Chapter 9: A Perfectly Good Pint

Once Charlie Cucumber left the room, Chastity got out of bed. It felt good, after her convalescence, to stretch her limbs by the fading warmth of the fireplace. Of course, she could only stretch so far under the low ceiling of this halfling dwelling.

Making sure that no curious villagers were peeping through her window, she carefully removed the makeshift smock and pulled on the cloth tunic and breeches, which by now were completely dry, followed by a trial and error process to get into her chainmail armor and attach the cloak.

It seemed odd, like putting on a costume. Yet the armor fit her well and she was able to move comfortably with it on.

Chastity did a quick breath check, wondering if an equivalent to toothpaste existed in this world. To her pleasant surprise, her breath smelled sweet.

Maybe those who live in fantasy storybook worlds don’t need to worry so much about such mundane things as bad breath, she mused.

Feeling something tucked into a pocket of her tunic, Chastity removed a small, round object. It felt unusually weighty. Was it a stamp? A brooch? A type of seal? She turned it around and around in her hand, studying it.

“Now what could this be?” she said to herself. Then, “Identify.”

She heard the now familiar notification chime.

[Identify]

[-1 Focus Point]

The item was ringed in a faint, glowing outline as it rested in the palm of her leather glove.

Holy Symbol of Krøsning

Realmwalker Item

Effect: ??

More question marks, Chastity thought. Wait a second–that symbol!

On the face of the object was inscribed the same symbol she had seen carved into the rock outside the mountaintop cave–a stylized X with an elongated tail. Chastity pondered the meaning of this, but could come to no clear conclusions.

Ding!

[Your ‘Identify’ Proficiency Has Increased]

Ah! Chastity thought with a slight start. So many notifications. It seems that gaining experience and gaining proficiency are two different processes. Maybe if my Identify proficiency increases it will be more useful. She concentrated and mentally ‘closed’ the text box.

Chastity took the Holy Symbol and, noticing a metallic loop on the bottom, tried to slide it over a gloved finger on her right hand. It fit, although she could just as easily imagine wearing it on a cord as a necklace, or in some other fashion. It felt more like a signet than a mere ornamental ring.

That’ll do for now. Although I wonder, following the logic of videogames, if I have access to some sort of inventory?

“Inventory…” she tried tentatively.

There was another chime, and a text box appeared before her vision once more, this time with a grid pattern. There were not many spaces on the grid, and the upper-leftmost box contained the image of a scroll. She focused carefully on the item and discovered it was the Scroll of Scholasticism, granting her a permanent passive boon of Knowledge (Religion).

She quickly voice-accessed her Character Record and discovered that the Holy Symbol of Krøsning was now listed under her Equipment rather than her Inventory.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Aha, so I do have an Inventory, and it looks like I can access it visually or view a list of its contents through my Character Record. The Inventory seems to have limited spaces, and anything I wear on my person is counted as Equipment. So did I waste a Focus Point trying to identify that Holy Symbol? Maybe I could have just viewed it in my Inventory. Although I did gain proficiency for using the Identify ability…

Concentrating on the Cloak of Erudition listed in her Equipment, Chastity saw that it bestowed the passive boon of +5% Ability Leveling. However, unlike the scroll, the effect was not listed as permanent. If she removed the cloak, presumably the boon would no longer apply.

There was a polite rap of knuckles on the door.

“Are you alright in there, miss? Do I need to send my Auntie in to help get you dressed?” It was Charlie.

“No! No, I’ll be right out!” Chastity blurted. Lastly, she picked up her bundle of javelins from where they leaned against the wall and opened the door, ducking through so as not to hit her head.

ꭘ

Once outside the house, Chastity felt the frigid sting of wintry air afresh. Several halflings were making their way through the village, bundled up and trying to endure the cold. Each stopped to gawk at the Tall Lady in their midst.

“I didn’t know they made women that big!” whispered one passerby to her companion.

Charlie pulled a floppy felt hat down over his ears and tugged a scarf tighter around his neck (the scarf that Mrs. Underfoot simply insisted he wear). He gestured past the winding row of modest thatch-roofed homes to another building nearer the river. It had a painted sign depicting clinking mugs, frothing over with foam.

“That’s Roundhedge Tavern at the end of the lane,” Charlie said, “where the mayor’s waiting.”

“We’re meeting the mayor… in a tavern?” Chastity asked hesitantly.

“Of course! That’s his establishment. Sort of an honorary mayor, really. It’s a rotating position around Goldenberry. What, did you think we had some sort of town hall? That’d be silly!”

“Silly, right…”

Chastity followed Charlie’s lead, approaching the wide, blue river that served as a natural boundary for the village. She saw the edge of the woods beyond. The river gave off a strong scent, mingled with damp earth and woodsmoke. Charlie continued chatting amiably as they walked.

“Each year there’s a grand ale drinking contest at the tavern. The loser has to be the next mayor!”

“Not exactly a meritocracy, is it?” Chastity murmured. And how did the owner of the tavern lose at a drinking contest?

“What’s that? Meri-whatsit? You’ve been throwing around them ten-copper words, as my dad would say.”

They passed by a wooden structure built right against the water’s edge. Chastity saw a large water wheel, but it appeared to be inert. Charlie noticed her eyeing it.

“That’s the mill! Beauty ain’t she. Broken down now, I’m afraid, and we don’t have anybody to fix it. All of them that might have repaired it went with the merchant’s caravan, looking for work in the north. I would give it a go myself, but I’m better suited to other work.”

“Like pickling?”

“Exactly! Well, here we are.”

Charlie opened the door to Roundhedge Tavern and again Chastity had to duck down to fit through the small entrance.

It was thankfully warmer inside. There was a hearth with crackling logs, and several flickering candles set on round tabletops cast a warm, inviting glow upon the room. The tavern’s low-beamed ceiling was adorned with rustic tapestries depicting various woodland creatures and harvest scenes. Behind the bar, the wall was lined with shelves groaning under barrels of ale.

A half dozen or so River Folk sat about the establishment, nursing mugs of ale that looked to be larger than their heads and good-naturedly swapping tales and bits of gossip. The conversation ceased once Chastity entered, and in the minutes that followed, many other curious villagers made their way inside under the pretext of quenching their thirst, stealing glances at Chastity and Charlie, until the place was nearly at capacity.

This is like the halfling paparazzi, Chastity thought.

There was a hearty greeting as a red-cheeked halfling with a noticeable paunch sauntered out from behind the bar, a mug in each hand spilling over with frothy heads of foam.

“Young master Cucumber! And you brought our special guest–the talk of the village! Welcome, welcome. Fresh ale on the ‘ouse!”

“Thanks, Mayor!” Charlie responded with glee. He eagerly grabbed his mug and began slurping until soon he had a great beard of foam upon his otherwise smooth features.

Chastity smiled politely but waved the mayor off.

“None for me, thank you. I appreciate the kind gesture and I intend no offense, but I don’t drink.”

Mayor Roundhedge was taken aback, and even physically stumbled a bit, splashing some of the drink in the process. The growing crowd chattered in hushed tones, pretending (poorly) not to be eavesdropping.

“Aye, we thought you were some sort of ranger. Or knight. Or adventurer! Whoever ‘eard of an adventurer that would turn down a perfectly good pint of Deep River Ale?” begged the honorary mayor.

“Well, since you brought it up, it turns out I’m a Paladin,” Chastity replied with a shrug.

At once, a deep silence fell over the tavern. Somewhere a dish fell to the floor and clattered. Any pretense of minding their own business evaporated as every single soul in the establishment turned to stare at Chastity in wonder.