Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  I watched my health bar drop and groaned in extra pain.

  Failure to dodge noted.

  Total health loss: 13%

  “Oh. Sorry, Will! Are you all right?”

  I grunted and tried to shake it off. William Carver showed no woman any weakness! According to his journals, the only weakness he showed was while flirting his way into someone’s bed. There was a count on his table back at the cottage where I’d tried to see how many lady friends he’d racked up over the decades. Once it got past two dozen, I parked him back inside the bath and the autopilot program took another wash.

  With a shudder, I managed to right myself and stand.

  “I’ll be okay, Peg. This isn’t the first time a pretty woman has hit me.”

  She laughed as if I’d said the funniest thing on earth. I had no interest in being like William Carver with my time here. Being with a woman other than my fiancée didn’t interest me.

  “All right, I’ll clean up here. A little bird tells me you’ll be recounting some tales for the young ones tonight. Any truth to that?”

  I nodded.

  “Mylia reminded me.”

  “Slipped your mind, eh? Need a woman to remind you?” Peg was bustling about checking her weapons and making sure they were all in shape. She kept a conversational distance for William Carver’s hard hearing.

  “Mylia’s looking out for the kids.”

  “Sure, she is.”

  I grunted.

  “That’s our hero for you! Even in his dotage he’s trying to add another notch to the bedpost!” She started laughing even harder.

  I sighed, grumbled, groaned, and made my old man escape away from a madly laughing Peg. Nothing about my view on the situation with Mylia concluded with Carver caring one whit about getting into her underpants—or whatever people wore in a medieval setting. I doubted it was a G-string or something made of lace. Not with the vaguely emaciated look to her and the children’s faces.

  Maybe I should bring food too.

  Carver, the soft weird cookie personality, had often done little things to help out villagers, going against how I’d been acting with new players. If I were to try to reconcile a giving personality from his journals with the way he acted as a Guide, I’d have a headache and oodles of confusion.

  Baked goods would do. I’d promised to pick up some for the [Messenger’s Pet] on the way home, but I could grab something light and take it with me to the orphanage as well. Provided the little dragon didn’t show up and eat everything on the way.

  Cookies would be perfect.

  “Cookies.” I was nearly drooling while walking.

  With that glorious thought in mind, I marched onward, taking breaks as needed, watching people pass by and returning greetings. I checked out locations against my map to ensure I was both on track and becoming more familiar with my surroundings.

  Turned out the city name was scrawled across the top of each map, which was where I’d found it one night. [Haven Valley] was nearly idealistic compared to the NPCs rumors of other cities. Guards talked a lot about everything. Players would mention a need to gain skills or ask me for directions to one faction’s headquarters or the other.

  At least [Haven Valley]’s colors weren’t red and blue. That would be outright cliché. Instead we had a green with some laurel thing, claiming to be related to tree people and have ties in a huge valley over the mountains to the south. Their kingdom was called [Telliari]. [Telliari] had an uneasy alliance with a kingdom to the north that was more a coalition of city-states called [The Altheme Provinces]. Somewhere on either side was another set of regions along with wilderness and a trade route that went off to the other side of the continent.

  I filed the information away in a notebook I’d started keeping on my ARC. Since there was so little information online, keeping a journal I could access outside the game or while traveling around at work seemed like a good choice. Plus William Carver’s notes and belongings were not mine to keep, just to peruse while living his life.

  Creating a separate journal had actually been Beth’s idea, not mine. I was still keeping most of my actions under wraps, but she pestered me constantly. Guessed Uncle Grant couldn’t escape from her boundless enthusiasm for much longer.

  The bakery had a walk-in stall set up. That was very neat. Old Man Carver did not like doors at all.

  “Mister C!”

  Great. Pie Master, who acted more like a young hip-hop rapper gone pastry, was manning the stall. I did what any old grumpy man who felt a need to be nosy about new players’ lives might do. Ignored the stupid name and went on with my day.

  “I need cookies.”

  “Cookies? I don’t think we do cookies up in here.” Pie Master actually looked appropriate in the chef’s apron.

  “Ladette, do we do cookies?”

  “No, what’s a cookie?” a voice yelled from the back side of the stall. Making out the female’s face was difficult with Carver’s vision.

  “You’re killing me! You don’t know what cookies are?” Pie Master stopped his cleaning and started toward the building’s rear.

  “No, explain it to me!”

  I watched a pop-up box form in front of the player. He didn’t know I could see them, or he might have disguised his glee. There was a look of extreme amusement and a hint of greed on his face.

  “Wait…” He paused and squinted at me. “How do you know about cookies?”

  I fluttered around a bit inside my head. Luckily Carver’s exterior didn’t betray one ounce of the panic I’d been stricken with.

  “One of you Traveler types talked to me about them. I wanted to bring something for the kids during my visit.” My progress bar took a hit for providing an answer without compensation.

  “Oh! Yeah, I guess that makes sense. How many do you need?”

  My eyes drifted downward while I tried to figure out how many items a squad of children might eat. Too many if left alone.

  “A few dozen.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll see what we can do. Maybe thirty minutes? That sound good?”

  I chewed a lip and tried to remember how much time there was until sundown. Thirty minutes shouldn’t be too bad.

  “Sure. I’ll need some cupcakes too.”

  Pie Master shook his head. “This place. They got cupcakes, but no cookies. It’s criminal.”

  He placed a few of the small cupcakes onto the counter and waited for me to pull out some change. My stiff fingers managed the action slowly.

  “I wonder if I could get a patent…”

  Ignoring Pie Master’s money-grasping muttering was difficult. Eventually, I broke away and made it to a bench. One of the two cupcakes went slowly into my mouth, a squished bit at a time. The other one I set next to me, where the [Messenger’s Pet] would likely show up in moments. He’d been promised the treat on the way home. How the tiny creature kept finding me was beyond my understanding.

  Sure enough, moments later he was chewing away. A dead [Coo-Coo Rill] had been deposited nearby, and a huffing human male was running up behind the small dragon.

  “How. What.” More exaggerated panting. His stamina bar was probably completely run out. “So fast. He’s so fast.”

  “Yep,” I muttered around the last crumbs of my cupcake.

  The [Messenger’s Pet] was nearly purring in his kind of squeaky tone. I’d seen depictions of tiny creatures like him on the covers of old fantasy books, though his legs were a bit more lion-like.

  “How. Did you train. It?” More out of breath-huffing issued forth.

  I was quickly losing my cupcake happiness.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Is it. A pet?” Awesome Jr. fell to the ground and kept right on panting.

  “Sort of.” I had no such problems. Maybe a small ache in my shoulder.

  “This game. Is awesome.”

  “No. Awesome is your father,” I said while avoiding any inflection.

  “Hah. Ha ha.” He actually was laughing. Not in fake a
musement or something placating, but real mirth.

  Okay. I was proud of my lame joke as well, but Old Man Carver wouldn’t let anyone know! Especially not some wet-behind-the-ears newbie.

  “How did your mission go?”

  “Terrible. I got so lost. There are too many houses. Rows and rows of houses. They all look different too!” Awesome Jr. finally had enough strength back to sit up. Both arms wrapped around his knees.

  “Ah. Learning a new world takes time. Did the map help?”

  “A little. I found some of the people you marked and asked them how the other Travelers were doing. They gave me notes.” Awesome Jr. fished out a pile of papers from one pocket and shoved them in my direction.

  The [Messenger’s Pet] hissed when Awesome Jr. got too close, which was awesome. I chuckled and gave the tiny guy a stroke, which set him to purring again. He calmed down and dove into the remains of his cupcake.

  “Wait until you try cookies,” I whispered quietly. I saw one ear perk forward almost like a cat’s before it settled back down.

  “That’s so—”

  “Awesome.” I nodded and cut off the new player.

  “What’s its name?”

  “His name, and I don’t know. Would you like to try to find a name for him?” I watched the box bleep into existence in front of Awesome Jr.

  He laughed like a child and shook his head.

  “My naming sense is a little bit lacking. I’d better not.” His finger jabbed at the floating system message. Quest offered and firmly rejected.

  “Oh well. So far the little guy hasn’t liked any name given to him, so it’ll have to wait,” I said.

  “That’s an interesting quest,” the young man said.

  My response was to give an old man half-smile that seemed more tired than amused.

  “This place is full of interesting things. How did you like the tour?” Carver cared about what happened to players. He treated players the way they treated him. My points were slowly changing for the better today.

  “I saw a lot of places. A lot of people were super friendly when I said I was doing an errand for you. One lady—she said to call her Peg—she was confused and said you could have asked her yourself.”

  I smiled. I’d been dealing with Peg nearly an hour ago at this point. Carver’s pace was intensely slow compared to most other people, even after the pleasant workout. Awesome Jr. must have just left her. Then the little [Messenger’s Pet] had somehow sensed cupcakes and flown this way.

  “Probably,” I admitted. There was no telling how the wide-hipped, angry woman was faring now. Her name eluded me, along with many of the other new players.

  Maybe I’d start noting them in my ARC’s journal. So I had something to refer back to. A long list of people I’d avoid playing the game with if given a choice. They’d all be out having their first adventures while I was stuck in a starting town.

  “Decided on what to do with yourself?” I asked

  “I thought about going back to Peg.” Awesome Jr. waved a tired arm around, and boxes shifted about his screen. He was looking for something in his wall of information.

  “She’d make a man out of you.” With more than one meaning if he did well enough on the training side. Her background description had been rather blunt in possible outcomes. But hey, who was I to argue? This game did require all Travelers to be of legal age. Bet he’d be absolutely hooked on playing then.

  I didn’t look for that sort of thing. The brothel area was eye-catching, however.

  “Would she?” Then he shook his head and had the decency to look mildly red-faced. “No, I need to learn a weapon. Not sure what though.”

  “Partial to a two-hander myself.” Points! Precious quest progression points were worth throwing nonsense out there. “Though don’t assume you’re locked in. The world’s large. You may change your style later on.”

  “Oh? That’s good. I was worried that I’d be forced to choose a class or something.” He waved all the windows away and lay back completely.

  “No. Your world has classes. We’re a bit more realistic, and Travelers are fortunate; you have many options available if you can find them.”

  “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

  I smirked.

  “I’m here to get Travelers started, that’s all. Where you choose to start is up to you.”

  “It’s too much!”

  “You read any books in your world?”

  “Yeah, sure, a lot. My ARC has a ton of books, and the Internet. My dad’s library is huge. He’s been collecting since I was little.” Awesome Jr. rambled on for too long.

  I took out another acorn for the [Messenger’s Pet] and threw it. The little guy looked uninterested after his cupcake conquest.

  “Do some research on the paradox of choice and paralysis of analysis.” According to one of Carver’s many information pop-up boxes, this was a good strategy for the younger, far-too-clever people.

  “What? Why would you know concepts from our world?” Awesome Jr. looked surprised. Or I assumed it was surprise—his face was almost as fuzzy as everything else. One day I’d see this world without feeling as if I were underwater.

  “I’ve talked to a lot of people over the years, a lot of Travelers who had no idea what they wanted or how to get it. It might help you to sit down and think about it.”

  “Huh. Okay. I’ll do that now. I have homework anyway.”

  I nodded. Moments later, Awesome Jr. vanished in a swoosh of light. Eventually I’d discovered autopilot wasn’t available to most new players. Awesome Jr. couldn’t leave his game avatar doing some random project.

  Another acorn failed to garner a reaction. I threw the fifth one right at the [Messenger’s Pet], and all he did was grump and dive into Carver’s hood. I hummed while debating how much time there was left before night.

  Curse this blurry vision. Decent eyesight would allow me to see into the baker’s building to see how things were going. Was that Pie Master jumping up and down while waving? I squinted and grumbled to myself while balancing on the cane. This body’s hearing was extremely bad unless someone was right next to me.

  “Hey! Mister C! I made cookies!”

  “Huh?”

  “Cookies! I showed Ladette how to make them. My skill’s not high enough, but she’s a pro. Want to try one?” Pie Master was running over with a metal sheet.

  Carver’s eyes and ears may be second rate, but his nose was working well enough to pick up that scent.

  “Raisins?”

  “No. They’re called Almanuts. Wait. You know what raisins are?”

  I tried not to let my old body cringe at giving away non-local knowledge. Sure enough, the few points I’d gained with Awesome Jr. were already gone.

  “That was what the other Traveler told me about.”

  “Well, you’re in luck! These are pretty good. A hint of sweetness to go with the fresh gooey insides, and the outside is so crisp it’ll melt in your mouth.” He looked surprised at a pop-up box near his face. Looked as though his words had garnered skill bonuses of some sort. From this angle, the box was impossible to see clearly, but it was likely something to help convince people to try whatever he was peddling.

  I tried one and almost died in happiness. Real-world consumables had been bare minimum to survive for a long time. Most of my income went to supporting my family in a steadily downhill job market.

  “This is forking delicious.” Those weren’t my exact words, but the cookie made it hard to enunciate. Even grumpy Old Man Carver would give credit where it was due.

  “I know! I’d eat one myself, but I’m trying to teach them proper sanitation. It’s not terrible back there, but it’s not exactly four-star.”

  I tried to give my best confused look and shrugged. Another cookie went onto my lap, and part of one went to the now-curious [Messenger’s Pet].

  “Hey, should he eat those?”

  I shrugged.

  “I know dogs get sick from chocolate. He
’s not, like, a dog or allergic, is he?”

  “Not so far.”

  “Okay. I’d hate to kill such a cutie.” Pie Master was busy making gooey eyes at the tiny dragon. “Who’s a cute little guy.”

  And true to form, the [Messenger’s Pet] was in love with anyone who provided food.

  “How many can you make?”

  “For you? I’m sure we can whip together another few batches quickly. I’ll even work in a discount.”

  “A discount?”

  “I’ll ask Ladette.” Pie Master found almost everything outrageously amusing. “It’s her store.”

  “You do that.” My fingers waved him off while I munched a cookie.

  The [Messenger’s Pet] was busy searching for crumbs. Nothing lined the path between here and the bakery. He settled for diving into Carver’s robe and licking around. At that moment, I really did feel like an old man with an overactive lap puppy. That had wings and breathed fire occasionally. Typically, old-people pets also failed to follow orders. That was the problem! It wasn’t me being unable to give orders—no, it was me being an old man! The [Messenger’s Pet] would rue the day I got my real in-game avatar.

  That pleasant thought kept me going through the cookie purchase. Ladette gouged me out of far too much of Carver’s money, even with a “discount”. She claimed exclusive access to new goods. According to what little I’d read of Pie Master’s window, he was going to get kickbacks similar to what I’d received for my Casino idea pitched to the Voice.

  I left the player and baker clicking their heels and shouting about a new product. They’d probably be at it until the sun went down, and knowing player mentality, Pie Master would keep on baking through the night in order to get more skill ups and other recipes out into the public. Voices, cookies in the morning sounded good too. It was all digital, and what would William Carver care? None! The proof was in my progress bar’s lack of excitement over the exchange.

  Of course, here I was, two weeks into Carver’s life, and I still hadn’t figured out where all his money came from. Nothing he owned popped into existence like it did for other players. My vague assumption was that Carver had turned into an NPC somewhere along the line.