Eat, Slay, Love: A LitRPG/GameLit Adventure (The Good Guys Book 10)

by Eric Ugland

  I pushed the snowman over and stomped it down.

  Sometimes I hated this place.

  “Your grace!” came a call.

  I looked over to see a young guardsman hurrying my way along the wall.

  “Your presence is requested in the large ballroom!” he said.

  I nodded, and started my trudge back to MountainHome.

  He saluted me and then rushed back.

  Seems like I’d also managed to be late for my very first Homing.

  Thing?

  Fuck.

  Double fuck.

  I needed to find someone smarter.

  55

  I was one of the last people outside to walk into MountainHome, and there was something very ominous in the way the doors shut behind us. But it was amazing to come into the main room on level four. The whole of population of Coggeshall in one massive space. There was such a wide range of peoples. Humans, elves, dwarves, minotaurs, centaurs, battenti, kobolds, ursus, brownies, some I didn’t recognize, and, in one corner near the exit, three massive rolegurdaüdi.

  As I walked into the room, silence spread from the main entrance until it took hold over the entire place. All eyes were on me.

  I gave a little wave and walked along until I got to the raised dais and the long rectangular table with one very obvious open chair dead center. Nikolai was on my right, Skeld to my left. The rest of my hirð surrounded them. The Northwoods sat at a table nearby, but not on the dais.

  “Do I say anything?” I whispered to Nikolai.

  He looked confused. “Of course.”

  “Specific things for the Homing?”

  “Yes,” Nikolai hissed, standing up and turning his back on the rest of the room so he could get a little privacy. “You need to make sure it seems like a home. As if welcoming family home to a family meal. Act as if this is your home.”

  “Got it,” I said with a wink.

  I turned around to face my holding and shot my arms up into a V.

  “Welcome home!” I shouted.

  Smiles and surprise rippled through the audience.

  “Hopefully you all know me,” I continued, still going loud, “Montana, Duke of Coggeshall. This is MountainHome. Which is our home. All of ours. The home we have pulled out of this damn mountain ourselves. No one built this for us. No one gave it to us — we came here, and we took it. We earned this place, and it is ours. Our home. And I, for one, love my home.”

  Someone in the audience — I think it was Harmut — shouted back, “I love my home!”

  Then another.

  Then a third and a fourth, and it spread quickly until everyone was shouting about loving their home.

  I let it go for a moment, then held up my hands to quiet it down.

  “Tonight,” I said, “It doesn’t matter how long you have been here, because now you are home. You are safe. You are family. We face Fiends’ Night, right? We have some bad hombres coming here? Thinking they can come into our house? No one comes into our house unless we want them. And tonight, we want family here. Tonight is family night. You know what? Fuck Fiends’ Night, it’s Family Night. You are all my family and no one is coming into our house to push us around and make us feel unsafe. You all know what I can do, and you’ve proven what we can all do together. Tonight, celebrate. Tonight, we eat some good food, we get some good sleep. Tonight, in our house, in our home, nothing but goodness is happening. No one is coming into our house—”

  I felt a hand on my arm and glanced down to see Skeld giving me some wide eyes and making a definite ‘tone-it-down’ motion.

  “No one is coming into our home,” I continued, “to push us around. Welcome home, eat up, and be family!”

  I snatched my goblet off the table and raised it into the air.

  “To being home!” I shouted.

  Thousands of glasses, goblets, mugs, and other vessels were lifted into the air. And basically as one, over five-thousand voices shouted, “Home!”

  I drank.

  Everyone else drank.

  “Let’s eat!” I said, and sat down.

  “Bit much there,” Nikolai said.

  “I liked it,” Ragnar said.

  “Usually a ‘this is home’ is enough to handle things,” Nikolai continued whining.

  “My first time,” I said. “I got into it.”

  “I thought it worked very well,” Bear said.

  The kitchen staff had their own table near one of the doors, and while they’d been in place for the toast, they had stepped outside to help get everything in place for the feast. Prinkies moved through the room carrying large tureens and dropping them off at each table. Family-style dining. At my insistence, they served our table last, which both Ragnar and Skeld made sure I knew they thought was stupid.

  Finally, though, our food arrived. A large plate heaped with grilled meat. A punch bowl of mashed potatoes. Bowls of greens. Plates of fish. It was a lot of food. We were most certainly making a statement as to how much food we had on hand, offering our people everything they could hope to eat, and more. I hoped we weren’t going overboard. Too late to change that.

  I glanced over at the rolegurdaüdi, and saw Timurlan and his husband sitting with them. They did some interesting miming to get the three monstrous creatures to eat with utensils. Oversized utensils, sure, but still.

  “Have we—” I started.

  Nikolai, whose mouth was full of food, just shook his head. “No business at dinner,” he said as bits of potato flew out across the table.

  “Ew,” Bear said.

  I sighed, and dug in.

  The food was tasty. If I didn’t know the unbelievable steak was probably a fresh cut of worm, I’d have said it was the best steak I’d ever had. Tender with plenty of beef flavor, and so much fat that it was just juicy goodness. But then I’d remember the worm thing, and I’d feel a little rumbly in my tumbly and eat some potatoes. Then I’d forget about the worm thing and eat some more steak, and repeat as necessary until I had eaten my fill. I drank a few mugs of mead, ate plenty of greens, some fruit, all that good stuff.

  “Is this it?” I said. “Are we a home?”

  “Probably,” Nikolai said. “Though we will continue through a few more rituals and traditions just to ensure such status is a surety.”

  “Oh, right. Gifts.”

  He nodded and then raised his hand.

  The doors to the room opened once again, and prinkies swarmed inside. They passed out small gifts to every person, little tiny wrapped presents containing a gold coin and a trinket of some kind. A nice arrowhead. A carved piece of stone. A single jewel. Lee had basically gone through the treasury, meaning all the crap I’d collected, and he’d picked out five thousand items of limited value that were gift-able. Then, a bunch of prinkies wrapped everything up nicely.

  Then came the toys the brownies made. Lots of dolls, wooden horses that clip clopped as you pulled them, tops, balls, that sort of stuff. All wrapped up neatly with colorful paper, ribbons, and bows. The kids in the holding managed to get two presents each.

  There were some squeals of joy, from both parents and children, as they opened the presents.

  I got a present as well, and opened it up to see that someone had given me one of my golden coins back.

  Nikolai got a surprisingly large present — at least it would be surprising if you didn’t know what was in it. It was a very nice wooden box filled to the absolute brim with shiny pebbles.

  Nikolai was not amused, and he dumped the pebbles into my lap.

  I summoned a few prinkies, and got them to work picking up all the pebbles and transporting them directly to Nikolai’s bed.

  “You bastard,” Nikolai seethed.

  “You could have just accepted the gift,” I countered. “Instead, you chose war. I wonder if that will come back to bite you in the ass? Or, you know, make your night a little less comfortable when you find you’ve sleep-wedged a pebble into your ass?”

  “I request to resign.”

&
nbsp; “Denied.”

  He sighed, emptying his goblet of wine. Then he signaled for another.

  A wine prinky waddled over and filled the goblet to the brim.

  “You need to teach them how to pour,” Nikolai said, delicately alternating between sipping and balancing his goblet.

  “I did,” I said.

  “One of these days I need you to explain, carefully, how you could come from—”

  I put my hand on his mouth, and he looked over at me, his eyes moving just a little behind where his head moved. A clear sign he was drunk.

  “Not a topic for the family table,” I said.

  He blinked, “Right, sorry. The wine.”

  “I get it,” I said. “Might want to get a nap in soon.”

  “In my stone-filled bed?”

  “They’re pebbles?”

  “I’m remembering why I needed all that wine.”

  I winked.

  What I needed was to talk to Lee about Thing. And about everything, really. Lee was one of the smartest people I’d met, and I knew he couldn’t be involved in all the various shit happening around Coggeshall. He was on my side, and he’d be able to help me. But not only was he at a different table, hanging out with Harmut, Essie, and Mercy, like I’d just told Nikolai, this wasn’t the venue for such a talk.

  “You seem uptight,” a voice said from behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Marguerite standing there, a small crystal flute in her hand filled with a bubbling beverage.

  “It’s a rather, um, yes. I guess I am right now,” I said.

  “The hard part is over,” she said. “Just have to enjoy the night now.”

  “Uh, I suppose that’s true. Just—”

  “I would appreciate a dance or two,” she said, suggestively.

  “That could be possible, just—”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said with a wink.

  “Actually—” I tried to say, but she’d already gone.

  “Smooth as always, boss,” Skeld said.

  I really wanted to make some joke about brownie batter, but I just couldn’t come up with something in time.

  Following the gifts, we had cake. It reminded me of a birthday party, which was fun. People were loosening up and moving around, talking with each other. Some group drinking game started up, and led to rounds of raucous laughter when a dwarf fell out of his chair.

  After a moment, I realized only Nikolai and I were at the table.

  I snuck my flask out and filled my goblet with root beer.

  A sip of the good stuff settled some nerves.

  “Now what?” I said.

  “Sleep,” Nikolai said.

  He wasn’t quite slurring, but he was drunk. It was odd to see him like that. Mainly because I’d never seen him drunk. Or out of control, really.

  “This is the one night where I can’t really help you,” he said, somehow still able to read my mind while intoxicated. “So I will drink, and then I will sleep.”

  He stood up, a little wobbly, reaching out quickly for the table to steady himself.

  I summoned prinkies to act as a guide for him.

  He pushed one away violently, which ruined his balance.

  I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back upright.

  “Might need those prinkies,” he admitted.

  “That’s what they’re there for,” I said.

  The prinkies went back and stood on either side, and Nikolai used them to slowly walk down the stairs off of the dais.

  I thought very hard about going with him, but it seemed like overkill.

  Instead, I tipped my goblet back and drank all that glorious root beer down. Then I went to mingle with my people.

  56

  It didn’t take long for the party to go off the rails, but that’s basically inevitable when there’s an open bar. When I overheard someone proclaiming they could take me in a bare-knuckles fight, I saw the writing on the wall and got my butt out of there. I could only see bad things happening if I was drunk or accosted by someone who was drunk. Nightmare scenarios of me accidentally punching through someone’s face.

  So instead, I went on a quick patrol, heading down to see the main doors first. They were closed and locked. Four guards were standing in front of them, blocking any access.

  “Everything okay here?” I asked.

  The guards nodded.

  “Yes, your grace,” one said.

  “Did you get food and—”

  “Yes, your grace. We are ready for tonight.”

  “Excellent. Guard on. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Commander Glaton has us well-prepared.”

  I smiled, feeling completely useless, and continued my patrol.

  It was the same story at each point of entry. The guards were not only ready, but slightly annoyed at me for butting in. Which in hindsight, I could understand, since it was kind of like their boss’s boss coming around. So I stopped and went up to my room.

  Darius was there with the egg, laying in his hammock and reading a book.

  “Did you—” I started.

  “I ate, yes,” Darius said quickly. “It is, I am, crowds are not my favorite thing.”

  Two other minotaurs were standing in my room, in front of the two doors to my balcony.

  “Anyone outside?” I asked.

  “No, your grace,” they said. “We are positioned inside.”

  I nodded, then paced back and forth before dropping to sit next to the egg. Which meant I was somewhat under Darius.

  He looked down at me with one eye, his other eye on his book. A neat trick.

  “What do you know about the egg?” I asked. “Can I look at it?”

  He tilted his head a little.

  “It is your egg, Montana,” he replied. “Of course you can. You can do whatever you’d like.”

  “It won’t hurt it?”

  “I doubt it. I’m keeping it warm in the blanket. I think it needs that, but, I mean, I’m not aware of any particulars.”

  I peeled back the blanket and revealed the egg.

  “Looks a bit different,” I said.

  “The outer shell has changed appearance a few times,” Darius said. “Before you ask why, I can’t tell you.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I whispered.

  “I’d prefer not, but you’re the duke. So, you can do what you like.”

  “I’m not that kind of duke.”

  “I imagine they all say that.”

  “How many dukes have you met?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “What? Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Am I like any of them?”

  “In certain ways.”

  “Like?”

  “Proclivity towards violence. Overconfidence. Male.”

  “Have you met duchesses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any of them male?”

  “No.” He smiled. “Male thing was a joke.”

  I shook my head, smiling. “Good joke.”

  “I have a poor sense of humor.”

  “Apparently I do as well.”

  “Maybe we’ll get along.”

  “I’d like to.”

  “I appreciate the effort. I am not very good with people.”

  “You seem good with Lee.”

  “It is more that Lee is good with me. Or everyone.”

  “Lee is good with everyone. It’s annoying.”

  Darius smiled and nodded. “I agree. When we were part of the caravan together, he’d have to negotiate food rates after I wrecked them. Cleeve finally banned me from talking to anyone before Lee had. I wish you had had more time with us before — well, you know.”

  “Things went to shit?”

  “No, things have wound up mostly okay. It was just a smaller world then, and I preferred it that way.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Hardly your fault.”

  “Seems like it is, though.”

>   “Because that’s the lens you see it through. Nikolai is good at making you feel it’s all your fault, I bet.”

  “What was he like before...?”

  Darius took a deep breath. He started a few different sentences before just shaking his head.

  “I’d like to say he was different, but I don’t think he was. Not that much, at least. He was more active, for sure. More robust. But he was still very angry. Bitter about things. Cleeve was, well, I mean, Cleeve was the sugar and Nikolai was the fist.”

  “Not sure I know what sugar and fist means.”

  “It means you think everything is going to be okay, and then Nikolai punches you in the face.”

  “Not exactly the most vivid analogy,” I said, “but I get what you mean.”

  “Nikolai always seemed equally bad and good. At everything. He’d save us one minute, and we’d be in trouble the next. Both because of him. And only sometimes would he be saving us from the holes he dug for us. Whereas Cleeve at least got us out of what he got us in.”

  “Do you think he’s a bad chancellor?”

  “I don’t know what a good chancellor is, so, no idea. Maybe. But he also seems to keep things running and knows more about the government than anyone else here. So, maybe he’s good. Maybe it’s good for a chancellor to be a miserable asshole.”

  “He’s certainly got that market cornered.”

  “You don’t help much,” Darius said.

  “What?”

  “With Nikolai being a grumpy bastard. I know you’re teasing and stuff, but it gets to him. I don’t really think he understands how to roll with it the way you do. Or me. I don’t think he had that kind of friends group or something. So I think it just makes him a bit more of a dick.”

  “So I should stop with the pebbles and the prinkies?”

  “I would. Are you really tied to teasing him?”

  “I keep hoping it will break him out of whatever funk he’s in.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be working.”

  “True,” I said, nodding.

  The egg had overlapping black scale-like things, about the size of my palm, all over the whole thing, with little gold bumps in the middle of each scale. Out toward the edges of the scales, they had an iridescent sheen. And while I could see the edges of the scales, when I ran my hand over it, I couldn’t feel any separation. It was completely smooth. And warm. Which was disconcerting to me, a city boy who assumes that eggs should always be cold. And in the fridge. But this egg felt alive. And I felt weird about it.