Chapter 20: A Fairly Tight Timeline

TRISTAN

“Thanks for keeping Fred safe,” Jill said, turning to Tristan and forcing her otherwise annoyed face into a smile. “It’s not normally like this.”

“I’m sure people would still come even if it was,” Tristan joked, though it didn’t seem to land well based on the slight increase in the flutter-rate of the fairy’s wings. Or maybe she was preoccupied with the mess starting to emerge from her kitchen.

At the far end of the restaurant, servers were beginning to bring out plates of food again, but it was clear that not all the diners were still in their seats. Several servers were looking worriedly from empty seats to the exit in hopes that the missing diners might return now that things had settled.

Tristan saw Jill’s head turn this way and that, her wings flapping quicker and quicker, before she eventually zipped toward a group of servers that were starting to return the unclaimed meals to the kitchen. “No, no, no! Just give it to them with our deepest apologies!” she said, pointing the servers toward several patrons that looked like they were leaving.

Finally given a chance to breathe without something urgent needing his attention, Tristan noticed several new notifications in the corner of his vision, the most recent of which was:

[Event Quest complete: Not Dead Fred]

Experience increased due to bonus objectives completed.

He’d earned a lot of EXP, too, and upon examining the quest notification, he saw that the bonus objective was preventing Fred from taking any damage. Something he would have done either way.

He hoped he’d get better at noticing notifications as they came up. It would have been unfortunate to have missed this opportunity if it hadn’t been so natural for him, for example. He remembered from his tier-up that events would be available now, so he should be more prepared for them. He wondered what the crafting events would be like and couldn’t wait to see what kinds of challenges and rewards they’d provide.

Checking the notification’s timing, he'd been offered the quest just moments after the fight began, which was apparently what started the event. It came along with a slew of other options, ranging from the expected (assisting either the gnome or the illusionist) to the truly distasteful (stealing from or killing Fred). Some had offered more than just experience as rewards, especially if he’d somehow managed to defeat the illusionist. Still, Tristan was glad he had made the choice he had. He wouldn’t sell out his ideals or Path for some fleeting rewards.

Event quests were not a new concept to Tristan. He’d read about them in several reputable guides, but the prevailing wisdom was that while they weren’t hard to find, they could rarely be forced, and you were never offered any that directly opposed your Path. How he’d stumbled into this one, which wasn’t related to sword smithing seemingly at all, was beyond him. He wasn’t upset about it though, and he figured he could ask Jamal about it eventually.

All I did was help when someone else needed it. What a great reward for something I would have done anyways.

It was strange, because ever since he got his Core, he’d thought his Path had been pushing him toward caring more about himself. This had been a purely, instinctually, selfless act. He was glad to see quests still offered him such considerate options.

Not far from the kitchen were Aaric, the attendant, and the trainer. None of the three had acted during the fight, at least not in any appreciable way. Part of Tristan wondered if the event gave them quests to just sit on their asses. Not only were they completely ignoring the mess, but they were openly talking amongst themselves. He wondered what it was that had made them finally decide to stop using party chat.

Two servers approached their table with carefully balanced trays of food. Tristan’s stomach rumbled enviously. I wonder if Fred can place my order to go. Or should I maybe ask someone else?

A glance over at Fred showed that the little goblin was trying to straighten his uniform, but his shaky hands were making the process challenging. Upon noticing Tristan’s attention, he shifted his efforts to pulling a notepad from his pocket, which Tristan recalled he hadn’t needed before.

“Are you all right, Fred?”

“Yes, sir, I am fine. Or I will be fine. Yes, I will be. It was quite good that you were there to help.” The goblin’s hands were steadying the more he spoke. “But it’s as I told you, sir: I do have good luck.”

Jill flew over toward them as Fred tapped the pencil to the page. “Sir, I am just a bit out of sorts right now. Can you con-firm that you did pick the pot roast? I beg your par-don, but if you stay I could get you a great des-sert too--"

“You absolutely must!” Jill interrupted, bubbling over with nervous energy, “after helping Fred as you did!”

Tristan nervously shifted the sword on his back, looking at the shadows growing across the porch outside and knowing that his time was limited. “Maybe if I could grab something to go.”

The fairy tapped Fred on the shoulder enthusiastically. “Whatever he chooses, it’s on the house.”

Tristan looked worriedly at the far table. “I’m on a fairly tight timeline; I only had an hour to begin with. Maybe just an appetizer or dessert.”

“No, I insist: whatever you want, order it, and we’ll rush it to the top of the queue.” Jill fluttered to within a foot of his face and held his gaze. “Please, I insist. I cannot let such kindness go overlooked.”

There was an urgency in the fairy’s last sentence that felt important. So Tristan nodded. “I just wanted the pot roast, since Fred recommended it. And some sweet tea, please.”

“Then you shall have it!” the fairy said, flying straight over to Fred and tearing out the page from the notepad he’d only just finished scribbling on. Then, with it in hand, she zoomed to the kitchen.

Tristan was left beside the goblin who rubbed his head as he considered where to stow his pencil. “I guess it’s good I wrote it down this time,” he said, smiling with slight chagrin. “Miss Jill is quite fast, as you see, sir, so you will have your food that much fast-er.” He sighed, looking forsakenly at the room before them, specifically at the section of tables that were in clear disarray. “I don’t know where to seat you, sir. I don’t do that, and I might get it wrong now that my whole sec-tion is... well, sir, we will have to wait for Miss Jill to come back.”

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“Don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m sure wherever you sit me will be fine.”

Fred’s mouth twisted with uncertainty. “Yes, sir. You must be right, sir. Miss Jill likes to say the cust-mer is al-ways right. So of course you would be, too!” He brightened as he saw the fairy speeding toward them. “Miss Jill! Where shall I seat my new friend?”

Tristan was quickly seated at a new table, still within sight of Aaric's table and the door. Within only a few minutes, his food was brought out. Fred had been totally correct to recommend the pot roast; it was phenomenal. Almost better than his mother made at home--not that he’d ever tell her that. Had it not been for the looming risk of abandonment causing him to keep glancing at Aaric’s table, it would have been a completely enjoyable meal.

Right as Fred brought out a delicious looking apple pie, Aaric and the others rose and began meandering toward the door. Tristan began wolfing it down, trying to explain to Fred in between bites that while it was amazing, he really had to go. He hoped the goblin understood. When he asked the goblin how much he should have owed for the meal, he was politely refused.

“It’s on the house, sir,” the goblin reminded him.

“I'm only asking so that I can leave a suitable tip,” he said, hoping that self-interest would get some sort of answer.

But Fred still, firmly, denied him. “That is quite kind of you, sir, but I will not take a thing from you. You saved my life this day. My life, sir, is the tip. There is no need for more. But I do thank you, sir, for the kind thought.”

Tristan sighed and relented. It had clearly become a point of honor to the goblin

With Aaric literally walking out the door, Tristan shoveled the final bites into his mouth and rose to leave.

Fred was at his side immediately. “Is there a thing I may do to help as you leave?”

“Thanks, Fred, but I'm just... Could you point me to the restroom?”

The goblin gave a grand bow and indicated a door near the entrance. “Of course, sir. You have a great rest of the night, sir. Thank you for eat-ing at Jill's!”

Tristan waited for Fred to leave before dropping two gold pieces in the center of the table and heading toward the door. He guessed it was a bit more than he would have paid for the whole meal, and the goblin deserved every bit of it for his service. Tristan couldn’t help but like the little guy.

Just before Tristan turned toward the restroom door, Jill appeared at his shoulder again. “How was everything? I do hope that your experience has been superb, beyond the incident.”

Tristan smiled earnestly at her. “The food was as good as I’ve ever had, and Fred’s service was even better. He really went out of his way to make me feel at home.”

The fairy bobbed as her wings flapped enthusiastically. “Good, good. You did good, kid. Unlike that other group you said you weren’t with when you got here. THey were incredibly rude, and no amount of coin can cover that.” She shook her head, looking Tristan up and down. “I hope you don’t get too involved with them.”

“No ma’am. They’re from my town, and I'm catching a ride with them. That’s all.”

“Then be careful you don't end up a target by association. He’s sure to upset the wrong kind of person sooner or later, by throwing his wealth around like that. On top of that, there’s a new thief about; seems to be able to take gear right off of you. If the reports are true, his Path sounds quite powerful. I wouldn’t want to hang around such opportune targets, or you might lose a lot more than your shirt.”

Tristan bowed slightly, moving slightly toward the restroom door while they talked. “I appreciate the warning.”

The fairy giggled, clearly catching on. “Oh! Well, should your Path ever bring you this way again, know that your next meal is on the house, too.”

Tristan tried to protest, “You’ve already been kind enough. Really, I didn’t do that much.”

“You made a bad situation better without a thought of personal gain,” she offered. “That’s enough.”

The fairy extended her hand, and Tristan shook it with two of his fingers.

“May your Path be long and fruitful,” Jill said with a flying curtsy. Then she was gone, back into her restaurant.

At last Tristan sped through the restroom, and made his way towards where the carriage had stopped, wasting no time. The last vestiges of light barely hung on to the horizon with colors as that reminded Tristan of the stages of cooling steel.

The voice of the trainer broke his reverie. “I was worried you might not take the itinerary seriously.”

“No, you were quite clear with my rules,” Tristan replied, showing more of his annoyance than he meant to.

“If that’s how you see it.” He waited quietly for a moment, but Tristan didn’t respond. “The carriage is about to leave. We will not stop again until the morning, so take care of any needs now.”

“Already done,” Tristan replied.

Together they walked to the carriage, where Tristan sat by himself in the front seat. He had seen Aaric already sprawled out again in the back, perhaps preparing to sleep. Clearly he wasn’t bothered at all by the evening’s events. Tristan sighed and tried to think of anything else. He was so tired after the long day of traveling and the excitement during the meal. Maybe, if he could just stop thinking about Aaric and the others, he could get a good night’s sleep. Dealing with them could be a problem for tomorrow. Or possibly the next day.

It was a problem for future-Tristan.

- - - - -

For two days, Tristan rode in that carriage surrounded more or less by silence. At first it was frustrating, but then he found that the monotonous sounds of the carriage and the roads made good background noise for the type of reflection process his father had tried to teach him. It was still a struggle. One he was about to give up on, when Aaric chose to open his mouth.

“I asked ‘what are you doing?’” he jabbed while standing in the door of the carriage before another dinner break.

Tristan, who had intentionally ignored the boy the first time he'd asked, frowned as he opened his eyes. “I'm reflecting. My father says it’s important.”

“Out here? My father tries to sell me on that nonsense all the time, but what’s the use? You can’t even do anything in this carriage. Maybe if you were in a... where do blacksmiths work again?”

Behind Aaric, the attendant cleared his throat, hoping to be let out. But Aaric did not budge.

Tristan’s brows knitted tightly. “What better use do I have for my time?”

The boy squinted at him and produced a book from an interior pocket. “Reading, practical study. Literally anything. We're fresh tier 2s; we’ve got lots of ways we can better ourselves. I try to always have something to do. That’s how I became an ice prodigy.”

Tristan had a hard time keeping his eyes from rolling.

“I’m glad those work for you, but I’m going to keep trying this. Even if it’s a waste of time, it’s my time to waste.”

The ice mage stepped out of the carriage at last. “Fine. Well we’re going to dinner.” He scoffed, as the attendant followed directly at his heels.

Tristan felt a strange calm wash over him as he let the others go, finding himself oddly thankful for the quiet that frustrated him only days before.

He'd suddenly found a new drive to embrace his father’s advice: he would not be anything like Aaric Longbloom. If his father said something was worth doing, then Tristan owed it to himself to listen and give it his best shot. He wouldn’t let his pride get in the way of doing better, not when it came to his crafting. In that realm, his father succeeded far more often than he failed.

With as often as his father had talked about reflecting, Tristan suspected it was one of the reasons his old man’s abilities had grown to be so renowned.

Tristan knew it would take him lots of work, but hard work was something he would never back down from.