The Birth

by Paul Kite

  “I’ve talked to Eran,” the jeweler said happily, “and persuaded him to let you stay in this house for another three days.”

  “Wow!” I managed to squeeze out and again fell back on the soft and comfortable bed.

  Why do I feel so bad?! It’s just like in reality. I remembered the only evening I had gotten drunk with friends, after winning one of the first flyer races, even before I had met Kiera.

  “Oh, forgive me, I’m such an old fool,” Grandpa said sympathetically, “I gave you too much alcohol. But I will cook something that will help you in a moment.”

  The old man left the room, I heard the noise of the closing door.

  I hoped he’d also bring something to eat.

  I wanted to fall asleep again and forget everything, but couldn’t. Stupid thoughts began to creep into my head. Actually... Maybe they aren’t so stupid.

  All the NPCs think I'm a noble gentleman. And no one understands that I’m a player (but I think that’s only until I die before their eyes and then return alive and healthy after my rebirth). But why? As far as I know, regardless of the external appearance of the character, NPCs have always been able to differentiate us from other people. But they treat me like a local. In general, this is good for me, unless, of course, I meet those people from yesterday.

  Grandpa, on his own initiative, helped me with my temporary shelter, and... sometime in the future, I will be able to thank him with more than just words. And now, more importantly, I can safely go to the city and finally do the quests there. And in the evening, I will return to Eran's house, where I will find shelter and food. I'll be able to earn money and pump up my characteristics in three days, won't I?

  The creak of a door being opened and Grandpa entered the room with a glass of some strange, murky liquid in one hand and a bowl of steaming food in the other.

  “Drink!” he gave me the glass, “do it in one gulp. And then eat the fresh porridge.” He put the bowl on the table beside the bed.

  “Thank you!” I answered heartily. And I immediately made myself a vow to not drink anymore. The tincture, even if a cure, was- ugh, gross!

  After waiting until the eruption of the volcano in my stomach calmed down, I quickly ate the porridge, to the last crumb.

  “I took the second key from the owner for a while,” Grandpa put it next to me on the bed. “If you're going out, close the door behind you, okay? I have to go, I was wondering when you’d wake up,” the old man smiled good-naturedly, “Or do you want to come with me?”

  “I better rest,” I refused.

  “Okay,” Grandpa shrugged his shoulders and taking one of the empty bags, left the room.

  After an hour, I finally found the strength to get up and go to town in search of quests, but not before I opened my character screen and added two of the three points in agility and one in strength.

  I needed serious and difficult tasks, in which I will not only run but also fight, think and work out physically. It was the only way I could improve the stat points without the use of free points.

  It's not right for me to take a letter or convey a message, and other small tasks that take a lot of time and give only a little experience and money, and I have already refused such proposals. I wonder why yesterday no one cared about me at all? And today I was in great demand, and only after thirty minutes of a leisurely walk!

  “Young man!” a squeaky voice called out to me, “Can you help an old lady out?”

  I had just gone to the shopping area of the city, and at that moment was passing a small and quite cozy one-story area. There were fences all around, and a blooming and well-kept garden was in front of each of them. An old lady had been working in one of the gardens before she noticed me. Well, there was no one nearby except for me.

  I hoped this wasn't some bullshit. At first, I wanted to pretend I hadn’t heard her and just get out of the old woman's sight, but then I changed my mind and decided to listen to her first.

  “Of course!” I exclaimed while approaching the gate. “But first tell me what’s happened?”

  “Oh, my dear,” a short, well-dressed old woman opened the gate, letting me enter the garden. “Let's go inside, I'm tired. We'll have a cup of tea and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Okay,” I agreed to the offer.

  We went into the house, then into the living room, where the old woman sat me down at a large, empty table standing in the center; asked me to wait for a bit and went to the kitchen.

  “Hey!” the old lady cried, rattling the dishes, “Do you like sweet or meat pies?”

  “With meat!” I responded immediately, “But I’ll only have a little.” I didn’t want to seem greedy and ask for a lot of food, although I didn’t have much of it.

  The old lady came back fifteen minutes later. She brought a samovar with a kettle and two cups, along with a tray of pies covered with a towel.

  “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself!” the old woman suddenly said, while pouring tea into the cups. “My name is Profya. What's your name, my dear?”

  “Kraven,” I replied, taking the cup from her and disregarding a message about my reputation with the NPC Profya now being at the level of Respect.

  “What a strange name for a noble,” the old woman shook her head in surprise, “but that's your own business…”

  Is she joking? I asked mentally. This was my second time hearing this! Grandpa had thought my name was weird, too.

  “Well, my husband’s lost,” the old woman looked at me as if fearing that I would suddenly get up and leave. “He went to the market to get food and hasn't returned yet. He's been gone for two days,” she sighed sorrowfully.

  “Have you told the guards?” I asked, taking a pie from the tray.

  I'm curious, am I the first to whom Profya has offered this task?

  “The Guard knows. What's the use? They searched but found no traces of him. And no one’s seen my husband at the market.

  “That's strange,” I said, chewing.

  “They said the same,” the old woman started worrying for some reason. “They blamed me, saying I had killed him myself and had hidden the corpse.” Tears appeared in Profya’s eyes.

  “Oh dear, please, stop crying!” Without thinking about how this was a game, I jumped up and ran to the old woman, put my arm around her shoulders and tried to calm her down. “Please, don’t cry! That's just the job of the guards. They suspect everyone and everything. Don’t worry about it so much.”

  “Oh, son,” the old woman could not help sobbing. “Why would I kill him? We’ve spent sixty years side by side! Always together, wherever life took us and didn’t even argue. Only very rarely. And, can you imagine, he was never abusive. He was strict but good and kind ...

  Soon Profya calmed down and continued her story, and I pushed my chair closer and sat next to her.

  “At first, I thought about asking one of those fussy people. I often saw them scurrying around the city.” She was talking about the players, I guessed. “But I heard they could quarrel with me, or refuse, or even try to steal something from my house, if I invite them in. Thank God, I’ve met you. And, you know, my heart immediately told me - he will help you for sure, he is a kind and sympathetic man.”

  I don’t understand, does she mean that I am like a local, an NPC? Or has she distinguished me from other players somehow?

  “And what is your husband's name?” I asked, as she had forgotten to mention it.

  “Aksey,” Profya sighed. “Kraven, will you help me?” Taking my hands, the old woman looked at me with tears in her eyes.

  Mission available: Help Profya - part 1: find traces of or those who have seen Aksey.

  Reward if the entire mission chain is done: unknown.

  Refusal of the mission: your reputation with this NPC will go down to ‘Dislike’.

  Accept Refuse?

  Of course, accept!

  If there were no system messages, the world would be indistinguishable from the real one!

  �
�Well, my dear,” the old lady rose from her chair vigorously and beckoned me with her hand, “before you go anywhere, let me give you normal clothes. You look like a poor man.”

  I just managed to grab another pie. They were very delicious! When I’d been a child, my grandmother had cooked the same.

  Profya led me to a large bedroom and took neatly folded things out of the wardrobe.

  “Here you are! The clothes are old but clean, my husband didn’t want to throw them away. They’re a reminder that he was once just a simple soldier in the army of the kingdom.”

  Wow! And what is he now? Even if he’s retired.

  “Change your clothes there,” she waved at the door next to the wardrobe, “and you'll also be able to look at yourself in the mirror there. You’ll feel the difference!”

  I took the offered clothes and went inside, finding myself in a small room with a large mirror in a wooden frame, attached to a movable platform on wheels.

  Of course, I'll change my clothes, but first, I will satisfy my curiosity. Especially since this isn’t the first time I’ve dreamed of seeing what appearance the system’s given me. But I haven’t had the opportunity yet.

  Well, I was looking at a middle-aged man of about thirty, with an aristocratic face, shoulder-length black hair, and dark brown eyes. Cool! I like it. Only the age, in my opinion… was a bit too much. But I am very similar to this noble. A real representative of blue blood! That’s interesting, has the game system given me a story according to my appearance? This feels like some dirty trick just waiting to happen. All right, I'll worry about it later!

  I quickly threw off what I was wearing and put on Aksey's gray-brown clothes.

  “Indeed, this is much better,” I whirled in front of the mirror. “I look like a man, at least. More precisely, like a veteran soldier of the Nazhar kingdom’s army.

  It's a pity that these were only simple clothes, without additional characteristics.

  “You’ve dressed already, haven’t you,” the old lady went into the room. “And I brought you a weapon. It’s not good for a noble man to walk around without one. And when you find my husband, I just hope he’s alive, show it to him. He’ll understand that it was me who sent you.”

  Profya handed me a long dagger in a simple leather sheath, which I immediately attached to my waistband, using a special sling. I'll look at what characteristics it has later.

  “Thank you, dear.”

  “Thank you, son, for not refusing to help this old woman,” Profya smiled.

  “And where is this market, to where Aksey went?” I asked.

  “It’s straight down the street, turn right at the end, and then it’s just a hundred steps until you find it.” The old woman explained. “It’s noisy, with a lot of people and guards. Be careful with the local thieves! Admittedly, you don’t have any money, since you were so poorly dressed. But still, they could steal the dagger from you.”

  ‘Okay, thanks a lot.”

  “I'll throw away your old clothes, you don’t need them,” she said, as I looked thoughtfully at my old things.

  “Okay. I’ll leave now”

  “Go, son, go,” Profya said, wrapping my old garments up into a ball.

  Going out into the street, I took out the dagger and looked at its characteristics.

  Weapon: Dagger-awarded to officer Aksey of the army of the Nazhar Kingdom

  Quality: Good

  Material: Steel

  Damage: 10-15

  Imposed permanent spells: none, imposing is impossible

  Imposed temporary spells: none, imposing is impossible

  Level restrictions: none

  Class restrictions: none

  Additional restrictions: Profya's gift-officer Aksey's wife-impossible to sell

  Wow! It’s very good to have such a weapon while only being level 2!

  All weapons and items in the game had their own property–Quality.

  It could be good, great, flawless, epic or legendary. The quality mainly depends on the material it was made from and the number and strength of the superimposed permanent and temporary spells. Metal can be ordinary steel, lunar silver, Mithril and, finally, the most expensive and extremely rare–adamantium. The quality of weapons which are made from wood depends on the sort of wood they’re made from. The quality of skin depends on the animal whose skin was used, and so on. There are also exceptions to these rules. One item made from bones, horns and other things could be weaker than the simplest bow, sword or axe, but another could surpass even adamantium weapons.

  After closing the description, I went along the route specified by Profya.

  It was easy to follow. I stopped about a hundred yards away from the first covered counters, where the market began. It was huge, designed for dozens or even hundreds of outlets, both player-owned and local.

  A guard squad of five men, dressed in glittering silver armor and each with a Nazhar Kingdom emblem in the form of a Golden Crown on his chest, were leaving the market at a leisurely pace. Their chief, wearing a helmet with a black crest, looked at me suspiciously.

  Hmm, maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this? I asked myself, jumping aside nimbly and letting the group of children pass. I'm gonna have a hard time finding Aksey.

  Every second seller was offering a variety of food. There weren’t only representatives of the human race, either: elves, light and dark, somehow managed to coexist next to each other; and gnomes, arguing about something with kobolds, who sold some mushrooms. There were even druids. What variety! I wouldn't be surprised to see orcs, trolls or ogres.

  “Well aren’t you a handsome gentleman,” a pretty young girl in a revealing outfit said and grabbed my hand. “Do you want to spend an unforgettable night? I’ll give you a good price, I assure you.”

  Wow, there are women like that here, too.

  “No, thank you,” I freed myself and hurried to refuse. “Not today, sorry.”

  Does she offer her services to underage players? I'm a little over twenty-one. In the game, the opportunity to go with someone to a private room or the House of Pleasure is given when a player reaches this age. But, as I understand it, many NPCs do not consider me a player. Apparently, the system was wrong, or there was some mistake when connecting.

  “Think on it, sir,” the young woman said playfully, “You can always find me at the Home of Galliana. Just ask for Rosana.” Oh, there's a lot of passion in her eyes.

  “Sure!” I promised.

  “I'll remember you, Mister,” the girl waved to me and easily got lost in the crowd.

  No one else bothered me, apart from the traders inviting me to see their goods, and I was quietly walking around the market. I went up to people sometimes and directly asked, “Do you know Aksey? Have you seen him?”

  It was stupid, but I had to start somewhere. Basically, I heard the answers: “No, I don't know him,” sometimes “Get out of here, don't block the counter!” One of the merchants with a gangster's face threw some rotten muck at me, though he missed and got it on the orc passing nearby. He was offended and decided to fight. Without waiting for the end of the performance, I quickly ran away, although I’d really wanted to see the end.

  “No, I don't know him,” another merchant shrugged.

  “Are you looking for... Aksey...hic,” I was approached by a slightly tipsy man of about seventy years, “his wife is so... hic, sweet, a brisk old lady, Profya?”

  “Yes, Yes!” I immediately forgot about the merchant, and turned to the old man, “Where is he?”

  How lucky I am! I've been walking around here for four hours.

  “He drinks at my neighbor's place ... hic! There…” he waved his hand vaguely. “I'm going to buy a drink ... Let's go,” the man suggested.

  “To the neighbor?”

  “No,” he shook his head, “To buy some booze ... hic. And then to the neighbor.”

  Chapter 4

  T he man was going to the tedious and talkative (according to him) dwarf at the opposite end of th
e market from the place where I’d entered. He sold and bought, as you might’ve guessed, alcohol of all known types and prices.

  Entering the shop, the man bought three hefty bottles without bargaining. He immediately decided to try one of these with the dwarf, guided by the following reasoning: “Since you claim that the drink is good and strong, you yourself should also try it!” In the end, the merchant pulled him into the next room, because, as they said: “It’s not a drink without a snack.” It seemed to me like the tasting of the drink would last for a long time.

  Shrugging my shoulders–I have nowhere to go and, in any case, have to wait for him–I decided to look at the bottles of alcohol, neatly placed on the shelves. And there were plenty of them. I felt like I was in a museum.

  Some bottles were simple, these were the most common and numerous ones. Others, however, were almost works of art–elaborate shapes, strange decorations, bizarre images painted on them. The prices were also surprising. Some of them cost a penny, some were more expensive... And others ... Hmm... A figure with six zeros. A display model? I didn’t think that such an expensive bottle of alcohol had simply been put on the shelf. What does this bottle give? Eternal divine buffs? I wonder if any players buy them?

  “Let’s go, guy, hic,” the staggering man came out of the room and pointed to the exit. “I’m sure, hic, we're already expected there.”

  Why ‘we’? What does this have to do with me?

  Going through the market, the man persistently followed the most direct course, neatly pushing away passersby and even traders. However, noticing a detachment of guards coming directly at us, he abruptly went the other way, apparently being afraid of something. I followed him steadfastly. It was strange that no one beat him up. Maybe they’d just decided not to waste time. The man was very drunk, after all.

  We passed the market, reached the street where Profya lived, passed it, and then turned to the left.

  "We, hic, go there," the man waved at the third house and nearly fell, I barely managed to hold him up.