9. MINT SAUCE

Nanoc stood up, swaying. His body felt it had been sat on by a giant, but his spirit soared. They had won. Despite all the odds, despite being entirely out-powered, they had somehow beaten Mary’s lamb.

"We did it!" he said. “We killed the beast and freed the region! Let’s get out of here”.

“Wait! We need to search for treasure before we go!” Rotcel ‘Loc said. Quite a lot of her hero training had been dedicated to the importance of treasure and how to find it. It went against her every instinct to finish a quest without stealing everything in sight.

“What treasure?” Dren asked, looking at the collapsed barn. “All I can see is rusty tools and old wood.”

“And we wouldn’t want to steal from Mary,” Nanoc added. “Unless we find something really good, anyway.”

“So… you don’t want to look for treasure?” Rotcel ‘Loc asked, shocked.

“Did you know, I think the treasure might be metaphorical?” Dren suggested.

“Like, the real treasure was the people we punched along the way?” Nanoc suggested, nodding.

“Exactly. Surely our success was its own reward. Nanoc had a good fight, and I learned a great deal. Is that not enough?”

Rotcel ‘Loc shook her head.

“Absolutely not! I’m not interested in some quiet feeling of accomplishment, I want my treasure! I dropped that crown in there, and I’m going to get it back!”

She walked back towards the barn, which was now more ruin than building.

“You’d really go back in there just for a crown?” Dren asked, amazed.

“Yes!”

“Do you know, I dropped a quill in there, do you think you could—”

“No!”

The lizardling left. Nanoc lay back on the grass, watching the clouds overhead. One of them definitely looked like a pie. Another looked like his aunt Mable. A third—

“I’m back,” Rotcel ‘Loc said a few minutes later. “And look what I found!”

She held up the barbed wire crown she had taken off Mary’s lamb.

“Nice hat,” Nanoc said.

“It’s a crown!”

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Nanoc stood, picked up Mary’s lamb, and slung it across his shoulders. Death had shrunk the animal it back down to its natural form of a small and perfect sheep. It had somehow managed to avoid getting covered in purple goo.

“Do you have to bring that thing?” Rotcel ‘Loc said. “It gives me the creeps.”

“This monster scared Mary and her father,” Nanoc said. “They’ll want the comfort of seeing it dead.”

“Unless it comes alive again,” Dren said cheerfully. “That’s a typical Horror-type thing to do, you know.”

Nanoc dropped the lamb’s body and stepped back from it. He prodded it a few times, but it didn’t move. Any evil spirits inside it were either trapped or biding their time.

“Nah,” Nanoc said. “I’m pretty sure it’s fine.”

They set out for the farm again, walking slowly. Purple goo dripped from their clothes and their hair. Nanoc’s skin was covered in sucker markers from the tentacles, Dren was limping, and Rotcel ‘Loc was walking with her head down, staring at the crown in her hands.

“It’s unique… absolutely unique,” she muttered to herself. “Is it possible? Can I keep it? It’s mine! All mine! Hahahaha!”

She looked up guiltily to see if the others had noticed her treasure-lust, but they were too busy arguing about whether Nanoc’s nan could sue a biologist or not.

“Hey! I just went up a level,” Nanoc said, interrupting his own rant about fruit. “And lots of my skills improved, too, and I even got a new skill called final stand.”

“I’ll need to know all about it,” Dren said. “I’ve never read anything about the Barbarian class before, so this is fascinating. Remind me again, which god or goddess grants you such unusual powers?”

Nanoc frowned, not knowing how to answer. He knew his powers were coming from somewhere, more than likely a god or goddess, but that didn’t mean he was a follower, no, not at all. Many people found comfort and purpose in religion, and that was fine, but Nanoc did not. He considered himself to be antaga-gnostic: he disliked the gods and went out of his way to annoy them.

But he didn’t say this.

“Is it Adventure, perhaps?” Dren suggested.

Adventure was the eleventh-born of the second generation, god of leaving home and trying new things. She had been born from Fear, but had a lot in common with her aunty, Love. Nanoc shook his head.

“I prefer to think of myself as a freelance soul,” he suggested instead. “I’ll accept whichever afterlife comes with the best food.”

That night, as they sat eating dinner with Mary and her grandfather, they recounted all that had happened that day. The old farmer shook his head in admiration.

“Incredible,” he said. “How could we ever hope to repay you? We are not wealthy people—"

“Don’t worry about it,” Nanoc said, reaching for a bread roll. “Just pay us in apples or whatever. Lots of them.”

“But won’t the Guild want money?” Mary asked a little suspiciously. “Lizardling, surely the Guild must be paid?”

Rotcel glanced up guiltily from the crown of wire she was hiding in her lap. The others were all looking at her expectantly.

“What? No, I’m sure it’s fine,” the scout said, too distracted to argue. “Apples, or whatever. Yeah.”

“This really has been a most interesting adventure,” Dren said, scribbling a note in one of his many books. “It’s come a full circle. Let me see now… Mary had a little lamb—"

“With mint sauce,” Mary said with some satisfaction, taking a second serve. “Now tell me, gnome, how is it that you became a barbarian? I would not have thought such a thing were possible.”

“Ah!” Dren said, nodding. “Did you know, that’s a tale worth hearing, yes.”

All eyes turned to Nanoc, who blushed slightly.

“Well, I’ve only been a barbarian for a week,” he admitted. “I hadn’t even heard of the class before then. The careers counselors at my school all told me my only options were accountant, or clerk or classes like that. I heard the Guild of Heroes was hiring and I hoped the work would be more interesting than just shuffling paper, but then I burnt down the Guild Hall in my second week…”