image [https://i.imgur.com/yax5hGF.jpg]

The following day, we passed farmsteads and made it to the Basilborough inn by the late evening. We stayed at the only public accommodations in the village, a small, family-run operation the locals called Denning House.

Glenn’s demeanor noticeably improved. Having left the sticks, he became friendly, animated, walked straighter, and seemed more focused. He engaged with the inn’s other occupants and constantly scanned faces for acquaintances. I overheard him telling stories of our heroics on more than one occasion. Where had this version of Glenn been in Hawkhurst? I liked this one better.

Glenn recommended carts from his guild to haul brewery equipment back to Hawkhurst. We deferred to his expertise after he explained which carts could withstand a trip through the wilderness.

The conversation about wagons piqued Charitybelle’s curiosity. Glenn described heavy-duty models tailored for the journey and spoke at length about weight limits and what distinguished them from standard road models. He answered questions about what made some carts stronger than others.

Glenn sat back in his chair at dinner, holding court with his pint of ale. His sudden likability made me self-conscious about our rustic conditions in Hawkhurst. Had we been the insensitive ones this whole time? If our settlement rubbed visitors the wrong way, maybe we should let it season a little more before opening our doors to traffic.

Oscar made arrangements to meet us in Grayton in a few days. He had other business to conduct in town. He probably wanted to get a jump on Glenn by making Basilborough connections while the rest of us traveled to Grayton. I didn’t voice my suspicions because no one likes a kibitzer.

Glenn chartered a passenger flatboat to the capital, and we found the accommodations posh by any standard. We settled into the cushions and watched the scenery. The calm made me feel uneasy, and I caught myself scanning the riverbanks for signs of trouble. Part of my mind couldn’t wrap itself around the idea of safety. I caught myself sizing everyone up as a potential threat. After months in the wilderness, adjusting to city life would take more than a hot bath and a soft bed.

The cabin seemed to be the cleanest place I’d been since Belden, so I took advantage of the accommodations. I made a copy of the gnoll journal on spare pieces of parchment. It passed the time while the vessel crept upstream and gave me a chance to practice my manuscript creation skills.

Charitybelle, at least, calmed my nerves. She settled against me in the boat and went straight to sleep, her feet in Fabulosa’s lap—content as a cat on an afternoon windowsill.

Fabulosa’s eyes looked hooded and sleepy. “Can you believe you’re back?”

I shook my head. “It’s an adjustment. I keep waiting for an ambush.”

Fabulosa smiled sympathetically. “I think it’s PTSD, believe it or not.” She watched the passing countryside as our flatboat sailed upstream. “I would have never believed it could happen in a game. I felt jumpy when I traveled here a month ago.”

“It seems longer.”

“Yeah. As much as I want to remember things like this, I’m not sure it would be good if I did. I don’t rightly think The Book of Dungeons is the best place to prepare someone for college.”

“College? What’s that?”

Fabulosa smiled at my feigned ignorance.

Landing money for college had been my all-consuming preoccupation back home. The stress from watching my classmates get jobs and acceptance letters seemed like a forgotten dream. I went half out of my mind from worrying about homelessness and supporting myself over the summer. Maybe Crimson’s wake-up protocols included depressurizing from the game. The Book of Dungeons’ survival mindset didn’t suit modern life.

Fabulosa interrupted my reverie. “What’s your proudest moment—from your previous life?”

I shrugged. “None, really. I guess I haven’t lived long enough. Why? What’s yours?”

“After picking strawberries one Saturday morning, my little brothers and I went to the store to pick up my grandpa’s cigarettes—the ones my grandma forbade him to buy. Three boys followed us home, and since we cut through their side of town, I knew they meant trouble. After picking up a heavy stick, I lit one of my grandpa’s cigarettes and waited. I didn’t stare them down because that’s a challenge. I only let them decide if they wanted to fight someone ready to give as good as they got. It scared my brothers, but they learned to hold their ground.”

“What happened?”

Fabulosa shrugged. “Nothing. They turned away, and everyone went home.”

I grunted to show I’d been sufficiently impressed.

“Sometimes you have to show people you’re not afraid.”

The unasked question involved what she would have done if they hadn’t turned away. That kind of bravado had consequences in the neighborhoods where I grew up. Maybe things happened differently in Texas, but what would have happened if one of her brothers had gotten injured?

I awoke before dawn to the sounds of moving cargo. The boat gave a resonant bump whenever something heavy shifted. My interface registered it as early morning, and our flatboat moored to a pier. We’d arrived at our destination—Grayton.

Glenn greeted me with a nod when he saw me awake. While I stretched and Charitybelle woke up, he conversed with a crew member about offseason traffic. As a transportation expert, he always kept abreast of the competition.

After we disembarked from the vessel, Glenn hailed a passing carriage, issued instructions to the driver, and turned to us. “Just wait until you see the Cross Keys. You’ll taste a proper breakfast. After that, I could give you a tour of Grayton, if you like. Trust me, the Cross Keys is one of the best inns in town—and it’s near the big guild houses and merchants.”

While waiting for a carriage, I marked the levels of Grayton’s townspeople. Almost everyone fell into the low single digits, old and young alike. About a quarter of them remained at level 0, on par with Belden’s citizens, none of whom ranged into the double-digits. One guard on the pier reached level 9. She wore emblems on her armor, signifying her status as the person in charge of the docks. As a level 18 adventurer, seeing low levels in the capital city made me feel more accomplished compared to NPCs in The Book of Dungeons.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The carriage’s cover and small windows made it difficult to see anything. I expected a classic fairytale city in the shadow of a hilltop palace or castle. I felt like the family dog peering over the side of a car, but the street scenery showed only a two-story version of what I’d already seen in Belden and Basilborough. The buildings looked fancier and larger, but the route to the Cross Keys instilled no sense of wonder.

Glenn flipped through small sheets of parchment while I studied the view. “It’s early Marketday, but things are still a little quiet. By midday, these streets are busier than a coin counter in The Spring Tournament. It’s the most active time of the week for commoners.”

Charitybelle and Fabulosa showed a newfound interest in their outfits. Fletcher’s new chain mail and Charitybelle’s new helmet kindled an interest in wearing prettier clothes and more decorative armor. After they finished hiring mercenaries and negotiating contracts, they wanted to shop for clothes.

“You two are American princesses at heart. Do you know that?”

Charitybelle stuck out her tongue and burst into giggles.

“We’re going to research those papers we found in the lizard temple, right?”

Fabulosa shrugged. “I’ll show you to the guy with the gnoll guards.”

Glenn showed a sudden interest in the conversation. “That would be Mr. Rowan Crewe. Rowan is one of the most well-traveled merchants in the city. He scours the continent for all sorts of odds and ends. He keeps knavish company but is an invaluable resource if the mood strikes him.”

Fabulosa’s eyes brightened in recollection. “Rowan! Yeah, Rowan—that was his name.”

Glenn’s disdainful expressions reminded me of his demeanor in Hawkhurst. “I have no doubts you’ll be able to handle yourselves with the gnolls, but be careful. They’re not the most trustworthy lot. If it wasn’t for Rowan, I doubt they’d be allowed to freely stomp around our city.”

I sighed—snooty Glenn had returned.

The Cross Keys’s stylish accommodations made me self-conscious about my attire. I removed my ruined robe in Basilborough, and I felt vulnerable without its ability to reset a cooldown. Everyone in the inn wore formal clothes, and it took Glenn’s influence to convince the staff to host us among its regular guests.

Charitybelle’s and Fabulosa’s patchwork armor clashed with the fine decor. Still, we muddled our way through the breakfast without eliciting comments from our fellow diners.

The dining room offered quiet and dignified service, including many unfamiliar dishes. I especially enjoyed drinking from a glass. The glassware felt heavy and opaque, and putting my lips to glass felt more sanitary than wooden cups. We gorged ourselves and asked Glenn about the spices, cheeses, and mushrooms mixed in our meals. We made mental notes to buy some for Hawkhurst. Spice might improve morale.

Glenn wagged a finger at me. “You have a keen eye for management. Dwarves may care only for ale, but if you want happy humans, you’ll need to invest in a proper chef. Mr. Thaddeus Rockthane may be well enough for Hawkhurst’s work staff, but you’ll need a wider palette for regular people.”

I grew tired of holding my tongue and looking forward to cutting Glenn loose for a while. Even his use of Rocky’s full name irritated me, and he’d erased his previous goodwill by referring to the dwarves as our “work staff.”

I felt Charitybelle touch my arm. She spoke loudly and looked into my eyes as if reading my thoughts. “That will be one thing we look into, perhaps not on this visit. Could you recommend someone?” Her reply satisfied Glenn while subtly reminding him of our tight schedule.

Glenn recited a list of names, and the two discussed what to say and what not to say in negotiations with local merchants. As uncharismatic as Glenn could be, we needed him to guide us in soliciting merchants about the trade route.

Iris and Fletcher remained in the carriage when we reached the Cross Keys. Having traveled with us, they looked forward to time together and went elsewhere for food.

Iris agreed to meet us at Rowan Crewe’s magic shop later. Her plans involved recruiting guards for the settlement and mercenaries for her guild. She invited us to join her, if not for our education, for our input about whom to bring to Hawkhurst—but time pressed us enough to make us pass. Charitybelle trusted Iris’s opinion and preferred to grow the settlement organically with people who wanted to come.

Since we only intended to spend a few days in Grayton, we wasted no time preparing for our return to Basilborough. Glenn escorted us to the wainwrights to purchase a wagon and horses.

After Glenn sent messengers to carry news of our arrival, he gave us a brief tour of the wainwright’s guild, who arranged their buildings around a central yard. He boasted about them owning the largest courtyard in the district, pointing out several liveries and workshops.

While waiting for his associates, we bought traveling equipment. We purchased a heavy wagon because the iron mine carts we’d taken from the goblins didn’t suit outdoor use. We also bought harnesses, a team of draft horses, and personal mounts trained for combat.

Glenn had the clout and acumen to arrange for steep discounts. The more he ingratiated us, the better it would be for his guild.

A mild-mannered stallion named Jasper became my horse. His trainer assured me he would grow more comfortable with hilly terrain as I rode him. Jasper received training to be a hunter’s mount, who would remain stationary for a day without a hitch if their rider commanded. Such an animal would appeal to adventurers. I could leave him outside a dungeon without worrying he’d wander off. If a monster chased him away, he’d return to the location to find me.

I took lessons with Jasper so we could get accustomed to each other. Charitybelle and Fabulosa had no problems with their horses, but Jasper and I didn’t connect. I used my cantrip, Animal Empathy, to give me a read on him, but the spell only revealed his thoughts. I needed two-way communication.

In truth, I feared the animal. Jasper looked so big I couldn’t concentrate on basic equestrian lessons, and if I couldn’t learn to control him, it put us both at risk. I felt like I could break my neck at any moment, falling off the beast. I spent most of the afternoon practicing and didn’t feel closer to controlling him.

Our time in Grayton grew short, and wasting it on animal lessons got me no closer to figuring out what the gnoll wanted in the lizard temple.

My friends faced no such problems. Fabulosa visited dude ranches back in Texas and wasn’t afraid of horses. Charitybelle used Animal Communion to steady her steed.

I knew nothing about horses. They seemed more massive than those on Earth, but I couldn’t be sure, having not seen one in real life. As far as I knew, no mustangs roamed the Jersey Shore.

I could only keep up by spending one of my three power points on Animal Communion. Unlike Mineral Communion, it allowed me to provide specific instructions to my mount, and I could make friends without spooking him or worrying that he might bolt in the face of a monster. Animal Communion unlocked Familiar.

Jasper concerned himself with the equipment hanging from me, so I showed him it wasn’t dangerous. Learning that the big animal felt so skittish about my belongings surprised me. He feared the Dark Room belt around my waist to be a snake, and it took much cajoling and showing to prove it wasn’t.

Spending a point on Animal Communion might have been foolish, but the spell allowed me to rank up my nature magic skill while I rode. It represented my weakest magic school—plus, the mental bond with Jasper meant for safer riding.

We arranged for a couple of hostlers to mind the horses we expected to receive. Glenn’s suggestion to move to Hawkhurst sounded more like an order, but the stable hands didn’t care. Leaving his employ to set up their own shop elsewhere generated more enthusiasm than he hoped to see, but he suffered their celebrations with pursed-lipped silence. Their commercial independence would become an agreement Glenn and Charitybelle would complete later.

I tuned the conversation out when they negotiated drayage fees and ferry charges. The topics bore as little appeal as Greenie’s logistics meetings, where I agreed to whatever he suggested to end the conversation.

When Charitybelle noticed my interest waning, she hinted that Fabulosa and I should visit Rowan Crewes’s magic shop. She didn’t need to ask twice, and I pecked her on the cheek before leaving.