The Rifleman - Bk1 - Ch.3

Chapter Three

Hearty Hello

Licking the rim of the upended canteen failed to miraculously summon any extra water. He tried twice more anyway and wiped his hand across his sweaty brow. Water was something they never had to think about back home. It was just always there. The only time he had thought about it at all was when he was trying to decide between regular or sparkling.

Suddenly, it all seemed much more important. 

His feet felt heavy as he trudged up the rise. The smoke was definitely closer now. Another couple of hours, and he should be there, but a sleepless night was not helping Wesley’s exhaustion or his mood. The sight of the rough wooden walls of the village was simultaneously disappointing and uplifting.

Uplifting because, hello, civilization, and disappointing because it hardly qualified. Some of the wooden logs that made up the wall still had branches on. Dried mud was smeared across the gaps, and it was already flaking and cracking in places. 

That could not be a good sign. 

The closer he got, the worse it got. From the muddy ground around the gates to the slight lean to one part of the wall, there was a general sense of a run-down, beat-up wreck of a place. From the peak of the rolling hill he had crossed to get here, the thatched rooves had been visible, and they badly needed patching. He would have assumed the place was abandoned if it wasn’t for the smoke from multiple chimneys.

Now he was finally here, Wesley felt his stomach twisting with anxiety. This was an alien world. A game world, apparently. Who knew what horrors or nightmares might be beyond those simple wooden gates? Would they even be able to understand each other?

All of these questions and a hundred more raced through his mind, but they were all drowned out by a single clamoring need.

Water.

“Hold!” The voice had a tinny sound to it, but at least it was English. Thank the heavens for small mercies. “Who are you?”

“Uh, I’m Wes,” he said lamely. How had he not planned what to say? “Look, this is going to sound really strange, but I was just abducted and dumped on this world—” That was as far as he got.

“Which player do you serve?” The voice sounded urgent, almost angry.

“No idea; I’m apparently a Non-Player Character, whatever the fuck that is,” Wesley called back nervously. “I don’t want trouble; I just need some help.”

“Stay back from the gate; we are opening up,” the voice said again, sounding a lot calmer now. “If you make any sudden moves, we will kill you.”

So much for calmer, Wesley thought.

One wooden gate swung slowly open, revealing a slightly overweight man with a wooden leg. He had a crossbow in one hand, but it wasn’t pointed at Wesley yet. Other than some leather arm guards he was dressed entirely in some kind of linen clothing. They looked rough, worn, and, to be honest, quite itchy. The only other thing he had was a small metal cube tied on a piece of leather around his neck.

“You can come in, but only until nightfall,” The man said gruffly. “First, I need to know your class, and I need you to read this,” He threw a block of wood into the mud at Wes’ feet. Wes stooped and picked it up, seeing some kind of rune-like script carved or burned deeply into one side. The longer Wes stared at them, the stranger they seemed until suddenly, it was clear.

Something in his head just clicked, and he could read the runes, but a familiar script appeared over the top of them first.

Language Primer Read!

Language - World Standard Learned!

There was a sharp pain on Wesley's neck, and he yelped and slapped at it.

“Don’t bother,” The man said with a laugh as he removed the metal cube. “It never gets any better.” 

Wesley nodded and read the cube again. The language came naturally to him, as if he had read it all his life.

No Skills, Spells, or Abilities are allowed within the town limits. Breaking this rule will be met with immediate death.

No Stealing under penalty of expulsion.

No Killing under penalty of death.

No remaining within City Limits after sundown.

Penalty of permanent ban on entry.

“Pretty strict,” Wesley whistled. 

“We got reasons; you don’t like the rules, don’t come in.” He spat to one side, the spit mixing with the muddy mess.

“Fair enough,” Wes smiled. “My class is Rifleman, by the way.”

“What’s that?” The man asked, scratching his head.

“Not sure; I can shoot, and I can heal a bit. It also said something about exploring, but I wasn’t really paying attention at the time.” Wes admitted.

“Well, we might be able to use the healing, I ‘spose,” He waved Wesley forward. “Come on in.”

“Thank you, Mister…” Wesley tried.

“I’m Guardsman Keller; that’ll do for now,” Keller said offishly. “We are not taking you in, so get that idea out of your head right now.”

“Understood,” Wesley said with a sigh. “Is there somewhere I can get some water at least?”

“Sure, if you can pay,” Keller laughed. “You can sell anything you want over at the Market. It’s all we got, so don’t start complaining.” He pointed to a large building as he spoke. “Once you got the coin, you can get food and water from the Village hall.” He seemed to hesitate, “If you don’ mind a bit of risk, you can also earn off the Delver’s Guild representative. They will let Gem know anything anyone wants done, so she’s the only place to get work.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Wesley nodded. “I’ll head straight to the Market, thanks.”

“Hey,” Keller called him back. “You run out of other options; I’ll buy them clothes off of you. Good coin, too.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks,” Wesley waved and hurried off before the Guardsman decided to just take them. Call him paranoid, but it happened, right? Also, the man seemed to be all this town had in terms of law and order, so who knew if anyone would even stop him? 

The Market was run by a hatchet-faced young woman who ultimately failed to see the funny side of her name.

“Macy is my name, what of it?” She growled when he inadvertently laughed.

“Sorry,” Wes tried his best smile. “It is just that there is a very famous, uh, Market where I come from called Macy’s.” He saw the smile wasn’t working. “I was just surprised to be reminded of something from back there. It is a hell of a coincidence, is all.”

“Buy, sell, or get lost,” She snapped.

“Sell,” Wesley dropped the smile, trying for cold efficiency. He took out the hide and the teeth, keeping the meat wrapped. Who knew how much the food here would cost?

“Where did you get these?” Macy asked suspiciously. 

“I, uh, looted them from the one that attacked me,” Wesley said, feeling like an idiot for using the word, but what else could he say?

“You killed a Greater Hyena?” She scowled at him. “I’s got a truth stone, I can test you.”

“Go ahead,” Wesley said. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Fine,” She seemed suspicious still. “You must have some class there to get a hyena afore it got you.”

“I’m pretty happy with it so far,” Wes tried.

“Well, if you get any more, I’ll have all I can take. Good hide, see?” She showed him the hide, pulling on it hard enough to make him wince. With no idea what she meant, he just nodded.

“Okay, I’ll give ya fifteen silver for the hide and sixty copper for the teeth,” She said, swiping the items off the table before he could argue. “Next!”

Wesley just sighed, took the money, and headed off to find food and, more urgently, water.

The Village Hall was almost, but not quite, what he would expect. From what he could tell, everyone in the village seemed to eat and sleep right here in one long room. There were occasional dividers up, but he was guessing that privacy was not something the people here valued.

Honestly, it gave him the creeps.

A long trench of fire ran up the center of the room as large pots bubbled over the top. The smell wasn’t unpleasant so much as bland. It was the blandest bland that he had ever heard.

“Keller said you’d be by,” A woman called to him. “I’m Gem.” She held out a hand, and he gave her a closer look as they shook. She was different from the rest of the villagers. Her hair was dark, compared to their blond, and her eyes green compared to their brown. More than that, she was slender compared to their bulky, brawny builds. 

Her clothes were also a lot finer than theirs, actually looking comfortable. Gem was wearing a long dress with a knotted belt, both in a dark grey color. It actually suited her and made her stand out against the off-white and tan clothes of the villagers.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled, “Wesley J. Lancaster.”

“Well, let’s see,” She tapped her red-painted lips with one long finger, “Water will set you back five coppers; a meal is thirty, a bath is expensive, that’s a silver a go, and I’d pretty much guarantee someone steals at least some of your clothes. Those are expensive here as they don’t have a tailor. Ten silver minimum.”

“That seems expensive,” Wesley noted, feeling his coins in his pocket. They suddenly didn’t seem like a lot. 

“Twice what the locals pay,” Gem said plainly. “They don’t like visitors.” She gave him an assessing look. “Tell you what, as you’re new, I’ll spot you a meal and some water on account.” She smiled, “You can work it off by doing a bit of labor here and there.”

“I can pay, but thanks,” Wesley said. “How much to fill this with clean water?” He held up his canteen.

“Fifteen copper,” Gem said, smile vanishing. “I thought you were new to this world?”

“I am,” Wesley said, “But I had an interesting time getting here. Met the wildlife.”

Gem asked what he meant, so while she filled his canteen with water from the well in one corner of the hall, he told her about his encounter with the Hyena. 

Wesley felt like a bit of heel, but he kept his eyes on both the canteen and the water being added to it. You could never be too careful.

When he was done with the story and the canteen was full, he gave Gem the Coppers he had counted out by feel -never show people you don’t trust how much you have- and gave her his thanks.

“Wait one minute,” Gem called. “You might actually be able to help this place out a little.”

“I’m listening,” Wesley said, turning back to her. The last thing he wanted was to help such unfriendly people, but they were his only option right now. 

“Let’s head to my office,” She smiled and led the way out of the hall.

“Welcome to the Delver’s Guild,” Gem called, ducking under the awning of the tent. “What’s wrong?” She asked, seeing him hesitate at the entrance.

“Uh, funny thing,” Wesley said. “Last time I entered a tent, I came out here.”

“Ah,” She laughed. “Well, on the bright side, if it happens again, you will probably be better off.”

Wesley thought about it, but she was probably right about that. Maybe he would even end up back home. So, with a deep breath, he stepped into the tent.

The inside was not exactly a good advertisement for the Delver’s Guild, whatever it was. A cheap wooden table, some weapon racks with nothing on them other than what looked like upgraded farm tools, one sword that had seen better days, and lastly, a noticeboard with some rough paper tacked onto it.

Really, the only thing of note in the entire place was a small black chest with a logo on it in gold. A hammer crossed with a sword.

Gem crossed to the board and plucked a notice from it.

“Nice to get a chance to actually do this,” She laughed. “No one here goes out if they can help it.”

“No passing travelers?” Wes asked.

“You really are new,” She laughed. “People don’t travel, and those of us that do are far above this kind of work.”

“Then why are you here?” He wasn’t just being a smart ass; it was an honest question.

“Accident,” Gem shrugged. “My convoy was lost, and this was the closest place. So here I am until I can get somewhere better.”

“It’s that bad out there?” Wesley asked, his mind flashing back to the eyes in the night.

“You’ll learn if you live long enough,” Gem replied. “In the meantime, how about this one?” She handed him a piece of rough-pressed paper. Surprised by the neat lettering and smooth script, he frowned at the paper.

In English.

“The Requests Board shows all notices in your native language,” Gem explained when he asked about it. “Makes things easier.”

Request:

3x Flat-Horn Deer antlers before change of state.

Reward:

10 Silver.

“Are Flat Horn Deer the ones with the single horn that arcs back and flares out?” Wesley clarified.

“They’re the ones,” Gem replied. “They can be aggressive, but their horns have multiple uses.”

“Do I need to remove the antlers before looting, or will they be a part of it?” Wesley wasn’t sure about anything at this point, so it was worth checking.

“Most often, yes,” Gem replied. “There are two days till the change, so better be quick,” She looked out the tent and sighed. “Now, it is approaching sundown, so you better leave.”

The gate slammed closed behind Wesley the moment he was out of the way, almost catching his pack in the process. He sighed and headed for a small rocky area not too far round the side of the walls. Lancaster’s were planners, or so his Dad always insisted, and he had made a note of it on the way to the village just in case they wouldn’t let him inside. 

Once he got there, he was quite happy with the place. A wide bit of flat stone to camp on, a couple of larger boulders to block the light of his fire from two sides, and it wasn’t too long a walk to get some wood for the fire from the sparse trees nearby. None of the trees were packed closely enough to be hiding anything either, which was a relief. 

He really needed some rest tonight.

Once camp was set up, he got to work on his next task. Food. 

Man, or at least Wesley, can not live on ration bars alone. Not that the idea of Hyena steaks was exactly mouthwatering, but neither was the overpriced food in the village.

He took a deep breath and crossed his fingers as he pulled the string on the steaks. The wax paper fell open with a small pop. Inside were three steaks, all looking and smelling perfect. Or at least, he hoped so. It was not like he was particularly experienced with this kind of thing. He did know that it didn’t smell bad, wasn’t green or grey or other strange coloring, and his stomach was growling in anticipation.

Wes used his bayonet to cut the first steak into strips, which he speared with a stick and carefully hung over the fire. It had to be close enough to cook without the stick catching fire, which took some experimentation.

Next, he tried to wrap the remaining meat back up.

There was no flash of preservation this time, and he sighed. It had been a dim hope anyway.

“Looks like I’m eating well tonight, then,” Wesley grinned and cut the other steaks up. In no time, he had three sticks hanging over the flames, each one dripping blood and fat into the fire, which hissed and cracked. 

The smell was not exactly wonderful, but it sure wasn’t terrible either.

A short while later, he took the first stick off the fire. The meat was charred and crispy on the outside, but there was still a bit of pink in the center.

He gave it a few more minutes, just to be careful.

“Chewy, gamey, and a little peppery,” Wesley thought aloud as he chewed the first bite. “I’ll be honest, I’ve had worse,” He added generously. At least cooking it over the fire had added a pleasant smokiness to the meat. 

All in all, not too bad.

After a long swig from his refilled canteen, Wesley looked around and, seeing no sign of red glowing eyes, crawled into his makeshift tarp tent, pulled his blanket over him, and went to sleep with his head on his pack and the M1 wrapped in his arms.