image [https://i.imgur.com/swIQTAp.jpg]
Our perfunctory breakfast conversation reminded me of hospital waiting rooms. When I was a boy, my relatives hadn’t yet given up on my mom’s relapses, accidents, and overdoses. They kept up appearances and did their time, pretending my mom’s problematic behavior wasn’t the reason for the gathering. Yet no one discussed what to do with me—as if breaching the subject might draw them into involvement. They focused on their phones or electronic gadgets and discussed sports, the weather, and upcoming holidays. My uncle worked on sudoku puzzles. Brief questions and answers prevailed.
The three of us spoke similarly, lost in our thoughts, taking baby steps until normalcy established itself. Neither of us could look Fabulosa in the eye, though my guilt over the others ebbed.
My restless sleep somewhat cleared my head. The battle royale only offered friendly competition to most players, and their knockouts weren’t significant life-changing events. Losing The Great RPG Contest wasn’t a big deal to RIP, ArtGirl, and PinkFox. Besides, my friends weren’t dead. They awaited us in Southern California and might appear at our bedside upon our revival.
Mistakes shouldn’t paralyze us. My best course of action involved giving Fabulosa space. Staring at the floor and brooding over events wasn’t helpful, and I’d had enough turmoil in my childhood to last a lifetime. If plunging into the wilderness remained our plan, I had loose ends to tie.
Checking the contest interface grounded me. The interface tracked 50 contestants left in the game. Knockouts included Tardee, Falconeer, Jimbozo, RIP, ArtGirl, and PinkFox.
I didn’t train over the next few days but returned our training weapons to the academy. I thanked the faculty for their guidance and purchased a spear when I returned the boffer I’d used against the Hit Squad.
The staff invited me to stay and join the town’s officer training, but I declined. Leadership didn’t interest me, and I wanted to explore Miros before settling down.
Whether Charitybelle and Fabulosa still wanted to build a monster-hunting lodge seemed unclear. Did we even have enough to make it in the wilderness? No one asserted themselves as we puttered around the inn, so we fell into our default plan—heading east toward the contient’s center and drifting toward whatever direction fortune decreed.
A week later, I gave my goodbyes to Mr. Fergus and told him about our plans.
“I’m sorry to see you end your studies. You had the making for a great scholar.”
Thoughts of winning the contest resurfaced. “Hopefully, it’s only a deviation. After I earn some money, I’ll continue at a college closer to my hometown.”
Mr. Fergus raised an eyebrow and smiled, showing appreciation for my intentions—even if he didn’t understand them. “I’m glad Belden University could help you prepare. If adventurous diversions can fund your education, perhaps I can help.”
I followed the librarian to his office, which I’d seen only once. It smelled as pungent as ever, reminding me of my first day on campus—after Mr. Fergus and I looked out the library window.
He pulled two scrolls off a shelf. “I’ve never had a student graduate after only one year. Perhaps a few hand-me-downs will suit as gifts. Your research rank should be enough to understand this scroll, which I’ve been preparing since you discovered that book on arcane magic. Read Magic is the only nonmagical scroll that grants power. With it, you’ll be able to acquire this.”
I accepted the second scroll. Lines and gilded letters covered its surface, giving its page a weighty heft. Someone had inked some glyphs in gold—others looked drawn in lead.
“This one is magic. You’ll be able to write scrolls one day, but you’ll need a special stylus.” Mr. Fergus handed me a quill that looked made of chrome steel. “It’s strong and resistant to molten metal, which you’ll use for ink.”
Item
Titanium Stylus
Rarity
Masterwork (green)
Description
Level 1 piercing weapon
Questions assailed my brain. How did I create scrolls? Why did the game classify a pen as a weapon? What magic secrets did the scrolls contain? How long would it take to learn Read Magic?
“Are scrolls the same as runes? It seems like they do the same thing.”
Mr. Fergus shrugged. “I’ve never seen a rune. Magic writing is like casting a spell. One must utter words to empower a scroll. On the other hand, runes emit an effect, whether or not someone is reading them.”
He gestured to the parchment. “This scroll empowers its reader with Mineral Communion, a tier 2 power whose requisite is Mineral Empathy, the spell we spoke of earlier. After someone reads these words, the gilded metal will energize and ignite the parchment. Runes endure, so perhaps they’re more complicated. I’d hoped to give this to an aspiring archaeologist one day, but we are a dying breed.”
“Why is that? It seems like there are plenty of ruins along the northern coast.”
“No one wants to be a taxidermist of dead cultures. Archeology is lonely and dangerous work. There’s little profit in restoring forgotten gods, empires, and ideas.”
He patted my shoulder. “I want you to have this. It will be of use if you’re exploring underground or rocky terrain. The rocks can tell us much. Feel free to sell it, although you’ll likely not fetch a good price. Fools care little about the past.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fergus. I don’t know what to say.”
“And you might as well take that.” He pointed to a thick, 10-foot rope hanging in the far corner of his office. “You’ll find it essential in the wilderness. I employed it in my younger days on digs in the North.”
I pulled the dirty rope off its hook.
Mr. Fergus waved me away. “Take it and be well. See me if you’re in the area. I’ll be around.”
After more thanks and farewells, I left the cluttered office with a pen, two scrolls, and a rope. His wavering voice made me uncomfortable, and I left the library to avoid prolonging the awkward moment.
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I knew saying goodbye wouldn’t be easy, but his reaction unsettled me. It was easier to leave than to be left, and my upcoming adventure somewhat filled the absence of his company.
The mysterious gifts also distracted me. Because they might be valuable, I didn’t monkey with anything in public spaces like the courtyard. The rope intrigued me the most because it glowed after casting Detect Magic.
Item
Dark Room
Rarity
Rare (yellow)
Description
The Dark Room is accessible by climbing its rope, which hangs through a hole into a 10-foot cubed transdimensional room. Pulling the rope inside makes the Dark Room impossible to detect from the outside. Magic native to Miros does not work inside.
I ducked into an empty stall in the university’s livery. With most of the apprentices gone, the barn’s vacancy gave me all the privacy I needed to inspect my new toy. I tossed it experimentally in the air, careful not to throw it against the ceiling. One end snagged on something invisible, and the top half disappeared, leaving the bottom dangling over the livery floor. I yanked on it and felt solid resistance.
Mr. Fergus wouldn’t give me something dangerous, so I climbed. As I reached the top of the rope, my head poked into a transdimensional space—a small room invisible from the outside.
I could still see the livery below from inside the room, and the outside sounds reached my ears. This one-way window possessed incredible potential for spying.
Four bunk beds and two desks surrounded me, but I grew more cognizant of the strange atmosphere that gave everything a dreamlike feeling. Being in another dimension wasn’t a big deal since I’d lived in a virtual world for the past year, but this space felt artificial and disconcerting.
It felt otherworldly. A slight hum resonated in my chest, and an ambient light filled the space. No hard shadows fell upon its interior surfaces, and it muffled sounds like a recording booth.
Two glowing fist-sized rocks caught my attention.
Item
Glow Stone
Rarity
Basic (gray)
Description
Level 5 light source
The rocks provided as much light as a candle. They weren’t hot, and my cantrip fizzled when I tried to see if they glowed from Detect Magic. My interface showed all my spells in gray—hinting that I couldn’t cast them. It seemed magic didn’t work in the Dark Room—but if that were true, these luminous rocks glowed naturally.
The desk drawers stored water skins, sheets of parchments, and a dozen more glowing rocks. I spotted a neat pile of cooking gear, including copper bowls and utensils. Four pickaxes, two felling axes, a sharpening stone, eight chisels, and six shovels rested in one corner. A bag lay on the bedding of one bunk. I inspected it, but no description appeared. It looked magical, so perhaps magic items didn’t work in the Dark Room’s extra-dimensional space.
Mr. Fergus gave me more than a portable campsite—the Dark Room worked like the perfect safe house.
When I slid back down, the rope remained hanging in space. I played with the line, hoping to dislodge it somehow, and discovered it unhooked from its magical anchor with a curt shake. Gravity brought its length to the floor. It could serve as a belt by wrapping it around my waist. Before leaving Belden, I’d fashion a buckle or clasp at the smithy.
Outside the Dark Room, the bag bore a description.
Item
Void Bag
Rarity
Rare (yellow)
Description
This void bag stores 1024 slots of weightless inventory. The bag’s opening is 2 yards in circumference, limiting the size of what can fit inside. Time does not exist in the bag, so food remains preserved. Living creatures cannot go into the void bag.
The void bag held herbs, spices, and eight bags of salt. Salt came from mines on the northeastern coast, making it a valuable commodity in Belden.
I returned to the inn with buoyed spirits.
Fabulosa met my eyes after we hugged. She missed RIP and our friends, but she would be okay.
I told Fabulosa and Charitybelle about the Dark Room and how it could shelter us from danger in the wilderness. They explored it, and I showed them the void bag. These gifts gave us everything we needed to embark on an adventure.
We reached the same conclusion—our tenure in Belden had ended. It made sense to move on.
Over the days, the ladies and I divided the loot from our assailants. Between us, we had only 33 silver pieces of coin. Our vanquished enemies carried almost no money, which surprised me, considering their high level. We kept leftovers in the communal kitty. The amount wouldn’t go far in the bigger cities, so exploring Grayton or Arlington made little sense.
Charitybelle took Tardee’s ornate plate mail, while Fabulosa took Falconeer’s leathers and short swords. We found an empty vial in Falconeer’s belongings, so we surmised he’d quaffed an agility potion before our battle—which explained why he hadn’t taken a healing potion. He didn’t think he’d need one.
I carried Tardee’s old short sword and cudgel in my belt. I knew enough about leatherworking to avoid spending money on armor. As a hunter, I could make anything I needed in the field.
I spent the next day at the university smithy, working on a belt buckle and weapon clasps. My level 5 status excluded me from student privileges, but the semester hadn’t started, so no one shooed me away.
When fashioning a clasp for my Dark Room rope, the crafting interface allowed me to upgrade the item. I used the opportunity to infuse a white core we’d picked off a monster. It added +2 armor to the piece, a negligible improvement, but it familiarized me with using cores on newly created items.
Create Item
Buckle
Description
Cinches rope around your waist.
Materials
0.1 ingot of iron
Build Estimate
3.5 hours
Common (white) Core Bonus
Beast Bonus +2 armor
The interface asked if I wanted to confirm using the core we’d taken from a beast, finalizing its creation. The core bonus slot allowed me to change to other cores, but all our white cores gave the same +2 armor perk. Cleaning up after myself, I concluded my brief stint as a blacksmith.
I hoped crafting would not be necessary for my game. The buckle wasn’t exceptionally well-designed, and I stopped caring once it met the minimum requirements of being a buckle. It wasn’t the attitude of an artisan.
While I worked in the smithy, the ladies went into town and arranged a river trip. We had two choices. We could ferry 25 miles northeast and hop off at Basilborough or take a fork to the southeast to Darton Rock. Darton Rock, a provincial mining community, wasn’t worth visiting, so we opted for Basilborough. Miros’s winter climate never dropped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit, so we expected a pleasant journey.
We planned to jump ship before reaching Basilborough to avoid other players. It wouldn’t do to advertise our destination to local busybodies.
Besides arranging passage on a riverboat, the girls took the void bag and our 33 silver pieces to the village market. As spoiled Americans, we valued creature comforts and stretched our money as far as possible. Fabulosa had plenty of experience sleeping in the wilderness and knew what to buy. We had tons of inventory space between the Dark Room and the void bag.
They returned with several 50-foot lengths of rope, knives, blankets, machetes, twine, baskets, flint, oil, water, ale, and rolls of canvas. Charitybelle bought farming seeds for grains and vegetables, stopping short of bringing chickens or anything alive. Inventory storage preserved meat, but doing so discredited us as hunters. We stored our settlement gear in the Dark Room and our food in the void bag. I tried to buy a used anvil from the university smithy, but the blacksmith wanted 25 silver pieces, so I passed.
After a day of blacksmithing and packing supplies, I drew a hot bath, likely the last I would have for a while. I planned to say goodbye to Mother Marteen in the morning and wanted to be clean. It seemed the least I could do for spilling blood in her temple.
We ate dinner in subdued conversation that evening. It didn’t help that we dined at the pub, but everything there reminded us of our fallen friends. We bid farewell to the barkeep, Bomba, and left for the inn, where we’d spend one last night in Belden.