One odd thing about connecting to the local network using his "Talisman" gaming pad was that there wasn't any built-in monitoring software. There'd been a mandatory user agreement saying that the apartment company had no responsibility if he did something illegal, but he wasn't being rated or judged like he was back home. So... was he doing well so far? He wasn't sure, without a constantly updated letter grade.

He was at least doing his job, and Ludo would have some exciting mission for him soon. For now, he logged back into Thousand Tales.

On Tourney Isle, he tried using the crafting system with magic to make those custom coins he'd mentioned. First he cast a Create + Metal spell to make a bit of copper from nothing, then paused, stumped. "How were coins made in the olden days?" With copper, he supposed, he should use a mold. And for that he really needed a smithy that wouldn't charge him money to use it. He'd started to run into this problem before he moved to Castor; upgrading from one level of power and responsibility to the next meant a greater need for tools, maintenance and other dues.

An elven messenger brought him a little scroll from the sequence-breaker party, enthused about his offer to sell his starting ship. If he'd help them get the necessary Anchor Stone, which meant giving them a ride and then helping with the dungeon. "Sounds good," he said, and offered a few good times for that. Next, he needed to build a smithing station of his own if he were going to hang around on Tourney, and instead of buying land here he'd prefer to have a better ship. He made his way up to Davis' burrow on the hill.

The bunny knight answered the door, dressed in a spandex space uniform. "Switching from fantasy to live in one of the sci-fi worlds?" Stan asked.

"Just gearing up for making the next cartoon episode. It's about this maniacal pinball machine that rules a planet." Davis gave a buck-toothed grin. "We could use an extra to get killed by aliens."

"Really? I'd be honored. Anyway, I came to offer a trade. I'll install a basic smithy in your house if you let me use it to get up and running with my next boat."

He'd set up a basic card table in the guest room, but still had plenty of room for better furniture. "Sure. Sell me some stools and cushions while you're at it. I never gave you a key, did I? Here." He cupped his fuzzy hands together and a spark of light appeared, creating a brass key. "Stop by whenever you want."

"Thanks, Davis. What do you do these days, anyway, besides the 'Universe Repair Crew' show?" For a native AI like Davis, money wasn't something he really needed. But Stan knew him well enough to know the bunny needed to feel useful.

Davis said, "Miscellaneous adventuring, and trying to learn about human-land. Same as most of my kin. I get a stipend from the boss for setting up little quests for people and offering advice, when I'm not doing the dungeon-crawl thing. And sometimes I'm in that 'Rebels of Norwood' zone I took you to; the prince there would probably like you back."

"I was a spy for the villains, last time I was there."

Davis shrugged. "You were playing a role, one that got handed to you with the prince really being in on it, out of character. Stan the Real Human, Stan the Ocean Adventurer, and Tin the Forest Spy are three different people, and nobody's holding it against you that you worked from a script as 'Tin'." He chuckled. "Oh yeah, and you're also a princess, right?"

Stan scoffed. For a while he'd had a fantasy character in one of the specialized educational game-worlds, and he'd played as a girl on a whim. There were people who uploaded and ended up permanently changed into something else. He wondered what it'd be like to turn into a magical pegasus or something and feel a different body.

He said, "The princess? I don't even know anymore. I think it's time to move on from that character, if I'm going to build influence in Talespace." Stan thought about his co-worker. "There's a guy at the Fun Zone named Dahl who talked about 'exploring deeper'. I've done that in ways like getting the power to read what level of AI I'm talking with."

"I don't know the lad. Let me look him up." Davis gestured, conjuring interface windows in carrot orange, and frowned at them before swiping them away. "Frequent player, I can say. He could use a friend more than an adventuring partner."

"Is that a quest?"

Davis thumped the floor with one foot. "Has everything got to be a quest with you?"

"I... I guess not."

"I'll arrange a time for the bit part in the cartoon, and you can stop by for the smithing work."

#

Stan had his trusty hammer, a hatchet he'd been meaning to replace, the glass knife he'd analyzed and learned a design for, a few disposable stone-bladed picks, and the Work In Progress. The main thing he needed for a smithing station was iron, and he'd rather not buy it or keep trying to grind out a gradual profit on Tourney. There were too many smiths here already.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He tried sailing northwest to West-1 South-9 in search of ore. It was a forbidding marsh, slumped low against sea level and having only one safe harbor. As soon as he reached it he started to wonder if this trip was a bad idea. Moss and vines reached down from the dense trees like tentacles, and slick things splashed in the larger murky puddles. "Should've picked a Fire element," he groused.

There wasn't a known dungeon here, so he was scavenging. He put his Inspect skill to good use here, because there was a path of sorts through the mire. Every so often he turned aside because the light flickered and revealed a sinkhole or a giant leech waiting in ambush, things that other players might not see. A flickering will-o-wisp danced in the distance to lure him onward to something, but Stan ignored and searched for his real prize, the lumps of "bog iron" said to settle in the stagnant pools. He grabbed a few handfuls of useful alchemy plants along the way.

He found a reddish pond with dark blobs, but there was a flicker of motion there. Stan flicked the game into third-person mode so he wouldn't have to see any giant leeches attack "him". Instead it was a watermelon-sized toad that leaped out and lashed him with its tongue.

[Grappled!] said the interface.

Stan's arms were free, though, and he slammed his hammer down on the beast's head. "I've killed bigger frogs than you." The weapon squelched into the monster's flesh and killed it in a single blow, freeing him. Easy enough.

A chorus of croaks sounded from all around.

Stan reluctantly reached into the dim pond and drew out a few fist-sized nuggets of rusty ore. He stuffed them into his backpack. The croaks of doom grew closer. "A press-your-luck game, huh?" There was a lot more ore, but probably little time before an overwhelming threat. Stan changed the rules. He set down his backpack, opened it, then opened himself to magic. The world around him filled with glowing nodes and glyphs... except he was really just seeing his character on a screen doing that, and it didn't feel right. He switched the camera back to first-person and set about summoning the Metal and Water elements. Water harmonized with the local magic field in the sense that he could drag and steer the icon for it around more easily than Metal. He concentrated his power on the pond and the spell exploded upward with a burst of force. A hail of ore flew out. Stan directed it to fall into his pack, grinning as nearly all of the bog's supply clattered into it. He snagged the bag again just as a dozen frogs burst into view from inland, led by a humanoid toad-thing with a feather-tipped blowgun.

[You are encumbered!]

Even with his carrying bonus? He opened the bag's inventory screen and saw he was only a little over the safe level. He threw out his mining picks and was fine.

Until the frog warrior shot him, anyway. A sickly green haze filled the screen and the notation [Poison!] appeared. Stan looked up as the frog croaked a command and his amphibian minions moved in for the kill.

Stan cursed and turned around, hustling toward the shore. The marsh ahead wavered green and tilted so badly that he felt queasy. Aggressive croaking stalked him but he refused to look back. A giant leech reared up like a horrible black snake. By mistake, he veered toward it. It came down at his head. Stan mashed buttons to jump and duck at once, diving into the filth in front of him. The leech flickered on one side of his view, but there was no time to fight. Stan scrambled ahead and fought the broken controls well enough to only get gashed for a major wound as he broke free of the jungle to the sunny beach.

The poison effect worsened and he saw, [Major wound from the poison! (A one-time effect.)]

He waded toward what was probably his ship and plunged into the water, sinking. Right, I'm carrying a bag of rocks. He dropped the bag into the shallow water and fought his way to the surface to breathe. With his air meter refilled, he dived again and yanked out some of the ore to salvage. Meanwhile the monsters waited on the shore, taunting him to come back. Stan ignored them, struggled to dive in the right direction, and made two more trips to get back his bag and the rest of the iron. He climbed aboard the Progress and flopped down. Then he sat up in his little room and set down the Talisman pad, laughing. "That was not a good plan."

[Since we're in contact,] sent Ocean the AI in the distinct rippling font of her personal messages, [Was it fun?]

"Hmm? Yeah, it was. I guess you wear multiple hats too, trying to kill us adventurers but really to help us."

[That's my function.]

"Must be nice to know that."

Ocean didn't answer. Stan shrugged and set about making sure he wouldn't die of poisoning aboard his ship. He had two major wounds but was safe with his ore, and could take that back to Tourney at his leisure. He set the ship to head southeast, yawned, and thought about tomorrow's work. He had real-world obligations at the Fun Zone, but getting more influential within the game was important too. The people inside, mattered.