by Cid Banks
James
Level 8 Bard
Feudal Rank 1, Baron of Blackspire Fortress
HP: 30/30 MP: 19/19
Experience: 2995 Level Goal: 3280
Strength: 2 Reflex: 8 Willpower: 9 Charisma: 11
Traits: Lustful
Abilities: Song of Mocking, Song of Seduction, Song of Spirit (new songs available)
Spells: Teleport, Duplicate (new spells available)
Gold: 3435 Influence: 100
I still hadn’t decided which songs and spells I wanted. There was too much to read, and I didn’t want to make a mistake. I had the same Feudal Rank information on my screen as Cedric. I’d also received a new stat: Influence. The Gamepedia said it was for politics and diplomacy. Currently, I wasn’t gaining any because I was a nobody that lived in a shithole.
Amy thumbed through the air. “This might be useful! It says the treasury is where you store gold. Castles generate income but they have expenses, so the treasury makes it easy to safeguard the money. Point is, you have two places to store cash now. If you die, only the gold you’re carrying with you gets cut in half.”
“Handy.” I looked at my menu. “Except it’s a ruin like everything else.”
“Probably best to carry your gold for the moment; I didn’t spot a vault anywhere.”
Amy and I had searched the castle top to bottom in the last couple days. Unfortunately, the cultists had picked the place clean.
She pointed. “We got another one!”
“Ugh, why are they coming here?”
A middle-aged soldier with slicked gray hair and a full beard saluted as he walked past. “Baron James.”
I gave him a halfhearted wave. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
Rebel from neighboring towns had been pouring into the grounds. They camped in the courtyard and set to work making the castle more livable. They chopped wood from the forest and repaired the stones. Others were fashioning shacks in the yard.
The new soldier wore mismatched armor, the same variety as those at the heist, but I didn’t recognize him. He tore enemy banners from walls and threw them into a bonfire.
“Seriously, who is that guy?” I hissed at Amy. “Where the hell did he come from?”
She stared at me, baffled. “You ask me like I’m supposed to know that.”
“It’s my castle. So far, none of these assholes have asked permission to camp here. How do they even know Blackspire exists?”
“Not sure.” Amy turned toward the savory scent wafting from a fire. “I’ll see what’s cooking. I could use a snack. Want anything?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
I closed the character window and pulled back up the castle screen.
Blackspire Fortress
Level 3 Settlement
Region: The Spirelands
Settlement Type: Castle
Treasury: 0 Income: +0
Population: 29 Unrest: 0%
Traits: Ruins, Towering Walls
Garrison: [none]
Resources: [none]
Keep Constructions: Lord’s Tower (ruined), Chapel (ruined), Armory (ruined), Magic Well, Observatory (ruined), Dungeons (ruined), Treasury (ruined), Barracks (ruined)
Town Buildings: Marketplace (ruined)
Inheritance Law: Agnatic-Primogeniture Heir: [none]
Realm Laws: [none]
Wow. Overwhelming. The screens included a thorough breakdown of the castle’s constructions and economics. Most of the stats were zeroes. Everything was useless except the magic well. The girls and I might’ve been responsible for the chapel. I looked at the former blood-cult shrine.
Chapel
Level 2
Faith: [none]
Upkeep: 0
NOTE: This Chapel is currently a ruin. It will produce no bonuses and cost no upkeep.
Chapels are places where weary souls may find solace and comfort. Chapels decrease the overall unrest of a settlement’s population. Praying in the Chapel increases the probability of attaining faith-aligned traits (unique to each faith). A Chapel can be dedicated to the worship of any faith for unique bonuses.
Chapel Bonus: [none]
Faith Bonus: [none]
Repair Cost: 700 gold, 24 Timber, 9 Stone, 3 Textiles
I should’ve killed the priest before he went kamikaze and wrecked the building. Scrolling through, I opened information about the keep.
Keep
Level 4
Banner: [none]
Upkeep: 0
Influence: +0
NOTE: This Keep is currently a ruin. It will produce no bonuses and cost no upkeep.
The heart of every settlement is the Keep, which is the most heavily fortified part of most settlements and serves as its political core. A Keep is the primary source of soldiers for a settlement. Grand and powerful Keeps also provide Influence for their holder, and a powerful character may fly a unique Legendary banner at their Keep.
Keep Bonus: [none]
Banner Bonus: [none]
Repair Cost: 4800 gold, 50 Stone, 35 Timber, 16 Iron, 12 Textiles, 9 Wool
The new features would be cool if everything weren’t a goddamn ruin. Destroyed buildings did nothing. They generated no resources and gave zero bonuses. The gold we’d found wasn’t nearly enough to make this place functional.
Amy returned with two roasted rabbits.
I bit into mine, savoring the meat. “I love strategy games and building stuff, but this is nuts. Sorting this out will take ages. So will rebuilding the castle. I don’t get this shit. What the hell is a magic well?”
Amy ripped a chunk of thigh. “Wasn’t there a well in the flooded basements?”
“Damn. You’re right.”
I watched the courtyard. People hammered temporary shelters and hung canvas to make tents. Cooking fires were scattered over the grounds. My population number increased with every rebel that camped here.
I finished my snack and stood.
Amy swallowed. “Where are you going?”
“I need a respite from my duties as baron. I think I’ll stretch my legs and maybe check out that well.”
Water lapped my calves as I touched the smooth stone. I ran my hands over the symbols chiseled into the well. Sharp geometric patterns swirled down as though they were circling a drain.
This must be it.
Only one structure wasn’t a ruin. Hopefully, it did something cool. I tapped the patterns, looking for a button.
How did this work?
I opened the information about the well.
Magic Well
Level 2
Occupant: Favira of Petron Vale
Upkeep: 0
Magical wells are repositories of profound arcane powers. The well allows its master additional spells and can be activated to replenish MP instantly. Each well can house an ethereal being to grant additional bonuses. A well’s master can activate the power of the well by dropping in a coin.
Well Bonus: +2 available spells
Occupant Bonus: Bonfire Blast Potion
I withdrew a single coin and tossed it inside. It bounced off the walls before plopping into the water far below. The splash was unusually loud. The ground rumbled. So did the well. The insides bubbled and spat out a black, tar-like substance. A shriek emanated from the bubbles, which oozed from the well. A particularly large one popped, spraying the liquid everywhere. A drop landed on my wrist, and it rolled down like oil.
“Finally!” A womanly figure screamed in ecstasy as she erupted from the geyser. “Oh, this feels so good!”
She hovered above the fountain, bound in tight, patent leather. At least, that’s what it looked like. The oily blackness clung to her like a second skin, dripping into the well. It seemed to move in swirls of iridescent color. Her flaming hair floated as though still underwater. Tiny ebony flowers dotted her mane like beetles. Spilling from her dress were the biggest tits I’d ever seen.
Was her appearance a coincidence, or was it because of my lustful trait? Th
e internet would’ve had a field day with her.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The woman’s cherry-red pout widened into a smile. “You’re not the same man who trapped me here. You’re new!”
Her catlike grin filled me with unease. She glided toward me, giving me a better view of her cleavage.
“What do you mean?”
“A hundred years ago, some jerk captured and imprisoned me here.” She released a hysterical sob. “What kind of person does that to a lady?”
“Er—a bad one. Are you a fairy? I didn’t know fairies were a thing in this game. I’ve only seen humans and monsters so far. I thought this world didn’t have cliché fantasy stuff.”
She floated back, cross. “I am not a cliché!”
“Of course not,” I said in a rush. “Sorry.”
“I am the one-and-only Favira, eternal of the Petron Vale,” she boomed. “I am the eternal embodiment of the blood of the earth, the undying heart of flame, sister to flame and earth elementals, and daughter to the god of heat and chaos!”
“But you’re a prisoner?”
“Yes.” She soured, her scowl deepening. “My rightful place is in the light of magma, not in this pit.”
She was totally a fairy. A crazy, destruction-worshipping fairy.
She leaned closer, her gigantic face inches from mine. “What’s it going to be, handsome? Will you set me free?”
“How?” I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.
“Take me where I belong, the Firelands! Specifically the Petron Vale. That’s my cozy, little home. I know you humans are flammable, though.”
A quest popup jumped into view, prompting me to take her. I didn’t bother to read the reward before swiping it aside.
“Listen… I’m sorry you’re trapped, but I’ve never been to the Firelands. I don’t know where they are. The only reason I’m here is to see the bonus of the magic well. I have too many quests to add another.”
Her lips sagged with an exaggerated frown. She ran a finger across her collar, which glistened with oil as she teased her cleavage.
She must know I had the lustful trait.
“I can promise this: If I go to the Firelands, I’ll bring you with me. You have my word.” I doubted I’d ever reach the Firelands unless it was on my way to escaping this game.
“Better than the last guy, I guess. Fine. You have a deal, cutie.” The fairy twirled, her long hair brushing the walls. “I’m feeling very generous today. I’ll take care of you for seeking me out.” A strand stroked the derelict shelves lining the wall. “Grab a bottle.”
I scanned them, grabbing the only jar I saw. “This one?”
“Yep!” She made a face. “Eww, I hate water! That won’t work!”
I wiped it with my sleeve before giving it to her. She plucked it from my hands and dove into the well with a loud splash. Seconds later, she burst free and hung over the well’s lip. She tossed her glistening hair before handing over the full jar. Its contents swirled with a dark, oily liquid. At its center, a flame flickered.
“Here you go, handsome. Be careful with it.”
An information pop up for the potion consumed my vision.
Bonfire Blast Potion
Level 32 Elemental Potion
Creates an enchanted fire fueled by magical oil that spreads exponentially across all surfaces. Deals Fire damage. Nullifies effects of water and suffocation on extinguishing a fire.
Single Use
“Holy shit, that’s dangerous. I can’t carry this!”
“Nonsense,” she tutted. “Just be vigilant around fire, water, and oil.”
My heart leaped. “I’m standing in water!”
The fairy scoffed. “Don’t be a baby.”
A cold sweat broke on my forehead. “This is crazy.”
“That’s why I had you dry it first, silly.”
Shaking, I slid the glass jar into my inventory. If it fell, I would be dead. Something about her maniacal grin made me think she’d be overjoyed if that happened.
She blew me a kiss. “Come back soon!”
Twenty-Three
When I returned to the courtyard, a dozen more armored warriors on horseback dismounted, looking for a place to camp.
This was getting out of hand.
Nobody gave a damn that I was the baron. That this was my castle. Maybe I should’ve whipped out my lute and played Aretha Franklin’s Respect, but I couldn’t summon the energy to care. Even my successful dive into the basement and the retrieval of the Bonfire Blast Potion failed to lift my spirits.
There was only one thing on my mind—Naomi’s suffering. Turning away from my impertinent guests, I headed to the quieter halls where Naomi had taken up residence. The torchlight illuminated a depressing row of rooms, most with missing doors.
Hers was closed.
I approached it for the third time today, fist hovering over the wood. I didn’t want to impose, especially when I had nothing to say except the same worthless platitudes. I’m sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt. Naomi didn’t give a damn. She’d died, and there was no undoing that damage.
My back hit the wall. I rubbed my forehead, trying to think. I even flipped open my character menu. The prompts for leveling up were still there. I had several points to spend, and I needed to choose a song and two spells. The choices cycled before me.
What if I could pick something that helped Naomi?
Honestly, I didn’t care how insignificant it was. If it got her out of bed, if it made her smile, it was worth it. I paused over Commune.
Commune: Level 1
Casting MP: 4
Target: Self
Magic School: Natural
Understand and communicate with animals for 27 minutes. Applies only to living and polymorphed animals. Spell duration based on Willpower.
That gave me an idea. It was ridiculous, but it might make Naomi happy.
I selected Commune and closed all the windows. Our first night in the castle had introduced us to a colony of friendly cats that lived here. With the cultists gone, they cropped up everywhere. I walked the hallway. I didn’t go far before spotting a calico napping on a windowsill. Its ears perked as I approached. Sleepy, green eyes blinked as it stretched its jaw in a wide yawn.
Commune
A buzz filled my throat as green light flared.
“…it woke me, but maybe it has food. Why is it staring? Does it have food? My balls itch.” The calico lifted his leg and groomed his genitals. “Ugh, this is rank. I shouldn’t have mounted the Siamese.”
“Good morning, kitty-cat.” Its head snapped toward my voice, eyes widening. “My name is James.”
“Why are you interrupting my bath?” The orange and black tail thumped against the wall. “What do you want?”
This was the weirdest thing I’d ever done. “Er—I was hoping you could help me out. I have this friend who could use some cheering up.”
“Do you have food?”
Damn. One track mind. “Not presently.”
“I could be persuaded with some meat.” His acid-green gaze blinked. “Until then, I’m busy.”
“You’ll have everything you want if you help me. All you need to do is sit on a girl’s lap and let her pet you.”
The calico trilled. “That’s all?”
“Yeah.” Struck by a sudden inspiration, I continued. “You’ll have a rabbit leg to yourself if you help me find kittens.”
“Oh, that’s easy. I’ll take you to Jasmine.” He bounded from the windowsill; tail held high. “Her butt smells amazing. As you can imagine, she’s quite popular. Always has a litter.”
Gross. “Cool.”
I followed the cat as he crawled underneath a broken door. I lifted it from its hinges, setting it aside. Inside the room was an ancient mattress ripped to shreds, hay strewn over the floor. Toppled-over furniture lay everywhere, but persistent mews led me to the bookshelf. A litter of three-month-old kittens screeched from a nest. The chorus of voices was imp
ossible to untangle.
“FOOD!”
“Bitey, kicky. I will rip you to pieces!”
“—Ouch, that’s my balls!”
“BIG FACE! MOM!” Suddenly, every ear-splitting shriek echoed the same word, “MOM!”
A silky white Persian jumped to the bookshelf, uttering a low hiss. “Get your paws off them! And go away, Frank!”
Frank loped to the shelf, touching noses with the multicolored kittens. “Relax, he’s not a threat.”
I held up my hands, smiling. “I come in peace. Swear to God.”
A growl rumbled from the back of her throat. “What do you want?”
“You and your kittens to play with a friend of mine. In exchange, I’ll give you lots of meat and scritches.”
“Hmm,” Jasmine glanced at her kittens, mulling the offer. “Okay. But I need quality—I’m sick of eating mice.”
“Done.”
Jasmine rallied her kittens to follow her, ignoring their shouted questions—“Where are we going? I’m tired!” and “Want more milk!”
Reeling at the strangeness, I stroked Frank’s side. “Can you round up more cats and meet us in the hall?”
“I could, but will you hold up your end of the deal?” Skepticism filled his voice. “You don’t want to cross me, James. I know where you sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off. “You’ll murder me in my sleep.”
“No, but I might leave a fresh turd on your pillow until I get what’s due.”
“Fine. Whatever.” I scratched Frank’s chin, and he closed his eyes lazily until Jasmine yowled.
“Let’s go!” She navigated through the room, kittens in tow. “I’ve seven hungry mouths to feed, and my nipples are raw.”
I picked up a few to help. They were cute and indistinguishable from the real thing. I didn’t need Commune to tell me the kittens wanted warmth, play, and attention, but it was adorable hearing them demand for more. Hopefully, they would be enough to pull Naomi out of her rut.
Dozens of cat voices echoed as I led the way to Naomi’s bedroom. Feline shapes darted from the shadows to join us as word spread. Excitement chittered through the crowd. I had a bad feeling Frank had exaggerated my promise. There were rumblings of cat feast and an all-you-can-eat buffet just for cats.
