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Fletcher had seen Fabulosa and me talking and approached us, letting her explain the danger of encountering Winterbyte on the river.

Fletcher nodded in agreement while she spoke. He seemed unusually enthusiastic about the suggestion.

I didn’t know what to call it. “Are you sure you can pull off this—”

Fletcher finished my sentence. “Fake mutiny?”

“Yeah. I tried to pull a fast one over the gnolls in Tully’s bar, but Ruk sniffed it out.”

Fletcher raised an eyebrow. “And may I ask, what is your acting rank?”

“Ugh. I don’t have the skill. I guess I’m rank zero.”

Fletcher grew more animated. “Exactly. I’m a rank 18 thespian. I memorized the part in a fortnight to play Don Marco in our troop’s production of The Merriest Summer.”

Even though I’d never heard of it, I made a face to show it impressed me. “Do you think you can convince a group of gnolls that you drove us off the ship?”

Fletcher’s expression darkened. “And after you and Fabulosa kept the Underworks plunder for yourselves, why wouldn’t I?”

I couldn’t fathom what Fletcher meant. Aside from experience, the orange core, and the weapons we found on Fatberg, the dungeon yielded little loot. Besides, he recently received a splendid new suit of armor from the arc weaver.

When Fletcher relaxed his face, I realized he’d been pulling my leg. He basked in his performance. “You see? I can play the knave when need be.”

I nervously chuckled and pointed at him. “Okay, that was good. But you can fool a gnoll?”

Fletcher shook his fist skyward. “It will be the role of a lifetime!”

“Well, if you convinced Fab, you’ve got my confidence.” I promoted Fletcher to lieutenant and Lloyd to governor.

Lloyd’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis no small matter to turn the helm. But I’ll do my best to steer Hawkhurst clear of hazards.”

Fletcher shook his head disapprovingly at his father’s display. “And you call me the dramatic one. Father will promote you back when you return home. Good luck, citizens, and happy hunting.”

Fabulosa stood and stretched. “Then it’s gnoll season. Hopefully, she’ll be in Darton Rock. We’ll see you back home.”

Fletcher placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll make it there a few days or so after us. How much water do you have?”

I snorted and gestured to my damp cassock. “I’m waterlogged. The void bag has about a month’s worth of waterskins, if you mean drinkable water. Why?”

Fletcher pointed east. “Savarah is nothing but dunes and monsters. No one settles along the river. Aside from its barren soil, it’s wild country.”

It made sense to travel through Savarah. After tasting double damage, I didn’t particularly want to face Winterbyte outside a foreign city, at least not without acclimating to normal damage. In a best-case scenario, we’d fight her in Darton Rock, refreshed and rid of this stench debuff. If we couldn’t fight on foreign soil, we shouldn’t underestimate her, especially if she hired a troupe of gnolls to help. Losing ourselves in the wilderness made sense.

I gave Fletcher enough gold to care for the refugees’ needs in Belden and Basilborough. We bid farewells, jumped in the river, and swam to the eastern bank.

We leaped onto dry land and climbed a hilltop to assess the terrain. Fletcher wasn’t exaggerating about Savarah being desolate. Aside from cattails and weeds growing along the river, very little vegetation took root. Fabulosa tested Tangling Roots in the sand, and the arid conditions produced the desired effects.

Surprisingly, the desert wasn’t hot. I’d always associated stretches of sand with high temperatures, but Savarah enjoyed only a warm climate despite the sun.

I watched the flatboat disappear and regarded the sun, Phaos, hanging in the sky. My wet robe got heavy again after our swim ashore. “Do you feel like walking?”

Fabulosa, reading my mind, shook her head. “No way, I’m pooped. Let’s travel in the evening.”

I unwrapped the Dark Room rope and tossed it in the air. “That’s the only good thing about traveling on land. We can sleep in comfort whenever we want.”

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I followed Fabulosa up the line. Climbing into the Dark Room with a woman as gorgeous as Fabulosa would feel weird if it weren’t for my loyalty to Charitybelle. We harbored no romantic feelings, so being close wasn’t an issue. We removed our gear and changed into dry undergarments. I tried to summon Beaker, but the spell failed inside the Dark Room.

“I keep forgetting we can’t cast spells in here.”

“What are you trying to cast?”

“I tried to summon Beaker. I feel guilty keeping him unsummoned for so long, but he doesn’t seem to mind.”

Fabulosa groaned. “That city food spoiled me. Do you want to cook some meat before our siesta?”

“Let’s start a fire, eat, and then turn in.”

Beaker screamed a loud greeting, and we took turns ruffling his chest feathers.

Fabulosa made kissing sounds and touched the griffon’s beak to her lips. “I’m just jealous you get to cuddle with Beaker. I bet he’s a nice little heater in Hawkhurst.”

We cooked some albino fisher meat, but Beaker happily ate it raw. I didn’t know how summoning affected Beaker’s sleep or feeding cycle. Growing griffons ate all the time, so irregular mealtimes didn’t bother him.

I woke up in the early evening disoriented but refreshed. Only my hunger drove me from my covers.

Fabulosa wasn’t in her bunk, and the smell of burned wood and cooking meat drifted into the Dark Room opening. It made a pleasant alarm clock.

“Good morning.” Fabulosa greeted me with a sing-song voice as I climbed down the rope. “Did your cooldowns reset? I’m good to go after I rustle up some vittles.”

I stretched before sitting down. “Good evening! My cooldowns are ready, and my robe is dry. Savarah isn’t so bad. What’s for breakfast?”

“I cooked some of Rocky’s worm brats and tossed in chopped potatoes and carrots.”

“Mmm. It already smells cooked. I didn’t know we had carrots.”

She smiled at my hint but rolled the brats in the skillet. “I picked them up from a stand in Arlington.”

I summoned Beaker. My Familiar ate from an assortment of food I placed in a bowl for him. By the time he picked through the seeds, berries, and bits of bread, Fabulosa had finished cooking breakfast.

While we ate, a soft, pumping sound from behind distracted us. Beaker had plopped onto the ground from a nearby rock. Even though his wings were strong enough to soften his landing, I scolded him. “You’re going to break something one day, you turkey!”

“That’s what you get for leaving him unattended.”

“He was right behind me.”

Beaker preened indignantly and waddled over to Fabulosa, who cooed and ruffled his chest feathers. “Oh, he’s going to be a big boy soon! Aren’t you, hon?”

Beaker clucked to her as if he agreed.

I telepathically messaged Beaker. “Did you understand what she said?”

My Familiar gave a familiar reply. “Fabulosa is here. I like Fabulosa!”

“Hmm. That’s what I thought.”

The griffon eyeballed the food cooking on the skillet.

“Be careful. That fire is hot! It will burn you. Stay away.” I pulled out a piece of raw worm meat for him—his favorite food. I telepathically asked for his preference. “Cooked or uncooked?”

“Food now!”

I extended the flesh to him, and he gingerly took it in his beak. He used his front talons to tear it into swallow-sized pieces.

After our meal, we packed and began our eastward trek through the desert. I carried Beaker on my back for only ten minutes. He weighed too much for either of us, so I unsummoned him. He looked fragile, and I didn’t want to risk hurting him if something attacked. Desert monsters were ambush predators.

We had more than a day left on our debuff. Neither of us had been to Darton Rock, and our interface map did not show where to go. We moved east, according to Fletcher’s advice. Our heading ensured our foul scent assailed monsters long before we reached them. I didn’t think we’d have trouble seeing the town because our visibility stretched for miles.

Desert monsters sparsely occupied Savarah’s dunes. We fought a couple of low-level scorpions, but most monsters avoided us. A large pack of gigglers offered a challenge, but they kept their distance and weren’t worth pursuing.

The trip to Darton Rock stretched about 80 miles, and we traveled 5 hours at a time twice a day—in the morning and evening. We took a four-hour break in the afternoon to avoid Exhaustion from the withering pace. After associating the south with temperate climates, it warmed up the further inland we traveled.

The game counted Arlington’s water basins as baths, so 48 hours later, the Unbelievable Stench finally wore off.

Fabulosa pointed to a level 6 saltwyrm scuttling off our path. “Can you imagine having this for a starting zone? We would have made it to level 10 in a month.”

“At least. I bet these monsters wouldn’t run away if we were lower level.”

“I wonder if anyone started their game in the big cities. It seems so unfair. Can you imagine what the Arlington library must be like?”

I groaned. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

By dividing our exertions into two 5-hour walks, I hoped it would have made leisurely traveling, but the growing dunes made progress painful. Loose sand undermined our footing. Strange leg muscles tried to compensate for the imbalance, but when they grew sore, walking became difficult.

Every once in a while, we’d come across a hard-packed stretch of land. The solid ground made walking easier. “I don’t know what this is, but I wish the entire desert were like this.”

Fabulosa stomped her foot. “It’s called a wash. When rain falls in the desert, it usually falls too fast to be absorbed by the ground, so flash floods wipe the topsoil.”

The loose high ground made walking difficult. We couldn’t avoid traveling over it unless we wanted to change direction.

As we trudged forward, I checked my character sheet. My light magic rank had finally crept to 20. Since my Heavenly Favor increased my stats by 1 every five ranks in light magic, I needed one less intelligence point to imbue my relic-destroying rune. I’d raised my intelligence to 31. With a 100-point mana potion, I could increase my pool to 380. I only need to gain 5 more intelligence from leveling and magic gear.

A wide trench in the sand interrupted my thoughts. I slid down the dune and walked across it. “It’s a riverbed!”

Fabulosa shook her head. “It’s another wash.”

“I don’t care what it’s called—as long as it’s hard ground. Do you want to take this for a while?”

Fabulosa shrugged.

The reprieve on solid ground felt great. We followed the hard ground until we saw strange rock formations protruding from a distant dune. The shapes lay to the north, so we braved the shifting sand to investigate. When we drew near, we realized the rocks formed a pair of statues smoothed by the wind—almost losing their form. The shapes were humanoid, but neither had heads.