided there was definitely no Trish. I strode over, and after one very small step, mounted the platform that passed for a stage. If Curr stood, I was pretty sure I would still be shorter than him by a full head. So close to the fire, the air felt hot and humid. Doubly so with all these hairy monsters exhaling their booze-laden breath into the already noxious tavern air. They were also either wholly blitzed out of their skulls or partially unconscious. I took a quick gander at my lute. Maybe they¡¯d be too drunk to care about what I sang. A spasm gripped my gut. What in the world was I going to sing? I couldn¡¯t very well trot out my sterling interpretation of ¡°Semi-Charmed Life¡± by Third Eye Blind, could I? They¡¯d cut me to pieces and probably eat me for dinner. I placed my hand on the fretboard. One thing was immediately clear: this wasn¡¯t a guitar. The shape was all wrong and there were a lot more strings. I swore. I might have been damn good with a six-string, but with this? I wasn¡¯t even sure what to do. Would you like to access your Catalog of Songs? Wow, your timing is impeccable. That¡¯s a thing? You could have let me know earlier. Well, would you? Of course! Four song titles I didn¡¯t recognize appeared before my eyes. None of them were by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, that was for sure. How was I supposed to sing any if I didn¡¯t know the words? Curr abruptly cleared his throat, and I snapped back to the moment. Panicking, I picked one at random. That one. ¡°Stones, Bones, and Crones.¡± Call me crazy, but rhymes really get me. As soon as I thought it, a warm sensation flooded my body like I¡¯d just taken a shot of good whiskey. I mindlessly started plucking the strings and the words and melody to a raunchy tune about a virgin dwarf who suddenly found himself in a pickle involving a pair of old succubi came streaming out of my mouth. I had no idea who¡¯d written the song, or how I¡¯d known how it was sung, but I had to give them credit for the lyrics. What¡¯s more, I was seriously surprised by how good I sounded. Don¡¯t misunderstand, I wasn¡¯t good. But at least the chords sounded like chords. The last note rang out. I took a breath, feeling pretty damned stoked about the performance. I¡¯d also never known so many things could rhyme with rock. Unfortunately, the crowd of braugs didn¡¯t share my sentiment. ¡°What in Tarton¡¯s Tusks is a succubi?¡± one of them in the back called out. ¡°Uh¡­¡± I paused. Good question. OBJECTIVE FAILED. Would you like to try again? I frowned. Clearly my skills were above the cultural education of this particular group. Then I saw Curr waving me over and I felt another gut spasm. I stepped down from the stage, my knees wobbling. ¡°Yes, sir?¡± I said. Curr growled. ¡°Are you braindead? I told you it is pronounced with a hard C.¡± He waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Listen. You are far from good. You have a bland voice.¡± ¡°Bland! We used to tour with¡ª¡± He belched. A whiff of it shut me right up. ¡°And your playing is marginal at best,¡± he continued. Marginal. That¡¯s a pretty big word for a¡ª He belched again. ¡°My fellows here are getting restless¡­¡± I gestured toward his crew. ¡°Some of them are actually asleep.¡± Curr nodded. ¡°And trust me, that is not a good thing for you.¡± He leaned closer, and I wrinkled my nose. The guy stank like he hadn¡¯t washed his undercarriage for at least a month. ¡°Now, you are going to play a wedding tune for Fargus and Vulna over there. They were just betrothed after we slaughtered a group of trolls.¡± ¡°They got engaged after killing trolls?¡± I asked. Wait, there are trolls here? And not the internet kind! Curr stared at me blankly. ¡°Can you think of a better time for prenuptials than covered in the entrails of those foul creatures?¡± I could think of at least five thousand better times but instead, I said, ¡°Uh, not really.¡± ¡°Right. So, you get up there and dedicate your next song to them. And make it good or else things are liable to get¡­ broken.¡± ¡°Broken?¡± I gulped. Curr nodded once, then pointed back to the platform. I returned to my singing spot, grateful to finally inhale through my nose without wanting to retch from Curr¡¯s stench. The screen appeared once I was in place, repeating its last message. OBJECTIVE FAILED. Would you like to try again? Duh, obviously. What¡¯s the other choice? Death? This time, the screen remained conspicuously quiet. Unsure what else to do, I turned to look at the¡­ uh, happy couple. Though he was seated, Fargus looked like he stood at least seven feet tall and nearly half that wide. Where his eyebrows should have been was a long scar. He was also missing an ear¡ªwhich might¡¯ve been good for me. And Vulna¡­ I shuddered. She too had scars that scored her face, as if some wicked claw had raked its way down her cheek. Huge jowls hung below her jawline, and her hands, which now gripped both a tankard of ale and a leg of some kind of barely cooked meat, looked as though they could easily handle the massive broadsword slung over the chair behind her. No wonder the braugs drank so much. They had to pass out just to be able to stand the sights and smells of one another. Without thinking, I took a deep breath¡ªinstantly regretting it¡ªand muttered, ¡°Here goes nothing.¡± Then I spoke up. ¡°This next tune is dedicated to Fargus and Vulna, who are celebrating a very happy day.¡± The entire room came alive with hoots and howls. Tankards crashed into the tabletops and boots pounded the floor. Ale spattered onto gnarled wooden planks, yet nobody gave a damn. Uh-oh. My half-asleep crowd was now completely awake and alert, and all staring right at me. You don¡¯t happen to have one about weddings or troll-killing or¡­ anything remotely helpful? The screen flashed. No. I stared down at my lute, sliding my fingers along the neck. How hard could it be to string a few lines together and play a simple melody? It looks like you¡¯re about to improvise. Would you like me to initiate suicide now? Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. I can do this. Good luck. I took another long inhale and started to strum as best I could, then raised my voice to cover the dissonant sound.
¡°There once was a fighter named Fargus, As mighty as any has dared He trod where the shadows loomed longest And killed when others were scared¡­¡±
The screen flashed. You almost rhymed. You have gained +1 in Singing. Your Singing is now 14. A round of cheers rang out. See? In. The. Zone. If only Trish were around to hear it. The braugs listened intently now, so I took another breath and continued.
¡°But alas, mighty Fargus was single, For never throughout the whole land, Could he find someone with which to mingle, With whom he could walk hand-in-hand¡­¡±
Now the cheers turned to playful mockery aimed at poor, lonely Fargus. For a moment, I thought the big man might¡¯ve taken offense, but instead, a tear broke free from his eye as he downed his tankard and slammed it back on the table. ¡°¡¯Tis true! There weren¡¯t none who could be my equal. None! And aye, I was lonely as shite, ye scurrilous dogs!¡± The room erupted in laughter. I chuckled nervously with them as I strummed and prepared for the next verse. Then they all turned back toward the stage.
¡°Then one fine day, mighty Fargus, Gazed upon a true¡­ beauty.¡±
I swallowed. The words in my head were becoming muddled, fear of screwing up flooding through it. Somehow, my playing became even worse but kept on.
¡°With hair like gold and lips like sugar?¡±
The words were coming out like questions now.
¡°Fargus knew he¡¯d at last found his¡­ booty.¡±
A few guffaws broke out at this, but the rest of the crowd started murmuring among themselves. Vulna frowned in my direction. I probably should¡¯ve ended the song there, but stupid me, I kept going.
¡°¡®I am Fargus,¡¯ said the strong mighty braug ¡®I kill and pillage with ease. I promise to love and to cherish you. And never give you a disease.¡¯¡±
Crap. Where did that come from? I glanced out at the crowd. Fargus stared down at his crotch with a quizzical expression on his gnarled face. No turning back now.
¡°¡®The woman before you needs no man, Here stands the one they call Vulna, I swing swords and axes with glee. Last night I ripped out a man¡¯s¡­
Oh. My. God. What in the world rhymed with Vulna?
¡°¡®¡­ ulna!¡¯¡±
Muttering broke out all over the room. ¡°What in Tarton¡¯s name is an ulna?¡± someone roared from the audience. ¡°Is that like a cock?¡± I stopped playing and hurriedly pointed to my arm. ¡°It¡¯s a bone, actually. Right here.¡± More murmurs. My skin crawled. I should¡¯ve said vulva. But men don¡¯t have them. And you can¡¯t pull them out, can you? I, uh. Don¡¯t think they liked it. Gee, thanks! I panicked worse than ever. Sweat poured down my back, pooling in my underwear. It was then that I realized I wasn¡¯t wearing underwear. Vulna looked none too pleased with the song. Fargus was still peering at his crotch and talking to it, apparently. ¡°Should¡¯a been a cock,¡± someone else said. ¡°That would¡¯a been a much better thing to rip off.¡± Someone else laughed at that. My throat felt dry. ¡°No, it couldn¡¯t have been that. It doesn¡¯t rhyme, you see¡ª¡± Stop talking. Curr eyed me, then got to his feet a bit unsteadily. He held up one hand to quiet the room, walked over, and wrapped one of his beefy paws around my shoulders. I was right. He still towered over me. Small victory in the light of certain death. ¡°I think I speak for everyone when I say¡­ Tarton¡¯s Tusks, that was terrible!¡± His arm tightened around me, and I wanted nothing more than to be very far away from this tavern, dream or not. ¡°Since our bard friend here has introduced us all to the word ¡®ulna,¡¯¡± Curr said, ¡°I think it only appropriate that we see how easily one rips out. And possibly some other bones of his as well.¡± ¡°Now, hang on a sec¡­¡± I complained. With perfect timing, the screen added: OBJECTIVE FAILED. Would you like to try again? CHAPTER FOUR ¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± I took a moment¡ªwhich was all I had¡ªand gathered myself. I tried to pull my arm away from Curr in hopes of preserving it a bit longer, but he had a grip like the Jaws of Life. ¡°I meant no disrespect. Really,¡± I said. ¡°After all, I thought as braugs, you guys would appreciate the violence. Am I right?¡± Curr still squeezed my arm like a stress ball, glaring down at me. He¡¯d have made Andre the Giant look like a green bean. ¡°We do appreciate violence,¡± he said. ¡°And Vulna can certainly tear a man apart with ease. But the manner of your song left us feeling a little like we had been disrespected. We do not like being disrespected.¡± ¡°Rip off his arms, Curr!¡± Fargus roared. I did my best impression of a puppy dog begging not to get kicked¡ªor in this case, have my bones extracted. And here I thought getting punched by Kurt had been bad. By some stroke of luck or fortune, Curr raised his other hand. ¡°Now, now¡­ perhaps we are a bit hasty with that decision.¡± ¡°Thank you. Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°I was only trying to entertain, like you asked. I meant no disrespect.¡± Curr frowned. ¡°With a performance like that? You would fail to procure a job serenading the deaf.¡± Well, that was cruel. It was also true. ¡°It was an especially awful series of notes there at the end,¡± Curr continued. ¡°Do you not understand keys and scales?¡± ¡°Look, I¡¯m kind of new at this,¡± I argued. That was the truth. I still didn¡¯t even know where I was or what I was doing there. Not to mention I had no idea how to properly play a lute, which made inventing a song to sing along with all the more difficult. However, I knew one thing from my career as a performer: don¡¯t piss off the locals. Curr pointed to my lute. ¡°Looks like you have been in possession of that for some time.¡± I followed his gaze to the well-worn instrument. It had a small hole like Willy Nelson¡¯s guitar, and most of the paint had worn off. ¡°I¡­ uh¡­ got it secondhand.¡± ¡°You what?¡± ¡°Used,¡± I explained. ¡°It was used when I got it.¡± ¡°By someone better than you, no doubt.¡± Just then, my stomach rumbled so loudly, even Curr noticed. He squinted. ¡°When is the last time you partook of a meal?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± The screen flashed. Three days. Three days? What the actual¡ª? Almost Four. I sighed. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, apparently.¡± ¡°And yet you had enough coin for a drink?¡± Curr said. He got even closer to me, which was like being downwind of a port-a-potty. ¡°Perhaps you should have spent that meager earning on a leg of lamb. Or lute lessons.¡± ¡°Oof. I can¡¯t stand the taste of lamb,¡± I said without thinking. ¡°Don¡¯t like lamb?¡± Fargus snatched the meat from his fianc¨¦e¡¯s hand and threw it at me. The leg of lamb hit my left arm and bounced to the floor. ¡°You want to eat, little man? There¡¯s your meal.¡± I looked down at the meat on the gross tavern floor. It was already covered in dirt and God knows what else, given the lack of cleanliness of the entire room. Curr pointed. ¡°You hit him in his ulna!¡± At that, the whole crew of braugs broke out in a fit, slamming tables and shoving one another. When it all settled down, Curr said, ¡°That will be our payment for your¡­ services tonight. I suggest you accept that small token, because Fargus gets upset when people take advantage of his generosity. And I know you would not want to do that.¡± I nodded. ¡°Of course, of course.¡± I bent and picked up the already gnawed upon leg of lamb using my index finger and thumb. ITEMS OBTAINED: Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Leg of lamb (¡°cooked¡± sort of), origin questionable, two small flies. I peered closer. There really were two flies on it, battling for meat. I shooed them away, but they just flew for a second and returned to duking it out. Fargus chuckled. ¡°Aye, take a bite. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find it as delicious as we did.¡± I swallowed hard. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not so hungry at the moment.¡± Then my stomach betrayed me again, launching into a digestive orchestration that managed to silence the entire room until they were all staring at me with judgmental glares. I had no choice. I steeled myself and brought the leg to my lips. Closing my eyes¡ªnot sure why¡ªI bit into it and nearly heaved. The only thing keeping me going was the threat of dismemberment if I didn¡¯t manage to choke this down. What kind of sick dream is this? Maybe I am dead. You¡¯re not dead. So, I¡¯m dreaming? No response. Of course. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just lovely, thank you,¡± I said to Fargus as I forced it down my throat. HUNGER: 30% You¡¯re not going to last much longer without more food. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯ll be going now,¡± I said through clenched teeth. ¡°You all have a lovely night.¡± ¡°Not so fast,¡± Curr said. My stomach was already reeling, and I just wanted to get away so I could vomit in peace. ¡°What now?¡± He extended his massive hand. ¡°The lute. I am afraid we have a duty to render it¡­ dead. There is no way, in good conscience, I can let you go back out into the world, torturing people with what you call music. Hand it over.¡± ¡°Really? But it didn¡¯t do anything wrong.¡± ¡°It could be used as a weapon of torture in your hands.¡± Curr¡¯s fingers closed over the instrument¡¯s neck, and he snatched it away from me. Even if I tried, it¡¯s not like I could¡¯ve stopped him. ¡°Take your meal and go,¡± he said. ¡°I suggest you do not try to play for braugs again. It is only because we have had our fill of killing that you are even walking out of here with your life.¡± I started backing away slowly, fearful my guts were going to turn inside out at any moment. Curr raised the lute before the crowd. ¡°And now¡­¡± He smushed it between his hands, crunching it into shards. ¡°The threat is over.¡± Fists slammed on the tables, and braugs clasped arms in victory. That was now my second instrument destroyed lately. He wasn¡¯t even wearing gloves. I¡¯m not sure why I worried about him getting a splinter as he removed his hands and the pieces tumbled to the floor. Then he picked up a couple of them and handed them out to be used as toothpicks. I hurried away, the leg of lamb still dangling in one hand. Behind me, the braugs celebrated jovially. Rarmir scowled at me as I passed. ¡°Another man might¡¯ve lost his life there tonight. You¡¯re a damned fool, Daniil.¡± ¡°Danny,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s Danny.¡± Rarmir waved me off. ¡°Out of my establishment. I don¡¯t need angry braugs asking me why I put up with the likes of a talentless bard in my place. Especially one who tries to fleece my customers out of their hard-won coin. Now get.¡± He stabbed his finger at the door. I didn¡¯t need to be told twice. I¡¯d learned long ago to feel the tide of a crowd turning. I missed Trish and her trophy-wife friends. They appreciated me at least. ¡°I¡¯m not talentless,¡± I said as I found the exit¡ªa big, chunky wooden door¡ªand pushed out. No knob to turn or anything. It was dark outside, the moon covered by thick clouds. The only illumination came from torches here and there. I was on some sort of cobbled street, the silhouettes of low structures in every direction. No bright Taco Bell sign where I could get some late-night grub. Not like I even had the couple of bucks for that. The screen popped up. CURRENT LOCATION: Nahal, Main Street. I made it three steps before leaning on the tavern wall and gagging. I expected my stomach to empty all over Main Street, which in reality wasn¡¯t much more than a muddy track, but nothing came out. Lightning flashed overhead. Great. Now it¡¯s gonna rain. Imminently. The only saving grace was, as the first few drops fell, I was able to wash out my mouth and spit the bad taste to the side of the road. That relief soon turned to worry. It was cold and the rain was even colder. Helluva way to end the night. Would be nice if I had a map. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m not a GPS. Fantastically unhelpful. I examined the street. To my right, it was dark. To my left, even darker. Fog billowed in the distance regardless of which direction I chose. So, taking a right turn, I wandered aimlessly down the street. The stone and wood buildings clustered on either side of the street started to thin out. It looked like a set from Game of Thrones as I passed all manner of shops and market stalls, each one closed for the night. Save for a few houses atop a hill to my left, the only place with lights on¡ªso to speak¡ªwas the tavern behind me and a small inn at the edge of town. Too bad I had no money. I would have to find somewhere safe and, hopefully, dry to sleep. As luck would have it, I spotted a stable attached to the inn on the northern side¡ªokay, fine, who was I kidding? I had no idea which direction north was, or if there even was a north in this weird-ass world. I paused, waiting for the screen to inform me of the cardinal directions, but when no response came, I made my way to the stable. An overhang would shield me from the rain and elements, and there was a pile of hay in one corner I could curl up in. Despite the weirdness of whatever was going on, maybe falling asleep, buried in some soft hay, would make things right. Maybe I¡¯d wake up, safe and sound back in the real world. At least for now, rest would be grand. And I had no doubt the stable would smell better than those unwashed braugs. It¡¯s now pouring. Master of the obvious. Because I couldn¡¯t possibly extrapolate that valuable piece of information from my soaked clothes. Two horses turned toward me and whinnied softly. ¡°Sorry about this, guys,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m just here for the night while I figure out what the heck is going on.¡± I half-expected the horses to talk back, but they simply snorted and turned away. The clouds had all but blotted out the moon now, and the blackness grew so thick, I was forced to feel around with my foot once under the covering. Locating a tall hay bale, I settled in. It wasn¡¯t the Tempur-Pedic mattress I still owed two grand on, but it was pretty comfy. I shifted this way and that until I had most of the support I needed and then leaned back. For a moment, I considered trying the lamb again, but couldn¡¯t stomach it. I held on to it anyway, knowing if I woke up hungry enough, I might then have the courage to eat it. Overhead, the pitter-patter of rain drummed along the roof. I was asleep before I even knew what was happening. CHAPTER FIVE Something tickled my subconscious. And not like that one time Trish tied me up and used a feather to tickle me either. This was more¡­ alarming. Okay, fine, that was a dream. Trish and I never hooked up, much to my chagrin. The worst part? I really thought the other night was going to be the night. But then¡­ Kurt. The titillation at hand turned out to be a noise that was out of time with the natural rhythm of rainfall still peppering the roof. I couldn¡¯t quite place it at first. Then, after a few seconds awake, I realized it seemed almost like someone chewing on something. Gross, smacking, slurping, wet sounds. My eyes popped open. A fleeting hope passed through me that I was awakening from a bad dream by someone in the Heart-Shaped Box chomping on bar-nuts and back in my world. Or better yet, my bed. My home. Somewhere familiar. Except, that would be weird if someone was eating in my bed. Okay, I¡¯d prefer the bar. As ever, my luck continued to fail me. I was in a barn. With an N. At some point in the night, I¡¯d covered myself with some of the hay to ward off the chill. I glanced around, eyes blurry, brain hazy. Oh, it was just something gnawing on my arm. Wait¡ªwhat? I shot bolt upward and saw the huddled form of¡­ something bent over my arm. The leg of lamb! It was still tight in my grip. Even as my mind reconciled with the situation, that sloppy sucking sound and loud munching magnified. And someone¡¯s cold, clammy hand held my arm firmly in place. What the hell has my arm? A pale blue screen popped up, reminding me that the screen existed and clearly had pertinent information for me. HAG. Dick. No. You¡¯re looking at a hag. She was highlighted in blue¡­ NAME: Unknown OCCUPATION: Hag RACE: Unknown (Female¡­ probably) SPECIAL ABILITIES: Unknown, and you probably don¡¯t want to know. WEAPONS: Same as above What the hell is a hag? I asked all this while watching the haggard-looking thing and feeling its disgusting drool all over my hand and forearm. HAGS: Magical, sentient creatures who typically appear as wizened old crones. Thriving¡ªor trying to¡ªthey normally inhabit areas just on the edge of civilization. Though not a requirement to be old and ugly, they normally are. Most hags are able to cast spells and work various forms of sorcery from middling to great effect. I jerked my arm free, pulling the leg of lamb away also. ¡°Noooooo,¡± a voice moaned, sounding physically pained. I guess now might be a good time to remind you that you¡¯re unarmed, and relatively scrawny. Too bad your sarcasm is utterly worthless in a fight. Would you like to try sweet-talking the hag? I¡¯d like to try wringing your neck. I was interrupted by the sight of the hag spinning toward me. Instinctively, I scrambled backward like a crab into the inn¡¯s exterior wall. ¡°Who are you?¡± I stammered. Having apparently ventured outside of the ¡°highlighting zone,¡± the blue glow vanished, replaced by a putrid green light illuminating the small space around us. Likewise, the effect washed over the visage of a horribly disfigured crone dressed in layers of filthy rags. Her face looked like an old, withered map where warts and pockmarks stood as landmarks, but her golden eyes sparkled despite her grim appearance. ¡°I am Phlegm. And I am hungry.¡± She jabbed at the leg of lamb with one crooked finger. ¡°I have traveled for many days without sustenance. Give me that so I may feast.¡± I raised the leg of lamb. It looked utterly pathetic, and yet¡­ ¡°This is literally all that I have in this world,¡± I told her. Phlegm cocked her head. ¡°What path in life would grant a man naught but a leg of animal flesh to make his way upon it?¡± I tried to come up with a witty retort, but the truth was, I had no idea. I was still trying to figure out why I was even in this world. ¡°I was a¡­ bard,¡± I stammered. ¡°From a faraway land. I, uh¡­ I played and sang songs. I¡¯m sorry, did you say your name was Phlegm?¡± At that, what passed for eyebrows rose on Phlegm¡¯s face. She stood and licked her horribly chapped lips, an act that made my stomach lurch. Had I said something wrong? ¡°A faraway land, you say?¡± she asked. ¡°Uh. Yeah.¡± Though my response was reluctant with her towering over me, I nodded. ¡°A bard?¡± Her head cocked. ¡°A musician and singer.¡± ¡°You lie to me,¡± she snapped. ¡°Bards have instruments. You have none. Who would call themselves a bard and yet have no simple thing with which to make music?¡± ¡°True enough,¡± I said. ¡°But I was a bard. Just not a very good one, apparently.¡± ¡°Tell me more,¡± Phlegm demanded. ¡°I¡­ hmmm. Well, my lute was destroyed earlier this evening¡ªlast night?¡ªby a crazed group of drunken braugs who smelled worse than this stable. They didn¡¯t appreciate my¡­ style of music.¡± The screen flashed. NEW OBJECTIVE: Make a bargain with the hag. REWARD: ??? I frowned, which I¡¯d been doing a lot lately. How the hell do I do that? Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Hey, I can¡¯t give you all the answers. I¡¯d settle for a few. Phlegm cackled. ¡°A bard so bad that his instrument got destroyed by mindless barbarians. That is indeed a conundrum for you.¡± Her eyes flitted toward the leg of lamb. ¡°And yet, you still manage to possess an item of great value to me.¡± ¡°This thing?¡± I held up the meat, chunks of its flesh hanging by strands. ¡°I have not eaten for many days,¡± the hag repeated. ¡°That makes two of us.¡± I wasn¡¯t counting what little I¡¯d choked down earlier against my will. ¡°Give it here,¡± Phlegm said. ¡°I will gladly devour it.¡± I regarded the leg of lamb. It was revolting, but it was still mine. Sooner or later, I¡¯d have to eat something. Just that thought alone nearly called back the puke. ¡°I have to keep it for myself,¡± I said. Then, softer, added, ¡°Not that I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡± ¡°You are young,¡± she replied. ¡°Too young, some would say. You can survive without much. But I require more. Give it here.¡± She lurched for me, but I drew back. Oh, and guess what? She reeked. Par for the course. Not like the raw sewage stench of Curr, mind you. More like that sort of rotting plant life by ponds and creeks. Like something had died recently and hadn¡¯t been washed away completely. What was it about this world that everything stank in equally offensive ways? I really have to make a bargain with this creature? Yup. Enjoy yourself, kid. What if she wants my¡­ body? Not even she is that desperate. I swallowed. Nothing ever came easy. Our eyes met, and I was instantly reminded of the time when I was a kid and my mother brought me to visit Gram in the retirement home. Food fragments hung about her lips and chin. Some kind of eye goop trickled down¡ªthat might¡¯ve been infected. Her hair was matted with muck. As my gaze passed across Phlegm¡¯s warts, an idea came to me. Bargaining was a two-way street. ¡°You ask me to give you the only source of food I have,¡± I said. ¡°What would you offer in return?¡± Phlegm¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Would you make a bargain with this old woman? Would you give her a meal in exchange for something that you desire or require?¡± I hesitated. This had to be played right or else I¡¯d fail another objective. And I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d always receive a second chance. ¡°I suppose it would depend,¡± I said, dangling the temptation before her in the form of a rotted carcass. After a moment of silence, Phlegm clapped. It scared the hell out of me. I think I even jumped. ¡°Let us do it. Let us strike a bargain. And then I will feast, and you may return to your slumber.¡± I smiled like a gameshow host. ¡°What would you offer me for this glorious leg of lamb?¡± I held the lamb high, feeling like an idiot. Phlegm stared at it, saliva already dripping from her mouth. I noticed the meat had a sickly green slime on it and couldn¡¯t decide if it was from Phlegm or just the natural spoiling process doing its thing. Either way, there was no way I was gonna eat something so disgusting. The fact that it looked appealing to anyone, even her, was beyond me. ¡°A bard with no instrument is no bard at all,¡± Phlegm said. ¡°For my part, I will replace the lute that was destroyed earlier this evening.¡± I tried desperately to recall anything I knew about bards. They seemed kind of lame. I guess that meant I sounded kind of lame. After a moment, I said, ¡°It¡¯s not only the instrument that makes a bard, but an ability to weave a tapestry of words and songs and woo an audience with them.¡± Phlegm cackled again. ¡°So, you doubt your abilities as well?¡± I heard Curr¡¯s voice in my head again, telling me how awful I was in no uncertain terms. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that I can admit they may not exactly be my strongest attribute at the moment.¡± Phlegm frowned. ¡°You ask a steep price for that sliver of meat.¡± ¡°Sliver? There¡¯s so much juicy meat here.¡± I swallowed back a gag. ¡°More than enough to sustain you for several days. That alone would be worth the price.¡± ¡°You strike a fine deal, young bard. Woo them, you shall.¡± Phlegm¡¯s hands waved in front of me, then almost seemed to dance as she spoke in low tones, muttering some sort of phrase three times before finally speaking to me again. ¡°Give me the leg of lamb and desire shall come to fruition before the sun sets once more.¡± I scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s it? You expect me to hand this over without seeing anything in exchange?¡± Phlegm spat a gob of mucus at me, which fortunately missed. ¡°Foolish man. You think I can make something appear out of thin air when I am so weakened with hunger? Even one such as I cannot perform so grand a feat. But believe what I tell you¡ªwhat you seek shall be yours. Even now, the gods conspire to deliver it into your hands. The instrument will find you.¡± ¡°And my¡­ singing?¡± What really sucked was my whole life I¡¯d believed myself to be a fine singer. Even paid the bulk of my bills doing so. My band opened for some pretty big acts back in the day. I don¡¯t know what happened, but here, I sounded like a hog being run over by a tractor. In Willistown, crooning some old cover-tunes was enough for my usual crowd of cougars. I was young, virile, and had nice hair too. Maybe they just didn¡¯t care what I sounded like. No. That wasn¡¯t true. This place was just getting to me. Phlegm extended an open palm and wagged her spindly, twisted fingers. They reminded me of a tree branch in the dead of winter. A piece of loose skin stretched between two of them like a duck¡¯s foot. ¡°First, the lamb,¡± she said. I reluctantly handed the food over, and Phlegm snatched it away before I could change my mind. She fell upon it like a ravenous wolf. For the next several minutes, my ears were assaulted by the gruesome sounds of Phlegm the Hag devouring the leg. When she was full, when I thought she was finally done, she broke open the bone and sucked at the marrow from the bottom, tucking whatever scraps were left away in her cloak. I covered my mouth with my arm, dry heaving, and regretting losing my bargaining chip before guaranteeing she¡¯d fulfill her promises. ¡°Okay, I kept my end of the bargain.¡± ¡°You have indeed.¡± Her face was freshly slick with animal grease, the green light that continued to illuminate the barn enhancing the oily gloss. ¡°Ugh, and here I am, fresh out of wet-naps.¡± Phlegm clearly had no clue what I was referring to. Martha Stewart would¡¯ve soiled herself if she ever saw this. Once again, the hag waved her hand and muttered some sort of incantation into the night air. She reached into the depths of her rags and produced a small vial of liquid as green as the light surrounding us. ¡°When¡ªand only when¡ªthe first part of your bargain finds its way to you, drink this,¡± she said, offering it to me. I took it like it was a sample of her urine and held it up to the meager light. It seemed to pulse with some sort of energy. ITEM OBTAINED: Vial of Musical Aptitude. Maybe now you won¡¯t suck. ¡°You want me to drink this?¡± I asked, incredulous. Phlegm cocked her head and stared at me. ¡°You ask stupid questions. Of course, you must drink it. How else will you become that which you desire? The potion will give you the skill that you seek. But only when you have received the first part.¡± ¡°The instrument you promised,¡± I said. ¡°What will happen if I drink it before then?¡± ¡°Bad things,¡± she said in a more than ominous tone. ¡°Okay, so when I get that, then I drink the potion.¡± Phlegm smiled and revealed rows of sharpened teeth. ¡°Yesssssss. First the one, then the other. And finally, the third.¡± ¡°The third?¡± ¡°Everything happens in threes,¡± Phlegm said. ¡°It is the way¡ªthe only way¡ªof the gods. Magic once given returns thrice. Gratitude is that which is sought. Goodness imparted does likewise. You have helped an old woman on this night, and so we have struck a bargain.¡± OBJECTIVE COMPLETED: You have made a bargain with the hag. You have gained +1 in Bartering. Your Bartering is now 6. That might not have been the best idea. But you said¡­ If I said to jump off a cliff, would you? NEW OBJECTIVE: Procure a new instrument. REWARD: A new instrument No crap. ¡°Okay then,¡± I said to Phlegm, frustrated. ¡°Before tomorrow night. That¡¯s what you said, isn¡¯t it?¡± She nodded. ¡°Before the sun sets once more.¡± ¡°Are those different things?¡± ¡°Before the sun sets once more,¡± she repeated. ¡°It will be as I foretold. Then the second. And then¡ª¡± ¡°The third. Yeah, I got that part. But what is the third? How will I know?¡± Phlegm continued wearing that putrid smile. I swore I would have nightmares about those crooked tooth-daggers until my death bed. ¡°All things in three,¡± she said. ¡°Three is the way. The only way for those like me. And you will discover it soon enough when you search within.¡± She licked her lips and rose, her rags whispering around her ankles. ¡°And now, I will continue on my way, having been sated by your bargain.¡± ¡°Really? But it¡¯s pouring outside.¡± Are you inviting her to spend the night? I panicked as Phlegm turned, hoping she hadn¡¯t taken it that way. ¡°I mind not the storm that rages. As the meat of that lamb gave me strength, so too does the wrath of nature.¡± She glanced back over her shoulder. ¡°Good fortune to you, young man. And remember the three.¡± With that, she stepped out into the stormy night. I blinked once and she was gone, along with the eldritch green light that she¡¯d somehow produced. I raised the small vial to my eye-line. Remarkably, unlike everything else in this Godforsaken¡ªor gods forsaken, it seemed¡ªworld, it was utterly clean. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m here for my drug test,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°Got my sample right here.¡± I shook the bottle, and it tumbled out of my hand and clattered in the dirt. I swore and swept it up, thankful I wasn¡¯t on hard ground. Was I insane for even considering drinking anything given to me by a strange hag? Imagine trusting a vial from some random hobo back home. Hello, accidental overdose. Sighing, I tucked it into my pocket. It wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d lost anything of any value, and who knew what Phlegm might¡¯ve done to me had I denied her. Maybe would have turned me into lunch with those teeth¡­ I shuddered before turning over to try and get back to sleep. Then I rolled onto my back, worried something else might sneak up on me. Sleep would not come easy. CHAPTER SIX Sleep came easier than expected. I must¡¯ve been more exhausted than I¡¯d realized. Chirping birds and a brilliant blue sky greeted me when I awoke just after dawn. It would¡¯ve been a nice start to the morning, if not for a sudden urge in the pit of my stomach leaning me over to one side where I vomited everywhere. Ugh. I felt like crap. At least I¡¯d only puked. Getting the runs in a place that didn¡¯t look like they knew what toilet paper was would have been much, much worse. That damnable blue box splattered itself across my tear-smeared vision. CURRENT HEALTH: 65% (Food Poisoning) Good job. You ate rancid food. Your belly is less empty, but you are sick. You¡¯re lucky you only had a bite. The effect should wear off shortly. Seems about right. I knew that leg of lamb wasn¡¯t good. What clued you in? Yeah, well you weren¡¯t exactly offering filet mignon last night. Correction. Fargus wasn¡¯t offering filet mignon. Whatever. Listen up, you worthless box. I¡¯m starving and I have no money. So, if you have any ideas on how to correct that situation, you could go ahead and share them. Because, you know, I¡¯m in some weird world, with absolutely nothing except for some vial of green goo, that I apparently have to wait to drink. The screen didn¡¯t respond. Figured. And what about Phlegm? She was as hideous as a sixty-something Karen full of Botox and Bud Light. Old and weak¡ªfood poisoning might kill her. Then again, maybe not. She seemed more accustomed to working with¡­ I dunno¡­ sickness? It didn¡¯t make any sense, but I figured if she was traipsing about the town dressed in a schmatte, she might not really care about whether or not the lamb was rotten. Me on the other hand¡­ My mouth tasted like butt. I needed to rinse. There¡¯s a puddle over there. I¡¯m not drinking out of a puddle. What am I, an animal? Well, you did just sleep in a stable. I¡¯ll survive until I can find something in a mug or glass or even a horn. Suit yourself. THIRST LEVEL: Parched I felt awful and was uneasy about my meeting with the hag. Hell, maybe it wasn¡¯t the leg of lamb, after all. Maybe just being so close to Phlegm had poisoned me somehow? I said food poisoning, not hag poisoning. Yeah, yeah. Okay. I get it. Hey, 68%? I¡¯m not drunk anymore. That should count for something, right? I don¡¯t make the rules. That got me thinking about something Phlegm had said. The gods were preparing to help me. How many gods exist here? Pyruun citizens worship many gods and goddesses, including, but not limited to Ludos, God of War, Fre, the Goddess of Light and Shadow, Baruu, God of Summer¡¯s Flame, Wokaaner, God of the Emptiness and Void, and Prakuma, the Goddess of Death. Is that all? Not remotely. Shall I continue? No, that¡¯s okay. I felt pretty dumb, conversing with whatever this thing was in my own head, but I had to admit, it was nice to have company in such a bizarre place. Still hoped to snap out of this and find myself back in Willistown, except more and more, I was losing faith it would happen. I can¡¯t remember ever sleeping while dreaming, not to mention the myriad other things I¡¯d experienced over the past twenty-four hours. I¡¯d been so distracted with the screen, I kind of forgot I was walking. Back on the main road, I came across a set of small footprints that led off into the wild woods on the¡­ western(?) periphery of the town. The hazy peaks of several mountains rose in the distance, and I got the sense that if I followed the tracks, they would eventually bring me to them. No doubt, the footprints belonged to Phlegm. I could tell by the way they dragged like some zombie from the Walking Dead. Though there were other, more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. NEW OBJECTIVE: Obtain food. REWARD: Food. Duh. I sighed. You don¡¯t actually have to tell me that. Believe it or not, I¡¯m pretty good at figuring out when I need to eat. And I currently wasn¡¯t hungry. My stomach was still knotted from the food poisoning. You¡¯ll feel better, and then return to being starving. I said I know how it works. I gradually lumbered back to the center of Nahal, taking my time since that seemed to be all I was in control of. And wouldn¡¯t you know it, as my feet sloshed across the wet mud of what seemed like the town center, the screen was right. CURRENT HEALTH: 70% Effects from food poisoning have worn off. You are starving. I was, indeed. Nausea was promptly replaced by a hunger pang. Sensations in this world sure did progress aggressively. Townsfolk went about their daily chores, all dressed in medieval-style clothing. One of which was a baker carrying his goods down the path, and he seemed like a potential opportunity. I fell into step with him, noting his obvious girth. Eating well had apparently never been an issue for him. He had a white beard, and flour dusted across his face and apron. Then I realized his beard was actually red, and was just also coated in flour. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. In an instant, he began glowing that blue-white glow¡­ NAME: Mork OCCUPATION: Baker RACE: Wellick SPECIAL ABILITIES: Cream pastries that¡¯ll make you cream. WEAPONS: Probably a rolling pin. That¡¯s gross. Besides, they can¡¯t be that good. BET. I gave Mork the baker a cheery greeting. ¡°Hello!¡± The man looked me up and down and I could tell he wasn¡¯t impressed. Couldn¡¯t blame him either. I wasn¡¯t all that much to look at, especially not after sleeping on hay and puking everywhere. ¡°I got nothing to give ye, beggar,¡± he said. ¡°Now leave me be.¡± I pretended to be shocked. ¡°A beggar? Me? No, good sir, I would implore you not to think of me as such. I am a bard, gifted with the skill of spinning yarns and singing tunes to entertain the masses.¡± May as well embrace the role I was playing, I figured. Mork studied me again. ¡°Masses? Pfft. Where¡¯s yer instrument then¡­ bard?¡± Balls. ¡°I, uh, was regrettably waylaid last eve and it was destroyed by the sort of hooligans one would hope never to find themselves in the company of. Alas, I am left with my voice alone.¡± The baker grunted. ¡°Fine. Why don¡¯t¡¯cha sing me a ditty, then, and perhaps, if it¡¯s any good, I¡¯ll throw ye a few crusts as thanks.¡± ¡°A man can hardly sustain themselves upon mere crusts, my good sir. A few coins may well be a better option.¡± Mork shook his head. ¡°I have scant few meself. Why d¡¯ya think I¡¯m selling this lot? Are me loaves not good enough for the likes of ye? C¡¯mon now, give me a tune as we plod.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± The prospect of only being paid in crusts did little for my pride, but the gnawing in my stomach was content with the proposal. I cleared my throat. Oh, man. You¡¯re not really going to try improvising again, are you? I¡¯ll do better today. No doubt. It would be hard to envision a worse performance than last night. You know, you could offer up some helpful advice every now and again. You¡¯re right. Don¡¯t suck. How¡¯s that? Unreal. I took a breath and started singing.
¡°On the road one fine morning Strolled a baker and a bard The smell of fresh bread The taste of warm lard¡ª¡±
¡°I don¡¯t use any lard in me recipes,¡± Mork the baker interrupted. ¡°Well, except perhaps in the sweets and confections. But me bread don¡¯t have none.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not customary to interrupt when one is singing,¡± I said. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a stupid song. Sing something else.¡± Would you like to access your Catalog of Songs? ¡°No, shut up.¡± ¡°What¡¯d ye say to me?¡± the baker said, stopping mid-step. Frustration got the best of me, and I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d answered the screen out loud. ¡°Not you,¡± I said, bowing. Why the hell was I bowing? ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking to you.¡± ¡°Then who was ye talking to? Only me here, lad. Now if ye can¡¯t be cordial, I¡ª¡± ¡°No, no. Seriously. Okay. Fine. A new song? Here we go.¡± I took a deep breath and started again.
¡°Do you know the muffin man the muffin man, the muffin man Do you know the muffin man who lives on Dreury Lane.¡±
I continued as one would expect until the song was done. ¡°So, what do you think?¡± I asked. Mork sighed. ¡°Weren¡¯t the rousing ditty I had in mind. Was looking for something, I dunno, more heroic? Of places far off and heroes long lost? Besides, this is Main Street, not whatever you called it. This is boring stuff yer singing about.¡± ¡°That song¡¯s actually about a serial killer, I¡¯ll have you know. Nothing more exciting than that.¡± ¡°Serial what now? Alright, alright. The song was boring, but your voice was¡­ not bad. Wasn¡¯t good neither. Ye sure yer a bard?¡± I thought my advice was helpful. Did you not understand it? Shut up and bring up the catalog. Ya think? The same six songs appeared in front of my eyes. One popped out at me and it sure as hell wasn¡¯t the one I¡¯d sung last night. That one. As I was about to sing a song called T¡¯was Morn in the Eve, the baker said, ¡°Know what? How about a dance instead. Ye dance, right?¡± ¡°Well, not re¡ª¡± ¡°Dance nice for me and I¡¯ll give ye a whole pastry. How¡¯s that sound?¡± ¡°Dance?¡± I asked with trepidation. I¡¯ve never danced before in my life. I didn¡¯t even go to prom in high school. You heard the man. Dance, monkey. I¡¯m not a stripper. I¡¯m not just going to dance because some dude tells me to. Oh. Silly me. I thought you were hungry? And that, folks, is how bad life choices are made. HUNGER LEVEL: Dangerous Dangerous? You haven¡¯t eaten properly in days, Danny. This is how the world works. Perhaps a Snickers bar? I started to ask if they really had those here, but Mork the baker was getting restless. ¡°Ye gonna entertain me, or should I continue me delivery?¡± he asked. ¡°These boxes are getting heavy.¡± ¡°Got anything with cream inside?¡± Hahahaha. ¡°Ye¡¯ll get what ye get and ye¡¯ll like it,¡± Mork said. ¡°Alright, okay. Dance¡­¡± I thought of the only dance I could. In my head, I sang the Macarena and began the steps. Both hands out. Then flipped them. Crossed my arms. I felt like an idiot. Absolutely must¡¯ve looked like one too. When I got to the part where I shook my hips, the baker had had enough. ¡°Stop, stop, stop!¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll give ye something to eat just to get ye to stop.¡± He set the boxes down, reached into one, and tossed something glossy and sugar-coated at me, mumbling about ¡°the worst bard he¡¯d ever seen¡± as he retrieved his goods and left me standing there in the middle of the street with a few of Nahal¡¯s citizens staring at me in abject horror. ITEM OBTAINED: Pastry. If it tastes weird, don¡¯t worry. The baker has cats. I tore a chunk free and started eating it. Then I called after him, ¡°Thank you for your patronage, my good sir. I wish you well.¡± OBJECTIVE COMPLETED: You¡¯ve found food. It was sugary, sweet, and the cat hair was fibrous. Be careful. Diabetes exists here too. CURRENT HEALTH: 82% HUNGER LEVEL: Acceptable The pastry was soft, warm, and doughy. Different from breakfast desserts back in my world, and somehow better. More wholesome. It filled my stomach as I delved deeper into the town center. Then I worried it really did have cat hair in it and that was what was so filling. As good as it was, it wouldn¡¯t be enough to sustain me for very long. NEW OBJECTIVE: Obtain a heartier meal. REWARD: Food. Duh. A hearty meal. Right. Like some meat¡ªbut not lamb. Something solid. Protein. That sort of thing. Question was, how? The screen offered no advice, but it didn¡¯t need to, the answer obvious. With money of course! No matter the world, money talked. I wasn¡¯t sure if barding paid well¡ªit sure as hell didn¡¯t back at the Heart-Shaped Box¡ªbut I needed to earn somehow. I thought about Phlegm again and the bargain we¡¯d struck. Before the end of the day, or before the sun sets once more¡ªas she¡¯d put it¡ªshe¡¯d promised a replacement for my instrument. Did I tell her it had to be a lute? A guitar would be even better. Crap. It better not be a huge harp that I¡¯d have to lug around everywhere. That would be pretty funny. Yeah, for you, maybe. I wandered down the town¡¯s main thoroughfare. Colorful triangular flags hung from strings draped between buildings that were surprisingly well built, considering they didn¡¯t have power tools or machines. The place was sort of bustling. I mean, it wasn¡¯t Times Square or anything, but for a podunk town like this? It was lively. A hand-carved sign with an anvil swung above one building, and the screen told me it was a Blacksmith. Another had what looked like a needle and thread¡ªapparently a Tailor. There was an Apothecary. Maybe they had some good drugs that would snap me out of this whole ordeal. Then I heard a commotion and spotted a band of entertainers performing for the early morning passersby. TROUBADOURS: Wellick, dwarf, and halfling. Wellick¡­ huh. That was what the tavern owner was. And Mork. This woman looked just like a human. I guess I¡¯m just a wellick here. You¡¯ll pass until you¡ª Take off my pants. I know! The wellick lady was a bit of an acrobat, flipping and cartwheeling around, while the stout dwarf lifted heavy items to show off how strong he was¡ªand yes, he had a legendary beard. The curly-haired halfling played a small pipe of some type. That¡¯s a flute. A fellow bard, huh? No lute, though. The small crowd gathered around them didn¡¯t seem all that impressed. Surely, it was nothing compared to my ravishing rendition of ¡°The Muffin Man.¡± The troubadours looked anxious that their show wasn¡¯t winning anyone over. Sadly, I understood the feeling well. The halfling inched his way toward me. ¡°Don¡¯t like the music?¡± he asked. ¡°How about a magic trick?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not really the magic trick kind of guy,¡± I told him. ¡°Aww, just a small one?¡± The halfling got uncomfortably close, so I took a small step back and felt something solid slam into me. Or rather, I slammed into something solid. A strong hand squeezed my shoulder. ¡°Well, well, well¡­ it is you again.¡± CHAPTER SEVEN My body was turned around despite my desire not to, until I faced a hulking man. Oh, balls. Not just any man. Curr the braug, bald and bearded, scary and tattooed in his fine leather armor. And now, his massive axe was strapped on his back in a¡­ what do they call it? A sheath? A scabbard? Either works. I immediately tried to back up as I stammered, ¡°Good morning, sir, er¡­ Curr.¡± ¡°Better,¡± the braug said. ¡°I see you managed to find someplace to hole up last night.¡± I ran a hand through my hair, brushing out bits of hay. ¡°Well, yes. Yes, I did. I can be quite resourceful, and street smart.¡± Curr looked over my head, which wasn¡¯t hard for him to do. I could tell he was eyeing the troubadours. ¡°You know he was trying to pickpocket you, right?¡± he said loudly. ¡°He¡­ what? Him? No, he was trying to show me a magic trick.¡± Curr let out a barking laugh. ¡°Aye. The trick would have been when you got home and found your purse-strings cut.¡± I glanced back at the halfling, who stared at Curr like he¡¯d just swallowed curdled milk. ¡°Well,¡± I said. ¡°Joke¡¯s on him. I don¡¯t have a home or a purse.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Curr said. ¡°No job anymore either, huh?¡± He didn¡¯t let me respond. ¡°And the leg of lamb that Fargus gifted you with?¡± ¡°Oh, just the best. Delicious. An exquisite meal. Far more generous than I probably deserved after my offenses to you fine folks last night, for which I am eternally sorry. I meant no such harm, I assure you.¡± ¡°You did not really eat that, did you?¡± Curr asked. ¡°I¡ªwell.¡± I looked down at the cobbled street. ¡°No.¡± Curr laughed again. Who was this good-natured man who¡¯d replaced that grump from last evening? ¡°Good thing! Probably would have killed someone as puny as you.¡± Oh. Same guy. He must¡¯ve noticed a change in my demeanor. ¡°I am just having a bit of fun teasing you. Surely you are not so sensitive.¡± I glanced around, searching for an out. The troubadours had apparently given up after Curr called out the halfling loud enough for onlookers to hear. They were starting to pack up their cart. ¡°Speaking of Fargus and Vulna,¡± I said in what might have been the worst segue ever, ¡°where are they and the others in your company?¡± Curr shrugged. ¡°I do not know. Our quest was completed, and so we have gone our separate ways after our final celebration.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t keep from considering what that kind of relationship looked like. ¡°Speak your mind,¡± Curr said. ¡°It just seemed you and the others were awful close to just¡­ part ways.¡± ¡°Bonds are forged in battle, but I knew them barely a fortnight. That is simply the way of us sellswords. Suits me just fine. I am more accustomed to my own company anyway. However, oftentimes, the enemies we face are such that they require more brawn than brains to deal with. So that is what I put together: a company of simple-minded yet strong fighters.¡± ¡°You put the company together?¡± Curr squinted. ¡°You seem surprised by that fact. I sincerely hope for your sake you are not about to say something stupid.¡± Careful. He¡¯s starting to like you. ¡°Not at all, I just thought that you were all¡ª¡± ¡°Senseless duddards given to bloodlust?¡± Curr nodded. ¡°Yes, I know. And as such, most people think us incapable of possessing even a modicum of intelligence. But there are more things in this world that can be accomplished without violence than with it, so I try to engage my intellect more than most of my folk.¡± I decided to ply his ego a bit. ¡°You do seem very wise.¡± Curr grunted. ¡°With my intellect, I also have a rather well-developed lack of tolerance for obsequious behavior. My axe is swift to deal with such transgressions.¡± The screen flashed. Oops. Your attempt at persuasion failed. Do you have an off button? Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Trust me, you don¡¯t want to shut me off. I held up my hands to Curr. ¡°Again, I meant no offense.¡± Curr fixed me with a steady glare. ¡°Tell me, bard, what is that accent of yours?¡± Accent? He was the one with the accent. It was something like Russian, but also maybe Native American? There was a bit of haughtiness to it also, like a royal from England, but maybe that was just his love for obscure words. Honestly, I couldn¡¯t describe it if I tried. ¡°What is the farthest you have been from this town?¡± he continued. ¡°Three leagues? Ten? More?¡± I didn¡¯t even know what a league was. A league is a difficult unit of measurement to define. Historically, 7,500 feet to 15,000 feet, it is now widely accepted as three miles. Good question. ¡°Not far.¡± It was the truth, after all. I still had no clue why I¡¯d ended up here. ¡°No wonder you are so pathetic,¡± Curr said. ¡°I¡¯m not pathetic,¡± I said, gaining a little courage. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know, I played in a band¡ª¡± He clapped me on the shoulder. ¡°Forgive me, I meant no offense by it.¡± He gave me a knowing glare, repeating my own words. ¡°Pathetic is just not the word I would¡¯ve chosen to describe me,¡± I said. ¡°Ah, do tell. What would the lowly bard say of himself?¡± I chose to ignore the question. ¡°I may not have the most well-traveled itinerary, but I¡ª¡± ¡°Do not really have a good singing voice either.¡± Curr grinned. ¡°Or even an instrument that you can play to try to scrape up some work.¡± ¡°No thanks to you.¡± Curr chuckled. ¡°You made the mistake of trying to con us out of our hard-won gold. I know you realize that you are not the best bard that has ever strummed a lute.¡± ¡°Hey, I was hungry and had to try to earn a meal.¡± I sighed. ¡°Yes, perhaps I¡¯m not the greatest. Maybe my voice isn¡¯t exactly¡­ mellifluous¡ª¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± I slapped my knee. ¡°Ah! Did I stump the intellectual?¡± Curr¡¯s features darkened. ¡°Just tell me what it means before I stomp you into mushed bard.¡± I swallowed hard. ¡°A flowing, soothing quality to it¡­ like honey.¡± He stuck out his tongue in disgust. ¡°Never liked honey. Too sweet for my taste.¡± ¡°Anyway.¡± I was starting to get annoyed. ¡°I was able to do a lot more last night when I had my lute. You remember that, right? Before you crushed it? Now I can¡¯t even play.¡± ¡°You could not really play it last night either.¡± ¡°You know what? I don¡¯t really have to take this kind of abuse¡ª¡± ¡°Relax, friend! You were lucky Fargus chose not to rip you into tiny pieces after comparing his betrothed with a bone. I was doing you a favor. Your lute instead of your skull.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t he understand? That¡¯s the point. I make rhymes. Not everything does so easily, but you try regardless. And oftentimes, you have to come up with them on the fly.¡± ¡°You chose the occupation, did you not?¡± he asked. I ground my teeth. I didn¡¯t choose any of this. The screen flashed. HUNGER: Your tummy will start growling soon. OBJECTIVE UPDATED: Convince Curr to buy you a meal. Now, how the heck am I supposed to do that? Curr demolished my lute last night for trying that very thing! Now you want me to do it again? What¡ªthe rancid meat and food poisoning wasn¡¯t punishment enough? You need more meat. Hah. That¡¯s what she said. If I wasn¡¯t so frustrated, I might have smirked at that. No, I need to figure out what the hell is going on here! Like, why I¡¯m here in the first place and all that. Y¡¯know, the important stuff. Feeling a stare, I looked up. Curr watched me curiously. I must¡¯ve checked out there for a few moments while arguing internally with the screen and hadn¡¯t yet responded to his question about choosing this life. ¡°Sure, I did,¡± I lied. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t make it any easier. You have to do your best with what you have and hope the audience likes it.¡± ¡°And do you have a lot of fans of your work?¡± Curr asked. ¡°Followers?¡± I considered how best to answer that. Before the Heart-Shaped Box, I had a pretty decent career. Though that was then¡­ ¡°I am¡­ tolerated.¡± Curr chuckled again. ¡°Tolerated? Why would anyone aspire to be tolerated? Who cares what people think of you?¡± ¡°Well, I kind of have to care.¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°Imagine if I simply stopped caring and went around singing whatever I wanted to? Or said things that offended my audience? I¡¯d have to be a capable fighter to deal with that. And trust me when I tell you, I am no fighter.¡± ¡°I trust you. You could barely hold the lute aloft last night. I do not struggle to imagine what you would look like wielding a sword.¡± ¡°Once again, thanks.¡± This conversation was doing great things for my ego. Subject change time. ¡°So, where will you go now?¡± Curr rolled his shoulders. ¡°Back to the tavern. I am hungry and need sustenance.¡± Here¡¯s your chance. Don¡¯t blow it. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m starved too,¡± I said. ¡°And given that you destroyed my only means of earning money, I¡¯ll probably go hungry.¡± ¡°My sincerest apologies.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s all you¡¯ve got for destroying my livelihood? Sorry?¡± He blinked at me, then offered a slight nod, as if the idea of me even questioning that was illogical. ¡°How about a consolation gift?¡± I said. ¡°Maybe a hearty meal at the tavern? I could use a good one. I¡¯ve only had last night¡¯s solitary bite of lamb in days.¡± Curr pointed at my tunic. ¡°You have breadcrumbs on the front of your tunic.¡± My face went red. Curr crossed his ridiculously muscled arms. ¡°Is it your custom to lie as much as it seems? That is a very dangerous hobby to pursue. Especially to someone twice your size.¡± ¡°Look, Curr, I only want fair compensation for you destroying my livelihood. A meal won¡¯t cost you too much. And as you¡¯ve already noted, I¡¯m half your size. How much could I possibly eat? Besides, I am something of a decent conversationalist, and now that you¡¯re alone¡­¡± I let the statement hang in the air, hoping he was as smart as he perceived himself to be. He took a breath and then exhaled. ¡°Indeed, you certainly are better at conversing than you are at singing.¡± ¡°Thank you. Wait¡ª¡± Curr pointed over his shoulder. ¡°I will provide you a meal, but then we must part. I do not intend to take on a new partnership so soon after my last one dissolved.¡± ¡°Hey, I¡¯m good with a one-meal stand. Relationships aren¡¯t my thing.¡± Curr¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I have no idea what any of that means.¡± ¡°Forget it. I¡¯ll explain later.¡± OBJECTIVE COMPLETED: You have convinced Curr to buy you a meal. You have gained +1 in Speechcraft. Your Speechcraft is now 10. NEW OBJECTIVE: Discover the nature of Curr¡¯s next quest. REWARD: The feeling of a job well done. So demanding. I complete one task and get another before I even have time to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Okay, precious. And you should really eat something more than fruit¡­ Enjoy the meal. I don¡¯t like you. CHAPTER EIGHT I fell into step beside Curr, which was more difficult to do than it sounds, given that his stride was double mine. Certainly wasn¡¯t about to complain, not when I¡¯d managed to win him over with my charm. Wow. You¡¯re delusional and clueless. I did my best to ignore the thing floating in front of my eyes and followed Curr into the tavern. There were already a few souls drinking away whatever lives they had. The hearth glowed with old embers, nobody caring to get it roaring again so early in the morning. As much as I enjoyed a good lager, I¡¯d never understood the need to drink before noon. Then again, at the moment, I didn¡¯t care who was around and what they did. I just wanted something decent to eat and to forget the nightmare of the lamb. Maybe afterward, I could while away the hours until Phlegm¡¯s bargain came to fruition. I wondered if I needed to be anywhere in particular for it to happen. She didn¡¯t say so. I mean, what good was magic if it required all these rules to make it work? I decided to just go on about my day and hope the hag would take care of the rest. ¡°Oh, no,¡± came a voice from the bar. I turned to see Rarmir throwing his towel down and stalking toward us. ¡°What part of ¡®get lost¡¯ hadn¡¯t I made clear?¡± I began to respond when Curr stepped between us. ¡°Take heart, my friend. This one is my guest.¡± Rarmir looked between us, muttered a curse, and stomped away. ¡°You truly are not liked here,¡± Curr remarked. ¡°I noticed.¡± We seated ourselves at a table, and Curr ordered us two big bowls of stew. With water. ¡°Water, huh?¡± I asked. ¡°Did you want something more?¡± ¡°Me? No. I just figured¡ª¡± ¡°Stereotypes are hurtful,¡± Curr said. ¡°Try to be more tolerant.¡± The front door swinging open stole the response out of my mouth. In strolled the pickpocketing troubadours. Maybe they felt like they deserved more praise and affection from the townsfolk, I don¡¯t know, but they looked pissed and apparently decided to head to the tavern to blow off some steam. Loudly, they took their seats a few tables away from us. They ordered several draughts of ale that lasted only seconds. The halfling, in particular, was in a sour mood. Serves him right for trying to rob me. Of nothing. I rolled my eyes. The halfling was a jerk, lambasting the tavern staff, telling them they moved too slow to be good at their jobs. He even flicked a few coins across the floor and ordered them to pick them up if they wanted their pay. Curr observed the commotion and shook his head. ¡°It is too early in the day for that sort of behavior.¡± He glanced at me. ¡°Gives bards a bad reputation, huh¡­?¡± It was then I realized he¡¯d forgotten my name. ¡°Danny,¡± I told him. ¡°And, psh, he¡¯s no¡­ bard. Just a clown with a pipe.¡± Curr leaned back and let out a full belly laugh. ¡°A clown with a pipe! Ha ha, fine joke!¡± He turned toward the halfling and then back to me. ¡°Your assessment is accurate. He does resemble a clown! Red hair and all!¡± The halfling heard all of this and scowled. My stomach lurched. The screen flashed. Oh crap. NEW OBJECTIVE: Convince the halfling that you didn¡¯t insult him.Between us, he definitely looks like a clown. The halfling made a show of downing the rest of his ale, then hopped off his seat and stormed toward us. Curr ignored him until he was only three feet away. NAME: Garvis Wittleman OCCUPATION: Thief RACE: Halfling (Male) SPECIAL ABILITIES: Sneaky, quick with hands, can conceal weapons. Has a vicious knee-strike. WEAPONS: Unknown¡­ mysterious! So, I was right. He isn¡¯t a bard. Want a cookie? Does that count as a meal? You¡¯ll spoil your appetite. ¡°What did you just say?¡± the halfling, Garvis, demanded, pulling me back to the present. Curr took a small sip of his water, smacked his lips, and said, ¡°Well met!¡± The halfling¡¯s face scrunched up like tin foil. ¡°What did you just say when you were laughing?¡± ¡°It was not I who said it,¡± Curr informed Garvis. ¡°It was my friend here. He suggested you resembled a clown with a pipe. Clever.¡± ¡°You?¡± Garvis appraised me. ¡°You have the nerve to call me a clown? You look like you slept in a barn.¡± Curr let out a barking laugh and slapped the table. ¡°He did! He did in fact do that very thing. Look at the straw still in his hair!¡± ¡°Thanks, Curr,¡± I muttered. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. As small as Garvis was, he looked angry enough to battle ten men. Plus, he happened to be built like a small barrel. I cleared my throat. ¡°I said it was amazing how fast you put that ale down. My friend here must have misunderstood.¡± Not bad. Not bad at all. Not good either. But not bad. Garvis looked somewhat placated by the lie. The screen started to flash again, then curiously, disappeared. Curr nearly spat out his water, as if I¡¯d retold the joke again. ¡°No, no. Your memory fails you, Danny. I clearly recall you saying he favored the appearance of a clown with a pipe. I found it an entertaining observation.¡± He grinned at the halfling. ¡°I think he means your instrument.¡± OBJECTIVE FAILED: You have gained an enemy. A small one, sure. But he¡¯s feisty. OBJECTIVE UPDATED: Defeat the halfling. Defeat¡ªwhat? I stared at Curr, baffled. He seemed determined to get me killed. Garvis growled and pulled a dagger from his boot. Curr caught his wrist immediately. Thank God. ¡°No weapons. There will be no need for bloodshed here. The proprietors of this fine establishment are decent folk.¡± Curr nodded toward me. ¡°If you have an issue with my friend, then it will be settled with fists.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I said. Garvis gawked at Curr¡¯s massive hand. Curr could have lifted him like a feather, and the halfling knew it. ¡°All right.¡± He nodded. ¡°That seems fair.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡± ¡°Shhh, Danny,¡± Curr said. Garvis released the dagger, which Curr caught with his other hand. It may as well have been a sewing needle resting in his oversized palm. The halfling pulled his arm back and rubbed his wrist, then pointed at me. ¡°So, I¡¯m a joke to you, is that it? You think you¡¯re better because you¡¯re tall, Wellick?¡± I shook my head. ¡°No, I¡ª¡± ¡°Well, let¡¯s see if you change your mind when I get done stomping your brains out.¡± I held up my hands, palms out. ¡°There¡¯s no need for this. I apologize for insulting you.¡± ¡°No.¡± Garvis shook his head rather violently, his curly red mop waggling. ¡°What¡¯s said is said. I can¡¯t let you insult me in front of my friends over there.¡± I looked beyond him at the bar where his dwarf and wellick companions barely paid attention to the altercation¡ªas if this were a common occurrence. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a fighter,¡± I said. ¡°Then you¡¯d better learn fast.¡± Garvis got Curr¡¯s attention. ¡°If he don¡¯t fight, I get to stab him to death.¡± ¡°Obviously,¡± Curr agreed. He then clapped as the bowls of stew arrived. ¡°Ah, time to eat.¡± He pointed at me. ¡°You had better take care of this business if you want that meal I promised. Otherwise, I will be forced to eat yours.¡± I groaned. ¡°I hate this place.¡± I started to stand, but the moment I did, the little halfling rushed in and tackled me to the ground. My head knocked against the floor and the few patrons in the tavern exploded in cheers. Garvis started raining blows down upon me. I turned this way and that, trying my best to avoid the assault, but he was remarkably consistent with his strikes despite the amount he¡¯d imbibed. Quick with his hands, indeed. His little fists landed like tiny hammers, blasting me in the face three times in rapid succession. I tasted blood. WARNING: If you continue to sustain damage like this, you will die. Nothing helped the situation like a blue box popping up in my face. Curr spoke, but my head was ringing. It sounded like, ¡°You had better find a reason to fight, bard. This little one is not going to stop until you are dead.¡± ¡°Little one?¡± Garvis spat, turning his attention to Curr. I took full advantage of his distraction and threw my knee up. It managed to dislodge him. Then I scrambled backward, trying to get to my feet. Garvis regrouped, pointed at Curr, and said, ¡°You¡¯re next, giant!¡± Then he came at me again, launching a stubby, two-legged kick that bounced off my left knee and hurt like hell. The vicious knee-strike I¡¯d been warned about. Without thinking, I threw my own kick and it caught Garvis squarely in the crotch. He buckled and moaned from the impact. I felt a rush of guilt. It felt like kicking a kid. I leaned in. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡± Even as I spoke, the halfling attacked again, catching me by surprise. He landed a punch on my jaw that knocked me back onto the floor. Out of the corner of my quickly swelling eye, I spotted Curr shaking his head in disapproval as he slurped the stew from his bowl. I vaguely saw him reaching for my meal. ¡°Y¡¯know, a little help here would be nice!¡± I called to him. ¡°He¡¯ll get his chance!¡± Garvis snarled as he tried to pin me again. I flailed and a lucky elbow bashed him in the side of his head. He staggered, clutching his temple. He was wobbly, and I regained my footing before bringing my hands up. ¡°Do it now,¡± said Curr simply. I looked down at my hands and clenched them into fists. This was foreign to me. Most of my life¡ªKurt excluded¡ªI¡¯d been able to avoid fighting by using my quick wit and willingness to flee. But now¡­ ¡°Do it.¡± Taking a deep breath, I delivered a straight shot to the reeling halfling¡¯s nose. The impact sent a bolt of pain shooting up my arm, while the effect to Garvis was violent. Blood gushed like a fountain from his nostrils, and the little man¡¯s head snapped back. He wobbled, then toppled to the floor where he completely stopped moving. The tavern erupted in cheers again. ¡°Did I kill him?¡± I asked, horrified. OBJECTIVE COMPLETED: You have defeated the halfling. You have gained +1 in Unarmed Combat Your Unarmed Combat is now 3. It wasn¡¯t pretty, and he was very small. You shouldn¡¯t be too proud. Would you like to loot the body? I can do that? Everyone will see me rooting through his pockets. You have an ability to pickpocket. Would you like to use it? Uh, I guess? Try it. Without knowing what I was doing, I got my hands under the halfling¡¯s armpits and hauled him to his feet. I tried to make it look like I was brushing him off as I did so, holding him there for several seconds as his eyes refocused. Would you like to take the pouch? Somewhat embarrassed at what I was about to do, I nodded a very slight nod. What happened next was almost unconscious. I leaned against the halfling, and my fingers slipped into his pocket, transferring a small pouch of gold onto my person. It all happened so fast. +17gp. You have gained +1 in Pickpocketing. Your Pickpocketing is now 9. Congrats! You¡¯re a thief. Your mother would be proud. I swore under my breath. A thief? This is what it¡¯s called when you take other people¡¯s stuff. Can I put them back? No one saw you, dude. Just keep the loot. At least you didn¡¯t strip him naked, right? I was starting to believe the screen didn¡¯t have my best interests at heart. Not that Garvis didn¡¯t deserve it. He¡¯d tried to do the same to me out on the street. But still, I¡¯d never stolen before. Aw, you¡¯re no longer a virgin. A tiny bit richer, I steered the halfling back to his comrades and then returned to my table. ¡°Bravo,¡± Curr said. He kicked out my chair. ¡°Now sit and eat.¡± He slid what remained of my bowl back to me. The stew looked chunky and unappetizing, but it beat rotten lamb big time. I sat and forced myself to eat a few spoonfuls, then found myself enjoying it. All the while, I kept a wary eye on Garvis the halfling. Curr stretched across the table and laid a huge hand on my shoulder. ¡°Do not worry about him. You earned his respect enough that he will leave you alone now.¡± I took another spoonful of stew. ¡°I¡¯ve never fought like that before.¡± Curr nodded. ¡°That is obvious. You punch like a wean.¡± ¡°Always there to cheer me up.¡± Curr chuckled. ¡°You did what needed to be done, but it was not very nice to look at. You are lucky the halfling was inebriated. Had he been sober, it might have been a different story.¡± I rubbed my jaw. ¡°He didn¡¯t seem too affected by the booze.¡± ¡°You will have some bruises and welts, no doubt,¡± Curr continued as if I hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°But that is good!¡± ¡°How is that good?¡± ¡°They will remain a temporary reminder that you cannot let people walk all over you.¡± I rubbed my cheek. ¡°I suppose. And girls dig guys with battle scars, right?¡± No. Curr just laughed. ¡°The world cares not a bit for you, friend. You either find a way to make peace with the fact that sometimes violence is necessary, or else you are not going to live long enough to find yourself a new lute.¡± Wait a second. Dun. Dun. Dun¡­ CHAPTER NINE ¡°A new lute¡­ Who said I was looking for a new lute?¡± I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, and not looking up from my stew. ¡°Is that not what you bards do?¡± Curr said. ¡°Play instruments and sing songs?¡± ¡°Usually. But my lute¡ª¡± ¡°Yes, yes, I know. I destroyed it. But all that means is you should be looking to acquire a new one.¡± I frowned. Did Curr somehow know about my bargain with Phlegm? How could he possibly, though? There was no way. He seemed pretty straightforward. Maybe he really did assume I would be looking to replace my instrument after he broke it. ¡°Or you could have just not broken the first one,¡± I said. ¡°Alas, I was fairly drunk myself,¡± he replied. ¡°Not to mention I had just spent days immersed in battle rage. Once more, my apologies.¡± I eyed him, trying my best to suss out any deceit. Spying none, I decided I was willing to accept that response. Who hasn¡¯t been drunk and done something stupid? ¡°Thing is, I¡¯m a little short on coin to think about buying something new,¡± I said. Sure, I¡¯d just gained seventeen gold from pickpocketing Garvis¡ªan act I was not very proud of¡ªbut that couldn¡¯t possibly be enough to buy a lute. Could it? I wonder what the dollar-to-gold coin ratio is? Does not compute¡­ Curr took a big swig of water and motioned for the waitress to bring more. ¡°There are other ways of procuring items,¡± he said. My brow lifted. Did Curr notice me picking the halfling¡¯s pockets? It¡¯s possible. Your aptitude using that skill is still low, therefore your actions were somewhat obvious. Obvious? You weren¡¯t exactly Oliver Twist, champ. I¡¯m getting sick of you. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not gonna break into a shop and steal something,¡± I said to Curr. ¡°I¡¯d get arrested, maybe even killed for doing something like that. Right?¡± Curr shrugged. ¡°You would likely just lose a hand.¡± ¡°Just a hand?¡± I scoffed. ¡°And what value would a lute be to a one-handed man?¡± ¡°If that man were you, I am not sure most would notice the difference.¡± ¡°That stings.¡± I dropped my spoon and leaned back in my chair. ¡°You should be less sensitive. Besides, you could have easily been killed by the halfling a few moments ago. Somehow you managed to survive that little ordeal.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know about easily,¡± I argued. Then after a few moments of silence, I added, ¡°You think he could¡¯ve killed me?¡± Curr nodded. Your Luck is fairly high. Seriously, what does that even mean? How are people ranked here? Are you messing around about all this? A lesson for another time. Perhaps once your Intelligence is greater than a 4. That gave me pause. Is that low? Quite. I know I¡¯d never been the brightest crayon in the box¡ªmy grades in high school had proven that¡ªbut I¡¯d never considered myself dumb. I was smart enough to make a decent living off my music until my agent screwed me over. Convinced me not to take a deal with a midsize label. Said better would come. Only¡­ it never did. Then the suits were no longer interested in us when we came crawling back, and my agent was no longer interested in me. My band broke up and we all stopped talking. Goddamn suits. That was how I wound up stuck with a regular Friday at the Heart-Shaped Box half-a-year back. I was on the precipice of something great and then, wham! All my dreams, washed away in an instant. ¡°On another day, that little man might have mopped the floor with you.¡± Curr looked around the tavern. ¡°Something this establishment would benefit from.¡± ¡°Still, there¡¯s a bit of a difference between a barroom brawl and shoplifting, don¡¯t you think?¡± I asked, deciding I was hungry enough to quit my mope sesh and return to the stew. ¡°A fight is a fight. Whether in combat or the battle to achieve a goal.¡± ¡°Does everything in your world come down to fighting?¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Curr grinned. ¡°On a good day.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m sorry. My life is a bit different. Really different, in fact. There¡¯s not much room for fighting in it.¡± Even as I said it, I felt stupid. We might not battle with swords and shields back in Willistown, but there¡¯s always one group arguing with another about some policy or law. Curr leveled a finger at me. ¡°Do you not sing songs about brave heroes besting vile monsters? Do those stories not involve fighting something or for something? A treasure, a princess, a mug of ale even?¡± ¡°Well, yes, I suppose so.¡± ¡°And there is the point. Conflict is the thing that makes people desperate enough to listen to your singing. It is certainly not for your quality. Life without conflict is no life at all. There is nothing that makes a man relish living like being near death.¡± We were quiet for a bit, listening to clay and pewter banging around the tavern, the few patrons talking and laughing. ¡°And what if you happen to be terrified of dying?¡± ¡°Then get good enough at fighting that you do not fear death,¡± Curr said. ¡°It is a simple solution to a complex problem.¡± ¡°Yeah. Easy for you to say. Look at the size of you. There¡¯s never been a fight you couldn¡¯t win.¡± ¡°You know nothing of my battles,¡± Curr said, sterner than I¡¯d heard him yet. It made me wonder what trials filled his past, and reminded me he wasn¡¯t alone just the night before; he¡¯d been surrounded by fellow braugs. ¡°That¡¯s fair. But you saw how badly I fought earlier.¡± I tried to steer the conversation back to my shortcomings. Which wasn¡¯t all that difficult. I had a lot. His smile returned. ¡°You will improve with every battle. Worry not.¡± He is correct. Your current Melee Weapon skill is a 9. A nine? That didn¡¯t sound encouraging. My old nana was probably an eleven. Ugh. Information unknown. ¡°How good is a nine?¡± I asked Curr, since the screen was a worthless pile of garbage. I wondered if every skill in this world was based on a number system. ¡°Nine is higher than eight. Lower than ten,¡± he said. That answer didn¡¯t reveal whether or not he knew what I was talking about. He doesn¡¯t. Does he have a¡­ you? No. Does anyone here? Only you. Aren¡¯t you just the shiny penny? But¡­ How do they know what they¡¯re good at? By living. Duh. So, I don¡¯t actually need you? Psh. You wouldn¡¯t be able to live without me. I wasn¡¯t sure if the screen was speaking metaphorically or literally, but I let it go for now. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder why I was special enough to get this detailed, play-by-play look at the world around me. It seemed apparent that the screen wasn¡¯t ready to answer such deep questions. ¡°Did the fight injure your head?¡± Curr asked, likely noticing my faraway stare as I conversed in my head with the screen like a mental case. ¡°Sorry, just thinking¡­¡± I said. ¡°This is all new for me.¡± He smiled. ¡°Be proud you fought for something, Danny. That is what is important.¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t seem like I had a choice.¡± ¡°No. You fought to defend your honor. He drew a knife and showed none.¡± ¡°I guess¡­¡± I¡¯d never thought of myself as having any sort of honor. Though after what Kurt did, I can¡¯t say it didn¡¯t feel good to stand my ground against a hotheaded thug. ¡°You have a limit which you will not allow yourself to be pushed beyond. And that is a good thing. It is the cowards who never fight for anything that will always break loyalty at the first opportunity. People like that are worthless and gutless and should not even exist.¡± He spoke as if he had experience with such things. Probably did. He spooned another big helping of stew into his mouth. I hadn¡¯t even noticed the bar wench¡ªam I allowed to say that these days?¡ªdeliver another bowl. ¡°Seeing you fight makes me hopeful you are not one of those scum,¡± he added, a bit of thick brown liquid dribbling down his chin and into his beard. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I responded as quickly as I could. I¡¯m not, right? No. You¡¯re a thief. ¡°Words do not carry the same weight as watching you in action,¡± Curr said. He gestured to my bowl of stew. ¡°Eat up.¡± I helped myself to a few more bites, which by now tasted amazing. The nausea I¡¯d felt after my fight slowly waned as I ate and washed it down with the tepid water. CURRENT HEALTH: 95% Looking good, stud. Remember, food is fuel! I smiled. Ninety-five percent seemed accurate. Better than I¡¯d felt since being here. Curr, for his part, appeared determined to eat the tavern out of their entire stock. I figured as long as he was buying, what was the problem? When we were both finished¡ªhim long after I¡¯d had my fill¡ªI leaned back and took a breath. ¡°I¡¯m stuffed.¡± Curr patted his stomach. ¡°With that completed, let us see about procuring you a new lute.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°Why are you helping me now? What happened to the asshole who broke my lute?¡± In response, he lifted his mug. ¡°Water, not ale.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it? I was drunk so I did bad things?¡± It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d made that claim, and now, it seemed he was sticking to it. ¡°Perhaps I see now that you may have the potential to become adequate at your profession.¡± ¡°Because I didn¡¯t die?¡± ¡°Because you have heart,¡± he said, tapping his chest. I went to stand, but he took me by the hand. ¡°Two things,¡± he said. ¡°One: never refer to me as an ¡®asshole¡¯ again. That is disgusting.¡± I nodded. ¡°And two¡­¡± He placed a dagger in my open palm. It was the one he¡¯d taken from the halfling and clearly hadn¡¯t given back. The blade had a few nicks and a bit of rust at the base. I didn¡¯t close my fingers. ¡°Why would I need this?¡± Curr blinked. ¡°Why would you not?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to stab¡ª¡± ¡°It is not the finest blade, but it is small, and you have a lesser chance of hurting yourself with it. Take it.¡± He forced my hand shut around the grip and once again left me feeling like I had no choice. I guess it couldn¡¯t hurt to have something to defend myself with, considering drunken halflings were apt to pull knives on you in this world for just an innocent joke. WEAPON OBTAINED: Rusty Old Dagger (Melee Damage 1-3). It¡¯s kind of worthless. It¡¯ll probably break the first time you use it. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, awkwardly stowing it in the back of my belt. ¡°We will have to get you a proper scabbard.¡± Curr had promised me a meal and that was it. What had him wanting to help me further was beyond my line of reasoning, but I¡¯d been taught never to look a gift horse in the mouth. After all, I was alone here except for the annoying screen. As we exited the tavern, the wellick and dwarf troubadours gave us¡ªmostly me¡ªa sneering glare. They now sat away from Garvis, at a separate table even. The halfling was almost comatose from the beating and the beers. Still, he did manage to nod at me. ¡°Thanks for the fight.¡± I didn¡¯t know how to respond to that, so I simply nodded back and followed Curr outside. The bright sunlight made me wince, my eyes soon adjusting. Townsfolk continued to bustle about without caring that a giant of a man and an instrument-less bard stood, gathering their bearings. ¡°Wait,¡± Curr said, raising a hand. ¡°Now what?¡± I groaned. Curr motioned for me to follow him. ¡°Over there.¡± He pointed to a small alleyway. Someone had parked a brightly painted wagon in it. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°Their wagon,¡± he said. ¡°The halfling learned his lesson, but the others should not support his trade or behave as they did in an upstanding establishment. We must teach them a lesson.¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± Who was this guy, Batman? ¡°What are we gonna do?¡± ¡°We are going to make them reap what they have sown.¡± BOOK 2: CHAPTER ZERO We¡¯re back, bitches! Who are you talking to? Uh, just myself. You¡¯re a weird one, Screenie. Right. So, as I was saying. Three months? Huh? Wow. It¡¯s been a long time¡­ Since what? If you keep interrupting, this is going to take forever. Now, hush! So, three months ago, Aethonia received its newest ¡°hero.¡± Gods and monsters, I can barely say that with a straight face. You don¡¯t even have a face. You don¡¯t have a face. After meeting a big bad braug named Curr, our ¡°hero¡± set out on the journey of a lifetime! Why do you keep putting hero in quotes? If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Oh, must have been autocorrect. Anyway, equipped with his fabulous and elegant cloak¡ªthe one he got from an elven tailor named Lalair Cauquinal, (I know, right?)¡ªand a mysterious magical lute he found in a well¡ª You know what, this whole thing is nuts. Well, when you say it like that. I didn¡¯t just find it in a well. It was sent to me by Fa¡¯Lem, the hag-not-hag oracle of the Sisterhood of Alyndis. #hagnothag. And you fell in love with Liiiiiilla. I didn¡¯t fall in love with her. I just think she¡¯s¡­ great. You wanna kiiiisss her. You wanna fuuu¡ª That¡¯s enough, Screenie. Fine. So three months later, it¡¯s Danny the bard, Curr the braug, Garvis the thief, and Lilla the hottie¡ª Hey, she¡¯s a ranger. An expert marksman, swordsman, and a lot of other things. Sigh. Lilla the ranger, expert marks-person, swords-person, and a lot of other things, and¡­ yours truly! The lean, mean, screen machine! Mean, maybe. So where are we now? I am thrilled you asked. On our way to the capital city of course! King¡¯s Landing awaits! You mean Cantripoli? Oh, right. Wrong story. SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO? PART V: The King¡¯s Own Pride CURRENT LOCATION: South of Cantripoli. BOOK 2: CHAPTER ONE It was spring. That meant no more trudging through snow or shivering myself to sleep at night. The air was warm. Birds were singing, flowers were in bloom, and I learned my lesson¡ªmy pockets were full of them. Any time I found a new flora species, I picked a few¡­ just in case. Yep. And with that pink cloak, it all just¡­ works. Slay, Queen! Hey, those glowing flowers saved my life once. Who knows what the rest of them could do? I do. What? You do? And? They would look absolutely gorgeous in a vase. You¡¯re sure? Sure as I am you¡¯re a virgin. I groaned, and started emptying my pockets. Not an admission, by the way. I just knew by now that Screenie¡¯s answer meant yeah, my collection was as useless as the nipples on Batman¡¯s armor. Clooney, baby! And as long as I¡¯ve known the weird floating blue box I called Screenie, I still had no idea how he had knowledge of so many Earth references. Life¡¯s a mystery. Hey, at least you earned a point in Herbalism along the way! Did I? Do you pay attention to anything I say? You say a lot of things. I must¡¯ve looked like the flower girl on someone¡¯s wedding day, dumping so many of them from my pockets. Luckily, I was dragging behind the group, so no one had to witness my shame. Sure, I¡¯d leveled up a time or two since we¡¯d left Fa¡¯Lem on Mount Gehram, but that hadn¡¯t prepared me for the long trek through every kind of terrain imaginable. One thing was for sure, if I did ever make it back to Willistown, I¡¯d never take airplanes for granted again. I honestly don¡¯t know why you guys didn¡¯t Fast Travel. Fast Travel?? You¡¯ve gotta be kidding¡­ Screenie was silent long enough for me to fully unload all the flowers before the screen filled with ha-has. You¡¯re really not that funny. I beg to differ. The thought of flying even Spirit Airlines across this crazy world brought up a question I¡¯d been thinking a lot about lately. Did I even want to go back to Earth? What was there for me there anyway? The more I got to know Lilla, the less I thought about Trish and what could¡¯ve been. Yeah, when I slept on the cold, hard ground, I missed my super-expensive bed. But without someone to share it with, did it matter? I¡¯d fallen into the habit of making a mental list as we walked. Pros and cons. The longer I was in Aethonia, the smaller the list of pros for returning home became. Things still at the top were hot showers, deodorant, and breakfast cereal. I know, kind of stupid. But, man, what wouldn¡¯t have done for a big bowl of Lucky Charms. Instead, here, there were probably real-life leprechauns. In fact, there are multiple races of leprechauns, each making up¡ª Screenie, unless there are leprechauns right here, and they could kill me, I¡¯m not really interested. If you think you¡¯d be better off without me again¡­ No! It¡¯s not that. I just don¡¯t want to read about leprechauns right now. I keenly remembered the last time Screenie went silent-mode on me. It wasn¡¯t pretty. I¡¯d still only been in this place for a short while, and everything was different from home. As annoying as he could be, I couldn¡¯t deny the fact that I¡¯d gotten used to him being around, and I needed him. Aww. It was sort of like a really messed up Stockholm Syndrome, the relationship I had with this seemingly omniscient screen. One that existed entirely in my head. All the time. ¡°What is wrong, Danny?¡± Curr asked. ¡°You look as if a rodent defecated in your porridge.¡± I must¡¯ve been making a face without realizing it. This might be a good time to tell him you¡¯re missing home. To tell him where you¡¯re really from and how you got here. It might be a good time to remember that¡­ CURRENT OBJECTIVE: Find a way to tell Curr the truth about where you¡¯re from. CONSEQUENCES FOR FAILURE: Curr will probably kill you for lying. ¡°Me? Yeah. I¡¯m fine. Just tired of walking.¡± Pussy. Whoa! You¡¯re the pussy. I am what I eat. You¡¯re gross. ¡°It is those little legs,¡± Curr said without emotion. My cheeks went red with anger. I don¡¯t know if it was Screenie, my current objective, or Curr insulting me again. But I snapped. ¡°I do not have little legs!¡± I pointed to Garvis who was somehow outpacing me. ¡°He has little legs.¡± The halfling turned back toward me, little pudgy face screwed up in a pout. ¡°I¡¯m not even involved in this yigging conversation!¡± He was right. I didn¡¯t know why I did that. Garvis and I had met under less than ideal circumstances. He tried to rob me. I broke his face¡ª Hah! I did. But the great thing is, he and I had actually been getting along lately. Over the past few months, when Lilla wasn¡¯t training me with a sword and bow, Garvis was teaching me ¡°tricks.¡± He was teaching you how to become more than just a Petty Thief. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. It was true. He helped me increase my Stealth, Pickpocketing, and I even unlocked a new Skill called Deception. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mouthed to him. My silent apology did nothing to quell his offense. He simply huffed and started power-walking like a mom squad in the suburbs. I¡¯d have to find a way to make it up to the little guy. I¡¯m sure if you call him that, it¡¯ll make great strides toward your reconciliation. ¡°Everyone stop,¡± Lilla said, concern in her tone. ¡°I know. We¡¯re being immature¡ª¡± ¡°No. Do you smell that?¡± She sniffed the air, and so did I. ¡°Currrrrr,¡± Garvis said, the name drawn out accusingly. Curr just looked at everyone with a confused expression. ¡°It¡¯s not Curr either,¡± Lilla said. ¡°I smell it too,¡± I agreed. You¡¯re just trying to suck up. No. Really. I do. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ fire? Is something on fire?¡± I asked, looking around. As was common to the region, thick forests surrounded us. The trees were taller than most buildings back in Willistown¡ªactually, probably all buildings in Willistown. Even straight ahead, on the dirt road, a curve led us deeper into more woods. I turned my gaze to the sky above the canopy. No smoke¡ªnone that I could see at any rate. Lilla shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not just fire. There¡¯s something else too. Something I¡¯ve smelled before.¡± Curr took a huge whiff. ¡°Oh, it is trolls,¡± he said as if commenting on the weather. ¡°They have a funny smell, do they not? And pungent.¡± He waved his hand in front of his nose. ¡°Trolls?¡± Garvis and I both said at the same time. ¡°What a treat!¡± Curr practically shouted. ¡°Last I ventured forth to slay trolls, it took my party several months to even catch a whiff of one.¡± Garvis plugged his nose. ¡°Why would anyone want to do that?¡± Huh¡­ that¡¯s odd. Looking back through my transcripts, I see I never told you about trolls. You have transcripts? Of course I do. What do you think I am, an amateur? To be honest, I still don¡¯t know what you are exactly. That¡¯s for another day. For now¡­ trolls! TROLLS:¡ªOr would you rather not hear about them now either¡­? Unlike leprechauns, there might actually be trolls here. Tell me. TROLLS: Trolls can be found anywhere in Aethonia, if one knows where to look. They are elusive, and their varieties different from region to region. Frost Trolls, Sea Trolls, Mountain Trolls, River Trolls, Bog Trolls, Sand Trolls¡ªthe list goes on and on. Luckily for you, this part of the world has Greenwood Trolls! Are Greenwood Trolls less dangerous? Noooo. Not. At. All. Possibly some of the most dangerous of the bunch. Then how is it lucky? Because they aren¡¯t naked like a lot of the other trolls. They literally clothe themselves with the forest. Trolls are monstrous creatures both in size and demeanor. There truly are endless ways in which one could kill you. From crushing you in its VW Beetle-sized palm, to smashing you with feet as big as a full-size pickup truck. And if these weren¡¯t Greenwood Trolls, I¡¯d have to warn you not to get whacked by a low-hanging fifth limb, if you know what I mean. While they aren¡¯t malevolent, they are violent. They¡¯re a bit like a great dane who jumps on your lap without even the slightest idea how big they are. Think of it like when you bump your hip on a coffee table, except when they do it, it¡¯s a house. And the house comes crashing down on anyone inside. See? So many ways you could die. Abundantly helpful, as always. Shhh. I¡¯m not done. Here¡¯s the good part. Trolls are believed to be the offspring of gods and giants. It¡¯s said that many eras ago, before there were wellicks; before even the elves, the gods walked Aethonia. Cool, right? Their first creation, the giants, were carved from the mountains, suckled at the teat of the goddess Fre, and drank the sperm of Ludos himself for sustenance. Once the giants were old enough to¡­ take it another way, they became pregnant with trolls. I don¡¯t really believe the story, but it¡¯s fun. Yeah, nothing like a little incest to get your day started. See? You just¡­ get me. I¡¯d been reading Screenie¡¯s update so long, I hadn¡¯t even realized everyone was staring at me. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Your uh¡­ lute,¡± Garvis said. ¡°It¡¯s doing that thing.¡± Suddenly, my ears were attuned to music. My lute was magical. The plays-by-itself kind of magical. She had a tendency to soundtrack my life. Most of the time, it was great. Sometimes¡ªanytime I was around Lilla¡ªit wasn¡¯t. When Lilla and I trained, Roxanne¡ªthe lute¡ªstayed at camp. I wasn¡¯t Ron Jeremy, and this wasn¡¯t a Hollywood set, and I didn¡¯t need my affections broadcast to the entire world. The lack of underwear in Aethonia kind of does that for you. I ignored Screenie and did a slow circle. Roxanne usually had a good reason for playing, but as she plucked her strings, I cocked my head. ¡°Odd,¡± I said under my breath. It was a song I¡¯d never heard before, not the Battle Hymn that warned me of danger. It had a certain urgency, but was also¡­ hopeful? ¡°What do you think it means?¡± Lilla asked. She understood the ways of the lute better than anyone else, except maybe me. :::Clears throat::: You straight up told me you didn¡¯t understand it. Whatever. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°Maybe she just likes the forest?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Garvis said, bitterness in his tone. ¡°We start smelling fire and trolls, but your little lute just wanted to serenade our promenade through the woods.¡± He was right, but that didn¡¯t explain why she was playing. I would¡¯ve asked her, and believe it or not, she would have answered. But no one else in the Party knew she and I could communicate like that, and for some reason, I just didn¡¯t feel right letting them know. Perhaps because you¡¯re a big fat liar with pants on fire? Then we got our answer when a racket rose from the thickly packed trees to our left. At first, I couldn¡¯t tell if they were screams or just children playing. A moment later, however, a group of townspeople burst through¡ªdisheveled and terrified. When they saw us, their collective eyes went wide and they shifted trajectory to make a beeline our way. ¡°Please! Please! You have to help us!¡± a man in front shouted. They were still far enough away that I had to strain to hear him over Roxanne. Screenie highlighted the dark-skinned fellow. NAME: Robert ¡°Bobby¡± Brown OCCUPATION: Tent Maker RACE: Wellick SPECIAL ABILITIES: Probably making tents. Duh. Has a decent singing voice too. WEAPONS: This guy is more helpless than you. Bobby kept repeating the same thing until he was close enough to grab my shirt and shake me. ¡°Tell me, tell me, why can¡¯t I just live my life! Our village is under attack!¡± ¡°My husband is still there!¡± one woman added. ¡°And my home is aflame!¡± shouted another rather dramatically. ¡°Okay, calm down,¡± I said. Sure, that always works. ¡°Just tell us what happened,¡± I continued as if Screenie¡¯s words weren¡¯t obstructing my view of the man. Bobby¡¯s tightly spun black hair was full of dirt, leaves, and pine needles. Dirt covered his dark cheeks and nose, and a small trickle of blood leaked from a swollen lip. He was young, muscular, and good-looking. Do you wanna marry him? You can¡¯t admit when another guy is handsome? While you often refer to me as a ¡°he,¡± that doesn¡¯t make it true. I didn¡¯t have time to consider what that meant because Bobby was motoring on like a madman. ¡°They say I¡¯m crazy. I really don¡¯t care! I saw the man.¡± ¡°Who?¡± Garvis asked. At that, Bobby got a crazed look in his eye, let go of my shirt, and threw himself down beside Garvis like he¡¯d just noticed the halfling for the first time. Clutching him now, he shouted, ¡°He¡¯s mad! Chasing a troll that seemed to have gotten away from him!¡± ¡°See, I told you I smelled troll,¡± Curr said, proud of himself. ¡°Wasn¡¯t no man!¡± the woman whose husband was still in the village cried out. ¡°Just a stray troll, wrecking our town!¡± Garvis stepped backed and removed Bobby¡¯s hands, wiping at his clothes as if whisking away dirt. But that didn¡¯t stop the guy. He crawled forward on his knees, still prattling on. ¡°No matter what my friends try to tell you, there¡¯s a man chasing a troll that¡¯s destroying our village.¡± ¡°Please, mister. You have to save our homes!¡± a little boy called out from the back. Lilla stepped forward, displaying a kindness that came with soft words. ¡°We will help you. Don¡¯t worry.¡± She looked around at all of them like she was Mother Theresa. ¡°We will?¡± Garvis said, aghast. Curr brandished his axe. ¡°We will!¡± He laughed. ¡°It has been many months since I last slew foul trolls. If only Vulna and Fargus were here!¡± Ouch. Does that sting a little? Him talking about his ex like that in front of you? ¡°We don¡¯t have much to offer in exchange for your help,¡± Bobby said. ¡°But what little belongs to us, it is yours.¡± NEW OBJECTIVE: Save the village from utter annihilation. REWARD: Their worthless shit. I¡¯ll be honest, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d do this. I think you¡¯re right. This sounds dangerous. ¡°We¡¯ll help them, right, Danny?¡± Lilla asked. Without hesitation, I said, ¡°Absolutely.¡± Whoopisshhhhh. ¡°Well, what are we waiting for?¡± Curr asked. ¡°Point the way!¡± BOOK 2: CHAPTER TWO What was I thinking? While it was true, Lilla had been training me in the ways of sword fighting, I wasn¡¯t good. Not yet at least. Your skill in Self-Awareness has increased! I ignored Screenie. A wise woman once said ¡°a bard needs no sword¡± or something like that. Sounds good, but I knew I¡¯d gotten lucky, braining Varun the orc shaman with my lute. It wasn¡¯t a weapon, and I was shocked Roxanne didn¡¯t shatter into a million pieces. And as we rushed through the woods toward whatever danger lay ahead, her song shifted, and the familiar Battle Hymn slowly rose. ¡°I love that song!¡± Curr roared. He was right; the tune was invigorating. Fine¡­ Your Music has invigorated your Party! +2 Bonus to Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution for your entire Party for Duration of Battle. Happy now? Despite the buff, I couldn¡¯t stop worrying. I could take it back! I don¡¯t think you can. Roxanne did that. Screenie remained silent for once. I was concerned because I didn¡¯t even want there to be a battle. I¡¯d gotten used to peaceful travel. The last real fight I¡¯d been in was three months ago. Since then, it had all been sparing or the occasional adolescent korken. And I still had nothing but the bone sword I¡¯d stolen from one of the undead orcs back in the ruins. It was effective in that it was sharp, but as Curr had continually told me, it was like bringing a letter opener to a sword fight. Our plan was to reach Cantripoli, Pyruun¡¯s capital city. We¡¯d heard rumors that the missing piece of Roxanne might be found within the hoard of riches King Shirtaloon¡¯s grandfather¡ªor whatever¡ªplundered when the elves were defeated. We figured that was the best place to start looking. And while we were there, we¡¯d buy me a new sword. After all, with the reward money I¡¯d earned from Fa¡¯Lem, I had a good chunk of change to my name. More than I¡¯d ever had back on Earth, that was for sure, though I didn¡¯t really understand the exchange rate. But since we were now waylaid, mere hours outside of civilization, I had no choice but to put Lilla¡¯s lessons into action with a less-than-optimal blade. In modern warfare, bombs, grenades, and machine gun-fire would be expected. But here in Aethonia, battle was somehow louder and more quiet at the same time. Though there were no explosions, but metal clanged, goats bleated, and of course, people screamed. That, I figured, was true in any fight. As we neared what I could tell was the end of the tree line and the beginning of the village¡¯s boundary, the fracas got louder. And so did Roxanne. Curr was like a kid in a candy shop. Surprisingly, Lilla looked prime to go too. It was kinda hot. Keep it in your pants, big dawg. The townsfolk leading us stopped, some of them so rattled, their knees were literally shaking. ¡°It¡¯s just there,¡± Bobby said, pointing. His hand quivered. ¡°Remember, it¡¯s not just the troll.¡± ¡°Would ye shut up with that!¡± one of the townsfolk shouted. ¡°The troll be what needs doin¡¯.¡± I pushed past them as they argued. Curr and Lilla joined me, while Garvis slinked behind us. However, to his credit, had his daggers out. I don¡¯t know why I constantly doubted him. Sure, we hadn¡¯t met on great terms, but ever since the imprisonment at the ruins, he¡¯d been nothing but helpful. And dare I say, nice? No homo? You can¡¯t say that. Just did. I brushed some leaves aside, and what I saw was unlike anything I¡¯d ever witnessed in person. I¡¯d watched movies that took place during medieval times when houses made of wood with thatch roofs were ablaze, but something about viewing it with my own eyes was devastating. The sound of crackling wood¡ªnot campfire wood, but peoples¡¯ homes, shops, and whatever else¡ªmade my stomach tie up. Thick black smoke rose all around like dark omens, obscuring our view of what was actually doing the attacking. And the smell was suffocating. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Lilla said. ¡°Why is there so much fire? There¡¯s no way a Fire Troll made it this far north?¡± There are Fire Trolls? You do not want to meet a Fire Troll, let me tell you. Bobby looked ashamed. ¡°That was actually my fault,¡± he said quietly. ¡°In an attempt to weaken the troll, I may have thrown a lit torch at him. He swatted it away like a bug, and it landed on Mistress Kobe¡¯s home. From there it¡ª¡± Presumably Mistress Kobe rushed forward, smacking Bobby hard with each sharp word. ¡°That was you! You damned fool! I knew we should have castrated your father at birth!¡± That was when the smoke parted and I saw it. The troll was taller than a basketball goal. Maybe twelve to fifteen feet. It was hard to tell from this distance. Eighteen feet, four inches. Eighteen feet tall. ¡­ and four inches. Who cares about four inches? Lilla probably would. You¡¯re such an asshole. The troll did, indeed, wear clothing that was surprising well-tailored to its form, considering it seemed little more than a mindless beast. A chain whipped from a metal ring around its neck, swinging behind it and causing even more destruction as it barreled down the dirt street. The beast towered over the buildings and was obviously scared. Something was chasing it. That was a sobering thought. I was charging into this fight, assuming the most dangerous thing present was a troll, but it was frightened? Curr, on the other hand, had no fear at all. He took off at a sprint, a war cry undulating from his belly. His axe was held high, and I could tell there was no stopping him. But that didn¡¯t keep me from trying. ¡°Curr!¡± He gone. While Curr ignored me, I glanced over at Lilla talking softly with one of the children. She found my eyes, gave me a nod, and we followed Curr into battle. Garvis sighed, but I heard the little pitter-pattering halfling boots only a step behind us. And you call Curr condescending. Geesh. This was it. We were gonna fight a troll. The field that separated us was about the length of a football field¡ª And no, I don¡¯t need the exact distance. Suit yourself. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The ground was grassy, and little divots and holes made traversing it a challenge. The run there took forever. Two hundred and fifty-five yards is no simple jaunt! You just can¡¯t help yourself. All I could do was watch as home after home, shop after shop, was destroyed by a rampaging troll. With almost every movement it made, the fire spread, whether from the gusts of wind following him, or thrown cinder. And the smell was so absolutely overwhelming I couldn¡¯t¡ªand didn¡¯t want to¡ªbreathe. It was one part dead-body decaying in the woods and one part rotting onion. I gagged as I ran, my eyes filling with tears. When we entered town¡ªwhich was a really generous term for the place¡ªit became apparent, we stood no real chance. Duh. It¡¯s a troll. Even Curr needed a whole Party of braugs to take one down. No sooner had Screenie¡¯s words come across my vision than Curr was tossed aside like discarded corn husks¡ªof which there were plenty around, considering this was a farming village. The big braug crashed through a building, sending splinters and embers everywhere. A second later, the roof crashed down on top of him. ¡°Curr!¡± I shouted. He¡¯s fiiiine. Is he? ¡°Fuck this,¡± Garvis said behind me. I didn¡¯t turn to see if he¡¯d actually left, but I certainly didn¡¯t see him leading the next charge. ¡°What do we do?¡± I asked Lilla. In response, she pulled out her bow and nocked an arrow. Barely taking the time to aim, she let it loose before immediately stringing a second and firing it as well. The first bounced off the troll¡¯s thick skin, causing no harm whatsoever. The second got stuck in some of its vine-strewn clothes. ¡°Well, that didn¡¯t work,¡± Lilla said. What do we do? Would you like to access your Catalog of Songs? Is that a hint? No, it¡¯s a fucking question. Would you like to access your Catalog of Songs? Fine. I looked through the list. There were a few more since the last time I¡¯d perused the catalog. With each new Level, I gained at least a song or two. Now, at Level 7, I had a total of sixteen songs. CATALOG OF SONGS: Level 1 (Unlocked): Halfling¡¯s Gambit (7 inst. 5 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: None, unless you consider pissing Garvis off magical. Stones, Bones, and Crones (8 inst. 7 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: None Parapets of Pyruun (14 inst. 9 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? T¡¯was Morn in the Eve (14 inst. 14 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? Tillith¡¯s Last Call (20 inst. 15 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: +5 to Dexterity and Constitution for 10 Minute Duration. Level 2 (Unlocked): Hymn for Fallen Souls (23 inst. 19 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: Dispel Hostile Spirits Into the Mist (25 inst. 0 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: Teleport away from Danger (>300 Feet) Level 3 (Unlocked): Ranger¡¯s Lament (27 inst. 16 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? She Who Fights with Monstrosities (25 inst. 33 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? Level 4 (Unlocked): Promise of the Son (29 inst. 0 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: +3 Speechcraft with Elves for 24 hour Duration. Aran de Yav¡¯nal (26 inst. 31 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: Reinvigorate Party Level 5 (Unlocked): Markings of a Fool (19 inst. 13 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? A Dance with Thorns (32 inst. 0 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: Creates a whirlwind of ghostly blades (Melee Damage: 15-99 each.) Level 6 (Unlocked): Theater Dream (39 inst. 23 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? R¡¯ode tu Maz¡¯tori (41 inst. 0 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? Level 7 (Unlocked): Ascension¡¯s Path (55 inst. 48 sin.) ¡ª Magical Effects: ??? I didn¡¯t have a ton of time. Curr was busy pushing his way out of the wreckage. Screenie was right. He was fine, but he looked peeved and a little dazed. And for our part, Lilla¡¯s arrows had drawn the troll¡¯s attention. It doubled over and roared. The air from its lungs nearly knocked us over. Spittle that smelled as awful as its breath covered me. Then, it grabbed hold of a goods wagon and tossed it aside as easily as I¡¯d throw a pebble. It crashed into a wall, and I thought I heard a scream. However, I couldn¡¯t be distracted, because¡­ troll. As it started toward us, we got a good glimpse of what the creature had been running from. The strange part was that Bobby was right: it was just a man. Dressed in rags, and looking like an absolute lunatic, he trailed the troll, shouting for it to stop, trying with all his efforts to grab hold of the chain that had once, somehow and assumably, bound the thing to his control. ¡°Do you trust me?¡± I asked Lilla. She looked at me, then immediately back to the troll who was slowly approaching, as if confused by our arrival. Finally, turning back to me again, she nodded. ¡°What are you going to do?¡± I pulled Roxanne off my back and brought her to my chest. I whispered, ¡°Roxy, I want to play ¡°She Who Fights with Monstrosities.¡± Excuse me. You tell me which song you¡¯d like to play. You just heard me. Say it to me. Screenie, we don¡¯t have time for th¡ª SAY IT TO ME! Geezusssss, I want to play She Who Fights with Monstrosities! As you wish. It was one of my older songs¡ªone I¡¯d had for a few Levels¡ªbut I¡¯d never played it. I had no idea what it would do, but I had a hunch. Since Lilla was a ¡°she¡± and the troll was clearly a ¡°monstrosity,¡± I thought it was a good guess it might help in our current predicament. Look at you, being all cunning. I pressed my fingers to the fretboard, and let go of my inhibitions. Soon, the music played through me, as if Roxanne and I were one. The Instrument Playing requirement was well below my currently skill level, but the Singing was close. Even still, a melody tickled my lips, and I let it out.
In a realm where shadows dance and darkness creeps, A tale unfolds of a maiden who never sleeps. She walks the path where moonlight weaves its grace, A warrior bold, with a determined face.
The troll stopped, tilting its head as I sang. I didn¡¯t get the impression anything magical had forced him to halt. Just pure curiosity, like a dog who heard a weird sound upstairs. I continued¡­
Through enchanted woods and ancient trees, She treads the path of destinies. With armor gleaming in pale moonlight, She fights the monsters that dwell in the night. She who fights with monstrosities, A fearless heart, a soul at ease. Beneath the stars, where legends rise, She battles on ''neath the endless skies. Her sword, a whisper in the midnight air, A melody of courage, a tale so rare. Against the beasts that haunt the dreams of men, She stands undaunted as she defends. In the tapestry of time, her legend unfurls, A woman now stands where there was a girl She who fights with monstrosities, A timeless hero, there stands she.
That was pretty damn good, if I said so myself. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Lilla asked, arms raised and looking down at herself. She¡¯s positively glowing. Literally. Screenie was right. A soft, golden aura surrounded her. At this, the troll roared again. It shook me where I stood, but Lilla didn¡¯t even twitch. ¡°I feel¡­ amazing!¡± she shouted, strapping her bow to her back and pulling out her elven heun blade. The metal shinked as it slid free. Female members of your Party have been imbued with the Strength, Dexterity, and Courage of The Shield Goddess. Lilla has received +25 to Strength, Dexterity, and Courage for Duration of Battle. Additionally, all Attacks have a 80% higher chance of landing Critically. That sounded incredibly promising. ¡°Go get it, Lilla!¡± I shouted, encouraging her. What a gentleman! Shut up. You know I did my part. I¡¯d break my arm trying to cut that thing down. Probably more than your arm. Then stop giving me shit. Lilla listened, pushing off the dirt with such force, she left a small hole in the road. The next thing I knew, she was soaring toward one of the buildings. An actual streak of yellow followed her as she used the flimsy wall like a springboard, kicking off and changing directions midair to come in line with the troll¡¯s back. Her blade dug in and she hung there while the monster roared in a pained cry. But she didn¡¯t just hang on. With her other hand, she pulled a dagger free from her belt, then used the two blades to stab over and over again, climbing her way up until she reached the troll¡¯s shoulders. The troll flailed wildly, trying desperately to find the pest that was biting at it. Lilla had her heun blade free from troll flesh and ready to drive down through the thing¡¯s skull. Curr stood below, cheering her on like he was watching a soccer match. Then, a voice rang out. ¡°Stop! Stop now, or I kill the halfling!¡± In the moment between breaths, Lilla paused to hear what the new voice had to say, and she was thrown from the troll¡¯s shoulder. She fell as if in slow motion, the golden stream trailing behind her. ¡°Lilla!¡± I shouted, but she disappeared behind a plume of smoke. I could only pray she landed on a rooftop, or somewhere soft. Otherwise, a fall from that height would probably kill or paralyze her. Curr and I just stared at the troll¡¯s supposed ¡°owner¡± as he stood in the middle of the village with stupid freaking Garvis in one hand, and a knife pressed against the halfling¡¯s throat. Kindle & Audible Launch of An Unexpected Hero! It¡¯s our pleasure to announce the launch of AN UNEXPECTED HERO Book 1, available now on Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, Hardcover, and Audible narrated by the great Jeff Hays! Being full time publishers running Aethon, finding writing time is extremely difficult, so we don''t get to release that many books these days. This is a big one for us. A TON of love has gone into this volume. The Kindle and Print versions includes loads of original artwork depicting characters and scense throughout. The Audible version, narrated by Jeff Hays and Soundbooth Theater, includes original music written by Jaime Castle and Jeff Hays, performed by Jeff who both sings and plays the lute. You can get it through these links: A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Kindle: https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B0D6C6R52Y https://www.audible.com/pd/An-Unexpected-Hero-Audiobook/B0DDLHDJD9 https://www.amazon.de/-/en/Rhett-C-Bruno-ebook/dp/B0DBQRWKFT Now, some people have asked how they can help. Here it is: Reviews and Ratings on Amazon (keeping in mind that anything below a 5 on amazon basically is a downvote because their ratings skew up) will REALLY help us right now, and the nice thing is that you don''t need to buy the book to rate or review. So if anyone wouldn''t mind jumping on amazon.com and doing that, that would be fantastic. (Or your local amazon). Even a download on kindle unlimited helps a great deal, if you have it. Makes the algorithm like the book more. Either way, thank you for your support and we hope you''re enjoying the ride! Garvis Thanks you too. BOOK 2: CHAPTER THREE Let¡¯s play a little game called ¡°How many times will Garvis the ¡®master thief¡¯ get caught?¡± How was it that someone so small could consistently become such a big target? This wasn¡¯t the first time Garvis had found himself in such a position. Upon our first meeting, Curr had stopped the halfling from picking my pockets. Then, later in the elven ruins, the Sisterhood of Alyndis¡ªLilla¡¯s people¡ªhad caught him sneaking around while we were hoping to infiltrate the place and steal back my lute. Presently, Curr and I stood there, unsure what to do. The troll hadn¡¯t stopped its destructive rampage, Lilla was God-knew-where¡ªpossibly even dead¡ªand Garvis was being held at knifepoint by a guy whose motives were unclear. And me? I felt like I was in a post-apocalyptic movie¡ªalbeit, it wasn¡¯t the razing of New York City or anything. This place was small. Like maybe twenty-five-people-lived-here kind of small. But that didn¡¯t mean it was any easier to watch everything they lived and worked for burned to the ground. Fire roared, wood crackled, and the sound of goats and cows making their animal sounds had stopped. That meant only one thing. It was sad, and I didn¡¯t understand¡­ And there was a guy in front of me, golden skinned, scars covering nearly every inch of him, bite marks on his arms, and he had a missing ear. ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked through my teeth. The man¡¯s attention was torn between me, Curr, the troll that was rapidly escaping his grasp, and a squirming Garvis. ¡°That monster is valuable beyond words!¡± His words came out like fluttering bats, fast and hectic. Screenie, who is this guy? NAME: Baldree OCCUPATION: Collector RACE: Assiri SPECIAL SKILLS: He has a way with normally violent creatures. Can soothe them into obeying him and becoming one of his possessions. What we see here is him screwing up. WEAPONS: knife, obvs. Assiri, huh? That¡¯s who the Kingdom of Pyruun is at war with, right? Yes, for many years. King Shirtaloon would have used one of your nuclear bombs on the sultan¡¯s palace and the entire region long ago if they had such technology. Praise be to Ludos. Assiri or not, I had nothing against those people. I did, however, have something against this particular guy. It wasn¡¯t a race thing. Sure. Lemme guess, your best friend is Assiri? All I knew was if I didn¡¯t do something, things could get out of hand quickly. ¡°That thing is destroying this town!¡± I shouted back. Captain Obvious to the rescue! ¡°Its worth could rebuild this town ten times over. And a buyer is on his way!¡± The man looked deranged, a few screws short of a box. I honestly wouldn¡¯t have put it past him to slice Garvis¡¯ throat without a second thought if it meant somehow getting his way. ¡°Enough talk!¡± Curr growled. ¡°Trolls were made to be slain!¡± He started after the troll again, and the Collector swiftly jerked Garvis. Phrasing¡­ As predicted, the knife sliced into Garvis¡¯s neck, causing him to yelp. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Baldree the Collector said. Odd, apologizing to your captive. Garvis shouted, ¡°Quit being a yigging braug for a minute, would you?¡± This made Curr stop. His axe dropped ever so slightly. ¡°A braug is not a thing I can sometimes be.¡± ¡°Then stop being a giant oaf! He¡¯s gonna kill me.¡± Baldree¡¯s face went pale. I wasn¡¯t sure what that look was, but it didn¡¯t seem like an expression a murderer would make. Maybe he¡¯s bluffing. Maybe he¡¯s not. Feeling lucky? What do I care? Garvis abandoned us¡­ Right. The troll was now at the edge of town, having just destroyed what looked like a school. I had to try something. ¡°That troll needs to be stopped,¡± I shouted to the Collector. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a murderer. And our friend just took a huge fall. She might be hurt.¡± ¡°Put the halfling down.¡± The voice of an angel sounded from far off. I squinted through the smoke and haze to see Lilla with her bow drawn and pointed at the Collector¡¯s back. The yellow aura still pulsed all around her. Thank God she was alive. Her aura isn¡¯t the only thing pulsing. Another part of you thanks Actus, God of Small Things. Baldree the Collector went to turn, presumably to get a better look at this new aggressor. ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Lilla warned. ¡°I have an arrow aimed at your spine. I promise you, if that halfling¡¯s boots aren¡¯t on the ground in three seconds, you will breathe no longer.¡± Garvis moved his hand. It was barely noticeable, but I saw it. He gulped. ¡°Perhaps more than just my boots?¡± By now, the troll had finished its tear through the village, leaving very little standing.Giant foot-shaped potholes littered the area. A trail to the woods was carved into the dirt on the far side of town. At the sight of this, the Collector sobbed. ¡°You¡¯ve ruined everything!¡± He sounded like a petulant child. The only thing missing was stomping feet. I waved my arms around. ¡°This wasn¡¯t us.¡± I stabbed a finger his way. ¡°This was you.¡± ¡°One¡­ two¡­¡± Lilla started counting. The Collector looked like he couldn¡¯t make up his mind, but in a moment of confusion, Garvis took full advantage. The hand he had moved now rested on the grip of a dagger, which he pulled free and jammed into Baldree¡¯s thigh. Stunned, the man dropped Garvis before Lilla reached three. Garvis turned, kicked the guy in the shin, then ran off toward Curr. ¡°Ow!¡± The Collector gripped his leg. ¡°You filthy little bastard!¡± Slowly, Lilla approached, bow still drawn. Her arm was shaking a little, but I was impressed how long she could pull on that thing. Is your mind ever on anything else? Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. What is wrong with you? Fire still raged around us, snapping and hissing. Now that things were settling down, I was choking on the smoke. ¡°Get on your knees!¡± Lilla shouted. Hot¡­ Now who can¡¯t get their mind out of the gutter? The Collector blubbered as he obeyed. ¡°That was it¡­ That was my big break. That thing took ages to collect! I could have retired.¡± ¡°Shut up. Don¡¯t move,¡± Lilla ordered. ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Baldree said. ¡°The wizard is going to kill me now. Kill us all.¡± ¡°I said shut up!¡± Lilla pressed a boot to the Collector¡¯s back and shoved him over. ¡°Wizard? What wizard?¡± I asked. Suddenly, the flames around us twirled upward in a firenado, roaring hotter then ever. Then, in an instant, disappeared into the sky. All that was left of the town was smoldering ash and the church, the only building made of stone. ¡°This wizard,¡± came yet another voice. A man stepped out from the rubble. He was clothed unlike anyone I¡¯d ever seen. Red robes billowed from points at his shoulders, with silver trim embellishing the hems of his sleeves and around his ankles. A golden amulet hung from his neck. Long black hair was slicked back, and a thin, wispy goatee dangled from his chin. Damn. He¡¯s cool. NAME: Fleur Slava OCCUPATION: Professional student at the Academy of Learning RACE: Wellick SPECIAL ABILITIES: I don¡¯t know, Danny. Where did the fire go? WEAPONS: He is a weapon. ¡°Where is my troll, Baldree?¡± the man barked. ¡°I had him! I swear, I had him.¡± Baldree pounded his fists against the dirt. ¡°These idiots let him get away!¡± The newcomer made a show of looking to the spot where a troll-sized portion of the forest had been leveled.He shook his head disappointedly. ¡°Baldree, what am I going to do with you? Tsk. Tsk.¡± Then the wizard turned, appraising each of us as if we were clothing he wished to buy. ¡°And what do we have here? A braug?¡± He gave Curr a wide berth. ¡°A¡­ halfling. Cute.¡± Garvis grumbled something but kept his place behind Curr¡¯s protective leg. Once he¡¯d had his fill of Garvis, he slowly marched toward me. ¡°And¡­ what are you supposed to be?¡± He grabbed hold of my bright pink cloak, lifted it, and let it fall. ¡°A jester? Some sort of street performer?¡± Then he noticed my lute. ¡°Ah! A bard. Quite quaint.¡± ¡°And who are you?¡± I asked. The man Screenie identified as Slava shushed me. He spun away, robes fluttering on unseen wind. ¡°And this¡­¡± He strode toward Lilla. It was then I realized the golden glow that had surrounded her during the troll fight was gone. Without that extra strength, her muscles must have grown weak, though she still had her bow half cocked. You said cock. Now¡¯s not the time. It¡¯s always time for cock¡­ ¡°Here¡¯s the belle of the ball!¡± Slava said. Lilla raised her bow fully. The string creaked as it went taut under her fingertips. ¡°That¡¯s far enough.¡± Her tone carried a warning that was unmistakable. But Slava just didn¡¯t seem to care. He was brazen, that was certain. He reminded me of some action hero¡ªor perhaps villain. ¡°Oh, no,¡± he said, shaking his head again. ¡°I can hardly imagine being close enough to you.¡± He walked right up to her as if an arrow wasn¡¯t pointed directly at his heart, and drew his hand up to her face, which had now turned red. ¡°Easy.¡± He brushed his fingers through her blonde hair, which she hadn¡¯t cut since I met her. It was long now, just past the shoulder blades. He pushed a lock of it behind her pointed ear. ¡°An elf? Here so close to the capital? Perhaps that is more rare a thing than the troll you lost me!¡± His finger slid down her cheek to rest on her chin. I wanted to rip his hand off and shove it up his ass. ¡°I said, who are you?¡± I yelled as I finally got up the nerve to follow after him. I don¡¯t know what it was about this man, but there was an¡­ aura or something. He exuded power, and strength enough that even Curr hadn¡¯t made a move yet. ¡°Hey!¡± Spoke too soon, huh? Curr and his long stride took him to the wizard in only a few ground-shaking steps. If Slava cared at all that a braug was approaching his six with a sharp axe, he didn¡¯t show it. Only when Curr was within striking distance did Slava turn to face him. ¡°Relax, friend. I mean no one any harm,¡± the wizard said. With a smile, he locked eyes with Baldree the Collector, who was slowly crawling backward. ¡°Don¡¯t move, or I may be inclined to change my mind.¡± ¡°I do not like mystery,¡± Curr said. ¡°Speak in words we all understand or face my Rage.¡± ¡°What is it you would wish to know? I am a book with pages unfurled.¡± Slava pushed past Curr toward Baldree, his robe billowing. He gripped the Collector by the jaw. ¡°I made a deal with this rodent to procure me a Greenwood Troll, and he failed.¡± ¡°I told you, it was their fault,¡± Baldree argued. Slava shoved the man¡¯s face, then turned to me. ¡°You seem¡­ trustworthy¡ªfor a bard. Tell me, what transpired here?¡± You don¡¯t owe him nothin¡¯. Part of me agrees. But what¡¯s it worth to stay quiet? ¡°Bard!¡± the wizard snapped¡ªthe first hint of a temper he¡¯d shown yet. Just as quickly, he returned to his suave demeanor. ¡°I asked you a question. Do you lack hearing in the same manner in which you lack fashion sense?¡± ¡°I can hear just fine,¡± I all but growled. ¡°I just haven¡¯t decided if I have anything to say.¡± ¡°Perhaps I can persuade you.¡± Slava raised his hand and all the fire he¡¯d made disappear returned in an instant. Flames licked out from one of the near-charred buildings to tickle Garvis on the back, making him yip again. ¡°I¡ªI was bringing the troll to our agreed upon meeting place,¡± Baldree started. ¡°No!¡± Slava shouted. Then, lowering his voice, he added, ¡°I asked the bard. Tell me bard. Tell me your tale. And please, spare me the song.¡± ¡°That is a very good idea,¡± Curr said, staying close beside the man. He never let his axe rest, ensuring that any sudden movements would allow him to quickly take Slava down. I scowled at the wizard. Then with a glance toward Baldree, I said, ¡°His story is half-true.¡± ¡°Which means it is half-lie!¡± Curr said as if solving world hunger. ¡°Do tell,¡± Slava said, extending a hand. I pointed to the woods. ¡°See all those people cowering in the brush?¡± The wizard turned his head slowly, following my finger. ¡°This was their home. I don¡¯t know what agreement you had with this sad sack of worms, but it caused them to be left with nothing.¡± Slava nodded. ¡°I see. And that¡¯s a problem?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a problem for you unless you give me a good reason not to release this arrow,¡± Lilla said, bow fully raised once more. ¡°I will give you one hundred,¡± Slava said, smiling. ¡°A hundred what?¡± Curr asked. ¡°I do not like all this talking.¡± Slava placed a hand on Curr¡¯s shoulder, making the braug tense. ¡°Join me as I hunt the troll. When the task is complete, you will be handsomely rewarded.¡± ¡°Hunt!¡± Curr shouted. ¡°Rewarded?¡± Garvis asked, but before anyone could answer, I raised a hand to shush everyone, and spoke up. ¡°And the people of this town?¡± You really are becoming a hero! Or at least learning to sound like one. You have gained +1 to Speechcraft. Your Speechcraft is now 21 (+11). ¡°Don¡¯t fear for them,¡± Slava said. ¡°The Academy is well aware of my work, for it is they that supplied the funds to acquire the troll this worthless devil was unable to deliver. They will see to the restoration of this pitiful place. Indeed, it will be better off for their forced involvement.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all fine, but when you say ¡®handsomely rewarded¡¯?¡± Garvis asked again, a gleam in his eye. ¡°You shut up,¡± I said to him. ¡°What were you even doing? Running away from a fight¡­¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t run away.¡± ¡°You got caught!¡± I shouted. ¡°Again!¡± Garvis shook his head. ¡°No, I was working an angle. I saw that creepy yigging shogface¡­¡± He pointed to Baldree, ¡°¡­ and thought I could get the drop on him.¡± It was now Slava¡¯s turn to hold up a hand. ¡°The longer you talk, the farther that troll ventures.¡± He turned back to me. ¡°What do you say, bard? Looking for new material? I can assure you, the tale will be a grand one.¡± ¡°We do not need him having more reason to sing,¡± Curr said. I sighed, and rolled my eyes. ¡°We have business in the capital.¡± It was true. Though, I had to admit, my hopes weren¡¯t high. But it was all we had to go on. And the plan, as loose as it was, seemed impossible. Break into the castle treasure room and somehow find a small gem? You¡¯ve done harder things! Like what? I don¡¯t know. I was just trying to be encouraging. Geez. ¡°As do I,¡± Slava said. ¡°I¡¯ve been so rude. I believe this encounter might have painted me as something I am not. Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Slava, and I study at the Academy of Learning. You¡¯ll forgive my theatrics, surely. I will splay the truth out before you like a feast for eating. That troll very well might be the key to unlocking the cure for many ailments amongst wellicks and elves alike.¡± With that statement, he turned his attention to Lilla. ¡°If you would accompany me, the Academy will offer recompense to this town as well as one hundred gold pieces to each of you for your efforts. I assure you, this is of the utmost importance.¡± ¡°Done!¡± Garvis shouted as he ran toward us. ¡°You don¡¯t speak for all of us,¡± I growled. ¡°And you,¡± Slava said to Lilla as she lowered her bow and joined our growing circle. ¡°My apologies for my behavior. I have an overwhelming fascination with things that differ so greatly from me.¡± ¡°I am not a thing,¡± she said, terse. Slava bowed. ¡°Again, my sincerest regrets for choosing my words so without care.¡± Curr closed in on us now, leaving Baldree on the outside. I watched as he scurried away. ¡°Your friend is getting away,¡± I said. Slava didn¡¯t even look. ¡°His value is diminished now in my eyes.¡± He pulled out a bag of what I conjectured from the sound to be gold. ¡°And now, his failure to transact has given you and your friends a potential payday. Let him run. It won¡¯t be long until one of his detainees ends his life. Now, what say you?¡± Worry creased my forehead. This was a distraction from the goal of finding my lute¡¯s missing piece, and we¡¯d seen what that troll was capable of. Curr pulled me aside. Lilla followed. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. ¡°Danny, I have not been thrown bodily like that in many years. It was exhilarating. I say we accept this quest.¡± ¡°You¡ªwhat?¡± I looked from Curr to Lilla who now walked toward us. She took stock of the destruction surrounding us. ¡°If our involvement means these people have their lives and homes restored, I have to agree.¡± ¡°Indeed, they will be restored beyond what they previously had,¡± Slava said, appearing as if out of nowhere behind Curr. ¡°So we are in agreement?¡± I gave one last glance around the circle. ¡°You¡¯re all sure?¡± When everyone nodded, none more exuberantly than Garvis. I sighed and shook Slava¡¯s hand. ¡°Fine.¡± NEW OBJECTIVE: Find and capture the Greenwood Troll. REWARD: 100gp, and the knowledge that your actions helped a bunch of strangers who probably wouldn¡¯t have done the same for you. Book 2: CHAPTER FOUR (Part 1) ¡°You wanna explain yourself?¡± I kept my voice low as I grilled Garvis. He and I walked at the back of the search party, warily watching the new guy as he led us on a wild troll chase. Reality was, it wasn¡¯t too difficult to follow a frightened troll through the forest. Trees were felled on every side, creating an easy trail for us to travel¡ªapart from the handful of times so many had toppled over they created a blockade. Even then, we just rerouted until we came back to the path clearly marked by the troll¡¯s desperate escape. ¡°Explain what?¡± Garvis asked, wrinkles forming on his forehead and nose. ¡°You saw what yigging happened. I stabbed that bastard in his rotten leg.¡± ¡°You got caught again. That¡¯s the third time in the short period I¡¯ve known you.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t get caught¡ªI mean, I did. But it wasn¡¯t my fault. No, really. Not that I gotta explain myself to you, boyo, but here¡¯s how it went down: I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Had a perch right above the copper-skinned prick. It was a great perch. The best. When he ran down the road, chasing after the troll, I would have leapt off the church, and boom. His part of the threat would have been over. What¡ªyou think I¡¯d have been much help head to head against a yigging troll?¡± He¡¯s got you there. ¡°No, I guess not. But you got caught.¡± ¡°Only because the shog-eater threw a godsdamned wagon at me!¡± His outburst caused Slava to turn and shush him. Garvis lowered his voice, but barely. ¡°I was sitting there, preparing to save the day, like I do, when a big ass cart smashed the wall beside me. Of course, that drew the bastard¡¯s attention. Not to mention, the wheel or something came loose and knocked me off the ledge. Still, I was aimed right at him, but he caught me. Kept my knife from, you know, sinking in.¡± He made a gesture of stabbing and twisting. ¡°You were gonna kill him?¡± I asked, incredulous. ¡°Kill him, maim him, chop off his pecker. Whatever it took.¡± I decided to ignore that last part in lieu of a much more important subject matter. ¡°But you didn¡¯t even know why he was chasing the troll.¡± ¡°Listen, bard. You can playact as hero all you want, but that ain¡¯t me. I¡¯m a thief. I¡¯m a scoundrel. I thrive in the shadows. I know my role in this life, and it would be best if you made up your shog-licking mind before it¡¯s too late.¡± I thought about that for a second. Was he right? At one point, Screenie told me I had to find my purpose, and while I might have discovered part of it with Roxanne, I still wasn¡¯t sure that was the whole story. Who was I in this world? Why had I been brought here in the first place? Was it just dumb luck, or was there some greater plan that God or Ludos or goddamn Buddha had for me? Buddha doesn¡¯t even think of you. Curr laughing disrupted my consideration of Screenie¡¯s insult. Then, looking over his shoulder, Curr insulted me instead. ¡°See, Danny, your legs are short. You are walking at the same pace as a halfling.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. We¡¯re talking,¡± I said. ¡°About what?¡± Lilla asked, slowing a bit. Garvis gave me a look that implied he¡¯d rather not bring the whole party in on the conversation. So, I did what is apparently my favorite thing in the whole world, I lied. ¡°Our favorite song.¡± ¡°That is a stimulating conversation,¡± Curr said. ¡°Mine is ¡®Three Bloody Orcs.¡¯ What is yours?¡± Yeah, Danny, tell them. What was it again? ¡°Shake It Off¡± by Taylor Swift? What was I supposed to say? Other than the songs in my catalog, I didn¡¯t know the name of any songs people would sing in Pyruun. So, guess what I did? ¡°Yeah, I like that one too.¡± Curr stopped walking. He glared at me, an unreadable expression plastered across his face. Then, finally, after my palms started sweating, he said, ¡°I am surprised you know it. Every braug mother sings it to their children, but few wellicks have heard of it. Perhaps you are more well-traveled than I had originally perceived.¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Wow. I can¡¯t believe he bought that. I think that deserves a point! You have gained +1 to Deception. Your Deception is now 6. Then Curr got excited. ¡°We should sing it together!¡± ¡°I¡ªuh.¡± Uh-oh. Think fast! ¡°Bah! You are right,¡± Curr said. ¡°I would not want to spoil my favorite song with the memory of your terrible voice singing it. Forget I said anything.¡± That was close. Good thing you have decent Luck. You know, this is like a terrible 90s sitcom. All of these conversations would be easier if Curr knew the truth¡­ I did something I¡¯d also become pretty good at; I ignored Screenie again. Ahead, Lilla and Slava had stopped. And no, it didn¡¯t bother me one bit that they had been walking side-by-side this whole time. Self-Deception doesn¡¯t count. ¡°That smell again,¡± Curr said. ¡°Yes, braug. We are getting close to our quarry,¡± Slava agreed. I swore I could see the bloodlust creeping into Curr¡¯s eyes. I¡¯d never seen him look at a woman¡ªor a man, for that matter¡ªlike this. It was an exhilaration he reserved only for battle. I absently wondered if that was something I could learn. Could I one day be that kind of warrior? I feel like you know this answer already. You have to admit, I¡¯ve been getting pretty good with a sword. Lilla has been going easy on you. That¡¯s a lie. Maybe. Perhaps you¡¯ll just have to ask her¡­ I found myself staring at the back of Lilla¡¯s head, and thinking back to all our training sessions. No. She hasn¡¯t. I would have known. I growled and pushed past Curr, making my way up to the front of the group. Squeezing myself between Lilla and the wizard, I cleared my throat. ¡°Oh, hi, Danny,¡± she said. ¡°Bard,¡± Slava acknowledged. ¡°Are you prepared for what is to come?¡± ¡°Fighting a troll?¡± ¡°We will not be fighting a troll. We will be capturing a troll. Alive.¡± Curr spoke up, a bit of panic in his tone. ¡°But that will involve fighting, yes?¡± ¡°My research would commence sooner and proceed smoother if the creature returned to the Academy undamaged.¡± Curr swore a braug word I¡¯d never heard before, then turned to Lilla. ¡°I am sorry for my crass outburst. It was not directed at you.¡± Lilla inclined her head slightly. I assumed whatever he¡¯d said was something derogatory toward women in general. Or maybe elves? No, it was women. And it was baaaaad. Sort of like the English version of Cun¡ª That¡¯s enough. I get it. ¡°Why aren¡¯t we moving?¡± I asked. ¡°Something is not right,¡± Slava responded. Lilla and I shared a glance. She motioned to the bone sword sheathed at my hip. I raised my eyebrows, but she insisted as she pulled her own heun blade free. We stood there, the five of us, weapons drawn in an empty forest while a wizard we just met sniffed the bark of a tree. It was dead silent for about thirty seconds before Garvis couldn¡¯t take it anymore. ¡°Someone yigging say¡ª¡± ¡°This way,¡± Slava interrupted. ¡°And stay vigilant.¡± He rushed off, and we followed him through a shallow creek. I¡¯d never been so grateful for my elven-made boots that kept my feet totally dry as we waded through gently rushing water. Since, for a halfling, it would have been the deep-end of a swimming pool, Curr carried Garvis on his shoulders like father and son at a sporting event. ¡°This is humiliating,¡± Garvis groaned. ¡°I could let you swim,¡± Curr offered, serious as could be. ¡°Just get us across.¡± I wouldn¡¯t want to paint the wrong picture; there was nothing treacherous about the task. However, without knowing where we were going, it all felt kind of¡­ intimidating. We didn¡¯t know this guy from Adam. He could have been leading us all out here just to set the forest on fire and kill us. I¡¯ve seen crazier things on CNN. Once on the other side, Slava stopped, this time kneeling to smell a clump of damp dirt. He brought it to his nose, wafted it around a bit, made a face, then let it plop to the ground again. ¡°How is smelling trees and mud going to help us?¡± I asked. ¡°This is not mud.¡± The wizard stood and wiped his hand on a tree. ¡°It is snotfing excrement.¡± *** SNOTFINGS: It¡¯s entirely unknown how this species came about. The smallest of the goblin-kin, it¡¯s more likely they were the result of a goblin getting its freak on with some sort of primate. Wild, huh? Whe¡ª I don¡¯t think making babies works like that. What do you know about making babies? I know that I couldn¡¯t bang a gorilla and make a yeti. Have you tried? ¡°If snotfings are present, that means we are likely too late,¡± Slava said. ¡°Come, there may still yet be time to save the troll.¡± ¡°Save the troll¡­¡± I laughed. Slava turned on me in an instant. ¡°Do not forget the importance of my mission. Now, let¡¯s go.¡± He twirled, his robes sending a gust of hot wind my way. I stood there like a kid who¡¯d just been scolded by the school principal. Lilla followed immediately. Still didn¡¯t bother me. Curr, on the other hand, seemed more downtrodden than usual. ¡°What¡¯s up, big guy?¡± I asked. Curr sighed. ¡°Snotfings are even punier and weaker than you.¡± ¡°Gee, thanks.¡± Curr smiled, but there was no mirth in it. ¡°I am sorry, Danny. I did not mean it like that. I just¡­ hoped for something more.¡± Wow. That might have been the first time Curr ever apologized to me for insulting me. It felt kind of ni¡ª ¡°Perhaps they are not quite as weak as you.¡± He started off after Lilla and Slava. I couldn¡¯t help but laugh and shake my head. Garvis fell into step behind Curr. Without anything else to do, I took up the rear. Yeah you did. Book 2: CHAPTER FOUR (Part 2) We knew we were close when the troll smell got so bad we couldn¡¯t breathe. There was a sort of strange nostalgia about it. When I¡¯d first entered Aethonia, back in Nahal, everything and everyone had a stench I had trouble adjusting to. I guess back in the real world¡ªan odd phrase¡ªthings smelled¡­ cleaner. People bathed, used anti-perspirant, washed their clothing¡­ and had toilet paper! Oh my God, I forgot toilet paper at the top of my list of things I¡¯d be happy to return to Willistown for! A resounding roar echoed through the woods, sending the whole party into responses I found quite fitting for each. Curr, of course, perked up a bit at the sound of something apparently more challenging than a snotfing, and let out a battle cry of his own. He raised his axe and pounded his chest. Lilla readied her bow, instinctively dropping to a crouch. Garvis, now subconscious after getting caught by Baldree the Collector I''m sure, peered around and did his best to mimic the others. However, it looked forced as he pulled his daggers and gave them a spin. ¡°This is no time for music, bard!¡± Slava whisper-shouted. He turned to see Roxanne still strapped to my back and furrowed his brow. ¡°We will discuss that.¡± I shrugged and slid my Orcish Bone Sword from its sheath. ¡°For Tarton!¡± Curr cried as he led the charge forward. ¡°Do not injure the troll!¡± Slava shouted, rushing after the big braug. We pushed through branches thick with leaves and emerged to find an odd sight. Curr¡¯s whole demeanor changed in an instant. ¡°It is snotfings,¡± he said, disappointed. ¡°I was hoping for an Owlbear or two.¡± OWLBEARS: As you could imagine, bears and owls aren¡¯t exactly compatible¡­ partners. It¡¯s more likely that, like korkens, were an experiment gone wrong or perhaps a joke played by some god. Either way, owlbears are ferocious predators, and one of the only known things capable of felling a troll. Thanks, Steve Urwin. The guy couldn¡¯t even handle stingrays. That¡¯s a low blow, dude. And how do you know this stuff?? ¡°If we cannot hurt the troll,¡± Curr continued, ¡°this will be quite boring.¡± He took a seat, crosslegged by the bushes. ¡°Oh, yeah!¡± Garvis exclaimed. ¡°Finally, an enemy my size. Stand back, boys and girls.¡± NEW OBJECTIVE: Kill the snotfings. Save the troll. Preferably in that order. REWARD: Satisfy Slava¡¯s desire to keep a monster alive and be one step closer to 100gp. I admit, this objective is wildly close to the last one. Just roll with it. The scene splayed out before us would have been sad under certain circumstances. Little green creatures about the size of small monkeys¡ªyou know, like the one Joey had on Friends. Actually, that was Ross. Really? Are you sure? Of course, I''m sure. But aren''t there more important concerns than a stupid TV show? You take that back. Friends is a national treasure. Could your priorities BE any more skewed? Whatever. So, the monkey Ross had. From the look of things, there were hundreds of them, and they climbed up and down the troll, scratching and biting. I was surprised to see that their nails and teeth did anything at all considering Lilla''s arrows had bounced right off. SNOTFINGS are the smallest members of the goblin family, sharing many of the same attributes and characteristics. Didn¡¯t you already do this? You interrupted, like usual. :::Clears throat::: Snotfings live, travel, and hunt in swarms. Were one to be found alone, even a child would have little difficulty defeating them, assuming they possessed even the fairest of Melee Weapon Combat Skills. But in numbers this high¡ªas you can see¡ªthey pose a threat even to a Greenwood Troll. It helps that they can squeeze their way into places trolls find difficult to reach. Can you imagine being so big you can¡¯t reach your own ass? ¡°Look at him go!¡± Curr shouted. I bet Curr can¡¯t reach his either. Having no idea a weird sentient screen that only I could see was talking about him, Curr stood, reclaiming some of his earlier vigor. He pumped his axe three times, and barked out encouragement to Garvis, who weaved intricate patterns through the trees. The little halfling was something else, I had to admit, hopping from branch to branch and swiping and slashing his blades. One after another, the tiny green snotfings fell to his attacks. Stolen story; please report. He''s doing well now, but wait until they realize what¡¯s happening. ¡°He¡¯s doing well now,¡± I said. ¡°But wait until they realize what¡¯s happening.¡± Hey, what are you, my shadow? ¡°The bard is right,¡± Slava said. I¡¯m right! ¡°There are too many of them, and they are quick,¡± Slava continued. ¡°I cannot use my fire for fear of injuring the troll.¡± Even as he spoke, Lilla began picking the creatures off with well-placed arrows. ¡°Please, be careful!¡± Slava shouted. Lilla ignored him and unleashed another onslaught, killing at least four more of the yipping little buggers. ¡°Go, have some fun, Danny!¡± Curr called. ¡°For someone of your stature, these creatures will be just dangerous enough to provide you with a challenge.¡± You know what? He was right. I had a sword, and Lilla and I had worked hard over the past months. And no, she hadn¡¯t been going easy on me. It would be nice to put my practice to use against an enemy that was relatively harmless. They are not harmless. Remember, their teeth and claws are sharp enough to rend troll flesh. I said ¡°relatively¡±. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement¡ªa flash of green skin and crooked teeth. I spun. The creature¡¯s beady eyes glistened with mischief, and though it was small¡ªno taller than my knee¡ªit buzzed with a frenetic energy, and I felt that familiar surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. On my back, Roxanne continued her song. Your Music has invigorated your Party! +2 Bonus to Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution for your entire Party for Duration of Battle. ¡°Alright, you little prick,¡± I said as it inched its way toward me. Its face split in a crooked-toothed grin¡ªa foul mix of enthusiasm and malice. ¡°Think you can take me on? I¡¯m starving for some fun!¡± What is this, a Die Hard movie? Just kill the damn thing. But before I could make a move, the whole battlefield shifted. The snotfings turned their attention from the troll to us. They moved like a wave, a churning mass of limbs and lanky bodies. But it wasn¡¯t like they charged as one unit. They gave no care for their compatriots whatsoever, crawling over one another, fighting for the first place in line to attack. I clenched my fists, my heart pounding in my chest. Deep breath, I squared my shoulders. ¡°Curr?¡± I said, questioning whether or not he was going to join in. Suddenly, a swath of flames licked out from Slava¡¯s hands, engulfing the snotfings that had carelessly left the protection they hadn¡¯t known they had on the troll¡¯s back. At the same time, the troll started flailing, sending the little monsters every which way. I had to leap aside to avoid being pelted by one. When I rose, I was face to face on my hands and knees to one of the things. ¡°Come on then!¡± I shouted, trying to mask my fear with bravado. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got!¡± The first snotfing leaped at me, its teeth and claws glinting in the firelight. I sidestepped just in time, feeling the rush of air as it hurtled past. My feet danced in tempo with Roxanne¡¯s playing, and I bobbed and weaved until I found and opening and stabbed. When I felt my sword sink into the supple flesh of what looked like a baby, I twisted, cranked the blade to the side, and pulled it free, effectively gutting the little shit. Level 4 Snotfing slain! You have gained +1 to Melee Weapon Combat. Your Melee Weapon Combat is now 20. Could you turn off until I¡¯m done figh¡ª I didn¡¯t finish the sentence before feeling something stab into my side. I had a moment of what I might think was PTSD, being that the last time I¡¯d been injured in that very spot, I¡¯d woken up on Kiel Shorthand¡¯s hospital table. Thankfully, this was nothing like the korken attack. I whirled around, feeling a little tear in my flesh. I shot out a kick, sending my attacker sprawling backward into a thicket of brambles. I barely had time to feel vindicated before two more rushed me¡ªone swinging a rock over its head like a grotesque bowling ball, the other darting through the confusion with a shriek. In a moment of complete clarity, I raised an arm and whispered a soft word in elvish. A blue glow of energy erupted in front of me from the elven bracer one my wrist. It deftly deflected the rock, but the impact still stung, and sent me staggering back a step. Using that momentum, I pivoted and swung my leg out in a wide arc, catching the second snotfing off guard. It tumbled to the ground, bouncing into the dirt with a surprised grunt. But Slava was right, there were too many. I could hear the thudding of tiny feet all around me, a swarm of green fury. The air was thick with their high-pitched cackles, which made my head spin. Needing to put some distance between myself and their chaotic charge, I darted toward the treeline. There was a moment of confusion among them, a flicker of hesitation as if they were recalibrating their strategy. That¡¯s when the troll moved again. The ground shook with barbaric savagery as it slammed a boulder-sized fist down hard, taking out twenty or more of the snotfings in a single blow. More cascaded down from its back, allowing Slava to unleash another blast of fire. ¡°Fine!¡± Curr shouted. ¡°I¡¯ll join in!¡± He took off like some kind of demon-possessed elephant, and swung his axe back and forth, severing heads, arms, torsos, and anything else in his blood-thirsty path. ¡°Danny, duck!¡± I heard behind me. Thankfully, I listened, and one of Lilla¡¯s arrows whizzed by my head. What if I hadn¡¯t heard her! She must really trust you. Or she doesn¡¯t care. Could go either way. I rolled to the side before rising, in case Lilla wasn¡¯t done. A cluster of four snotfings stared at me from a few meters away. A flicker of doubt danced across their faces before it was swallowed by their instinct to swarm. They rushed me, and feeling really damn good about myself, I welcomed them. My blade sliced into the mass of green as I followed Roxanne¡¯s song and twirled. Nice moves, Ballerina Danny. The snotfings were ready for me, dodging and weaving as they sought openings to strike. They were like a pack of wild dogs, relentless, and for every one I managed to fend off, more came. My muscles burned with fatigue, but I pressed on, dodging the slashing claws and gnashing teeth that snapped close enough for me to feel their rotten breath. With each swing, my control strengthened, the chaos becoming a throbbing rhythm I could feel within me. I moved through them, redirecting their attacks, using their own impetus against them. I was panting, the effort pushing me to my limits, but when I turned to check on the rest of the Party, I was surprised to see the battle was nearing an end. Only a few snotfings remained, the rest either dead or in retreat. Garvis slit the throat of one. Curr kicked another so high in the air, I literally couldn¡¯t see where it landed. Lilla stabbed her¡¯s through the eye with an arrow as it got too close for ranged combat. And Slava stood beside the troll, holding a fiery rope that attached to the creature¡¯s neck but somehow, didn¡¯t burn it. The troll stood stock-still, as if paralyzed. ¡°My friends,¡± Slava said, stretching his free hand out to send a fireball hurtling toward a fleeing snotfing. ¡°We have done it. We have saved our quarry.¡± OBJECTIVE COMPLE¡ª Just then, there was a loud screech, ear-piercing and debilitating. I fell to my knees, hands covering my ears, but I watched with blurry eyes as the trees bent backward, and a golden dragon the size of a small mansion swooped down and clamped its jaws around the troll. Its teeth severed Slava¡¯s fire rope, and in an instant, the dragon took flight again, and was gone. OBJECTIVE FAILED¡­ ¡°Well, shit,¡± I said. Book 2: CHAPTER FIVE ¡°There it is,¡± Slava said, head drooping. ¡°The object of my ambitions. Destroyed. I cannot believe it. So many years of my life, wasted in a moment.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said, standing. My entire body shook. I just saw a dragon. A real fucking dragon. ¡°Ah, yes. Well, there is nothing to be done here. It was a well-fought battle, all of your. But I must admit defeat. I fear the troll is dead.¡± ¡°What clued you in?¡± Garvis asked, wiping snotfing blood off his cheek. ¡°I sincerely apologize for wasting your time,¡± Slava said. ¡°Now, I must return to the Academy of Learning and receive my penance.¡± ¡°Go back?¡± I said. ¡°Now wait a yigging minute, you shog-sniffer,¡± Garvis growled. Kind of a funny sound coming from someone so small. ¡°You promised gold.¡± ¡°If we captured the troll,¡± Slava reminded. ¡°But I fear the troll is no longer available to my needs. Now, we should leave here before the sun is swallowed up by night and things more dangerous than trolls or snotfings come out to have their fun.¡± Slava started back through the woods. ¡°And what of the town?¡± Lilla asked. Slava spun back, wearing a look like she¡¯d just asked the most selfish question possible. ¡°You speak of gold and peasants when I have just suffered such a tragic loss?¡± It was Lilla¡¯s turn to pull a face. ¡°I ask you of two dozen people who have suffered a far greater tragedy!¡± ¡°I know it may be difficult for one such as you to understand, but what is a handful of homes compared to the remedy for life¡¯s most dire pestilences? What is a village in the face of ridding the world of disease? That troll¡ªwhich has taken me years to procure¡ªcould have changed the world.¡± ¡°One such as me?¡± Lilla demanded. ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± ¡°Again, I meant no disrespect. I simply¡ª¡± ¡°I do not understand either,¡± Curr said, stepping forward with all his braugy bluster. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t, you ignorant braug!¡± Curr growled and rushed forward, grabbing Slava by the robes and raising him off the ground. In response, a ball of fire blossomed in the wizard¡¯s hand. Everyone grew still and quiet as the air gently sizzled. ¡°Release me or roast.¡± Curr grinned. ¡°Gladly.¡± He took a step back and dropped Slava directly into a mound of snotfing intestines. The wizard¡¯s fire extinguished, and as he rose, wiping off his clothes, he spoke softly. ¡°My apologies for insulting you.¡± ¡°It is not nice to insult people,¡± Curr said. I stared at him, slack-jawed. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡± Curr turned to me. ¡°No, Danny. Ill-spoken words can do just as much damage as swords and axes. You should bear that in mind on occasion as well.¡± I was speechless. That¡¯s a first. Lilla, however, wasn¡¯t. She fumed at Slava. ¡°You sure have a habit of speaking without regard for others, and expect us to sweep your self-righteous egregiousness under the proverbial rug.¡± Yeah! You get him, Lilla. ¡°Yes.¡± Slava nodded. ¡°I know. It is the curse of my intellect. I must learn to tamper my emotions so my outward actions reflect the genius within.¡± Is this guy for real? As real as anything here in Aethonia. What does that mean? ¡°So what now?¡± Garvis asked, annoyed. ¡°We followed you into these woods. Crossed a veritable ocean¡­¡± I snickered. He glared at me. ¡°¡­ and we get nothin¡¯ for our troubles?¡± Slava sighed. ¡°I will make you a bargain¡ª¡± ¡°You already did that, boyo, and now you¡¯re not good on your word.¡± Garvis point to Curr. ¡°Teach him a lesson, big guy.¡± ¡°It is never wise to swim before digestion,¡± Curr said. Garvis¡¯ face turned red. ¡°Are you always this stupid?¡± Curr tilted his head, but I stepped between them. ¡°Stop it, both of you.¡± ¡°I did not do anything,¡± Curr argued. ¡°Let the wizard speak,¡± I said. ¡°Yes, I agree,¡± Lilla said. Geez. You two¡­ ¡°What¡¯s your bargain?¡± I asked. Slava sighed. ¡°You follow me back to the Academy. I am sure something can be arranged. Perhaps not the gold I have pledged, and I suspect the elders will have little interest in investing their limited resources in rehabilitating the town now that the troll is dead¡ª¡± Lilla raised an objection that Slava shot down by speaking louder. ¡°However, I believe we might find something of worth to make your journey more pleasant.¡± With this, he smiled at Lilla, and I was glad to see that she returned only a scowl. Still, I pressed a steadying hand toward her. Arguing with Slava wasn¡¯t going to accomplish anything meaningful, and he was right about our time out here in the woods being limited. I¡¯d fought orcs and goblins before. I had no desire to do so again tonight. Then, an idea struck me. This won¡¯t be good. Have a little faith, huh? I cleared my throat. ¡°Perhaps with your high standing at the Academy, you could get us an audience with the king?¡± Slava eyed me with curiosity. ¡°The king? King Shirtaloon?¡± ¡°Is there another king I don¡¯t know about?¡± I asked. Then in my head, I posed the same question to Screenie. There isn¡¯t, right? Not in Pyruun. ¡°That is a fine idea, Danny,¡± Curr said. ¡°That will allow us to¡ª¡± I cut Curr off before he could spill our plan to this complete stranger. ¡°Meet the king. Yes, Curr. That would be the plan, right?¡± Curr shook his head. ¡°No, the plan was to¡ª¡± Garvis interrupted this time. ¡°That¡¯s a fine idea. So, wizard, what do you think?¡± Slava stroked his beard. ¡°Right. An audience with the king.¡± He paced a bit as if mulling it over. ¡°I think we could arrange that.¡± And that is how we enter the castle. *** We had only been a dozen or so miles south of the capital city when we were distracted by the troll attack, and since we encountered no other disturbances, we arrived after a couple of hours walking. I, for one, was thrilled to see civilization. That said, it was civilization unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen. And the worst part was I couldn¡¯t even let my awe show. Surely, it would be expected of anyone who lived in this world to have seen or at least heard about Cantripoli.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Before me, a giant city spanned in all directions for countless miles. Seven miles. Not countless. Seven. Still, that¡¯s pretty big, right? They don¡¯t call it the capital for nothing. The walls gleamed like silver, though I was sure it wasn¡¯t. The buildings were nothing like Nahal or the other podunk towns we¡¯d passed in our travels. It actually looked more like the elven ruins had they not been, well, ruined. These buildings were tall, some of them dozens of stories. And above it all¡ªliterally floating on a rock island¡ªthe castle. Or maybe I¡¯d have called it a palace. It¡¯s a castle. Would you like to hear its history? Not now. Harrumph. Like the city walls, it shone like a prism in the sun. What looked like miniature airplanes or something rose from the ground. Hence my difficulty maintaining the composure of one who should have been familiar with these oddities in the middle of a medieval style world. Screenie, what is going on over there? Now you want my sage words? If you¡¯re gonna be a dick¡­ Fine. One can only reach the castle on the King¡¯s own pride. What is that supposed to mean? ¡°And there she is!¡± Slava announced, interrupting my inner dialogue with Screenie. ¡°The most beautiful building in all the capital. The Academy of Learning¡­¡± He pointed afar off to what looked almost like a modern-day sky scraper. Though if I had to guess, what looked like gleaming glass was actually crystal. Right you are. The Academy of Learning is constructed from Sulhas Crystal, a rare and expensive mineral found in Assiri. It¡¯s actually one reason Pyruun is at war. Because they mined some stones? Not just some stones. Nearly the entire deposit. It resulted in the caving in of one of Assiri¡¯s most populated cities, killing tens of thousands. Yikes. Sure, Danny. Yikes sounds like the best response. ¡°The Assiri must not be happy about that,¡± I said, hoping to show my friends I knew a thing or two. Instead, they looked at me like I was a moron. Worse, there was a bit of shock on their faces. ¡°Danny, that was very insensitive,¡± Curr said. ¡°Even for you.¡± I can never just have a win, can I? You¡¯re the one who insists on saying stupid things. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°As well you should be. I fought alongside brave men in that war. It is pointless. No one is happy about this war.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no one,¡± Lilla said, eyeing Slava who was barely paying attention now that the Academy of Learning was in sight. It really was an incredible thing. I found it hard to believe people could build such an edifice without the use of heavy machinery. Ever heard of a thing called magic? They used magic to build it? The Academy of Learning isn¡¯t some Ivy League university. Those who choose to attend¡ªor rather those who are chosen to attend¡ªspend the bulk of their lives studying the ways of Pruthkrama. Are you gonna make me ask? It¡¯s nice to be needed. But no. Pruthkrama is a term used by Pyruunians to describe the relationship between spirit and elements. In other words, witchcraft. I¡¯ve always thought of witchcraft as a bad thing. Who said it isn¡¯t? That statement¡ªwhich felt a lot like a warning¡ªcaused me to turn to Slava with nearly the same expression of suspicion that was etched on Lilla¡¯s face. ¡°The city gates will be closed until sunrise,¡± Slava said. ¡°They close the gates at night?¡± I asked, immediately realizing that should have been something I knew. ¡°A fairly new thing,¡± Slava said. I almost let out a sigh of relief. ¡°With the Assiri getting closer to our borders, Captain Valerios believed it would be prudent to take precautions against any sort of surprise attack.¡± Getting closer to our borders? It¡¯s smart you didn¡¯t say that one out loud. Everyone in Pyruun knows that war on the royal soil is imminent. That sounds bad. War is always bad, Danny. ¡°We should make camp here,¡± Slava offered. ¡°On the periphery of town.¡± ¡°What about¡­ orcs and stuff?¡± I asked. Curr laughed. Slava laughed. They both looked at each other, and stopped, as if embarrassed that they both shared the same emotion. ¡°Danny, my sweet, innocent, unworldy, Danny,¡± Curr said in a tone on would use to speak to an invalid. ¡°This close to town, no orc or any other creature that would pose a threat would dare travel.¡± ¡°I knew that,¡± I said. ¡°Then why would you¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know Curr. I¡¯m tired, okay? Let¡¯s just make camp.¡± Curr shook his head. ¡°I will never understand you. I will get a fire going.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t fire hands over there just, you know, poof one?¡± Garvis asked. ¡°I will not allow such a simple task to be delegated to magic,¡± Curr said, already starting to gather sticks. I sighed. I was really beginning to think I belonged here in Aethonia, but it seemed like there was just so much I didn¡¯t know. But one thing I did know was music, and I¡¯d been lugging around this enchanted, magical lute for so long, and rarely had an opportunity alone to just¡­ fiddle. It¡¯s a hard thing to explain to someone who isn¡¯t a musician, but if I went too long without playing, it felt like a part of my soul was missing. And all these months, traveling with companions through dangerous lands¡ªwhen one of which had already broken one of my instruments because he hated my playing¡ªI never felt comfortable just learning what Roxanne and I could do together. ¡°Do you mind if I venture off a little bit on my own?¡± I asked. Without looking up from his work, Curr said, ¡°Please, just bury it when you are done.¡± ¡°Not for¡ªyou know what, never mind. I¡¯ll be back after awhile. Just need some time alone.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ that!¡± Curr said. My face went red, and I avoided eye contact with Lilla, but did my best to ignore the comment. I strolled off through the trees until I felt I was far enough away from everybody that they wouldn¡¯t hear my playing. There was a small creek in the woods in Willistown, just a mile or so from my house growing up. The town was super small, a couple of hours outside of Chicago, Illinois, and smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. I don¡¯t have a ton of fond memories of my childhood, but that creek¡­ Willistown had a light-ordinance. That meant that after 9pm, businesses were lawfully required to dim their parking lot lamps, and all streetlights went off. I remember my dad complaining about it constantly¡ªhim shouting out the window at someone for having their high beams on had become a family joke. Not that mom and I ever dared let him know that. However, that light-ordinance meant that Willistown was darker at night than nearly any other town in America, and out by the creek, you could actually see stars. Granted, not the hundreds or even thousands I could see now, but it was something. For the first time since arriving in Aethonia, I found myself alone in the woods. And between the assurance that nothing dangerous would stray this close to town, and the fact that I had some real fights under my belt, I was feeling pretty good. Finding a fallen tree trunk¡ªwet and mossy as it was¡ªI took a seat and pulled Roxanne around to rest on my thigh. ¡°How about a song?¡± I said to her. Though she didn¡¯t respond, I could feel her power humming in my grasp. ¡°Alright.¡± I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what to play. Had this been a guitar, I¡¯d have likely warmed up with some easy scales, but the thirteen-stringed instrument was still a bit new to me, and I hadn¡¯t the slightest clue what scales might exist on it. I remembered that night at the Sea Mantis Inn and Drink¡ªa place I was no longer welcome after sleeping with the owner¡¯s daughter, Shalimar¡ªwhen I¡¯d tuned Mr. Shicklemor¡¯s lute to E-standard. I¡¯d tried that a few times with Roxanne, but she always managed to correct herself back to whatever tuning she was traditionally supposed to be. Needless to say, I¡¯d given up. And at this point, I was getting sort of used to it, even if I didn¡¯t fully understand it yet. I placed my hands on the fretboard, and let my fingers slide a bit, listening to the gentle scrape against the nylon strings. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to become one with The Lute of Seven Stars. Suddenly, a soft melody began, and when I looked down, I noticed that my hands were following along. It sounded oddly familiar, as if I¡¯d played it before, but I had no recollection of it¡¯s name. You are playing Promise of the Son (29 inst. 0 sin.) Huh. I was a few bars in when a beautiful voice began singing. At first, I thought it was in my head. Intuitively, I knew the words were sung in elvish, but I heard them in my own language.
In twilight¡¯s embrace, where shadows dance soft, Whispers of grace echo aloft. Seven Stars shimmer, a celestial bloom, The moon casts her light, all darkness consumed. O Promise of the Son, in Ayar¡¯a¡¯s glow we find, A hope in our dreams, forever intertwined. With the dawn of your beauty, our dour hearts soar, In the melody of life, and the end of all war. Through M¡¯li Ka¡¯s deep valley, And Alyndis¡¯ height In each leaf, a whisper, The Stars¡¯ gleaming light As seasons doth turn, each cycle anew, We hold fast to the promise, steadfast and true. Each sisters¡¯ heart beating, awaiting the signs The bond of our journey, woven in the vines. O Promise of the Son, and the Seven to guide, A hope in our dreams, forever intertwined. With the dawn of your beauty, our dour hearts shall soar, In the melody of life, the end of all war. So let the Seven Stars lead us free from the dark, With hope as our lantern, igniting the spark. In unity we flourish, and victory won In the light of our ancestors, the soon Promised Son.
I stopped playing and opened my eyes. A peace I couldn¡¯t explain had settled upon my shoulders, and filled me from the inside. Lilla sat beside me. It was her voice, her song, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the gentle breeze, the leaves rustling, and crickets chirping. I could have stayed in that place forever, with Lilla by my side, and never complained. ¡°That was the song given to us by the first Sisters,¡± she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°I thought that song had no lyrics,¡± I said. ¡°Most don¡¯t know them. But I have long had them in my heart. It has guided us for centuries to this very moment.¡± ¡°What¡¯s special about this moment?¡± I asked, my mouth dry. ¡°Other than the obvious,¡± I added, not wanting her to think I didn¡¯t enjoy her company. ¡°The Sisters of Alyndis have searched far and wide, for longer than I¡¯ve been alive. We thought we were seeking the lute, but I don¡¯t believe that¡¯s true.¡± I looked down at Roxanne. ¡°Tevagah seemed pretty confident.¡± ¡°She and I did not agree on many things, not completely. But she was our Mother, and it was her word we followed. However, now, with her gone, it is I who carries the burden.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. Lilla shook her head. ¡°Do not be sorry. The Seven Stars guide us all, and they have brought us to now.¡± I turned toward her. ¡°And I¡¯m grateful for it.¡± ¡°You do not understand.¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying,¡± I said, attempting to keep the frustration out of my tone. I was tired of being so far removed from the history of the world I now inhabited that everything felt so far outside the grasp of my understanding. ¡°The truth is¡­¡± She paused, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. ¡°I believe you, Danny the Bard, are the son the song promises.¡± Update & Announcement! You wanna know why we wrote Black Badge, originally an Audible-only Original? Cuz everyone loves a goddamned western! Everyone on this green earth loves the story of a lone rider blazing into town to tear shit up and beat the hell out of injustice. Dont believe us? Firefly, Deep Space Nine, Tombstone, Westworld, Deadwood, and yeah, the Mandalorian. All westerns whether transparent or disguised. The problem is, so many people forgot what an outlaw looks like. Does James Crowley have a heart of gold? You¡¯re god damned right he does. But is he willing to do just about anything to protect humanity and fulfill his mission to rid the world of demons and nephilim? Well¡­ that depends. Sometimes, he ain¡¯t too sure the White Throne¡¯s being honest. Just because he got brought back to life by some mysterious, arrogant, condescending being that calls itself an angel doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s gonna immediately drop to his knees and beg for salvation.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. James Crowley does what James Crowley thinks is right, even if it means eternal damnation. So hang on to your hats everyone, because his ride through the weird and wild west is going to be bumpy and we plan to bring you the entire epic series here!