“I don’t wanna sit here anymore!” Amy complained, drawing irritated glances. Mark ignored them, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off. “I wanna go home!”
Mark rubbed his eyes, cursing his shift manager for scheduling him late last night and early this morning. “I know, little one. I want to go home too. Just a few more minutes.”
“Mister Dallton?” A nurse called. He stood, tugging Amy with him. “Room four, down the hall to your left.”
An elderly woman, dressed in plain clothing, took Amy with the promise of toys when they entered. He frowned, not liking the implication, but nodded when Amy looked at him uncertainly. The second door revealed the doctor, sitting behind a grand desk. “Mark, please, come in.”
Sitting down and seeing doctor Hallaway organise a folder made his anxiety spike, coughing. The man’s head shot up. “Right, apologies. You’re all clear, Mark. What we found wasn’t cancer, although it looked like it. A few months and some strong antibiotics and you're all clear.”
Relieve made him sag in his chair, perking up after a second. “You don’t separate my kid from me for good news, doctor Hallaway.”
“No, we don’t. We collected DNA from both yourself and Amy, for testing, but she shows none of the genetic markers we feared to find. We did find something else, and there’s no good way to say this.”
The doctor leaned his hands on the desk, looking at him straight. “Your daughter has Niemann-Pick disease, Mark. It’s a test we don’t normally run, but because of the strange nature of your own symptoms we wanted to be thorough. I am so sorry.”
“What.” Mark cleared his throat, anxiety spiking to fear. “What does that mean?”
“At the rate the disease has been progressing, and with her age, she won’t make the year. There’s no cure, Mark, not for this, and I am so, so sorry.”
----------------------------------------
“Christ, Pride. You really are an asshole.”
Another one of the women, Mark noticed all but two of them were, stepped forwards with her hands making calming gestures. “Sorry about him. I’m Sloth. No names, if you please. My idea, I used to be a therapist. For soldiers, specifically, and since we looked to be dying an early death I suggested it for the sake of our mental health. It stuck, and we like it this way.”
The woman was rambling when Mark held up his hand, making an effort to relax the other one. “Gluttony, I guess. The seven deadly sins, huh?”
“Seems like it.” She shrugged. “You a gamer? Seem to have taken all of this in stride.”
Sloth motioned vaguely to his person, Mark frowning at his barebones clothing “When I was younger, yea.”
Pride threw her an annoyed glance, stepping forwards. “As I was saying, glad to have found you. You do seem to have gone native, and- Dear god my man is that blood on your teeth?”
Mark shrugged. “Probably. Class skill lets me eat raw meat.”
“Right. That’s. Right.” Pride recovered, straightening. “Speaking off, I take it your class is literally called Gluttony?”
He nodded, drawing sighs from all of them. The suspiciously beautiful woman spoke up, sounding disgusted. “Great. The whole set, can’t wait to find out why.”
“Ignore her.” Sloth said, walking closer. Mark took a few steps back, causing her to raise her hands again. “Relax. Part of my class is to heal people. Playing the support, if we go by game terminology. I can imagine you could use some after a month alone.”
“Got that covered.” He said, dismissing the idea of telling them he was part of a group. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I trust none of you. That said, you’re also the only people I’ve seen in weeks. Any signs of habitation?”
Pride spoke before Sloth could, making the women shrug her shoulders. “None. Well, plenty of monsters and such, fake people in a couple of realms, but no actual humans.”
“You’ve cleared dungeons?” Mark asked, interested. “How many?”
The man grinned, pearly white teeth peaking between his lips. Mark didn’t like that, though he couldn't name why. It clicked after he took in his hair, seeming freshly washed and styled. ‘A month in the wilderness and he looks like that?’
“Tit for tat, my friend. Mistrust is natural, but you’ve already asked your question. You seem to know your way around the system. What level are you?”
He tensed, relaxing himself and hoping no one noticed. “Seven. Levelled a couple days ago, when I got these.”
Raising the cestus caused some interest, especially from the older man with spectacles. Pride waved as if impressed, the women in dark plate scowling. “That makes you tied with Wrath here for second place. I myself levelled to eight a day ago, though we’re all on the same team here.”
“Introductions.” The last woman clapped her hands, drawing attention. Her voice was a little rushed, as if nervous. “I’m Envy. The pretty one ignoring you is Lust, don’t take that personally. Pride is the one that looks like he just walked out of a fashion catalogue, and the mistress of darkness here is Wrath. The man eyeing your stuff like a thief is Greed. Don’t worry, he doesn’t actually steal. Not without you agreeing to it, anyway. Sloth is trying to fall asleep standing up, also not unusual. Any chance you’ll tell me what annoying habit you have?”
Mark blinked at the rush of words. He took out a slice of boar meat, good for another half hour, and chewed. “I like to eat.”
Envy looked disgusted, he didn’t blame her, and she narrowed her eyes. “You eat humans?”
“No.”
“Great! Well, I’ll let Pride take over before he explodes.”
He nodded at her, flicking his eyes to the man. Pride looked fine, calmly taking in the stream. Envy seemed to slink away, the cheer falling from her face when she saw him no longer pay attention to her. “Dungeons?”
Pride waved his hand. “Two. Good stuff, enchanted things Greed can’t bargain for yet, but nothing too special.”
Greed nodded, looking at his hands briefly. Mark suppressed the desire to tuck his cestus away. “How much for one of those plate armours?”
“Greed has to know what he bargains for.” Wrath spoke, cutting off Pride and seeming proud of the fact. “Used to be some history nerd or something, so he knows quite a bit. Don’t go asking for a gun, already tried.”
“Guns don’t fit.” The man protested, pushing up his glasses. “And it’s not hard, like enchanted items are, it just plain doesn’t work. You think I’d be walking around with a cudgel if I could make a shotgun?”
“What can you make?” Mark asked, seeing Wrath draw a breath and speaking before she could. He didn't press about the armour.
The man looked at him, a smile on his face. Mark didn’t much like how familiar it seemed. “Normal stuff, like a utility knife or some proper clothing? We bargain, you get the items. What you pay disappears, what you pay for appears, and I take my cut. No refunds, class enforced. For plate like the stuff Pride and Wrath are wearing the price goes up dramatically, things like alchemy ingredients from monsters or loot from dungeons.”
‘He gets high from bargaining.’ Mark resisted the urge to sigh. ‘Like I do from eating. Great, just great. Like one magic junkie wasn’t enough.’
“I’ve got pelts and tusks in my cave.” He said. “Food too, assuming you can’t just make whatever you wish. I could really use some proper tools. Ones not made from stone.”
Pride nodded, seeming to decide for everyone. “Sounds like a plan. Lead on, Gluttony.”
“Can’t make organic materials.” Greed protested, hurrying to follow. “So yes, food would be good. If it was once alive, but since worked into something, I can usually make it. Think leather or wooden cutting boards, but no fruit or bread.”
Mark made a noise of understanding, seeing a flash of muscle peak from under the man’s shirt. “All I got is meat. Raw, mind you, but plenty of it.”
He relaxed some as they walked, pointing in the general direction and looking over their group. Envy seemed to hover around Pride and Wrath, cutting in every now and then as they talked about something. Greed was struggling to keep up, but never actually fell behind. Mark wondered how much of that was an act, his whole frame layered in expensive cloth and armour. Sloth raised an eyebrow as he approached, smiling tiredly.
“Hi.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Gluttony. What do you think of our little assembly? I’ve seen you looking, measuring.”
He grinned, only partly to cover up a jolt of nerves. His first one on one conversation for weeks now, longer if he thought about it. He didn’t. “Think I got most of them figured out. Pride is a front line fighter, a traditional knight with sword and shield. Wrath’s a barbarian, pure damage. Envy is hit and run, a rogue?”
Sloth nodded, wiggling her hands. “More or less. She doesn’t fit neatly into any box, I’ll say.”
“Right. Greed is the merchant, you’re the support. Mind if I ask what you can do, exactly?”
“I don’t mind. I heal, as I’ve told you, but I can also cure poison and give some minor boosts. Got a class skill that lets me know if anything is looking to hurt me, pretty handy for keeping an eye out.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “General skills?”
“You’re not subtle, are you?”
“Sorry.” He backpaddled. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this whole talking thing. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
“It’s fine. Got walking, sleeping. One for the crossbow on my back. Another one for aiming.”
“Sleeping?”
Sloth half grinned. “I’m open, but I’m not that open. Think on what you want from Greed, and what you would consider a fair price for it. I’ll give you a hint, it doesn't just have to be the monetary value of something.”
He took the dismissal for what it was, nodding and leaving her be. She seemed to fall asleep almost instantly, her eyes half closing and her feet moving mechanically. She never stumbled, though, and a couple of minutes later her eyes snapped open. “Danger.”
Mark snapped out of his thoughts, looking around. He snorted. “Not really. I’ll take care of it.”
The boar squealed as he passed Pride, having put a hand on Wrath’s shoulder. Mark ignored them, sliding past the boar as it charged and landing a solid blow on the side of its head. The thing stumbled, letting him turn and stride over.
For killing a Star Boar you have been granted five experience.
“Greed!” He called, the man moving over. Never took his eyes off the boar, Mark noticed. “How much for this?”
“Not how this works.” Greed half scolded. “You tell me what you want, I’ll tell you if it’s fair.”
“A knife? A metal knife?”
“Bronze.” He offered. “But it’ll be good quality.”
“Fine. One moment.” Mark gutted some meat from its belly, refreshing his cured stock and taking one to snack on. “Deal?”
“Haggle after mutilating the corpse.” The man said faintly. “But yes, deal.”
The boar seemed to shimmer, a stream of essence running to Greed’s body. Most of it condensed in front of the man, the rest dissipating through his clothes. “One bronze knife, freshly sharpened and made from good ore.”
Mark tucked it away, pleased. They returned to see Wrath scowl at him, Pride smiling with an excuse-her look on his face. He didn’t miss how the man kept his eyes on him, though, nor how he’d watched the fight like a hawk.
They resumed walking, Mark drifting over to the one member he hadn’t interacted with yet. Lust narrowed her eyes as he approached, turning away before he could open his mouth. “Don’t want anything, you won’t get anything. I’d commend your restraint about approaching me last if it wasn’t so obviously a ploy.”
He clicked his mouth shut, her whole body language screaming at him to fuck off. “Not a plot, but fair enough.”
The rest of the walk was silent, Mark finding a surprisingly strong urge to talk to someone. Greed seemed busy fiddling with a ring, the trio of Pride, Wrath and Envy were already engaged with each other and he’d be surprised if Lust had changed her mind in the last twenty minutes.
Sloth nodded at him as he fell in step with her. Mark looked at the trio, hesitating.
“Ask.”
He fumbled, catching the slight grin on her face. Taking a breath gave him a moment to gather his thoughts. “Why did Wrath scowl at me when I killed the boar?”
“Because she loves fighting, and she didn’t get to fight. You’ll find we all have theme appropriate faults, Gluttony.”
“You included?”
“Me included.”
“Right.” He looked to the left when a stone rumbled, finding Wrath had kicked it. “You said you were a therapist?”
The woman turned, looking at him sideways. “So I did.”
“Most people would say they are a therapist, assuming to get rescued or take up their trade wherever here is.”
“This isn’t kansas.” She agreed. “The enormous floating rocks were a strong clue. Got fired around a year ago.”
“Can I ask why?”
Sloth shrugged. “I was lazy. Dropped the ball, as the kids say. Bills piled up, sleeping in seemed more tempting than looking for work, and my dad cut me off. Then I woke up one day and decided to take the easy way out, downing a bottle of sleeping pills. Pride wasn’t lying, Gluttony. We’re all suicides.”
That shut down the conversation pretty effectively, though he kept in step with her. The feeling of someone not immediately hostile next to him was a balm on his soul, and she didn’t seem to mind.
His cave appeared, moving to the front of the group and slowing his walk. “I built it for one, so there’s not alot of room inside. This area is pretty safe, though. Haven’t seen a monster, or beast, here in weeks.”
“We’ll camp outside.” Pride said, a backpack appearing in his hand. The man grinned as Mark froze, looking at the thing with wide eyes. “You told me some of your class skills, so fair is fair. Got a pocket dimension, saves us from having to carry our stuff around like peasants.”
He handed each of them different looking bags, the group setting up camp with an ease that spoke of repetition. “Seems like more of a thing for Sloth.”
“You’d think so.” Pride replied. He didn’t elaborate further.
Mark walked inside, picking up an armful of his leftover pelts. He’d been planning to use them for clothes, but bartering them to Greed seemed far easier. ‘Shame about crafting. Still need to max it, too.’
Greed was just finishing his tent, breathing hard but working efficiently. “I got more to barter. Can you tell me how much they’re worth, roughly?”
He held up his hand when the man looked to sigh. “I don’t mean a number. Just, what could I get for these?”
“You skinned them yourself?”
“And dried them, and scraped them. Making leather is a pain, I’ll tell you that much.”
Greed smiled, a softer edge to it than before. “My first week here was hell, and I had Pride and Wrath to look out for me. Can’t have been easy.”
He continued before Mark could reply. “Seven hides, decent quality for a novice and with few holes. I’ll give you a fair price, though be warned that I can’t do charity. How about a set of workman's clothes, the kind that doesn’t rip and tear? You can wear your poor man’s gambeson over it, spare it some punishment.”
“And a waterskin. Don’t have anything to seal mine off. They keep leaking.”
“Sure.” Greed shrugged. “And I’ll throw in a few set’s of underwear and socks, too. Be specific what you barter for, Gluttony.”
Mark nodded, shaking the hand when Greed presented it. The clothes appeared, a tiny stream of energy splitting off to disappear into the man's torso. Mark changed in his cave, revelling in the feeling of proper clothing against skin. He rejoined the man when he had, nodding his head in thanks. “Meant to ask. What did Pride and Wrath barter for to get armour like that?”
“My most profitable deal to date.” Greed smiled, looking at the pair. Envy was poking at a pot, Wrath hitting her over the head with a spoon. They were making a stew from most of his stockpiled meat, adding some things from her bag. Pride overlooked them both, not saying much. “We cleared a realm, I think on day fifteen? We hadn’t found Lust back then, she’s the most recent after you, but we made good time. You cleared one, right?”
The man waved to his cestus, hanging securely from his belt. Mark nodded. “I assume it had a gimmick. Ours was speed, the faster we completed it, the better our reward. Pride stopped us just before finishing it, forcefully dragging us out. Should have seen Wrath, nearly tore his head off.”
“The escape word?”
“The very same. It kicks the whole group out, something to keep in mind. Pride and Wrath did it together, nearly twice as fast as we did it with the group. Sloth had to spend an hour healing them, though, so can’t say if it was worth the risk.”
“Envy didn’t mind, or Sloth?”
“Sloth didn’t want to go into the realm in the first place. Envy is, complicated. Anyway, after they were healed they showed us the rewards. Said they got better with a smaller party, which I guess is why you got that cestus from clearing yours solo.”
Mark put a hand on them, Greed chuckling. “I can see the worth of an item, a class skill. That thing would get you full plate and then some, though you'd be a fool to barter it. As I was saying. Pride and Wrath sped through the dungeon, full tilt until they got to the boss. Killed it, too. And then they got boots of minor speed, something neither cared for one bit.”
The man rolled a ring on his finger. “So they bartered them to me. An enchanted item, no matter how insignificant, will get you a lot of normal armour.
“You’re being very helpful.”
“What can I say? I like an open market, and those three have been looking to corner it. A newcomer is just what we needed, my good Gluttony, so don’t let Pride push you around.”
Greed clapped him on the shoulder, settling down. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to argue with my status. Twice as bad as my ex-wife, never thought that was possible.”
Mark wished him good luck, walking back to his cave after seeing Sloth was fast asleep. His armour, confirmed to be a gambeson by a history buff, didn’t chafe as he moved. A godsend, and more than worth the pelts.
The group had set up camp a little ways from his cave proper, on flat ground, and he could only just about see their fires when he was inside. He started one of his own, cursing himself for not bartering for flint and steel, but the last weeks had given him plenty of practice rubbing sticks. ‘Need more firewood. Always more firewood.’
It was crackling merrily when someone entered, hesitating near the door. Mark looked up, waving his hand down at the fire. “You can sit, if you want.”
Lust sat with a grace he found almost alien, directly opposite him and close to the door. He offered her a stick of roasted meat, just about finished. She took it after a moment, nodding her head. “It looks good.”
“Cooking was a hobby of mine. Still is, I suppose, but a campfire isn’t a kitchen.”
Lust didn’t reply, Mark stifling the urge to fill the silence. They ate in peace, offering her some water in his only clay cup. “It leaks a little, so mind that.”
She took it, taking a sip and setting it down. He wouldn't have done that with a leaking cup, personally, but he didn't say anything. She spoke when she stood, moving to the door. “Greed is true neutral, Sloth less so than she pretends. Don’t spar with Pride or Wrath, it won’t end well. Don’t ignore Envy and she’ll mostly leave you alone.”
“Thank you.” Mark replied, for a lack of anything better to say. Then she was gone, leaving him alone with a dying fire.
He settled on his bed, wondering how much he would need to scrounge together to get a proper mattress from Greed, and fell asleep.