If the alcohol content in the bottles was as high as it smelled, the Asterians were in for an explosive morning.

I unstoppered the first few bottles, taking in fumes that nearly brought tears to my eyes. If one of the soldiers had come over and said ‘Oh, Ollie, that’s not alcohol, that’s for getting rust off our swords!’, I would’ve believed them without any trouble.

With all the bottles prepared, I arranged my weapons, ready to cast.

The first one was lit with the glowing end of the beam, taking care not to ignite the rest of the arsenal. When the cloth was burning sufficiently, I stepped out from my cover, tossed it at the front cart, and ducked back.

I heard the impact and cackled at the confusion. I wasn’t aiming for people, just their supplies — the things that would truly demoralise them. Again and again, I lit a cocktail, crept out from my trusty shelter and delivered the bottle of fun, then ducked back to cover as another cart went up in flames.

Rampant fire was a great form of camouflage, virtually drawing everyone’s attention away from the culprit behind all their issues.

Unfortunately, the dullard driving the cart was too curious for his own good. After I let loose with the third bottle, he caught on to the fact that it was coming from his cart.

The horn sprang from his belt, and before I could do anything about it, he was blowing it like candles on a birthday cake.

I should’ve taken him out beforehand.

The soldiers’ attention was pulled to me for a single moment, and I knew I had to make my move. I threw a barrage of cocktails, aiming for the carts and the space between myself and the bulk of the soldiers.

“Time’s up, mate!” I yelled at the driver. “Either get down and run, or you’re dead.”

I brandished my spear, shoving him off the seat and taking the reins. I could’ve crossed another defender off the list, but he was unarmed, and I had a more important plan in mind.

Driving a cart was a new experience for me, but I whipped the reins like they do in the movies and forward we went. I pulled the left rein, and my noble steed obeyed. Our only safe direction was out of town, so I pulled and pulled until we were facing away from the soldiers. I ducked my head as stones and arrows flew overhead, hailing the cart and the road.

We were off. We bolted along any street wide enough to take us, provided it wasn’t occupied with soldiers. This far out of town, the Asterians were few and far between, but at some point we’d have to curl back towards Otto’s Pub to offload the goods into The Safe House.

A notification came through.

[You can’t win, Ollie. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.]

It was Claire. I had no time to reply, more concerned with controlling the horse than parlaying with her.

[I know you won’t believe me, but I had to do it. And I still have to. They won’t pay me if we don’t win.]

Pay her?

I seized the reins in one hand, desperately typing out a message whilst ensuring we didn’t crash into a wall.

[Didn’t seem sorry yesterday. Who’s paying?]

[The Asterians, but they won’t pay me unless we win. I need you to give yourself up. For me.]

I couldn’t reply unless I wanted to crash into a ditch. We swerved left, the back wheels of the cart almost slipping and sending us sideways. If we went over, there was no doubt the supplies would topple over and crush me.

We were near Otto’s Pub, I knew that much. I knew the layout well after my time spent on the rooftops, and making my way through the maze was getting easier. It also helped that a lot of the houses were burnt out and hollow, allowing me to see through where front doors should have been, all the way out to the next street.

Unfortunately, it also helped my pursuers. A prolonged patch of flattened houses was all it took for my cover to be blown, confirmed by a chorus of angry shouts and orders.

I had to find Otto’s place quick, and then sort out the Asterians. However that was going to work.

“Oliver!”

I looked around.

“Oliver! Over here!”

A bedraggled young man waved me over, his torn tunic blending in with the dusty wall he stood against. I steered as best I could, taking the cart into the narrow alley. The packages scraped against the sides, and a few things fell off the top as we came to an abrupt halt.

“I’ll unload, you take them somewhere else!”

I looked closer at the man, realising I knew him, just not in this garb.

“Braith? What happened to the uniform?”

“Stowed it. I’m not fighting for the Asterians anymore. I can’t, not with the town like this.”

All at once, I knew where I was.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Marge’s house.

Braith had found Marge, but I hadn’t completed the quest, meaning they were still yet to meet.

“Marge!” I yelled. “Your son is out here! Open the door!”

Hurried feet slapped along the basement floor, and the step-down door flung open.

Quest Complete!

‘The Baker’s Son’

Reward(s)

+1500 EXP

+100 Friendship (Marge)

LEVEL UP! Your new Level is: Level 15!

Attributable Stat Points: (3)

Attributable Skill Tokens: (2)

Access the ‘Stats’ screen to boost your potential!

That was ridiculously easy.

I couldn’t rest on my laurels. The supplies hadn’t made it to Otto’s, but Marge’s basement was the next best thing. Otto’s potion lab might blow at any moment.

Braith and Marge untied the ropes and packed away boxes in a frenzy, leaving me to draw the Asterians away. I ran out, backtracking to where they’d caught sight of me earlier. I made a show of it, taunting them and leaping around. They started to curve round, and knowing they’d see the cart if they came closer, I leapt through the remains of a house, breaking out of the cinders into their street.

Surrounded.

I couldn’t give their archers a chance to take aim, so I rushed into the masses.

[Arc Strike] [Tsunami Strike]

Leaving behind a trail of destruction, I pushed around the group, thrusting and dodging and catching as many hits as I could on my breastplate. I felt a sting on my thigh, and another on my ankle, but at Level 15, my character’s base stats were getting reasonably beefy. I could take a stray cut.

[Shield Wall]

The ability dispersed the crowd, but they were back in moments, pressing forward on their singular target.

It was time.

I yanked the vial from my pocket, pulling out the cork and downing it in one go. The taste was so awful that I almost gagged it all back up.

That’d have to go in the notes for Otto.

I could feel the rejuvenation. It wasn’t physical — using my abilities didn’t tire me out — but mentally I could just feel that if I yelled out ‘Tsunami Strike!’ and jabbed a soldier in their chest, the energy would burst forth and take out my foes.

And so I did just that.

“[Tsunami Strike!]”

Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

[Shield Wall]

I’d discovered a neat combo, but unless the Asterians would agree to wait twenty-five minutes for [Tsunami Strike] to cool down, I wouldn’t get to show it off again. The bulk of the damage was done, and I was able to take on individual fights as the crowd dispersed or fell to the dust, defeated.

LEVEL UP! Your new Level is: Level 16!

Attributable Stat Points: (5)

Attributable Skill Tokens: (2)

Access the ‘Stats’ screen to boost your potential!

I’d forgotten how amazing it felt to see my level rise. The dopamine from distributing Stat Points was pretty good, but it didn’t beat seeing my actual level inch closer and closer to 20. If there was one bright side to the mass slaughter of the Asterian Army, that was it. I could’ve done without the guilt of where the EXP came from, but I was steadily getting over it.

I was helped by the fact that humans weren’t impressing me very much lately. One look at my Message Requests was testament to that.

And Claire. Goddamnit.

I’d broken the Asterian force, but if it weren’t for Otto’s potion, the outcome of the fight would have been drastically different. The cooldown-reduction worked perfectly, aside from the vulgar taste.

Perhaps there’s some sugar in the captured delivery. Could sprinkle some of that in Otto’s solutions.

On top of slurping down potions, I could attain some small buffs from normal food and drink. I’d had that awful ale on my first day here — it felt like months ago — and it had buffed my Strength at the expense of Restoration. If someone sold me a flask, I could carry it around and take a swig whenever I needed a pick-me-up.

I rushed back to Marge’s, praying to the B&B deities that I didn’t find her and Braith stuffed inside the bread oven for their crimes. If only I’d had one other ally in this battle, just one, this mission could have been immeasurably easier.

Unfortunately, all my friends were racking up levels a million miles away. Interestingly enough, the word ‘friend’ still brought up a picture of our group of four. Subconsciously, I must’ve still had some faith for Joey, though it was fading fast.

“Oliver! We heard all sorts of noises, thought there was no way you’d make it!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Braith.”

Marge tottered out, latching onto her son with a grin across her face that could’ve lit up Bill’s barn.

“How could I ever thank you, Ollie! You found my boy!”

“I really didn’t do anything…”

“You must always come by and get bread in the mornings; I’ll bake it fresh for you!”

I couldn’t deny her, though a full loaf each day sounded excessive.

“Thank you, Marge. The people will be happy to see you out in the plaza again.”

“Oh yes! I’ll be there every second day. Braith has decided to stay and help me out.”

I got the sense that this quest was not supposed to be completed while the town was in peril. At this moment, the plaza was no more than a collection of rubble, and Marge’s house had more holes than one of her sourdough loaves.

Still, I’d accept the generosity. I’d be here for a long time yet, and it didn’t hurt to have a friend with an oven and a well-hidden basement.

“So, Braith, is there anything you can tell me about the Asterian Army? I’m going in blind, and I'd rather not.”

“What do you want to know?”

We stood in the shadows as we spoke, savouring the aromas leaking out from Marge’s bakery.

“Anything really, but I suppose if there’s anyone I should avoid, I’d like to know. Are most soldiers as…talented as you? Just basic training and nothing more?”

“Most of us, yes.”

“Most of them,” Marge interjected.

“Yes, most of them. The higher-ranked the soldier, the better their training. I was just a foot-solider, but I reported to a Captain, then he had a Commander, the Commander reports to a Sentinel, then Sentinel to General. The King obviously outranks them all, but I doubt he’d even know Bill’s Yard exists — he’s a busy man.”

I mulled it over. If the [Mage] from yesterday was a Captain, it was probably wise to be careful around anyone from Commander and up. The Yard was small enough that I didn’t expect a ‘Sentinel’ to waste their time here, but it didn’t hurt to be safe.

“Anyone else? There’s no…like, King’s Guard or anything?”

“There’s the Seven Stakes, but if they wanted you dead, you’d already be in a ditch. Or they’d just blow up the whole place. Either way, we’re alive, so we don’t have to worry about them.”

‘Not worrying’ about someone who could instantly destroy me was a quaint concept, but so was much of my B&B experience lately.

For now, I’d get back to Otto’s and work out how the hell I was going to wipe out a few thousand more soldiers.

Light work.