When Stick woke up the next day, he felt awful. Even though it was way warmer to stay inside the communal tent overnight, he hadn't taken into account how much the snoring, tumbling, and turning of the other miners practically laying on top of each other would impact his quality of sleep. It was very difficult to stay awake during breakfast. The warm bowl in his freezing hands felt so good that he constantly nodded off, nearly plunging his face into the stew. By the time the lords were to be greeted, his bowl was still half full. Maybe the world can wait a day or two for the Greatest Hero to arrive with a full night's sleep.

When the knights finally arrived to take them to the mines, he got an idea. He just had to trick Reacher into healing him. His eye bags would surely convince the Mace that he was too sick to work. Although Stick gave the man the best coughing fit he could fake, Reacher didn't get off his horse that day.

"Get in line," he simply commanded.

Stick didn't feel like he was able to keep himself awake. He had to plead to Reacher's fondness of Players, even if the others didn't like that. He tried to sound as hoarse as he could.

"Please, I can barely stand."

"No more healing. No exceptions. Baron's orders," Reacher stated.

Stick gasped but tried to play it cool. Becket snickered upon seeing his reaction, and Stick could immediately tell what was up. That snitch!

"You're definitely a Player," Reacher said, as if to assure himself.

"What?" Stick asked.

"NPCs only get sick when struck by disease as a game mechanic. It's usually a specific debuff. You, on the other hand," Reacher said, "you just have a simple cold."

"Is that so?"

Reacher didn't respond. He looked shocked.

"What's wrong?" Becket asked, but he didn't get an answer right away.

Reacher pointed to Stick. "His Status."

Becket led his horse close to Reacher's, his eyes widening. "Stick… Arslan? What? Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Explain yourself!" the Mace barked.

How do they know my name?

"What are you talking about?"

"You're taking us for fools?" Becket asked. "The name on your Status wasn't there before. How did you do that?"

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

"What? Really?" Stick completely forgot about his supposed hoarse voice, sounding a bit too gleeful despite his lack of sleep.

Reacher didn't care about the faked illness either, instead got increasingly mad at the name. "How did you hide it?"

"I didn't!" Stick explained. "I just gave myself a name yesterday."

"And we're supposed to believe that?" Reacher was ready to get off his horse and throw some fists, but Becket ordered him to stand down.

"Arslan is not a surname," Becket grunted as he shook his head.

"What did you say?" Reacher's frustration shifted to Becket.

"If we are to believe his amnesia, then this would be the first time he named himself," Becket explained. "It seems plausible that this is just a boy without memories playing dress up."

Reacher raised an eyebrow. "So the game accepted the first name he gave himself because it doesn't know his real one?"

Becket shrugged. "That's game logic for you. Do you have any other ideas?"

Reacher sighed. He seemed less accepting of the explanation than Becket. Once again they're in their own world.

"What kind of name is Stick anyway?" Reacher said like an insulted brat.

Without any further comments, the slaves set out for the mines. The trek was especially hard that day since they had to wade through the freshly fallen snow. Stick rubbed some on his face to wake up better. If it wasn't for his feet slowly going numb from the cold, he would have said that that day felt warmer than the previous ones, now that the snow had settled. Luckily, the God of Life protected their limbs from freezing completely and dying off. Damn, it's cold.

image [https://i.imgur.com/GeAWjkv.jpeg]

That didn't mean that he wouldn't immediately use his torch to warm his stiff toes the second they got into the cave. And so he did. The uneasy feeling of ants walking all over his feet was unpleasant, to say the least, but still a welcome change of pace. I have to move if I want to have dinner though!

When he started to feel the ground beneath his feet again, he quickly descended into the deepest part of the mines, passing by the others that got inside before him with a smile on his face in search of his hidden stash. He found the bag in the usual space untouched and pulled out two gems. It's all used up now.

A wave of sadness overcame him. So much of his efforts were now gone. The stash was an answer to the suffering he had gone through after Montgomery disappeared. During those grueling months, he felt like this day would never come. That he was working so hard for a time that would never witness. But now that he had his stronger body, his followers and friends by his side, and an escape plan that would convince even Sir Moore, things were different. It was either hope or lunacy that got him here. He somehow felt a bit nostalgic thinking back. It's only just a few more days.

He knew he had to find at least five more gems if he wanted to get priority at dinner that evening, so he double-timed it to the tunnel, throwing the now empty sack into the big hole on the way. When he arrived at his usual spot beside PP, he quickly struck his pickaxe into the wall. It didn't take him very long to find his first gem. He soon found the second and the third and… something that felt different. A diamond!

Inspired by his find, he plowed through the wall relatively easily, hitting it over and over again. With heavy swings, he got more and more rubble and gravel out of the way. That way he could easily-

Someone grabbed him by the tent he used as a mantle and pulled him back. He choked on the knot he made around his throat to keep the mantle in place, so he tried to slip out of it. He found himself thrown on his backside just a couple of meters away from where he was working. Since they never lit their torches down there, he couldn't see what was happening. What the hell is PP doing?

The Prized Possession, the only other man down there with Stick, placed a hand on his shoulder.