New Story -- Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Thade swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

That simple action turned out to be a mistake as he immediately stumbled forward and face-planted into the adjacent wall when he moved too quickly to stop himself. Thankfully, a quick cast of Weak Regeneration was all it took to heal the 1 point of damage he had inflicted on his face, and he was able to recover and stand up, trying to figure out what had happened.

“Ha, that’s right – I increased my physical stats.” With an additional 2 points in his Physicality and Celerity, he was both apparently stronger and faster, though he hadn’t expected it to be so dramatic.

It turned out that it really wasn’t that significant of a difference once he started walking around in his room. His muscles felt looser and had a bit more strength to him, and he thought he could walk a bit longer than he did the day before without falling down exhausted, but it wasn’t like he was suddenly going to lift a car or race in the Olympics – or whatever equivalent there was to those two things here in the world of Tarth.

When he eventually accustomed himself to his new stats, he left his room, taking the pouch of coins with him as his only possession other than the new clothes he’d been gifted the day before, and headed downstairs. Once he got there and looked outside the cloudy glass windows, he thought the sun was a little higher than would be normal for morning, so he supposed that he had stayed up in his room much longer than expected.

“Hey, #32599999-E, are you finally out of your room now? We have to clean it after your nasty body was all over it, and I can’t be waiting all day. Plus, you completely missed breakfast and—what the? Weren’t you Level 1 last night? How—?”

Thaden looked around to see the Town Guard’s daughter, Varla, standing behind the bar with a perplexed expression on her face – which was probably matched by his own.

#32599999-E? Is that what she sees when she looks at me?

He knew that was what his Character Report said at the top instead of his name, but he didn’t realize that it translated to what people saw when they looked at him. Come to think of it, Virlo asked me who I was when he saw me outside the town walls, and I didn’t even think of it before then. Thaden supposed that the fact that his name and Level might be displayed above his head just like it did with everyone else he saw hadn’t occurred to him, but it obviously did; he just didn’t think that the glitch would be reflected on that, too. I guess Virlo didn’t want to call me that and instead went with whatever nickname I provided, which just so happened to be my real name.

“You can call me Thaden, by the way. And as far as my Level, I just hadn’t had a free moment to Level-up, I guess,” he explained with a shrug, not wanting to go into it all, before walking over to the orange-skinned woman with three eyes tending the bar. “I’m very sorry I missed breakfast; it’s completely my fault for sleeping in, and I hope you’ll forgive me for my tardiness. If you would be so kind, I can smell something absolutely delicious cooking in the back there, and would love to sample some of it before I waste away from hunger.”

Thaden had to keep his face from shifting from the pleasant-looking expression to one of astonishment at his own words coming out of his mouth. He hadn’t necessarily meant to say all of that, as he was intending to ignore his lateness and simply ask for something to eat, but at the last moment something told him to shift his words slightly into something a bit more self-deprecating and flattering toward the Charee’s cooking. Is this what Personality does for me? Unlike in games and stories where a Charisma or Charm mechanic automatically made others fall over themselves in order to please the person who had such a high stat, it seemed as though Personality subtly steered his interactions with others so that they were seen in a more positive light.

Or at least he assumed so, because it didn’t work in the least when speaking to the owner of the Cracked Cup Inn.

“I don’t believe you in the slightest, nor do your words make you any more desirable to have here in my Inn,” she said with a sneer on her lips. Thaden was taken aback at how vitriolic her entire attitude was toward him, and he had no idea why she was like that toward him. He was about to ask, but she continued before he could get a word out. “I’ll get you some of the stew we have for lunch, but I want you gone afterwards. This fulfills my obligations to my father, but I don’t have to do anything more and I refuse to have trashsuch as you in my Inn any longer than that.” She was practically hyperventilating in anger as she stared at him, as if daring him to say something that would make her not have to serve him, but he kept his mouth shut.

When he didn’t say anything after nearly 30 seconds, she turned around and headed into the back, likely to get him some food—is she going to spit in it?—and Thaden, shocked at the vehemence of her impassioned hate speech, looked around the common room of the Inn. He hadn’t noticed before since he was distracted almost immediately after coming down, but there were a handful of Charee sitting at various tables, eating lunch from the looks of it, and the expressions on there faces as they looked back at him told Thaden that they likely felt the same way as the owner of the Inn.

He tried to think of what it could be about him that made him the target of their obvious disgust and dislike. Was it his obvious lack of fine clothing? Lack of funds? Was his hair sticking up in odd directions? (That could certainly be correct, given that he hadn’t exactly checked in a mirror to see if he was looking like he just rolled out of bed.) Or were they just extremely racist? He was half expecting one of them to walk up to the bar where he was seated and say, “We don’t take kindly to your sort up in here,” in a thick southern drawl like he'd seen stereotyped on TV and movies.

Fortunately, none of them did that, though he could practically feel their hatred as they stared at his back, like an itch that he couldn’t scratch. The Assistant Healer belatedly realized that they might be reacting to the fact that he’d activated his new Minor Repulsion Field almost immediately after getting up from bed, entirely as a measure of safety. Thaden had to admit that it felt good having it active, even if it acted like a security blanket for a young toddler, but there was no way he was going to turn it off now with everyone looking at him like they were.

The stew and warm hunk of bread was surprisingly delicious when it arrived not that long after – and he didn’t think there was any spit in it, either! He absolutely devoured every little bit of what he was served, filling him up satisfactorily, though he felt stuffed at the end because his stomach still hadn’t gown much larger than the night before. Still, he was willing to put up with the bloated feeling if it meant he could go a little longer without eating, because he wasn’t sure where the next meal would come from at this point. He was a little wary of how the town would react to his presence and refuse to serve him; would they act the same as the Inn’s owner, or would they be at least a little courteous, such as how the Town Guard had. It was been more businesslike and admonishing more than friendly, of course, but it was at least better than this hostility he was suffering from these individuals in the Inn.

“Thank you so much; it was delicious. I’ll be moving on, then,” Thaden told Varla with a nod, getting up from the wooden barstool he was sitting on and quickly moved out the front doors. He was originally going to look at his Advancements for his Defensive Spellcasting Competency while he ate, but decided that the longer her tarried, the more an incident of some kind might happen – and he’d rather not be involved in any incidents right now.

Before too long, he was outside and enjoying the lack of judgmental stares aimed at him from those people, and he stretched his arms above his head with a few cracks in his joints as the sun warmed him from almost straight upward. Looking around, he vaguely remembered what the town had looked like the night before, but now that he wasn’t completely exhausted and starving, he was able to see it with a clearer head. Or more accurately, he was able to see the townsfolk better – and their reactions to seeing him out in the street.

While he saw more than a few of them with expressions of disgust on their faces similar to what he’d experienced inside the Inn, most of them simply had no particular reaction to his presence other than curiosity. Good to know that they’re not all racist. It was to one of these that he approached, an elderly Charee that was selling clothes in a riot of colors out of a small stall, and asked if she knew where he could find the Adventurer Coalition in town. He realized that he didn’t know where it – or really anything – was in Ashcleft, mainly because the night before when he arrived was a bit of a blur to him now.

Walking up to her, he read the description above her head.

Granlee

Charee

Level 4

Unlike the Town Guard and the owner of the Inn, there was no indication of a title or profession listed for Granlee, which he realized was similar to almost all of the other people he had seen on the street. Most of them also ranged from Levels 3 to 8, which seemed strange considering that the Guard had been Level 45.

“Ah, I see that the clothing Virlo wanted from me fits you quite well,” the woman said, smiling at him with a friendliness that was refreshing after his experiences thus far with the people in this town.

Thaden looked down at his clothes, nodding. “They do, and I thank you for them. How much do I owe you?” he asked, not wanting the only friendly Charee in town to be out some money.

“Nothing, young man; the Town Guard have a discretionary fund that they can use for things like this, so it’s already been taken care of.”

He smiled back at her. “That’s great to hear, and I certainly do appreciate the help. Speaking of help, I was wondering if you could tell me where the Adventurer Coalition is located? Virlo mentioned it last night—”

The woman’s friendly expression changed almost immediately upon his mention of the Adventurer Coalition, and she frowned at him before interrupting. “Go down that street and turn right,” she said, pointing to her left without looking. “You can’t miss it.”

He couldn’t help it now; he had to ask. “Why the sudden change? What does the Coalition have to do with anything?”

“Because that blasted organization has lured too many good Charee to their deaths, and all for nothing,” she replied with venom dripping from her words. “It’s meant for Contenders, not our youth wanting to prove themselves stronger than their friends, which means they end up dead sooner rather than later. Those trash should be direct their efforts elsewhere and stay out of Ashcleft if they know what’s good for them.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his increased Mentality or he simply happened to put it all together, but the mention of the word “trash” reminded him of what Varla had called him – and it suddenly all made sense. These people, the Charee, weren’t necessarily racists who didn’t like people that didn’t look like them; they were bigots who didn’t like people who joined the Adventurer Coalition.

Did that Town Guard know what he was doing when he told me to join? Was he just trying to get rid of me because the people who joined it tended to die quickly?

Despite her obvious dislike of the Coalition, he still thanked her for her help and hurried off, only looking back once to see Granlee staring at him with what he could only assume was disappointment on her face. Trying not to let her opinion sway him too much, he followed her instructions and walked down the street she had indicated, before turning left.

She was right – he couldn’t miss it. Prominently displayed in the middle of what looked like a roundabout was a large building that appeared different from the others in town, as it was made from white marble or granite, complete with columns carved into its outer walls like some sort of old Roman landmark. It was also gaudily decorated with accents of gold that made the entire thing appear like some newly rich billionaire with no taste had wanted something to show off their wealth. As he approached it, he realized it was even worse than that, as stone the building was created from wasn’t expensive marble or even fancy granite, but a common-looking stone that had been painted to look like it was more impressive than it was, and the gold accents was actually some sort of gold-colored paint that was already flaking off in places.

It was like a cheap imitation of what someone with wealth and no taste would design and build, and he began to wonder what exactly he was getting into here.

Still, he only hesitated for a second or two before he continued on up the short stone stairway up to the entrance of the Adventurer Coalition building, which had a huge sign above its doors that was, again, in no language that Thaden knew, but could read anyway. He wasn’t entirely set on joining the Coalition, but as it was his best chance to earn some money, he figured he would at least see what it had to offer. He also hoped that it had the potential to help him become stronger, because after seeing what he had earned after his harrowing experience in the Vogmite Tunnels, he couldn’t help but wonder what he would earn next. The thrill of increasing his Level and earning rewards was addictive, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that – now that he wasn’t running scared for his life and had a better grasp on this world he was in – he wanted to get as strong as possible so that he didn’t have to worry about anything eating him ever again.

That sounds weird in my head, but I guess it’s true.

Pushing through the heavy, arched wooden double doors that led into the faux marble Adventurer Coalition building, he expected to find a bustling environment filled with a variety of ragtag, hard-bitten scoundrels and mercenaries, where mysterious strangers were common in dark corners, and rowdy barbarians drunkenly sung bawdy songs while slamming their mugs onto the table – or into a fellow Adventurer’s face who looked at them funny. It was what all the stories and games he’d read or played indicated was what he should expect in a place like this…

…but the reality of this new world was entirely different. Instead of walking into a bustling common room filled with people, he was presented with a remarkably well-lit, open room with comfortable-looking couches, small coffee tables, and décor that could only be described as “delicate nonsense”. In other words, it looked like the reception area of an upscale hotel, though the finer details were lacking in sophistication and quality – just like the painted stone on the exterior. The cushions on the couches were stained and threadbare, nearly falling apart in places, and were all different designs to boot, making them look like someone went shopping at a thrift store and put all the furniture they picked up inside the room without fixing them up in the least.

It was like whoever had designed and filled this place had wanted to design something that might be familiar to the people of Earth, but it fell flat in its execution. Thinking about what the old woman had said that it was largely designed for Contenders to become a part of, he could see the intent behind it, even if it didn’t really make him feel more comfortable seeing it all. Instead, as he looked over at one side of the large room and saw a small bar area that was blended (unsuccessfully) with a French café, he just felt like some voyeur had peeked into the world of Earth and attempted to recreate little parts of it. The whole place made him feel a little dirty, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be there anymore.

He was contemplating turning around immediately when a voice called out from somewhere in the back of the room. It took him a few seconds for him to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, but it was easy enough because he was the only other person in the entire building, it seemed.

“Hello, friend! Please tell me you’d like to join the Adventurer Coalition!”

Thaden sighed as he looked at the smiling and enthusiastic-looking Charee behind a desk absolutely filled with messy stacks of papers. Behind him was a large cork board with hundreds of tiny slips of paper pinned to its face, with a large sign above it that said, “Quest Board” in big, unfamiliar squiggles.

The man’s smile only got wider as he approached, like a con artist whose mark has fallen into his trap.

Well, at least he seems friendly enough; better than the reactions I’ve had from everyone else in this town. He figured he might as well here the spiel before he made a decision.