Jerome stumbled towards the entrance of the capital city, disgusted by his aborted exploration of a gnoll corpse. His desire to get another crystal wasn’t strong enough to go through that. Killing he’d become inured to; digging around in a dead body was an entirely different experience. Aside from common body horror, it reminded him too much of the Afghan girl he’d been forced to cut open.

Alcohol awaited inside those walls, he was sure of it. Then he could finish his quests.

He had enough presence of mind to transform away from his blood-soaked form and into the gatherer’s form, and then place his clean Bag of Holding back on his person. Then he got on the path, sprinted across the open area, and attempted to enter the city.

“Bag of Holding, eh?” said one of the guards. “Anything to declare?”

Shit. What would be worth declaring? If they searched him and found something then he’d be in trouble before he could accomplish even one of his quests. Of course, there wasn’t all that much in the bag — just money, crystals, and a couple potions that Krystyna had made for him. She’d taken the rest of the bag’s contents to use in herbalism.

“A bunch of crystals,” Jerome said.

“Where from?”

“Outer tribes.” It seemed like a safe bet. Less likely to make the guard mad than saying that some had been acquired in the woods right outside the city walls.

“What’s a gatherer doing fighting the outer tribes?”

“They got in the way.” Jerome realized belatedly that he didn’t have any gathered ingredients, so his story would fall apart if they searched his bag, so he added some detail. “Chased away my prey, so I didn’t get what I wanted, but the money should be good.”

“No kidding. That crystal will fetch you ten gold.”

Ten gold! The storekeeper from before had said three gold was half price… oh well, he’d go somewhere else this time… after he got his drink.

“Where’s the best place to sell it?” The guard seemed to think he only had one, and that was just fine with Jerome. Better to seem like a gatherer who’d just happened upon a payday. “I haven’t gathered this sort of material before.”

“The palace. Come on, you’re a gatherer and you didn’t know that?”

Jerome had no answer, but he was glad of the information. Even better it would give him an excuse to explore the palace! “Thanks,” he said and walked through the gates.

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“Hold on just a second,” said the guard. “Just because you’re selling to the King doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay taxes.”

“Right,” said Jerome. How much would taxes be? This was closest to an income tax, so out of ten gold he would owe the government six. Thank goodness the guard didn’t know about the other crystals! He grabbed six gold coins from last time and handed them over.

The guard’s eyes went wide as it accepted the coins.

Had his payment not been enough? Was the income tax higher than 60% here?

“Th-thanks,” it said. “I, uh… here.” It handed back four gold coins.

Wait, that would mean the tax was less than twenty percent. Maybe even less, if the guard had decided to steal some for itself.

Twenty percent! How could they build roads, provide a Basic Income, or do science here on only a twenty percent tax? Maybe the lack of Basic Income was why the outer tribes didn’t like King Katani?

It was all too confusing.

Jerome walked through the gate, which triggered memories of Rayi. Back when he was alive.

A drink was definitely in order. How had Jerome gone so long without one?

He ducked into the first building with a cup of frothy liquid on the sign. The outside was just as pristine as every other building on the street, but the inside contained an aura of seediness that did not surprise him. Back when he’d done odd jobs, before he’d settled into living completely off of Basic Income, this was the type of joint that he’d gone to.

“Gatherer?” said the gnoll barkeep. “Must be hard on your luck to show up here.”

Yes, this was definitely the type of bar he was used to. He was much richer here than on Earth, but that didn’t matter. A drink was a drink.

“Just give me some alcohol.”

“Really hard on your luck. That’s okay, we don’t ask questions here… but we do ask you to pay up front.”

Jerome produced a silver and the barkeep took it, then gave him back some coppers and a cup full of bubbling liquid. The liquid burned his throat far more than the stomach acid, but it was a strong relaxing burn.

This feeling! This glorious feeling! The alcohol didn’t hit immediately, but he knew it was coming, and that was good enough to drop him into a better state.

This was a strong drink. Or maybe his tolerance had lessened, since he’d been without for a while. Whatever the reason, the rush of relaxation and joy was fantastic. Now if only he had a good porno or an easy RPG to sit down with he could easily forget all of his problems.

He’d have to settle for a second drink.

“Another.”

Jerome put all seven of the coppers on the table and the barkeep took five of them. So there were twelve coppers in a silver. Useful knowledge. A good insight. The Gnollture quest was practically completed. Maybe by the end of the second drink he’d be able to get it all the way done.

He downed the entire glass without even taking a breath.

“Another.”