I didn’t understand how Claire could’ve gotten inside. In about thirty seconds, the cart I was hiding behind would have a team of eight soldiers check every square inch of its contents and structure. I couldn’t even go full spy-movie and cling to the underside.

“Psst. Oi.”

She was in a bush. One perk about infiltrating the Royal Botanist’s was that there was nearly as much greenery on the outside as there was on the inside. Sprawling gardenbeds curled around the dome and bordered the various roads leading further into Bretonhal’s industrial district.

This place was only one large cog in an even larger machine.

I split from my cover, hunching over and rushing to a neighbouring shrub. It had a heady scent of pollen, and bees with red stripes buzzed around the flowering buds. The guards didn’t notice me.

“How the hell are we getting in there?” I wondered aloud.

“Could we break the glass?”

I inched closer. Our shrubs were bordering the dome, and anyone walking the perimeter of the place would be able to see us. Luckily, the dozens of workers inside were paying attention to their tasks.

“It looks enchanted. Very enchanted. It’s not even see-through in some places.”

“Well then, hit it in a place where it is see-through.”

My plan involved a bit more stealth. I didn’t have one formulated just yet, but I knew stealth would at least play a part in it.

“We could hop in a cart and pretend to be dead bodies. Put a sticky note on our chests saying ‘Fertiliser’.”

“Dream on.”

I sat, tossing around ideas and trying to get my brain to come up with good ones. It was like there was a monkey inside my head, clapping two cymbals together. A stupendous idea came to mind.

“What about we show them the Dallytongue? Would they recognise it?”

Claire didn’t immediately disapprove, which meant it was at least not a terrible thought.

“And what happens if these soldiers — not botanists — are unable to identify this random limp flower you’re holding? Do we just walk away? I don’t think so.”

I mulled it over. Claire picked flowers off our only cover. Bees buzzed.

“We just have to sell it.”

With confidence that I did not feel, I launched myself from the bush, took the Dallytongue from my inventory, and put on my best overhyped-researcher face. I clenched the flower in two hands, rushing at the soldiers.

“Guards! Guards! You must let me see the Royal Botanist! I have the Dallytongue! I HAVE IT!”

Claire followed along, matching my fervour.

“QUICK!” she yelled, waving her arms and hopping from left to right. “It has been out of water nearly too long! It won’t take root! PLEASE!”

The guard nearest us stepped back. His job was just to check carts, not deal with plant enthusiasts whose mental stability seemed ambiguous. No one stepped forward to deal with us, so I laid it on thick.

“Call an attendant, please kind sir. The Royal Botanist himself must be notified! Even still, just let us put it in soil. It is necessary!”

A soldier, finally showing some bravery, stepped forward.

“The Royal Botanist is a lady. ‘Herself’, not ‘himself’. What did you say you had there?”

Oh crap. Keep it together. Brush it off.

Claire spoke up. “Then our master is dead? When we left to find this plant, all those decades ago, the Royal Botanist was a man!”

“You don’t look that old. Did you say deca—”

“PLEASE!” I fell to his feet, raising the plant above my head like a heathen begging for forgiveness.

A bee came and landed on the flower. A cart driver complained that he had places to be.

“Fine. Go in and get your thing planted. I’ll be reporting this incident in ten minutes when I’m off my shift. You better stop the waterworks by then, because you’ll need to explain everything to my superior officer.”

I smiled at the ground. When I raised my head, I wiped away fake tears and cradled the Dallytongue. Claire sniffled and hung her head as we trudged through the checkpoint.

The inside of the Royal Botanist’s smelled like someone had tipped over the spice section at a supermarket.

Rows upon rows of carefully tended plants jutted from broad metal containers. Larger trees had ladders leaning up against their wide trunks, with attendants plucking some kind of fruit from the boroughs of the tree. A conga line of interns in white coats used tweezers to pull the tiniest sprouts of weeds from the raised flowerbeds.

“That was the stupidest thing we’ve done yet,” Claire told me.

“I admit it wasn’t my best plan.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“What if he’d insisted on documentation? I can’t very well show him my pin, can I? We have nothing.”

I gave her a knowing smile and pulled an official-looking envelope from my pocket. I peeled off the seal, sliding down the top of the parchment to reveal the manifest from our cart-driver-turned-informant’s load.

“You stole it? But it’s an order for loaves of bread and a few crates of melons! How would that help us?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a perfect plan. Just a backup. If things went pear-shaped, I was gunna flash this and say that it’s a classified work order. Those military guys love classified things — makes them feel part of something bigger.”

“So you’re relying on a very human sentiment and applying it to NPCs in a videogame.”

I nodded, choosing not to engage in that debate. “Precisely. But here we are. Let’s find ourselves some Perrywort.”

Our prize was clearly not out here. The attendants watered the flowers and smaller plants with spray bottles, doling out a couple squeezes of water before moving onto the next plant. From what Otto indicated, the Perrywort would need every single intern in the place to crowd around with a fire hose in order to give it enough water.

And there would be additional security. I couldn’t believe that Otto gave me this quest to do alone.

“Your acting has improved, by the way.”

Claire glanced at me, deciding if it was a jab or a compliment. “Thanks. I took heed of your recent performances. Really felt the character, you know?”

“A method actor. Nice choice.”

We strode onwards, two apprentice botanists with no clue where they were going. The dome was expansive — maybe half a mile in diameter — which meant we would be walking for a while longer.

“I guess we should find out where they fill their little spray bottles? That might help.”

Claire nodded, though she looked distracted.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Oh. Nothing interesting.” Saying that only makes it more interesting. “I was just thinking about all this, and how we fought to the death not long ago. How don’t you hate me?”

Woah. Strange time to get into it. I haven’t even had time to think about that.

“I guess…Do you really want to know?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, well, it’s kind of like this game I used to play as a kid, called Wights vs Protectors. Super lame name, but it had multiplayer PvP which was absolutely amazing at the time. But,” I paused for dramatic effect, “It also had spawn-campers. There were these players who would sit at your spawn and shoot the XCR-40T Laser Rifle into the spawn zone, instantly killing me when I spawned.”

“And what am I in this example. The gun? The player?”

“You’re neither, and that’s kind of the point. Those guys weren’t having fun or gaining anything from spawn-camping — they just held down a button and walked away from the game. They did it only to hurt other players and make them miserable. You did what you did to help yourself and your family. That’s why I don’t hate you. In fact, I kind of hate myself sometimes for what I did. But we don’t have time to get into my trauma.”

The [Huntress] went red in the cheeks, even through the game. It only took a couple days and multiple sessions of playing together, but it felt like there was a chance of resolution between us.

At least a spark.

“I feel really bad now.”

“Why? I just said that what you did was understandable. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not that.”

I waited for more information, but she didn’t seem eager to share. An attendant passed me a melon as we brushed through their conga line, and I handed it to the next person absently. Claire was deep in thought.

“You good, bud? We got a long way to go on this journey — don’t go telling yourself off just yet. I need you at your best.”

She smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Okay boss, three bags full, boss. Let’s find this stupid flower and get out of here.”

I chose not to remind her of the second quest. There would be time for that later.

At the part of the dome furthest from where we’d entered, there lay a box-shaped building with two stubby guards standing outside, leaning on their spears and doing back stretches. Steps descended past them, leading down to a lightless somewhere.

The more attentive guard stood to attention as we approached. I had a good feeling about this place.

“We’re here to see the Royal Botanist. We have a special delivery.”

Keep it neutral. You’re already in, just play it cool.

“Are you sure? My Lady’s schedule is fully booked out today. Privately. Who did you say you were?”

I jittered. The longer we stayed outside, the more risk we were taking. I was becoming ultra-conscious of the fact that the prior guard’s ten-minute warning was now well and truly up, mainly because we took so long to get across here.

If the soldiers chasing us down make their way over, we’ll be fighting our way out of here. With or without the Perrywort.

I glanced at Claire. She handballed the conversation back to me. I had nothing.

“We’re…um…Jenry and Bouquisha. Research students. We have a delivery for Her Highness.”

“Her Highness?” the guard replied. Everything was falling apart.

To make matters worse, my nightmare came true. A voice shouted from behind us, and it belonged to the red-faced, puffing and blustering, good-for-nothing guard I’d worried about.

“They’re intruders!” he yelled. “Arrest them! Kill them!”

Claire sprung into action, neatly bunting the hilt of her dagger into one guard’s helmet and sweeping the legs out from his comrade. We practically fell down the steps into the darkness, blindly placing one foot in front of the other.

I fell and got up. Claire hit a wall. The place was an unlit maze, and I could hear cackling echoing around us.

“That doesn’t sound great,” I said to the darkness. Somewhere, Claire thumped into something and turned a corner.

“Anything would be better than this. Being blind sucks.”

We bounced around, brute-forcing our way through the maze. Eventually, Claire just put one hand on the wall, grabbed me with the other, then dragged us around the perimeter. It was bound to work eventually.

After a while of sprinting and crashing, I voiced my concerns.

“This wall feels kind of familiar.”

“It’s not. Trust me.”

I had no idea why I should trust her, but I did. The echoes at least seemed to have a clear source now. Either we were making progress, or it was coming to get us.

“There. Light.”

She wasn’t kidding. It was dim, but it was light. We beelined straight for it. The guards had come in after us, and they seemed to know the direct route. If we were a moment slower, they’d have cut off the exit and we’d have a fight on our hands.

At this point, a fight might be far simpler. Especially against these chumps.

The maze was unravelling. We were only moments away from freedom.

A short, purple-robed figure stood at the exit, blocking our path. Bright orange curls bounced to around their chin, ornamented with tied-up sections of herbs. A silver tiara sat atop their head, a dull emerald only visible because of its impressive size and clarity.

The Royal Botanist.

She held a round object in her hand, like a bowling bag to be held by a capuchin monkey. When we got close, she tossed it at us.

We dodged a direct hit. It hit the ground and exploded.

Coarse green powder filled the air, a fog of broken-down moss and something distinctly fungus-y.

Claire coughed. “Ollie! My abilities! I can’t—”

I turned back. Whatever movement ability she’d activated, it no longer worked. She readied her bow and fired a shot. It ricocheted off a side wall and almost impaled me, falling far short of the Botanist’s guards.

“It’s a debuff,” she managed, falling into another coughing fit. “It takes away our skills. And there’s no auto-aim on my bow.”

The Botanist shoved her hands in her pockets and called to the guards.

“Timothy! I…I guess you should kill them.”

‘Timothy’ and his band of soldiers advanced. I steadied my spear and shield, noting how different they felt. It was like being back at Esko’s, completely giving up the natural ability that B&B seemed to imbue its players with.

This is it, Esko. Time for everything you’ve taught me to pay off.

I charged.