I was almost hoping for Penelope to say ‘Nah, that’s just a random blacksmith. Keep it movin’, horsey’. but of course it was Great King Gonar, just the man I needed to see.

It was almost too perfect. I wanted to rest, or at least have a short break from the action, but instead things kept popping up, linking themselves together into one giant casserole of non-stop questing.

I should be happy about it. I am happy. That statue is my first step toward some new armour.

For now, we were busy escaping. I’d lock that knowledge away for a while and come back later when I wasn’t so tired. It seemed like Penelope knew a bit about the guy anyway. I could pick her brains.

Or Claire could. Apparently she was the child-whisperer.

“Claire, you wanna lead? I’m worried I’ll fu— mess up.”

“Sure.” She passed by, nudging me in the ribs for my nearly-foul language. “Hey Penny, you just tell me which ways to go, okay? You’re our leader.”

Penelope shuffled around and started forming my hair into a mohawk. “Okay, Claire-y. It’s the next right.”

“Thanks, Pen.”

Penelope. Penny. Pen. Pretty soon we’ll just be calling her P.

We found our way onto a sheer glass walkway, high above the attendants. I wondered how they would react if they knew that we were carrying away their boss.

Maybe they’d be excited about the vacancy in the top job.

When our climb finally became a descent, it was a sheer drop into the aqueducts. I’d thought we’d managed to avoid them, but Penelope didn’t seem concerned.

Unless she’s got a water-breathing potion hidden somewhere in those robes, it mustn’t be too bad.

We all took a deep breath and jumped.

It was strangely warm. It reminded me of a time when I’d helped Dale clear a blockage in the spouting. It was a hot day, and when I shoved my hand into a clump of leaves and yanked it out, a slew of water rushed out. It had sat on the hot metal all morning, sucking in warmth.

After a while, it became relaxing. The wild ride calmed down into a casual float down the river. Penelope let go of my head and floated over to Claire, giggling and kicking. Claire latched onto her in fright, worried that the sodden robe would weigh her down and drag her under.

“It’s dry!” she remarked. “How is it dry?”

Penelope simply floated around, the buoyancy of the waterproof robe supporting her.

“Marcus gave it to me. He likes doing weird magic. Also fake magic.”

“Fake magic?”

“Card tricks. He also found money in my ears. Lots.”

Marcus sounded interesting. Being in Asteroth for a prolonged period of time was starting to normalise it, taking away the feeling that everyone here was an enemy.

Penelope was cool. Marcus sounded cool. Even someone like Marla required further analysis. If it wasn’t for the ‘baits civilians into a forest and eats them’ part, I’d have given the place a three out of three for cool people.

Once Bretonhal was just a blip on the horizon and our aqueduct started to split off into various tributaries, we hopped out. Claire procured fresh clothes from her inventory. I stood around, dripping.

“Good to see you so prepared for the trip, Ollie.”

I tried to bunch the bottom of my shirt together and squeeze out the moisture. “I have a friend you would get along famously with. Except she’s cooler because she would’ve packed clothes for me, too.”

Claire put on an exaggerated pout before reaching back into her inventory and pulling out a pair of pants and a crisp, well-ironed green shirt.

“I want to be clear,” she said as she handed them over, “these were not initially purchased or packed for you. This is a fortunate coincidence.”

“Or it’s fate,” I suggested.

She rolled her eyes.

Now we had to decide where we were going next. I wanted to have lunch, and I’m guessing Claire wanted to as well, but now we had a child to manage. One that wouldn’t be safe in the wilderness by herself.

If I told Joey and Duri that I was locked in B&B because of my responsibility for a tiny NPC child, they would laugh me out of the room. But treating NPCs well was what got me here in the first place, and I wasn’t going to stop just because it presented some practical challenges, though those challenges were daunting.

How do you look after a child without being present, and without having any way for them to contact you?

I thought it might have been handy to ask my father for help. He had a treasure trove of knowledge in this department.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Is it crazy that I’m thinking of Piliton’s?” I asked Claire.

“The Palace? That’s not even funny, it’s just stupid.”

“No. Lord Piliton’s. With his goody-goody sons.”

Claire looked at me like I was mental. “Explain.”

“His sons basically said that the King is inept. They want their papa on the throne. We have him look after Penny while we’re away, and in return he can say that the King’s ineptitude allowed a literal child to run the kingdom’s supply of herbs and ingredients, and that she was able to escape all by herself! It all wraps up neatly.”

It so doesn’t. But it’s an idea, and my stomach will start eating itself if we don’t hurry up and make a decision.

“Fine. It’s ridiculous, but fine. Now how do we get there?”

I grinned. Claire noticed, and grimaced.

“Ollie? How.”

“Remember when we met Piliton’s sons? We were taking a break and having a drink at the stream.”

Clare nodded confirmation. “What of it?”

“Do you remember whose Daddy owned that stream?”

“You’re joking.”

I was not. “Better take back this dry stuff. We’re going for another swim.”

Claire sighed. Penelope celebrated.

**************

All things considered; it was quite pleasant.

There are worse things to be doing on a Thursday afternoon, especially when the water is cool and the child is happily floating downstream, arms and legs pointed out like a starfish on its Great Migration. Penelope bounced along while Claire watched her, making sure she didn’t stray too far.

Once the volume of water lessened, we occasionally had to hop out and navigate around a fallen tree or some other blockage. The most inconvenient detour was when Claire realised that our current stream was flowing away from where we wanted to end up. I’d assumed all roads would lead to Rome.

They don’t.

My main concern with the whole plan was that Lord Piliton wouldn’t actually live near the stream he allegedly owned. Claire reassured me that his sons had to be travelling from somewhere, but I was concerned we were going this far out of our way for potentially zero payoff.

After all, the statue of Great King Gonar was right there. I had my portable encyclopedia of plant knowledge floating along next to me, but I had no idea if her knowledge of the blacksmith was any more than knee-deep.

There were a lot of balls in the air. There was no way I’d catch them all.

“Does that look lordly enough for you, Ollie?”

“Heh?”

We were trudging along a riverbank when Claire pointed at something to the south. It was a monstrous house — a manor — and it definitely looked lordly.

“Depends. Do you think those steps are solid gold? Or just gold plated? It’s an important distinction.”

“Let’s go and find out.”

We enacted a quick dress-change on the riverbank. Penelope told us what crops the Piliton’s were currently growing and precisely why their pumpkin crop was going to suck.

“They’ve planted too close to the riverbank. All this debris will make their soil more acidic. Pum-kings don’t like that.”

“I believe you, little lassie,” I told her. “Just maybe don’t tell them that when we knock on their door. I don’t think rich people appreciate being told how to do things.”

Penelope drew a pretend zip across her mouth and held Claire’s hand. “Mer mouf iv vipped up,” she said from the corner of her mouth.

We thought it would be rude to cross straight through their fields and track in mud, so we had to keep walking until we found one of their many driveways. A carriage was just going the opposite way, but we couldn’t see the occupant.

Hopefully not Lord Piliton.

We made it to one of the entrances and knocked using the bronze doorknocker. It had a panda-like creature on it, though its back legs were considerably longer than I was used to, and its snout was quite angular.

I heard shoes clacking on something hard as one of the Lord’s butlers approached. I was tossing up between marble and polished stone when one of the large double-doors opened, admitting us to the manor.

Marble. Knew it.

“How may I help you?” asked our venerable greeter.

“Hi there. We request an audience with Lord Piliton. We have information that he may find useful. Also, we need you to look after this little tyke for an hour or so. She’ll hang out in the garden, I think.”

The butler’s lips tightened into a thin pink line.

“I can’t guarantee either of those things, but why don’t you come inside for now. There is a sitting area, and I will bring you tea. Ah, off with those shoes, please.”

He was singling me out. I looked down and noticed a big clod of gunk lining my heel. Whatever I’d stepped in, it wasn’t pleasant.

“My apologies,” I mumbled. I kicked off my shoes and left them outside. The butler looked at my feet in distaste. Luckily, he didn’t request that I take my skin off.

Once allowed in, I had a good look at the surrounds. We started off in a high-ceilinged sitting room, with a large painting sitting in an ornate frame over the fireplace. A straight staircase went up to a second floor, but it looked like a private area. Bookcases occupied any spare wall space, all of them filled with books and not much else. Some had kids’ toys strewn on the shelves or a cart built out of tiny sticks, but it came across as a very learned space.

Argh. Why couldn’t I be here under different circumstances? The knowledge I might find in these books…

The butler beckoned to us to sit. He strode to a kitchenette on the other side of the open hallway and pulled a floral tea set from a cupboard. Penelope dangled her legs from her chair, bumping her heels on the cushioning.

“Remind me of the plan?” Claire asked.

“Be nice. Be humble. Don’t piss off the rich old man, because we want his help.”

A deep voice rumbled across the manor. “A rich what man?”

Claire shot me a look. It said only one word.

‘Nice.’

A man — I immediately assumed Lord Piliton — glided down the stairs. He had an open book in one hand and a glass of amber liquid in the other. The butler immediately hurried across to him and topped up his glass.

“Thank you, Percival. I think after this I’d better slow down.”

Percival hurried back to preparing our tea, not missing a beat. He brought a warm mug of milk and a biscuit for Penelope. She held the mug in both hands.

“I’m sorry, Lord Piliton. I didn’t know you were there.”

“It’s alright, young fellow. Lots of people say lots of things about me these days. Old is one of the nicer ones. It implies wisdom, I say.”

He’s letting me off the hook.

“With all these books around, I’d definitely believe that.”

Lord Piliton chuckled. “Don’t butter me up too much, boy. Once again, a lot of people do that as well. It grows tiresome.”

I couldn’t score any runs with this guy. I glanced at Claire, my eyes asking for some help. She stood up and curtsied to our host.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Piliton. My friend isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, I’m afraid. We’ve come to offer you information. In return, we were hoping you could look after a young friend of ours for a little while.”

He frowned. “What a quaint trade. Where is this young friend of yours?”

Penelope placed down her mug of milk and poked her head around her chair. Her face lit up.

“Uncle Pilly!”

Lord Piliton swept open his arms. “Miss Barth! How delightful!”

Penelope dashed from her chair and sprinted across the floor at him. With a running jump, she clung to his leg as he braced for impact.

“My, my! How much you’ve grown!” he said, patting her head.

“My, my!” she mimicked. “How much you’ve shrunk!”

Lord Piliton laughed, coolly raising his eyes to meet us.

“What a lovely surprise. Now what was it about that information?”