by Adam Elliott
Fortunately, the lights of Islo were already glimmering in the darkness ahead of him. The second largest city on the floor on launch day, Islo had proven to be by far the better loved of the two, in part because of its sheer closeness to the dungeon entrance. A five-mile hike, it was still a damn sight closer than the sixty-five he would have had to walk to reach the floor's 'capitol.' The larger city was more opulent and fantastical, but for most players, opulence gave way to convenience, particularly back in the day when players had to fight a floor boss just to gain access.
"One more mile to go." Cayden sighed. God, he needed a mount. "Skill Use: Leap Attack."
Chapter Seven
Apparently 'The City that Never Sleeps' was a hereditary title if the streets of Islo were anything to judge by. Cayden had passed no less than a dozen parties on their way out of the city as he traveled towards its gates. Some wore tabards and carried equipment that marked them as corporate farmers and guards, the night shift off to make sure that respawning resource nodes didn't go unexploited simply because the floor had shifted to a nighttime skybox. Others were more traditional, groups of young men and women gleefully conversing as they headed out for some late night hunting.
Once inside the city, he found it alive with life despite the late hour. Bands playing on corners and makeshift stages, a mixture of bards trying to level up their skills with the lute and electric guitars wailing away at classics from the 90's. 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' seemed to be a particular favorite judging by the crowds gathered around two separate performances as he wandered the city. No accounting for taste.
Then again, in the latter case, it was kind of obvious that they were less interested in the song than the busty green skinned Elan girl wearing the schoolgirl outfit. It wasn't his first time seeing one of them in the flesh, but it was his first time seeing quite so much of their flesh.
He certainly saw the appeal.
The Elan were, for lack of a better term, Babel's NPC's. An entire race and culture of demi-humans had sprung into existence with the creation of the tower, each of them with their own lives and experiences, with histories that supposedly spanned thousands of generations. The Elan girl dancing on stage was little more than two years old by human reckoning, but she undoubtedly had memories of an entire life lived before humans ever set foot within the tower.
From a lore perspective, Elan claimed to be those who stayed. When the 99 houses of Babel were scattered to the four corners of the earth, only the Elan remained to tend the tower and worship the Great Emperor. With the issue of the challenge, the Elan had opened their stores and their cities to the returning bloodline families. They ran the common shops and the inns, the temples and the keeps. Anything, where one might expect an NPC in a traditional MMO, had an Elan filling that role inside Babel.
Perhaps to help players more easily recognize them, Elan were also quite visually distinct from humans in one particular aspect, color. Every Elan had at least one part of its aspect that was unnatural in a human being. Green skin, Violet hair, Rainbow eyes, the particular quirk or number of quirks varied from Elan to Elan, but it was always there.
The performance ended, and to Cayden's brief regret, the Elan girl disappeared behind a curtain as the band fiddled with their equipment and prepared for a follow-up set. Sparing them a glance, at last, he realized that they were a mixture of Elan and Humans, a thick-shouldered yellow-haired Elan tuning his bass guitar alongside a rather pudgy, but very human drummer.
“Two years together on the planet and we've got them doing Britney Spears tribute bands with us.” He commented wryly to himself as he turned to rejoin traffic moving towards the marketplace. “Not sure if I should be happy we are getting along, or sorry for what we've done to them.”
Even this late at night, traffic moving through the marketplace was a nightmare of squeezing and nudging. Built into the white cobblestone town square, surrounding one of the floor's two teleportation crystals the bazaar was a chaotic jumble of player and Elan owned stalls selling and buying all manner of equipment, consumables, resources and whatever else the mind could imagine. Finding what you wanted to buy, or finding a place that would buy what you wanted to sell could be maddening. If you didn't do your research.
“I sense a soul in search of answers!” An old crone called out to Cayden from behind one of three tables that lay beneath the ramshackle roof of her stall.
“Command: Purchase Menu.”
“As you wish sir.” The red eyed crone said with a bow, stepping back even as a sales menu popped up on Cayden's display.
That was perhaps the single largest difference between the Elan and Humanity. The former could be subject to the commands of the latter.
Elan were originally the common class of the tower, and with the return of the bloodlines of the ninety-nine houses, many of them had fallen back into their old ways. In practical terms, this meant that he could issue some commands to various Elan to activate menus, skip quest dialogue and just generally have them treated more as functions of the game rather than actual people.
He absolutely could have dealt with the crone on person to person, haggling over the cost of items, looking through her shop by hand and so forth. Or he could issue her a command, as he had done, that would display her entire shop's menu on his HUD, allowing him to sell things out of his pack and purchase things from her without the need for back and forth with an otherwise fictitious person.
Such commands didn't work on all Elan, however. Royalty, as just one example, were resistant to almost all commands from the player races.
Role-players and Elan Rights activists probably would have shaken their heads and tsk-tsked at him, but Cayden couldn't have cared less. He was tired, and he had no desire to haggle over the cost of torn bandanas and rusted shards of goblin knives with someone who wasn't even a person.
A handful of gestures cleaned out the majority of his inventory, earning him 572 Zeni for his troubles of carrying it that far. The windfall brought his total up to just over 1,800, but that bounty was short lived as he flipped onto the 'buy' side of the purchase menu. To any sane person what he purchased would have raised some eyebrows, but if the crone noticed or cared about the items disappearing from her wares into his inventory she didn't comment.
All in all the purchases dropped him back down to 382 Zeni. He'd overspent on some of what he purchased, an item here or there undoubtedly cheaper at another stall, or at auction. But to get those prices, he would have to come back during the daytime. Saving a few hours of navigating the packed marketplace at the cost of a few hundred Zeni was money well spent.
"Madam." Cayden said, at last, tipping his head to the woman behind the counter who simply shot back a stern gaze. Most Elan didn't react to the usage of the Command Prompts, but he couldn't help but feel like the old woman was one of the exceptions. Then again, perhaps she was just always this grumpy.
Melting back into the crowd, Cayden let it push him along towards the edge of the market where he ditched into a side street Born and raised in Iowa, Islo was the sort of city a guy like Cayden could easily lose hours in. It's chaotic twists and turns were like nothing in his experience, an old world city the likes of which just didn't exist where he came from.
Fortunately, there was Google.
"Google Search: Inn near my position. Meal and lodgings 200 Zeni or less." He hadn't even finished making his request when his view began to fill with possibilities. The latter part of his query knocked off a half-dozen suggestions, and he took a moment to scan the reviews of a few others before deciding. Inn of the Dizzy Sheep. Cute name, cheap, and apparently decent food. Done and done.
The inn wasn't far. With the aid of his minimap and the guideline cord displayed in his AR field of vision, it was easy to find his way to the large three-story wooden structure that stood just off one of the main thoroughfares.
A placard of a cartoon sheep with rolling eyes and stars circling above its head stood watch over the main entrance to the establishm
ent, and a wall of noise nearly overwhelmed Cayden as he tugged it open. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd come to a similar decision on where to stay for the night.
The common room was full near to overflowing with all manner of individuals, both Human and Elan. Games were being played, cards, thrown knives, and 'battles' of prestidigitation. Drinks were being had nearly by all, though by far the greatest patrons in that regard would be the group of camo-clad twenty-somethings occupying three long tables at the far end of the room. Judging by their high and tights, definitely Toy Soldiers.
"Excuse me." Cayden started, knowing it was a futile effort before the word even slipped free of his lips. The barmaid hadn't even looked at him, hadn't even acknowledged his existence save for doing her best to physically dodge him and thus avoid toppling the dozen or so mugs of liquid she carried onto the floor. He tried twice more, his eyes searching around for a hostess or someone to seat him. Apparently, this wasn't exactly that kind of place.
There were a handful of tables still free of any obvious occupants, so Cayden selected the one the furthest from the knife games. Just to be safe. He crossed the room and settled into a small corner booth before pulling the establishment's menu up onto his HUD.
Surprisingly, he didn't have to wait long for someone to pay attention to him once he was seated. A blue haired Elan girl quickly took note of him and made her way in his direction.
“Evening. Don't think I've seen your face around here. Can I get you any-”
“Command: Purchase Menu.”
He had waited several long seconds before he reached up to fiddle with his glasses and another second or two before he finally caught sight of the expression on the waitresses' face. She did not look impressed.
“Oh damn. You're... sorry! I thought you were...” Cayden stammered under her withering gaze. “I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with...”
Finally, she smiled, a laugh breaking past the edges of that cold facade in spite of her best efforts. "It's okay sweetie; it's fine." One had raised to pluck at a curl of blue hair, pulling it straight. "You aren't the first one to make that mistake."
The waitress was a young, maybe a year or two his elder, though the painted blue of her lips and dark shadows around her eyes gave her a much more mature and womanly look. She was svelte, lacking many of the curves of her more buxom co-workers, yet she was undoubtedly pretty enough to hold his eyes long past the point of polite staring into emerald eyes.
“So... are you going to try ordering again without the Command Prompt?”
"I... uh... oh, yeah." Cayden stumbled over his own words. He turned away from the girl to stare off into space, intently studying the menu that wasn't even displayed on his HUD. He lingered on that fiction until he felt he'd regained his wits, at last turning back to the barmaid with his best smile. "I'm thinking steak, well-done wit-"
“Well done steak?” The girl teased with a pair of upraised eyebrows.
“Yeah? What's wrong with that?”
"Nothing. Just, I figured that if it is your first night in Babel, you might want to eat something more exotic than warmed up shoe leather."
Cayden felt color rising to his cheeks once again, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the blue haired girl. "Oh, it isn't that bad." He scowled, before adding. "How did you...?"
“Beginner breastplate.” She tapped at the armor resting over his chest. “Beginner bracers.” Her hand brushed his as she retracted it after touching the second piece of armor. “And you haven't yet picked up on the fact that it is a little gauche to come into an inn fully equipped.”
That last comment gave him pause before he could retort. He hadn't noticed it on first glance around the bar, but she was right. No one in the common room wore a single stitch of even the simplest armor, not a ring of mail or a bit of studded leather. Even the mages had dispensed with their heavy robes in favor of something more stylish.
Most wore the local Elan fashions, tunics, riding leathers, stylish dresses and hooded cloaks that would have looked at home on the set of any high budget fantasy film set. The Toy Soldiers in their fatigues were one exception, while a handful of others marked themselves by bucking the trend in favor of more modern clothing.
“And yeah. It is that bad.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Cayden replied, already busy in his menu selecting his equipment and casting it off. He'd have to buy something a little bit more... stylish, in the morning.
"Not much of a tip. Well done steak is awful."
“Oh for crying... I meant the armor.” Cayden shot back, only to realize from her giggles that he'd been played once again. “Do you always mess with your customers like this?”
"Only the new ones and the gloomy ones. You look like a little bit of both."
Cayden winced in spite of himself at her critique of his mood, and to her credit, the girl seemed to notice it. Her expression softened as she observed him, trying to catch his gaze even as he sought to evade hers.
"A friend?" She asked, at last, the sing-song tone of her voice muted.
“A stranger. Someone's dad.”
“Damn.” She reached out, resting a hand on his forearm. When he didn't flinch away, she gave a light squeeze and continued. “I'll talk to the owner about covering your room and meal for the night.”
"I can pay," Cayden responded quickly. He pulled his arm from beneath hers and snapped his fingers twice to bring his AR glasses to life, already reaching for the menu before her hand again gave him pause.
“It isn't a matter of whether you can or not.” She retorted. “Symbal won't take your money tonight, so don't argue.” The slightest hint of a smile crept onto her lips as she studied him. “I'll recommend the roast albieth boar, medium well, like a sane person.”
Cayden locked eyes with her. He held the girl's gaze for several long seconds before it finally became apparent that the battle over his food was one he was going to lose, no matter how picky of an eater he was. "Sounds delicious." He said dryly, before adding. "Any chance I could get a glass of wine with it?"
“Any chance you've got ID?”
“Oh come on. Are you messing with me?”
“I don't make the rules, Symbal does. I just follow them. Boar and some milk coming right up.” She said with a triumphant smirk, turning to leave.
“Hey, what was your name again?” Cayden called out.
"Again? It seems to me this is the first time you've asked." She grinned coquettishly over her shoulder. "I'm Sarah."
* * *
The meal was good. Cayden hated admitting it, but perhaps Sarah wasn't entirely wrong on the subject. Funny to think that of all the crazy things that had happened over the course of a single day, he could add expanding his culinary horizons pretty close to the top of the pile 'good.'
Of course, he hadn't savoured the food so much as he'd devoured it. With a solid middle-class upbringing, Cayden honestly couldn't recall the last time he'd gone so long without eating anything. Particularly on a day so overwhelmed with physical activity. Studies were still ongoing to figure out precisely how being a Player Character altered the individual, but one thing was for sure, he still built up an appetite.
And exhaustion. With a belly full of food it was all he could do to take the offered key from Sarah and trudged his way up the flight of stairs to his assigned suite. It wasn't exactly well appointed, just a single bed, a small desk and a chest to access his stash, but it didn't need to be. He'd barely managed to lock the door behind him and kick off his boots before the siren's song of a spring mattress drew him into darkness.
His dreams were unpleasant. Nothing that he could remember upon waking, just a sense of unease, a dread that lurked at the back of his mind. It was terrible enough that the first two times he woke he decided against getting out of bed, instead choosing to bury down deeper into the covers and pray for a better round of dreams on a second and third attempt.
Perhaps dreams of Sarah.
"Okay, enough of that."
Cayden said to the empty room and his inner pervert. He'd been pondering going for yet another round of snoozing when the thought had crept into his head. He had enough problems without that bouncing around up there while he slept.
Struggling his way out of bed, Cayden plucked his mirror from the bedside table where he'd left it. His glasses had been resting atop it, their battery charging via the small wireless power field the mirror emitted, and he slipped those on as well. It was late, far later in the day than he'd intended. He also had a hell of a lot of missed calls, no doubt friends or family wondering how his first day had gone. Those could wait.
He attended to his morning ablutions, shaving, showering and styling his hair until he looked presentable. The clothes from yesterday were worse for the wear, and absent easy access to laundry he simply tossed them into the open chest at the foot of his bed. His stash could hold a few hundred items and would be shared between any of thousands of such chest the tower over, so it could keep dirty laundry until he figured out precisely where and how people got around to doing laundry in Babel.
It's the things you don't research that kill you. Cayden thought wryly, gathering up his pack and heading for the door. Time for breakfast or rather, lunch, then to get back on schedule.
The common room was significantly less crowded than the evening before as he descended from the second floor. No doubt most of them had done what he had planned to do, getting an early start on the day to take full advantage of the daylight hours. Only a handful of tables were occupied, late risers like himself perhaps, or tradesmen experiencing a midday lull in business.
Curiously, he was drawing glances. A few heads raised as he made his way down the creaky steps, and those same eyes continued to follow him while he pulled up a chair at the same table as the night before.
