— CHAPTER ELEVEN —

A Couple of Boys on a Quest

  -Fritz-

 I hurried down the road after Percy. The trees that had flanked the path near the lake gave way abruptly as we crested a shallow hill. My pace slowed as I caught up to Percy, who had stopped to stare.

 "Well, damn." I said.

 Below us sprawled the charred remnants of what had once been a quaint little town. Blackened timber frames jutted up like skeletons while the worst-off had crumbled entirely into heaps of ash. Not a single building remained intact. We exchanged a look, then walked down to get a closer look. Charred beams creaked and groaned around us, and the air still had that ashen, dusty smell to it.

 I pulled up my map and checked our progress. We were only about a quarter of the way from Faustenburg to Stonehearth; a little short of Titus' estimation. But it was too... active to be generic set dressing. Another support beam collapsed as we surveyed the place, kicking up a cloud of soot. And the mobs in the surrounding fields stayed well away from the perimeter - the same kind of berth they gave actual towns.

 "Hey, Percy, how dynamic are the events in this game?"

 He was picking his way into a ruined tavern. "Depends how much you want to believe the marketing. They claim there are consequences to your actions, but it's all a bunch of keywords. It probably resets on a timer or gets rebuilt by another event."

 "Do you know that for a fact or are you saying it to make me feel better?"

 "I don't have a clue. Maybe the orphanage has better documentation on quest mechanics." He opened his map and started making notes.

 I walked over to what remained of one of the houses and brushed my boot through the pile of ashes. The house had been burnt down to its foundation, and mixed into the grey ash were traces of glowing blue specks. They really destroyed the place.

 As I paced around the ruins, Percy was busy snapping pictures with the camera mode on his menu. The road was choked with debris - chips of scorched wood and scattered stones - but I noticed a trail leading away from one of the houses. A dark smear that staggered down the road a ways before curving into an apple orchard. Perfectly aligned rows of short trees dyed black in the fading light.

 "Percy!" I called out. "Over here!"

 He came jogging over. Seeing the line of ashes, he summoned an orb of fire behind his shoulder and drew his sword. "Scavenger, you think?" He stalked forward like a cat, carefully watching his surroundings. I drew my own spear and followed behind cautiously. If it was an enemy, we'd be lucky if we could survive a single hit. Shoulda sprung for those ice crystals. Or a flashlight.

 Then something glinted in my periphery. Before I could react, Percy was moving, diving to the side and throwing out the prepared fireball. It exploded against something metallic with a light *ting!*, followed by a woman's terrified scream. The object went flying into the air - a frying pan, glinting in the twilight, spun end over end before thudding to the ground at the feet of a cowering woman in a plain dress. She had fallen backward and was scrabbling away from us in sheer panic. She was an NPC, but that was genuine fear in her eyes.

 "Woah, easy there!" I held up my hand and lowered my spear. "We were just passing by and saw what happened to that village. Are you ok?"

 Percival was a little more hesitant - he glanced around before sheathing his sword. The woman slumped back against an apple tree, her chest heaving as she gulped in deep breaths.

 "Praise the Goddess! I thought they would come back to make sure it was done." She clasped her hands to her chest and did her best to recompose herself. "It was the Resistance! They held my mother at swordpoint and demanded we turn over whatever we could. We- we tried, we begged and pleaded, but it wasn't enough for those heartless fiends. They set our homes ablaze and cut down everyone they could find. I barely escaped with my life and hid here. Once I'd heard their horses pass, I went back to do what I could, and I pulled my father out from our home. He was already sick when they arrived - confined to his bed."

 The woman pushed herself up and hurried a few rows back to kneel beside a man laying in the shadows. "Please, they destroyed anything I could use to help him - have you any elixirs or cures? I'll do anything!"

 I had some potions, yeah - I wasn't completely unprepared - but Percy beat me to the punch.

 "Medi!" He threw out a ball of golden light that splashed over the man like water.

 The man coughed weakly and stirred, grumbling and groaning. The woman gasped, then broke down into tears, hugging him close. "Father! Oh, rest; save your strength. Thank you!"

 "Our pleasure, Ma'am." I said. "Do you need a hand getting him to a town? The closest one I know is a few hours back toward Faustenburg."

 "Oh yes, if you could-" she began, then stopped short. "No, wait! There is something else! When I went back this morning, after the fire had died, I searched for any usable supplies in the wreckage. But there- there wasn't enough bodies! There must be others somewhere!"

 "You think they took prisoners?" I asked.

 She nodded vigorously. "They must have! Don't trouble yourselves about us; we have water and apples here in the orchard. But please, if you could follow those Resistance soldiers, please find those they took! I beg of you!"

 "We'll see what we can do, but they'll have, what, a day's head start?" I asked.

 Percy said, "The prisoners will slow them down. They're not going to set this up if it's not possible to solve."

 "Thank you, a thousand times thank you!" the woman exclaimed. "You're the Goddess' own hands!"

 The man whispered something, and the woman leaned in close to hear him. "You're certain?" she asked. At his nod, she turned back to us. "Down the road, at the end of the fields, there's a cache of my father's old monster hunting supplies. It's buried at the base of a gnarled tree standing apart from the others. Take anything you need - the soldiers went off that way as well! Please, hurry!"

 "Alright." I said. "You wait here, maybe check there's no one else hiding nearby. We'll get the prisoners and escort you all to a town."

 "Good luck!"

 As we left the orchard and turned to continue down the road, Percy said, "Interesting. Not only do quests change based on other people's actions, but there are hidden rewards for optional objectives, too."

 "Is it all about the loot to you, man?"

 "Yes." he replied flatly. "They're objects within a computer program."

 "Come on, seeing that woman cry her heart out didn't get you sniffling even a little?"

 "Not really; I'm not into trauma dumps." He opened his map and kept writing his notes.

 I sighed. Cold as that crappie, he was.

 A few minutes later, we came to a wooden bridge arching over a wide, lazily flowing river. On the far shore, the tilled fields and farmland paused and opened up into a vast expanse of open pastureland stretching to the horizon. The wind rippled through the knee-high tufts of grass, making waves that shimmered between green and gold in the sunset. Horses in a smorgasbord of coat patterns ran free across the plain, their manes and tails streaming behind them.

 And there, just as the woman had said, a copse of trees huddled on the riverbank. One ancient, weathered tree stood apart from the others, so far outside the group that the road had to curve around it. Its branches were stuck together in a thick tangle, and its bark was greying. Despite the half-dead look, its roots spread out in a 'V' shape, making a lovely little nook perfect for an afternoon sit down on the riverbank, watching the horses frolic. Or to bury treasure!

 "You got a shovel?" I asked.

 "Nope."

 "Huh. ... Does earth magic let you dig holes?"

 "In the trailers, yeah, but all I've got right now is conjuring bolts."

 I scratched my chin, thinking. "What weapon would work best for digging?"

 Drawing his sword, Percy suggested, "I'll stab the ground to loosen the soil. You shovel it out with... I don't know, a greataxe? That's got a wide blade."

 "Better than nothing."

 And so we engaged our most tenacious foe yet - Mother Earth herself! Percy threw in some water spells to tenderize the beast while I went ham, raking the axe to scoop out her rocky innards. She was a mighty foe, but every chip we dealt wore away ay that tough hide - we would not give in! Rocks beware, the Dig Boys are in town!

(P) I am not calling myself a 'Dig Boy'.

-F- Shovel Squad then, fine.

 At last, Percy cried out in triumph, plunging his blade deep into the enemy's intestines. It thumped against something solid about two feet under the surface.

 "Jackpot!" I exclaimed. Together, we hauled a heavy wooden trunk out of the hole and popped it open.

 Inside was a trove of equipment. A coil of chain with a padlock, packets of smoke powder, a silver dagger inscribed with magic runes, and- "Well hello there, beautiful!" A small crossbow, compact enough for wielding with one hand. I picked it up and checked its stats. It was classified as a sidearm - exactly what I was dreaming of! And the numbers were insane! It must have been normal for the zone - intended for the level 10-15 range, but it didn't have any requirements! I could rock that baby at level 3!

 "Oh hell yeah!" I let it equip into my left hand and drew my spear with my right, taking aim at an imaginary target down the road. "I'm here to peg some suckheads!"

 Percy, examining the dagger, said, "This disrupts any magic it touches. That could have niche uses even at high levels. I wonder how common of an effect that is."

 "No cooldown or level cap on the effect?"

 "Not listed anyway."

Stolen novel; please report.

 "Then that's broken as hell! It's gotta be rare!"

 He slipped it into one of his belt pouches and asked, "You want the chain or the smoke bombs?"

 "Oh, I absolutely want to whip a fool with a chain!"

 He packed the smoke powder into his belt while I picked up the chain. It didn't have any combat stats - it wasn't supposed to be a weapon, but we'd see how that one worked out.

 As we continued down the road, Percy went into his map and kept making notes on what we'd found. He was so focused on the writing that he didn't notice the tree up ahead - a tall, gnarled oak leaning over the road. What stopped me wasn't the tree itself but the body hanging from it. A grimy sack had been pulled over the man's head and a sign hanging around his neck was painted with messy letters: 'All who oppose the Resistance are traitors!'

 I stopped in my tracks. "Good god - there are children playing this game, man!"

 Percy glanced up. "Command Sharp: Spell: Igni. Command Sharp: Spell One: Cast." A burst of flame shot past him, incinerating the rope. The body thumped to the ground in a heap. He hurried over, drawing that new dagger to cut the rope away.

 "You think they left something on him?" I asked.

 "No, think for a second - dead people turn into dust. Even in cutscenes. That is what the lore acknowledges as death."

 I froze. "Is he still alive?!"

 Percy yanked the hood off, revealing the man's heavily bruised, purple and red face. One eye was swollen shut, and the other was a vacantly staring slit. And his health bar wasn't empty!

 "Yep - just a sliver left. Medi!"

 As the healing magic suffused the man, he convulsed and gasped and groaned. I stepped over to help drag him to the tree and propped him in a sitting position while Percy cut his limbs loose.

 "Easy, buddy." I said. "You're still with us. Can you hear me?"

 The man managed a shaky nod and a rasp, his one bleary eye scanning around me but not focusing.

 "How long have you been here?" I asked. "Where did the others go?"

 With a trembling hand, he pointed down the road. "F-five. With two prisoners. Left me... this morning..."

 I gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Ok. Hang tight - sorry, wait here; we'll get 'em, then come back for you. There're some survivors holed up in an orchard nearby."

 The man nodded and sagged against the tree, his labored breathing the only sound in the gathering dusk.

 Springing to my feet, I said, "Let's go, Perce!" I took off at a sprint, kicking up a cloud of dust running down the road. Percy easily outstripped- then fell into pace beside- me. Little bastard flaunting that youthful energy. If I were five years younger-!

 "So not everything gives a reward." he commented.

 "Come on, man, people are in danger!"

 "They're not people."

 "They're close enough!"

 We ran full-tilt for maybe half an hour. The game didn't have a hard fatigue system - there were no tired limbs or burning lungs, but sweat was pouring down my face and my heart was jackhammering. The sun set fully as we ran, and the moon was hidden behind the clouds, leaving us in near total darkness. Fireflies lit up the landscape, and the howls of something I did not want to meet echoed through the hills.

 Eventually, a light appeared up ahead - firelight in the road. We slowed as we approached, ducking off the road and crouching in a shallow ditch running beside it. I army-crawled through the weeds until the blue cloaked figures came into view. Two were holding torches - one on horseback waiting on the road and the other helping his comrades tie a gagged man's hands behind his back.

 I started to spring up and reach for my weapons, but Percy dragged me back into the ditch. "They're level 12." he whispered. "8 up on us."

 "NPCs or not - I'm not letting this happen!"

 He pinned me with that cold, unfeeling look, the fire reflected in his eyes. "That's not what I'm saying. Remember - preparation is key."

*Torglax* I watched as my men tied up one of the prisoners. The last one I kept by my side, one hand firmly on his shoulder. "Make sure you set him up to last till noon!" I called out to them. "We want him to be seen!"

 I leaned in close to the prisoner beside me, his breath quickening. "How long do you think you'll last?"

 He swallowed hard. "A good while, I hope." he squeaked.

 "I hope that, too." I gave his shoulder a squeeze, relishing the fear in his eyes.

 One of my agents looped the rope around the other prisoner's neck and tossed the end up into the shadowed branches above. It fell back down. "Can you hold the light a little higher? I can't see the bloody branch."

 The other bloke stood on tiptoe, stretching his arm up as high as he could while his partner tried again and again to sling the rope over. I shook my head. Useless, the lot of them. But loyalty was hard to come by these days.

 "Idiots!" I barked. "We don't have all night!" Shoving the prisoner toward the horses, I grumbled under my breath. "It's hard to find good help these days. We only ever get the desperate bunglers now."

 "O-oh?" the prisoner perked up with a hint of hope. "Are you, uh... hiring?"

 I narrowed my eyes at him. The cheeky bastard.

 He laughed nervously. "You know, we out here have been crushed under the boots of the bourgeoisie as much as anyone! Death to the Crown and all that! Hey, we could even hang those, uh, bunglers instead. Nobody will be able to tell the difference!"

 I grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back. "Are you suggesting I kill my own men?! They may be bunglers, but they're MY bunglers!"

 The prisoner flinched, his eyes wide with terror.

 With a sudden sizzle, the torch behind us went out, plunging us into darkness.

 "Aw, man." one of the men whined.

 "Nice job, Greg."

 I whirled around, squinting into the black. "What are you idiots doing now?!"

 Silence. Then a nervous gulp and the sound of panicked scuffling.

 Huffing out an exasperated breath, I thrust my hand out to the man still on his horse. "Give me that."

 He passed me his torch and took hold of the prisoner while I stalked back toward the hanging tree, holding the light out in front of me. But as I approached the spot, where my men had stood just moments before, there was nothing left but a couple piles of glittering blue dust, swirling in the night breeze.

 "My bunglers!" The anguished cry tore from my throat.

 SMACK! The torch was knocked from my hand. It spun through the air, clattering to the ground near the horses' hooves. It squealed in fright, rearing up and throwing its rider. He landed hard in the dirt with a pained "Oof!"

 As he lay in the dirt, a fiery Irish devil flew from the shadows, leaping on the fallen man, blade flashing. I- SMACK! A whip to the side of the head sent me reeling. The world tumbled end over end as I rolled across the rough ground until a heavy boot thudded into my chest, pinning me flat on my back.

 Gasping, I looked up into a man's shadowed face, a long chain dangling from his fist, glinting in the hellish light. The red-headed demon straightened from the shimmering cloud of dust that had once been my agent, his teeth bared in a feral grin.

 "Tie him up!" the devil hissed devilishly. "Let's see how far this roleplay goes!"

 The man standing over me chuckled. "Way ahead of you."

-Fritz- I wrapped the lead Resistance Agent up in the chain and locked it with the padlock. His arms were tightly bound to the chest; no way he was getting out of that. Standing up, I looked over the carnage.

 One, two, three bodies... wait a minute.

 Percy kicked the torch lying on the ground, launching it into the air. Catching it, he lunged into the darkness just as a cloaked figure charged at me, thrusting the flaming brand into the man's face with a sickening sizzle. The figure recoiled, dropping his sword to clutch at his detextured face. Percy pounced mercilessly, cutting his throat and killing him instantly. A flash of cold blue light, and the body disintegrated into dust.

 "Nice catch." I said.

 Straightening up and brushing the dust off his pants, he said, "I guess the information was the reward from that last one. So, what's our reward from you?" He held the torch near the lead agent-

(P) He has a name, you know.

-F- Sorry, sorry. He held the torch up to Torglax's face.

 He glared up at us, snarling with a fierce determination. "You're not getting anything from me - I live for the Resistance! Death to the Crown!" He spat at Percy's feet.

 The kid shook the torch, sending a sprinkling of embers pattering across his nose, where they sizzled and singed away pieces of the texture.

 "What would you like to lose first, your left eye, or the right?"

 "Christ, Perce, why is that the first thing you try?"

 "I don't know. What else can we do? Take him back to Faustenburg?"

 "Sure," I shrugged, "maybe there's a bounty on him!"

 "... Alright." He stood and strode back to the hanging tree. The other torch was still lying on the ground. "Igni!" He relit it, then tossed one to me. Ducking behind the tree, he retrieved the man they were going to hang, cut his bonds, and took the sack off his head.

 The second prisoner was on the ground, wiggling against the bonds on his hands like a fish. Percy knelt and cut him free while the first man rubbed his neck. "Thank the Divine Light! I thought I was gonna choke up there like Oliver!"

 "Oliver?" I asked. "Is that the guy that was left on a tree a ways back? He's alive - though not in good shape. We should get back there fast."

 I hauled Torglax up by the scruff of his cloak. Percy had already started rummaging through the felled Resistance agents' saddlebags, looking for anything useful.

 "Oh, good idea." I said, shoving Torglax toward the rescued prisoners. "Watch this guy for me, will you?"

 The one who was talking to him earlier slung an arm around the chained man's shoulders with a wry grin. "Looks like you chose the wrong bunglers, friend."

 In one of the saddlebags, I found a tarnished badge and a beat up journal. "Oh ho, what've we got here? 10 pfennigs say this has all their dastardly plans!"

 Percy said, "I'm not taking that bet; what else could be in there?"

 I flipped it open and cleared my throat. "Melt ½ cup butter in saucepan. Remove from heat. Add ½ cup flour, 1 cup sugar, 2 eggs, ⅓ cup cocoa, and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Spread batter into pan."

 "Are those... brownies?"

 "It's his secret recipe!"

 "My mom always added marshmallow creme."

 "How freeform is cooking in here?" I asked. "Could you make that? And does it affect the taste?"

 "I haven't experimented with it. So what does the journal actually say?"

 I cleared my throat and adopted my best gravelly villain voice, ready to regale him with the rest of Torglax's nefarious dessert plotting.

> The plan is proceeding surprisingly smoothly. My men and I have obtained Resistance insignias and infiltrated Loyalist territory. It amuses me how easily these simple folk are manipulated by a few well-placed lies and acts of brutality.

>

> I was skeptical at first - these recruits they stuck me with are as clumsy as newborn cubs trying to walk on ice, but their loyalty and dedication to our cause shone through their fumbles and mishaps. Watching them stumble over their own feet while attempting to intimidate the commoners in the last settlement brought a rare smile to my face. Oh, how useless they can be, but their sheer determination to follow my lead was endearing in its own way.

>

> As we were hanging the survivors of the last raid up, I knew that, as long as I have these idiots, this mission wasn't the suicide I'd signed up for. The people will soon remember that we are the saviors. This world will be saved!

>

> 'Death to the Crown' indeed.

>

> Lieutenant Torglax.

 I closed the journal with a snap. "Well, well, well - King's men! A true warden of the realm here, people! I think the Prince is going to be very interested in this one!"

 Torglax growled at us, his face contorted in impotent rage. "You'll pay for what you've done to my bunglers! You'll all pay when the Glorious Dawn rises!"

 "Mhm. I'm sure." I nodded.

 Putting the journal away, I took a closer look at the badge we'd found. 'Falsified Resistance Insignia: A rank-and-file insignia of the Resistance. Consumed on use. Permanently grants the user protection in Resistance-held territory and facilities. Only effective below level 60."

 "Take a look at this." I tossed it to Percy. "What's special about level 60? Is that the max level?"

 He shook his head. "No. Classes go to level 50, and your character goes to 100. 60 must be when the zones require you to side with a faction."

 "Alright. You take that one - I can already go to Townsville."

 He clipped the badge onto his robe, and it disappeared in a shimmer. Flipping through some menus, he said, "Yep, I've got a status now. There must be a Loyalist equivalent somewhere in the Resistance starting region."

 "I'll tell the guys that went over there to keep an eye out."

 As we walked back up the road, I wrote out some messages, and Percy documented it all on that map of his. That thing had to be more writing than map - I don't know how he fit it all on there.

(P) Zooming in all the way and writing in two colors crossways - red and blue, then dotting in purple where they overlap. My mom taught me.

-F- Efficient woman.

 Anyway, there was a wild dog sniffing at Oliver's unconscious body when we got back to him, but as we learned, as long as the body was still there, he was alive. I hoisted him over my shoulder and carried him back to the orchard. The woman and her father were overjoyed to see the other survivors, sweeping them up in tearful embraces.

 By that point, it was far too late to go anywhere, so we slept right there in the orchard. And for breakfast, all I had to do was reach up and pick a fruit - didn't even need to sit up.