“Tell me something,” Clay said without looking over at Ike. He held the reins in front of him casually as the wagon rolled down the dirt road. “This is all part of one of your prophecies, right? Like the wolf or the beggar you talked about?”

Ike shook his head. “Nope. Just a hunch.” He looked over at the large man seated next to him at the head of the wagon. “Is that okay?”

There was a clattering behind them, followed by some muffled words in goblish.

Clay took a deep breath. “I guess your gambles have a way of paying off. This one’s just a little harder to swallow.”

Ike peeked into the back of the wagon to see Ibril rifling through a box of supplies. The goblin sniffed at a tent pole, gave it a tentative nibble, then tossed it back into the box. He had a wide-eyed, manic sort of energy about him.

Ike shrugged and looked back to the road. “I get it. Though he might be easier to handle right now if he weren’t half crazed from caffeine.”

Clay scratched his head. “How was I supposed to know he’d drink so much? Or that he’d react like some crazy drug fiend? I was just trying to be friendly.”

Ike smiled and shook his head. “I appreciate it. Nothing to do except wait until he gets it out of his system. It’s not like we have a lot going on right now, anyway.”

Clay gave Ike a sideways look. “Speaking of which, can’t you just magic us up to the capital? Ada’s necklace can teleport her to a rest area. Can’t you make something like that?”

Ike squinted uncertainly. “Yes, and no. The teleporting part isn’t a big deal. It’s the destination that’s tricky. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to get us back to Weir: I put a waypoint in the square. Rest areas work similarly, but I haven’t figured out how to take us somewhere that isn’t…” Ike paused, struggling to find the right word, “special.”

“You’re doing it again,” Clay said, a note of reproach in his tone.

“Doing what?” Ike said.

“Dumbing things down for me,” Clay said. “I know you’re smart, but you don’t have to do that.”

Ike nodded. “Got it. Sorry about that. Here’s the full version, then: Locations in this game don’t have a coordinate system I’ve been able to figure out. Instead, they use reference identifiers. I don’t think every location gets one, and the only way to access them is when they’re stored on another object in memory. Your character data stores things like your last rest area or waypoints you’ve visited, so I can use that, but I don’t have an easy way to look up other destination pointers.”

Clay furrowed his brow and stayed silent for a long moment. “Uh huh,” he said at last. “Nevermind about not dumbing things down next time.”

The wagon eased over a gentle bump in the road. The woods they’d been traveling through since morning were becoming thicker the further they went, scattering the sunlight through the canopy.

“Sorry all the same,” Ike said. “I don’t mean to come across as condescending. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve always been a fan of the theory of multiple intelligences.”

Clay looked over. “What? Like schizophrenia?”

Ike shook his head. “You’re probably thinking of multiple personalities, and even that’s a common misunderstanding of schizophrenia. The theory of multiple intelligences says that there are all sorts of ways for people to be smart, including things like music, people skills, and even sports.”

Clay abruptly fell silent. He glowered ahead toward the horses without looking at Ike or responding.

After an awkward moment wondering what he’d said wrong, Ike continued. “The point is, most people are smart in their own way. Just not always the sort of book smarts people put on a pedestal. Getting good grades in school isn’t everything.”

Ibril’s head suddenly appeared between them, the goblin sniffing furiously at the air, then disappeared just as abruptly. Ike could hear the goblin pacing in the cramped confines of the wagon.

A few more minutes passed. Ike glanced over at Clay to see the big man’s hands in a white-knuckle grip on the reins, his face a sullen scowl. “I’m sorry if I said something to upset you,” Ike said at last.

“It’s not you,” Clay said bitterly. He narrowed his eyes. “It’s just… sports.”

Ike nodded slowly. “Sore subject, I take it.” He tried to avoid phrasing it as a question. “I’ll avoid it from now on.”

Clay shook his head. “Don’t. Sorry. It’s just… I’m sure you’re probably wondering why I’m online so much.”

Ike tried not to let the surprise show on his face. He had been wondering if the rest of the party was noticing the same thing about him. “I don’t like to pry,” he said instead. “I figure everyone’s got their circumstances.”

There was another long pause. Ike’s instincts told him that Clay wanted to talk, so he added, “I’m happy to listen any time you want to get something off your chest, though.”

Clay’s head dipped a bit, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. “I was a football player. A linebacker. Damn good at it, too. First-round draft pick.”

Ike knew very little about sports. “That sounds… promising. Not a big surprise, though. You seem like a hell of an athlete. I’m guessing it didn’t turn out well?”

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Clay cracked his knuckles. He spoke in quiet, clipped phrases. “Car accident.” He swallowed hard. “Severed my spinal cord. One of the lower thoracic vertebrae.”

Ike sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. “That’s… awful, Clay.”

“Yeah,” Clay said, his tone numb. “It’s been a few years. Still hard to talk about, though. Lost my career. Fiancé left me. Months in traction, then the spinal brace. They had to screw the neck brace to my skull. Not much muscle left after all that.”

Clay shook his head to clear it and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I get by on the settlement and disability. I help my uncle supervise the odd construction job. And I get to come in here. It’s like it never happened. I get to walk all I want.” He tapped his forehead. “I’ve still got all the right circuits, just not the machinery in real life. So it’s not all bad, I guess.” Clay’s words sounded practiced, but his tone was unconvinced.

Ike crossed his arms, taking a slow, deep breath. His eyes took on the same blank stare as Clay’s as he tried to imagine what it must be like. Ike considered his words for a long minute before responding. “I won’t give you my sympathy,” he said matter-of-factly.

Clay turned toward him and blinked. “Huh?”

Ike met his gaze. “Call it a hunch, but I’m sure that’s the first thing everyone does when you tell your story. They say how sorry they are for you. Offer to help. Worry over your disability. I’m sure you must get sick of it.”

Clay’s mouth opened slightly, but it took him a few moments to respond. “Yeah, actually.”

Ike nodded. “Right. Thank you for telling me. I understand you a little better now. Well enough that I really doubt something like this will keep you down forever. So instead of sympathy, how about I just keep treating you like the brick shithouse I know you are?”

Clay blinked and tilted his head a little. “Okay. Yeah.” Clay sat up a little straighter. “That sounds great, actually. Thanks, Ike.”

Ike smiled and leaned back. He was just about to say more when he heard a clear chime sound inside the wagon. “Oh crap,” Ike said.

He barely had time to turn before a woman’s surprised scream and a goblin’s panicked shriek caused every bird within twenty meters of the wagon to spring into flight.

“Milly!” Ike said. “It’s okay!”

“There’s a goblin in here!” Milly yelled, brandishing her gittern case like a big, unwieldy club.

“Fairy sneak up on Ibril!” Ibril yelled back, cringing in the corner opposite Milly. “Ibril does not go near mound or mushroom circle! Do not curse Ibril!” There was a surprising amount of fear in the goblin’s voice.

Ike slid into the wagon and held his hands up in a mollifying gesture. “Calm down, you two. Everything’s okay. Nobody’s going to…” He turned to Ibril. “What’s this about curses?”

Ibril straightened a little, but kept his hands up in a defensive gesture as he cast nervous glances toward Milly. “Milk hair… Ike does not know fairies? Dangerous. Secret. Give berries and milk.”

Milly slowly lowered her gittern case. “I think he’s talking about my race,” she said. “Aos si. It’s another name for sidhe, the fair folk.”

Ike nodded his understanding. “Got it. I guess goblins are superstitious about that sort of thing.”

Milly frowned. “That doesn’t explain why there’s a goblin in the wagon, Ike.” There was a hint of irritation in her voice.

Ike rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. We picked up a new party member. Milly, this is Ibril. Ibril, Milly.” He gestured between them. “Now that nobody’s a stranger, let’s all sit down and be friends, hm?”

“Ike?” came Clay’s voice from the front. His tone was worried.

“All good, Clay,” Ike called up. “Just a bit of a jump scare.”

“That’s not it, Ike,” Clay said. Ike heard the horses whinny as the wagon slowed. “There’s a tree across the road.”

Everyone hopped off the wagon and joined Clay, who was in the road inspecting the tree. It was enormous, more than a meter wide at its base and almost thirty meters tall, completely spanning the road and disappearing into the surrounding woods on both sides.

Clay put his hands on his hips and gave the trunk a noncommittal shove with his boot. “There’s no way we’re moving this,” he said.

Ike rapped against it with a knuckle. “It would take hours to cut through if we had Dusty’s axe. Even then, we’d never get enough space between the pieces to let the wagon pass.”

Clay crossed his arms. “What about that reshaping spell you have? Doesn’t it work on wood?”

Ike nodded but grimaced. “It does, but not this much. Trying to shape this much out of the way would probably take days. The axe would probably end up being faster.”

“That’s not our only problem,” Milly murmured. Her eyes were unfocused, a look Ike recognized when players were looking at game interfaces. “We’re some place called the Beldam Weald. Probably inspired by Grimm’s fairy tales. Witches, trolls,” she paused, looking pointedly at the tree, “trees that move on their own and lead travelers astray.”

“Wait, how can you tell?” Ike asked. He focused on Milly to check her character sheet.

Emily Muse Level 2 Class: Jongleur Race: Aos si Age: 21 Sex: Female Height: 157cm Weight: 52kg Agility: 3 Insight: 6 Mettle: 5 Might: 3 Vigor: 4 Wits: 7 Attack: 1 Health: 6 / 6 Defense: 1 Mana: 10 / 10 Skills Lore 2 Music 2 Glamour 1 Linguistics 1 Sleight of Hand 1 Spells Accompaniment Amplify Sound Minor Calm Minor Courage [https://litrpgbook.com/wp-content/relic-tamer/emily-muse-level-2.jpg]

Ike raised an eyebrow at Milly’s abilities. “Is it this Lore skill?”

Milly nodded. “It lets me see stories about things I’m looking at. The more famous something is, the more I get, but they’re not always accurate.”

Ike gave an approving nod. “Very handy. I’d love to learn it, but now’s not the time. Bottom line is we don’t want to stay here longer than necessary, right?”

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” Clay asked, shielding his eyes as he peered skyward. “On top of everything, we’re going to be getting a nasty storm in a few hours.”

Ike closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I guess the relaxing part of the trip is over. Most of us are on a quest, so we should have expected as much.”

Ibril grumbled. “Scary fairy. Scary woodses. Scary clouds.” He kicked the tree in anger.

“What do we do?” Milly asked, hugging herself beneath her cloak.

Ike crossed his arms and squinted at the tree in contemplation. “We need to split up,” he said finally.

Clay barked out a laugh. “Isn’t it usually a bad idea to split the party?”

“Usually,” Ike said, “but we don’t have a choice. We need to keep the wagon safe, and somebody needs to be here to let Ada and Dusty know what’s up if they log on. At the same time, we need to figure out a way through, which means having a look around. The sooner the better by the sound of it. That is, unless we want to walk the rest of the way.”

“Who goes where?” Milly said apprehensively.

Ike turned to Clay. “Do you mind watching the wagon? You’re the best in a straight fight if this turns out to be a bandit trap or something. Plus, you can keep the horses calm during an attack or a storm.”

“Ike want Ibril to go into woodses?” Ibril said, frowning. “Ibril want to stay safe in wagon.”

Ike shook his head. “We all saw what happened when someone else in the party logged on without warning. I’d rather test out your Treasure Sense. Besides, if things get bad, you can use Retreat to come back and warn the others.”

“What about me?” Milly said. She turned toward the darkening woods. “You want me to go out there.”

Ike went to stand next to her and peered out. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He quirked a playful smile. “I’ve read a few Grimms’ fairy tales. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Milly stared at him in shock. Clay clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Ibril was wrong,” the goblin said. “Ike is one making curses.”