image [https://i.imgur.com/pavsiqN.jpg]
Hawkhurst’s swimming mandate proved to be a big hit for the refugees. Even to those standing at the water’s edge, the potency of the swimming powers became clear.
Lloyd encouraged everyone to jump in. “Ye see? She’s a lazy swim. Warm and gentle, like yer own mother putting ye to bed.” He winked at the children, who looked to their parents for approval.
The kids squealed with delight after they jumped in. They darted back and forth in the clean, rolling water. A few leaped out and back onto shore, utilizing another Amphibious bonus. The bobbing heads on the surface reminded me of Hawkhurst’s neighboring otter family.
I gathered my glow stones along the ledge and brought up the tail. With the children darting around in the water, Fletcher offered a line for everyone to hold. It made it easier to keep track of one another in the darkness. The kids wanted to play with their newfound swimming abilities, but the adults kept them in the fold.
We swam against the channel’s current, whose quiet, dark waters flowed beneath the city’s depths.
I could hear Lloyd’s encouragement from the end of the rope. He acted heady, knowing that the engineers hadn’t yet discovered his sabotage to the fountains in the Two Towers district.
“Ye see, the Cap’n and the L.T. will take care of ye. You’ll be drydocked and ship-shape in no time. And who knows, maybe one last dunk in the drink will rinse off their stink!” He cackled at this, and it pleased me to hear others joining him.
In our case, the light at the end of the tunnel provided our source of concern. The climax to our escape involved finding out if Fletcher could hold the flatboat. The winds picked up in the day, and our upstream captain would want to take advantage of it.
True to Lloyd’s word, the flatboat captain proved himself to be a good canal rat. An anchored flatboat awaited us at the end of the tunnel. The peaceful soundscape of luffing sails and crying seagulls changed to splashes and shrieks of excitement as Hawkhurst citizens leaped from the water directly onto the flatboat’s deck. The citizens of Hawkhurst were an Amphibious breed.
Fabulosa counted refugees as they exploded out of the water. “Patch, I got 63 new pairs of pruned fingertips.” She smiled at a little girl pleading with her mother to return to the water.
I became the last person aboard, and when I verified Fabulosa’s count, we weighed anchor and sailed.
Lloyd gestured to the front of the boat. “We’ll sail on a run, so the bow is downwind.” Everyone with Unbelievable Stench took the hint and moved downwind, and everyone on the crowded deck gave us a wide berth.
The captain provided blankets and hot bowls of stew. I declined the food but took the covering and found a quiet place on the bow to sleep.
After a while, the flatboat’s beam swung back and forth every few minutes as it tacked upstream. The noisy operation kept me awake, but the pink sun had burned off the morning chill and dried the dew on the deck. Even in a damp robe, I felt warm. I drifted in and out of consciousness, barely out of Arlington, when I resigned myself to giving up on eight hours of sleep. With so many people on board, finding a restful place wasn’t possible. The ravenous passengers cleaned out the galley, so I dipped into my inventory rations.
It’s been six days since we left Hawkhurst. I checked out the town’s construction status.
Building Status
Barracks
Remaining Build Time
Efficiency
Workers
16.4 days
81 percent
25
I admired the 81 percent efficiency. 81 percent! And the town reached the figure without the governor or lieutenant governor present, nor had someone artificially inflated it with celebrations and alcohol. Work on the barracks meant they had completed the shrine.
We could now use Forren’s favor for Glowing Coals and rushing construction. The shrine also bumped our culture by 5 percent, explaining our improved building efficiency.
I just wished Charitybelle could be here to see all this. I caught myself tightening my jaw at the prospect of avenging her. If I wounded Winterbyte with my Divine Bow, we could track her. I wondered what it would be like to encounter her in Belden or Basilborough. Would I risk Mr. Fergus or Mother Marteen over revenge if Winterbyte somehow involved them? Did I have the moral high ground to behave like a madman? Endangering NPCs wasn’t a dilemma for anyone watching the game. Outside observers might easily see them as bots and scoff at the dilemma.
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But it wasn’t so simple for someone inside The Book of Dungeons. The game felt so real, and actions had consequences, and I had no plans to leave Miros soon.
I suppressed my emotions and tried to relax, but the exercise felt futile. I watched the countryside pass by while our flatboat tacked upstream, hoping it would lull me into a calmer state. Something on this trip had hit a nerve. Visiting Lloyd’s old stomping ground and fighting Fatberg in the skating park stirred childhood memories.
Fabulosa watched me. When I caught her eye, she came over. Aside from the wind blowing at her perfect mane of hair, she looked haggard. Her fancy clothes hadn’t weathered the dungeon well. “Have you slept?”
Fabulosa tiredly shook her head and sat down. “No. How are you?”
By Fabulosa’s tone, I could tell she’d caught me talking to myself. I did that when I got lost in thought. I wasn’t sure how to answer. My girlfriend sacrificed her game to save Fabulosa, which wasn’t a pleasant memory. She looked concerned, and I felt too tired to be evasive.
“Do you know when teenagers cut themselves?”
Fabulosa’s brow furrowed, and she nodded. “A little. Our health teacher taught us it had something to do with depression. Why are you thinking about that?”
“When we fought Fatberg—this is the stupidest thing—the room’s shape reminded me of a skatepark at eleven years old. I used to grind all around town. I wondered if being a daredevil became my version of cutting—putting myself in dangerous situations.”
“All boys do that—”
I cut her off. “No, I went way off the scale. I wasn’t learning tricks and moves. I did it for the rashes and bruises. Amazingly, I didn’t crack my skull open. I did other things, too. I keyed cars and hung out with older kids who beat up junkies and homeless people.”
I rarely spoke about my past to Charitybelle. For some reason, I found this easy to admit to Fabulosa. She seemed more of a tomboy and could understand why anyone would want to be a daredevil. As I expected, she didn’t act uncomfortable, so I continued.
“Lloyd’s song brought me back to when I was out of control. I didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. And I wanted to know what it was like to be bad.”
Fabulosa looked down and nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Movie villains are popular. What’s the phrase? They partake in the forbidden fruit?”
“Yeah. I bailed after a parking attendant caught us breaking into a van one night. My friends beat him up pretty bad. I watched the whole thing and felt so sick about it afterward. I even got hauled in by the police. Have you ever heard of how cops try to scare kids straight? It’s just child psychology—but it worked. After one visit to the jail, I buried myself in the public library. I went from being an antisocial vandal to an antisocial recluse.”
Fabulosa grunted. “I reckon there’s potential bad in all of us.”
“Innocence isn’t a virtue. And all that sentimental stuff about children being sweet and wholesome is nonsense. Babies are amoral—someone must teach us not to pull the puppy’s tail. Parents brainwash kids to be good, and it’s necessary for a stable society. But some kids never get that moral compass. Especially if they have bad parents.”
Fabulosa smiled wanly. “You sound like Mother Marteen. Remember her lesson about being on the opposite side of a coin? All that stuff about the difference between good and bad?”
I nodded but sensed the conversation veering away. I wanted to finish my point. “The point is, I want to remember this when I face Winterbyte. She’s as evil as us and playing a good game.”
Fabulosa arched an eyebrow. “Evil as us?”
“Think about all role-playing games. Players typically find a dungeon or a zone and kill creatures minding their own business—and our only motive is greed.”
Fabulosa laughed. “I see what you mean. Quests are just window dressing—we’re there for the loot.”
“Exactly. And killing to steal is as immoral as you get. The funny part is that role-playing gamers get a pass because people liken the fantasy genre to cartoon violence. We don’t get a bad rep because we’re not using guns to kill things.”
Fabulosa stretched her shoulder muscles. “Well, I won’t feel bad for killing Winterbyte. I won’t chat with her if she plants that battlefield standard. I’ve got nothing to say. You can sympathize if you want, but I aim to even the score.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I’ve got her number, too. I just don’t want to think of her as a villain.”
Fabulosa waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever it takes. She’s got payback coming.”
We fell into silence until Fabulosa changed the topic. “Fletch and I have been talking.” She looked around to see if we’d inherited eavesdroppers.
Everyone else found places far away from us, bundled up or stretched out in the sun. Some cuddled while others slept. The wind shifted every time the boat tacked, so I knew our Unbelievable Stench wafted over the deck.
“You and I should get off the boat and leg it home.”
I looked up. “What do you mean?”
Fabulosa lowered her voice again to keep our conversation private. “Winterbyte has resources. And I’m not sure we’re in the best shape to face her now. My cooldowns haven’t reset. There are still 36 hours left on our debuff. Fletch and the dwarves have it, too.”
The debuff increased our chance of missing by 15 percent. The willpower reduction lowers spell resistance. “You want to split the party?”
Fabulosa shrugged. “Winterbyte doesn’t know about the dwarves or Fletcher. This stink might work in our favor. I got to thinking about her sense of smell. If we promote Lloyd and Fletcher to the governor and L.T. positions, they can say we split from Hawkhurst.”
I nodded. “That checks out. They’re father and son.”
“Right. And Winterbyte won’t have any reason to mess with them. She won’t waste her time. She’ll keep her ears up and nose to the ground looking for us. Fletcher can tell them we went to Darton Rock looking for her, which tracks because that’s where she sent her message.”
I’d forgotten Winterbyte had been to Darton Rock. If she took the river to Arlington, every second we spent on this boat increased our chances of running into her. I looked at my cooldowns. Without a full night’s sleep, none of them reset. Despite our ranked-up combat skills, we stood in no condition to fight.
“You’re right. We’re doing nothing here but putting these people in danger.”
“I ain’t worried about Winterbyte and her mangy gnolls. We can lick ‘em with one arm tied behind our back. I’m worried she’ll use these people against us. You know, threaten them to compromise the situation.”
“In that case, we should get off now. The longer we stay, the more our scent is on the boat.”