Chapter 7: Quiet Before... Before What Exactly?
~ Part 5: Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain ~
At the bottom of a hill at the border of the Kansan clearing, an ancient, wrinkled, twiggy, obnoxious and unsympathetic self-proclaimed former chick-magnet is rolling in the grass, once more splitting his sides laughing at the expenses of my increasingly annoyed self. Seriously, I confide a very painful personal moment with him, and that’s how he reacts. Even I am not that insensitive.
“It’s not that funny.”
“Hohohohohoho!! I am truly so-hohohohohoho… Sorry Young One… It is unbeco-hohohohoho… unsightly of me to laughahahahaha… at your sadnessohohohohoho… hohoho… hoho… ho… hohhh…”
I glare at the old man as he slowly brings himself back sitting up.
“Hoh… Hooohhh…” The geriatric joker uses his dirty sleeve to wipe the corners of his watering eyes. “Hohoho… You never cease to amuse me, Young One.”
“…Glad to be of service,” I say in my most deadpan voice. Martha would be proud of how cold and devoid of emotion I sounded.
“Oy! Quit being so sullen.” Playfully—I suppose—he elbows me in the side. To anyone who has never been struck in the stomach by a skinny limb more hard bone than flesh, I tell you…it hurts. “Come on Son, perish that dejected facies. At the very least—pfffft-hoho… At the very least, you can ascertain the fact that fickle lass did not forsake you for the size of your manhoohoohohoho *inhale* HOHOHOHOOOO—”
And down he goes again. Does he really need to be rolling on the ground laughing? It hurts a bit you know. Even I have feelings.
You do?
I do.
My shallow reservoir of patience eventually, and rapidly hits rock bottom. Something probably important snaps in my mind, and my lips spread in a wide grin uncovering my pearly white teeth. “Can I punch you, old fart?” I ask sweetly. No one will ever accuse me of not being a gentleman.
“HOho… ho…” The elderly on the ground looks up at my face. I’m not sure what he sees in my broad friendly innocent smile, but he briefly freezes. What? Don’t be like that. It was only a question, you know~ “Ho… Ho… Oh.” My smile broadens and he gulps audibly before sitting back up with a much sober demeanour. “Please do not, Young One.”
“Oh?” I raise a guileless eyebrow, my smile not flattering in the slightest. “What for, Old One? Would you prefer a kick?”
“No, that…” he drawls, unsure.
I observe him intently without a word.
“…” I must say, I’m taking a certain sadistic pleasure in witnessing that single thick drop of sweat dripping down his temple. After a short breath of silence, without dropping my sweet attitude, I open my mouth again. “The sword then?” I wouldn’t sound more casual if I were offering him a cup of tea instead of a stab through the body. I’m kind of spooking myself to be honest.
“I do not believe I would survive to that,” the Elder mumbles.
“Oh, we can’t be sure ‘bout that, now can we~? I’ve been wondering actually. I know! Why not find out together?” I complete the proposal with a graceful gesture of my wrist. A short sword materializes in my hand from my inventory. My eyes narrow to slits and the tip of my tongue runs over my upper lip. “I promise I’ll make it quick, Old One…By the way. Have I ever mentioned how much I despise being called ‘Young One’? I hate being patronized.” The weapon twirls in my hand, drawing a slow circle.
“Hum.” The ancient man pulls on his collar and looks away, taking an unconvincing wise-ish pensive look. “Ahem. On more pressing matters…”
I stare silently at the old fart. Yeah. Change the subject…
But…I suppose my point has been made. He isn’t laughing anymore. So I guess I’ll drop the matter, and the sword, for now. The latter disappears into invisible storage again. I let my zygomaticus major loosen and feel as if mental cogs in my brain were drifting out of synch again. It’s rather disconcerting in fact.
I blink, confused for an instant, and then shake my head. I move my gaze back to the Elder, but now only with sincere curiosity. “More pressing matters, you were saying?” I ask, raising an eyebrow for good measure. Facial expression is an important part of communication. Someone should tell this to Martha.
The Elder relaxes visibly. A little too visibly. I don’t think he was ever truly worried about his safety. Well, we know he’s a good actor. And it’s not as if I was really gonna cut him down. …right… What? Oh, nono. Nothing. I don’t believe it was all an act though. Whose? His. Oh. It’s like he’s more worried about starting a fight at all.
Yeah… It’s interesting. Like he’s confident he could beat me, but afraid of the fight in itself? Maybe he’s anxious of exposing his secrets? Or maybe he has a limited amount of power that can’t be replenished easily? Or maybe my spells are liable to set off some ancient buried artefact? There’s also the possibility the old chief simply dislikes violence. Don’t count on it. Or that he knew I had only been teasing and played along.
…
I was only teasing…wasn’t I?
Yeah, yeah.
My head hurts for some reason.
“Have you been avoiding me lately?” A question from the old man cuts my introspection short.
Caught off guard, filters off, I answer flatly. “You creep me out. You are sneaky, hide shady secrets, and always speak in half-truth. This whole village is fishy as hell. Aand I have a feeling something terrible is going to happen whenever you’re around.” Oh, and the God of Chaos himself is somehow hinting that you have a role in this uber world-saving/me-screwing/I’ve-got-a-really-bad-feeling-about-this quest he wants me to partake in. But I’m not going to mention that last part to the Elder.
The man in question blinks each eye separately. He’s a little stunned by my reply, I think.
Eventually he drops a few bewildered words. “At least you are direct.”
“I try.” I shrug with a teasing malicious smirk. “But I won’t say sorry.”
The old man raises a hand to deny my un-apology and looks away coyly. “No hard feelings, Young O—Elric.” He still seems a little uncomfortable. Aw. Come on. It was only a joke. He turns back to me and adds in a serious tone: “I confess I have not been entirely truthful with you.”
Look at me being surprised—not. “No, really?” Sarcasm is strong in I.
The Elder nods. “However, please understand that certain things cannot be shared carelessly. If not with the right person, some secrets are better left to rest.” Alarm bells scream to life in my head. His words were too reminiscing of a particular quest for it to be a coincidence. The alarms are so loud I almost miss his next words. “I needed to ascertain your merit.”
“You don’t say...”
He ignores my pike and looks me straight into the eyes. “Yes. And you have magnificently proved yourself, exceeding even my greatest expectations.”
“…Have I?” No, really. What were his expectations? If this is about Dorothy, there were a million ways this could have gone very wrong, but as far as success is concern? Returning her smile is pretty straightforward, if whimsical and ridiculously complicated.
“Yes. Thank you.” The Elder’s mood has unexpectedly made a one-eighty, suddenly turning dead-serious. “From the bottom of my drained heart, thank you.” And, still sitting cross-legged on the grass, he bows deeply to the ground, hands on his knees and forehead practically touching the ground.
“Ah! No…I…don’t…” I fumble with my words, thoroughly embarrassed. Give me friendliness, indifference, disdain, fear, hatred, those I can deal with. But I have no idea how to accept honest respectful gratitude. It’s not something I get often, you know? “Please, Elder, stop thi—”
*ting*
Quest Update: [The little girl who couldn’t smile]
Background & Objectives
The Elder of Kansas is concerned about the youngest member of his community. The little Dorothy was left orphaned after a traumatizing incident. She hasn’t earnestly smiled ever since. The Elder has sought your assistance in helping the child regain her lost happiness.
Your relentless, though unorthodox, efforts have proven…completely useless, (though entertaining). However through sheer dumb serendipity, you managed to stumble by mistake upon a key to unlock Dorothy’s repressed memories and feelings, her pet dog Toto! The faithful canine died trying to protect its master, only to be ripped to shreds by a pair of zombies and getting the little Dorothy bathed in its warm blood…
Success Condition: Dorothy earnestly smiles again. ✓ Failure Conditions:
- Dorothy smiles remain empty. ✘
- Dorothy’s state worsen. ✘
- Dorothy dies. ✘
Rewards:
- Raised intimacy with the inhabitants of Kansas. ✓
- Intimacy with Dorothy raised to MAX. ✓
- Possibility to learn the secret of Kansas. (Talk to the Elder.) ✓
Hidden Reward: Intimacy with Martha raised to MAX. ✓
★ Quest Complete ★
Shivering again at the sight of the hidden reward, I rapidly dismiss the pointless window. I stand up and grab the old chief gently by the elbow to raise him up. You raaaise me uuuup~♪ Now’s not the moment. “There’s no need to thank me. Please. After getting to know Dorothy, I would surely have done the same regardless of your request.”
Would you have? Probably not. Hard to say. Meh. Shoulda coulda woulda…who cares? Hindsight twists everything anyway.
The crafty old fox’s wrinkled lips curl up in a gentle derisive half-smile at my answer, as if to tell he knows perfectly what’s going through my mind. A little presumptuous, if I may say. Even I have no idea what’s going on in there most of the time. You don’t wanna know. I really don’t.
Thankfully, he abstains from further commenting and allows himself to be pulled up to sitting upright. “Thank you, lad. These old hips are not as cooperatives as they used to be.” I wisely choose to meet that statement with silence. He continues, caressing an imaginary beard for some reason. “Since I have recognised your worth, I will now reveal you the truth about this hidden village.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
I can’t resist. “You’re all ninjas,” I cut him flatly.
“How did you know?!”
…
……
………
“…And now I feel obligated to ask you how you know what a ‘ninja’ is.” There is an [Assassin] class, a [Martial Warrior], and [Monk] that’s kind of shaolin-like, but I can’t remember the exact term [Ninja] ever being used by NPCs. All I can think of is an odd crossbreed between [Assassin] and [Shadow Mage]. Or [Assassin] and [Alchemist] maybe. With the new subclass system, I’m sure some weird mixes are going to pop up.
Which reminds me, the whole point of this conversation was about getting me a subclass, wasn’t it? Once upon a time.
I really need to get that side-tracking issue under control.
“Ah, this…” However, the Elder answers before I could attempt to reroute the discussion. “Long, long ago, the Erwynian royalty had at their service a secret intervention corps going by the name Ninja. They were strong warriors specialised in deceit, torture and covert assassination.”
“I see.” I bet some anime-loving God of Chaos had a role to play in this. Then, for some reason, the image of a blond woman with ice-blue eyes pops up in my mind. I raise an eyebrow at the Elder. “And I suppose those secret agents have nothing to do with Kansas?”
“No, of course not.”
“Of course.” I nod. “And you happen to know about a secret royal assassination squad because…?” I leave my question in suspense and raise my palms up with a slow shrug as an invite to enlighten me.
“Erm…Secret old people information gathering skills?” he replied with a disarming smile.
“Are you trolling me?”
“Based on your tone, I shall answer yes,” the Elder replies without an ounce of shame. “But what have trolls to do with anything?”
With a sense of defeat, I sigh and shake my head, looking down and massaging the bridge of my nose. “Nothing good, I’m afraid.”
“They rarely do.” He seriously nods while holding his chin.
I can almost hear the headache poking at my skull. “Let’s stop this. I’ve got a feeling we are digressing more and more from the initial subject and making less and less sense.”
…
Did you just summarize your whole life in one sentence? Can I kill you? No, you can’t. That’s depressing. Not as much as your life.
“Indeed we have.” The elderly man sounds actually surprised to notice how off-track we’ve gotten. “I think I have let your aura affect me. The Chaos truly is strong in you.”
I let out a dejected sigh. “You have no idea.”
*ting*
For spreading Their influence, Chaos rewards you. [+1 Luck]
I facepalm, earning myself a concerned look from the Elder.
“Are you okay, Son?”
“Yes, old man. I just realized I should be careful when I look at the chaos, for the Chaos looks back.” And he’s painfully irritating.
“Oh. You are surprisingly wise when you try.”
“…Why do I feel both flattered and insulted? …Never Mind. Can we get on with the subclass thing? Quick, before I suddenly get overwhelmed by the urge to discuss broccoli soup.”
“Mmmh…broccoli soup, a tasteful meal if I have eaten any—”
“GET ON WITH IT!!!”
Startled by my shout, the Elder straightens, mumbling something I suspect rude about corrupting spirits before raising his voice. “Ahem…Alright.” He suddenly adopts a deep professorial atmosphere. In cue, I sit in seiza before him and try to look like an attentive student—which I am…as long as the subject matter can hold my interest.
“Jests aside,” the old man coughs. “Here is one secret I am willing to reveal. The village of Kansas has, for hundreds of years now, protected the entrance to a secret valley.”
Oooooooh! Secret valley. Sounds promising.
My eyes naturally slide towards the wide emerald mesa blocking the horizon behind the village. No need for a degree in advanced glowing mountain geography to conjecture where that “secret valley” is located. I’m admittedly slightly surprised. I just hadn’t thought a whole valley could hide in there. I kind of dumbly assumed this was one mountain, with maybe a cave system inside. This blindsided me a little.
The ancient follows my gaze approvingly. “As usual, you catch up fast. Good. I have always appreciated your wits. Indeed, as you have no doubt guessed, this ‘mountain’ is but a hollow wall. A bowl of sort. And behind that stone wall lay sealed-up grounds nobody set foot upon for at least three centuries. In the middle of those grounds stands a curs–*COUGH* *COUGH* *cough* Sorry. That old cough…”
“Sure.” I stared intently at him and he isn’t meeting my gaze.
“Erm…As I were saying, in the middle of those ancient grounds, there stands the lost Castle of Bluerose.”
“You’re not even trying, are you?”
“…and inside this fortress resides the Exiled Immortal Princess. She is the one who can grant you what you seek.”
Nope. He’s clearly not.
*ting*
Quest Update: [The Plot]
Objectives
Stop the bad guys before they destroy the world, by any means necessary, and I do mean any. (I tried to keep it simple for you. Sincerely, Bob, God of Chaos.)
Stage 1: Join the fun! [In Progress]
The Seven Dark Lords may have left this world, but their legacies remain (which honestly is part of the issue). Locate one of their power and seize it for yourself! Careful, others might have their sights on it. Hint: power might be closer than you think.
Update: Secret info: Power isn’t far indeed! By completing the seemingly inconsequential request of the old chief of Kansas village, you have obtained the trust of this mysterious individual and been granted access to the forgotten valley of Nowhere. There lives a mysterious enchantress who may (or may not) hold the secret to this mysteriously mysterious power you seek. Very mysterious.
Stage 2: [Locked] 🔒
Success Condition: Seize the ancient power before anyone else gets to it. Failure Conditions: Let the power be snatched away from you. Reward: A unique class.
I give the window a quick read. Nothing very surprising there, although the fact I’m now officially going Nowhere is a little saddening.
The window summarily dismissed, I return my penetrating gaze to the Elder.
“Does she now?”
“…”
A long silence ensues—a loooooooooong silence—during which the Elder, now sweating bullets, seems to be conjuring his damnedest efforts to look at everything but me.
I scratch an itchy spot on my bald head and inspect my nails before flicking away an inexistent speck of dirt. “Err…Elder. Just to be sure…Were you trying to be discreet with that slip up?”
*jiiiiiiiiii*
“…”
*jiiiiiiiiii*
“…”
*jiiiiiiiiii*
“…”
Honestly, I don’t have any real reason to let the old man stew like this. I’m already more or less in a contract with the God of Chaos that tells me to go to that valley, cursed castle or not. Even regardless of any divine pressure, my self-destructive curiosity is simply too strong for me to resist going now that I know it’s there.
In fact, I’m eighty percent sure Chaos chose me for this—likely suicide—mission because he knew I couldn’t say no. Only eighty percent, because the last fifth is that he just picked someone at random. It would make sense, paradoxically enough.
But I do enjoy watching people squirm with guilt. Squirm, squirm, squirm, squirm little worm. How I love you so forlorn~ ♪
A detail has caught my attention though, so I eventually put a stop to my silent mental torture.
“You said immortal…” The memory of about forty centimetres of similarly described squeaky and bony arrogance floats in my mind. “Your princess…She’s not a lich, right?”
The Elder’s asymmetrical eyes widen. “A lich?! Gods no!!” he exclaims, a tad too fast I think. “I mean. No, nothing of the sort. *cough* Just your average, everyday, common, run-of-the-mill, not exactly undead at all, next-door immortal princess… Nothing suspicious there. Hehe.”
“…I’m sure.” My drawl is even more deadpan than earlier. I didn’t know it was possible.
The Elder is sweating profusely. The midday sunlight reflects and diffracts over his mostly bald scalp—though he still has more hair than me, which is annoying—to the point of crowing the man with a rainbow of guilt. It’s strangely picturesque.
“Hm hum… *cough* Anyway.” He seems to regain a semblance of composure. “I can open a path for you, and guide you up to the entrance of Nowhere—that is the name of the valley.” I don’t mention I already know. “However Young O—Elric, you will have to reach Bluerose by yourself. And it will also up to you alone to…err…deal…with Vi—the princess.”
…
……
………
Admiral Ackbar, please? It’s your cue.
IT’S A TRAP!!!
Thank you.
Now, I enjoy jumping into shark-filled rivers with weights attached to my bound feet as much as the next guy. But this is ridiculous. I know it’s a trap. He knows I know it’s a trap. That’s not the issue.
I get it. This is a game. You’re not supposed to call every NPC on their bullshit. We players have a whole culture of clichés and templates that allows us to read between the lines, but we still go for obvious shady deals. Because it’s part of the entertainment. And that’s why we have respawns.
However there is supposed to be an etiquette to things. A protocol. Do NOT make it SO obvious! Why not hang a giant neon sign saying “GET SCREWED OVER FOR CHEAP”???
I sigh. This is ridiculous.
I think the chief takes my sigh as meaning I’m going to refuse his offer, and saying he doesn’t take it well is an understatement. He lets out one prolonged sigh of his own. Suddenly, he seems to age by a century or two. His already scrawny figures seems to shrink like a deflated balloon.
For the first time since coming in this village, I see in front of me what the Elder always pretends to be: a fragile, powerless old man, exhausted by the hardships of a long life. The golden eyes have lost their shine, and are staring in defeat at some ancient sombre memories. Then, they look up at me who’s patiently waiting to the side, before shying away from my gaze.
“Apologies, Elric.” The Elder’s voice comes out but a whisper. “How shameful of me. To so try and abuse of your kindness and cluelessness. Forget about what I just told you. I shall not bother you about this anymore. Go back to Dorothy. That girl truly needs you. I am just an old dusty relic pushing the responsibility for his past failure onto the young generation once again. Ha! What an Elder I make!” He lets out another heavy sigh and his voice devolves to an even less audible murmur. “It would seem age did not make me any wiser than I was back then. How laughable.”
Well…that took a pretty depressing turn. We can’t have that. Life’s meant to be fun, you know?
As the old man is laboriously getting up, a look of hopeless resignation on his aged face, I grab his hand. He looks down at me and a confused frown scrunches his pale blond eyebrows, no doubt because of the wide toothy grin adorning my own face—so wide it brings out all my dimples and narrows my eyes to slits.
“A cursed location? To meet with an unknown immortal? For a possibly totally unsuitable reward? And am I right to assume that castle is ridiculously difficult to get to?”
His golden eyes shift uncertainly to the sides. “Erm…As I said, Elric, I appolo—”
“Where do I sign?”
“…Eh?”
There is a saying in my book. A shady opportunity is like a fart. The loudest in not always the smelliest in the end. Rule 211.
* * *
The Elder left right after I agreed to virtually go bungee jumping without checking neither the length of the cord, nor the height of the bridge, nor the origin of those red smudges I saw on the ground down below. A short while later, I gather my tools—Martha’s tools actually—and my repaired enchanted glider, and make my way back to the house.
I spend the next couple hours playing with Dorothy and masterfully dodging Martha’s attempts at showing me her “gratitude” by cooking dinner herself—I still privately believe this is her trying to get rid of me now that I have outlived my purpose. It doesn’t matter what system windows say about “maximum intimacy” or whatnot. Maximum intimacy with a serial killer still doesn’t guaranty they won’t make garlands out of your intestine once Christmas comes around and they’re short on decorations for their Christmas tree.
I cook us a simple but comestible meal and we eat in companionable chatter—well, especially Dorothy and I. Martha just kind of sits there and nods from time to time.
As we wash the dishes, I finally break the news to them that I’ll be leaving in two days. That’s when the Elder and I agreed he’d guide me to the valley. I’m supposed to meet him at his hut first thing in the morning on the day after tomorrow. Why the short notice? I don’t know. But I am a signature traced in my own blood away from selling my soul to the Devil at this point, so what can a total lack of time to prepare really do to worsen my situation?
…
……
………
Who am I kidding? I’m so going to get slaughtered. But that’s half of the fun, right?
…Right?
Martha takes my announcement like she does most of everything, with disinterested stoicism.
Dorothy…less so. She clings to my legs, crying and asking me no to go. Calming her takes another hour. In fact she doesn’t as much calm down as cry herself to sleep. She simply refused to listen to anything I tried to tell her. It also didn’t help that I would be mostly “absent” during the next two days. I needed some real rest to prepare myself to what awaited me in Nowhere.
You try to explain to a wailing child that your mind needs to travel to another world to rest while your body lies in the room next to hers. Not so easy, is it?
Not for the first time, I ponder on why the programmers at Whatever didn’t deem necessary to implement basic concepts about adventurers inside the NPCs’ consciousness.
Hell! Some NPCs have never even heard of the existence of adventurers. Most of the civilized regions I’ve crossed have at least some legends, ancient tales foretelling the arrival of otherworldly beings with abnormal powers and cheat growth rates, but those tales never go into much details and are often riddled with inaccuracies.
Well, I’m not exactly complaining. Not having “Descended Demigod” or “Cursed Envoy of the Underworld” metaphorically plastered on my forehead wherever I go is a positive thing as far as I’m concerned. I already receive far too much attention as it is. But that general ignorance also often leads to awkward situations like these.
“Apologies. She’s scared.”
Martha’s voice startles me as I step outside of Dorothy’s bedroom after putting the child to bed. I quickly recover and address a fast smile at the scary woman. “I know. There’s nothing to apologise for. She just remembered losing her family. This is too similar.” I chuckle and look over my shoulder at the closed door. “Am I a terrible person for being a little happy she’d cry over me leaving?”
“You’re not.” The soft monotone replies comes from behind me.
I cast a surprised glance at Martha, whose impassive face doesn’t give me any clue as to what she’s thinking. As usual.
“Thank…you?” It suddenly strikes me that Martha likely knows things about this valley and the supposed princess living there. For a moment, I contemplate asking her, but eventually decide against it. She wouldn’t tell me anything the Elder isn’t willing to share. And the same goes for the other villagers, except Dorothy. There’s an almost abnormal level of loyalty towards the Elder amongst the Kansan population. Not exactly creepy, but a little disquieting. Like most small isolated communities can be. We modern world folks living surrounded by information technology can’t really get this sort of mentality. “Goodnight, Martha.”
“Goodnight, Sir Walker.”
With a somewhat familiar mixture of regret and anticipation, I walk into my small room, lay down on the bare mattress, close my eyes and log out of the game.
This break has lasted long enough.
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