Today’s Earth date: September 12, 1991
I think monsters in this world target Chosen Heroes specifically. We needed four nights to get from the Capital to Teagaisg, and we had at least two monster encounters each day. The worst day had six, four in daylight, two after dark. Most of them were goblins, and we got two orc attacks for variety I guess.
I’ve been talking to other travelers, and many of them have never been attacked, even if they regularly travel the road between cities. If I had to make a rough guess, it looks like one in four or one in eight trips face a threat of some kind.
Our being Heroes is the only thing I can think of that makes our travel so different. It’s been great for gaining experience, which has Horcus arguing that this world is even more of a video game than we’ve given it credit for.
If this were a game, none of us would have been surprised by a few battles between towns. The more we think of this place as an RPG, the better we’ll be able to anticipate problems like random encounters. That might be our best chance at surviving this.
-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin
***
Teagaisg looked like a piece of the Capital relocated and then given a new wall. The buildings had the same off-white construction, likely pulling stone from the same quarries for their construction, but where many buildings in the Capital had dark brown clay shingles, most of Tegaisg used wooden shingles. Wayne guessed that had to do with overall wealth, not to suggest Teagaisg was not well off, because it certainly was. Competing with the opulence of the Capital, however, was difficult.
The apprentice scholar working the front desk of the Teagaisg University Library froze when Wayne walked in, still dirty and bloody from the road. He likely smelled too, but Wayne could no longer confirm that. Whatever stench he had, his brain had accepted it as his new normal.
“Uhh… Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a scholar named Fergus,” Wayne said. “Has he come by here by chance?”
The apprentice needed a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. “Yes, yes he did.”
“Did he leave a message for Wayne?”
Flipping through a logbook on his desk, he stopped a few pages back. “He said to tell you that he’s at the Grand Pegasus.”
“Is that an inn?”
Nodding, the apprentice said, “Yes, and it’s a pretty nice one. It’s four blocks down on the left.”
“Great, could you also note that Wayne the Scholar has checked in?”
“...you’re a scholar?”
***
The Grand Pegasus was more hotel than inn. Where most inns had a tavern on the first floor, this establishment had a proper restaurant, with a hostess and reservations and bus boys and so on. Wayne waited in line at the check in desk, smiling at the sideways glances and repulsed faces of nobles who also had business in the lobby.
The clerk pulled him out of the line and gave him the key Fergus left. The clerk encouraged Wayne to bathe as soon as possible. His very presence disturbed the guests, he said. No one complained that Wayne got to leave the room early.
Fergus rented a two bedroom penthouse. The bedrooms were on either end with a large lounge in between, outfitted with enough cushioned seating for fifteen people or more. When the old scholar saw the state of his friend, he stopped him at the doorway, not allowing him to go any farther. Fergus grabbed Wayne a change of clothes and escorted him to the establishment’s private bathhouse.
Soon, Wayne sat in a tub of hot water, set flush with the floor with another tub next to it. They were the only people on the men’s side, currently.
“I don’t recall any accounts of what happened to the Heroes who declined their quest,” Fergus said, “but I remember the news. Even as a boy, I knew that was quite the scandal. The whole city was talking about it.”
“How likely is it that you overlooked a source that covered that material?”
Fergus glared at Wayne.
“No offense, of course.”
Leaning his head back and closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth, Fergus said, “It’s always possible, but it’s unlikely. When they decided to not be Heroes, I imagine they got a treatment similar to yours. That’s entirely assumptive, however.”
“Dying trapped underground is a terrible way to go.”
Fergus agreed. Dying of starvation or dehydration did not sound pleasant. “Despite the sad nature of their demise, this is a discovery to be celebrated. You could likely publish enough from that find alone to retire comfortably.”
“I’m leaning toward keeping it a secret.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Out of respect. They didn’t want any of this, and it feels wrong to force it on them even in death.”
Fergus shrugged. “Chosen Heroes serve the greater good. Their lives affect everyone, and people have the right to know and understand the source of that influence.”
“They declined it.”
“They still got access to the Diary of the Gods as well as divinely blessed equipment. Many would argue those belong to the people.”
“Their lives belong to them, no matter what,” Wayne said, a touch of terse frustration in his voice. “They were kids, brought here against their will and asked to risk their lives. They weren’t characters in a story. They were people.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Given your experience,” Fergus said with his eyes still closed, “I can understand your position. I maintain that knowledge of their lives could impact the greater good.”
“I’ll keep thinking about it.”
“On the bright side, collectors will pay a good sum for Hero equipment. Any item related to combat in some way is quite coveted.”
Wayne said he considered keeping all of it, or at least the sword if nothing else.
“Sell it and get a replacement with the profit.”
“The enchantment is too useful for that.”
Water splashed out of Fergus’ tub when he sat up. “You could use the enchantment?”
“Yes.”
“Remarkable…” The old scholar explained that the enchantments attached to Chosen Hero equipment only activated when worn or wielded by the appropriate Hero. The Fighter’s sword in the hands of the Paladin or any other person was just a piece of metal. The magical benefits imbued within would activate for no one else.
Except Wayne.
“We should test all of it to see if that access extends beyond the sword. It’s possible you were assigned the fighter class even if you didn’t get any of the boons that usually accompany it.”
“Fine, but I’m not wearing the rogue armor.”
Fergus asked why not.
“I don’t have the hips for it.”
Fergus agreed. “Get me a bottle of wine?” Fergus asked with a smile.
Goods Storage.
Reality rolled up and away, revealing a stone room filled with books and crates of wine. Fergus jumped for joy, splashing water out of the tub in waves.
***
Wayne took a long nap after his bath. Fergus didn’t bother him until the late evening, suggesting that they enjoy a nice meal. He knew a few good places they could try.
“How do you know restaurants in Teagaisg?”
“Wayne, I wasn’t a shut-in. I might not have traveled the world but I have been to more places than the Capital.”
For convenience, they chose a tavern around the corner. Soon, each had a medium rare steak with buttered asparagus and a red wine from some far away kingdom. Wayne didn’t know enough about wine in this world, or wine in general, to know why that mattered, but Fergus was impressed. Anytime he followed Fergus’ taste in food or drink, things went well for Wayne. This case was no exception.
Resource Values.
Bottle of Prolesian Malbec, Average Value of 17 gold coins.
Most of the wine they drank, and thoroughly enjoyed, was a few gold pieces at most, and they were considered exceptional vintages. This wine was good and he enjoyed drinking it, but Wayne couldn’t discern the difference between this malbec and a bottle of malbec that cost three gold pieces.
He mentioned the value of the bottle to Fergus.
“You’re biasing your sense of taste,” Fergus argued. “Appreciate the wine for its story, not its cost.”
“Now that I can know, I can’t help looking. This spoon? Two silvers. The knife? Two silvers. The tablecloth? One silver. Fergus the crotchety old man? Ten coppers.”
“It does not say that I’m worth ten coppers.”
Wayne admitted it didn’t. He wouldn’t use a skill on a person without their permission. Fergus told him he could.
Elder Human Male, Average Value of 63 gold coins.
“Only 63?! I have so much experience and so much character. I should be 1,000 gold pieces, at least.”
“I’m just telling you what it says.”
“What’s that value based on?”
That was a question Wayne had as well. He didn’t know how the values were derived or how accurate they were.
“I can say for certain that we overpaid for the wine,” Fergus said. “I’d expect to spend between 10 and 14 gold pieces if I bought it retail.”
So the skill was accurate for wine. That counted for something. Fergus said they may be able to test it extensively tomorrow.
“While you slept, I stopped in to see the art dealer we were recommended to speak with about that Page of Power,” Fergus said. “She said she’d leave word at the desk if tomorrow was possible, but probably not until the morning.”
“That’s good news.”
“Indeed. Let’s hope he is willing to sell it and doesn’t mind you touching everything else he owns.”
Wayne laughed, and they were quiet for some time after, occupied with carving off pieces of their delicious steaks, savoring the meat melting in their mouths. For all of its shortcomings, this world did steak better than Earth, a possibility Wayne would have never considered or thought possible.
“I need to say something.” Fergus wiped his mouth on his napkin and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I was callous in my discussion of the Heroes earlier.”
“Thank you, but it’s okay.”
Fergus shook his head. “It isn’t. You were right that I wasn’t thinking of them as people. I’ve allowed my work to turn the Heroes into collections of datapoints. I never had the pleasure of meeting them, so they exist purely on paper for me, but they lived and breathed like you and me.”
“I appreciate it,” Wayne said, sincerely.
“I see your hesitation to reveal your discovery much more clearly now. I am now torn over what the best course of action is.”
Wayne admitted that though he felt strongly about respecting the graves of Jason and Tammi–looting aside, obviously–he was somewhat torn also. He agreed with seeking and sharing knowledge, and the funny thing about research: it often took you to unexpected places. Who knows what they might learn by revealing his discovery to the Royal Library. Someone else might have a stray piece of information that was relatively useless, until now.
“As you said, we have time to ponder,” Fergus said. “Someone may recognize the sword and armor, however. When they do, questions are sure to follow.”
He hadn’t considered that. His mind was so focused on following video game logic–get new and better sword, equip it, use it until you find a new and better sword, sell the old one–that he didn’t think of other risks. Equipment in most RPGs was largely invisible, an item existed in your menu but wasn’t visible on your character, presumably because of art and production costs. Thinking of the system as a video game might be skewing his judgment, Wayne thought.
“It saved my life,” Wayne said. “Would it be weird to say it was a gift or I bought it from a collector?”
“Or some anonymous patron, taking pity on the Zero Hero.”
“I like that less but it sounds better. It’s not illegal for me to own this sword, right?”
Fergus said it was not. “Finding it in a collection somewhere isn’t all that outlandish.”
“Then I’m keeping it.”
The old scholar raised his hands in surrender.
While Fergus considered the dessert options, Wayne asked if there was anything he should know about interacting with a noble. This would be his first formal meeting with one. Every other noble he met had been in passing, quick handshakes from people who were curious to see the Zero Hero in person. None of them ever stuck around for conversation.
“You need not worry,” Fergus assured him. “Scholar decorum is more than sufficient, and if you offend him, we’ll just get thrown out. Nothing more. Royal nobles, now those are the folks you need to be mindful around.”
And they weren’t meeting a royal noble, just a plain old rich guy.
“We can do better than this for dessert,” Fergus said, waving the waiter over to settle the bill. “I know a place.”