The fish flopped between me and Ralph for the last time before gasping wildly for air, and I all but bolted for Gilbert, disregarding the plumes of gold and silver energy radiating off of Ralph as he levelled up. I baseball skidded on the ground though somewhere in my heart I knew we wouldn’t be scoring any home runs. I turned Gilbert over, gathering him into my arms. His eyes were closed, and blood pooled around his mouth.

“Gilbert? Are you alright?” I said, voice strangled.

He cracked his eyes open, but I could tell it took an Olympic effort.

"I love beef stew…” he said before hacking up more blood but continued on. “…it’s always warm and comforting…" he sputtered some more, spraying it in my face.”

“Shh, don’t talk, we’re going to take you to the temple to get healed up, okay?”

“My brother always took me to the tavern to get a bowl of beef stew every time I…” It’s okay, don’t talk I wanted to say but then h a million sparkles of light exploded out and the weight of a person that should have been in my arms… was just gone. There was the faint sense of something lingering in the air but with the fading of the specs of light, so too did that fade away.

“Wait… what?! Gilbert…” dumb stupid water pooled in my eyes.

“…just an NPC…” a memory of school kids flashed in my mind, before I shook it away.

Then the notifications started piling in, letting me know I’d just lost 15 disposition with all the nearby mercenaries.

“Yeah… I guess I would be peeved if my mercenary buddy kicked it too.”

There isn’t even a body bury…

A skill crystal hovered in the air and his loot bag lay on the ground…

Well… it would be a waste to leave them.

Skill Crystal [Dagger]

Iron Ore

Bird Feather

“Heh… iron ore for the Iron City, matches– matched his background.”

I withdraw the items and gently placed the feather in my backpack but kept the iron ore firmly in my grasp, as the loot bag too dissipated from existence.

“I think maybe we should call it there.”

In the corner of my eye I spotted movement. Swords, daggers and a staff rained down on the first line of fish.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“Wait, is that?”

The apparent leader was a big green guy, sporting a round straw rice farmer hat and was hacking the fish with a katana. It was the green lug and the other gold mercenaries.

“They’re— huh?! They’re fighting the fish!”

Crap, that was unexpected, hass someone else hired them? Is there another player, I mean human, I mean, goddamit! Earthing! What an odd term to use… Anyway, does that mean me and Catherine aren’t alone? Or is it Catherine?

But there was no one else over there, not that I could tell at least, just the NPC mercenaries.

Strange…

Well… I guess there’s no harm, wait no, if they start taking out the fish, they’re essentially eating up the easy, well relatively… easy experience… but…

I look down at the iron ore in my vice like grip, my hand white, and only then realised how hard I had been holding it.

I could give up this dumb little quest of mine to train up mercenaries, just so I could make a little money at the adventurer’s guild, but then Gilbert’s sacrifice will have meant nothing.

“Fuck that…”

I threw the iron ore straight at the next fish.

  

‘Da-da-da, duh-duh, dat-dat-duh’

“Har— har— har—” Sweat dripped down my face and back. “Okay—no more—"

Kiting was easy in game, but when you had to actually use your own two legs to run, there was only so much you could do.

We had kited and killed around 50 fish now.

It was possible to see basic info for mercenaries under my employ, but specifics seemed to be hidden and when I tried I was greeted with that unhelpful system message telling me I don’t have the skill to check, but that doesn’t stop one from asking.

“Matilda?”

She turned to face me, and I kind of hoped she would smile, but her expression was blank.

I cleared my throat. “Can you tell me your characteristics?”

She lifted her mace. “I found this mace at the bottom of a well, and I’ve been swinging it ever since.” She said, emphasizing with a swing.

Fascinating…

“Can you tell me what your character details are?” I tried instead.

She scratched her head, “I’m a trainee macer.”

When I first got my class, I was a trainee cook, when my skill points increased I became a beginner cook, before becoming a novice cook.

So, she hasn’t broken through to beginner yet? I guess that makes sense. If they only get skill ups when they hit their opponents, then it’s going to takes years to skill up here. But what about level? I know they all levelled up two or three times, surely there is a way to figure out their levels without memorising when they level up.

I pushed the thought aside for now and looked over at the competition, they were just as tired as us, but I could see they had slain more than twice our numbers.

This was my camp first! Oh? They’re leaving. Should I follow them or not? Best see who is leading them, or at least, see who even has the money to do that.

The mercenaries trod their way through the streets of Dagon, past the main square marketplace and into a stone walled cul-de-sac. There was an ornate iron gate at the front, and beautiful plants and hedges adjacent the stone cut path that led to the large two-storey house that was far too fancy for the average NPC. No, this was the house of a knight or lord of some sort. Two spiral staircases led up to double door entrance, there were balconies on either side of the mansion, and there were windows, actual windows on the building, rather than shutters.

The money grubby mercenaries waltzed in, closing the door behind them.

If this was Catherine, where the hell did she get the loot to hire them…

I followed them into the mansion, and let’s just say the inside was no worse than the outside, and by that I mean it reeked of old French or Victorian esque influences. The couch by the foyer stairs was beautifully carved with intricate details with curved arm-rests, the walls were littered with portraits of dapper Kappas, basically a giant tortoise people. One had a black top hat, cape, vest, pants and shoes with a white sleeved shirt. He had golden frilled pauldrons, a red sash and several medallions across his chest.

I looked around, there was no one else in the foyer but me and my remaining mercenaries, and—.

"Ahem," exclaimed the butler, at least I think he was a butler. He was one of the fish people, and he adorned a butler’s outfit, black bowtie and all.

"Welcome to the home of Lord Mayor Azarok, may I enquire as to the nature of your visit?" he asked in a proper Dutch accent.

That couldn't be who, right? That's crazy, no, Catherine is probably hiding out here somewhere.

"Umm, yeah, I'm just going to have a look around, if that's alright?"

Face palm...

I don't really need to ask permission, do I?

I left my mercenaries in the foyer and systematically searched the rooms. The place was fancy as, a library in one room, a room full of art and sculptures, another with armour and weapon on displays, and a very nice kitchen in the back (sorry Kalm!). There was one locked door, presumably to the basement, that was fine, I didn't really feel like searching in the basement. I found a few of my old mercenary team milling about the rooms, but otherwise the ground floor was clear.

They are probably upstairs, guess I'll go look myself.

I made my way up the staircase and into the second-floor hallway. The floors were marble, and the ceilings were tall, there was an elegant wooden banister that ran along the entire length of the corridor. A grand chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, lit by dozens of candles. The walls were lined with paintings and statues depicting various scenes from history and mythology, the topography of the lands, and even a few sketches of the heavens and stars. Some of the paintings depicted the last battle between Kappas and Finfolk against the sea serpent gods.

Wow! This is amazing.