Hatchling

Book 1 of the Wyvernette series

By Kaye Fairburn

Copyright © 2017 Kaye Fairburn

Cover art by Paul Davies

First e-book edition.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any forms or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story contains coarse language and, at times, graphic violence of the monster bashing variety. You have been warned.

Visit www.kayefairburn.com and follow Kaye Fairburn on Facebook at www.facebook.com/kayefairburn for more news about upcoming releases.

Subscribe to be notified of new releases, story previews, and special offers from Kaye Fairburn and friends:

http://bit.ly/kayelitrpgnews

Blurb

As a Non-Psionic Contributor (NPC), Margot Hyland is fated to die on a weekly basis to greenskin raids on her hometown. Her life revolves around shoemaking, dying, respawning, and more shoemaking.

When Margot discovers a secret hidden in her family's basement, she realizes she has a chance to break that cycle. Now, with newfound abilities she'll have to learn to control, Margot must brave a harrowing journey ahead of her to defeat the Stronghold targeting her town.

Hatchling is the first book of Wyvernette, a fantasy LitRPG series.

Dedication

This story is dedicated to Miguel, Lexie, and Knorrig for all of their love and support. Without them, none of this would have been possible.

Acknowledgements

This story also wouldn’t have come to fruition without the help of its beta readers. A special thank you goes to Mallory Blankenship, Florian Cadwe, Jennifer Haviland, Cory Grimes, Cesar Garcia, Randall Weeks, Jay Taylor, and Essa Hansen for their invaluable help and feedback.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Codetta

Final Character Sheet

Afterword

Prologue

“You’re mad if you think you’re going to keep that monster.”

Judith’s dagger nearly slipped out of her hand at her mother’s words. She tightened her hold on the handle and took a deep breath of the damp forest air.

Wet leaves stuck to the bottom of her boots. She’d been sliding in them since the start of their shared quest. They needed to kill 20 bandits and they had eight more to go until they reached their mark.

At her feet, lay the twelfth corpse. Although she was more known for her archery skills, Judith had no trouble sneaking up on him with her dagger. She preferred to conserve her arrows.

“Don’t you have something to say?” Cassandra pressed on. Creases lined her face, earned from decades of harrowing adventures. Her gray hair hung messily about her shoulders.

“I was going to tell you. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

Her slain foe’s body melted into nothingness, absorbed into the earth for the Great Mother’s taking. Judith hesitated to pick up the bag of coins the dead bandit yielded.

“I suspected it ever since you came back from your last excursion,” Cassandra said. “You were cradling your stomach. But I kept fooling myself into thinking that no, of course you wouldn’t be carrying. Not you, not my only daughter.”

Judith focused her mind, her Psionic ability allowing her to interface with the Great Mother’s data grid. She accessed her statistics menu. Having her numbers hover in the forefront of her mind gave her something else to concentrate on besides her mother’s disappointed gaze.

[Name: Judith Case

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 23

XP: 3492/9216

Credits: 860

Shell: 82%

Psyche: 72%

Power

Offensive: 5

Defensive: 8

Neutral: 6

Psi

Offensive: 5

Defensive: 11

Neutral: 7

Poise

Offensive: 16

Defensive: 10

Neutral: 7]

The most important value, the Great Mother’s Favor, was missing from her screen. It was her guess as to how badly her transgression had dropped it. Too low, and Judith would no longer be able to respawn to fight another day post-death.

As a Ranked Psionic Contributor, or RPC, it was Judith’s duty to serve the Great Mother through gaining levels and experience points. In exchange, Judith was granted a place in the Great Mother’s hive mind network, as well as attribute enhancements and the usage of Psi.

Non-Psionic Contributors, or NPCs, often confused Psi for magic, but magic was a concept rooted in fantasy. Magic was for the hopeful dreamers and endless wishers. Psi was something concrete, something innate in every RPC. It was the blessing that the Great Mother bestowed upon them.

“To think you’d do something as filthy as lie with an NPC…it’s reprehensible,” Cassandra said. “You’re nineteen years old! You’re not a child anymore. You should’ve known better.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” Judith mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know how it happened! I thought the Great Mother made it impossible for Non-Psionics and Psionics to…to…” She stumbled on her words. “None of my friends have gotten—”

“You’re disgusting,” Cassandra cut her off. “All of you are disgusting and shameless.”

“Like you haven’t done it.”

“I never would have insulted the Great Mother that way, even at your age. I had morals, but you, your sins caught up with you and She cursed your womb. What else have you done on those adventures of yours?”

Judith slid her dagger back into her scabbard. The bandit’s blood had already faded away. “Nothing but what I needed to do to get points. It was just one mistake.”

One night of folly and reckless abandonment that logically shouldn’t have resulted in anything.

“It’s a lot more than just a mistake. You’re harboring a glitch that could kill you. You’ll never regain the Great Mother’s Favor if you raise that thing,” Cassandra warned. “Is that glitch worth giving up Salvation for? You have to make the right decision about this, Judith.”

Cassandra was reaching the age where the Great Mother would show her the Final System Message. It was said that those with the highest amount of Favor would be offered Salvation into a higher plane of existence, while the others would have their essence recycled into a new Psionic. The worst of them would have to return as a Non-Psionic or some other lowly creature, remembering nothing of their old life.

“I know,” Judith said numbly. She looked up at the sky, viewing it through the gaps in the tree leaves hanging overhead.

Every once in a while, she spotted glimpses of her wyvern soaring through the air. Griseldis’ powerful, bat-like wings kept her heavy reptilian body in flight. From Judith’s vantage point, Griseldis looked no bigger than a feather pen, but in reality, she rivaled castles in size.

“Have you made your decision, then? Will you continue to spite the Great Mother or not?” Cassandra asked. She didn’t mince her words.

Judith turned away and readjusted the quiver of arrows she had strapped to her back.

Keep the glitch-child and commit a horrible act of treason in the process, or free herself of the burden and spend a lifetime trying to right her wrongdoing… The thing inside of her was proof of the Great Mother’s condemnation. What she chose to do with it was part of Judith’s test, to see if she could walk on the right path.

To raise it would be a travesty, but to abandon it…

All her life Judith had been a dutiful RPC. One slip-up and the Great Mother had taken revenge on her in the worst way. What if more than her womb had been cursed? What if the glitch was eating her alive, draining her of her Psyche? What if she’d lose access to the Great Mother’s network?

Failure wasn’t an option. Judith had to do the right thing for everyone involved.

“I’ve made my decision,” she said. “I know what I have to do.”

Judith placed her hand over her stomach.

The glitch-child kicked.

Chapter 1

Margot Hyland died every Raid Day at 10 AM sharp. No matter where she was in her town or what she was doing at the time, she would die.

Death came in many forms. Once, she was too slow to get out of bed, and a group of kobolds rampaged through her family home and stabbed her dead. Another time, she was in the Hyland Workshop, in the middle of resoling a pair of work boots when a goblin archer shot an arrow through the window and right into her head.

Running just turned her into a moving target. Hiding always ended in the enemy monsters dragging her out of her hiding place and dragging a knife across her throat.

Such was the life of an NPC, or Non-Psionic Contributor, in Patchwork Town. Patchwork Town NPCs died on a weekly basis to a random monster or beast attack, respawned with their Shells fully restored, and got back to their crafting work only to be killed again when it was time.

Crafting and other subservient work around town gave them points that they couldn’t see for a Favor rating they couldn’t see, either. According to the town Clerics’ teachings, dying cut into their points, which in turn adversely affected their Favor. Dying without meeting a certain threshold of Favor meant you couldn’t come back.

No respawn; end of story.

Margot had seen it happen to a boy her age a few years back. He decided he didn’t want to craft and sell hard candy to any of the Ranked Psionic Contributors, or RPCs, rolling through their town anymore. The next time the Raid Day monsters came, he was killed and never respawned. His family was devastated.

Everyone worked harder after that.

The Raid Day monsters streamed in from the Stronghold outside of Patchwork Town. It was a fortress that was somehow linked to the Great Mother, outfitted with its own Core that allowed it to generate monsters to swarm Margot’s community. Rumor had it that the Core rested on the uppermost level of the Stronghold, but Margot had never seen it for herself.

Their bodies too weak to fight back, the NPCs could only die while the stronger-bodied RPCs got to play hero. The glory was theirs to take as the Psionics wiped out the waves of monsters. Then, once it was all over and taken care of, Margot would wake up at her respawn point—it was usually set to her bed so she could cry about her phantom pains in private—and get onto a new cycle of work, work, more work, death, and work again.

Her shirt, drenched in the blood from her latest beheading that morning, dried as she made her way down the stairs of the split-level Hyland family home. They lived modestly, bringing in enough Credits to pay for the necessities and not much more than that.

By the time she reached the bottom step, the blood was gone like it had never been there in the first place. Without looking outside, Margot knew the town’s corpses had disappeared, too. The Great Mother liked keeping a clean killing floor.

Lucille Hyland huddled by the fireplace, her hands held near it for warmth. They were half-sisters, but everyone referred to them as twins because they were both in diapers at the same time. They’d been inseparable from birth, never apart in their seventeen years of existence. She looked over at Margot and grinned, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“I thought you’d never wake up. You were sleeping like a brick,” Lucille said. “Mom and Dad are already at the workshop.”

Margot rubbed her neck, reliving her recent death. “Did you see what happened to me back there?”

“Yeah. It was brutal.” Lucille grabbed the fireplace poker. She pushed aside the wood and ashes to dampen the embers.

“But did you see the Psionic standing there completely frozen, like I wasn’t about to get my head chopped off? He didn’t do anything. He just waited.”

“Well, you know what Mom and Dad would say. Everyone’s fulfilling their role for the Great Mother.” She buried the fires, then closed the fireplace doors. The trapped smoke clouded the glass.

“Okay, but their role is to kill monsters, right? So why do they wait until we’re dead to start doing that?”

“Because our role is to die? I don’t know, why don’t you ask one of them?” Lucille stood up. She placed the fireplace poker back into its holding vessel, the metal clanging and vibrating together.

Gentleness eluded Lucille in nearly everything she did. Countless missions of “let’s steal the cookies off the counter before Mom notices” had been lost thanks to her stomping feet. Plates were chipped from her putting them down too harshly. There was a hole in their bedroom wall from her slamming the door open after they returned home from the evening classes they used to take.

The one thing she did gracefully was play the clavichord, a precursor to the piano. Lucille was a natural at it, her talent far surpassing her sister’s. Had it been possible, Lucille would’ve been a bard, and a damn good one at that.

Unfortunately, such a thing was out of reach for an NPC in her position. She had a quota of shoes to create for the Great Mother, or GM, that watched over everyone in Patchwork Town. She needed to earn her points so she could respawn. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day for frivolous hobbies.

Work, dinner, and then bed. On occasion, they would attend secondary courses after their working day, but they were optional. They lived in a town of workers, not scholars. Scholarship was reserved for Psionics who had the time for it between their adventuring and whatever else they did for the Great Mother.

Even without an academically-focused upbringing, Margot considered herself to be well-read by Patchwork Town standards. It was within the pages of a book that she could escape from her dreary lot in life.

“I think those RPCs would sooner spit on my shoes than answer one of my questions. They’re wretched.” Margot fixed her long dark hair into a ponytail to get it off of her neck. Dying in her work clothes meant that she could head out the door without further delay.

They locked the door behind them when they left.

Built following a symmetrical grid system, Patchwork Town was a simple place where every building looked more or less the same. Plain, non-descript rooftops rested over blocky stone and wood structures. If it weren’t for the street signs, Margot had a feeling the RPC tourists would never make it out of Patchwork Town’s maze-like interior.

A young boy raced by the girls, chasing after a loose chicken. In a few years, starting on his twelfth birthday, he would be expected to work for points like all of the others. Children under that age were unaffected by the Great Mother’s Favor system.

Shirtless men pushed wheelbarrows along the streets, their carts jostled by the cobblestones. Their faces full of sweat, they were too focused on their work to return Margot and Lucille’s greetings of hello. The twins didn’t take it to heart.

A girl with a bundle of newspapers called out for attention. She shouted out the latest gossip in hopes that it would hook someone’s interest. It seemed to work because a couple strode over to talk with her about an RPC they saw during the most recent attack, some famous Paladin or another.

Looters shamelessly scoured the streets for fallen coins, desperate for any Credits they could find in the cracks. One of the nearby shopkeepers used her broom to shoo them away from her storefront. They scampered into the alleyways like rats scared out of hiding, off to the next area where they could score easy money.

A pocket full of Credits wouldn’t be enough to save them in the next round of pillaging. The GM’s Favor involved something more than material wealth and earnings. It took work, like the kind Margot and Lucille were about to get started on if it weren’t for the four Psionics gathered outside the Hyland Workshop.

They were clogging the doorway. No amount of throat clearing got them to turn around, which was typical of Psionic Contributors. They acted like everyone else was invisible and beneath them.

Technically, in the scheme of the GM’s grand plans, Margot and her kind actually were beneath them, but that didn’t mean they had to be treated that way.

“Can we help you with anything?” Margot asked, punctuating her question with a stomp of her foot to make sure they definitely heard her.

At that slam of a sound, the Psionics finally acknowledged the Hyland girls standing behind them. They were elaborately dressed in crossed leathers and robes of brown and white. Vambraces etched with swirl patterns and triangular symbols covered their arms. Their weapons, blades of various lengths, were worn in scabbards at their hips.

Margot eyed them warily. Town laws forbid Non-Psionics from carrying weapons, but RPCs were free to do as they pleased in exchange for their so-called protection on Raid Days.

“We’re waiting to get our boots shined,” one of the RPCs said. His pale skin was so close to his white-blonde hair color that his hairline didn’t seem to exist. It was a smooth transition from forehead to slick-back without a clear starting or stopping point.

The other three were less frightening to look at, thankfully. A redhead with a splatter of freckles across his face, slender of build. A dark-haired man with a curved nose bridge and an unruly beard, which he wouldn’t stop scratching. A blue-eyed woman who stood second tallest in the group, her height helped by heeled boots that looked entirely impractical for a battlefield.

“This is a workshop. We don’t shine anything here,” Margot said. “Try the shoe store on Cardin Street. They’ll help you with what you need.”

“Excuse us,” Lucille chirped.

The Hyland sisters tried pushing past them.

They didn’t move.

“We were told to wait right here,” the ghostly blonde man said.

“Well, you must be mistaken, because we’re cobblers, not bootblacks. Go see Eloise on Cardin Street. She’s who we sell to, and she has a son who will gladly take care of your shoes for Credits,” Margot explained.

Jon would be overjoyed at the opportunity. He worshipped the ground that Psionic Contributors walked on. Margot wouldn’t have been shocked if he’d kiss their boots after he was done polishing them. He was that much of a kiss ass.

The man flashed a row of straight teeth at her. “I don’t think we’re the ones who are mistaken. We’re being waited on.”

“Yeah, by no one.” Margot’s nerves were being tested.

“By Edgar and Helena. Lovely couple,” he said.

“You can come in now!” Edgar Hyland called from inside the workshop. The four Psionics filed in. Dumbfounded, Margot followed in after them. Lucille wore a similar look of confusion on her face as she surveyed the scene.

The two long tables where the Hylands did their work had been shoved off into the corner of the one-room building. The leather hide piles were stacked up, no longer hanging up on lines stretched from wall-to-wall. Their pattern sheets were set aside along with their shoemaking supplies, like their needles, threads, awls, and more.

Someone had tidied up Margot’s half of the workbench she shared with her sister. The partially finished moccasins she had been sewing together were stuffed into a basket. Her sketchbook was elsewhere, and who knew where her quill pen had run off to? The hide scraps she had been assessing were gone, as well. She admitted that her table had been a mess of leatherwork, but it was an organized chaos no one else should have touched.

Four chairs were set up with foot stools in front of them. Buffing brushes, clean rags, and a bucket of what Margot guessed was a beeswax and oil mixture for optimum polishing, sat close by.

Her arms tensed as the Psionics took their seats.

“These are our daughters Margot and Lucille,” Edgar introduced them. “Girls, please say hello to our guests. We will be giving them a quality shoe shining service today.”

What the perma-death had her parents signed them up for?

Lucille bowed her head. “Hello, and welcome to our workshop.”

Margot mumbled her greeting. “Yep, welcome.”

Helena Hyland, her step-mother, shot Margot a stern look, a warning for her to stay on her best behavior. She was a willowy woman, the sort of person who looked like she would fly away in a windstorm. Her graying hair was in a loose bun.

Edgar kneeled before the white-blonde. He took his leather boot into his hands, examining it and determining its needs while chatting with the man. Helena did the same with the bearded guy, which left the redhead and the woman for Lucille and Margot to pick between.

“You take her,” Margot whispered. “She’s wearing Diallos. Those cost more than our entire inventory put together.”

“Oh, Great Mother, those are Diallo shoes! No way am I touching those. I’ll ruin them,” Lucille whispered back.

“I don’t want my head cut off twice in one day.”

“I’m taking the other guy. Good luck.”

“We’ll play for it. Roshambo.”

Not one to back down from a challenge, Lucille grinned. “You’re on.”

They counted off three beats, then threw out their hand symbols. Margot picked scissors. Lucille chose rock, and won, because rocks smashed tools just like how reality crushed Margot’s hopes for a normal and carefree life.

“Best two-out-of-three,” Margot tried.

“Girls,” Helena sharply said.

Lucille laughed, then took her spot in front of the redheaded boy.

Margot grumbled to herself and got down to one knee to check out the woman’s obnoxiously heeled boots. The stitch work was nigh on impressive. Margot ran her finger across the leather, feeling the hide taken from an exotic northern beast. She recognized the subtle pattern in its skin.

Mirth filled the woman’s blue eyes. “If you do a good job, I’ll give you a nice tip.”

Hearing the youthfulness of her voice made Margot realize she may have clocked her age incorrectly. Up close, she seemed more like she was right around Margot’s years. Differences in circumstances had leant her a physical maturity that Margot envied. Had she been an adventurer, too, no doubt Margot would be just as fit as this other girl. Maybe even more so.

“Thanks,” Margot said. She lifted up a brush.

“Oh, don’t use that one. You should start with the cloth first.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job and I won’t tell you how to do yours, okay?” She plastered a smile on her face to lessen the heat in her statement.

“You called yourself a cobbler, not a bootblack. I was only making a suggestion.”

“What’s your name?”

“Delwen Adair. Are you Margot or Lucille? I didn’t catch it when he said it.”

“Margot, ending in a silent T.” Not that Delwen would ever need to write Margot’s name, but in the interest of making conversation that revolved around something other than shoe shining, Margot felt she should say it.

She wiped the cloth across Delwen’s boots to make sure they were perfectly dry before she began.

“That’s a pretty name,” Delwen said. “It suits you.”

“I can say the same thing about yours. Are you part of a guild?” Margot used the polish brush to cover Delwen’s left boot in the oil and beeswax mixture. She worked one foot at a time.

“Did the matching outfits give us away? I find them so dull. The only pizzazz I could add was in my footwear.”

“You sure did. Do you fight in these?”

Delwen laughed. “Goodness, no, but with the level of action we saw today I might as well have kept them on. Defending Patchwork Town’s supposed to be an exciting quest, but it nearly put me to sleep.”

Margot switched brushes. “Sorry we’re so boring.”

“It’s not your fault. I think there were some idiots camping out by the Stronghold. The point of the quest is to let the monsters come into Patchwork Town, not stop them at the pass. You don’t get credit for the ones you kill outside the town.”

“And then you let the monsters kill us while you watch.” Margot tightened her hold on the brush handle. Her fake smile became harder to maintain.

“It helps them be worth more points,” Delwen explained. “Luckily, the quest here happens on a loop so we’ll have another go at it next week. I’m aiming to have the most kills. I usually do, I mean, I am at Level 17 for a reason. Someday I’m going to be one of the only Psionics to reach the big 120. I’m making great progress.”

Levels were something reserved for Psionics. Non-Psionics didn’t have them, as far as Margot knew.

“I think those idiots outside the town had the right idea.” Margot buffed her shining brush into the leather. “You’d do a better job of defending us if you took down the Stronghold.”

Delwen rolled her eyes. “You obviously don’t know anything. Destroying the Stronghold’s Core would end this quest line. That’s blasphemy of the highest degree.”

Margot put more pressure on Delwen’s boot than necessary. “You care more about the quest than the people of this town, huh? You just see us as a bunch of points and numbers and whatever data you’re seeing. All you care about are your shitty levels.”

“Don’t speak to me so casually, cobbler. You don’t know who I am.”

“I know exactly who you are. You Psionics are all the same, acting like you’re so important and special, like we’re supposed to fall at your feet for all that you do, but guess what? You’re not special. You’re a bunch of numbers for the GM, too!”

“Hey, watch the shoes!”

In her anger, Margot roughly streaked the leather. She dropped her brush to the floor upon realization.

That was also when it dawned on her how loud she had been speaking. Helena blanched paler than the ghostly man. Lucille covered her face, peeking out between her fingers. Edgar shook his head in a slow back-and-forth turn of disapproval. The other RPCs seemed amused at their companion’s horror.

“These cost a fortune, you insolent wench,” Delwen seethed.

“Then buy yourself a new pair with your Level 17 ass since you’re so great,” Margot shot back.

“I climbed the highest cliffs in the north for these!”

“And how many NPCs died for those boots? Did you ever think of that?”

“There’s about to be one more if you don’t stand down, little girl.”

“Little girl? I bet I’m taller than you when you don’t have your stilts on. Overcompensation, much, shorty?”

“That’s enough!” Edgar bellowed. “Margot, you will apologize to the young lady this instance. I am sincerely sorry, ma’am, it appears that my daughter has forgotten her manners. She will fix her mistake at once.”

“Please don’t hold her lack of self-control against her. She was born impulsive and terribly willful,” Helena added. “I will personally see to it that she is punished for this.”

The gleam in Helena’s eye caused Margot’s stomach to flip. Her step-mother was never light-handed in her punishments. It was like she took a sick glee out of hurting her. Things only got worse when Margot fought back. What would it be this time? The belt or the measuring stick?

Margot stood, her fists held up for defense.

Defiance shot through her.

“You come anywhere near me and you’ll regret it,” Margot said. “Same goes for any of you Psionics! I’ll take you all on.”

The white-blonde man spoke to his neighbor, “Now this is entertaining. I’m beginning to like Patchwork Town.”

“Agreed. Let’s extend our stay,” the bearded guy said.

“Margot, leave. You are embarrassing us,” Edgar said. He got up to direct her to the door.

“You’re the one who embarrassed us by being so spineless as to not tell them to go to Cardin Street. We’re not shoeshiners! What’s next, are you going to pretend to be a pie maker when the next Psionic begs for one? Where does it end, Dad? You have to end it somewhere.”

The redheaded RPC whooped at that.

“Get. Out.” Edgar grabbed her arm.

Margot shook out of his grip. “No! I’m staying here and doing the work I’m supposed to be doing. You never should’ve swallowed your pride for these people. Order them out.”

Not saying another word, Edgar seized her by the collar. He lifted her up off of her feet. She shrieked, and beat her fists against his chest to get him to let her go. If anything was embarrassing, it was his cowardice and his refusal to stand up for his family. Like every other NPC, he just took the shit the RPCs and GM flung at him.

Margot would never stoop that low.

Bang!

Edgar dropped Margot in surprise. The shock to her knees almost made her fall over.

Lucille had kicked the wax and oil tub onto its side. Its contents spilled out onto the floor. She grabbed Margot by the hand and ran out of the workshop at full speed.

Glancing over her shoulder, Margot could see her parents’ disappointed glares boring a hole into her. The unnamed Psionics laughed among themselves. Delwen Adair had the very look of evil incarnate etched onto her features.

Margot had a feeling Delwen would make her pay for those boots, somehow and some way.

Chapter 2

The Hyland sisters didn’t stop running until they reached the forest outside of the town. The tall trees shaded them from the sun, the branches twisting out into clusters far above them. A breeze pushed a swirl of leaves along. Margot held her hand out to catch them, but missed.

Lucille scraped the moss off of a large rock with her foot, then took a seat. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.

Margot couldn’t stay still. She paced in a circle, her heart thundering in her chest.

They were within the limits of what was considered safe in the outskirts of Patchwork Town. If they went further, they would put themselves at the mercy of whatever monsters lurked in the woods. Having just died, a second death so soon would be a gamble, a toss-up on whether or not they had the Favor required to respawn again.

“What was that about?” Lucille asked.

“She pissed me off. You should’ve heard her,” Margot said. “She kept going on and on about quest lines and not giving a shit about us. I couldn’t stand it.”

“But was that the best way to go about things? You have to control your temper.”

“You sound like your mother.”

“She’s your mom, too.”

“Step-mother,” Margot corrected. “My real mom’s nothing like Helena. No offense. Dad told me all about her. We’re a lot alike. Same eyes and smile. Apparently when my hair’s shorter, I’m the spitting image of her.”

Edgar only talked about her mother when he was drunk. Even then, he kept the woman enshrouded in mystery. Margot didn’t know much about her beyond her likes (sunny weather, reptilian animals, and fine wine), dislikes (sour fruit, frivolous spending, and doing laundry), and her main hobby of bookbinding.

Sometimes, Margot wondered if she ever came across a book her mother bound. Learning that had helped spark her interest in the craftsmanship of books and later, a love for the text within the margins.

No matter how drunk her father got, however, he never revealed the woman’s name.

“I’m sorry she passed away before you got to meet her,” Lucille said.

“It’s okay. If what they say about Salvation is true, then I’ll be meeting her someday.”

Margot’s mother had died in childbirth and, due to a lack of Favor, hadn’t respawned. A perma-death. She must have miscalculated her crafting quota. Either that, or she just gave up on her life. She couldn’t deal with the horrible hand she’d been dealt as a Non-Psionic.

“Oh, wait, no, we won’t meet each other there,” Margot said bitterly, “because Salvation’s something that’s for Psionics. The GM doesn’t care about saving NPCs.”

“We can be saved,” Lucille said.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

Lucille fidgeted. “I don’t know. I kind of feel like I have to believe it. We keep our Favor up and good things are supposed to happen to us.”

“When are they going to happen to us? We’re out here every day busting our asses for nothing. No one cares about us. Not the Psionics. Not the Great Mother.” Margot’s pulse raced.

“You know sometimes, Margot, I get these real bad thoughts in my head.” Lucille put her head in her hands. “I think them all the time, but I can’t say them out loud.”

“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me.”

Lucille whispered, like she was afraid of someone listening in. “I think that Salvation’s a concept someone invented to keep us in line. But the thing is, Favor is a very real thing. People don’t come back without it. And we have to think about our Favor all the time because of how weak our Shells are. It’s not fair.”

“What if it’s not just Salvation? What if it’s the Great Mother that’s made up, too?”

“That’d be… You don’t believe the GM’s real? How do you explain how we’re living, then?”

“She’s real, but not real. Our world works like this, sure, but who knows if there’s actually a GM orchestrating everything? What if it’s just the way things function? And the Clerics keep telling us about a GM so we don’t buck the system. All because we’re afraid of losing our Favor.”

“That’d be wild if it was true.” Lucille whistled.

“Meanwhile, the Psionics get to prance around on their adventures, doing whatever they want to do. Fighting. Killing monsters. Letting us die. I doubt they think about Favor as much as we do.” Margot picked up a stick. She swung it a few times to test its weight.

“It’s like we’re props in their stories,” Lucille said.

“I know! We’re the Hylands. We’re no one’s props.” She pointed her ‘weapon’ to the sky.

Margot’s spike of energy was infectious. Lucille jumped up to a stand, then looked for a broken stick of her own to wield. Once she found one, she raised it straight up like her sister did. Had anyone heard them, they would’ve been labelled heathens and more than likely ousted from Patchwork Town. Speaking ill of the GM was that bad.

Exile was a death sentence, a real and permanent one they wouldn’t be able to respawn from. They wouldn’t know how to survive out there, not with their bodies that were prone to disaster. It’d be a tragedy they could’ve easily avoided by just shutting up and keeping their heads down.

Margot couldn’t put her sister through that.

Her buzz of rebellion dying down, Margot lowered her arm to her side. Regret set in. It seeped in like a sickly stain.

Surely, Lucille would be punished for kicking the wax and oil bucket over and running away with Margot. Whatever happened to her would be Margot’s fault. She dragged her right into her mess, and it wasn’t like it was the first time such a thing had happened.

Had physical scars stayed with them, Lucille would’ve had one from a belt buckle, right across her eyebrow, earned from her trying to intervene in the middle of one of Margot’s punishments. The girl was too protective for her own good.

“Hey, next time I do something stupid and totally boneheaded, you’re allowed to stay out of it. I won’t hold it against you,” Margot said, her voice more quiet than it had been at the start of their conversation.

“I couldn’t sit there and watch Dad toss you out like that.”

“Maybe I deserved it…just a little bit. I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me. I can handle everything myself, alright?”

Lucille shrugged. “If you feel that awful about it, you can buy me an apple fritter from Alfred’s. Make sure there’s extra sugar on top.”

“I’ll buy you two if it’ll get you to stop helping me,” Margot said.

“I’ll split the second one with—” Her sentence broke off in the middle, her eyes widening. “Do you hear that?”

Margot used her stick to poke Lucille in the side. “Hear what?”

“Shhh. Cut that out. Listen.” Lucille poked her back.

It sounded a lot like a sheet being shook out, like when it takes on wind and gets all puffy right before being smoothed over a mattress. An unfurling. It was like that, but much heavier and faster in its intensity.

“Something’s flapping. Wings?” Margot wondered out loud.

“An adventure! What if it’s a quest line the Psionics don’t know about yet?”

“Perfect, then it’ll be something else for them not to give a damn about,” Margot said. She tossed her stick away. It met its end in a snap against a tree. “Let’s get going home. I want to get whatever punishment Helena has in mind over with.”

Lucille frowned. “You don’t want to investigate?”

Margot’s eyes lingered on the darker parts of the woods for a moment, staring into the shadows she could scarcely discern. Beyond where they stood existed unfathomable dangers, things that Lucille didn’t deserve to be mixed up in. Even if they had more certainty in their Favor ratings, Margot couldn’t keep pulling her sister into harm’s way.

“Nope. C’mon, maybe the faster we get back, the less badly we’ll be knocked around.”

A creature cried, somewhere deep in the forest.

Lucille dropped her stick, and the Hyland girls started off on their walk back home.

***

Perhaps Helena heeded Margot’s warning from their spat in the workshop, but for whatever reason, neither Hyland sister met belt nor switch nor any other material weapon of choice. Instead, their parents decided to wield silence and a heavy air of disappointment.

No one spoke at the dinner table that night. They ate roasted bird smothered in a spicy sauce that had Margot reaching for her milk jar after every bite. Bitter greens served as a palate cleanser that Margot wished she had a palate cleanser for. She spent an inordinate amount of time scraping the taste out of her mouth when she brushed her teeth.

Life continued on, as it was wont to do. The Hyland Workshop went back to fulfilling its main purpose. They sliced leathers according to shoe patterns, stitched them into shape, and crafted the footwear they were known for. The family worked together to gain the points that they couldn’t see.

Edgar and Helena’s silence persisted.

At the end of every working day, Margot and Lucille took the shoes their family had finished to Eloise’s shoe store on Cardin Street. Whenever they showed up, Jon, Eloise’s son, begged them to stay and listen to his latest run-in with this famous RPC or that famous RPC. The sisters excused themselves every time.

Eventually, their parents lifted their veil of silence. Edgar cracked first. He wanted their opinion on which colors made for the most aesthetically pleasing two-toned look. Talking about work allowed them to ease their way into other topics of conversation.

Helena remained terse with Margot, but that was normal behavior for her.

“Would you pour me a bit of wine, dear?” Helena asked her.

The family sat around the dinner table, plates of food in front of them. The meal had been a long, drawn-out affair thanks to the toughness of the fowl. Margot chewed so long on a single morsel that her jaw ached.

If overcooking food was a crime, Helena would’ve been put under the jail. Her beef patties had to be a step past well-done, her steaks couldn’t have any redness, and her birds had to be tortured of flavor and juiciness. The Hylands might as well have been eating dried-out jerky.

Margot swallowed the piece of meat. It sucked all of the moisture from her mouth. She coughed. “Yeah, sure.”

Lucille beat her to the bottle before she could reach it. “I’ve got it!”

Being the dainty and elegant young woman she was, Lucille poured the burgundy wine into her mother’s glass with the utmost poise. Not a drop of it spilled onto the table. Everything, from their grandmother’s hand-sewn table cloth to the dress Helena wore, remained untouched by splashes of red.

Or at least, that’s what everyone wished had happened.

Instead, Lucille knocked over Edgar’s glass just as she stood up to pour wine into Helena’s. Her father’s shout of surprise startled her into missing her target, and the red liquid poured onto the table cloth. In her attempt to pull the bottle back upright, the contents splattered upwards and over Helena’s dress.

Margot covered her mouth to muffle her laughter.

“I’m sorry!” Lucille went for the napkins and proceeded to knock over Margot’s water glass. It soaked through the table cloth.

“Enough! Don’t you dare move,” Edgar said.

Helena looked like she was about to cry. “I’m going to go change.” She left in a hurry.

“I’m really sorry,” Lucille repeated.

“This is why she didn’t ask you to pour anything,” Margot said. “You’re all thumbs.”

Edgar stood up. “Salt. Salt will soak up the stains. We’ve got some up here that’ll take care of half of the table. Margot, go to the basement and bring up a salt block for the grinder.”

“Got it,” Margot said.

“What do I do?” Lucille asked.

“Nothing. You sit there and don’t touch a single thing,” Edgar said.

Lucille hung her head. Poor girl. She was a hero without meaning to be. Her flub rescued everyone from that sorry excuse for a dinner. Grinning to herself about that, Margot left them and went to the basement.

She kept the door open to provide light.

The basement was only partially finished, and not at all a place where people would want to stand in for long. When it rained, the dirt floors turned into mud. An inexplicable draft constantly blew in from who-knows-where. The wall sconces were askew, and nobody had bothered to hammer them into better positions.

The Hyland family used the space for storing non-perishables. Margot made her way through it, careful of her steps in the limited light coming from upstairs.

“Ow!” Apparently, she wasn’t careful enough, because she stubbed her toe on a box. She regretted not bringing a candle. In her haste and amusement, she had forgotten to do the sensible thing.

Relying on memory, Margot edged over to the far wall of the room. Her hand found the shelf where they kept random spices, unwanted plates, and wedding gifts her parents refused to get rid of for some reason. She stooped to search for a salt brick.

Her happiness was short-lived when what she thought was salt turned out to be lavender soap. Margot moved along the wall to the next shelf. She found a paper-wrapped block and tore into its wrapping for confirmation.

Something skittered in the room.

She dropped the salt and froze, listening out for the source of the sound.

When it seemed like it had only been her imagination, Margot breathed a sigh of relief. She lowered herself to the ground. Her hands roamed the earth for the fallen brick. The dirt floor was hard and packed in until a certain point close to the space beneath the shelving unit.

Margot wormed her fingers into the softness. There was something hidden, buried inside of it. Leather. Four corners. Something like a fancy, well-kept shoebox. She dragged it out and shook the dirt off of it.

Whoever had put it there hadn’t wanted anyone else to see it, that much was certain. The polite thing to do would be to stick it back where she found it, and pretend like it didn’t exist. But in the same way that Lucille wasn’t dainty, Margot wasn’t polite, so she brought the box over to the stairs to give it a look in better lighting.

Margot popped the lid off.

There was a hardbound notebook and a double-wing necklace inside. She lifted the book, opened it to its first page, and nearly lost her breath in that same instance.

Staring back at her was an illustration of a woman, not much older than Margot. The woman had a fierce, strong gaze on her face. She was in the middle of drawing back her bowstring, her arrow nocked and ready to fire at an off-page enemy.

Behind her was a majestic reptilian creature. It resembled a serpent, its eyes darkly shaded and angular. Frills rose off of its head. Ridges bumped along its back. Scales that must have been painful to draw adorned the creature’s entirety. Its leathery wings came out of where the shoulders would’ve been, had it had arms.

The illustrator had the talent to make every texture on what Margot assumed was a dragon come alive.

It stood on two legs that ended in menacing talon-like claws. As if that wasn’t enough for it to be intimidating, the creature sported a barbed tail. The artist had added a shine to it.

Her hand shaking, she turned the page.

Text written in a gentle hand filled the paper. It began:

Hello Little One,

I know not what to write, but I feel compelled to do so. This is difficult for me. I couldn’t decide at first if it was crueler to create this notebook for you or to walk away from you without saying anything at all. Just by reading this, you run the risk of having your life disrupted. I apologize for disturbing you.

In the end, my selfishness won out. That is why you are holding a book that will contain my ramblings. Right now, I am unsure as to what I will write exactly. I think I would like to tell you about my life, my wyvern, and my adventures.

My name is Judith Case. As I write this, I am a Level 23 Wyvern Tamer, also known as a Wyvernette. My highest number is a 16 in Offensive Poise and my lowest number is a 5 in Offensive Power. I prefer to use ranged weaponry. My wyvern’s name is Griseldis. I will write down our statistics for you on the next page.

Before I begin, here is a short about me: I enjoy sunny seasons. Griseldis means the world to me. There is no better wine than wine from the Bohn Valley. Sour fruit makes me sad. I am tight with my money. Something always seems to go wrong when I do my laundry. And I bound this book myself. Bookbinding is a hobby of mine.

If you share any of those traits, you now know that you got them from your mother.

Margot shut the book.

She placed it back into the box.

The room swirled around her. Everything swam before her vision. Her hands, the box in her lap, all of those things blurred out of focus. Margot timed her breaths. Inhale, one, two; exhale, three, four.

“Would you hurry up with the salt?” Edgar barked from upstairs.

Damn the stupid salt. How could her father have kept this notebook a secret from her? He hid the truth for seventeen years! Seventeen years spent hating a life she never had to live. Seventeen years spent not knowing who her mother was.

Margot Hyland was the daughter of a Wyvern Tamer, a Wyvernette. Her name was Judith Case and she was a Ranked Psionic Contributor, which meant that Margot was… She was something that defied everything she’d learned about RPC and NPC relations. An anomaly. A glitch in the GM’s system.

“Margot!” Edgar shouted.

She clutched the box tightly in her hands and stomped up the stairs. Margot went straight to the dining table. Helena had joined Edgar and Lucille, wearing a different dress. Piles of salt were sprinkled about the wine stains. Edgar shifted them about for more coverage, not looking up from his work.

Lucille rotated her chair towards Margot. “What’s that?”

“Bring the salt here,” Edgar said.

Helena pulled on his sleeve. “Edgar.”

“What?” He finally looked up from the table. “What…where did you find that? Put that ratty thing in the trash and do what I asked. I’m going to count to three.”

“You know what this is. Don’t pretend like you don’t,” Margot said.

“It’s garbage. A box of old scraps,” Edgar said. He moved to take it from her. Helena grabbed his arm to hold him back.

“You kept it?” Helena’s voice cracked like she was swallowing back a sob.

Margot spoke before Edgar could defend himself. “He buried it in the basement.”

“What’s in the box?” Lucille asked.

“My mom’s notebook. A necklace she left for me. The truth about me!”

“You were never supposed to find that,” her father said.

“Why didn’t you burn it?” Helena covered her face with her hands. “You told me you did. You lied to me. You lied!”

“I…” Edgar’s mouth hung open.

“Margot, what? What’s the truth about you?” Lucille got up to stand beside her sister. Their parents stood at the opposite end of the table.

“My mom’s a Psionic. It’s true, isn’t it? That’s why you hid it from me. Is she even dead? She’s alive out there somewhere, isn’t she? Don’t just stand there staring at me. Say something! Tell me what’s going on. Explain everything!”

“Go to your room,” Edgar said, “both of you, and don’t you come out. You’re grounded.” He pointed to the stairs, his hand trembling.

Helena lowered her hands. Tears ran down her face. It twisted like a knife in her gut for Margot to see her step-mother like that. “You tell her or I’m leaving you like I should have,” Helena said.

“Mom,” Lucille said. She closed her eyes to keep from crying in sympathy.

Edgar looked at Helena in horror. “Helena, you wouldn’t.”

“Twins! We thought we could get away with pretending that you were twins, but then Margot turned out looking just like her. Oh, Great Mother, I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. Edgar, you tell her. Tell her what you did to me.”

“She doesn’t need to hear that.”

“They should know what kind of man you are!”

“Girls, your room. Now.”

Margot asked, “Is she alive?”

“Edgar lied to you. Judith didn’t die when she had you. She dumped you on our doorstep with that box,” Helena said. “That box he promised me he got rid of. How could I have been so stupid?” She turned and walked out of the room.

Edgar stood still. He watched his wife leave.

Lucille took Margot by the crook of her arm. “Let’s give Mom and Dad some privacy. We’ll be back later tonight, Dad.”

He didn’t say anything.

Margot didn’t know what to say, either. She could have yelled at him more, but it would’ve been endlessly cruel to kick him while he was down. Helena had dealt him a critical blow that rendered him speechless.

Or maybe that had been Margot’s doing. The box had obviously been in the ground for a reason. She just had to go and uncover it and confront him about it in front of everyone. She might have destroyed Edgar and Helena’s marriage in the process.

Their family’s secrets ran deeper than she thought.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Regret. There it was, popping back up after the fact.

Lucille tugged on her.

Without another word, the Hyland sisters departed their home for the outskirts of town.

Edgar’s distraught expression stayed with Margot.

Chapter 3

They found themselves in their usual place outside of Patchwork Town, only this time their positions were reversed from where they had been days ago. Lucille paced back and forth, a lit lantern held aloft in her hands. She had grabbed it from where it sat outside their house.

Margot sat on a large rock, the book in her lap. She thumbed through its ink-laden pages.

“I think I broke Helena,” Margot said.

Lucille didn’t stop her pacing. “Mom will be okay. She’ll bounce back and so will Dad and everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know about that. Things looked pretty damn bad to me.”

“They always bounce back.” Lucille shrugged. “Enough about that, though! You’re a Great Motherfreaking Psionic and you never even knew it. What’s it feel like? Can you use Psi? What’s your Talent?”

Margot held up her hands. “Whoa. You mind slowing down a little?”

“Sorry, I just—I don’t even know what to think about it.” Lucille stopped in her tracks.

“Same here,” Margot said.

“So?”

“So what?”

“So what does it feel like? You can’t leave me hanging here,” Lucille said.

“It feels the same as it always does,” Margot replied. “I don’t have special eyes, I can’t conjure up any magical stuff, and I have no idea what my Talent is. If I’m a Psionic, I’m the most broken Psionic there is.”

She had a handful of new information about herself, but other than that, nothing had changed in her life.

Margot ran her hand through her hair. “You know, I might not even be one.”

“But your mom was one, which makes you half-Psionic.”

“Which makes me a glitch that shouldn’t exist.”

“Who cares about that? You’re here now, so let’s roll from there. Can I see the book?” Lucille held out her free hand.

Margot slid over to give her sister room on the boulder. “Sit next to me. I’ll hold the lantern.”

They swapped items. Margot held up the lantern so they could read by the light it cast.

Lucille peeked into the box. She took out the winged necklace and cooed at it. The chain sparkled in the light.

“Ooh, that’s gorgeous. You should put it on,” Lucille said.

“Should I? I don’t know. Dad and Helena might get offended by it. I think I’ve done enough damage.”

“Do it. It’s yours. Your mom wanted you to wear it. Turn around and I’ll clip it on you.” Lucille unclasped the chain.

Margot complied. She lifted her hair out of the way so Lucille could put it on her.

“Thanks,” Margot said.

“No problem. Kind of makes me wish I had one.”

“You can have it if you want it.”

“That’d be stealing.” Lucille opened the book to the first page, the one holding the artwork. “Wow. Do you think she drew this?”

“Probably not. I feel like she would’ve said something if she did, but then again, I didn’t read more than half of the page after that one.”

“It’s got a signature on it. Something that starts with a B. B, A, I… Baillache? No idea if I’m pronouncing that right. What’s a Baillache?”

“Must be whoever drew it. Okay, so that confirms that she didn’t draw it herself. She bound the book, though. Dad didn’t really lie about the seven things he told me about her. I just wish I didn’t have to find out the rest this way.” Margot kicked her legs out as she talked.

Lucille flipped to the next page. Her eyebrows knit together as she strained to see Judith’s writing in the lantern light. Margot stared over at the forest while Lucille read. Her head was still reeling too hard from everything that transpired to start poring over the text like her sister was doing.

“So this is what a status screen looks like. I always pictured it as something more extravagant than this, but you know what? This works, too,” Lucille said. “Judith—can I call her Judith?”

“Go ahead.”

“Judith doesn’t go into details here, but Shell’s obvious. That’s our bodies. We knew that much already, thanks to the Clerics. Psyche must be the pool of Psi that Psionics have access to. Like the Shell percentage, Psyche must come back. It regenerates. Then after that, there’s three categories that your numbers can get dumped into.”

“You’re getting more into this than I am.”

“There’s a world of opportunities knocking at your door, Margot. I’d be screaming and doing back flips if I were you.” Lucille tapped on the book. “And, don’t you know that knowing this stuff puts us on a whole ‘nother level? We know the data breakdown. We know what Psionics are made out of.”

Margot checked out the notes Judith had written about herself:

Power

Offensive: 5

Defensive: 8

Neutral: 6

Psi

Offensive: 5

Defensive: 11

Neutral: 7

Poise

Offensive: 16

Defensive: 10

Neutral: 7

Although Margot didn’t know exactly what the values meant, she could speculate about the category generalizations. It seemed straight-forward.

Since Power was a separate section on its own, Margot guessed that it referred to physical abilities. Melee attacks for the offensive category, toughness for the defensive category, and perhaps endurance for the neutral category.

Psi most likely had to do with the power Psionics derived from their link to the Great Mother. The offensive and defensive categories felt obvious. As for the neutral category, Margot assumed that had to do with the non-combat usages of Psi.

Poise had to do with graceful skills. Maybe. Since Judith said she preferred ranged weaponry that had to mean that the Poise attribute involved abilities in that area. Defensive Poise could help things like dodging and reflexive movements. Neutral was possibly about coordination or general dexterity.

Of course, that was all speculation on Margot’s part.

A cry sounded off in the forest. It was reminiscent of the one Margot heard the other day. A screech, followed by the unfurling noise of wings. Margot gripped her necklace, the metal cold against her palm.

Lucille closed the book. “You had to have heard that.” She placed the book back into its box and hopped up from the rock. “Someone’s calling you.”

“Or tricking us.”

“We’ve earned enough Favor to come back if anything bad happens.”

“Yeah, maybe. Who’s to know for sure? You should just stay here. I don’t want you getting hurt on my account.” Margot got up to find something she could use as a weapon.

If she was truly half-Psionic, then she could handle a foray into the forest on her own. Her sister didn’t need to get involved.

Lucille put her hand on her shoulder. “Wherever you go, I go.”

“Lucille…”

“Please?” Lucille pouted.

Margot melted under Lucille’s puppy dog look. “Fine.”

After they found adequate sticks (or as adequate as they could be, considering they were, well, sticks), they went to the waist-high fence that acted as a final point of warning: go beyond this zone, and you’re asking for trouble.

Margot hoisted herself over it. She put out her hands to catch Lucille in case she fell, even though the height wasn’t anything to worry about. Lucille made it over just fine. She cupped her hands around her mouth and imitated the caw, caw of a bird.

“What are you doing?” Margot asked. She clutched the lantern in her left hand, her stick held tightly in her right.

“A little bit of call and response. Caw, caw!” Lucille repeated herself louder.

Something returned her cry.

“Sounds like it came from that way,” Lucille said.

The Hyland sisters trudged forward into the muddy unknown of the woods. Insects droned their night songs, a series of clicks and scritches. Leaves rustled together. Somewhere off in the distance, there was movement among the shrubbery.

If it wasn’t for the fire cradled within the lantern, the girls wouldn’t be able to see a single thing in front of them. Something brushed against Margot’s ankle. She bit back a shriek, and shone the lantern light towards the ground.

Nothing. It was just a fallen branch.

What she hoped was a bird began to sing: two long notes with a minor rest in between. The chorus didn’t vary from the verses. People often complained of Patchwork Town’s noisiness, but at least it came with certainty. For all she knew, that song was heralding in an attack.

Or it was a warning call, and something worse was going to show up to eat the Hyland sisters.

Too much uncertainty. Too much darkness. Why did the untamed wilderness have to be so creepy? It’s like it went out of its way to be like that, what with its constant shade, skittering creatures, and foliage that kept shifting around. Was it the wind or a monster that kept shaking the bushes nearby?

Untamed wilderness, yeah, it was living up to the untamed part, alright.

Margot shivered. She hadn’t thought to bring a jacket nor a weapon better than a wooden stick. Then again, it hadn’t been her intention to do this at all. When the night started, she expected to force-feed herself a terrible excuse for dinner, finish reading The Wondrous 7, and fall asleep in bed.

“Hold on. There’s something in the bushes over there,” Lucille said. She redirected Margot’s lantern-holding arm.

The leaves shook.

“Take the light.” Margot handed it over. She braced herself for whatever was about to emerge. Not knowing the proper fighting stance to take, she adopted one she’d seen on a book cover.

A furry head popped out of the green. It had long ears that stood straight up, shiny black eyes, a pink button nose, and an adorable set of whiskers.

“It’s a bunny!” Lucille swung the light. “Nothing other than a harmless rabbit.”

As soon as the rest of the “rabbit” fell out of the bush, the girls realized how wrong Lucille was. The creature had a rabbit’s head, but the rest of its body was like a dry, scaly old man. No arms and no junk. Thank the Great Mother that its wrinkly jimmies weren’t showing.

The rabbit’s lips pulled back in a gnashing, fanged smile. It opened its mouth wide for its worm-like tongue to swirl around its teeth. Its black eyes turned red, glowing through the dark.

“Great Mother, kill it with fire! Margot, kill it!” Lucille screamed.

The monster lunged forward, fangs chomping for purchase. Margot shoved Lucille out of the way. She narrowly missed being bitten by the thing. Angry that its target was gone, the naked rabbit turned its attention towards Margot.

Ready for it, she swung her stick at it. The wood cracked over the rabbit’s head. The beast staggered backwards from the blow.

Margot tossed away what remained of her weapon. “Throw me yours!”

“Here!”

Lucille overthrew it.

It went over Margot’s head.

“Why?” Margot wanted to cry.

“Sorry!”

The monster’s teeth chattered. It hunched its body, the ridges in its spine popping out. Bony. Wrinkly. It was a thin-skinned sack of disgusting flesh with a rabbit on top.

Why, indeed.

Margot grabbed the lantern out of Lucille’s hand. She thrust it in the beast’s direction. It didn’t flinch from the flames. If anything, the fire seemed to interest it further. Margot backed up.

“Run,” Margot said.

And rather than Lucille listening to her, it was the beast who advanced.

Margot threw the lantern, and covered her face to avoid getting hit by any flying glass. The lamp burst on impact, a square hit on the creature’s nasty chest.

Fire engulfed it, its screams competing with the roar of the flame. It stumbled to its knees.

“Holy GM.” Lucille’s eyes went wide.

“Running. We’re running now,” Margot said. She clasped Lucille’s hand in hers and took off on an awkward jaunt.

Awkward because of the whole having to half-drag her slower sister alongside her part and a jaunt because they weren’t exactly running in sync.

Lucille tripped.

Margot steeled herself to keep from going down, too. She yanked her sister back up.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Lucille brushed off her knees.

Margot checked over her shoulder. They were still close enough to the rabbit monster’s corpse that she could see the light the flames gave off. She swiveled around. The limited visibility made it hard for her to orient herself in the forest.

The way home could have been this way or that way. Margot went with her gut instinct, took Lucille’s hand, and walked at a hurried pace. The last thing they needed was to run into another one of those monsters.

It was bizarre. She had never heard of such a creature. The beasts that attacked their hometown were fully formed, not mash-ups of animal and man. Suddenly, the fears of the forest that had been instilled in her over the years felt entirely justified. The wilderness and all of its mysteries were not to be trifled with.

Lucille pulled out of Margot’s grasp. She seized her sister by the arm, rough enough for Margot to yelp in pain.

Margot was going to tell her off, but the words died in her mouth.

They weren’t alone. Something twice the size of a horse stared down at the girls. She hadn’t heard it approach. It was like it had materialized behind them, appearing out of nothing. The glowing scales on its body gave off an angelic light.

“Wyvern,” Margot stated in disbelief.

And not just any wyvern. She recognized the frills coming off of its head, its back ridges, its barbed tail, and its talon-like claws. It was like it had flown off of the pages of her mother’s notebook.

The wyvern snorted. It stepped one powerful claw forward.

An overwhelming feeling of familiarity washed over Margot. It was as if they had met somewhere before, but Margot had no recollection of it. Nothing in her memories said they’d ever met. And yet some part of her insisted that this was a reunion, that she and the wyvern had a bond.

Although there were plenty of reasons to be afraid (the fact that the wyvern could tear her limb from limb if it so chose, for one), Margot stood steadfast under its gaze.

It regarded her, its eyes narrowing. With a lift of its chin, the wyvern pointed ahead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucille asked.

“I think it’s showing us the way back home,” Margot said.

The wyvern took the lead. Unsure of what else to do, the Hyland sisters followed while making sure to stay out of whipping distance of its tail. As the wyvern walked, it seemed to shrink from being twice a horse’s size to the length of a single horse. Margot assumed that to be the work of a size manipulation spell.

“What’s your mom’s wyvern doing here?” Lucille was as full of questions as Margot was. “Do you think she could be here? Maybe the necklace is like a special flag that calls them in. It could be magical. How great would that be?”

Margot’s heart soared at the prospect. To finally meet her in the flesh would be more than great. It’d be something bordering on miraculous. Before this night, Judith had been a nameless, unknown dead woman. She had been a bookbinder who died before her time. Now she was a Wyvern Tamer and seasoned adventurer, living a life Margot only dreamed of.

More than dreamed of. It was the life Margot should have been living. She should’ve been with her mother, learning skills and how to fight from her, not leading the life of a shoemaker. There had been a part of her that screamed for change and now she knew why.

Judith would be older than what she looked like in the notebook, but Margot had a feeling she would know her as soon as she saw her. It would be like when she met her mother’s wyvern. A click. A sense of calm and belonging. A connection that went beyond the visible. Judith would feel it, too, and would do everything in her power to make up for the 17 years she spent apart from her.

Unfortunately, Judith wasn’t waiting for them at the outskirts of the town. The notebook was still there, sitting where the girls had left it. The wyvern nosed it.

Margot glanced towards the town. She wondered what would happen if someone wandered over to where they were. The odds of that were low, given how late at night it was.

The wyvern cooed for attention, a low guttural sound produced from the depths of its throat. It sat on its haunches. Had it gotten tired? Was that its way of saying goodbye? Margot hoped that Judith had written extensively on wyvern behaviors in her notebook. She needed a wyvern guide.

Lucille reached out to touch the wyvern. Margot batted her hand away. The wyvern got back up onto its feet.

When Margot pulled her hand back from swatting her sister, she noticed the egg. It was smooth and spherical, and about twice the size of a chicken’s egg.

Try as she might, Margot couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.

The wyvern spread its wings and took a step backwards. It ducked its head towards the egg to nudge it forward. Margot’s pulse quickened at the offering. The wyvern in the egg had to be hers. That made sense to her and she didn’t know why.

Skies were blue, the sun was hot, dogs had fur, and that wyvern egg was hers. It all made sense.

She took a deep breath, trying to remember her rationality. As much as she was ready to take the wyvern egg and go, she had thousands of questions for the wyvern. What was its name again? Griseldis, was it? The wyvern was probably a she, if wyverns subscribed to typical birthing conventions. She had laid an egg, after all.

“Where’s Judith?” Margot asked the creature.

Griseldis tilted her scaled head.

“Is she with you? Is she anywhere around here?” She had to be. Her wyvern couldn’t be working alone without any direction, but then again, Margot didn’t know a single thing about wyverns. Perhaps they were prone to leaving their masters and embarking on quests of their own.

Griseldis tilted her head the other way.

“I don’t think it can understand you,” Lucille said, “and that’s fine with me as long as it doesn’t want to eat us.”

“She’s not gonna eat us. She belongs to my mom.” Margot, careful not to make any sudden movements, edged towards the wyvern egg. Griseldis had given her permission to take it, but that didn’t do much to settle the quivering of her hands.

Once she had it, Griseldis disappeared. Like she had fallen through an illogical trap door, the wyvern wasn’t there anymore. Startled by the change, Lucille squeaked. Margot hardened her resolve, not allowing her confusion to work itself out onto her features.

Then, that familiar flapping noise sounded off from above them.

The wyvern had turned invisible and flown away without acknowledging any of Margot’s questions. All she had now was a wyvern egg.

Her wyvern egg.

Margot hugged it close to her heart.

“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” Margot mumbled into the top of the egg.

“You’re a Wyvern Tamer, Margot. You really are a Psionic,” Lucille said.

Margot held the egg out in front of her. Being closer to the town meant that they could see from the gas streetlamps. She turned it around in her hands, looking for imperfections and any signs that this could all possibly be a dream she would soon wake up from.

What was she supposed to do with a wyvern? The answer may have been obvious, but her disbelief kept her from making the leap.

Something moved inside it. It poked against the shell, right where her palm was. She clutched the egg tighter to keep from dropping it. It was far more fragile than she expected. Around the backside of the egg, a crack formed.

The split widened. Margot moved her fingers to avoid the fragmentation.

“It’s hatching!” Lucille peered over Margot’s shoulder.

The top half of the egg shattered. She flinched when an errant shell piece sliced into her cheek. Wincing from the pain, Margot looked through one eye at what emerged.

The hatchling couldn’t have been much bigger than a 9 ½ inch boot. Its softly pointed ears stuck out on either side of its head. What looked like a thin layer of fuzz covered its scraggly, reptilian body. On closer inspection, Margot realized it had downy feathers, like a baby bird. And like a baby bird, it was looking up at its new mother with eyes brimming full of hope.

Or so Margot assumed. It could’ve just been hungry.

She cradled the hatchling and the bottom shell it sat in in one hand, and with the other she held out her fist for the purple wyvern to smell. That’s what people did when approaching strange dogs, so she thought it to be an appropriate move.

The wyvern nuzzled against her knuckles.

Margot felt a heartbeat thrum through her that wasn’t her own. A warmth enveloped her chest. All of her confusion became buried under a feeling of elation. Her lips turned upwards, a smile that matched the baby wyvern’s appearing on her face.

That didn’t last.

A bolt of pain lanced through her. Margot dropped to one knee. Jostled but still held, the hatchling screeched out. Lucille put her hand on Margot’s back. Her words ran together. Margot couldn’t decipher one syllable from the next.

It was just a rush of sound. Sound and pain that pierced into her skull the more she heard it. She squeezed her eyes shut to escape it. The hatchling prodded its head against her hand, squawking in distress.

Colors raced across her vision. Margot’s eyes snapped back open.

A message broke through into her mind. Everything else—from Lucille’s frantic concern and the wyvern she tried not to crush in her grip—fell away. For a moment, the only thing she was conscious of was the text in front of her.

[SYSTEM: An internal error occurred: The request is not supported.

An internal error occurred: corrupted disk found.

You must re-initialize the disk before Companion can access it.

Attempting re-initialization, please wait…]

Numbers swam before her eyes.

[SYSTEM: Acquiring serial number…

Creating database…

Granting database access to user…

Retrieving server data, please wait…]

Margot burned all over, hotter than a blacksmith’s anvil. Chest heaving, she hurried to undo the buttons of her shirt. Lucille took the hatchling from her. It bleated, its cries filling the air.

She curled up onto her side. Every twitch she made was like the breaking of bone. Her surroundings blurred.

[SYSTEM: Re-initialization complete.

Your serial number is 724-661-204-596. Think about your serial number to receive a reminder. This is an important code that functions as your identification.

Your current statistical data is as follows…]

The fog of pain peeled off of Margot like a hand scraping off a crushed fly. She got onto her hands and knees, and spit out the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth. A new system message appeared.

[Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 1

XP: 0/64

Credits: 0

Shell: 97%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Psi

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Poise

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty): Unlocks the Tamer skill tree and grants the Tamer talent.

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Tamer to the Companion.]

At that, Margot Hyland promptly lost all the strength in her limbs and fainted.

Chapter 4

Margot woke up on her bedroom floor, the morning sun streaming through her window and washing the room in delicate orange. A weight on her chest made it difficult for her to take in full breaths. She tilted her head to look at what it was.

The wyvern was curled up on top of her, dozing soundly.

Taking in the rest of the room, she realized that she wasn’t far off from her bed. Had she rolled off in the middle of the night? For that matter, how did she get here in the first place? She doubted her sister would’ve had the patience to drag her the entire way.

Speaking of her sister, Lucille was already awake. She sat on the edge of her bed, her legs swinging.

“Oh, good, you’re up!” Lucille exclaimed. “I was seriously waiting for forever. Mom’s almost finished making breakfast. I told her you weren’t feeling so good. I think she bought it.”

Margot laid her arm across her forehead. “What happened last night?”

“Well… There was that big blowup fight between Mom and Dad. We went to the woods to talk and then we decided to check out the weird sound we kept hearing—”

“I got that part,” Margot interrupted. “How did I get home after that?”

Lucille pursed her lips and hummed. “Hmm, you were convulsing for a while. Then you got up like nothing was wrong and took yourself home. I had to hide the wyvern in my shirt. It was pretty awkward.”

“I don’t remember doing that.”

“You did it. And you plopped yourself down on the ground right there.” Lucille pointed.

“No need to point. I know exactly where I am.” Her back was going to hate her for that later.

The wyvern stirred. It lifted its neck up to look at Margot. She saw into its serpentine eyes, and her heart warmed up with a sense of tranquility. Her worries and building anxiety died down.

“Maybe the wyvern gave you zombie powers,” Lucille said. “It was really like you were possessed, just marching up in here and deciding to fall asleep wherever you wanted. I couldn’t put a blanket on you because of the wyvern, by the way. I wasn’t being a jerk on purpose.”

Margot shook her head. The wyvern’s head wiggled as it followed her movements. “He didn’t give me zombie powers. Does he look like a necromancer to you?”

“He looks like a bird lizard thing. You have a name for him yet?”

She picked the first name she could think of. “Frederick.”

“Frederick? He’s so little! He needs a cute nickname.”

“We’ll go with Freddie. And nobody can know about him, okay? He’s going to stay as our secret. Non-Psionics aren’t supposed to have Companions.”

The law went further than that. It was illegal for NPCs to own combat-oriented weaponry without the proper licenses. Ownership of weapons for hunting and sporting required permits, and even then their weapons were pared down to near the point of uselessness. They had to rely on RPCs for hunting most game.

Companions were different from other animals in that they shared a mind, body, and soul connection with their Tamers. It wasn’t like having a dog as a best friend or an ox as a beast of burden. Their primary role as Companions was to assist an adventurer on his or her quests, and because of that they could interface with the Great Mother’s data system.

The information came to her like she’d always known it, but she wasn’t sure where she was getting all of that from. Maybe it had something to do with becoming User Serial Number 724-661-204-596. It frightened her how easily those digits popped into her head.

“But you’re not a Non-Psionic, not really,” Lucille said. “You’re like a half-Psionic. You’ve got the wyvern to prove it.”

“About that… There’s something I have to tell you,” Margot said.

Helena called for them from down the stairs, her loud voice reaching them through the closed door. “Girls! Breakfast is ready!”

“Can it wait until after breakfast? I’m starving.” Lucille held her stomach.

“Sure. What are we going to do about Freddie?”

“Before we even do anything about that, you should change out of those clothes and into pajamas so Mom won’t be suspicious. I’ll set a place for him up on your bed. I think animals like being surrounded by their owner’s smell or something,” Lucille said.

Margot sat up. Freddie slid to her lap. He headbutted her arm, not appreciating the abrupt change. She scratched him on the crown of his head.

“We’ll be back for you soon, buddy,” Margot said. She carried him over to her pillow and placed him down in a way that wouldn’t disturb his wings.

While Lucille fixed Margot’s blankets into makeshift bedding for Freddie, Margot quickly changed into one of her nightgowns. She didn’t want to keep Helena waiting for long. Last night had put her through enough grief. Margot didn’t want to add to it by dawdling.

Freddie laid belly-first onto the covers and closed his eyes.

The girls left their bedroom on tip toes. Margot hoped that Freddie wouldn’t get into any trouble while he was unsupervised. As long as he stayed asleep, all would be well.

***

Edgar wasn’t at the breakfast table. Margot didn’t push for reasons why. The conclusion could easily be drawn based on their argument. Helena needed space. Edgar gave it to her. And maybe him not wanting to face Margot drove part of his disappearance. Helena was the simpler excuse for him to latch onto.

Cowardice didn’t look good on him.

The stained cloth runner was gone from the table. Their plates were set upon bare wood. A glass of milk rested neatly in the 11 o’clock position around the saucer. Scrambled eggs shared the plate with three gelatinous cubes. At first, Margot thought the eggs were burnt, but she soon realized that the black specks were the result of an overzealous peppering hand.

“What’s this jelly stuff?” she asked.

“Pork belly,” Helena said.

Margot shuddered involuntarily. Helena had served them the jellied fat.

Lucille dug into her food, as she usually did. The girl had a questionable palate that rivaled her mother’s.

“Did you girls sleep well?” Helena asked. She forked a meat jelly chunk into her mouth.

“Great! How about you?” Lucille replied.

“Fine,” Helena said.

Fine and alone, Margot assumed. Her father most likely spent the night on the couch. He must’ve left them at the crack of dawn. Shame would’ve prevented him from booking a room at the local inn. Doing that would’ve aired their marital strife, which was a problem that was usually swept under the rug in Patchwork Town. No one wanted to risk sullying their family name by letting people know about their troubles.

A harmonious family produced the best products, after all. Patchwork Town ran on the strengths of family businesses. Anything that interfered with a family’s perfect image was kept a secret. Reputation was instrumental to success.

Margot examined her glass of milk, searching for something to say. She concentrated on the white liquid housed within.

[ITEM: Milk

Type: Consumable

Property: Cow

Quality: Spoiled

Effect: Momentary increase in Shell percentage. High risk of Ill status.]

She screeched back her chair.

Helena stared at her, jaw set in a terse expression.

Lucille picked up her glass. “Did you see a bug or something?”

Before the milk could reach her sister’s mouth, Margot snatched it out of her hand. She tucked it between her arm at her side and grabbed hers and Helena’s before going to the sink. The nasty milk went down the drain.

“What are you doing?” Helena threw her napkin onto the table.

“The milk’s bad,” Margot said. “We’ll get sick if we drink it. Where’s the rest of the jars?”

“We only had the one. What made you think the milk was bad? It smelled perfectly fine to me,” Helena said. She grunted in frustration. “Sit back down. I’ll deal with you later. You’ve given me a headache and the day hasn’t even started yet.”

“Sorry,” she said as she sat back down. “You should get your Credits back.”

Done with talking to her stepdaughter, Helena waved her hand dismissively.

“Thanks for saving us, I guess,” Lucille said. She offered Margot a smile and a look that said something like that-was-great-but-now-I’m-real-thirsty.

Margot wasn’t sure how that menu of words had appeared. She just seemed to concentrate and became overwhelmed with an analytical understanding of the material she investigated.

She tried it on the plate in front of her, squinting so hard that her vision spotted black and hazy at the edges. Her head pounded. Margot looked away. The pounding stopped.

Then, she focused more intently on the components rather than the whole. Too much at once was confusing whatever database scanner was at play.

[ITEM: Eggs

Type: Consumable

Property: Chicken

Quality: Poor

Effect: Tiny increase in Shell percentage.]

Next came the pork belly. She blocked everything else out. Margot’s vision tunneled in on the thick, chewy meat fat.

[MTIE ate:M

ns:eT opuaelmCyb

iPyrPro:g pet

oaoitPl yu:rQ

f:cirEr cyen leteennT ce afnhi etpeglSisa.]

A piercing sensation jammed at her eyes. The words scrambled and smeared into something illegible, the letters no longer making any sense. Her comprehension broke apart. When she made another attempt, nothing entered her mind. The pork belly remained as it was without the appearance of a deeper analysis.

Was this normal for a Psionic or was this one of the drawbacks she had from being a glitch? Margot thought the re-initialization process had righted her flaws, but it looked like that wasn’t the case.

Now she knew why RPCs scrutinized their shoes so much. They could see the leather down to its make-up. Margot wanted to check the sleeve of her nightgown, to see what kind of readings it would have. Still, nothing new came to her.

“You eat with your mouth, not your eyes. Are you going to waste more food before you try it or are you just going to sit there?” Helena asked.

“I’m eating,” Margot said. She stuck a forkful of the scrambled eggs into her mouth, her tongue burning from the offensive amount of pepper. The quality rating should have been worse than poor. It was practically inedible.

Margot hid some of her breakfast in her napkin.

After finishing their meals and dunking their plates into the soaking bucket, the Hyland women left to get ready for the working day. It wouldn’t be long until the Raid Day when their levels of Favor would be tested.

Freddie hadn’t woken up yet. Margot set out her leftovers. She hoped that would be enough of a snack for him. After work, she planned on taking him to forage in the forest. She didn’t have the money to support his carnivorous needs, but she had a bushcraft book she could consult for herb collecting. She could feed him that way.

The book had sat on her shelf for years, a random birthday gift from one of the neighborhood children who thought the pictures looked wonderful.

Finally the dusty thing could be used as more than a hefty paperweight.

Had Freddie been awake, Margot would’ve made him promise to be good. No tantrums, no disasters, no biting of things that didn’t belong to him. She would’ve said it in her best impression of a mom’s voice. One hand on her hip and the other wagging a finger in the air.

But, alas, the hatchling snored peacefully, his two feet kicking from whatever dream he was having. He missed out on what would’ve been a dazzling performance.

***

By the time the Hyland women entered the family workshop, Edgar Hyland was already hard at work. His shoulders were hunched, his head was down, and he stared intently at the partial boot before him. Helena didn’t greet him. Lucille stayed in line with her mother’s lead. Margot, on the other hand, wished him a brief good morning.

He nodded in return.

The cruelest thing for Helena to do would be to kick Edgar out of the workshop altogether, but something like that could be the prelude to his demise. This was their primary method of gaining Favor. It wasn’t something to be messed around with. Feud or no feud, no one gets in the way of someone else’s work.

Margot set herself up at her workstation. Everything had been fixed back to normal by then, the family workshop no longer a poor excuse for a shoe shining parlor. Her supplies were the way she wanted them, everything within reach. She grabbed the boot she was working on. A heavy needle hung from it, attached by the last bit of threading she needed to finish.

From the supple leather skin to the cushioned foot bed, the boot was one of the finest Margot had ever made. She burnished the leather herself, varying its shades. The tip ended in a smooth, rounded point. Margot had designed them with a fancy merchant in mind, someone that would look rich strutting down the street in them.

Like she had at the breakfast table, she decided to focus in on the boot.

[SYSTEM: Crafting in progress.

99% complete.]

A stabbing pain jolted at her eyebrow. Margot pushed through it as she pulled the last stitch through the boot. Once she finished, she set aside the needle and smoothed a rag over the boots. She concentrated on the material.

[ITEM: Leather Boots

Type: Equipment

Property: Cow

Quality: Good

Resistance Value: 2

Effect: None.]

“Oh, c’mon! This is better than good. This is excellent quality. Superb,” Margot said, guessing at the ranking system. She appraised her workmanship, turning the boot over to check for flaws. Why it received a “Good” quality rating eluded her.

And a Resistance Value of 2? Was that good or bad in the scheme of things? If that was bad, then she demanded a recount.

“Who are you talking to?” Lucille asked. “Don’t tell me that you’re hearing voices in your head.”

Margot scrambled for an excuse. “Um… Doesn’t every artist? It’s the, um, inner critic, yeah, that’s what it’s called. She’s talking to me.”

“Could you and your inner critic go have your conversation elsewhere, Margot? We have a quota to meet,” Helena said.

“Yeah,” Margot mumbled. Her face turned red. “Lucille, can you pass me the pattern book?”

When Lucille got close with the book, she leaned in to whisper, “We’re talking about this when we get home.”

Lucille caught on better than Margot gave her credit for.

***

It wasn’t until after work and after a dinner absent of Edgar and after a small amount of menial chores and after one of Helena’s infamous lectures that the Hyland sisters could finally check on Freddie the wyvern hatchling.

Had they been sooner, perhaps they could have rescued more of their things.

Pillows were scratched up, their feathers strewn about the room. Torn bits of blankets littered the area. One of Margot’s favorite pair of shoes had been chewed into like a hunk of meat. Claw marks ruined the wood floors. The legs of Lucille’s bed were missing bite-sized chunks. It was a wonder that it still stood.

Sometime during the day, Freddie toppled over Margot’s short bookcase. Novels and reference books were spread out and flattened beneath the fallen shelves. Margot winced at the broken spines and crinkled pages.

He had been unable to ruin their dresser, but not for lack of trying. Scratches scored the bottom. Luckily, the clothes inside remained untouched. They more than likely would’ve shared the same fate as the ripped up blankets.

In the middle of it all, sat Freddie. A smile spread on his face when he saw Margot and Lucille. He leaned back and lifted up one of his talon-like feet. He wiggled his toes at the girls. Lucille waved back.

“Don’t do that,” Margot chided her. “He’ll think what he just did was okay to do. And let me tell you it was not okay at all.” She stressed every syllable.

“He might not remember what he did. He’s probably like a little dog. If a dog soils your carpet while you’re away and you come back, you can’t really punish him for it. He’s not going to connect what he did hours ago to what’s happening now.”

Margot sighed. Lucille had a point, but she had always imagined dragons and their cousin creatures to be quite intelligent, way more than dogs, at least.

Plus, her wyvern was supposed to be an extension of herself. She couldn’t let this go without saying something to him.

She crossed her arms and forced some gruffness into her voice. “Freddie, you’re not allowed to do this. This was bad. Real bad. Don’t do this again or else I’m going to be really mad at you.”

Freddie’s smile dropped.

“You sound like Mom,” Lucille said.

It wasn’t just Freddie’s smile that had dropped. Margot felt weighed down and heavy, like something was being squeezed inside of her. Tight. Painful. Guilt and shame burned its way onto her face. She held her hand over her heart, right where it was thudding.

Freddie lowered himself to the ground. His chin touched the floorboards.

Margot joined him. She slid to the floor and laid out onto her side.

Lucille looked at Margot then Freddie then Margot and then back to Freddie again. “What’s wrong with you guys? What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Margot’s bottom lip trembled.

“Are you crying?”

“Stop yelling at us.”

“I’m not yelling at you. Yelling would sound like this!”

Margot choked out a sob. Freddie scooted over so that he could lie at her side. He hiccupped tiny cries of his own. They were a mess, and Margot had no idea why this was happening or why she had been hit so hard with emotion. Even when the worst of things happened to her, she managed to hold it together.

Lucille sat next to her. “Here, here. Sit up for second and let me give you a hug. That’s it. Just cry as much as you need to.” As she hugged Margot, she patted Freddie on the head. She soothed them both at the same time.

It took a while for Margot to feel like she could talk without triggering another nonsensical breakdown. The impromptu sob session had stripped her throat raw. She cleared her throat the best that she could.

“Now where did that come from?” Lucille asked, her voice soft and gentle. “Does this have something to do with the thing you wanted to tell me this morning?”

Margot wiped her tears away. “Maybe. Actually… Yes. I think it does. Something happened to me yesterday.”

“Yeah, your life changed. You got yourself a secret wyvern and found out you’re something special.”

“I see things now. Numbers and types and Resistance Values and quality ratings. If I focus on something, I just… I just learn things about it. I’ve got an instant appraisal system in my brain now.”

Lucille snapped her fingers. Freddie jumped. “Oops, sorry.” She scratched him under the chin. “So that’s why you freaked out about the milk. You’ve got Psionic eyes. Now I’m about to start freaking out. Margot, that’s amazing!”

“But they’re not perfect. It’s like I can focus on one or two things, then my whole system shuts down. Things get scrambled up and don’t make any sense.” Margot rubbed the side of her forehead. “And I get killer headaches whenever I do it.”

“I guess since you’re half a Psionic things don’t work smoothly for you.”

Margot got up. She stepped over the mess of their room as she searched for a writing utensil and a blank piece of paper. In the end, she had to settle for an unwrapped stick of graphite from their dresser and the back of a book she didn’t particularly like. At least she was finally getting some use out of Ogres are Love; Ogres are Life.

She focused her mind and copied the lines that bloomed in her mind. Margot abbreviated where she could. By the time she finished, the graphite stick had smeared the edge of her hand in gray.

“Lucille, I want you to read this.” Margot held it up for her sister to see.

Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 1

XP: 12/64

Credits: 0

Shell: 100%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Psi

O: 1

D: 1

N: 1

Poise

O: 1

D: 1

N: 1

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty)

Psionic Bond w/ Freddie

Her grip tight on the page, Lucille took in everything Margot had jotted down. She blinked several times in an entirely exaggerated fashion. Then, a smile cracked across her face. It was the kind of smile Margot was more than familiar with. Her sister wore it whenever she was about to get into something mischievous.

That look had been the prologue to many a skinned knee gained from hill rolling and punishments earned from sneaking into places where they shouldn’t have. It was because of that smile that Margot had gotten her head crushed in for the very first time. That happened when they decided to march head-on into the wave of monsters heading into their town.

What a horrible mistake that had been. Margot had no idea why or how she had let Lucille convince her to do it, but her sister had a way with words even at the age of five.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Margot asked, unsure if she really wanted to hear the answer or not.

“You’re a Psionic, which means…”

Margot refused to take the bait. She waited for Lucille to finish speaking.

Lucille continued, “It means that this isn’t just a pipe dream. You really can do all the things that we talked about. Freddie and I can help you.”

“The Stronghold,” Margot said.

No one else cared to defeat it. The Psionics were intent on maintaining the status quo that prolonged Patchwork Town’s misery. They cited blasphemy as a reason not to change things, but Margot knew that must’ve been a cover-up for their greed. Psionics were more interested in seeing their numbers rise and their levels climb than helping the townspeople. That was all the motivation they needed for keeping the Stronghold alive.

Should they defeat the Stronghold’s Core, everyone’s lives in Patchwork Town would be changed. The Hyland family wouldn’t be chained to their workstations, pumping out shoe after shoe. Children would grow up with choices rather than being railroaded into crafting and resource gathering careers.

The Non-Psionics would no longer have to live in service of Psionics that hardly cared about them beyond the experience points that they could offer. Quest lines be damned; they had real lives on the line here.

Favor wouldn’t matter if they weren’t under weekly threat of death. Lucille would be free to pursue her musical interests. She could become the clavichord virtuoso she was destined to be. As it was now, fear, guilt, and long work hours prevented that from being a possibility. Without Favor ruling their lives, Lucille and all of the other citizens of Patchwork Town could become their true selves.

Freedom and liberation. Margot Hyland and Freddie the wyvern would be at the helm of it.

“You can take care of it,” Lucille said. “Think about it. You could train up and—”

“I don’t need any convincing. I’m doing it.” Margot clutched her necklace. “This has to be why my mom sent me Freddie. Maybe this is why she left me here. This is like… My ultimate quest line. I was born to save Patchwork Town.”

That made more sense to Margot than Judith deciding to abandon her. Yes, she didn’t write about Margot’s mission in the notebook, but maybe she was trying to throw off anybody that might read it. If she just out and out said that Margot had a destiny to fulfill, then Edgar probably would’ve destroyed the book.

Maybe he had held onto it because of a small part of him that also wanted Patchwork Town’s shackles to be removed.

“Don’t forget about us,” Lucille said, referring to her and Freddie. “You wouldn’t have gotten this far without our help.”

“What did you do?”

Lucille counted out on her fingers. “I spilled the wine, which led you into the basement. I pushed you to explore the forest. And I’m pushing you now. Let’s do it! Let’s show those RPCs what it’s like to be an NPC.”

“Because they would have to do their own work for once?”

“Kind of. What if they had to deal with monster attacks all of the time? What if it was their towns and their camps that had to deal with our Stronghold?”

“That’d be wild, but I’m fine with just getting rid of the damn thing altogether.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. I help you to aspire to be even better than what you already are. We should get training. We’ve got to get you leveled up. Does Freddie have any skills? What happens if you try to analyze him or whatever? Better yet, what happens if you try to analyze me?”

Margot honed in her attention on Freddie. Her head pulsed. Something hammered the side of her head, hard enough for her to have to bite into her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Freddie smooshed himself to the floor. He raised a wing to cover his head.

The longer she focused, the clearer the words came to her.

[Skills —

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Companion to the Tamer.

Venomous Bite: Leaks venom into melee bite attack. Causes Poisoned effect for a very short period of time.]

She tore her eyes away.

“He’s got two skills. One of the ones that I have and a Venomous Bite.” Margot rubbed her temple. “I’ll try analyzing you later. There’s only so much I can do at once and that took a lot out of me.”

Lucille glanced at the paper. “Oh, yeah, you both have the Psionic Bond thing, don’t you? That’s probably why you started crying earlier. You were feeling the emotions two-fold.”

“That’s not gonna be fun.”

“I guess you’ll have to learn how to control that along with all the other stuff you have to learn.” Lucille sighed wistfully, her tone softening on her next sentence. “You’re so lucky, Margot. You’re on the data grid and everything. You can do anything and be anything you want to be. You have numbers.”

“Hey, stuff the numbers. You’ll be learning things right along with me. Weren’t you the one who said I couldn’t do this alone? You’re sort of on the grid, too, as long as you’re with me.”

“You’re right about that.” Lucille smiled.

Freddie nipped at Margot’s fingers. She withdrew her hand.

“Guess we should get going now. I forgot how hungry he must be,” Margot said.

Freddie chirped at her.

“I have a backpack that’s the perfect size for him.” Lucille went over to the closet and rummaged inside of it. “We can hide him in it and no one’s gonna notice a thing.”

“Good idea!”

Margot hoped that Helena was fast asleep. Her coming into their room while they were gone would be a nightmare. For one, the entire place was trashed as badly as a garbage dump. For two, that would be a terrible breach of privacy. They had things in their room that Helena had no business seeing.

She grabbed a bag and placed her mother’s notebook inside. It was safer to bring it along with them on the trip into the wilderness.

Chapter 5

Margot and Lucille had to improvise on their weaponry. Rather than broad swords, the girls wielded iron pans from the kitchen. Their helmets were crown-protecting colanders, also from the kitchen. For armor, the girls rope-tied old pillows to their backs and fronts. Upon analysis, Margot learned that each pillow had a Resistance Value of 1, which stacked with their shirts that had the same Resistance Value as the pillows.

Wanting to avoid a headache from over-analysis, Margot opted to check her skillet instead of the colanders. The screen window displayed before her mind’s eye, informing her of her weapon’s stats.

[EQUIPMENT: Cast Iron Skillet

Type: Improvised Weapon

Quality: Poor

Damage Value: 3

Penalty: Unbalanced, -2]

Lucille’s pan looked to be about the same size, quality, and weight as hers, so Margot made the safe assumption that they were toting equal weaponry.

That is, other than Freddie.

As the sisters ventured into the forest with a new lantern in hand, Margot wondered if she should’ve brought a leash for her wyvern. Freddie’s curiosity for the various greenery that they passed by had him scrambling just about everywhere. She was thankful that he hadn’t learned how to fly yet. She imagined he would’ve gone up to the treetops if he knew how to.

Margot made sure to stay near Lucille’s side. She made a mental note to outfit her sister in better armor the next time they went out. As an NPC, Lucille was more vulnerable than Margot. Seeing how they couldn’t legally purchase any armor of their own, they would have to create some from the leathers in their workshop.

Freddie teetered as he walked. He’d already shed his downy feathers, his body lined with purple scales and a lighter underbelly. For balance he had to unfurl his wings, stretching them out in a way that made Lucille giggle.

Her laughter stopped when he did.

Fangs bared, Freddie growled in the direction of a nearby bush.

Margot white-knuckle gripped her skillet. Slowly, she placed down the lantern.

A fur-covered snake burst out of the foliage. Fast-moving, it charged at Lucille. Lucille jumped out of its path. Margot slammed her pan down onto its body just as it passed her, managing to nail its tail.

It reared up onto its middle, its head held high as it whipped back to see its attacker. Margot lifted her weapon for another strike.

Freddie moved faster. Wings stretched out, he leapt forward and clamped his jaws onto the snake’s body.

The snake wriggled to free itself.

Lucille sprang into action. From her place closest to its head, Lucille swung her iron skillet. She missed, the creature ducking out of the way. It hissed.

“Move!” Margot shouted at her sister.

Lucille backed away, holding the pan in front of her like a shield. The snake beast struck out, fast, and hit the pan like a fist meeting metal. Lucille dropped her weapon in fright.

Freddie lost his hold. The snake tore free, a ripped-off chunk of it staying in Freddie’s mouth. The creature screeched from the wound and wound itself back. It readjusted its target on Freddie.

Margot and Freddie faced off against the beast’s head. Lucille was left to fight the tail.

The snake’s head punched forward. It struck Margot in the chest, breaking through the pillow she wore as armor. Feathers flew up in a cloud all around her. Had that been her body uncovered, that probably would’ve been a one-hit kill.

Freddie jumped onto the snake. His claws pierced into it. The snake writhed, its body bouncing against the forest floor to knock Freddie off. He didn’t give up. His teeth crunched into the beast. With every tear of its flesh, Freddie snapped his head to the left and right.

Margot doubled back to where her sister was. Together, they attacked the tail. Wiggling every which way, it was fast but for every miss from one sister there was a hit from the other.

The skillet vibrated in her hands, clanging into the snake beast. The iron bit into her palms. Margot didn’t let that deter her. Pain, in so many ways, wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation to her.

The creature took its last breath. It spasmed one last time and then laid still. Freddie was covered in the gore of it, his face bloodstained. Margot struggled to catch her breath. She wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Lucille slapped a hand onto her shoulder. “That. Was. Awesome!” she stressed every word. “Freddie is a killing machine.”

“It wasn’t just Freddie. We worked just as hard,” Margot said. She fit her hand through the hole in her pillow armor.

“But without him we’d be dead,” Lucille said.

Margot stooped to Freddie’s level and dropped her weapon. He bounced up and down on his talons. She scooped him up into her arms and hugged him close, careful not to crush his wings. He made a noise somewhere between a purr and a chirp.

The snake disappeared at her feet, fading from existence. In its place appeared a handful of coins, a fanged skull, and a carcass that looked like a pink string of meat. That was the Great Mother’s reward for them, a bunch of loot as a thank you for their kill.

Without dropping Freddie, Margot pocketed the Credits.

“How much was that worth?” Lucille asked.

Margot concentrated her thoughts on her statistics menu. She answered, “15 Credits and… I don’t know how much XP. I’ve got 32 points now. I need 64 Experience Points to get to Level 2.”

Lucille picked up the skull. “64 more? We’ll be here all night.”

“64 total. We don’t have to do it in one night.” Margot let Freddie down.

Freddie hopped over to the snake meat. He lowered his head and worked on gobbling it up while the girls talked.

Margot untied the ropes that kept the pillows bound to her. She switched the pillows’ positions, moving the intact one to her front and the damaged one to her back.

“I wonder if I can level up, too. Maybe that’s why we’re forbidden to be in this forest. If everyone could just waltz in here and fight monsters, then they’d be as strong as Psionics in no time.”

Margot had her doubts about that. She and Lucille couldn’t have been the only rule-breakers to have ever existed in Patchwork Town. There had to be other people who risked their lives trying to level up, just like them. And, if those people had been successful, why hadn’t Margot heard about them?

It was possible that the Psionic Clerics who ran their churches were lying to them. Their sermons were full of warnings about the monsters in the forest. They specifically told people that ranks, or levels, weren’t for Non-Psionics.

Were the Clerics liars? Was Lucille right about Non-Psionics being able to level up?

Should Lucille’s assumption be correct, revolution would be the next step.

Revolution?

No, revolution was too harsh of a word for it. It was more that the NPCs could begin to reject the “help” they received from RPCs. The NPCs could keep the RPCs out and protect themselves.

A sound coming from a nearby tree drew her attention. Squinting, Margot could make out the faint outline of a blob creature about the size of her head. The slug-like monster was camouflaged against the bark, almost unnoticeable if it wasn’t for the slurping noise it made as its slick body crawled along.

Margot eased over to it. Its slow speed allowed her to press the back of her skillet into the monster. It squished beneath the metal. When she pulled it away from the tree trunk, the remains of the creature clung to her weapon in a sticky series of strings.

“Nasty.”

What happened next was worse.

The branches overhead shook as if blasted by a strong gust of wind. Margot looked upwards. Something glopped onto her shoulder. She ripped it off, the tackiness of it squishing between her fingers. It stung the scratches on her hand.

More of them rained down. One pelted her on her colander helmet. Splashing on impact, it oozed into the holes. Margot got out of the way of the slug shower and threw her helmet off. It clattered somewhere in the darkness beyond the lantern light.

She switched her pan into her dirtied hand. With her clean hand, she ruffled through her hair to make sure none of the gunk had reached it. Margot backed up to watch the slugs pour down from the tree. They gooped to the forest floor.

Iron pan held high, Lucille joined Margot at her side. Apprehension stilled her. No textbooks had prepared them for this. Bestiaries weren’t readily available to Non-Psionics. Margot doubted their library even held a single encyclopedia on monsters.

Freddie finished the last of his meal, then scampered over in time for the waterfall to reach its end.

The slugs had become something of a puddle-like mass. The slug formation rose and lowered itself, undulating like a wave. They soon scattered from the pile. Slugs came for the trio at a languid, easy to kill, easy to bash speed.

What was more worrying than that was the amount of them. Margot could hardly count them, especially due to their forest-mimicking colors. They gave themselves away only in the squelch of their movements.

Margot widened her stance and struck downwards with her pan. Shockwaves traveled up her arms. She lifted it and brought it back down in a slam. Next to her, Lucille did the same.

Freddie pecked at them. He spat with every bite he took. Margot’s mouth filled with a taste reminiscent of bile. She fought off the urge to vomit, and kept her attention focused on destroying the swarm.

Slugs crawled the grass surrounding them. It was like they were multiplying. The more of them that they killed, the more seemed to appear. Margot kicked the ones closest to her. She stomped on them, the slugs sticking to the bottom of her boots.

“Shit!” Lucille cried. She shook out her leg. “They’re on me!” Lucille swiped at the slugs on her pant leg. Margot hurried over to help. That left Freddie to contend with the majority of the swarm on his own.

A slug wormed its way across her ankle, burning her flesh. Margot leaned down and punched it until it turned into a liquid gel. The splatter enflamed her hands. She plucked slugs from her boot and flung them away.

Lucille fell backwards. Her screams rose in terror. Margot crouched beside her and forced up her pants legs, shoving them past her knees. Slugs covered her legs. Margot peeled them off, each one revealing sucker marks and broken skin.

Margot’s back flamed, red and raw. She gritted her teeth. Margot yanked the rope around her torso free, the pillows falling off of her. She patted at her back. There were no slugs to be found there. She glanced at Freddie.

A cluster of slugs overtook him. They weighed on his back. He screeched for help.

“Get up,” Margot snapped at Lucille. Lucille scrambled to stand.

Margot rushed over to Freddie. Though it was like putting her hands into fire, Margot didn’t stop scraping the slugs off of him. She squished them beneath her fists and shook her hands of the excess.

Breathing labored, Freddie collapsed. Pressure squeezed on Margot’s head, the edges of her vision darkening. She refused to pass out before they were rid of the slugs. Margot hit every one of them that she could see. Her punches splattered them.

Speckles of dark green grime splashed her face.

Distantly, she could hear Lucille’s pan banging into the dirt.

Freddie struggled to suck in breaths.

Margot stood up to crush the last of them beneath her boots. Her knuckles were battered, cut up on the hard rock ground. She spotted a slug she’d missed and gave it a final stomp.

A ding sounded in her head, like a short ring of a bell. Words embedded into her mind.

[SYSTEM: Congratulations! You have leveled up!

You have gained 3 Ability and 3 Skill Points to apply as you wish.

Based on your recent performance, the Great Mother recommends upgrading your Power attributes.]

“Your eyes are glowing,” Lucille said. Her voice had gone hoarse from her earlier bout of screaming. “And Freddie’s, too. What’s going on?”

“We leveled up,” Margot said.

They leveled up and she didn’t know exactly where to go from there. Margot placed her hand over Freddie to soothe him. He was recovering slowly but surely. The pain was beginning to leave her, as well, but whenever the fabric of her shirt rubbed against her back she let out a hiss.

Lucille sat next to them. She touched the pattern of wounds circling her legs, her fingertips coming away with blood.

“We have to get you to an apothecary,” Margot said. “We need to get you healed up.”

“Look at your hands. You’re as bad as I am.”

While the Hyland sisters were used to being hurt like this (and really, worse than this at times), this was the first time they were sitting with the ebb and flow of their injuries. Normally, their unfortunate dealings with monsters would be followed by death’s swift release. Afterwards, they would respawn, good as new.

Margot knew they would have to get used to this.

“What happens when you level up?” Lucille asked.

“I don’t know. I got a system message saying I can put my points wherever I want to.” Margot shook her head. “C’mon, let’s get back into town before any more things show up.” She stared at her sister for a moment, at the way her teeth were chattering. “Are you okay? Freddie’s wrecked.”

Not to mention that Margot was feeling pretty wrecked herself.

“I can wait. It’s okay. It’s kind of like a bunch of bee stings. It looks worse than it really is,” Lucille said.

“Bullshit. You’re bleeding. I’ll settle the point shit later.” Margot grabbed the bag they had hid Freddie in earlier. She held it open for him, down at his level. He shuffled into it and curled up comfortably. “Let’s go.”

“What about the colander? Don’t we have to go back and find it?”

“Forget about it. Grab the lantern.” Margot shook the feathers out of the damaged pillow. She figured she could repurpose it for something, perhaps a tiny vest for Freddie. GM knows he deserved something for the trouble they put him through.

Once they had the rest of their things gathered up, they headed back into Patchwork Town. Margot kept Freddie bundled up in her bag. She whispered to Freddie to be as quiet as possible. He gave no return reply, which hopefully meant he was getting the rest he needed.

The problem the girls faced was coming up with an appropriate story for their injuries. Wounds like the ones they had acquired—cuts and sucker marks—didn’t come from just anywhere. They’d be difficult to explain.

Telling the truth would be an open invitation for trouble. She didn’t trust that the apothecarist wouldn’t blab to the magistrates about them, especially since snitching came with its own set of rewards.

“Let me do the talking,” Margot said.

Years ago, the Patchwork Town streets had been unsafe at night. The darkness brought out the thieves and swindlers masquerading as lost tourists. They hid in the alleyways and around corners, waiting for victims they could easily pick off.

The thievery became especially bad the nights before the Raid. That was when desperate people would scramble for Credits in the hopes of hiring Psionic bodyguards.

Margot felt lucky that she never considered stooping that low. Her family consistently met their Favor quota without fail. Discipline kept them working to the bone. What better way to remain disciplined than the fear of death creeping over your shoulder?

And as for their Credits, their long-term connection to Eloise and her popular shoe store kept them paid and well-fed. The Hylands didn’t have to resort to thievery to get what they needed in life. As long as they followed the GM’s expectations, like any other craftsman family, they were fine.

Streetlamps tempered down the robberies. Having well-lit streets deterred would-be criminals. Only the boldest, and perhaps most death-fearing, dared to try where anyone could see them. It still happened on occasion. Not everything was perfect in their town, but the illumination helped Margot relax as they rounded the block to the nearest apothecary.

The apothecarist, a fellow by the name of Renier Van James, lived in the back of his store. Behind his counter hung curtains that did a poor job of blocking the view into his combined bedroom/kitchen, almost like he wanted people to know there was no divide between work and life for him.

The majority of Patchwork Town’s citizens were cut from a similar cloth. Work and life blended together.

She imagined that the whole 24/7 apothecarist shtick impressed the Psionic tourists that visited their town. They probably liked seeing an NPC who didn’t exist outside of his occupation, a man who was his job and only that. How dutiful, they might say.

Margot pressed her face against the glass windows of the store. None of his candles or oil lamps were burning. A CLOSED sign was strung to the doorknob. She tried to turn the doorknob, but it refused to budge.

“What happened to his late-night hours?” Margot gave the door a second try.

“Do we have to see him? There are other apothecaries out there,” Lucille said.

“They’re two-bit herbalists at best,” Margot said. She wrapped her bloody hand in the empty pillowcase and knocked it against his door. “Hey! Emergency!”

Lucille joined in. “Open up!”

While her sister banged on the door, Margot moved back to the window. She peered inside. Straining her eyes, she saw the curtains in the back part and Renier Van James’ small stature emerge. He had on a nightcap and loose pajamas that Margot would’ve confused for his every day wear if it weren’t for the gaudy pattern adorning it.

Renier Van James waved his arms, gesturing for Lucille to end her onslaught. Margot tapped on her sister’s arm to get her to stop. There was a jangle of keys, then Renier opened his door a crack. His eyes were bleary, sleep dusting the corners of them.

“Margaret and Lucinda Hillandale, is it? I’m closed. Come back tomorrow,” Renier said.

“Margot and Lucille Hyland, actually,” Margot said, “and we only need a minute of your time.”

“Tomorrow. It’s rude to rouse a man from his sleep. What would Edward and Heather say if I told them about this? You shouldn’t be out here this late at night to begin with, and I don’t know why the grid you’re standing here holding a bunch of pillows and pans. I should inform your parents of that, as well.”

“Edward and Heather wouldn’t say anything because that’s not their names, either,” Lucille said.

Margot gently elbowed Lucille. “Mr. James, please, we just need to buy some potions and we’ll be on our way. …Or are you Mr. Van James? Which one do you go by?”

“Van James. Good night. My store will be open at six in the morning. You can wait.” Renier began to close the door.

Margot slid her boot into the gap, preventing him from shutting it. “We’re not waiting. Do you see this?” She held up her hand to show him the ripped and marred skin. “And this? Show him your legs, Lucille.”

Lucille gripped the edge of her pants and rolled them upwards. Renier’s eyes widened with alarm, now looking fully awake and alert. He mumbled something that Margot couldn’t catch.

“See why we said it’s an emergency? She’s having a… A bad allergic reaction.” Margot settled on that. “And I cut myself on a pan handle.”

“We’re trying to figure out which one,” Lucille said, “which is why we brought both of them so you can figure out which one we should take to the police.”

Statements like that one were exactly why Margot told her sister to let her do all the talking. The silliness wasn’t going to help them. If anything, they looked like they were playing a prank, and that was probably why Renier Van James was staring at them without saying anything.

“So… Potions?” Margot asked.

Someone behind them cleared his throat, a rough grinding sound. Someone else, at a slightly higher pitch, copied the same ugly gurgle of a noise. Margot was ready to tell them that “once was enough, thank you,” but she was silenced upon seeing their outfits.

The two someones were dressed in the Patchwork Town police uniforms. Metal scales covered the front of their black leather vests, the hide material pulled over long sleeve shirts. They wore greaves buckled to their legs that went up to their knees. The streetlights reflected off of their metal-plated boots. Leather vambraces completed the look, covering them from forearms to elbows.

The Patchwork Town flag was stitched to the front of their caps. Their flowing capes were a customary holdover, a nod to old traditions. The most attention-grabbing part of their outfits, though, had to be the holstered sabers at their hips.

Margot concentrated on them to learn of their strength.

[EQUIPMENT: Steel Saber

Type: Sword

Quality: Excellent

Damage Value: 4

Effect: High chance of inflicting Stun effect.]

“We apologize for interrupting your sleepover,” one of the officers, a young man with the beginnings of peach fuzz on his face, said. He broke Margot’s concentration. “We have some questions we’d like you to answer.”

The second, a female officer, had her hair in twin braids. She rested her hand on the hilt of her saber, her gaze bouncing between the girls and old man Renier Van James.

Renier threw up his hands. “Oh, nothing like that is happening here, no. No. You have the wrong idea, officers. They’re customers. There’s no sleepover of any kind happening here.”

“Do your customers normally do that?” The policewoman tilted her head towards Lucille who was still baring her legs.

“She was showing me her injuries,” Renier said. “Marcille, I’ll have to see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“It’s Lucille,” Lucille corrected.

The policeman openly looked at Lucille up and down without an ounce of shame. “You look like you ran into some trouble.”

“Allergies,” she replied.

The officers exchanged a glance. The policewoman said, “We’re going to have to ask all three of you some questions.”

Margot swallowed thickly. Freddie hadn’t stirred inside of the bag. She prayed that he would stay that way. She controlled her breathing, focusing on each breath to stay calm. As long as the police didn’t pry too hard, the Hyland sisters’ late-night adventure would go unnoticed.

Renier opened his door the rest of the way. He went behind his counter and took out a book of matches to light the candles resting upon the shelves. The Hyland sisters hadn’t extinguished their lantern, so it provided warm lighting for the interior of the store.

Bottles of potions and bags of herbal remedies lined the walls. An eyeball suspended in a jar stared back at Margot. “For your safety — do not touch” signs were plastered around the room. Everyone knew that the worst stuff wasn’t kept out on display. That’d be a violation of apothecary code. But the message was enough to ward off the wandering hands of literate children.

“Pour this on your wounds. It’ll seal them and it’ll be as if you were never injured in the first place.” Renier grabbed a small jar of red liquid. “This is a potent concentration from the Redfield Tree.”

“How much is it?” Margot took it, surprised at its warmth.

Renier smiled. “Free if you get out in the next minute.”

The policeman cleared his throat.

“You should get that cough checked out. We’re in an apothecary,” Lucille said.

“He was doing that to remind you that no one is leaving until we’re finished talking,” the female officer said. “Do any of you recognize the people in this sketch?”

She thrust out a piece of paper, clutching the topmost edge. Head-and-shoulders drawings of a man and woman looked back at Margot. The man was balding and had a brush-like mustache. His features were round, and the woman’s features were even rounder. The most distinguishing part of her face was the beauty mark that dotted her chin.

“Aren’t they the weavers from Grimhild?” Lucille asked. “They moved here about a month ago, I think?”

Patchwork Town didn’t have many lures for outsiders, which made the Grimhild couple’s move strange to Margot. They were an insular community. The families were close-knit with buyer/seller relationships established for decades. It was difficult for anyone not from their town to reach that level of acceptance, but Margot liked to think that if someone worked hard enough at it, they’d find their place in Patchwork Town.

Honestly, though, Margot questioned the mental stability of anyone who moved into Patchwork Town. Why sign up for a life of weekly Raid Days and Favor-related misery? Patchwork Town’s citizens lived through it because it was the only life they knew. They were raised for it. Their families had been there for generations.

For the weavers to have left Grimhild, it must have been worse than Patchwork Town.

“Yes. Their names are Patrizio and Henrietta Grimbauer,” the female officer said. “Can you tell me the last time you’ve seen either of them?”

Margot searched her memory. “It’s been a while.”

“Maybe at the last church service?” Lucille supposed.

“They’re infidels. They don’t attend church,” Renier said.

The male officer tilted up his hat. “We’ve gathered as much. Based on your tone, I take it you’re not a fan of theirs.”

“I caught the wife trying to steal from my store. She seemed desperate, so I let her have the item. It was only a simple potion, something with minor healing properties.” Renier gestured to a nearby shelf of red liquid jars. “That was a few days ago.”

“That’s generous of you,” the policeman said.

“She was desperate,” Renier repeated.

“Why are you asking about the weavers?” Margot asked. “Did they do something wrong?”

“They’ve gone missing. Henrietta Grimbauer was last seen this morning. We have it on good grounds that the Grimbauers were dabbling in something that they shouldn’t have,” the policeman said.

“Like what?” Lucille asked.

The policewoman cut to the chase. “We discovered contraband in their home that leads us to believe that they were Hacking or, at the very least, colluding with Hackers. It’s unknown if they were truly from Grimhild or not.”

“If I had known that I would’ve turned her in to the police immediately," Renier quickly said.

Hackers. Margot’s blood ran cold at the word. They came in several stripes, but they were generally known for breaking their way into the Great Mother’s data grid. NPC Hackers spliced their bodies with psychotronic equipment to emulate RPCs and see the numbers that they could see.

Margot hadn’t the faintest idea of how they did it. Everything she had been taught told her that Hacking was wrong. It led to accidental monster creation, sensory suffocation, and eventual brain death. It was a sin of the highest order against the GM. She’d had that drilled into her from many a church service.

“Um, sorry if this sounds rude, but isn’t this something to tell the Moderators about?” Lucille asked.

Moderators were agents of the GM. They didn’t have a constant presence in Patchwork Town, but they visited from time to time to monitor the town’s going-ons. Margot hadn’t had the privilege of meeting one herself. They tended to conduct their business in the shadows.

“The Moderators will be alerted after the problem has been dealt with,” the policewoman said.

The policeman added, “A rotten apple spoils the barrel. We shouldn’t involve them until we rid ourselves of it.”

In other words, remove the problem, or else they will all look like problems.

“You’ll tell us if you run into anything odd or catch wind of this Grimbauer woman, won’t you?” the male officer said, addressing everyone in the room.

“I will come straight to the station if I hear anything, Officer,” Renier said.

“Thank you for your cooperation. I trust that you will continue doing what you’re supposed to be doing, all of you. Alert us to any suspicious behavior you notice in any of your fellow citizens. Someone could be harboring Mrs. Grimbauer,” the male officer said. “We must be off to gather more information. Have a nice night.”

The female officer gave Renier, Margot, and Lucille one final narrow-eyed look before she and her coworker left.

Renier straightened out his nightcap. Margot didn’t miss the way his hands were trembling.

Margot headed to the door. She motioned for her sister to follow. “Thanks for the potion.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Lucille waved at him. She blew out one of his candles. If it wasn’t for the pain in her hands, Margot would’ve clapped to get her sister to stay on task and behave herself.

They were out, back into the night’s crisp cool air before they could hear Renier say anything in reply. The Hyland sisters hobbled their way home, the night’s events wearing on Margot’s bones.

Lucille, on the other hand, seemed to have more pep in her step than usual. She’d had a strange glint in her eyes ever since they exited the store. It persisted as they walked.

Margot didn’t have the energy to ask her what the source of that glint was.

Chapter 6

Henrietta Grimbauer was found and executed in the Town Square following the end of church service.

The sermon that day—delivered by a Psionic Cleric—was especially dour. It was a grim reminder to adhere to the GM’s expectations. They were warned to never stray off of the path to righteousness. To cultivate Favor was to cultivate love from the Great Mother. To be unloved was to be unworthy.

Worship took place on the days before the Raid. The Cleric assuaged their fears of the upcoming pain and let them know that everything that happened was part of the GM’s will. Blah, blah. It was the same old song and dance that Margot kept her mouth shut throughout.

What she couldn’t stay quiet through was the execution. Citizens gathered to witness it, many of them clamoring to get a front row spot. Officers were posted around the Square, their sabers at the ready to keep people in line.

In the center of the Square, Henrietta’s head and hands were pushed through the holes of a guillotine. Its menacing blade hung over her head. The executioner held the rope. When it was time, the rope would be let go, the blade would fall, and Henrietta would be beheaded.

A rag was stuffed in her mouth. The executioner said something to her that Margot couldn’t make out over the din of the crowd.

Edgar Hyland helped push people out of the way for his family. It was his way of getting back in the good graces of his wife who loved seeing heretics get what they deserved. Helena brimmed with excitement. Patchwork Town lacked in entertainment.

Lucille held Margot’s hand so she wouldn’t lose her as they made it to the front lines.

Margot made eye contact with a small child across the Town Square. She couldn’t be older than six. The teddy bear clutched in her arms was missing an eye.

The executioner dropped the rope.

Henrietta Grimbauer’s head, sliced free of her body, fell into the basket waiting beneath the guillotine.

***

When the Hyland sisters and Freddie snuck off to the woods that night, they were better prepared than when they faced their first session. They brought a potion with them, not wanting to bang on Renier Van James’ door again.

They kept their eyes peeled for strange movements among the trees. Every step they took was calculated, and the paths they chose were weighed carefully. Margot watched out for the best escape routes, should they need a fast exit.

And although they hadn’t had time to act on their plans yet, they drafted out designs for leather vests.

“I don’t know,” Margot said. “Vests are gonna take a lot of material. We might be better off making bracers and greaves for now.”

“But those aren’t good enough. Do you see the size of my strike zone?” Lucille waved her hand over her chest. Like Margot’s, it was covered up by a rope-tied pillow.

Without meaning to, Margot analyzed it.

[EQUIPMENT: Pillow

Type: Improvised Armor

Quality: Poor

Resistance Value: 1

Effect: None.]

“Yeah… These pillows are horrifically bad,” Margot said. “I’m just worried about Helena and Dad noticing a bunch of leather going missing.”

“We can volunteer to pick up the hides from the Caffreys. We’ll throw in a few extra Credits and that should be fine. They’ll give us more than we need.”

“I guess that could work.” It was in times like these that Margot appreciated how much of a schemer her sister was.

Freddie chirped at the girls. He pointed his head towards an approaching rabbit. Thankfully, this one wasn’t attached to a naked old man body. Antlers bloomed from its scalp. The twisted horns resembled trees more than what a standard stag would have.

Margot tightened her grip on her iron skillet. She and her sister wore leather gloves. They had a Resistance Value of 2 and, perhaps due to their age, a Quality rating of Fair. As long as they didn’t fall apart in the middle of a fight, Margot could deal with that.

She whistled. The horned rabbit made a beeline for her. Margot leaned down. She stepped forward, the pan’s circle low to the ground. The rabbit charged into it. Clang! Margot scooped the pan at the same time.

The horned rabbit went airborne. Lucille missed it. Her swing came up empty. The beast landed on its side. It lifted itself up, only for Freddie’s jaws to close in on its flank. It squirmed in the vice grip of his fangs.

Margot tasted blood.

Lucille made up for her earlier blunder. She struck the rabbit over its head. The antlers splintered. Another strike and the rabbit’s head splintered, too. Skull fragments and gore squelched onto her pants.

“How many points did that give you?” Lucille asked, unbothered by the carnage.

Margot approached the corpse. She kicked it to make sure it was dead. Freddie sat on his haunches, waiting for chunks of meat to replace the body. Unfortunately, the antlers were too fragmented to be useful. She doubted the GM would reward them with a perfectly formed pair.

She concentrated on her statistics menu. It floated in her mind’s eye.

[Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 2

XP: 6/144

Credits: 16

Shell: 100%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Psi

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Poise

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty): Unlocks the Tamer skill tree and grants the Tamer talent.

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Tamer to the Companion.]

[SYSTEM: You have 3 Ability Points and 3 Skill Points to spend.]

“Hey, I forgot about the level up thing. I’ve got points I need to use up,” Margot said.

“Yeah, but how much was the rabbit worth?”

“Six. Watch our backs while I do this.”

Margot didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the data. Streams of numbers ribboned around her. It was like she was lying in a void of soft plush, her body melting into its endless comfort.

The sensation flooded out everything else.

She pictured how the additional points might help her. Which category would best serve her at this moment? Power would embolden her melee skills. The Great Mother had recommended her to up those values.

Then, there was Psi. Something about it felt forbidden, even though she technically wasn’t a Non-Psionic. The prospect of taking the step into Psi powers made her feel faint. She was still an NPC at heart, after all. And as for Poise, when she rated its relevancy against Power and Psi at the moment, the others won out.

Margot trusted the Great Mother’s suggestion. She decided to apply 2 Ability Points to her Offensive Power and 1 AP to her Defensive Power. Cold rushed through her veins. Her muscles tensed. She flexed them, straining to pinpoint a difference in the feel.

She wasn’t sure if they were feathers or leaves, but something tickled at her cheeks. When did they get there? One drifted to her lips. Margot blew it upwards and away.

It stretched itself, stringing out like a spider’s web. It grew and grew. It became a constellation. Points dotted the lines, words and numbers drifting off of them. They reached this way and that way. Margot couldn’t find an end nor a beginning.

What was she supposed to do with this? Where was she supposed to begin?

It overwhelmed her.

The Great Mother listened to her frustrations. The GM culled the list, the spread of lines shrinking. She pared it down to what would be available to Margot and Freddie at their Level 2 states.

Margot murmured, “Show me something that will help us the most.”

[SKILL: Second Sight: When activated, the Tamer sees through the vision of the Companion and vice versa. This works within a range dependent on skill level. Increased clarity at higher levels. Drains Psyche while in use.

Type: Active/Shared

Primary Reliance: Neutral Psi

Prerequisite: Psionic Bond

Cost: 3 SP]

The skill description confirmed her and Lucille’s assumption that Psionic abilities drew from the Psyche pool. Just like taking damage lowered her Shell percentage, activating Skills would do the same thing to her Psyche percentage.

Margot made a mental note to deal with her Skills before she applied her Ability Points next time.

Hoping the GM wouldn’t steer her wrong, Margot accepted the recommendation. She purchased Second Sight with her Points.

A proverbial hammer struck the back of her head. Her eyes shot open. She stared up at her sister’s face.

Lucille held Margot’s cheeks in her hands. She exhaled a shaky breath.

“How long was I out for?” Margot asked. She realized that she was lying on the ground, her pillow armor cushioning her.

Lucille let her go. “I don’t know, about a minute? You went into another seizure thing. Freddie passed out, too.”

The wyvern stirred. He lifted his head up from where he was sprawled out.

“We must be having connection issues or something.”

“You’ve got drool on your face.”

Margot wiped it off. “Do you think this happens to every Psionic or just me?”

Lucille shrugged. “Probably just you. I mean, you’ve been reading Judith’s notebook, right? Did she ever mention anything like this happening?”

Margot shook her head and immediately regretted it. She clenched her teeth at the pain that soared across her vision. “No. Must be a me and Freddie thing, then,” she managed to say.

“What happened? What did you see?” Lucille asked.

Margot waved her hand. “I just added some points into my Power scores. Let’s just get back to hunting monsters, okay?”

“What’s with the standoffish attitude?” Lucille huffed. She dragged her leather gloves back on. Lucille fetched the lantern from where she’d placed it.

“I don’t have an attitude,” Margot said, the crispness in her voice making that statement ring false even to her ears. “It was just…weird. It was like the GM was with me, like she actually cared about me.” She hugged herself.

Lucille frowned. “I thought you thought the GM didn’t give a rat’s tail about us. What happened to that?”

“I don’t know. There’s a lot going on in my head right now. I mean, I can see her system messages, so she has to think I’m special, right? She’s not something the Psionics made up to hold us down. She’s real.”

Lucille’s eyebrows creased. She pursed her lips.

Freddie wandered over. He pressed his forehead into Margot’s thigh. She stroked his head and scratched him behind the ears.

“But you still find the data grid and status screen thing bullshit, right?” Lucille’s voice was hesitant. “The exclusivity of it and stuff, yeah? The fact that Psionics only get to have it? They shouldn’t be the only special ones. We should be allowed to see it, too.”

“Of course I think it’s bullshit. But now that I see the other side, I’m having a bunch of other thoughts…”

“Just don’t forget that you’re one of us. We’re in this together. You might be a complicated one, but you’re still an NPC.”

Lucille gave Margot a helping hand up. Margot got back to her feet. She patted the pillow—her sorry excuse for armor—and grabbed her iron skillet from the ground. According to Margot’s statistics, she had a long climb before she reached Level 3.

The Hyland party roamed the woods for enemies to face. They didn’t dare to venture too deep. Freddie kept them from doing so, his shrieks of warning reminding the girls to mind their common sense. Even so, Margot couldn’t help the surge of pride in her chest over the fact that she was on her second level, nor her urge to test her newfound abilities.

Did her Power points mean that she could beat anyone at arm wrestling? That was a small scale thought, sure, but at this point, she had to be stronger than the average Patchwork Town NPC. She was tempted to challenge her sister to a game of mercy until the group came across a coiled snake.

The snake had a spiky fin running down its back. It looked wet in the lantern light, as if it had recently emerged from water. Liquid oozed from the cracks between its scales.

Freddie and the snake entered a hissing match. The girls readied their weapons. Margot tilted her chin in the direction she expected Lucille to go. Take the other side, her look said. With a two-pronged attack, they could make quick work of the monster.

Lucille stepped on a twig.

It snapped.

The snake launched itself. Freddie leapt to meet it head on. They bashed into one another, the collision knocking them both back. Freddie fell over. The snake righted itself first. It wound itself back into its spring. Coiled up, it jumped for its next target: Lucille.

Margot stepped to block it. She was too slow. The snake slammed into Lucille’s knee. With a cry, she crumpled to the ground. Her good leg kicked out, desperate to fend off the snake.

The snake bounced out of her kicking path, not unraveling its shape. A duck and a dodge, and then it swooped back in for a mouthy strike. Lucille lifted her skillet in time to block her face. The snake’s fangs sank into her leather gloves.

Recovered from his daze, Freddie pounced on the beast. His claws crushed into the creature. The snake croaked out a scream. Margot rushed over. She stomped on it. Again, and again, and again, for good measure. Soon, there was nothing but blood and flattened skin left of the snake.

Ignoring the adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Margot crouched down low to check her sister’s wound. Lucille batted her hand away. She puffed out her cheek much like a toddler would.

“C’mon, I’m trying to help you,” Margot said.

Lucille conceded. She rolled up her pants, revealing her swollen knee. Margot asked her to bend it. Lucille couldn’t do that, let alone put any amount of weight on it.

Freddie nuzzled into her side.

Margot ripped the potion pouch free of her belt. “How about your hands? Did the snake get your fingers?” She slid the jar of red liquid out of the leather case.

Lucille yanked her gloves off. “Just a scratch. Give me the potion. I’ll take care of it.”

Margot passed it over. Lucille uncapped it, tilted it, and eased the liquid over her injured knee. She winced as its healing properties took hold. Her skin tinged pink from the potion, but more importantly, the swelling subsided. Lucille pressed her cut hand against her knee and brought it away. The scratches disappeared, the skin rapidly healing over.

“Damn, Renier gave us some good stuff,” Lucille said. “I bet this would have been worth a fortune if he made us actually pay for it.”

“Don’t move. You need to give it time to set,” Margot said.

“Sorry I keep messing up.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t been perfect, either.”

“But you’re not the one getting hit all the time. This is awful.”

Sensing the drop in her sister’s mood, Margot decided to change the subject. She couldn’t stand seeing her sad. “Hey… After we left Renier’s, you had this weird smile on your face. What was that about? You’re not up to something, are you?”

Lucille bucked up. Her smile returned, spreading slowly as it lit up her features. “It looks like things are changing in Patchwork Town and the police have no idea what they’re doing.”

“That’s got you smiling?”

“Yep.”

“Well… They caught the Grimbauer woman rather fast. That doesn’t sound like they’re clueless to me.”

“I bet they already had her when they were snooping around. I think they were searching for anyone in cahoots with her. Cahoots.” Lucille giggled at the word. “So that means there has to be other Hackers lurking around Patchwork Town.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The fact that they didn’t want to get Moderators involved. The rush to execute that woman. The way the police were eyeing up the crowd, looking real hard at our reactions. It was wild. Did you notice any of that?”

“I think I was too focused on the guillotine to notice.”

The whoosh of the blade; the thunk of Henrietta Grimbauer’s head hitting the basket.

“Something’s up,” Lucille said.

“Which means we’re going to have to be extra careful.” Not that they weren’t already careful, but they had to be more so now that the police and other people were actively looking for lawbreakers.

“I wonder if we’ll have an uprising on our hands.” Lucille petted Freddie’s back. He chirped, his eyes closing. “Fire. Riots in the street. Hackers leading the charge. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“You have a terrible definition for fun.” What Lucille described sounded more like a nightmare.

“You could lead it,” Lucille said.

Margot didn’t want to crush her sister’s spirit, but she needed to wake her up. “I’m not going to lead anything. The whole point of this is to get strong enough to take down the Stronghold. I’m not getting involved with any heathens or Hackers or whatever you want to call them. This isn’t a revolution.”

Lucille squeaked. “Heathens?”

“Maybe that’s not the best word for them,” Margot said, “but that’s pretty much what they are. Let’s be realistic here. They’re forcing themselves into something that isn’t theirs. The lengths they’ll go to see numbers…it’s disgusting. The GM didn’t give them numbers for a reason. They’re NPCs.”

“You sound like, like a regular Psionic. Who are you? What happened to you?”

“I’ve been thinking, that’s all.”

“That we should give up and be props like the Psionics want us to be? Did you forget when we stood up together and refused to carry on being that way? You must’ve lost your mind when you fainted.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all—”

“Forget it. Let’s go home. We have to get up early to die tomorrow. That is if you’re still dying like the rest of us. With your new attitude I wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t,” Lucille said.

Lucille tested her knee. She whistled through her teeth. Freddie placed one of his feet on her, a show of comfort.

“Let me help you up,” Margot said.

“I’m fine,” she snapped.

Margot backed off.

They made their way back into Patchwork Town in silence, save for the ambient forest sounds. Margot smuggled Freddie in the canvas bag they brought for him. The bottom of it was lined with the feathers from the destroyed pillow. Thus far, it seemed like he liked it inside of the bag. Whenever he was inside, he dozed off.

At night, he crawled inside of it and used it as a bed.

Once the Hyland sisters pulled themselves over the fence that separated the wilderness from civilization, they helped each other to take off their “armor.” They tucked the pillows under their arms and continued on.

It unnerved Margot to see Lucille so quiet. She’d been talking nonstop since they started their journey together, coming up with new strategies and things they could do during their training.

Margot bit her bottom lip. She must have done it again—said or did something wrong without thinking it through.

Wasn’t taking down the Stronghold enough of a revolution for Lucille? Anything else would lead any rebels (and calling them something as romantic as rebels was generous, seeing how they were infidels at best) right to the guillotine. Margot refused to be responsible for that.

The Grimbauers weren’t an inspiration for people to follow. Henrietta had gotten caught and her husband was next. As soon as Patrizio was caught, he’d join his wife’s grave. In the words of the police officer, the Grimbauers had dabbled in something they shouldn’t have. Their associates would meet the same fate.

It was best for Non-Psionics to stay away from Hacking.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Margot could feel the sneer in the female speaker’s voice. Not just the sneer, but the snottiness, as well. She knew who was talking without looking at her. She’d recognize that grating noise anywhere.

Delwen Adair and her band of adventurers leaned against the closed Black & Townshend butcher shop. They were dressed in their dark robes, every crony elbow-to-elbow with the next. The ghost man, that guy with the itchy beard, and the freckled redhead. If Margot had learned their names, she’d long since forgotten them.

“Is it normal for people here to wander around with pillows?” the pale man asked, tapping his finger against his sheet-white chin. “Patchwork Town is chock full of surprises, but none better than you. You’re even better than that beheading this morning! You’re a laugh and a half.”

“Don’t call her that. She’ll ruin our shoes next!” The ginger-haired boy gave her a toothy grin.

Margot exhaled slowly to control her rising temper. Lucille glanced at her. She put her hand on her arm to ground her.

Lucille mumbled, “Ignore them. Let’s just go. We don’t have time for this.”

“You owe me for what you did,” Delwen said. She wore a different pair of boots than the Diallos, ones that didn’t give her a significant boost in height.

“My dad took care of that already,” Margot said. “So you can march on out of here with your overpriced Holburtons. You guys, too, with those beef jerkies you call shoes on your feet. Get out of here.”

She focused in on the swords that they openly carried at their waists, curious of their power levels.

[SYSTEM: Unable to complete request. Item masking is enabled.]

Margot pinched her eyebrow to stem off the headache that seared there.

“Beef jerkies. That’s a good one,” the redhead said.

“That’s some big talk from someone whose shoes aren’t even that great,” Delwen said.

Scratch, scratch, went the guy who wouldn’t stop itching his beard.

“I’m sorry, but we’re the best damn shoemakers in Patchwork Town,” Margot said, not sorry at all.

“Patchwork Town, sure, but there is a whole world out there, sweetie. You don’t know anything.” Delwen crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m an expert on shoes. What the hell are you an expert on, because it’s not protecting NPCs or caring about anyone else or anything like that?”

“No expert would trash a pair of Diallo boots the way you did.”

“And no adventurer worth her salt would keep the Stronghold running.”

Delwen rolled her eyes. “This again?”

“Yeah, this again! Me and my sister, we’re going to take care of the Stronghold together.” If Margot’s arms weren’t full, she would’ve grabbed Lucille’s hand. “You Psionics won’t do it, so we will.”

“You best be careful with that kind of talk, girl. If the wrong people overheard you, you’d be in a lot of trouble,” the ghostly man said. Despite the gravity of his words, he wore an amused look on his face.

Lucille jumped in. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s kind of cute, actually,” he said. “I like you. I hate that you have it in your head that we’re cruel and unfeeling people, but, I like you.”

“The feeling’s not mutual,” Margot said.

“Same,” Lucille said.

His smile didn’t waver. “You might like us better once you hear our proposal.”

“What proposal? I didn’t agree on proposing anything to them,” Delwen said.

The bearded man’s itching grew faster.

The Phantom-looking man continued, “If you girls can clear the first floor of the Stronghold on the next Raid Day—a week from tomorrow—we will gladly assist you with taking care of the rest of it.”

“Definitely,” the redhead said. He nodded.

Delwen’s annoyance faded, replaced by sudden indifference. She shrugged. “Sure.”

“We don’t need your help,” Margot said. “You’ll probably do something that’ll get us killed. I’ll do everything on my own and you can watch me do it.”

“You’re an NPC. Trust us, you’ll need our help if you want to conquer that Stronghold,” the pale man said. “You don’t have any levels.”

Margot blurted out, “Oh yeah, I do! I’m Level 2!”

The redhead’s ginger eyebrows shot up. “Well, that’s amazing, and completely unheard of. With power like that, you’ll take down the Stronghold in no time.”

The bearded man stopped his scratching to speak. His eyes were wide with awe. “A Level 2 NPC. Truly amazing. She must be the Chosen One.”

Delwen sighed. “Chosen One or not, everyone knows you have to be at least Level 3 to reach the top of the Stronghold. She’ll never make it. Look at her.”

“What a shame. I thought we were talking to a real hero,” the ghostly man said. “Were we wrong?”

Lucille said, “You’re not wrong. We’re heroes. We’re going to do your job for you.”

“And I’m going to be way better than Level 3. I’m going to be Level 4 and crush everything in that tower. Just you wait and see,” Margot said.

Delwen smirked. “We will see, alright.”

“Does that mean you’ll take us up on our offer?” the pale man asked.

“Yeah,” Margot said. She didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to force the Psionics to eat their words. They expected her to be a weakling, someone without any levels that required their help.

They had no idea about Margot’s secret weapon.

That Stronghold would be leveled to the ground by the time she, Freddie, and Lucille were done with it. The Psionics would get to watch the whole thing and be amazed.

“Perfect. We’ll meet you right here next Raid Day, early in the morning. Bring the best gear you’ve got,” the pale man said. “Good luck on your training.”

“Yes, do your best. We can’t wait to fight alongside you.” The redhead flexed his arm.

Margot wanted to gag.

She’d rather die than have their disingenuous help.

Chapter 7

Margot died the next morning. A greenskin axed her in the back of the head.

When she respawned in her bedroom, she found Freddie lying in a heap on the floor. He sobbed, every breath he took in a whimper that brought tears to Margot’s eyes. She cradled him in her arms, rocking him from side to side.

Lucille respawned in her bed. She rematerialized in a minor flash of light. There was a slash through the front of her shirt. She laid her arm over her eyes and groaned.

In time, the blood soaking their clothes would disappear.

In time, no one in Patchwork Town would have to go through this anymore.

***

Edgar joined his family for breakfast that morning. His appearance was helped by the fact that his respawn point was tethered to their home.

Margot had yet to talk to him about Judith’s notebook. It still felt too soon, like picking open a poorly formed scab.

Helena and Edgar seemed to be on better terms, at least. They passed the breakfast biscuits to each other without erupting into an argument or resorting to snide remarks, so that was a good thing.

Margot didn’t need her Psionic scanner eyes to know that Helena’s meal was less than Poor Quality today. Freddie wouldn’t mind the taste, though. He was content eating just about anything, with a clear preference for freshly killed meat.

As Margot set down her glass of fruit juice, she wondered how much more difficult it would be to feed him when he was older. Griseldis, his mother, had been massive, and it was reasonable to believe that Freddie would reach a similar size.

Lucille chewed through her squeaky eggs without a problem. “Mom, Dad, do you mind if me and Margot bring back the leather haul from the Caffreys this week?”

Edgar put down his fork. “Why?”

“Because,” Margot said, “we want to see every side of our business.” She pulled a random excuse out of her ass.

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Helena said.

“You’ll need a cart when you go to meet them. Our order form is in the workshop. The latest batch should be ready in a few days,” he said.

Margot was surprised that her father let them do it without a fight. Maybe if Helena hadn’t been there, he would’ve been his usual gruff, standoffish self. He would’ve put his foot down, just like he truly wanted to if his frown was to be believed.

“Mom and Dad, are you guys okay now? Or are you still fighting?” Lucille asked.

Margot choked on her food. She banged on her sternum to dislodge it. Why did her sister have to go and disturb the peace by asking something like that? And so blatantly, too?

Helena dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Couples fight sometimes, dear. It’s normal. You’ll find out when you’re older.”

“We’re not five. We know how these things work,” Margot said.

“Your mother and I are fine. It’s not for you girls to worry about,” Edgar said. “Let’s not delay our meals. We have much to do today at the workshop.” He sliced into his food.

“When we’re all done, I’ll rinse off the plates while you guys go on ahead.” Margot had taken to doing that in order to collect scraps for Freddie to snack on throughout the day.

“There’s no need for that,” Edgar said.

“With all due respect, you haven’t been here in a while. I’ve been doing this. It’s okay,” Margot said.

“Let her do it. I, for one, appreciate how polite our girls have been lately. We ought to treat them to some apple fritters, shouldn’t we?” Helena asked.

Lucille cheered. “Yeah!”

Margot would’ve eaten anything as long as it would wash the taste of Helena’s horrid food from her mouth. Apple fritters sounded amazing.

***

There was no moon that night.

Lucille stood over their latest kill. The breeze brushed through the Hyland sisters’ ponytails. Freddie waited for the earth to swallow the baby snake monster and for the GM to reveal their latest prize. Violence came with rewards.

Blood trickled from Margot’s nose. She had taken a bad dive to avoid getting hit. She wiped herself clean on her sleeve.

“Good job on that one,” she said to her sister.

Lucille beamed, her pillow splattered with purple blood. “Thanks!”

“Must’ve been the apple fritters we had at lunch. They gave you super powers.”

Lucille shrugged. As soon as the hunk of meat materialized in to view, Freddie jumped on top of it. Having no shame about being a messy eater, he ripped into it. Lucille gathered up the Credits they’d earned.

“Maybe we can bribe the blacksmith into letting us have a weapon,” Lucille said. “Look at all this coin.”

“That’s not gonna work. Not with the Hacker drama going on,” Margot said.

“We could sneak into their studio and craft one ourselves.”

“Do you know the first thing about crafting a sword? Because I don’t.” Margot tested a swing of her iron skillet. “This thing feels like it’s getting lighter for me, anyway.”

“That’s Level 2 for you! Hey, did you see where the other rabbit went?” Lucille asked.

Margot leaned down. “Freddie, can you sniff out where that rabbit is?”

Margot was thankful that their Psionic Bond made it easy for them to understand one another. If the hatchling had been an actual baby that she had to teach commands to, Margot would’ve screamed.

Freddie waddled in the direction that the rabbit had gone. He led the girls to a grassy area. The grass was so high that it reached their knees and went over Freddie’s head. Lucille moved forward to enter it, but Margot put her arm out to stop her.

“What?” Lucille asked.

“I bought a Skill when I leveled up,” Margot said. “It lets me see through Freddie’s eyes and the other way around, too, if I want. Sounds pretty terrific, huh?”

“Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”

Margot didn’t have a good answer, so she opted not to say anything. “Watch my back while I do this. I have to stay perfectly still with my eyes closed.” She sat down and folded her hands in her lap.

“Way to not give me a choice,” Lucille said.

“You know you would’ve said yes.”

She closed her eyes. Margot repeated Freddie’s name in her head. The darkness behind her eyelids transitioned into a point of view from a far smaller height. The edges of her vision blurred. Through Freddie’s viewpoint, she was able to stare at herself from the outside at an angle she’d never seen herself from.

Her hearing was muffled, but Margot could tell that Lucille was instructing Freddie to find the rabbit in the grass. He followed her explanation, Margot’s view bouncing as Freddie pushed through the tall grass. Every so often, foggy streaks shot across what she was seeing. She figured that must have been part of the clarity issue the Second Sight skill had at such a low level.

Grass, grass, and more grass. Her Psionic Bond with him allowed her to sense his childlike excitement as he explored the greenery. He had to use his head to push the blades aside. The further into the brush he went, the more the colors in her vision faded to gray.

A hand against her back, and Margot’s eyes shot open. The lost connection jolted a quake through her skull. She gritted her teeth, cursing through a clenched jaw.

“Why did you do that?” Margot asked.

Lucille didn’t have to answer. The three horned rabbits gathered before them served as a reply just fine. They scraped lines into the dirt with their paws. They gnashed their very long, very yellow teeth at the girls. Their tree-like antlers ended in sharp points at every curved branch.

Margot scrambled to her feet. She clutched her iron pan tight in her hands. Lucille ran for the furthest rabbit. She batted at it with her weapon. Margot’s attention was drawn away by the approach of the two others. She dug her heels into the ground.

“C’mon,” Margot taunted them.

The two horned rabbits glared. They lowered their heads for a charge. Margot bent at the knees. They launched themselves at her and soared through the air.

She fell to the side. She drew out her arm. Crack! The pan hit one of them while the other flew over her. Margot got back up. She turned on her heel in time for the rabbits’ next leap.

She managed to hit one. It spun through the air from the force. The other rammed into her leg. Margot dropped her pan. The rabbit’s horns were stuck in her. Its teeth chattered, unable to reach her flesh. Margot gripped it by the horns and yanked it free of her limb. A spurt of blood followed.

With all her might, Margot tossed the rabbit away. She didn’t have time to breathe before its friend came for her again. One hand gripping her wound, Margot grabbed her skillet and struck at the rabbit.

The awkward movement made her take a misstep. The rabbit took advantage of it. It aimed its antlers at her shin. It cut into the leather of her boots, but didn’t break through to her skin. Margot pulled her foot away.

Pain viced her arm. She glanced at the grass where Freddie was. The green waved wildly, a sign of rapid movement.

Margot backed up to create more distance. The rabbit stayed on her. At this close of quarters, the iron pan was horribly cumbersome. Margot changed her grip. She tightened her fingers around the pan’s circle.

Margot smashed it downwards, on top of the rabbit’s horns. The antlers splintered to pieces. She lifted it up and rammed it down again, harder this time.

The rabbit’s head gave way.

Something hit her from behind. Margot fell forward. A cloud of feathers surrounded her. She thrashed her body, moving on instinct. Margot’s arm collided with the second rabbit’s antlers, the fabric of her shirt sleeve tearing away. Margot rolled onto her back.

Her attacker jumped onto her chest. She struggled to breathe, its weight heavy. The rabbit tilted its head downwards to stab her. Margot grabbed it by the neck before it could. Every muscle in her arm tensed as she squeezed.

Even through the leather of her gloves, she could feel the rabbit’s pulse racing as it struggled to free itself.

Freedom never came.

Margot kept one hand wrapped around its throat. Her other hand, she drove palm-first at its chin. She forced its head back, snapping its neck with a pop. Its body collapsed on top of her, limp.

She tossed it aside. Margot swallowed deep gulps of air. Although nothing had happened directly to her arm, pain continued to fire through it.

A sick taste entered her mouth, which she had to spit to get rid of.

When she did, she caught sight of her sister. Lucille was sitting next to the body of the horned rabbit she’d killed. Lucille had her hand on her heart, no doubt feeling the fast rate it was probably going. Margot herself could hardly hear anything over her own heartbeat. Her blood rushed in her ears.

“Are you okay?” Margot called out to her.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Lucille said in a way that told Margot she definitely wasn’t. Her hands were covering her side. Her pillow was torn, the downy feathers in a pile around her.

“I’m gonna get Freddie,” Margot said.

She limped as fast as she could over to the high grass. More pain fanned out over her other arm. Margot swore, the word ripped out of her throat. She called for her wyvern. Where was he?

Freddie returned the call with a screech.

Margot ran for him, no longer caring about her own injury. She’d deal with that later. She needed to save him. His heart thundered in her chest, the feeling making her want to rip herself open. It was a maddening sensation, a constant echo and duality of their shared terror.

Margot found him in a place where the grass was parted. The horned rabbit had done a number on his wings. Margot tackled it, her body overtaking it. She gripped it by the horns. They cut through her gloves, but gave her more grip so she could raise the rabbit up and then slam it down.

She shut her eyes to avoid getting stray bone fragments in them. Margot didn’t stop bashing the creature into the ground until she could no longer feel it struggle.

Margot dropped its corpse. She crawled to where Freddie lay.

His wings had been ripped straight through, deep gouges boring holes in them. He shivered, his body slick with blood. Freddie made a pained sound, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his head.

Tears clouded Margot’s view. What was she thinking, leaving him alone like that? He was still a baby, a hatchling that needed to be taken care of. She’d failed him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her words watery. She scooped him up and hurried out of the grass.

“Oh, Great Mother,” Lucille gasped.

“Potion, now! They tore him up!”

Lucille cringed as she got up, but she didn’t delay in bringing the item to Margot.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Companion is at 25% of Shell.

Companion is taking Bleed damage.

Companion is at 24% of Shell.]

“Shut up!” Margot yelled.

“I didn’t say anything,” Lucille said.

“Not you.” Margot shifted Freddie in her arms. She unscrewed the cap with her teeth and dumped out a good portion of the bottle over Freddie. He squirmed as it splashed him. “Don’t move, little guy. You have to let it take effect.”

Margot crouched to her knees.

“With the rate that we’re going, we’re gonna run out of that by the end of the night,” Lucille said.

“We should probably end it right here. Look at him. I shouldn’t have let him go off by himself.”

“He wasn’t really by himself. You followed him with your new Skill and then after that we were basically close to him the whole time.”

Margot shook her head. “We shouldn’t have separated. What if we were fighting something worse, like that old man rabbit thing from the first time we went here?” Margot shuddered at the memory. “Splitting up was a stupid move. Totally idiotic. …I don’t know why I even listened to the GM.”

“What did she say? She told you to separate from him?” Lucille glanced down. “Also, um, you should do something about your leg. It looks nasty.”

“Take care of yourself first.” Margot passed the potion to Lucille. “She recommended me to pick up the Second Sight thing, just like she recommended me to put points into Power.”

“You should put points into Psi and start shooting magic beams and shit.”

“I’d rather not get into that yet. I want to get my body stronger.”

“Didn’t you just kill a bunch of rabbits barehanded?”

“Sort of.” Margot thought about it. “Basically, yes.”

“Then, it’s working. You’re getting what you want,” Lucille said, “but I do think it’s a good idea for you to not listen to whatever the GM has in mind for you. The GM doesn’t like us, okay? She probably told you to get Second Sight to screw you over in a fight, as a way of getting back at you.” Lucille held up a finger. “Think about it. Second Sight’s not a fighting skill at all. It doesn’t even go with a Power point gain.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Margot said.

“You have to ask yourself what kind of fighter you want to be. It’s not about what the GM wants you to be. Nope, nope, no siree. It’s about you.” Lucille sat down in front of Margot and Freddie. She loosened her pillow armor, a good chunk missing out of it. She took it off and winced as she poured the potion on the wound above her hip.

Margot took the bottle when Lucille was finished. “My mom was an archer. I don’t think I want to copy her, though, because, like, where the hell am I gonna get a bow and arrows?” The red potion stung as it hit her broken skin. The liquid hissed as it worked to close the wound. “Only got a couple drops left.”

“Just use it. We’ll buy another one tomorrow.”

“You’re not hiding anything, right? Any injuries you don’t want me to know about?” Margot eased her gloves off.

“No, the damn thing just got me in my side.” Lucille looked at Margot’s hands. “Damn, both of you got ripped to shreds. Those horns got you good. You should buy more Defensive points. You need them.”

“I think I want to add to my Poise. Make myself so fast and nimble that these assholes won’t even be able to touch me.” Margot dumped the last of the potion over her hand and rubbed her palms together. “Maybe we can get some Credits if we sell this glass to someone.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I picked up all the Credits and junk the rabbits dropped. Well, except for the meat. I don’t want to touch that.”

“I don’t blame you. Freddie will get it once he’s feeling better.” Margot tickled the bottom of his foot. Freddie kicked to get her to stop. He chirped a sharp warning. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were so ticklish.”

They waited for his wings to fully repair. The girls chatted about the possibilities Margot could build herself into. She could become Patchwork Town’s strongest woman by stacking most of her points into her physical Power or she could make herself into their best dancer by focusing in on her Poise.

She could run off and pretend to be a magician—not a Psionic magician, but an illusionist who relied on sleight-of-hand and other card tricks like that. A performance magician, one that got on the nerves of the real magicians out there because their magic wasn’t real.

Margot doubted she would pursue an adventurer’s life after the Stronghold’s fall. Everything would end with the Stronghold. Her journey would be no more.

No. That didn’t sound quite right.

On second thought, it would be the beginning of a different journey, one where she didn’t have to be a shoemaker. So whatever point values she applied to herself should be ones that would serve her and her future vocation, whatever that may be.

Margot’s mind buzzed with dreams of the future, and the millions of possibilities that it held.

***

Crafting was another important facet of their journey. Although their town’s laws prevented them from outright buying armor, the girls were lucky to know their way around leather and leatherworking tools. They could construct their own. Slipping the Caffreys some extra Credits allowed them to buy hide for their crafting activities.

They lost a night of training to do it, but Margot knew it was necessary. Since their parents weren’t around, Freddie was free to wander around the workshop. He enjoyed jumping from the workbench down to a stool and then to the floor. Margot had to help him back up every time he did that, but seeing him happy made the pauses in her workflow worth it.

She cased the leather she was working on, wetting it with a damp sponge so she could make it more pliable. The girls had already taken each other’s measurements to ensure that the vests that they were working on would fit properly. Their hide pieces were cut out according to their specifications with a few additional inches in case they made any mistakes.

A basket of lace sat nearby, a pile that wouldn’t be touched until the project was at its end. Eyelets were strewn about the table. Their chisels and punch tools laid in wait, ready to make their marks when it was time.

As Margot worked, she could see a system message detail her project completion rate. It increased as she continued along the process.

[SYSTEM: Crafting progress is at 64%.]

“We should stamp a design into this,” Lucille said. “I’m thinking…a boot, maybe, since that’s sort of our family’s symbol and all.”

“I’m not stamping a boot into this,” Margot said, admiring the smoothness of the leather. “Anyway, the point is to keep everything simple. Two halves sewn at the shoulders that get laced up together at the sides. I’ve got the prong lacing needle over here when you’re ready.”

“I’d rather use a single prong.”

“That’s gonna make it take twice as long. Use the multi-prong. We’ve only got one night.”

She wondered if there would be enough time for them to go out to the forest after they were done.

“Have you been reading Judith’s book?” Lucille asked.

“Not really. I pretty much go straight to sleep as soon as we get home. I haven’t been reading much of anything.”

“She might have some advice in there for you, like some secret combat suggestions or something.”

“Not for her Non-Psionic daughter, no.”

“You think she’s ever gonna come here some day? Ever since we got Freddie, I’ve been waiting for her to just burst through the doors and say ‘hey Margot, it’s me.’”

Margot scoffed. “Yeah, like she’d sound like that. You saw the way she writes. She’s all dignified-sounding and stuff.”

“‘Hello, Margot, it is I, your mother, here to make your acquaintance after 17 years of silence. Thank you for raising my baby’s baby.’ Would she sound kinda like that?”

“Let’s just quit while you’re ahead,” Margot said. “And you’re not even that far, mind you.”

“You’re no fun.”

Margot grinned, and started working on sewing the leather torso halves together at the shoulders. Freddie, no longer jumping off of her workbench for fun, watched her movements with his big, round eyes. She saw herself reflected in them.

She pierced the thick needle through the leather as she talked. “If we’re not monster hunting tonight, we’re gonna have to do something about food for him.”

Lucille yelped. She popped her finger into her mouth.

Margot sighed, not looking up from her work. “It’s a wonder you’re not this clumsy when Dad and Helena are around.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m not rushed when I’m working with them. I get clumsy when I’m tired.” Lucille shook out her hand.

“We don’t have time to be tired. We’ve got ground to make up.” Margot hadn’t realized it last night due to how intense of a time it had been, but her Raid Day death had set her experience points back. It turned out that she should’ve been much further than she was. She’d have to take more stringent notes on the matter.

“I can’t wait for this to be over,” Lucille said, “People are going to write musicals about us. We’ll be the talk of bards’ tales. Just think about how many books about us there will be. I bet you we’re gonna become legendary.”

Margot could see it, too—their names written on the big signs that hung over the local theater. They’d get discounts everywhere as a thank you for their service to Patchwork Town. Psionics would realize that Non-Psionics can go toe to toe with them. Their assumed superiority would be declared unfounded. And, everybody would be in awe of her and Lucille’s prowess.

It wouldn’t be long until they could revel in the fruits of their labor.

“This is the hard part. The training, the crafting, all of that. You just have to keep your head up through all of it,” Margot said. “We can’t afford to be sloppy.”

Any mistake or slip-up could be fatal. They’d already had a few close encounters during their training sessions in the woods.

Margot continued, “So it’s important that we make things of Excellent Quality here. We have to make these vests the best they can be.”

She finished off the shoulders and laid the leather over a slab. Margot grabbed her chisel and mallet. According to their design, the sides of the vest would close like boot laces. Holes would be made at the sides, grommets would be applied, and laces would be pulled through for tightening purposes. The vests were a definite upgrade from those pillows they’d been using.

A metallic clicking sound came from the door. Margot whipped her head towards her sister. Lucille’s mouth hung open. The doorknob turned. More noises, like a key having difficulties turning the locking mechanism.

“We have to hide Freddie.” Margot snatched him off of the bench table. He whimpered from her grip. Muttering a quick sorry, she ran to the corner of the room where they kept the leather piles. “Don’t come out,” she said to him.

“What do we do with all of this stuff?” Lucille asked. There was too much to hide.

Margot didn’t get a chance to reply. Just as she concealed Freddie in his hiding place, the front door to the workshop swung open. In walked their father, his expression dark and his eyes cold. His grimace grew as he surveyed the supplies and materials on his daughters’ workbenches.

Edgar scratched his fingers through his hair. He spoke quietly. “What in the Great Mother’s name do you think you’re doing in here?”

“Nothing,” Lucille tried.

“Don’t play me for a fool, Lucille.”

Lucille let her work drop out of her hands. Her needle clattered across the wood. Edgar took heavy footsteps towards her table. Margot moved to join her, intercepting his path and causing him to take a pause.

“Is this what you girls have been sneaking out for? What is this?” Edgar asked.

Lucille laughed nervously. “Sneaking out? Us? The two of us doing something like that? No way. Me and Margot would never ever ever sneak out. Right, Margot?”

Maybe they hadn’t been as discreet as they thought.

“You’re stealing from our family and starting your own side business? Tell me what’s going on here.” Speckles of Edgar’s spit hit Margot. She wiped them from her face in disgust. His immediate assumption of their betrayal stung, and she hoped her hurt didn’t show. He’d likely misinterpret it as guilt if it did.

“Actually, this isn’t a side business,” Margot said. She clasped her hands behind her back. Projecting an air of confidence (and hiding her nerves), she rocked back on her heels. “On the contrary, we’re doing something that is very good for our family business.”

Lucille nodded vigorously. “Definitely!”

Edgar spoke as if he hadn’t heard them. “This is what you wanted to go to the Caffreys for. I never should’ve trusted you.”

What Margot wanted to say was that it was funny how things like that worked, the whole misplacement of trust thing, but she refrained. She said, “We’re making vests as an apology to Delwen Adair, for ruining her boots and making a mockery of ourselves the other week. We ran into her the other day and we thought that this would build our goodwill back up.”

Edgar growled. “I don’t believe you.”

“What else could we be doing? We’ve got plenty of clothing stores in Patchwork Town already. There’s no point in us branching out to something other than shoes,” Margot said.

“Why would she need two vests?”

“Because she’s an adventurer. And because we want to get it perfect. We’ve been practicing.”

“That’s an awful lot of practice for something so simple to make.”

Lucille chimed in, “It’s quite deceptive, really. You’d think it’d be simple, but it’s not. Delwen Adair’s a bit of a hard client to work with, you know? We show her the vests that we make and whenever she doesn’t like them, we come back here to make them better. We’re on our eighth ones!”

Margot wanted to shake Lucille for adding that bit in. She had to roll with it, though. “Yes, so now we make two vests and show them both to her.”

“She’s been going through that many vests?” Edgar asked.

“She probably just wants to make Margot miserable,” Lucille said. “I get the feeling she’ll never be satisfied.”

Edgar hummed in thought.

Margot smiled uneasily.

[SYSTEM: Companion is requesting viewpoint access through the usage of the Second Sight skill. Do you accept this request? It will cost Psyche to run.]

The system message took her by surprise. Startled, Margot grabbed the edge of the workbench to steady herself. Edgar stared at her questioningly. She played it off by reaching for Lucille’s vest-in-progress and held it out to him.

“See? We’ve been working hard at this. We didn’t want to tell you about it because…because it’s kind of embarrassing after everything we went through,” Margot said.

“You can put it down,” Edgar said.

Margot placed it back in front of Lucille. Her gaze lingered on the red brown-colored material. She froze as a chilling wave splashed over her. Heat blotted the corner of her eyes. She had to suck in her bottom lip to keep from making a sound as the Second Sight skill took effect.

[SYSTEM: Second Sight is now activated. Your Psyche will continue to drain while this is true.]

“You alright?” Lucille asked. “You’re breathing kind of hard…”

“You look faint,” Edgar said. “It’s late and you girls should go home. I’ll clean-up for you.”

Margot slightly slurred her words. “No, I’m fine. Everything’s okay. We just really need to get back to work and get finished here. I’m okay.”

“You’ve done enough for tonight,” he said.

“It’s cramps. Nothing to worry about.” Margot took the stool next to Lucille’s.

“What did you come here for, anyway?” Lucille asked. “You’re not doing extra work for a bunch of Psionics too, are you?”

“Of course not,” Edgar said. “I heard you girls come in late last night and decided to follow my hunch about where you might go. Turned out that I was right. Next time the two of you do anything like this, you have to tell me and your mother. I don’t appreciate any secrets.” He leered at them.

Again, Margot wanted to blurt out a question like, ‘Why did you keep Judith a secret, then?’ But she knew that saying that would be an invitation for a fight. The fight would inevitably lead to her father giving her and her sister a one-way ticket out of the workshop.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Just don’t stay out too late. I’m expecting you home by midnight at the latest.” Edgar’s eyes drifted to the leather pile in the corner, where Freddie was hiding. He squinted.

Margot found herself wishing that she could see what Freddie saw, to know if her father had locked gazes with him somehow.

“There’s a mouse in here. I saw it move,” he said.

“A mouse?” Lucille laughed like that was the funniest, most ludicrous thing she had ever heard. “What would a mouse be doing in here? That’d be so weird!”

“Or a rat. They can chew through the leather if we don’t get rid of them,” Edgar said. He stalked towards the leather pile.

Margot groaned loudly and slapped her hand on the table. Edgar stopped in his tracks.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Cramps,” she muttered.

“Ugh, cramps are the worst,” Lucille said. “Soon enough you’ll be bleeding like a stuck pig. Oh, father, it’s really the worst thing that can happen to us. It’s like being stabbed in the stomach repeatedly.” She made a stabbing motion. “The pain, oh, the excruciating pain, father! Let’s hope our dear Margot packed a pad.”

“Well… I’ll lay out some ginger for her to chew on at home. Would that help?” Edgar asked, his attention pulled away from the possible rat in the room.

Lucille spoke for Margot, “That would be lovely. Because you know that our red times are dire times, indeed. They’re the worst of times and the worst of times.”

“You said that twice,” he said.

“For dramatic effect.”

“I packed one, but I can’t put it on with you here,” Margot said. “So…you should probably go…” She cleared her throat.

“Leaking is terrible,” Lucille said. “Need I say more, father?”

“No, you needn’t say anything further. I’ll be going, then. I hope you feel better with your…issues, Margot,” Edgar said. “The ginger will be on the kitchen table.”

“Thanks,” Margot said.

Edgar gave his daughters a final glance before exiting the workshop. He locked the door for them, the sound loud in the now quiet room.

Margot put her head in her hands. “Lucille, seriously? That’s what you decided to go with?”

“Hey, it got him out of here, didn’t it?”

Margot focused on severing the connection that she and Freddie had through the Second Sight ability. An incredible dryness overtook her eyes, and she had to blink rapidly to keep them from burning.

[SYSTEM: Second Sight is now deactivated.]

“You can come out now,” Margot announced to him.

Freddie wiggled his way out of the leather pile. He bounded over to the girls and leaned his head against Margot’s foot. He made a chittering sound.

Lucille whistled. “That sure was close. Good thing he thought Freddie was a rat.”

Margot rubbed her eyes. “Dad’s obviously suspicious of us. We have to be more careful.”

It was the pursuit of being more careful that led to Lucille falling out of their window the next night.

Chapter 8

To avoid being seen by their father on the way out the door, the girls thought it would be best to climb down the tree by their window. Its branches were practically reaching their way into their room.

Margot went first to test its strength. She gripped the branch tightly, stepped off the window ledge, and shimmied hand-over-hand to a safer part of the tree. Wearing her new leather vest made it possible for her to properly wear Freddie’s backpack on her shoulders. His head stuck out of it, staring at the long drop below.

After that, it was Lucille’s turn.

Things started out fine. She grasped the branch and lifted herself off the ledge. Her feet dangled airborne.

Then, the branch snapped.

Down she went, so fast that Margot didn’t have time to process what had happened.

Margot couldn’t see her through the many branches that crested the tree. She eased down the heavy branch she was stooped on. Making sure to keep at least three points (two hands and a foot or two feet and a hand, or some other combination) attached to the tree at all times, Margot made her way down as fast as she could.

If it wasn’t for Freddie, she wouldn’t have been so cautious. She would’ve slid down as soon as she could to see if her sister was okay. For all she knew, her sister might not be there at all. She could’ve respawned back in their bedroom, back on top of the spawn point they had set up.

Either way, Margot didn’t have a choice other than to reach the bottom of the tree. Their one way back up into their bedroom had broken and possibly gotten her sister killed. How’s that for a great night so far?

Once Margot was near enough, she jumped the rest of the way down. She bent her knees so they could help absorb the landing shock. Then, she rushed over to her sister’s crumpled figure in the grass.

Lucille’s eyelids fluttered. Margot couldn’t see any outward signs of injury, but when she lifted Lucille’s head, she felt a stickiness through her hair.

“You okay?” Margot asked. She took off her backpack, mindful to let Freddie down easy. Freddie wormed his way out of it. Margot pulled out one of the red potions they’d taken from their family medicine cabinet. They hadn’t had the time to go to the apothecary yet, so they had to resort to borrowing.

Lucille struggled to raise her arm. “I think it’s broken,” she wheezed out.

“Dammit. And you’ve got a nasty cut on the back of your head. Turn your head to the left,” Margot said. She uncapped the bottle and tipped some of the contents out onto Lucille’s head wound. “Don’t move. This is a cheap batch. It needs more time to set.”

Margot couldn’t pronounce the name on the bottle, but she could tell it was inferior compared to the bottle Renier gave them. Not wanting to see beneath Lucille’s sleeve, Margot poured out some of the bottle over it without looking. Hopefully, if it was broken, the liquid would soak into the fabric and do its thing.

“More,” Lucille requested.

“If we use of any more of it, we’ll be all-out.”

What? Did she really just say that? Margot repeated her words back in her head, and instantly wanted to wring her own neck for her stinginess. Her sister needed help, for the GM’s sake. Lucille was the last person who deserved having things rationed. So Margot dumped the rest of the bottle where Lucille needed it, and sprinkled out the dregs in random just-in-case spots.

“Thank you,” Lucille said hoarsely.

“You’re welcome. Rest as much as you can. We’ll take the rest of the night off.” Margot had a hard time saying it.

“No. You should go. We don’t have a whole lot of time left to get you to Level 4.”

“I’m staying with you. It’s my fault you got hurt like this again.”

“More like the tree’s fault,” Lucille said. She closed her eyes. “My neck hurts.”

“Because of the fall?”

“No, because I can’t turn it. It’s like I’m talking straight into the dirt.”

“Yeah… This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t come up with the crazy idea to climb out the window.”

“Hey, accidents happen.” Lucille reached up with her good hand. She waved it in the air. Margot took it. Freddie pressed his cheek to the side of Lucille’s leg.

Since it was nighttime, it was doubtful that anyone would pass by their house and notice them. That thought did little to make Margot feel comfortable, though. If someone did happen to stare at the girls and notice Freddie beside them, something bad was sure to happen. Margot hoped that he’d be confused for a falcon or a weird-looking dog.

“It’s not your fault,” Lucille said. She squeezed Margot’s hand.

The night went to waste.

Margot did everything in her power to ensure that the next night wouldn’t also be one.

***

Margot plunged the scissor blades into the back of the horned rabbit. It screeched, its body bucking wildly. She shifted her footing for more space before slamming the pan lid down onto the creature. Its fragile horns shattered from the blow.

[SYSTEM: You have gained 8 XP!]

Margot yanked the scissors free of its flesh. She advanced on her next prey. The rabbit charged for her. Margot punched the lid forward. The monster collided with it.

It rebounded.

When it came for her a second time, Margot opened the scissors. She slashed the rabbit, the blades tearing a hole through its side.

Freddie tackled it. He ripped into the rabbit with his powerful jaws, and soon, the rabbit stopped fighting altogether as it went limp. Dead.

[SYSTEM: You have gained 8 XP!]

Lucille finished off the rabbit she was facing. Her iron skillet turned the monster into a sick pile of blood, pulp, and fur.

“Overkill, much?” Margot asked.

“You’re the one fighting things with a pair of scissors. That’s way more overkill than what I’m doing,” Lucille said. “That’s nasty!”

Margot had exchanged her old weapon set-up for a new one, one that would allow her to be limber and quick on her feet. The scissors were a definite change from the skillet. She had recommended her sister to make a similar switch, but Lucille thought it would be better to keep training up with the weapon that she was most used to.

Already, Margot felt much better fighting and much more legit as a fighter with her leather vest on. No longer did feathery flurries fly up about her whenever a monster managed to reach her chest or stomach. The leather did a decent job of deflection and shock absorption.

She scanned over the weapon in her main hand, just to remind herself of its worth.

[EQUIPMENT: Scissors

Type: Improvised Weapon

Quality: Fair

Damage Value: 1

Penalty: Improvised, -1.]

“I still don’t get why you’re fighting with those. Smashy smashy is easier than slicey slicey, you know,” Lucille said. “Meat’s here, Freddie. Come and get it.”

Freddie waddled over to where Lucille stood. She pointed out the GM’s gift with the tip of her boot. Freddie was on it in less than a second.

“It doesn’t throw me off-balance every time I use it. I can be more fluid with it.” Margot turned the scissors over in her hands as she re-examined the weapon.

[SYSTEM: User Unknown, are you aware that Damage Value can change depending on how you are using your weapon? Stabbing or swinging your EQUIPMENT: Scissors will yield different results! Try it on the next mob.]

“And looking at the scissors gave me a system message straight from the GM herself. As soon as I held it in my hands for the first time, I got a mini tutorial. I didn’t see that when I picked up the iron skillet,” Margot said.

“That’s weird,” Lucille said. “What’s so special about the scissors? They’re the ones we use for cutting leather and stuff, right?”

Margot shrugged. “Maybe she’s talking to me more because we’ve been working a lot? That’s the way it works, isn’t it? You curry Favor with her and she rewards you for it.”

“If you’re a Psionic, yeah.”

The leather-cutting scissors had a -1 penalty to them, but so far it didn’t look like that was directly stacking with the Damage Value they had. Margot wasn’t dealing zero damage every time she attacked. She figured her attack values were being pulled from her other stats and overall technique, and then those numbers were being factored on top of that.

Damage Value could have also come from a categorization rating.

While the finer points of her assumptions may have been incorrect, Margot knew that the meat of her thoughts had to be right. Otherwise, why would she be able to kill any of the monsters that she came across?

The Great Mother had referred to the monsters as a mob. Was that a specialty term for them? Margot didn’t see how the word ‘monsters’ fit into the word ‘mob,’ but she understood how they could function as a swarm. A mass of something horrible, like the slugs. The raids that happened on Patchwork Town certainly felt similar to being mobbed each time.

Margot checked on Lucille’s leather vest.

[EQUIPMENT: Vest

Type: Leather Armor

Quality: Good

Resistance Value: 2

Effect: None.]

When she checked her own, just to see if her analytical skills were improving, the text came back garbled and nonsensical.

[UIMEEQNPT: Stve

eypt: aleterh Oarrm

uqayilt: ogdo

ressinceta vleau: 2

effetc: noen.]

Pain knifed her temple. Margot shut her eyes to fight against it and hold herself up to the tides of misery.

Freddie whined.

Margot forced herself to relax the tension in her body. One muscle at a time, she released the tightness. Curled fingers, flexed arms, and onwards, all being shook out for looseness.

Freddie’s whining came to an end.

When Margot opened her eyes again, she saw Lucille crouched over her wyvern. Lucille cooed to him, humming a song that Margot didn’t recognize.

“Where’d you get that song from?” she asked.

“I made it up,” Lucille said. She cracked her knuckles. “It’s been a while since I last played the clavichord. After we take down the Stronghold, I’m gonna reward myself with hours and hours of playing. You’ll never be able to pull me away from that thing.”

The Hyland household didn’t have a clavichord of its own, so the girls had to go to Eloise the shoe seller’s house to get any playing in. There was also the tavern as an option. If she was being honest with herself, Margot didn’t have the skills for a public performance. Lucille did. Lucille could easily bring the entire tavern down in an eruption of applause and cheer. Had it not been for her confidence issues, she would’ve been able to do that night after night.

Hearing Lucille play was like being swept off to someplace else. It was as good as a fiction book. The melodies carried Margot away on musical journeys that had her forgetting herself. Neither she nor Lucille knew how to read music, and yet, Lucille was capable of composing near masterpieces. Her songs would’ve filled music sheets with ink dots and complex rhythmic pattern meant for musical geniuses.

While Margot shared a small handful of her sister’s abilities, she wasn’t unwilling to admit that she was far outclassed. When it came to the clavichord, Margot felt stiff. Like she was playing by the numbers and stringing together songs that sounded plenty nice, sure, but they were just alright. They didn’t hold the kind of excitement and buzz like the notes Lucille played. They lacked her level of liveliness. They didn’t dance or sing.

“Become a bard,” Margot said suddenly. “Become a bard and get far, far away from Patchwork Town, please.”

That wasn’t the first time Margot had ever told her that, but it was the first time it felt like a distinct possibility rather than a far-off dream. Once the Stronghold fell, the Hyland sisters would have all of Patchwork Town’s citizens eating out of the palms of their hands.

If the girls demanded five clavichords for their home (for what reason, Margot didn’t know), she was confident that the townspeople would provide them. If they wanted to spread their shoe production out on a national scale and establish Hyland shoe companies across the country, they could do that. They no longer would have to settle for being such small fries in an even smaller town buried under oppressive doctrines that were doing nothing but choking its citizens from pursuing their fullest potentials.

“That’d be fun,” Lucille said.

“It’s probably the Talent you were meant to have, if you were a Psionic or a glitch like me.”

Sometimes, Margot wondered what things would be like if their positions were reversed.

Freddie wandered back over to Margot. He ate the horned rabbit’s meat that was waiting for him on the ground.

She traced the wings on her necklace. Lucille hadn’t said anything back to her. Margot’s words about her sister’s probable Talent lingered heavily in the air.

Margot picked up the lantern. It swung gently by its handle, the beam of light it gave off scattering the shadows around them.

***

It wasn’t until the last night before the Raid Day that Margot made it to Level 3 and chipped a tooth in the process.

A gargle of the nastiest red potion she had ever tasted in her life fixed the tooth like it had never been damaged in the first place. She spit out the grossness into the grass, and wasn’t sure how much of it was the potion and how much of it was her blood.

“Dammit,” Margot said. She’d gotten careless.

“You’re lucky that snake didn’t bite your face off,” Lucille said. She held her iron skillet over her shoulder.

“Well, at least I finally made it to Level 3. Not enough time to get to 4, though.”

“They said all you’ve got to be is at least Level 3 to take down the Stronghold, so you’ll be fine.”

Freddie gobbled up the snake meat that had been left behind in the wake of its corpse. Lucille gathered up the Credits from her kill and pocketed them.

Margot focused on her current statistics screen.

[Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 3

XP: 4/256

Credits: 85

Shell: 87%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 3

Defensive: 2

Neutral: 1

Psi

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Poise

Offensive: 1

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty): Unlocks the Tamer skill tree and grants the Tamer talent.

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Tamer to the Companion.

Second Sight: When activated, the Tamer sees through the vision of the Companion and vice versa.]

[SYSTEM: You have 3 Ability Points and 3 Skill Points to spend.]

She slid her scissors into the leather carrying case attached to her belt.

“Guard me and Freddie while we access the system,” Margot said.

She shut her eyes and drifted off into the GM’s abyss. Everything that surrounded her became pitch black. Although she knew herself to be standing in reality, it felt like she was laying out on a fur rug. The plush sensation tickled her through the fabric of her clothes.

She pretty much had her mind made up on where she wanted to allocate her points. Before she finalized her decision, however, she decided to launch into the Skills selection menu. The dark ceiling that probably wasn’t an actual ceiling at all filled up with bright blue lines and points that stretched onwards and upwards, like a magnificent tree.

Going into the upcoming Stronghold fight, Margot knew that she and Freddie were missing ranged attacks. The best she could do was procure a slingshot and some rocks, but those things were more difficult to use than they looked. She was likely to make a costly fumble at a critical moment. It wasn’t like Margot grew up shooting rocks all the time for fun.

A ranged attack… That would require more Poise, right? Or would that be Psi?

[SYSTEM: Would you like to view a skill from the Psi Beam track?]

Margot supposed she would. The details appeared before her.

[SKILL: Psionic Beam: Fire a beam of Psionic energy at the opponent. This works within a range dependent on skill level. Intensity increases at higher levels. Usage requires adequate Psyche.

Type: Active/Tamer

Primary Reliance: Offensive Psi, Offensive Poise

Prerequisite: 5 Offensive Psi

Cost: 3 SP]

Margot didn’t meet the requirement. Not that she wanted to dabble that far into Psionic skills in the first place, but it was a little disappointing to be rejected out-right for a skill. Out of curiosity, she wondered what kind of Psionic abilities she could use, if she really wanted to. What would be best suited to her at this time?

The system displayed a suggestion for her.

[SKILL: Hypnogenesis: Induces target into Sleep state by skin and eye contact. Effect ends when target is touched. At higher levels, the speed of induction is increased. Drains Psyche while effect is active.

Type: Active/Tamer

Primary Reliance: Neutral Psi

Prerequisite: None

Cost: 3 SP]

Margot shook her head. That wasn’t gonna be helpful. She needed something else, something for Freddie specifically. Buying him a Flight skill crossed her mind briefly, but that wouldn’t help since their fighting would take place indoors. There wouldn’t be much room for him to fly.

The GM displayed more skills for Margot to consider.

[SKILL: Poison Breath: Generates a visible toxikinetic energy-infused stream of air. Deals damage and inflicts Poisoned effect. Length of affliction and amount of damage dealt is dependent on skill level. Uses Psyche.

Type: Active/Companion

Primary Reliance: Offensive Psi, Offensive Poise

Prerequisite: Tamer (Wyvern Specialty)

Cost: 3 SP]

[SKILL: Poisonous Vapors: Emits a smog of toxic fumes that will cause a Poisoned effect to anyone who inhales it. Smog will decrease visibility in the affected area. At higher levels, potency is increased. Uses Psyche.

Type: Active/Companion

Primary Reliance: Offensive Psi

Prerequisite: Tamer (Wyvern Specialty)

Cost: 3 SP]

[SKILL: Venomous Sting: A stinger enhancement for a wyvern Companion. Will allow the wyvern Companion to inject venom into its stinger strikes. Uses Psyche.

Type: Active/Companion

Primary Reliance: Offensive Power, Offensive Psi

Prerequisite: Tamer (Wyvern Specialty)

Cost: 3 SP]

Margot selected the Poison Breath skill, and decided to keep the other ones in mind for later. Thinking about the values the skill primarily drew from, she chose to divide her three points into 1 for Offensive Psi, 1 for Offensive Poise, and 1 for Defensive Poise.

She disconnected from the server space.

Margot found the words strange. For whatever reason, ‘server space’ had popped into her mind, like that was the most appropriate description for the abyss she had just floated in. The closest thing to a ‘server space’ she’d ever seen was in restaurants, as in the counter spaces from which servers picked up food.

Somehow, during her time away, Margot had sunk to the ground. Lucille stood watch. As soon as she noticed her sister stirring, Lucille walked over. Margot reached out for Freddie, who was curled up on her chest like a puppy dog.

“Did I have another seizure?” Margot asked.

“Nope. This time you pretty much collapsed and just laid there,” Lucille said. “I caught you before you fell, by the way. You owe me an apple fritter.”

“Thanks.” Margot scratched the top of Freddie’s head. He leaned in to the touch, his lips upturned in delight. “Damn, I just remembered we forgot to make Freddie a vest, too.”

“I knew we were forgetting something,” Lucille said.

“I’ll stop by the workshop after this.”

“But it’s the night before the big day. You should get some rest.”

“It won’t take me that long to make it.” Margot sat up, careful not to disturb Freddie too much. He snuggled against her. She rubbed his back, and he hissed. “What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He continued to hiss. Margot leaned back to take a look at him.

That’s when she realized the hissing sound wasn’t coming from him. It was coming from the creature to her left.

It was covered in fur, save for the pale scales that lined its belly. Long and serpentine, the snake bared its fangs as it reared up to prepare its strike. Margot had to crane her neck to look up at it.

“Watch out!” Margot clutched Freddie and rolled over to cover him with her body.

The snake missed them by inches, it head darting right where she and Freddie once were. Margot continued her rolling until they had more distance from the snake creature. Freddie leapt out of her grasp as soon as he was able to, and Margot got on her feet.

“Where’s my pan lid?” Margot asked. Her shield had gone missing.

Lucille grabbed it from the ground. “Got it.”

The snake didn’t give them any more time to talk. It slithered fast, heading straight for Lucille. Lucille dove to get out of the way and landed chest-first on the ground.

That only made her an easier target. She scrambled to get back up.

Too slow.

The snake struck. Its fangs pierced into her leg. Lucille smashed the pan lid into the snake, trying her best to make it let go.

Scissors drawn, Margot ran for the snake. It released Lucille before Margot could get a chance to stab it. It whipped itself away, and then went on the move. Margot attempted to hit it as it escaped her range, but her vision suddenly tilted.

She hit the ground, and then came to the sharp realization that the snake had wrapped its tail around her ankle.

It dragged her along. Margot kicked at it, but the snake wouldn’t let go. Her hand scrambled for something to hold onto, anything that would stop the snake from taking her away.

Lucille screamed her name.

The snake tightened its grip. Margot flailed for freedom.

It came in the form of a young wyvern’s Poison Breath attack. A vivid green stream shot from Freddie’s mouth and pelted the snake. The snake screeched as Freddie fired attack after attack after attack.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Psyche is at 65%. Caution is advised.

Warning! Psyche is at 60%. Caution is advised.]

Margot sat up and thrust the scissor blades into the snake’s tail. She didn’t stop hitting it until she was sure it was dead.

By the time Lucille made her way over to Margot and Freddie, the Tamer and Companion duo had already finished off the snake beast.

“Freddie can breathe weird green fire?” Lucille asked.

Margot wished she had a tooth brush with her. An odd taste coated the inside of her mouth, like a sick layer of film.

“Not fire. It’s poison.”

Freddie wobbled his way over to Margot. He pushed his forehead softly against her ankle. She figured that that was his way of asking her if she was okay.

“Don’t worry, little guy. I’m fine,” she said to him. She was less worried about herself than she was about those system messages that started appearing.

Why did his attack come with a cautionary warning? Was it just because the GM wanted them to vary up their attacks or was it because something worse than running out of Psi happened when their Psyche reached 0%?

A 0% Shell meant death. Perhaps, 0% Psyche led to the same fate.

It was strange. As far as she could tell, Psyche seemed to regenerate on its own, albeit slowly. Was that some kind of failsafe so no one would get to 0% unless they were messing up badly? Margot wondered if there were any hints about that inside of her mother’s notebook.

She had been savoring the book, only reading a single page on the rare nights where she didn’t go straight to sleep. Doing that allowed the experience to last longer. Because of how long-winded Judith was as a writer, Margot hadn’t gotten that far into Judith’s life story.

Judith could take a spoon and describe it in such intricate detail that you would think that she was talking about the workmanship of a train, when she was only talking about a simple piece of cutlery. Details on details on details.

Margot imagined Judith as a difficult conversationalist. Judith was probably the type to get too caught up on the little things. She struck Margot as a bit of an awkward person, actually. A great adventurer, but someone entirely lacking in the social department. Her passions had stunted her in that way.

Had she been anyone but her mother, Margot would’ve thought her to be stiff. Margot had met plenty of people like that before in Patchwork Town, people who weren’t anything but their careers. Every tic that they had, every simile or metaphor they relied on, every conversation topic they could pull out of the air, and even their fashion choices related back to their jobs.

It wasn’t like Margot was immune from that fault, either. The first thing she noticed about people were their shoes. Shoes were sometimes a better window to the soul than eyes were.

And Judith’s shoes had to be plain, robust, and highly durable. She’d wear a lighter form of leather. Flexibility would be important in her line of work. The design wouldn’t be flashy in the least bit, something similar to a Crouchenheimer or a Darrington shoe. Expensive, refined, and understated. And kind of old-fashioned—no offense to Crouchenheimer and Darrington, but it felt like they hadn’t updated their styles in decades. Even Hyland shoes had upgraded their looks over the years, and they weren’t on the same national scale like those other companies were.

“Man, with that poison attack thing, there’s no way we’re gonna lose in the Stronghold,” Lucille said. “We can definitely beat the first floor and then those Psionic jerks will help us take care of the rest. This is gonna be easy.”

Margot eyed the way that her sister was covering up her leg wound. The snake’s fangs had cut through her pants all the way to the skin. Margot spotted blood between Lucille’s fingers.

“It’s okay if you don’t come along. I’d understand,” Margot said.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know… I was just saying that in case you changed your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I may not be as special as you, but I can do this. I’m better than when I started.”

Margot had to bite her lip to keep from saying anything that she knew would damage Lucille’s pride. It wasn’t like she didn’t want Lucille with her at all during the Stronghold fight.

It was just…

The enemies in the Stronghold were going to be tougher than the ones they faced in this forest. Worse things than horned rabbits and fur-covered snakes and weird slugs were waiting for them in the Stronghold, or so Margot assumed. It wouldn’t be as easy as Lucille thought.

“Alright,” Margot said. She forced on a smile.

She would have less of a reason to worry if she had made it to Level 4. Hopefully, Level 3 would be good enough to keep Lucille and Freddie safe in the Stronghold.

All she could really do was try her best.

Chapter 9

Margot, Lucille, and Freddie met with the Psionics at the agreed-upon place early on the Raid Day, hours before the expected wave of monsters flooded into their town. Delwen and her guildmates were wearing their usual attire of robes and belts randomly buckled to their clothing. The belts served no purpose besides adding a nonsensical flair.

“Oh, good, I’m glad you two showed up,” the ghostly man said, revealing his pearly white teeth in an unsettling grin.

“I like your choice of weaponry. Very…unique,” the redheaded boy said, sounding as saccharine as a grandmother struggling to compliment her grandchild.

Freddie was hidden inside of Margot’s backpack. Either the Psionics were ignoring his presence or they truly couldn’t tell that he was there. Revealing him too soon would ruin the surprise. Margot looked forward to the shock that would be on their faces once they realized she was no ordinary NPC.

Delwen stifled a yawn.

“Long night?” Margot asked.

“Something like that,” Delwen said.

“We should get going now. It’s quite the long walk,” the pale man said. “Since I imagine that we will be working together on that tower, I would be remiss not to introduce myself properly to you girls. My name is Wolfgang Smithdale. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” He bowed at the waist.

The redhead gave them a smile that brought his dimples out onto his freckled cheeks. “Arthur Scout.”

The guy with the itchy beard stopped scratching himself long enough to say, “Hank Cryer. I’m a master at puzzle solving and an expert on monster wrangling. Nice to meet you.” He went back to raking his fingers through his beard as soon as he was done talking.

Delwen Adair didn’t bother introducing herself. She didn’t need to.

And although Margot figured she and her sister didn’t need to introduce themselves either, she decided to do it anyway for politeness’ sake. “I’m Margot Hyland and this is my sister Lucille Hyland.”

“Are you ladies ready to defeat the Stronghold with nothing more than a skillet and a pan lid?” Wolfgang asked.

“I’m not only using this pan lid,” Margot said. “I’ve got scissors, too.”

Arthur nodded. “That’s right. We are looking at the saviors of Patchwork Town. Those Stronghold monsters won’t know what hit them! A pan lid and scissors!”

Margot didn’t quite like the tone that Arthur was using, but she set her dislike aside.

“You better make good on our deal,” Margot warned them.

“You have our word,” Wolfgang said. “If you and your sister can clear the first floor of the Stronghold, we’ll assist you in defeating and taking down the rest of the levels.”

“The offer is only good for today,” Delwen clarified.

“That’s right. You can trust us on the name of our guild,” Wolfgang said. He held up two fingers in a promissory salute.

Lucille tilted her head in confusion. “And the name of that guild is…?”

“The Dark Winds of the Storm,” he replied.

Lucille twisted her lips. Margot patted her shoulder to help distract her from bursting out into laughter. That certainly wasn’t one of the worst guild names they’d heard of, but it was definitely up there, alright.

“How did you guys get a name like that?” Lucille asked, somehow managing to hold it together.

“It’s a long story,” Delwen said, sounding displeased at the thought of it.

Arthur piped up. “I’ll tell you all about it on our way to the Stronghold. It’s a good one!”

“It’s terrible,” Delwen said.

“Terribly amazing,” Arthur said.

“No, it’s not.”

Delwen’s sentiments were put to the test as the group made their way along a dirt trail to the Stronghold. Never having much of a reason to, Margot had never traveled this far outside of Patchwork Town before. Signs pointed them in the right direction, but the Psionics didn’t stop to even glance at them.

It surprised Margot to see the grass so well-kept in an area that wasn’t actively watched by anyone. She supposed it was possible that the GM had landscaped the area to only support evergreen grass that only grew to a particular height. Not a single blade was out of place or discolored, as if someone had painted the fields with a loving hand.

Arthur’s story faded into the background as Margot took in her surroundings. In the distance she could see a herd of four-legged animals grazing for food. Although they were muscular, they were also round and balloon-like. They looked like they were what would happen if someone inflated a bull and decided, “Hey, that looks normal. Let’s stop right here.”

Patchwork Town had its share of animals, but they were so normal in comparison to the medley of odd monsters she’d been encountering lately. Everything outside of town was so fantastical and new. Even the deadly beasts in the forest were awe-inspiring in their own ways. Far-removed from combat, she could appreciate that about them.

How many Non-Psionics in Patchwork Town had gotten to see a rabbit with antlers and, better yet, fought one without dying? Who among them was brave enough to travel the path to the Stronghold? She imagined that she and Lucille were in a special group, privileged to see things that the majority of the townspeople never would.

Margot’s awareness of that thrilled her. She shook, excited for what was to come once they reached the Stronghold.

“You look scared,” Delwen said. “Losing your nerve already?”

Wolfgang and itchy bearded Hank were in the midst of a conversation of their own, while Arthur was busy talking Lucille’s ear off about the origins of their guild. That left Delwen without someone to talk to, which was probably why she decided to try and get on Margot’s nerves.

Margot schooled her face into an impassive expression, a copy of the one that her father often wore.

“I’m not scared. I’m just checking out the animals. Why, are you scared?” Margot asked.

“No. I’ve been to the Stronghold before. And, unlike you, I’ve got a real weapon,” Delwen said. She tapped the handle of the sword at her waist. “I like your vest, by the way. It’s not something I would ever wear, of course, but it’s not completely atrocious. When are you going to finish making mine?”

“I’m not making you shit.”

“That’s not what your father told me the other night.”

“Wow, that’s such a playground insult that I don’t even know what to say to it. Congratulations.”

“That’s not what I meant. He approached me at the tavern and apologized for the two of you being unable to make me any vests of my liking. I played along,” Delwen said. “And for future reference, there’s no world where I would be interested in him, even enough to make a playground joke about it. Your mother, on the other hand…”

“Don’t even.”

“All in good jest. You should be thankful that I decided to cover for you.”

“You didn’t have to. This doesn’t mean I owe you or anything like that,” Margot said.

“Doesn’t it? I wouldn’t mind a new vest.”

“Well, you’ll be paying for it by being my lackey when we go through the Stronghold, so how about that? You’ll get a vest if you play nice.”

Delwen smiled sweetly, but her tone was anything but. “We’ll see.”

[SYSTEM: Companion is requesting viewpoint access through the usage of the Second Sight skill. Do you accept this request? It will cost Psyche to run.]

The abruptness of the message caused her to stumble. Delwen threw her arm out in front of her to keep Margot from falling. Margot caught herself on it, clinging to Delwen so she wouldn’t land flat on her face.

Once she righted herself, Margot brushed off the front of her leather vest, like she’d planned to trip like that the whole time.

“I hope you’re not this sloppy when you go to fight,” Delwen said, devoid of any sympathy.

“I got distracted,” Margot said.

“By the mobs over there? They don’t matter. They’re a bunch of lurkers that can only move through the grass. If you see them pop their heads up, just ignore them.”

Margot doubted Delwen was referring to the balloon-like bulls. They didn’t look like they were lurking. She stared out over the fields and spotted a furry spiked creature walking along at a tortoise’s pace. It resembled a tiny bush made entirely out of thorns. When it noticed Margot trying to make eye contact, it dove behind the grass.

“Actually, I just lost my footing. Nothing distracted me,” Margot said dismissively.

“Must have been those clunky boots of yours, huh?”

“You never let go of a chance to piss me off, do you?”

“You make it too easy.”

[SYSTEM: Companion is requesting viewpoint access through the usage of the Second Sight skill. Do you accept this request? It will cost Psyche to run.]

That message again. Margot sighed.

“Hold on. My shoe came untied,” she lied. Margot knelt down. The rest of the group came to a halt, save for Arthur. He was so animatedly into his tale that he would’ve tripped over Margot if it weren’t for Hank barking at him to watch where he was going. Lucille laughed.

Margot fiddled with her boot laces. She activated the Second Sight ability, shutting her eyes as she adjusted to the splashing sensation of Freddie sharing her viewpoint. While she wanted to have as much Psyche as possible going into the fight ahead, she figured that the Second Sight skill would only take a negligible bite. Plus, she wasn’t planning on entirely relying on Freddie’s Poison Breath ability. Margot was gonna pull her weight and then some.

“Having some trouble there, Margot?” Delwen asked. “You’ve been making and un-making the same loop.”

“Whoa, what’s that over there?” Lucille pointed to the grass where a few spikey critters were gathered to stare at the group.

“Those are skitterbugs,” Arthur said. “I can tell you all about them and all of their weaknesses. I’m like an encyclopedia.”

“This guy…” Hank muttered to himself.

“I’m okay. No trouble here.” Margot would have to thank Lucille later for providing that moment of distraction. It gave her additional time to catch her breath. “All done. We can get moving now.”

Delwen didn’t look entirely convinced that there was nothing wrong with Margot, but since everyone started walking again, Margot decided she was pretty much in the clear. Just in case she wasn’t, though, Margot pointed out some things she saw along the horizon to keep Delwen from dwelling on her behavior.

Although they were too far away for Margot to make out the details, the structures resembled great windmills. They scraped the sky, their fans spinning on a nice and slow and constant rotation. A fog blanketed them in a shroud that further obscured their appearance.

“Do you know what town those are attached to? Since you’re such a well-traveled adventurer and all, if anyone would know, it would be you,” Margot said. She couldn’t resist verbally poking at Delwen.

“Those are routers. They help extend the reach of the Great Mother’s networking system,” Delwen said, “or they could be Psionic temples, where people’s prayers help drum up energy for the entire valley. It depends on who you ask.”

“She needs a router to reach people?”

“Some people might say that, sure. And a lot of other people would say that’s unquestionably false. The GM is infallible, after all. She doesn’t have weaknesses. So, those routers are probably just temples, like I said, or they’re offerings to the GM. It’s not like anyone knows who made them and for what purpose.”

It irked Margot that Delwen was feeding her speculation after speculation. Was she doing that because she didn’t know the truth, either, or was she trying to get on her nerves?

“They’re like giant shrine towers, then?” Margot asked, hoping for better clarity.

“You can say that. I’ve never had the gall to try to reach one. They’re for the most devout to visit.” Delwen smirked. “Don’t get any ideas about going to see one yourself. Not even I’m worthy of that. An NPC like you shouldn’t bother dreaming of it.”

“Once I take down this Stronghold, you can take me to the tower right over there.” Margot gestured to a random one.

“Your enthusiasm is admirable,” Delwen said, her inflection making it obvious she didn’t actually think so. “I’ll roll out the red carpet for you and take you right there myself. I look forward to it.” She laughed behind her hand.

“Laugh all you want now. Just make sure you wear something better than those clown shoes when you take me.”

“As long as you’re not wearing a frock like that, I gladly will.”

Wolfgang interrupted their conversation. He announced loudly, “We’re almost there.”

Lucille looked relieved that Wolfgang’s interruption got Arthur to shut up. She made a face at Margot akin to a cry for help. Margot fought not to laugh. Arthur didn’t notice a thing. He went back to jabbering away, this time focusing the conversation on some nearby town that was run by a sheriff that had a stick jammed up his butt.

The Stronghold loomed ahead. The path led directly to its door. It was massive, its walls dark and imposing. Arrows sprouted from the wooden door from top to bottom. Deep gashes at the corners marred the frame.

Margot hadn’t expected the Stronghold to look so much like a dark castle. She wondered if it had always been a Stronghold for monsters, or perhaps it had been an old king’s home. Eerily, its stone walls were cracked in several places. It had fallen into a state of disrepair. The GM usually kept everything pristine, almost sterile, but this Stronghold was an exception.

An unblinking giant eyeball, yellow where it should’ve been white, peered down at the group from above the door. As if alive, it followed their movements. Seeing that made Margot correct her earlier line of thinking. The Stronghold was probably a monster in and of itself.

That meant that it probably did have a Core, a heart or brain of its own.

A few people milled about outside of the Stronghold. An older woman instructed a boy on how to properly set-up his archery equipment. Her patience was woefully thin. Every time the boy failed to place his arrow in the right spot, she let out a string of curses.

Near them was a guy practicing his axe swings. When he saw Margot looking at him, he tipped his wide-brimmed hat to her. “Welcome! The Raid Day’s not going to start for another hour. You’re early.”

Wolfgang grimaced. “You’re supposed to be in Patchwork Town. You’re not going to get any of the rewards if you defeat the monsters as soon as they pour out of the door.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing anybody any favors by camping the spawn point. You made the quest awful last week,” Arthur said.

The archer woman scowled at them. “I wasn’t here last time.”

The woman’s protégé sighed. “I told you this wasn’t where the quest marker was. Where is it?”

“Back that way,” Wolfgang said, gesturing behind him. “There’s signs leading back to Patchwork Town. The quest giver is a little blonde girl hanging around the Town Square. If you don’t talk to her first, you’re not going to get any of the bonuses.”

The man holding the axe grinned. “Thanks! Let’s go, guys.”

The woman muttered something under her breath, but she left with her companions.

“A little blonde girl?” Lucille asked. “Who? What’s her name?”

“That’s not for you to worry about,” Arthur said.

“There’s no use in you hunting her down. She doesn’t control the existence of the quest. She’s only there to hand it out,” Delwen explained. “If she ever disappeared, someone else would come along and replace her. It’s her job, and a blessed one at that.”

Margot wanted to ask more questions about the concept of quest givers in general, but Wolfgang and Hank had already opened up the door to the Stronghold. Arthur volunteered to go inside first. He withdrew his weapon, a sword with a blade as thin as a quill.

The Hylands let the Psionics lead the way. Once everyone was inside, Delwen closed the door behind them.

The interior was lined with stone bricks and grout. Margot pressed her hand to the wall. It was rough to the touch, to the point where she suspected that if she ran her hand down it she would lose a layer of skin.

It was oddly bright inside of the Stronghold. There weren’t any lamps or lanterns hanging anywhere that she could see. The light seemed to come from nowhere. Margot scanned over the lobby area.

An open doorway stood in the corner of the room. It led to a cavernous tunnel. The transition between the stone brick and the rocky walls of the cave was stark and sudden. Another door resided in the opposite corner, looking very much out of place.

It was like a slab of metal with a handle jutting out. A symbol cut into the face of the metal. The etched lines and overflow of the design reminded her of what she’d seen in the GM’s server space: a tree with dots along various points on its branches. As with the door outside, a large eyeball above held the group in its unwavering gaze.

Purple veins scattered over its yellow sclera.

“Is the…Stronghold alive?” Lucille asked what Margot had been wondering.

Margot sensed Freddie becoming ill at ease, a queasy feeling building in her throat. Something about the bulging eye was getting to him.

Wolfgang answered, “It has a Core, so I suppose it could be considered a sentient being. It interfaces with the Great Mother.”

“So someone could talk to it if they wanted to?” Lucille rocked back and forth on her heels.

“That’s not my area of expertise. You could try talking to it if you reach the top of the Stronghold. There are multiple floors here, and the first one is right through that door there. You finish off the monsters and you can go on ahead to the next floor,” Wolfgang said.

“Have you ever heard of anyone trying to Hack a Stronghold Core?”

Margot chided her. “Lucille.”

“That would be an affront to the GM if anyone ever attempted such a thing,” Wolfgang replied. If he had been disturbed by the question, he didn’t let it show on his face. “I suggest you be careful about who you ask questions like that to. There’s quite a few people out there who would love to rat you out for a meager handful of Credits.”

“Yeah, watch it, Lucille,” Margot said.

“We don’t have to watch anything. I mean, look at us, we’re about to storm the Stronghold. That’s way worse than a random question,” Lucille said.

“Any more questions before we start or are you guys going to delay us forever? The Raiders come from that tunnel. If you don’t hurry up, they’re going to roll over you,” Delwen said. She held back a yawn, covering her mouth with her hand.

Margot concentrated her mind on ending the Second Sight connection.

[SYSTEM: Second Sight is now deactivated.]

She blinked rapidly to combat the dryness from the shift.

Margot unlatched the flap of her belted carrying case, and pulled out her leather-cutting scissors. Hank eyed them with a smile that didn’t seem all that pleasant. He looked like he was on the brink of making a joke. Margot had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out a premature insult.

What he and the rest of his guild failed to realize was that they had a secret weapon, one that was small, purple, and adorable. Freddie was not to be underestimated. He was as cute as he was deadly.

Arthur opened the door for them with a gentlemanly flourish. Margot waited for the rest of the Psionics to go in first, not because she was afraid, but because she didn’t want to leave herself vulnerable to any tricks they might have planned.

The door shut on its own. The Psionic group stayed close to the door. They leaned against the wall, playing the role of audience. Arthur kept his sword out, but he was as disinterested in helping the girls as the others. They were simply there to watch until it was time to hit the Stronghold’s second floor.

And the Hyland trio would certainly give them a show to remember.

The walls of the room were smooth all the way around. There was another door at the far side of the room with a crude drawing of a staircase stenciled into it.

The Stronghold seemed straightforward enough. Clear all the monsters in one room, climb the stairs and go on to the next level where more monster fighting would have to happen. Eventually, they’d make it to the Core and the Stronghold would be no more.

The room contained two monsters. They looked like blobs of black ink, like someone had an accident with their quill pen. They moved fluidly, although they held a humanoid shape for the most part. Their golden eyes stayed fixated on the girls.

Lucille hefted her iron skillet. “I’ll take the one on the left.”

“Got it.” Margot unshouldered her backpack and knelt to the ground. “Give her backup, Freddie.” She lifted the flap.

Freddie walked out. He stretched out his wings and rolled his shoulders. Margot looked behind her to check out the Psionics’ reactions. To her delight, they were looking pretty damn shocked.

“Where’d you get that from?” Arthur exclaimed.

“Since when can NPCs have wyverns?” Hank asked. “They’re RPCs?”

“But they read as NPCs,” Wolfgang said. Somehow, he had turned paler. “Is it a real wyvern? It looks real.”

Delwen Adair stayed silent. Maybe the surprise had rendered her speechless.

Wolfgang stepped away from the wall.

Margot pointed her scissors at the guild. Feeding off of Margot’s negative energy, Freddie hissed for added effect. “You stay over there,” she commanded. “We don’t need you getting in our way. Just watch from over there and don’t do anything.”

Wolfgang held up his hands in a mock surrender pose.

“Hey, watch out for those Shadowmen!” Arthur shouted.

Margot spun around. “Let’s go.”

Lucille charged forward. She drew back her iron pan, twisting her body for added momentum, and slammed it into the inky figure’s chest. It splashed through like water. Freddie gave her an assist. He let out a great bellow of his Poison Breath attack.

Margot couldn’t watch more of their fight. Her opponent had crossed the distance between them. She raised the pan lid in her left hand and held her scissors in her right.

The Shadowman, as Arthur called it, wound back for a punch. Margot weaved to the right. The monster’s fist sailed over her shoulder.

She stabbed at its side. Her hand, scissors and all, went straight through the inkiness. The Shadowman didn’t flinch. Margot tried to pull her hand out. It wouldn’t budge. It was as if the creature had become stone around her arm, entrapping her.

Margot struggled to break free. The Shadowman stretched its hands to grab her neck. She leaned back as far as she could, but its arm span managed to reach her anyway. Its black fingers enclosed around her throat. She shoved her pan lid against the Shadowman to no avail.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Additional Shell damage occurring due to Asphyxiated effect.]

Her vision clouded at the edges. Margot kicked, punched, and did everything she could think of to get free. The Shadowman’s fingers continued to squeeze on her neck.

Air. She needed air.

Black spots dotted her sight.

She thought she heard someone shout something, but she couldn’t decipher it in her haze. It was like she was drowning in a place far away from water. Her lungs burned. Her face changed colors. Her nose threatened to bleed from the pressure.

And then, it stopped.

She could breathe.

The Shadowman shuddered, losing its grip on her. The part of its body trapping Margot liquidated. Margot collapsed to her hands and knees to swallow mouthfuls of air.

Ahead of her, the Shadowman cowered under Freddie’s onslaught of Poison Breath attacks. The blasts forced the creature backwards. It stumbled. When it hit the floor, it splashed into a puddle.

“Margot!” Lucille rushed over to be by her sister’s side. She placed a hand on Margot’s back.

“It was a cheap shot,” Margot wheezed out. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the Shadowman that Lucille and Freddie had been fighting. Like her former target, it had reverted back into a pool of black water.

“See? We did it!” Margot stood up, her voice cracking from the stress on her throat.

“Behind you, idiot,” Delwen said.

Margot whipped around. The Shadowmen rose from their puddles, as if they were emerging out of a pond. Their features were swathed in black, as featureless as their namesake. Tall and broad-shouldered, the Shadowmen stalked towards the Hyland party.

The trio took up a triangular formation, with Freddie in the front and Lucille and Margot in the back. Margot brought up her pan lid to block any ranged attacks the Shadowmen might have up their sleeves. Lucille stood steadfast, prepared for whatever was to come.

“Get them, Freddie!” Margot shouted.

Freddie shot his Poison Breath attack. It pelted the left Shadowman in the chest. It recoiled from the dead-on hit. Freddie adjusted his aim and fired at the second Shadowman. It took the hit in the leg.

The limb disintegrated. The rest of its body followed suit, shrinking back down into its puddle form.

The first Shadowman stayed on its approach. Margot didn’t take her eyes off of it as she stepped backwards. She told Lucille to do the same. Having more space would give Freddie more room to fight.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Psyche is at 45%. Caution is advised.

Warning! Psyche is at 40%. Caution is advised.]

His blasts continued to take a toll on their Psyche percentage. A colorful wave shimmered before her. Margot shook her head to clear it from her vision. The system messages continue to appear, one after the other, as Freddie expended more energy.

35%.

30%.

Something skewered through her forehead, a sharp jolt of pain. It rooted around, gnawing at her brain, her headspace, and her mind. It was far worse than the hands that had been around her neck.

Margot dropped to her knees and pounded her head against the floor to get it to stop.

“Margot, what’s wrong with you?” Lucille crouched to get to eye-level with her. She shook her by the shoulders.

The pain rattled worse from the movement. Margot cried out.

Whatever was inside of her, she had to get it out. It was piercing. Drilling. It was taking over everything. Relief would only come once it was gone.

Margot grabbed her scissors and aimed them at the source of her living nightmare.

Lucille clenched her hand around Margot’s wrist. A tug-of-war began.

When Lucille spoke she sounded far away, like her voice was coming from the far side of the room. “Help us!”

The only help Margot needed right now was to get the bug out of her head. She could feel it, its millions of legs crawling all over the interior of her skull. It wrapped itself around her brain, squeezing without reprieve. It wasn’t going to stop until she carved it out. She had to get rid of it.

Why wasn’t Lucille letting her do that?

“Let go of me,” Margot said. She should’ve been able to fight Lucille off. Those extra points in her Power skill should’ve made that easy, but whatever was happening to her sapped at her strength.

A male voice called back to Lucille. Wolfgang? Hank? The Psionics were blurring together, each one easily replaceable by the next. Pale. Beard. Redhead. “Who are we to stop you from clearing the first floor of the Stronghold?”

“Yeah, I thought we were good-for-nothings with beef jerky for shoes,” another one of the men said.

The others laughed. The sound echoed, bouncing off the walls of Margot’s mind. More jabs were made at the Hyland girls’ failure. The laughter grew.

A dark realization sunk in.

How could she and Lucille have fallen for such an obvious trick? The Psionics had never believed they would clear the first floor. They’d led them to the Stronghold to die. Margot beat her fist against the stone floor. How could they have been so stupid to trust them?

[SYSTEM: Warning! Psyche is at 5%. Psionic abilities have been locked to prevent Shell system failure. Would you like to override these settings?]

“Freddie is all out,” Margot said. The pressure hadn’t left her.

“Dammit. Get up, Margot. These guys aren’t going to help us,” Lucille said. She yelled at the crowd in the back of the room, “You guys can all go to the crows!”

That was the last thing she said before a Shadowman rammed its fist through her chest. Eyes wide, Lucille gaped at the hole-boring arm. She choked out a blood-filled gasp that bubbled on its way out.

Margot hurried to stand, gritting against the pain that still overwhelmed her head. She swiped at the monster, scissors in hand to slice it. It pulled its arm out of Lucille. Her body fell to the ground, thunk, then dematerialized.

A static fuzz blinded her for a moment.

That distraction was all the Shadowman needed. Its solid fist collided with Margot’s face. She spun to the ground from the force. Something clattered across the floor. A tooth? The room was spinning too much for her to be able to figure it out.

Every sensation was muffled from then on. It was like a thin blanket had gone over her world. Even the feeling of Freddie perching on her felt like it was happening through a wool coat.

A Shadowman picked him up.

Freddie squawked for help. Margot reached for him. The Shadowman’s foot pressed onto her hand.

The other Shadowman stood over her.

It lifted a foot over her head.

And then, it stomped down.

When Margot respawned back inside of her bedroom, Lucille and Freddie weren’t the only ones there with her.

Chapter 10

Margot Hyland wondered who among them would move first. Would it be Helena Hyland, frozen by the doorframe with a hand covering her mouth to contain the scream that was likely soon to follow? Or would it be Edgar Hyland, his face twisted in an unreadable expression?

Lucille sat up in her bed, the hole in the front of her top exposing her healed-over skin. She covered herself with her blanket. Margot had hoped that Lucille would break the silence with her usual foot-in-mouth antics, but she was probably too frazzled to do so.

Coming back to life, or rather having one’s Shell newly restored, often came with a heavy dose of disorientation. The dizziness would wear off after some time. Anyone not used to the process would usually go to sleep so their body could further repair itself as they slept. Margot learned that for Psionics, there was a loss of experience points, as well.

Freddie shrugged his shoulders, his leathery wings spanning out. He let out a yawn that showed off his fangs. It would’ve been cute under other circumstances, but, in that moment, his timing was atrocious.

Helena shrieked. Edgar moved in front of her, his body acting as a shield. He grabbed a textbook from the shelf closest to the door, and held it out like a makeshift weapon. If it came to it, Margot didn’t doubt he’d hurt Freddie.

She leaned forward slightly to huddle over her wyvern hatchling.

“Stop,” Margot said. “He’s friendly.”

“Don’t move,” Edgar said.

“No, you don’t move,” Margot warned. “Don’t come any closer.”

Freddie folded his wings against his back and propped himself up on Margot’s thigh. He let out a low hiss, his chest puffing out.

“Oh, GM, we need to find the police,” Helena said. “Great Mother, help us.”

“No!” Lucille jumped in. “He’s Margot’s. He’s her wyvern.”

The muscles in Edgar’s jaw visibly tensed as he clenched his teeth. Margot could see the motors moving in his head, and then there was that click of realization where everything just fell into place. No doubt he was thinking about the vests, the girls’ behavior lately, and the Judith incident.

All of Edgar’s shock and confusion boiled into a look Margot had seen more than a few times before.

He was never pleasant when he reached such a state. He was at his most unforgiving, his most cruel. It was when he was like this that Margot liked to imagine that he was someone else besides her father. Whoever this other man was had locked her father away, and after his brutality came to an end, her father would reemerge. They were two different entities.

“You liars,” he seethed. “You’re blasphemers! Heathens! I had Hackers under my roof this whole time. You’ll answer to the GM for this.”

“She’s not a Hacker,” Lucille said. She leapt from her bed, no longer caring about her minor amount of immodesty. “Margot’s a Psionic, like Judith. That’s why you hid the truth about her mother. You didn’t want her to find out who she really is.”

“That’s not—you have no idea, little girl. Sit back down,” Edgar said.

“Clue us in, then,” Lucille said.

“Where did you get that thing from? Is Judith here? Have you seen her?” Edgar asked.

Helena hadn’t taken her eyes off of Freddie.

Freddie snorted.

“No, we haven’t seen her,” Margot said. “Now, will you calm down? We don’t have to fight about this.”

Edgar enunciated every syllable. “Where did that monster come from?”

Lucille answered, “We found him in the woods. We were walking and talking and stuff and then, we kind of just found him.”

“You’re lying,” Edgar said.

Margot grabbed Freddie and stood up to stand beside Lucille. She cradled him in her arms, his small body full of tension. “We’re not gonna talk to you if you keep talking to us like that.”

If it hadn’t been for the events of the past two weeks, Margot wouldn’t have had the confidence to talk back to him like that. She would’ve been trembling under his gaze, clamming up, unable to say a word.

“This wyvern. These outfits. You sneaking out all the time. You…you fought in the Raid Day.” Edgar looked like he was about to pop with every conclusion he drew. He might’ve missed the mark, but he was pretty damn close. Margot had to hand it to him on that one. “You are disobeying the Great Mother. This is treason. If anyone had seen you fighting, you’d have been thrown into jail. Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m a Psionic. I can see everything. Numbers. Stats. I’ve got skills and abilities and powers like you wouldn’t believe. I’m a Wyvern Tamer, a Wyvernette like my mom,” Margot said. “It’s not treason for me to fight.”

“It is for your sister. And it might as well be for you, too. No one would believe you to be anything other than a Hacker. You might be one! This sudden change in you…” Edgar glared. “There’s a hunt going on for people like you. How could you be so stupid?”

“We weren’t being stupid,” Margot shot back. “We were trying to take down the Stronghold. No one else saw us.”

…Other than those Psionics, but their parents didn’t need to know that.

“The Stronghold?” Helena gasped.

“Yeah.” Margot hadn’t meant to blurt anything out about it, but the truth just came rushing out. “We’re taking care of it. We’re actually going out and trying to make something better of our lives because we’re sick and tired of this. Every day we get up and work and work and work some more until the damned Raid Day comes. Then we die and do it all over again.” Margot shifted Freddie in her arms. “Our lives are stuck in a loop predetermined by something we can’t even see.

“We live and die in fear of our Favor ratings and it’s time to stop that. Me and Lucille, we’re the ones that you should be thanking. You should be down on your knees and saying, ‘thank you, Margot; thank you, Lucille; thank you, Freddie, for getting off of your asses and saving Patchwork Town.’ Without us this place would keep burning to the ground.”

Lucille added, “It’s all true. Margot can see system messages. She’s like our inside man in this whole operation.”

Helena covered her face so no one would see her tears. Her sobs were painfully audible, unable to be muffled behind her hands. It baffled Margot as to why she was erupting into a fit like that. A quiet fit, but a fit all the same. Helena should have been celebrating.

“Enough. Enough with whatever games you’re playing,” Edgar said. “You will repent for this. Pray and beg for forgiveness to the Great Mother. Get on your knees.”

“We don’t need her forgiveness,” Lucille said.

Helena cried harder.

“Your Favor will suffer if you don’t,” her father tried to reason with her.

“It’s her Favor that keeps us imprisoned here. Don’t you get it? Nothing is going to change if we don’t change it.”

Edgar reached his hand back.

Margot grabbed his wrist before his slap could make its mark.

“I will fucking snap your hand off if you don’t get out of here right now,” Margot said. She squeezed his wrist to show him that she meant it.

He choked out a pained sound, trying to do his best not to let it out and failing.

Lucille stared at Margot with wide eyes full of…fear? Apprehension? Awe?

Quiet words came out between Helena’s sobs. “You’ll never respawn because of this. You’re going to get my baby killed. Please don’t kill my baby.”

Margot released Edgar’s wrist. He rubbed it as soon as he had it back.

“Okay,” he said, his eyes darting from Margot to Freddie and then to Lucille. He was dumbfounded, his mouth forming words that didn’t surface.

“You tell anyone about this and you’ll regret it,” Margot said. “That? That was me barely putting any effort in. Imagine what I can do when I really want to hurt you. Don’t you dare try me, Dad. I’ll have you on the floor in two seconds. You, too, Helena!”

“Margot,” Lucille said.

It wasn’t the time to be soft about anything. Margot knew how devout their parents were. They could easily go and tell the nearest police officer about their daughters’ transgressions. Hopefully, a harsh warning would be enough to stop their parents from doing anything stupid.

Edgar put his arm around his wife and the two of them exited the girls’ bedroom. Margot shut and locked the door behind them. She leaned her forehead against the cold wood, listening to their footsteps leave down the hallway.

“This is bad,” she said.

The blood that hadn’t faded from her clothing yet clung to Margot like a sticky paste. She swiped some of it off her vest and rubbed it between her fingers.

“Yeah, that was bad, and you made it so much worse with…with whatever you just did. What was that? What were you thinking?” Lucille asked. She strode over to their shared closet to get something more intact to wear.

“What, you wanted me to let him walk all over us? Give me a break.”

“But you took it to the next level.”

“Because he did. He almost slapped you in the face. You think I should have just sat there and let him do it? I don’t get you at all right now.”

“No, but… Did you see how scared they were? I’ve never seen them look like that. And Mom was having a full-on breakdown and you acted like you didn’t care. I eased up. You should’ve, too.”

Helena’s words swirled in Margot’s mind. You’re going to get my baby killed, she’d said. In a way, Margot ran the risk of doing that just by including Lucille along on the journey. A Non-Psionic didn’t come with the same level of protections that a Psionic did. Even strong ones like her father weren’t a match for her at her Level 3 state.

“Helena’s scared for you, that’s why she broke down like that,” Margot said.

“She doesn’t have to be.”

“Well, if you look at it from her perspective, then she has barrels and barrels of reasons to be.”

Lucille changed out of her old clothes into an outfit more suitable for their workshop. “It’s not like you believe any of those reasons, right? That’s all that matters.”

Margot placed Freddie on the bed. He laid down onto his side, his eyes meeting hers. She hesitated to answer her sister. “We should probably leave for the workshop soon. We’ve got Favor to work on regaining.”

She unlaced her leather vest and set it up on a shelf too high for Freddie to reach.

They hadn’t approached the topic of the Stronghold yet. Margot’s face burned with shame as she replayed everything that happened there. She couldn’t believe that she had been tricked so easily.

In hindsight, it was obvious that they were egging her on when they were calling her things like the Chosen One. There was no way that someone could defeat that Shadowmen room at Level 3. The Psionics probably only offered their deal to bait her into making a fool out of herself.

She spent her whole life not trusting in Psionics and on the rare occasion in which she did, she got lied to. They played into every awful image that she had of them.

To make matters worse, she’d gotten Lucille involved. It wouldn’t have been as bad if it was just her and Freddie. It wasn’t that her sister was a burden, no, that wasn’t it, but she deserved better protections than what Margot could give her.

Lucille’s death had happened partially because of Margot’s low Psyche freak out. It had distracted her. Margot let her down. It was becoming more and more apparent to Margot that something about this arrangement wasn’t working.

She’d have to make a hard decision.

***

Not a word was spoken in the workshop. The Hyland family members were too busy to talk as they worked, and Margot was relieved that no one was carrying the morning’s drama into their workplace. Margot hardly had the time to think about it.

The orders from Eloise were piling up. They’d been swamped with demands for a sold-out shoe style. Helena and Edgar were at the helm of the project. As soon as Margot and Lucille finished up what they were doing, they would switch to doing the same as their parents.

Margot reviewed her planner, then jotted down all of the things she needed to take care of before the week’s end.

One of her tasks included finishing up an ox blood-colored pair of sandals. Her family was better known for their boot making, but as shoemakers in the general sense, they were adept at making footwear of all kinds.

Margot went over to the holder where she kept her leather-cutting scissors, only to realize that they hadn’t stayed with her when she respawned. The scissors were back at the Stronghold, most likely. One of the Psionics may have picked it up for her, but she doubted that they would’ve bothered.

If they had grabbed it, they probably already sold it for scrap parts at one of Patchwork Town’s junk shops.

Conversation at the dinner table that night was kept short.

Clipped.

Lately, it felt more like this had become the new normal: the silence, the tension, and the negative spark of energy buzzing about the room. Margot knew she was to blame for it, just like all the other times the Hylands had ended up like this.

Helena asked Lucille to pass her the water jug.

Lucille managed to do it without spilling anything.

Edgar read a newspaper at the table, leafing through the pages as if he couldn’t settle on an article to read.

Margot almost wished for a confrontation to happen, something, anything to get the awkwardness to end. The air was stifling, thick with words that needed to be said. It was like everything was sitting on a knife’s edge. All that needed to happen now was for someone to strike first.

How long were they going to keep pretending like nothing happened that morning? Margot glanced at Lucille to gauge her reaction to everything that was going on.

Lucille didn’t seem as bothered. She happily munched on her Poor Quality (Margot had checked) food like it was one of the finest things that she’d ever come across. She must have gotten her steel stomach from Helena’s side of the family.

“Margot, may I speak to you as soon as you’re finished?” Helena asked.

“You’re speaking to me now,” Margot pointed out. She fidgeted in her chair.

“Alone.”

“You don’t want Dad in the room, too?” Margot asked her.

“Whether or not Edgar wants to talk to you is his choice.” Helena stopped to fork some of the roasted bird into her mouth.

The crisp formality in Helena’s voice killed Margot’s appetite.

“You guys might as well get it over with,” Margot said. “Say whatever you want to say here where we can all hear you. You’ve been waiting to do it all day, haven’t you? So just do it.”

Helena shook her head, undisturbed by Margot’s flare of agitation. “We’ll talk outside when you’re ready.”

Without Freddie around, she seemed more confident. Moving the conversation outside would prevent any possibility of Freddie joining them as Margot’s backup. It also ensured that there wouldn’t be any funny business of a violent sort. Helena wouldn’t dare bring a belt to their front porch.

Although, Margot had already stomped any possible punishments out with her threat that morning. Neither of the Hyland sisters would be getting hurt without serious consequence.

Still, Margot didn’t like the idea of leaving Lucille alone. What if they were planning something for when they were separated?

“Don’t do anything to her while I’m out there. You should be nice to her,” she said to her father.

Edgar glared at her over the edge of his newspaper. “As should you.”

“Hey, if you have something you want to say to me, then we can get it out of the way right now.” Margot was losing her patience.

“We’ve already had our conversation,” Edgar said. He turned the newspaper to its last page. “There’s nothing more for us to say to one another.”

“You’re only saying that because you just want to run away from everything, like usual,” Margot said.

“Margot,” Lucille said.

“Don’t Margot me right now. You know how Dad gets. He ignores everything that’s a bother to him or he buries it in the basement for people to find later because he refuses to deal with anything head-on.”

Margot expected to be hit for that.

Edgar remained in his seat. He folded up the newspaper and dropped it on the table next to his plate of half-finished food.

“You think of me as an evil man,” Edgar said, “but I have done nothing but protect you, and raise you, and bring you up in a good home. You have food in your belly and a roof over your head. You get disciplined for your own good. Look at what you turn into when you lack it.”

Edgar regarded Margot with cold eyes. “Has having that wyvern gone to your head? Have you forgotten that we live in a GM-fearing community? You act as though you have the upper hand here but we are still your parents and we are still the reason why you’re alive right now.”

Margot huffed. “You think all that’s enough? Just doing the bare minimum? That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“And we’ve done it damn well. We never abandoned you.”

“How could you have? I’m your daughter.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to some people and you know it. So don’t you dare paint either one of us as evil here.”

The implication felt like she was being sucker-punched.

Margot sat up from the table. “Well, it looks like you found a way to continue our conversation from this morning, after all. Good job. Helena, I’ll wait for you outside.” Margot threw her napkin down onto the table and went off to the front door.

She was too incensed to take in Lucille’s reaction or to even look in Edgar’s direction again for that matter. How dare he say something like that?

Had Judith been around, she would’ve never raised her like the Hyland parents did. According to the stories she’d written about herself, Judith was the furthest thing from evil. She might have suffered from a lack of social graces, but that didn’t make her into a bad person.

Judith hadn’t abandoned her. She was protecting her. Assuming that Margot was a Non-Psionic, Judith left her in an NPC community where she could be raised well. She had Margot’s best interests in mind, and it was probably a painful decision to make. It wasn’t like she just dropped her off in a basket on their front steps and had no problem with it after that. If that was true, Griseldis never would’ve showed up.

Margot exited their home. The chill passed over her. She clutched the sleeves of her shirt, regretting not throwing on a jacket. She watched a couple pass by on the street as she waited for Helena to show up.

The woman looked pregnant, her big belly held in her hands and her face awash with a warm glow. The man she was with pointed at different houses, making comments about them that Margot could scarcely hear. Something about backyards and trees and places for the children to play.

Margot vaguely recognized the man as a merchant who sold foreign spices and perfumes. She didn’t remember ever seeing him with a wife or partner before, but then again, lately she’d been too wrapped up in her own world to notice what was happening within the confines of Patchwork Town. It had been a long time since she’d even cracked open a shoe magazine.

Should Margot have her way, that couple’s child would grow up into a new Patchwork Town. All she needed to do was get much stronger. She needed to study, to learn all of the things that she could about the possible monsters that were out there in that Stronghold.

The Shadowmen were nothing like the forest creatures outside of town. She and Lucille had been unprepared. Patchwork Town’s training options were limited in that regard. It also didn’t help that they had to do everything in secret.

They needed to go someplace else, a place where no one knew who they were. They had to experience the world out there. Repeatedly storming the Stronghold was a possibility, but as it was, Margot knew that she couldn’t be enough help to Lucille and Freddie. They would just be dying over and over again if they went.

When she closed her eyes, she saw Lucille impaled and the way her body dropped, cold and dead. Frustration and regret boiled anew within Margot.

The church bells chimed.

The door opened, its hinges squeaking. Helena stepped out. She took her time to close the door shut with an audible click. Helena stood on the other side of the doorframe and took up a stance similar to Margot’s. Upon noticing, Margot stood up straighter, no longer wanting to lean.

“What is it that you want to talk about?” Margot asked. The heat hadn’t left her voice.

“Lucille. Her involvement with whatever vile things you have planned ends now,” Helena said. She had recovered from her early morning bout of tears.

The women stared straight ahead as they spoke to one another.

“You can’t stop us,” Margot said.

“I implore you to.”

“There’s nothing you can do or say that will change our minds. Do you want me to bring Freddie down here?”

“That’s what you call that thing?”

“He’s not a thing,” Margot seethed.

Helena crossed her arms. “I spoke to the Head Cleric, before I went to the workshop. I inquired about convents. It’s obvious that you and Lucille need reeducation. Something happened that steered you into the wrong direction, but you can be saved.”

“You’re the ones that are gonna be saved. We don’t have to live like this anymore.”

“Do you want to be executed?”

“I’m not going to be executed and I’m sure as perma-death not going to any convent. You’d have to take me there kicking and screaming, and even then, I’m just going to run away.”

They’d have to restrain her like she was some kind of criminal rather than the Savior that their town sorely needed.

“Do you want Lucille to be executed?”

“I’m not going to let you take her anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” Helena said. “I’d be sending her to a convent to protect her from you. Everything that you’re forcing her to do is against her very nature. You’re poisoning her.”

“I’m not forcing her to do anything. Did you forget the kind of person Lucille is?”

“Did you forget? I won’t let you kill her. If it weren’t for Edgar, you wouldn’t even be allowed in my house anymore. It’s not just Lucille you’re hurting by doing this. If word gets out about your treason, we could all be killed.”

“No one’s going to find out about anything if you stay out of it.”

“As long as you keep involving Lucille, then, yes, I’m staying in it.”

“You’re not going to ship us off.”

“It’s either that or you pack your bags. We can’t have you stay here anymore, not while you’re intent on forgoing everything we’ve ever taught you. You’re dangerous for all of us. What you do reflects on the rest of the family.”

Margot laughed a short and bitter laugh. “So, you’re kicking me out to protect everyone? Is that what you think? Do you really expect me to go?”

“I’m sending word to your cousins in Ambersaul. They’ll be expecting you. You can work at their sawmill until you get rid of all of these ideas in your head. They’ve helped nonbelievers before. They’ll put you back on the right path,” Helena said. “I know you’re angry, but this is for your own good. Your Favor isn’t something you should be playing around with like this. If we work quickly enough, we can recover it and you and Lucille should be okay again.”

Margot had never met her cousins (they actually weren’t related to her at all) in Ambersaul, but she had heard enough about them to have a rather good picture of them. They were woodcutters with access to top-of-the-line sawing cranks and other clockwork machinery. What helped them become so wealthy was the church that they ran. The citizens in Ambersaul lined their pockets with a ludicrous amount of donations that Margot was sure was mostly going to their industrial costs.

According to Helena, Helena’s brother had helped raise Ambersaul out of the ashes. His church maintained the villagers’ morale through the blight that had stricken their crops. He kept the community together, constantly reminding them that the GM hadn’t forsaken them. Sure enough, a rare crop grew out of the decayed soil, something precious to the Psionics. If the townspeople had left and dispersed back to their old communities, they never would’ve found it.

The sawmill’s employees mostly consisted of people going through religious rehabilitation. It was a workers therapy program. The hard, backbreaking assembly line work was meant to renew a love for the Great Mother. Margot had a feeling that there was a lot about the program that Helena was either hiding or her brother had hidden from her. She wouldn’t be surprised if Helena’s brother used force in his rehabilitative methods. Helena herself certainly wasn’t above doing such a thing.

“So it’s the convent or the sawmill?” Margot asked. “Which one is it?”

“You continue this and I’ll be sending you both to the convent. You stop, and you alone go to the sawmill. You need it.”

“Good luck getting me to go there. How about this? We’re going to leave in the middle of the night and you’re going to stay away from us. We’re going to go wherever we want to go, and then we’ll come back and take down this Stronghold. You’re going to be damn grateful about it. You’re gonna be wishing that we had done it even sooner and you’re gonna regret that you ever decided to step up to me like this.”

“Do you care so little about Lucille? How is she supposed to maintain her Favor rating if you’re forcing her along on an adventure with you? An adventure that has no true end to it? She’s not like you.”

“There’s an end to it. We need to get stronger to be able to take down the Stronghold, that’s all.” Margot tightened her hands into fists at her sides. “Are you done now or what? We’ve been talking in circles this whole time and I’m sick of it.”

“There haven’t been any circles in our conversation. I’ve been perfectly straightforward with you,” Helena said. “What’s your decision going to be, Margot?”

“Wow, I just can’t choose,” she said sarcastically. “You’ve given me so many great things to consider. Thanks, Helena!”

“Stop being selfish for once in your life and think about what I’m telling you.”

“Are you done?”

“You’re a rude little girl.”

“I said, are you done?”

“If it’s not the convent or Ambersaul, you’d best disappear tonight. Leave Lucille here if you actually care about her.”

“Are you done or not?” Margot snapped at her.

“I’m done.”

“Great, I’m going to bed. Don’t follow me.” Margot left Helena where she stood.

Helena’s words stuck to her mind as she walked back inside. Was Margot being selfish? As far as she knew, saving everyone from the Stronghold in Patchwork Town was the most selfless act that she could do. They should’ve been applauding her.

It would take time for them to understand.

Margot hoped that her sour attitude would’ve sweetened up by the time she made it into her bedroom, but, unfortunately, her bitterness stayed with her. Helena’s ultimatum didn’t sit well with her. Honestly, it made her stomach churn.

Running her thumb across her eyebrow in thought, Margot sat down on the edge of her bed.

Freddie was on the floor, busy finishing off a bowl of leftovers from the kitchen. Lucille grunted in acknowledgment of Margot having entered the room. She was spread out on her bed, her focus on the ceiling above.

“Let me guess,” Margot said, “Dad had a talk with you?”

“Yep. He wanted to talk some sense into me or something. Sounded like a whole lotta garbage to me, to be honest.”

“Helena wants to send us to a convent.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. She said that. She wants us to get all holy and regain our Favor scores or something. She talked to the Head Cleric about it,” Margot said. “Oh, and she also threatened to send me off to Ambersaul, you know, the sawmill place.”

“Dad mentioned Ambersaul to me, too. He said it might help us, if we wanted to go there. It was weird hearing him be so…compassionate about it. It was like he felt sorry for me.” Lucille sat up, her hair all messed up from laying on it.

“I didn’t get any compassion from Helena, I can tell you that. She said it’s the convent for the both of us, me going to Ambersaul alone, or me leaving without a trace tonight.”

“A convent, though? You think she actually talked to the Head Cleric about that? She might’ve said that to scare you. I mean, when did she have the time to set something like that up?”

“Before she went to work.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t ship people off to a convent on short notice. You have to get a caravan and oxen and horses and rations for everybody and you gotta hire people. She can’t whisk off to some convent like that. It doesn’t make any sense! And which convent? Where?”

Margot shrugged. “She’ll do it eventually, or rather, she’ll try. But I couldn’t go to a place like that even if I wanted to. What would I do with Freddie? They’d force me to get rid of him.”

“The same thing would happen to you in Ambersaul. We can’t go there. We should take the third option.” Lucille fixed her hair as she talked. “We could, like, go on our own adventure and then come back to face the Stronghold later. Think about it. We could come up with our own schedule, see the world in our own way, and not get screwed over by anyone because it’s only gonna be you and me and Freddie.”

Margot sucked in her bottom lip.

Unbridled determination danced in Lucille’s eyes.

“And since the Stronghold is sort of a living thing, we could even find out how to restructure it ourselves,” Lucille said.

That wild idea again?

“You’re really sure that you can Hack the Core, huh?” Margot asked.

“Definitely! I can do it. I’ll make that one of the things that we find out about on our adventure. We can do this, Margot.”

Margot didn’t want to break her sister’s heart, but…

“Maybe it’s better if you wait for me here,” Margot said. “Don’t take that the wrong way.”

Lucille winced as if she’d gotten slapped in the face. “What do you mean? What are you saying?”

“Back at the Stronghold, I couldn’t protect you.”

“That’s because the Psionics tricked us. We didn’t know what we were dealing with.”

“Yeah, and things like that can keep happening over and over again. We don’t know what’s out there. And sometimes we can barely manage the things that we do know are out there. I can’t risk your life like that.”

“You wouldn’t be risking my life—”

“I would be!” Margot cut her off. “It’s not like we can find a random workshop out on the road and have you make a bunch of shit there. You’re not gonna have resources out there like we have here. At least here, you can keep your Favor rating up. There’s no guarantees out there.”

Lucille glared. “You think I care about that? As long as I don’t die, then it won’t matter.”

“But I won’t be able to help you. You have to understand this. I want to help you and I want to be there for you, but I can’t right now. Maybe after I come back, maybe then things will be different, but right now, I can barely look after myself here.”

“This is all because I’m not a Psionic like you.” Lucille shook her head.

“That’s exactly it.”

“Then I’ll find a bunch of Hackers and become a Psiborg. That’ll level the playing field.”

“No! Are you mad? You’ll get yourself killed looking for them, and even if you found them, would you really turn yourself into an abomination like that?”

“If that’s what it would take to get you to see me as more than an NPC, then yeah. I’ll do it,” Lucille said. “I’ll get special eyes to see the grid and get myself loaded up with all of the right components. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You’ll go blind.”

“Only if things go wrong.”

“And they will. Hacking goes against the Great Mother’s teachings. She’d never approve.”

“You only follow the GM when it suits you!” Lucille shouted. “Don’t pretend to be all devout and holy now.”

“I’m looking out for you,” Margot said. “You’re an NPC, Lucille. No matter what items or armor we put on you, you’ll still be a permanent Level 1. Face it. You haven’t been improving.” Margot’s voice shook, her shoulders trembling. “I’m sorry, but Dad and Helena are right. I can’t take you with me.”

“So you’re going to pick this one time to actually listen to them? This has to be a joke. I helped you this whole time, Margot. I’ve been with you since the beginning.”

“I’m sorry you’re an NPC. You’d make the same decision for me.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ditch you,” Lucille said. “I’m sorry you’re an RPC. You’re just like the rest of the Psionics.”

“I’m not like them.”

“Oh, really? Do you hear yourself when you talk?” Lucille took in a deep breath. “I guess this is goodbye, then, twin. You’re gonna go off on some grand journey and leave me here. I should’ve known this would happen.”

Margot held back from replying.

There was no use dragging out their conversation.

She hoped that someday Lucille would understand why she had to leave without her.

Chapter 11

She left in the early hours of the morning while her sister and parents still slept.

Margot knew that she was making the best decision for both her and Lucille, but that didn’t help her feel any less rotten about it.

That look on Lucille’s face.

Her disappointment had been palpable.

What else was Margot supposed to do? Taking Lucille along would have been cruel in and of itself. She had to be rational and keep a level head for the both of them. Lucille simply couldn’t keep up. And Margot wasn’t going to put her through the stress of whatever journey they were supposed to go on.

Then, there were also their parents’ threats looming over their heads. By leaving without Lucille, Margot was doing her a favor. They wouldn’t send her away if her most corrupting influence was gone.

Margot kept Freddie in her backpack. She didn’t want to cause a commotion throughout the town on her way out. As soon as she was able to hit the forest, she planned on releasing him. Until then, she had to deal with carrying an oversized handbag stuffed with an extra shirt and pants, some canned goods she’d bought from the general store, two changes of underwear, the pan lid, and a spare pair of moccasins.

Her shoulder ached from the weight of her inventory. Margot stuffed her bag to the brim as much as she could, remembering that everything she’d stacked inside of it would have to be transferred over to her backpack.

She picked up a new pair of scissors from the workshop, along with an awl that could serve as a decent backup weapon. Ideally, she’d buy a whole new set of weapons when she reached the next town. Even though she counted as a Psionic, everyone in Patchwork Town knew her as an NPC. With the recent fervor about Hackers, she wanted their assumptions to stay that way.

The scissors and awl were placed in carrying cases attached to her belt. Her feet were clad in thick leather boots that she’d worked on herself. The leather pouch she used for carrying potions remained empty. Renier Van James’ store hadn’t been opened when she went by, so she couldn’t stock up on more.

Also inside of her bag were her mother’s notebook, a quill, a small jar of ink, and a few ripped-out pages from a random book. Judith’s words would be her guide on her journey ahead. By the time Margot returned back home, she planned on being close to Judith’s level.

There was little doubt in Margot’s mind that present day Judith would be double, if not triple the level she was when she wrote about herself. Margot settled for aiming for Level 20.

Margot was nearing the fence that separated the wild woods from Patchwork Town when someone whistled for her attention. She turned to see who it was, and then turned right back around.

“My, my, that’s no way to treat a friend,” Wolfgang, the ghostly man, said. He stood in a small crowd with the rest of his Psionic crew. They were outfitted in their usual robes and leather straps combination.

“Get out of my face,” Margot said.

Arthur, the redhead, let out a laugh. Hank patted Wolfgang on the shoulder to ease the sting of Margot’s vitriol.

Vitriol was an exaggeration, she had to admit. It wasn’t so much as vitriol as Margot not being in the mood to deal with them. Who would after the humiliation they put her through?

She placed her hand on the fence.

“Hey, can you give us a second to talk?” Delwen’s question took Margot by surprise. That was the softest and nicest she’d ever sounded since they met, like she possessed some actual humbleness and consideration for other human beings.

Shocking.

“What do you want?” Margot faced them and leaned against the fence in a pose of near nonchalance. She masked her feelings with a look of indifference.

“We didn’t know that you’re a Psionic,” Wolfgang said.

“Yeah. You shocked us pretty good with that trick,” Arthur said.

Hank itched his beard.

“So what? Would you have treated me better if you knew I was one the whole time?” Margot set her handbag down. She rubbed her wrist to soothe it. “Just get on with whatever you want to say. And if you’re planning on telling on me to the cops or whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m getting out of here.”

“It would matter to your sister,” Arthur pointed out.

“If you’re here to threaten me—”

Arthur waved his hands. “No! We’re not telling anyone about what happened in the Stronghold. And we’re not here to threaten you for something, either. What could you possibly give us, anyway?”

“Great, I’m glad that’s settled. I’ve got to get going now,” Margot said.

“Would you hold on?” Delwen asked, exasperated. “Wolfgang, talk to her.”

Wolfgang nodded. “I’ll keep this short. We’re sorry for what happened with the Stronghold. That isn’t the type of image that we want our guild to give off. We hold ourselves to higher standards than that. We simply had a lapse in judgment.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then congratulations, because you came off as a pack of assholes. Good job on that.” Margot clapped for them.

“I understand that you’re angry. Honestly, we were only trying to get back at you and we took it too far. Had we known that you were a Psionic, we wouldn’t have treated you that way.” Wolfgang clasped his hands behind his back. “We’d like to make it up to you.”

“I’m not interested,” Margot said.

“Listen to his offer first,” Arthur said.

“Listening.”

Wolfgang said, “We would like to offer you some training. While I can’t condone you wanting to take out the Stronghold in good conscience, there’s plenty of other things you can do as a Tamer. That Tamer Talent of yours is rather in demand.”

“I don’t care.”

Wolfgang looked taken aback at her snappy response. “This is a legitimate offer.”

“I really don’t care.”

“You don’t have to trust us. I understand why you don’t, but we can introduce you to people. There are other Tamers out there. Tamers are typically part of insular communities, which is why it’s remarkable that you’re out here in Patchwork Town of all places. I don’t know why you’re here, but if you want to grow in your abilities, then you should really consider our offer.”

Margot sighed.

Why wasn’t he giving up?

Arthur clicked his teeth. “I told you guys her wyvern wasn’t real. She’s a Hacker. She doesn’t want to meet any other Tamers because she isn’t a real one.”

“I’m not refusing to go along with you because I’m a Hacker. I’m refusing to go along with you because you guys are garbage,” Margot said.

“Her wyvern’s real. A cybernetic wyvern wouldn’t share its pain with her likes hers did,” Delwen explained. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Look, Margot, I don’t know you. Frankly, I don’t care to know you, but I think you and I are more alike than you think. I had a late start on adventuring, too, and if I had a bunch of people offering me something like this, I would’ve taken the offer in a heartbeat.”

“Obviously we’re not that much alike, then. I’m not hanging out with people who screwed me over. For the last time, I’m not interested,” Margot said.

They had to have ulterior motives. Whatever trust she had once had in them—and it had been a miniscule amount—had already been obliterated.

These were the people who laughed at her suffering. They stood around and did nothing when her sister begged for their help.

Margot would never agree to following along with any of their plans.

And what did Wolfgang mean by Tamers being in demand? What was that supposed to mean? Were they going to train her up and then loan her out to whoever wanted her? Were they planning on stealing Freddie?

If that was it, why bother with the preamble? They could’ve skipped all of the chatting and just gone right into the attack phase.

“It’s a cruel world out there,” Delwen said, “and going through it by yourself makes it seem so much worse.”

“I won’t be alone. I have my wyvern.” Margot held onto the straps of her backpack.

“You know what I mean,” Delwen said. She glanced back at her guildmates. “How about you and I talk alone? I understand that it can be overwhelming having so many people talking to you at once. Like I said before, I think we’re similar in certain ways—”

“No, we’re not. I don’t need anybody else but Freddie helping me. So you guys can leave and go back to wherever you came from. You better not follow me.”

“Why don’t you stop being such a stubborn bitch?”

“Fuck off.”

“Delwen,” Wolfgang said. “Give it up. It’s her loss.”

“I don’t even know why we bothered,” Arthur said. “Everybody knew she’d say no.”

Delwen scalded Margot with her glare. Margot sent her back one that was equally as fired-up.

She didn’t bother saying goodbye. She grabbed her handbag and hoisted herself over the fence. Once she was on the other side, she unshouldered her backpack and lowered it so Freddie could waddle out of it.

Thankful to no longer be cramped up, Freddie raised and lowered his wing-arms.

Margot wasn’t going to let anybody fool her. If there was one thing she’d learned in the past couple of days, it was that Psionics weren’t to be trusted.

Herself included.

Chapter 12

Margot wanted to kick herself.

She full-on wanted to berate herself, stick her head in the nearest muddy hole, and smack a paddle against the backside of her head. Despite all of her hurried preparations for the trip, Margot had failed to bring one of the most important books for wilderness survival.

The bushcraft guide book sat on her shelf at home.

That wouldn’t have been a problem if she hadn’t miscalculated the time it would take to reach the next town. Margot had expected a day’s hike at most, but that soon proved to be more and more false as the time wore on.

Having to stop and rest for Freddie’s sake also further slowed down their travels. There was only so much walking that he could do at a time, and only so much walking she could do while carrying him.

If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve said that he was beginning to gain weight.

She counted her lucky blessings they hadn’t encountered any monsters so far. The ones they’d faced during their nighttime training sessions were most likely asleep.

Fatigue worked its way into her bones. Margot pushed on in spite of it.

“Wow, Freddie, would you look at that footprint?”

Margot placed her boot in the middle of it. The clawed animal print dwarfed her foot by a lot. As she did many times before in the past, Margot wished the Patchwork Town library had had a monster encyclopedia. A bestiary would’ve served her well.

Freddie hopped into the indentation that the animal footprint left. Had it been filled with water, Freddie would’ve been wading in a pool.

“You look so tiny,” Margot remarked.

Freddie chirped at her.

She knew eventually he wouldn’t be. Until then, she decided to enjoy being able to lift and carry him as much as she needed to.

Trees surrounded them on all sides. She didn’t dare wander off of the dirt trail path nor did she dare to look behind her as she went. Doing so would have risked confusion. Everything in the forest held a strange sense of sameness.

The same bent curves to the tree trunks, the same canopy-like overhang of the branches, and the same leaves that sprinkled specks of light through them. At night, the forest had appeared to exhibit so much more variation, but in the daytime its doppelgänger-like qualities were at the forefront.

It was then that she came to the sudden realization that she’d forgotten to bring a lantern.

“What’s wrong with me?” Margot slapped her forehead.

Freddie cringed.

“Sorry. I forgot you could feel that, too. I’ve got to be more careful. I won’t be doing that again.”

She lifted him into her arms and hugged him close. His face smooshed against the leather of her vest. He made bright, clicky sounds in the back of his throat as Margot stroked his back.

A warmth bloomed within her core.

Further along on their trek, they reached a signpost pointing them to Holliwell.

Margot knew Holliwell to be a smaller town than Patchwork Town. She’d heard that the babies in Holliwell were fed nails to toughen them up and that everybody there had some amount of steel in their veins.

Those were exaggerated stereotypes, of course, but she didn’t like what they implied. She’d never met someone from Holliwell. Her father had and he’d wasted no time in describing how rude they were.

Margot didn’t think she would mind a bit of a brusque attitude. It wasn’t like her attitude was any better. Perhaps, she would fit in there for a while, and then leave the town when she exhausted all of its quests.

The first order of business would be to find their nearest quest giver and get started on leveling up in a more productive way than just bashing monsters to death.

Freddie went ramrod straight in her arms. He struggled to get out of her grasp. No amount of soothing words or phrases would calm him down.

“What’s wrong?” Margot asked. She kneeled down and let him free.

His head pointed like an arrow towards a parting in the nearby bushes. The leaves shook as two creatures pushed their way out of it.

They were built like bear cubs. Their ears were folded down to their heads. A stripe of green ran from between their snout bridge to their tail, dividing their otherwise brown far. Long claws protruded from their paws.

Margot tensed. She suppressed her urge to run away.

Who would she be if she fled without at least trying?

She yanked her scissors out of her carrying case.

“Bring it,” she commanded.

The bear things took charge. They ran on their hind legs, their paws outstretched to slash Margot and Freddie open.

The first one went for Freddie. It swiped low. Freddie slid to avoid it. He chomped into the bear monster’s ankle. It let out a wail that would’ve had Margot covering her ears if she wasn’t in the middle of fighting the other one.

That one thrust its claws forward to pierce her in the middle.

Margot stepped out of the way, the hit skimming her arm. It sliced her sleeve. She stabbed her scissors into the beast’s shoulder.

It roared, then backhanded her with enough force to knock her off of her feet.

It pounced on her. Her weapon was embedded in its shoulder. She only had her bare hands now. Another roar from the creature, and its slobber pelted her in the face. Its musky smell clogged her nostrils.

A green blast exploded against the monster.

Its arms flailed up to defend itself from Freddie’s Poison Breath attack. That was just the distraction Margot needed.

She pulled her awl from its pouch and stuck its spike into the creature’s flank.

One final shudder, and she felt the life leave its body. Margot shoved it off of her.

By the time she had rolled up to help Freddie, he’d used his Poison Breath attack to finish off the other bear creature.

When the bodies disappeared, the Great Mother generated 20 Credits and two pointed claws as a reward. Margot scooped them up.

[SYSTEM: You have acquired a Bearlax Claw (x2).]

“I wonder how much this is worth,” Margot said.

Whenever the GM revealed random items to her before, Margot didn’t bother with picking them up. Circumstances were different now. Now, she needed to collect things and trade them to do whatever else adventurers did with their random loot pickups. Was there some weird market for these claw things?

She knocked on one of the claws, testing its durability. She doubted that it’d make for a good weapon on its own, but perhaps with some fortification and creativity, it could be used for something.

Margot shoved the claws into her backpack. She took out her pan lid and then placed her awl and scissors back into their carrying cases on her belt.

She thought about her remaining Psyche. A system message appeared.

[SYSTEM: Psyche is at 70%.]

They’d dropped down that far after only facing two monsters. Remembering what happened back at the Stronghold, Margot knew that Freddie was in need of a better strategy. Blasting Poison Breath after Poison Breath was going to land them in trouble.

“You have to get a little pickier about when you use your attacks, okay?” Margot stooped down to pet him. Sadly, the Great Mother hadn’t rewarded them with any bearlax (that’s what they were called, according to claw item) meat.

Freddie sat, his disappointment crawling into Margot’s heart.

“We’ve still got the canned food,” she reminded him. “Are you feeling hungry? Do you need to stop and eat?”

Freddie snorted.

“You understand what I said about the Breath attack stuff, right? The last time we used it too much, we got really messed up. You’ve got to be strategic about it.”

It felt weird talking to him when she knew that he couldn’t answer back with words of his own. It was almost like she was talking to herself.

As Margot lectured Freddie, she received a system notification from the Great Mother.

[SYSTEM: Would you like to disable Companion’s access to the Poison Breath skill?]

Locking him from it would obviously keep him from overusing it. His liberal usage of the skill at the moment told Margot that he may not have understood the consequences of having a low Psyche. She needed to train him and get him used to other ways of combat.

Really, she had to level up so that she could grab more skills so he wouldn’t have to rely on that one all the time.

Margot focused on accepting the message’s question.

Freddie gagged, emitting a choking-like sound.

“Sorry,” Margot said. “I don’t want us taking any risks.”

She adjusted the straps of her backpack, then picked up her wyvern hatchling.

Hardly a minute had passed when the third bearlax showed up. It crashed through the bushes, not giving a single care about the forestry it dismantled. This one was at least the size of the others put together.

Fury swirled off of it that lanced through Margot’s very soul.

“Run!”

She didn’t have anyone to say it to other than herself. Margot was already running by the time she’d said it. Her backpack jostled, the contents clattering together with every stride. She gripped Freddie tight in her arms.

She could hear the grunting of the bear, its deep breaths as it gave chase. The ground shook. The vibrations pulsed through her boots.

Margot made a beeline off of the path. She needed to lose the beast in the trees. Her lungs burned. Her breath came out in uneven gasps, her ponytail bobbing as she went.

Her sole focus was on getting her and Freddie to safety.

If she died now, she wasn’t sure where she would end up. She hadn’t had a chance to make many gains in her Favor, and she wasn’t sure if she was far away enough from her home to not be slingshot back into it if she respawned.

Once she was far enough away from her spawn point, she’d reset where she died.

If that happened, the bearlax would kill her again as soon as she woke back up.

The bearlax’s growling grew closer.

Every muscle in her body ached as she fought not to slow down.

It became louder.

Closer.

Hot breath against her neck.

Margot screamed.

The bearlax slashed at her back. Its claws caught on her backpack.

She kept moving.

Everything in her bag spilled out, the fabric torn open.

Still, Margot kept running with everything she had.

And so did the bearlax, its grunts heavy in her ears.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

The bearlax howled. It stopped coming after her.

Margot spun around. She overdid the movement, her exhaustion failing her legs. She fell backwards onto her butt. Freddie bounced in her lap.

Two arrows stuck out of the bear monster’s neck. It looked in the direction of its attacker, its fangs bared in a menacing snarl.

The bowman had a head of salt-and-pepper gray hair. His royal blue cape lifted with his arm as he drew his bow. His next arrow made its mark dead in the creature’s eye.

Margot scrambled backwards. She kept Freddie close.

A gurgle of blood, another arrow in its head, and the bear creature fell forward, finished.

Margot struggled to catch her breath. Her heart felt like it wanted to rip its way out of her chest.

Beyond the mysterious archer, she could see the trail of things that had fallen from her torn open backpack. The cans and jars of food had been crushed underfoot. Her spare clothes were smashed into the dirt.

“You alright over there?” the man asked. He sounded far older than what Margot expected. He didn’t carry himself like the elderly men back in Patchwork Town.

He appeared to be as spry as a young adult. As he walked closer to Margot and Freddie, she could see the outlines of muscles in his arms, courtesy of his sleeveless tunic. His silk pants were of an unusual fashion for their part of the country.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Margot said.

Freddie tilted his head.

“It’s not good to travel these woods alone,” he said.

“I gathered that much.” Margot brought herself up to a stand.

She wandered over to the fallen canned food to search for something that was salvageable. Remembering her manners, she shot the man a quick “thanks.” Embarrassment prevented her from saying much more than that.

“It’s not a problem, Miss. I was just passing through when I heard you scream.”

“Thanks for stopping,” she repeated.

“Sorry about your things.”

Margot rolled her shoulders. Even though she wasn’t anywhere close to feeling nonchalant about it, she wanted to come off like any other Psionic out there who was used to bumps in their adventure.

“It’s fine,” she said, “I’m pretty close to where I need to be so it’s all fine. You can get back to whatever you were doing before.”

She didn’t intend to come off as ungrateful, but she also didn’t want to be around him for much longer. His archery skills were no joke. His age implied that he must’ve been a high level Psionic.

Margot didn’t like their power disparity. She needed to prove that she could handle things on her own without a Psionic babysitting her. What would her adventure be like if he was handholding her through it?

“Do you mind if I ask you where you’re headed?” he asked.

“Holliwell. I’ve got people waiting for me there. They’re expecting me to be there soon, so… I really can’t keep them waiting.”

“That’s a far trip.”

“It is, and they’ll come looking for me if I delay myself too much. Real tough people, they are. They’d be able to kill that bearlax thing one-handed. You wouldn’t want to mess with my friends if you knew them.”

“I see.” The Psionic man glanced at Margot’s ruined things. “I’ve got food and a spare weapon back in my camp. It’s my daughter’s old dagger. She doesn’t use it anymore.”

“Is she back at your camp with you?”

“It’s just me. I’m sightseeing here for a while before setting off for the turbines.”

“The turbines are lovely at this time of year,” Margot said, playing her part as a regular Psionic. “Anyway, I thank you for the offer, but we’ve got to get going. The bearlax got the jump on us, that’s all. It could’ve happened to anyone, you know?”

“Are you sure? My camp isn’t far away.” The man gestured behind him with his thumb.

“We’re good.” Margot picked up her things and placed them into her formerly empty messenger bag. She was thankful that her mother’s notebook hadn’t gotten damaged. That was the one irreplaceable thing.

Margot wiped the dirt off of it with her sleeve.

“I wish the best of travels to you, Miss,” the man said. He bowed his head in a slow nod, then headed back to where he’d come from.

She hoped, for her and Freddie’s sake, that the man’s wish would come true.

***

Later, when the late-night chill had set in and she and Freddie had huddled up somewhere for the night, Margot doubted the man’s wish would come true.

They were experiencing the furthest thing from the best of travels.

The darkness made it too dangerous to keep going. She didn’t want to have to contend with any of the nocturnal animals that resided in the forest. The daytime bearlaxes had been bad enough.

Having never started a fire before, Margot soon learned how difficult it actually was. Rubbing two sticks together for an hour only made her hands raw and pink. The burning sensation throbbed through them.

His backpack destroyed, Freddie had a hard time staying asleep.

It didn’t help that some creature was cackling off in the distance. The night’s soundscape set Margot on edge.

She swatted a bug that landed on her arm. It stuck to her hand like glue.

They were situated against a tall rock. Nothing would be able to sneak up on them unless it came from above. It was difficult for her to see into the darkness, so she had to keep her ears open for trouble. She knew that Freddie would be able to alert her if anything went wrong, though. He was her fail-safe, as she was his.

Her stomach grumbled.

There had only been one can that hadn’t gotten smashed to bits. Inside, suspended in layers of cold syrup, were slices of a citrus fruit native to Patchwork Town.

Margot stabbed the lid with her awl repeatedly until she’d cut a circle through the tin. She used her scissors to lever it open.

Freddie popped his head up.

Margot’s stomach growled louder this time.

“You’re hungry, too? Here, we can both share.” She scooped some of the fruit out of the tin and held it in her palm for Freddie to eat.

Of course, he ignored her hand and went for the can itself.

Although she knew she should’ve been angry for him diving in like that, she couldn’t be. He was still a baby, and more importantly than that, he was her wyvern. Freddie was her priority right now. Keeping him safe and well-fed, those were the things she had to do as his Tamer.

She’d fail at keeping him warm with fire, but at least, she could keep food in his stomach.

…For now.

Maybe she should’ve risked taking that old man up on his offer.

Margot sighed.

“We’re going to have to go hunting for food eventually,” Margot said.

She popped the sticky chunks of fruit into her mouth. Margot took her time, savoring its sour flavor. She had a feeling that it was going to be a while until they could eat again.

Freddie stumbled into Margot’s lap. He shivered from the cold.

Margot bundled him up in one of her spare shirts, then rocked him to sleep as she remained on the lookout for any animals lurking nearby.

***

A night of no sleep and terrible back pain gave way to the bright morning sun.

Its beams stabbed into Margot’s already wide-awake bloodshot eyes. She cringed, her limbs stiff from the terrible position she’d been in. She’d sacrificed her own comfort in the hopes that Freddie could get some rest.

Sensing Margot stirring, Freddie leapt off of her so she could stretch.

She raised her arms over her head and bent forward. Her spine popped with minimal relief.

There was nothing glamorous about sleeping outside. Every novel she’d read had lied to her. There were bug bites all over her arms. A twig had found its way into her hair from who knows where, and her back would never forgive her for the punishment she put it through.

Now, she wished she had kept the pillow armor just so she could get a better night’s sleep.

Not like any of that would’ve helped. The forest was too creepy to get any amount of shuteye in. It was like falling asleep in a room of steel dagger chandeliers, each one dangling on rusted-through chains. And on top of that, there were gusts of wind in the room pushing on the chandeliers.

They were one bad wind blast from falling.

No matter how the metaphor was cut and packaged, it was a bad situation.

Margot ignored the hunger pains in her stomach as she got ready to go. She laced her boots and rearranged her things in her satchel so they wouldn’t press against her hip as she walked.

“Sorry about your backpack,” Margot said. “I’m either gonna have to carry you or you’re gonna have to walk on your own.”

She kind of wished that she had gotten him that Flight skill after all.

Margot concentrated on her statistics menu, knowing that her XP had dropped from her death back at the Stronghold.

[Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 3

XP: 40/256

Credits: 15

Shell: 96%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 3

Defensive: 2

Neutral: 1

Psi

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Poise

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 2

Neutral: 1

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty): Unlocks the Tamer skill tree and grants the Tamer talent.

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Tamer to the Companion.

Second Sight: When activated, the Tamer sees through the vision of the Companion and vice versa.]

Then, she checked Freddie’s skills.

[Skills —

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Companion to the Tamer.

Venomous Bite: Leaks venom into melee bite attack. Causes Poisoned effect for a very short period of time.

Second Sight: When activated, the Companion sees through the vision of the Tamer and vice versa.

Poison Breath: Generates a visible toxikinetic energy-infused stream of air. Deals damage and inflicts Poisoned effect.]

A message appeared from the Great Mother.

[SYSTEM: Did you know that you can level up your Skills?]

Margot was somewhat aware of that based on the descriptive text she saw whenever she went to purchase her Skills. Some of the Skill descriptions had mentioned becoming better at higher levels.

“Am I supposed to put Skill Points into them or something?” Margot asked.

Her cheeks colored a deep red. Had she actually said that out loud? Talking to the GM like this and actually receiving an answer back was foreign to her. Years of prayers had gone unanswered and yet, there the Great Mother was in the form of system messages.

[SYSTEM: Techniques and strategies are honed through your experiences with the Skills. Points can be applied to strengthen them, but strength alone isn’t guaranteed for victory.]

“Why do you hate NPCs?”

Freddie bopped his head against her ankle. He leaned up on his toes.

Margot waited for the GM to say something back.

And waited…

And waited…

And waited some more.

“How many points does it take to level up Poison Breath?”

That question didn’t get an answer, either.

“Of course you’re quiet now,” Margot muttered. “Let’s get going, Freddie. I think the last sign I saw for Holliwell was somewhere that way. Or…was it that way?”

Their running away knocked them significantly off the path. Margot brought up a hand over her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun as she scanned the many trees that surrounded them. She settled on heading towards a section with less overgrowth than the others. Over there, the trees were less clustered together. The plants were more spread out.

Freddie trailed behind her. His strides were short. As soon as she realized how much trouble he was having traversing the grass, Margot scooped him up into her arms and continued on their trek. She kept her eyes on the ground, stepping over branches and rocks as she went.

Snapping a twig at the wrong moment would attract attention that they didn’t need.

She breathed in the strong smells of the wilderness. Birds trilled their morning calls. Small critters wrestled through the tree branches far above her and Freddie. The grass was strangely soft and wet in parts, and she made sure to avoid the grossest spots when she could.

Margot didn’t know if it was because she had spent most of her time looking at her feet, but for whatever reason, the route she chose seemed to stretch on forever. She’d expected to get back on the path within an hour at most, but it felt like she’d been wandering for hours.

Staying straight and direct seemed to be the safest way to go about things. But she was beginning to doubt herself. Everything in the forest looked the same. Maybe, she’d gotten turned around somewhere. Margot kept her feet planted as she surveyed their surroundings.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any tracking powers, do you?” Margot asked.

Freddie chirped at her.

She took that as a no.

Besides, what would he be tracking exactly?

They could go back to where they started, but they were just as liable to get lost trying to do that.

“It’s better than wandering aimlessly,” Margot said.

She doubled back.

Her shoulder hurt from the weight of her satchel.

Sweat dampened her shirt.

Yeah, there definitely wasn’t anything glamorous about the adventurer’s life. Knowing that didn’t shake her determination any. She’d put in her dues with the sweat and grime of the forest, and then return a self-made hero.

“Freddie, I don’t think this was the right way.”

A roar ripped across the forest, one close enough for Margot to feel it rumble.

She’d return as a self-made hero as long as she survived whatever this thing was first.

A bearlax lumbered towards them. It appeared out of the brush. It was smaller than the one that the stranger had killed for them, but larger than the ones they’d been able to kill on their own.

Freddie broke free of Margot’s arms. He landed on the ground with a forward roll.

The bearlax creature came barreling for them, its claws out to strike.

Margot tried to make a break for it, going off to the right.

She underestimated the bearlax’s reach. The tips of its claws sliced through her sleeve. It left red lines down her skin. She screamed, nearly stumbling as she continued to run.

Freddie, meanwhile, was still close to the monster. He took a leap at its leg. His teeth found purchase in the limb.

The heady taste of bile flooded Margot’s mouth.

The bearlax roared, globs of spit flinging out of its mouth. It kicked out its leg. Freddie chomped down harder so he wouldn’t be thrown off.

Margot grabbed whatever she could from the ground. Rocks. Fallen branches. Something that might have been a snail. She threw them all at the monster in the hopes that it would do some amount of damage.

The bearlax flung Freddie off. He went flying. He collided with the earth a good distance away. The phantom shock of his landing burned over Margot’s back.

The bearlax stalked towards Freddie’s fallen form.

Margot ripped her bag off of her shoulder. She took out her pan lid, twisted, and hurled it at the monster.

It smacked it in the side. The bearlax staggered.

Margot called for its attention. “Over here!”

The bearlax changed directions. Margot became its new target, its eyes glaring at her as it snarled.

That bought Freddie time. He got onto his feet and—

[SYSTEM: Warning! The Skill you are attempting to use is disabled.]

The Poison Breath attack! She forgot to re-enable it.

Margot took steps back, her hands grasping at the pouch on her belt. She took out her scissors.

The bearlax walked towards her, each step it took kicking up dirt as it went. It took its time, as if it knew the kind of slow torture it was putting Margot through.

“Activate,” she said. “Enable it!”

The next system message she saw came back as garbled text.

[SSETMY: Nnargiw! Teh Islkl you era attetingpm to eus si asdleibd.]

Pressure blanketed her skull. Margot clutched at her head to contain the intensity. It squeezed like a vice that wouldn’t let go even as she closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, her vision shimmered at the edges.

The bearlax. It was in front of her.

Margot fell back.

The bearlax’s next swipe went over her head.

She flattened out and braced herself as she rolled.

Margot didn’t get that far.

The bearlax did a downward slash that caught her back. The vest kept it from getting to her skin, but it tore through the leather. Air. She felt the breeze on her back. The creature’s drool poured out of its mouth and over her skin.

If it had torn through her armor like that, what would it do to her uncovered skin?

Margot reached out to crawl away.

Freddie screeched. The bearlax roared. Margot rolled over onto her back to see what was going on. Freddie had latched himself to the back of the bearlax’s leg and it was trying to knock him off.

Margot grabbed her scissors from where she’d dropped them.

She slammed the blades into the closest part of the bearlax she could get to.

The bearlax batted her to the ground. She’d been fortunate not to get hit by its claws.

“Re-enable the fucking attack,” Margot wheezed.

[SYSTEM: The Poison Breath Skill has been re-enabled.]

The bearlax kicked its leg back. Freddie let go. He went soaring. Bellows of his Poison Breath attack streamed from his mouth. Although most of the shots went wild, some of them hit home. The bearlax threw up its arms in vain.

Margot dug a rock out of the dirt. It was hefty in her hand. That was about as much thought she gave to it before she threw it at the bearlax.

The bearlax whipped its head in her direction.

Freddie got back on his feet.

“Kill it!” Margot shouted.

He unleashed a blast of Poison Breath. The bearlax roared from the hit.

Margot scrambled to find things she could to throw at the beast. She tossed them as soon as she found them, pelting the creature as Freddie overwhelmed it with Poison Breath attacks.

At last, the bearlax fell to its knees, then dropped forward.

Its eyes were devoid of life.

Margot swallowed gulps of air into her burning lungs.

[SYSTEM: Congratulations! You have gained 100 XP!]

“That’s all that was?” Margot laid out on her back. Her chest heaved with every breath.

Freddie waddled over to her. He placed his head on her stomach, huffing in puffs of his own.

When the bearlax’s body disappeared, the GM replaced it with two hunks of bearlax meat and a bunch of Credits. Hadn’t their effort been worth more than that?

As much as they deserved to take a break, they were too in the open. What they needed to do was keep moving. They had to find Holliwell before nightfall.

Failing that, Margot would’ve settled for finding the correct path. Even that would be better than nothing.

Freddie left to eat their latest food haul. She noticed a pronounced limp in his movements. That was probably thanks to the bearlax throwing him so many times. Margot winced. She wasn’t going to be in for a good time when she started walking again. She would feel that limp and more.

This could’ve all been avoided if she’d trusted him to control himself. Disabling his Poison Breath attack hadn’t helped them any.

“I’m sorry for letting you down,” Margot said.

She couldn’t let that happen again.

In fact, she promised him that she’d never let him down again.

But some promises are harder to keep than others.

Chapter 13

The road to Holliwell was paved with hardships in the form of bearlax creatures and uncomfortable ground, but, finally, Margot and Freddie made it to the town. By the time she had her feet inside of Holliwell, she was ready to pass out.

Holliwell looked as if someone had cut a square out of the forest, mowed it down, and decided to plant a town in the middle of it. It was barren in its center, its buildings set up on the edge of a wide expanse. They faced one another from either side of the empty lane.

Perhaps, the townspeople had plans for a fountain or something else like that.

These people had steel in their veins, didn’t they? Maybe they didn’t care about fountains or the beautification of their town.

The town was enclosed within a set of stonewalls. No one had greeted her at the wooden gate when she entered.

A woman balancing a jug of water passed by Margot. Her clothes were old-fashioned, her skirt all the way down to her ankles. She carried her jug to a small group of people gathered around what Margot guessed was a water pump. She’d never seen one in person before. She’d only read about them in books. Patchwork Town had a piped system for its water.

There was a man sitting on the porch of the building closest to Margot. When he smiled, he revealed a mouth missing front teeth. Margot held in her gasp.

The Great Mother didn’t make imperfect people like that. A red potion would solve his issue.

Margot thought back to the time when she’d lost a tooth fighting a bunch of monsters. Her teeth had been restored, good as new.

What was wrong with that guy? Why was he smiling so much? Was he allergic to red potions or was there some other underlying reason for his disability? Even a respawn should’ve been enough to fix the errors in his Shell.

“How did you get in here?” A voice from her left said. It belonged to someone who was maybe ten years her senior, a guy with blonde and copper hair that tangled about his shoulders.

“The gate was open,” Margot said.

Freddie sat at her feet, looking up at their conversation.

“That’s the second time this month, George,” he said, turning to an older man who was hiding behind him. Margot hadn’t noticed the second guy until the first one spoke to him.

“I didn’t leave the gate open! She must’ve snuck her way in,” George said.

Margot wasn’t having that. “That gate was wide open and you know it.”

“Sheriff Barley’s going to have your head,” the copper-haired man said. He and George were wearing matching uniforms. They had badges pinned to their lapels, along with kneepads and elbow pads. They were covered from the chin down in material, not an ounce of their skin showing otherwise.

Their silver navy color scheme hinted at their town’s colors. The banner hanging near the entrance confirmed Margot’s suspicions. A bull’s head rested in the center of their town’s flag.

“Him having my head is why he’s not going to know about this,” George said. He held out his hand. “Your identification, please, ma’am?”

Margot made a show of patting her pockets and then rummaging through her bag. “Oh, no, I must have dropped it in the forest.”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Everywhere and nowhere. I’m an adventurer,” she replied.

“Typical,” the copper-haired guy said.

“Identification code number, then?” George asked.

“What do you need that for?” Margot asked.

“You don’t have your identification card, so we need to identify you some way.” George crossed his arms.

“Margot Hyland,” she replied. “That’s my name. I just rolled in from Patchwork Town. That should cover it, right?”

George placed his hands on his hips. “Serial number, or else, I’m going to be forced to take you in. We’re also going to need you to sign into our guestbook.”

“And you’re going to need this bracelet, too.” The man with the copper hair took a strip of paper out of his pocket. “Your wrist, ma’am.”

She complied. He wrapped the paper around her wrist and closed it tight at the ends with sticky glue.

Margot concentrated on her serial number.

[SYSTEM: Your serial number is 724-661-204-596.]

“It’s 835-999-123-678,” Margot said.

Of course, she gave them the incorrect one. If worst came to worst, she would pretend that she made a mistake or that they made a mistake. First, she needed to know what exactly they were going to do with the numbers.

The guardsman led her back to the gate. There was a booth there where the guestbook resided. It was open to the middle, its pages filled with the signatures of the Psionics that had come to Holliwell before her.

After that, she asked the guardsmen where the quest givers were. They told her that quests were managed at the tavern. George also added that she could get a change of clothes at Mabel’s. She’d forgotten how ripped her sleeves had gotten.

She didn’t want to think about how badly she must’ve stunk.

Margot thanked the guards for their help, and with Freddie in her arms, she set off for the tavern.

Resting had helped lessen the limp in her gait. Her clothes were a mess, but she walked into the tavern with her head held high. Her appearance was proof that she was a fighter, someone who was a real adventurer well on her way.

Holliwell’s tavern was less boisterous than she expected. The ones in Patchwork Town were practically wall-to-wall with people buzzed from good drinks and better conversations. This one, on the other hand, felt woefully empty.

A bartender buffed her wet rag into the countertop. Her hair was a shocking shade of pink, something that Margot didn’t think was possible. That couldn’t be natural, could it? She knew people dyed their hair sometimes, but no one in Patchwork Town would’ve changed their hair color into something so gaudy.

In contrast to her hair, the woman’s clothing was far less flamboyant. She wore a high collared long-sleeved shirt buttoned all the way to the top.

A balding man sat at the bar. He was nursing an amber liquid. In the back of the tavern, two people were in the middle of a quiet game of cards. One of them had a bowl of nuts at his elbow. The broken shells littered the floor around them.

Margot’s boots crunched on some as she strode to the back of the tavern. There, in full glory, was a wooden board with pieces of paper stuck all over it. Each one contained a request for help. Taking on a quest would allow her to have an easier time of leveling up with the added bonus of better rewards.

She looked forward to not having to depend on the Great Mother’s mercy for loot pick-ups.

Margot scanned over the posters tacked to the wall.

Kill 10 creatures. Find someone’s lost medallion. Collect materials and patch someone’s spotty roof. Dress up like a maid and accompany someone into the forest. Pretend to be someone’s date to an upcoming festival dance. Weed somebody’s garden. Collect five bearlax claws.

Margot ripped down the last one and gave it a read-through.

[Quest available!

Name: Marigold Brown

Request: 5 Bearlax Claws

Notes: Must be mature claws. Cannot be broken. I will be inspecting for quality.

Reward: 500 Credits, Bone-handle Dagger]

She already had two of them. Hopefully, they counted as mature enough. If so, three more of them shouldn’t be too terrible. As soon as she replaced her equipment at a weapons and armor store, she wouldn’t have any more problems fighting those bearlax things. The scissors and pan lid were holding her back.

Freddie waddled after her as she approached to the bartender’s counter. Margot placed the quest paper before the pink-haired woman.

“Hey, are you the quest giver?” Margot asked.

“Sure am. Are you turning in a quest for someone to take?” The woman set aside her rag. Rows of bottles stood on the shelves behind her.

“Actually, I’m here to take this one.” Margot tapped it.

The pink-haired bartender looked Margot up and down. She squinted her eyes. “What level are you?”

“Three.”

“Did you read the fine print? This is a quest about bearlaxes.”

“I killed a bunch of them already.”

“And been killed by them a bunch of times, too, I bet. I’m not letting you sign up for this quest. That’d be a waste of Credits,” the bartender said. “You should do something more your speed, like…hosing down one of the horses.”

“I’m not doing that. I’m here to fight,” Margot said. “And for your information, none of the bearlaxes killed me. I survived.”

The patron at the bar snickered. Margot shot him a glare.

“What’s so funny?” Margot asked him.

He raised his glass to her.

“Go back to the pin board and find yourself a quest you can actually handle,” the bartender said. “I don’t think we have a whole lot for Level 3s specifically, but you might find something if you’re lucky. In the meantime, I can fix you something to drink if you’d like.” She gestured to the drinks display behind her.

“No, thanks. I’m going to do this quest.” Margot read over the piece of paper. “Are you Marigold Brown?”

“I’m the middleman. Think of me as the manager of quests in this town,” the bartender said.

“Well, tell me where I’m supposed to find Marigold Brown and I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Level 3 and I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t like yours, either.” Margot snatched the quest paper away before the bartender could. “I’m finding her myself, then.”

The bartender shook her head. “Without my stamp of approval, you’re not going to get any bonus rewards for the quest. It’s not going to be activated. Have you never been to town with this kind of middleman service before?”

Margot growled in frustration. “So, you’re just not going to let me do anything, are you?”

“Would you if you were me? Look at you. You walk in here with a ripped up shirt, a baby dragon, and no weapons at all. And then you demand to do some random quest that’s way too big for your britches. I’m doing you a favor, ma’am.”

Margot took out her scissors. “I’ve got a weapon right here.”

The man sitting at the bar failed to contain his laughter this time.

“Those are scissors,” the bartender said.

“Yeah, and I’ve killed plenty of monsters with them,” Margot said. “It’s not that funny.”

“Those are scissors,” the bartender repeated.

Margot stabbed the quest paper back down onto the counter. “Whatever! You can keep your damn quest then.”

Her scissors left a hole in the paper when she lifted them away.

“And you can get out of my tavern.”

The bartender didn’t have to say that twice. Margot slid her scissors away and stomped her way out of the tavern. Fighting and getting into an argument with the woman wouldn’t get Margot anywhere. She’d have to hope that later the bartender would have a major personality adjustment.

She decided to try again another day.

Freddie stayed at Margot’s heels, stomping to copy her. He chirped something that sounded a lot like the bitter string of curses that Margot wanted to let loose. The pronunciation wasn’t quite there, but the bitter tones were.

“My thoughts exactly,” she muttered to him. She looked down at Freddie, not paying attention to where she was walking.

That was how she wound up bumping into someone.

The other girl stumbled back, knocked off course. The paper she’d been holding fluttered to the ground.

“Oops! Sorry about that,” Margot said, hoping that none of her recent aggravation made it into her voice. She bent to pick up the girl’s paper.

The girl was a tiny blonde who looked a lot like one of those rosy-cheeked figurines that belonged on a grandmother’s shelf. Innocent. Maybe even precious in a way that was usually reserved for small animals.

Her dress was as matronly as every other Holliwell citizen’s. It was wasted on her. A girl that young and doe-like was better suited for a more youthful style. Even her shoes were black and reserved. Conservative all around.

Margot’s staring triggered a system message.

[SYSTEM: Unable to complete request. Item masking is enabled.]

“It’s okay,” the girl said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Margot realized she had been staring for far too long without saying anything. Embarrassed, she passed the paper over. “Here, you dropped this.”

The girl giggled—yeah, she was that kind of girl—and took back her paper. “Thank you.”

“Hold on, you wouldn’t happen to be heading into the tavern to pin that up, would you?”

“I am.”

Margot waved her hands. “Don’t bother. Let’s cut out the middleman. I’ll take your quest, whatever it is.”

The girl looked taken aback. “But it wouldn’t be an officially sanctioned quest, then.”

“What’s the difference?”

“An officially sanctioned quest has the Great Mother’s blessing. She often gives bonus rewards depending on how well you’ve completed the quest,” she answered. “The rewards could be Credits, rare loot, or additional XP. It’s up to the Great Mother.”

“So what about the bonus rewards or whatever? I don’t care about that.”

“I don’t have a ton to offer, either. I’m afraid this isn’t the most exciting of quests.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“I’ve had to revise my quest a number of times. No one’s been interested in it. I’d like to offer more for it, but I only have so much money,” the girl said. “I’m scared that we’re running out of time…”

“What’s your quest? Can I see your flyer?” Margot held her hand out.

The girl handed it over.

[A HUMBLE REQUEST

Name: Laura Flower

Request: Find Scout in the Nightshade Forest

Notes: Urgent!

Reward: 500 Credits]

For a quest paper that had been revised a number of times, it sure looked sparse.

“Who’s Scout?” Margot asked.

“My dog. He went missing days ago,” Laura said.

Margot should’ve guessed that Laura’s last name would be something like Flower.

“I can find him, no problem!”

Were the Psionics who visited Holliwell that selfish to ignore a missing dog? It baffled Margot that 500 Credits wasn’t enough for them. That went a long way in Patchwork Town. It wasn’t like Holliwell looked particularly ritzy or anything. It should’ve sufficed.

Margot said, “I’ll just need an advance on the money. I’ve gotta buy some armor, a better weapon, and a map.”

Laura clasped her hands together and bowed. “Thank you so much! I’ll have to go home and get my wallet. Do you mind waiting here?”

“I don’t mind coming along.”

“Okay. Have you ever been to Holliwell before? Your clothes tell me that you’re not from around here,” she replied. “I can give you a small tour as we walk.”

Margot picked up Freddie so he wouldn’t have to walk as much. It also allowed him a better view of the town, not that there was a whole lot to look at. The designs of the buildings were plain and square. And come to think of it, they looked as modest and unassuming as the Holliwell citizens’ clothing. Men and women alike shied from showing any amount of skin on their legs and arms.

“You guys must fry in the summertime,” Margot said.

“Yes, we do. We set up a fire pit in the middle of town and roast marqrats over it.”

“I meant your bodies, since you’re so covered up.”

“Oh,” Laura said. “We manage. Lighter fabrics help.”

Laura pointed out the direction of the general store and other shops that were of Margot’s interest. She explained that Holliwell had initially been a settlement community, founded by a religious sect who believed that Favor was something to be earned at all times.

Favor wasn’t something contingent only on actions, but appearances as well. Favor was cultivated through a mindset.

Holliwell didn’t see Raid Day attacks like Patchwork Town did. Its NPCs weren’t under a weekly threat of death. Instead, they worked together in their insular community. Psionics would roll on through, take care of the quests on the pin board, and then leave.

Sometimes, Psionics borrowed their town as a battleground, because of its lay-out.

Their town was considered a rest point for Psionics more than anything. That was probably why they were so picky about which quest to do, because there wasn’t a whole lot to see and do in Holliwell. Other than the quest board, it didn’t have much to offer.

“My house is behind this one,” Laura said.

The trio stopped in front of a house that had a bell-shaped door knocker on it. Its painting scheme was the same bland beige as the others, but the door knocker helped it to stand out. The name on the side of its mailbox had been scrubbed out.

“There’s room for a house back there?” Margot asked. She assumed that it had be something pint-sized. “Do you live in a guest house?”

Margot wasn’t entirely sure of the name for it. They didn’t have those kinds of things in Patchwork Town.

“I do.”

“I wish me and my sister could live in one of those. It’s like independence without moving that far from your parents. It’s pseudo-independence, just far enough away, but not too far.”

Laura nodded, smiling. “That’s exactly it. Excuse me one moment.”

She disappeared around the corner of the house.

Margot readjusted the way she was holding Freddie so that his head was on her shoulder, like a baby. She patted his back. He made a soft, rumbly purring-like sound.

As they waited, Margot imagined all of the things that she could get with the advance. No one in Holliwell knew about her NPC upbringing, which meant she’d be free and clear to purchase whatever she needed.

If she didn’t want to continue to be a laughingstock to everyone in Holliwell, she needed to do something about her scissors. She planned on keeping them for crafting purposes.

Even she had to admit that it was time to let her scissors go. She double-checked their stats.

[EQUIPMENT: Scissors

Type: Improvised Weapon

Quality: Fair

Damage Value: 1

Penalty: Improvised, -1.]

Working with the scissors meant that she had to be on point with her fighting technique. She couldn’t be soft while fighting. In that regard, learning how to fight with the scissors had been an asset to her.

Margot hadn’t relied on her weapon’s strengths (which it lacked). She had to hone her skills and work doubly as hard to make the scissors an effective weapon. She couldn’t just rely on a high Damage Value. It took hard work and perspiration.

Okay, sure she had Freddie to lessen that burden. As a Tamer, she probably didn’t need to worry about her weaponry skills all that much. But she wasn’t the type of person to just sit back and let Freddie do all of the work. That would be taking the easy and unfortunate way out.

“Your dragon’s very cute, by the way.”

Margot had been too lost in her thoughts to notice when Laura returned.

“He’s a wyvern,” Margot corrected. “Dragons have arms.”

“Aren’t they in the same family?”

“I guess. His name’s Freddie, by the way. And I’m Margot. I don’t know if we’ve already introduced ourselves…” Margot trailed off. Laura Flower’s adorableness made her forgetful.

“Nice to meet you. Your Freddie reminds me of my Scout. I hope you can find him.”

“The sooner you give me your money, the sooner I can get started.” Margot cringed at the way that sounded. “I mean, I can find him in no time at all for you, whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you!” Laura handed her a small pouch of Credits. The coins pinged together. “Thank you so much.”

“I’ll be off, then.” Margot didn’t know what else to say. She gave Laura an awkward wave and headed to the first shop on her list. It was time to get outfitted for the Nightshade Forest.

She stopped in her tracks, realizing that she probably should’ve asked Laura for more information about the Nightshade Forest itself. She turned, and said, “Oh, wait a second—”

But just that fast, Laura Flower had vanished.

Was booking it out of there at the end of a conversation a Holliwell thing? It was like the girl had up and vanished. Margot hadn’t even heard her footsteps in the dirt.

She checked left and right, in case Laura had joined one of the small crowds passing by. She didn’t spot her shock of blonde hair anywhere.

“That’s weird,” Margot said.

Freddie lifted his head up.

“Whatever. We’ve got some shopping to do,” she said, and they headed off.

Chapter 14

Margot perused the shelves of Daniel’s Supply Store.

The shopkeeper kept a close eye on Freddie as he wandered around the store in search of food crumbs. Freddie lucked out when he found a fallen chunk of sweetbread. That reminded Margot that they hadn’t had a proper meal in a while.

She decided to divvy up her Credits into two piles. The money she had earned before Holliwell would go towards their food supply, while the 500 from Laura would be used for the journey ahead.

“Do you happen to have a map of the Nightshade Forest?” Margot asked. She picked through the shelf of rolled up scrolls, not finding what she was looking for.

The man, presumably Daniel of the store’s namesake, stood behind the counter. His moustache curled up at the ends. “I sold out of my last one an hour ago. There should be a map that will get you from here to there in that pile, though. My deepest condolences.”

Margot was grateful that Daniel didn’t share the same piss-poor attitude as the bartender did.

“That was gonna be my next question,” Margot said. She found it and tucked it under her arm. Then she went over to a smaller section of the store where the weapons were kept.

They were displayed behind a locked glass case. Although the town had another Weapons Store, that one’s prices hadn’t sat well with Margot’s budget. A single sword there had cost a resounding 1000 Credits.

Ridiculous.

She pressed her face against the glass and concentrated on analyzing the items within it.

[ITEM: Straight Sword

Type: Equipment

Property: Steel

Quality: Fair

Effect: None.]

[ITEM: Dagger

Type: Equipment

Property: Iron

Quality: Fair

Effect: None.]

[ITEM: Blowpipe

Type: Equipment

Property: Wood

Quality: Fair

Effect: None.]

When her head started to hurt, Margot pulled away from the glass. She wasn’t able to examine the two other swords in the display. One had a trident shape around its guard. The other had a blade as wide as her thigh. She doubted she’d have the strength to carry it.

“Can I try the straight sword out?” Margot asked.

Daniel took out his key ring, then went over to the display case. He smelled strongly of a foreign cologne, something similar to burnt leather and woodchips. Margot had to fight not to gag in front of him. It was like Daniel had bathed in it.

Once the case was opened, Margot took the straight sword in her hand. It was small and light, something intended to be used one-handed. She estimated the double-edged sword to be about two feet long.

Margot concentrated on it.

[EQUIPMENT: Steel Straight sword

Type: Sword

Quality: Fair

Damage Value: 2

Effect: None.]

Margot shut her eyes as a wave of sickness passed through her.

“Miss? Ma’am?” Daniel checked on her.

“I have… I’ve got a question,” Margot managed to say. She hoped that talking would alleviate her queasiness. It’d give her something else to focus on, at least. “How do Damage Values factor into everything? I don’t want to buy the wrong weapon.”

“I’m an NPC, so I don’t have all of the information on this. I apologize if I get anything wrong, ma’am.”

“It’s fine. I just want to know if I’m losing out if I get something that’s a 2.”

Daniel nodded. “You wouldn’t be losing out with that sword. It’s beautiful. It used to belong to someone with a Warrior Talent. The dings in the metal are from when it was used in a lich’s dungeon.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen kitchen pans with Damage Values of 3. Why’s this sword only at a 2? Doesn’t that mean it’s worse?”

“This sword’s far better. A kitchen pan isn’t a proper weapon,” Daniel said. “The way that I’ve had it explained to me is this: the damage you do with the weapon is dependent on several things. There’s the Damage Value which gets multiplied or added with your ability and then that gets multiplied or added with your technique. I can’t remember if it’s multiplication or addition, but I’m leaning towards multiplication for your overall damage.”

“And if something is at a -1 because it’s Improvised…?”

“You’d be hitting for less damage than what you’re supposed to. What exactly that -1 means, I am not completely sure, but I think it’s fair to say that you shouldn’t be using a weapon that has a negative modifier of any kind.”

Assuming that Daniel was right about the multiplication thing, then the straight sword would be at a 2 multiplier to her Offensive Power of 3, and then that would get multiplied by whatever he meant by technique.

Was technique a shorthand for Skills? Or maybe it was actual technique, like the way the weapon was utilized. The Great Mother had hinted that numeral strength alone wouldn’t be the only way to get the job done when it came to killing monsters.

And different ways of killing would also have an effect. The Great Mother had once told her to try cutting versus stabbing. Dependent on the weapon, the hit values would differ. Margot imagined that a spear would exhibit a better Damage Value when thrust rather than slashed.

“The straight sword that you’re holding,” Daniel continued, “is a very technical weapon. Not everyone could wield such a thing, but you look like you would be perfect for it.”

“Based on what?”

“It’s a feeling that I get.”

Margot had a feeling that he was only talking her up as part of his job as a salesman. Next, she was expecting him to say something about how she had an amazing energy about her, which she needed to capitalize on by buying more things from his store.

She gave the sword a test swing. It sliced through the air in a delicate arc.

“Do you know the Damage Value on that dagger in there?” Margot asked.

“I believe that it is at a 1 because of its small size. If you’re proficient in small blades, however, that shouldn’t be a hindrance. It would be much worse for you to buy a weapon that you didn’t know how to use.” Daniel picked up the dagger. “Would you like to try it out?”

“No, no, thank you. I think I’ll be good with this one. How much is it?”

“That will be 450 Credits. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Does it come with a scabbard?”

“Yes. I keep them behind the counter.”

“I’ll take this and any potions you have. “

“We’re having a buy one get one free special. 50 Credits for a bottle of Burgundy Dreams.” Daniel went back behind his counter. “It’s on the shelf over there.”

Margot hadn’t heard of that brand before, but potions were potions.

“I’ve also got a leather vest for sale. I noticed that the one you’re wearing has some tears in the back.”

She didn’t want to go over her 500 Credits limit, but some more armor would be helpful. Margot checked what Daniel had in stock. Unfortunately, the double extra-large leather vest was beyond her size.

So much for that.

“What’s this thing called?” Margot grabbed a leather shoulder pad with straps dangling off of it from the shelf.

Daniel explained, “That’s an epaulet.”

Margot only had 115 Credits, most of it earned from her run-ins with the bearlaxes.

“How much does the epaulet cost?” It looked like it would be the perfect perching place for Freddie. It would give him something to grab onto other than her bare shoulder.

“100 Credits.”

“And the price of that map to the Nightshade Forest?”

“10 Credits.”

Margot sighed. “Okay. How far can 5 Credits go as far as food in this town?”

“You should see Magdalena. She’s a food vendor out on the street. She’ll get you fixed up with a nice chicken skewer,” Daniel said. “Tell her that I sent you. She may let your pet have some of the spare bones from her cart.”

“Thanks. Okay, so I’ll take the potions, the sword, the map, and the epaulet.”

“You got it.”

***

After getting a bite to eat with the last of their Credits Margot and Freddie left for the Nightshade Forest. Having a map made the journey significantly easier than it had been getting from Patchwork Town to Holliwell.

As they walked, Margot took in the sights and sounds of the forest and how they grew darker the closer they got to their destination. Birds went from high-pitched tweets to low-toned crooning. The trees groaned as wind pulled on their branches.

Freddie sat on Margot’s shoulder epaulet, his wings tucked in so he wouldn’t get tangled in her hair. The leather material gave him something to sink his claws into. Margot figured she must look like a falconer.

She hoped that Laura Flower would take pity on her impoverished state and throw in a home-cooked meal for their efforts. Margot didn’t need a monetary tip. Dinner would be more than enough of a thank you gift.

“Is it just me or are the leaves turning purple?” Margot asked Freddie.

Freddie chirped.

It was like the trees around them were soaking up the sky’s color. The change had been progressive as they went. Margot knew they couldn’t have been walking for the hours it would’ve taken to transition from day to night. The darkness must’ve been due to the changing environment.

“That makes sense. It wouldn’t be a Nightshade Forest if it didn’t exist in an endless nightscape, or was covered in a bunch of nightshade plants, but, you know.”

The man-made path cutting through the woods came to an end. Its conclusion marked the Nightshade Forest’s proper beginning. Mushrooms clustered around the tree roots. Margot warned Freddie not to go near any of them. Again, she found herself wishing that she remembered to bring the bushcraft book.

She gripped her scabbard and withdrew her straight sword. Her backup weapons— the scissors and the awl—remained on her belt. The potion jars and her spare clothes remained stuffed in her messenger bag.

A small boy sat at the base of a tree. He was huddled over, his hood covering his face. His robes drowned him. Had he gotten lost in the woods?

Freddie’s claws squeezed into the epaulet. Margot approached, her sword held aloft.

The boy looked up.

Margot gasped.

His face was reptilian in appearance. Scaly green skin. Yellow eyes with a single black dot residing at the center.

He wasn’t a little boy at all. He was a monster, perhaps some type of kobold.

Margot readied her weapon.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the creature croaked.

“You know how to speak?” Margot tightened her hold on her weapon.

“Return from where you came. The ritual cannot be interrupted.” The lizard boy thing started to stand up.

“Smoke him, Freddie,” Margot commanded.

Air whooshed by her ear as Freddie let out his Poison Breath attack.

[SYSTEM: Critical hit!]

[SYSTEM: You have gained 10 XP.]

It was an instant kill.

“That was easy.” Margot let her arm hang loose, her sword dropping to her side.

The monster’s body faded away. The Great Mother didn’t reward them with any items for the kill.

Margot checked on her statistics screen. She was sitting on 140 XP and needed 116 more before she could get to Level 4. Leveling up was a pain in the ass.

Margot and Freddie pushed onward to the forest. The ground was wet and muddy underfoot. It stuck to her shoes with every step. If Freddie hadn’t been riding her shoulder, Margot had a feeling he would’ve gotten stuck in the mud.

She cupped her free hand around her mouth. “Scout! Here, boy!”

She realized that she should’ve asked for a detailed description of Laura’s dog. Now that Margot thought about it, it was strange that Laura hadn’t given her one. Then again, how many adorable dogs did Nightshade Forest hold? Scout should stick out like a sore thumb.

“Scout!” Margot yelled.

A buzzing noise filled the air.

That wasn’t Scout.

It was a wasp the size of Margot’s head. It came in from above, its body curled to sting her.

Margot stepped back in time for it to miss. She swung her sword as she moved. Her blade connected. It didn’t slice through, but her weapon slapped the wasp creature to the ground.

Margot finished it off with a well-placed stomp.

Freddie screeched. Two more bugs had joined them. Margot ducked out of the way for the most part.

Its stinger clipped her uncovered shoulder. Unsatisfied, the wasp rose.

Freddie launched off of Margot’s shoulder, his mouth outstretched. He caught the wasp in his jaws, his bite going through it in a powerful crunch.

That left the final target for Margot.

The wasp buzzed, not moving from where it was hovering. Margot motioned for it to come for her.

When it did, she was prepared. She struck out with her straight sword. Her first swing missed, coming up short, but when she did her return swing in the other direction, it met the wasp.

The wasp plummeted from the hit. Margot didn’t hesitate. She pierced her sword through it.

Dead, dead, and dead.

[SYSTEM: Congratulations! You have gained 8 XP!

You have gained 8 XP!

You have gained 8 XP!]

The redundant notifications bothered her. She mind-screamed at the GM to mute them. Knowing her track record with the Great Mother, though, the GM was probably going to make things worse.

One of the wasps revealed 10 Credits when it disappeared. That would buy them another snack at the food vendor. Margot’s mouth watered as she remembered the chicken skewers. She needed to ask Magdalena for the recipe. Better yet, she needed to get a chicken. Failing that, she’d have to settle for more street cart food.

Freddie pushed his head against the front of her ankle. Margot crouched to pick him up and propped him on her shoulder.

She noticed paw prints in the mud.

“That must be Scout,” Margot said. “Let’s follow them.”

The prints led them to an upward slope. The hill was slick, her boots sliding as she went up it. She widened her stance so she wouldn’t fall. Just as the ground began to level out again, an arrow whizzed by her head.

Margot dove for cover behind a boulder. Freddie fell from her shoulder. He rolled, tucking in close to her hiding spot. Another arrow soared overhead, curving downwards into the ground somewhere behind them.

Margot pulled out the pan lid from her messenger bag.

“Walk around the other side,” Margot whispered to Freddie. “Sneak up on whoever’s shooting at us. I’ll create a distraction.”

Freddie nodded. Staying low, Margot lifted the pan lid over the top edge of the rock. Another arrow flew at her, whipping the air over the lid. Margot waited, then counted off before giving Freddie the go signal.

As he went, Margot continued to peek the edge of the pan lid around the rock. She pulled it away fast, trying to confuse the archer. She added a couple of yelps for good measure.

Then, there was a squeal from their attacker.

Margot bolted from her hiding place. She could see the upper half of the reptilian man, his arms holding a bow and aiming downwards. The rest of him was obscured behind a short wall of stone brick. Without another thought, Margot dropped her sword, and tossed the pan lid at the monster.

It spun past them, well over the archer’s shoulder.

Bang! It went into a tree.

The archer turned in its direction.

Freddie fired a Poison Breath attack, the green stream exploding on impact with the monster’s chest. The reptilian man fell over from the blow.

Margot grabbed her sword and hurried over.

Freddie sat on the ground, his breath coming out in small puffs. Margot crouched down. She patted him on the head and said, “Good job, buddy.”

The Great Mother took the reptilian monster person’s body away, but left his bow and arrows. There weren’t many left in his quiver. Margot counted them. Three shots. That was better than nothing, especially seeing how she had lost her only ranged weapon.

Margot slid her straight sword back into its scabbard. She shouldered the quiver, hanging the strap over her back. She took out an arrow, put it into the proper position, and struck a pose similar to her mother’s illustration.

A tingle traveled down her arms.

Somehow, holding this weapon made her feel closer to Judith. It was nice to have some similarities to her. Maybe, she could use this bow and arrow and become something of an archer, like her mother. Margot hadn’t seen any arrows for sale around the town, but with a little ingenuity, she could come up with something.

Freddie tapped her foot with his. He pointed his head towards a set of paw prints.

“Right,” Margot said quietly. “Let’s keep going.”

She put Freddie back onto her shoulder and walked slow and low to the ground to minimize the noise she was making. She kept out the bow, the arrow relaxed so she wouldn’t jump and accidentally fire it.

Her messenger bag hit her hip as it bounced. Margot gritted her teeth, bracing herself through the annoyance.

There were more blockades set up, short walls from which the reptilian men could fire shots from. They were staggered across the hilled area in a checkered formation. A wall there, and another wall over there.

Margot continued to duck as she moved.

Chattering voices nearby made her take a pause.

She got behind a blockade and pressed close to it.

The voices came closer.

Margot slid along the wall to get to the other side.

She held her breath.

The reptilian men kept walking. They hadn’t noticed her. And thanks to the Great Mother, they wouldn’t notice their fallen comrade, either. They wouldn’t have his corpse to know him by.

But once they wizened up to him being gone, they were sure to come back and look for his killer. It was only a matter of time.

Margot pushed ahead to the next set of blockades. She sniffed a strong smoke smell. She peered around the edge of the wall.

A small group of hooded reptilian men gathered around a fire. One of them chanted to the others. This had to be the ritual that the kobold-ish boy warned her not to disturb. Were they trying to summon a spirit?

Margot added them up. There were four, maybe five of them. Including the two that had passed her by meant that there were seven of them in total that she needed to get rid of.

Off to the side of the ritual was a cage. The furry face of a dog stared out at her from between the bars.

That had to be Scout! But how were they supposed to get him?

Margot prepared her bow. She moved closer.

The reptilian men paid rapt attention to whatever it was that their preacher was saying. Margot edged over to Scout’s cage. The dog watched her, his eyes shining with what had to be terror.

Freddie gripped his talons into the epaulet to keep from sliding off. Out of cover, Margot kneeled by the cage. As long as no one turned towards them, she could unlatch the cage, take Laura Flower’s dog, and hightail it out of there. It was a simple plan that wouldn’t lead to any more bloodshed.

Everyone just needed to stay quiet.

Margot found the latch to the door.

And one of the men found her. He screeched a warning cry.

Margot popped up. She let the first arrow loose. It plunked to the ground. Not enough force. Margot took out the second arrow. This one made its target, going right into the thigh of the nearest monster.

That wasn’t exactly where she had planned for it to go, but she’d take it.

Margot prepared the third and final shot.

The string broke in her hands.

A few of the men came charging, their weapons sharpened stones and brute sticks. Margot threw the broken bow at them.

Freddie unleashed a series of Poison Breath attacks. Green streamed by the corner of Margot’s vision.

“Get down,” she said.

Freddie jumped to the grass. His attacks slowed the reptilian men. They held their arms in front of their faces to defend themselves from the blasts.

Meanwhile, Margot went back to opening the cage door.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Psyche is at 65%.]

“Got it!” Margot unhooked the cage door. She pulled it open.

Scout had a strip of paper placed between his eyes. Margot tore it off.

Freed, Scout ran out of the cage at full speed. He went down the side of the hill, his legs carrying him far away. Margot took out her sword and got back onto her feet to face the lizard men.

Freddie stopped firing his Poison Breath attacks. None of their enemies were dead. They still stood, looks of horror on their faces. They turned and ran down the other side of the hill, no longer wanting to fight.

Margot remained tense, prepared for a sneak attack from another source.

It never came. She didn’t have a lot of time to waste if she wanted to catch Scout. She slammed her sword back into its scabbard and held Freddie close against her as she chased after the dog.

The muddy paw prints he left simplified the tracking process. It also helped that his light brown fur stood out against the stark forest. He was like a beacon, a lantern in the otherwise dark woods. Margot kept her wits about her, staying alert so nothing would sneak up on her and Freddie.

Following Scout through the forest brought them to a cave. It was a yawning, gaping mouth in the side of a rock formation. He’d already disappeared inside of it, his prints leading the way in. Margot called for the dog. When he gave no bark in reply, Margot went inside to find him.

The cave glowed from the worms crawling around its ceiling. They weren’t interested in attacking her and they didn’t seem like they were going to fall off. Margot kept a hand above Freddie’s head just in case.

Paintings stretched out across the cave wall. Splashes of blue and red created a scene. Margot traced them with her hand. Most of the artwork had faded, but she filled in the blanks in the story it was depicting. It looked like a hunt, of many people against a behemoth.

And then the story abruptly came to an end. The next section was about a transformation. Creatures turned into other creatures, following some kind of growth pattern. A four-legged animal went on to get claws, and then antlers and a pair of wings. There was a breakdown after that, in which it looked like the creature turned itself into a swirl pattern. It became a ball, and then a bird with a single leg.

Random.

“Scout?” Margot asked into the darkness of the cave. She gripped her sword with both hands and ventured forward.

Something growled from within the cave.

As much as she wanted to turn around and leave, she kept thinking of Laura Flower. She remembered that look on her face when she said that no other Psionics cared about her quest. Margot was going to see this through. She was going to get Scout back, no matter what it took.

As she went further into the cave, she discovered more paintings. They continued the story that started at the entrance, the one that had suddenly broken off in the middle. Human figures danced around a creature that gradually grew in size. It lost its shape. Streaks of paint radiated from it, obscuring its form.

The human figures took up weapons. Though the drawings were crude, Margot could understand that they were no match for their ever-changing enemy. The next panel showed a symbol. Then, the creature shrunk in size.

“Hold on,” Margot said. “Haven’t I seen this somewhere before?”

That same symbol had been on the piece of paper placed on Scout. She took a long pause at that.

Freddie pecked at her to get moving.

She yelped, then moved on at his urging. “Scout? Here, boy.”

They needed to get out of this cave, fast.

The path emptied out into a circular room. Candlesticks in tall holders kept the area lit in a red glow reminiscent of dawn. The wicks held voluminous fire that they shouldn’t have been able to handle. From what Margot could see, the wax did not sweat.

In the center of the room sat Scout. He was on his haunches, looking at them with a blankness that unnerved Margot. When was the last time Scout blinked?

“You look like you’re scared to death. Damn, we probably should’ve brought him some treats,” Margot said to Freddie. “Here, Scouty, Scouty. We’re not going to hurt you. Laura sent us to find you. We’re going to bring you home.”

Before Freddie, she might’ve been embarrassed talking to animals in such a syrupy sweet tone. Now, it was second nature to her, something she switched into without being fully aware of it.

Scout barked. His muzzle wrinkled, his lips pulling back to reveal jagged teeth.

Margot waved her hand. “It’s okay,” she said in what she hoped was a calming voice.

His lips continued to pull back. The fur on his face retracted like a yanked-off mask. His mouth grew in size, becoming a hole. A slick monstrous face burst from it. Clawed, shiny black arms shot out of Scout’s sides.

What was once Laura Flower’s dog was an empty husk. Scout’s skin fell away, torn to pieces. The monster that emerged stood up on a single tail, its thick torso wide. Two white slits functioned as eyes on its elongated face. Its sharp teeth revealed a demented grin.

“Freddie—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Freddie launched at the creature. It swiped at him. He ducked below. It made a second pass. Freddie rolled forward, escaping its reach.

As it went after Freddie, Margot raced towards it. Her satchel slapped against her hip.

She swung her sword at its arm. Its hand struck out, claws meeting metal in a clang. A lock. Tension tightened her arms. The struggle began, one side pushing against the other for control.

Freddie went for the creature’s tail. The tail whipped backwards, sending Freddie into a wall.

Its other arm, the one not holding her sword back, reached to grab her. Margot disengaged. She stumbled to the side, her movement clumsy. It sliced through the space where she’d once been.

Margot dropped low, face-to-face with the monster’s stomach. A snap of her wrist, and her blade connected. It drew out a line of blood, more sludge than liquid. She kept moving to get out of range. A misstep brought her lower than she intended.

The monster seized her shoulder. Her sword clattered to the ground. She twisted to get out of its grasp. The claws pierced her further, hot rivulets of blood pouring down her arm. With a scream, she tore herself free.

A patch of her skin was left in the monster’s hand.

Margot turned to run. The monster smacked her airborne, mid-stride. A wall stopped her flight, and she landed in a crumpled heap on the cavernous floor. She missed the candlestick holder by a foot.

Dazed, she saw through bleary eyes as the beast slithered its way towards her.

No time to crawl away.

Her right arm wouldn’t lift. No strength. Numb. Sensation poured out of it along with the blood. Using her left hand, she popped open the pouch that held her scissors. Her back-up weapons were all she had.

The monster hovered over her.

She kicked at it in desperation. Her boot collided with solid flesh. The monster didn’t flinch. It leaned down, grabbed her ankle, and hoisted her upwards to its eye-level. Upside down, Margot swung. Her scissor blades missed.

The monster snapped its teeth at her.

She flailed out with her good limbs. Her arm connected with something. The candlestick holder. It fell, crashing onto the monster’s tail. The beast screeched and dropped her. She landed on her bad shoulder.

Tears streamed down her face. She wielded the pain, becoming a bolt of pure adrenaline. Margot shot back up to retrieve her sword. She had to live. She couldn’t die in this cave. Respawning here would be a surefire path to perma-death.

The monster slapped its tail against the ground in an effort to shake the flames off.

Freddie croaked in distress. Margot’s body ached all over, deep to the bone. Freddie might have broken something when he got tossed.

The flames raged on. The monster roared, unable to put them out. It turned its attention back onto Margot and charged for her.

She doubled back to the nearest candlestick holder. Once the monster was close, she shoved the candle over.

It missed. Fire sparked out over the ground.

Margot lunged with her sword. She got the monster in the arm, black goop exploding out of its wound. It recoiled, its voice crackling as it said something to her. She tried to run, to escape, but the monster didn’t let her.

It slashed into her retreating back. She lost her footing and hit the ground stomach-first. Her teeth bit through her lip.

She rolled over, in time to block the monster’s next attack.

A green blast exploded over the monster’s upper body. The monster cried out, its attention snapping to Freddie. Margot took that chance to drag herself out of its strike zone. She trailed a red streak as she moved.

Freddie bellowed out a second Poison Breath attack.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Psyche is at 55%.]

Margot forced herself back onto her feet. Her legs wobbled. Bad arm swaying at her side, she pushed herself to get to the next candlestick.

The monster headed for Freddie.

“Hey!” she shouted at it. “Over here!”

Its tail still burning, it turned around to get to her.

Margot gripped the candle holder for support, the blood on her glove helping her to stick to it. Nausea uncurled in her belly. She couldn’t stop shaking.

[SYSTEM: Warning! User Unknown is at 35% of Shell. Healing is strongly advised. Your Shell damage is critical.]

Everything came down to this.

The monster was within range. It attempted to grab her.

Margot raised her sword. It glanced off the monster, her grip too weak.

In response, the monster raked its claw down her sword arm.

She dropped her weapon, but refused to let go of the candle holder.

The monster gripped into her side, piercing right through her skin. It pulled her, its teeth gnashing out for her throat. She leaned back as much as she could.

Her vision wavered.

With an inhuman wail, the monster tugged her closer.

And brought the candle holder down with her.

It exploded over the monster’s head.

The monster let Margot go, and she bounced when she struck the ground.

Heat flared up all around her. The monster was fully engulfed in the flames. Red hot fire burned through it.

Her arms protested as she raised herself back up. She had to get away.

She needed to be with Freddie.

The monster shuddered. The flames crackled as it fell.

[SYSTEM: You have gained 300 XP!]

[SYSTEM: Congratulations! You have leveled up!]

“We did it,” she breathed out when she reached Freddie.

The wyvern hatchling looked at her through half-lidded eyes. His heartbeat slowed.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Companion is at 15% of Shell.]

It hurt to breathe, every breath taking its toll on her. She coughed, her mouth wet and filling up. The monster probably broke her ribs or tore something up bad.

The adrenaline faded. Everything became dark.

She collapsed next to Freddie.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Shell damage is critical. Healing is advised.

You are taking Bleed damage.]

The last thing she saw were the eternal flames.

Chapter 15

Margot respawned sometime later, dry of the blood she’d once been soaking in.

Her death had erased the XP she’d earned past her level up. She was back to 0. The monster’s body was missing, but there was no loot in its place.

Freddie pushed his snout against her thigh. He urged her to get up. Groggily, she listened to him. She picked up all of her things and set Freddie up on her shoulder to perch.

The Wyvern Tamer returned to Holliwell one level higher. Her clothes were ripped worse than before. She rolled up her sleeves to cover up that fact. Although she had other clothes she could change into, she hadn’t gotten a chance to wash the dirt and grime off of them. That, along with a proper night’s sleep in a bed at the inn, was on her to-do list.

There were a few different ways she could go about breaking the news to Laura Flower. She played through the different scenarios in her head on her journey back.

She could tell her that an ancient monster took over her dog, and there was nothing that Margot could do about it. Hopefully, Laura Flower hadn’t expected Margot to bring home that monster. If that thing was actually Scout, then she needed a lot more than 500 Credits for the trouble.

She could also tell her that the search came up empty. What Laura had thought was Scout was actually a monster. The search for the real Scout would have to continue another day. But, maybe objectively telling her what happened would be the best thing for Margot to do. Laura Flower could make her own guesses as to what was going on based on Margot’s summary.

Margot walked through Holliwell’s unmanned gates.

She was scarcely a few steps inside before a loud voice bellowed at her. “That’s her!”

“Daniel?” Margot asked.

He was the shopkeeper who’d sold her her sword and the rest of the goods she’d taken with her to the Nightshade Forest.

Daniel pointed at her. He stood beside a man who had his hair cropped short to his head. The man’s uniform was freshly pressed, an emblem tacked to his lapel.

“You’re under arrest for the usage of counterfeit Credits,” the man said. He unclipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “I strongly suggest that you don’t resist.”

“Wait a second! I didn’t use counterfeit Credits for anything. He’s lying.” Margot went on the defensive.

Daniel held up a coin. He bent it in half. “Does this look like a lie to you?”

“You’re framing me!”

“Ma’am,” the man interrupted. “I’m going to ask you to hold out your wrists. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You’re not going to like the hard way.”

Freddie hissed.

“Don’t make me put a net on your little dragon,” he said.

“He’s a wyvern. My money’s real. I don’t even know how to make counterfeit Credits.” Margot racked her mind for an explanation. “I got my money from some girl. She looked a whole lot like a doll. She lives behind that house over there, the one with the unique door knocker.”

Daniel folded his arms.

Looking over his shoulder, Margot realized that they had an audience. A small group of people had gathered to watch her get arrested.

“Laura Flower! That’s the girl’s name. She has a dog named Scout. He went missing in the forest. Don’t look at me like that and pretend like you’ve never heard of her,” Margot said to the crowd. “One of you has to have met her before. Your town’s only so big. Laura Flower, hello?”

“You said she lives in that house over there?” the uniformed man asked.

“Right behind it. She said she has a tiny house right behind it, something like a guest house.”

“Right behind Sheriff Barley’s house.”

“I don’t know who that is, but yeah. If that’s his house then yes, she lives behind his house.”

Logic.

The man glowered at her. “I know for fact that there is no one by the name of Laura Flower who lives here.”

“Then she must be some Psionic tourist or something. I don’t know. I got tricked, too!”

“Your lies will end right there. I’m Sheriff Barley and there is no small house behind my house. You’re coming with me.”

Margot’s hand reached for her straight sword. If she made a run for it, she could break free and be out of Holliwell. She glanced at the open gate. Where had the guards gone off to? They were probably lurking around somewhere.

If she was going to do this, she’d have to be careful.

“Actually,” she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fwip!

Something pierced the side of her throat.

She reached a hand up, her fingers brushing against the dart’s feathered end.

“Shit.”

Freddie slid off of her shoulder.

She lost all feeling in her legs and went down, too.

***

“Don’t you think this is a little extreme for some counterfeit money?”

Margot had awoken in a caged cell. She strained against her handcuffs. They dug into her wrists. Her things were laid out over the sheriff’s desk, having just been inspected by the man item-by-item.

The sheriff sat in his chair, writing something down that she couldn’t see.

Freddie wore a muzzle.

“Hello? Are you going to answer me?” The chains connecting her handcuffs rustled as she approached the bars. “Is this normal for people in Holliwell? You put people into chains for something this stupid? Your town’s fucked up.”

Sheriff Barley set his piece of paper onto a growing stack. “Be thankful that you’re not in Patchwork Town. They behead criminals for fun there.”

“They don’t do it for fun. It’s a deterrent.”

“Everyone gathers to watch it. It’s entertainment for them. We do things differently here in Holliwell. You’ll be facing a judge in court in a few weeks’ time.”

“A few weeks?” Margot couldn’t believe it. “You’re gonna keep me locked up in here for weeks?”

“That’s what I said. Our judge is away on pilgrimage. Your sentence will be decided in court once she’s back. That’s the proper procedure here, not beheadings in the middle of the Town Square.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Margot said.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t joking.

She was trapped in her cell. Sheriff Barley and his cronies wouldn’t even let her out to use the bathroom. They gave her a bucket and told her to have at it. They at least had the decency to turn around when she used it, but that hardly lessened the embarrassment.

Freddie had to use the bucket, too, and that was far more than she wanted to share with her wyvern.

Food came in the form of a Poor Quality spread of meat over a stale Fair Quality bread and a bowl of Poor Quality soup she had to split with Freddie. The soup might as well have been water. The meal was as flavorless as it was slight.

The guards rarely answered her questions. They didn’t care to speak with her. Their job was to keep an eye on her, not look out for her social well-being. She’d hoped to play on their sympathies enough to get the cuffs taken off, but that didn’t work. Eventually, Margot stopped bothering all together.

Because of his good behavior, the guards took Freddie’s muzzle off of him. Lucky boy.

Margot spent the next few days and nights plotting their escape. A certain skill was instrumental to her plan, one that the Great Mother had shown her the last time she leveled up.

[SKILL: Hypnogenesis: Induces target into Sleep state by skin and eye contact. Effect ends when target is touched. At higher levels, the speed of induction is increased. Drains Psyche while effect is active.

Type: Active/Tamer

Primary Reliance: Neutral Psi

Prerequisite: None

Cost: 3 SP]

She purchased it when the guards expected her to be asleep. As for her 3 Ability Points, she spread them into her Poise and Power sections. Margot dropped 2 points into her Defensive Poise and 1 point into her Defensive Power. She hoped that becoming lighter on her feet would make it less likely for her to be hit during combat.

Margot didn’t want to relive that cave monster battle.

Dying at the end of that fight had knocked her XP down from where it should’ve been. She was back at 0, not getting to reap the full reward from that kill. At least she’d risen to be able to fight again.

She wanted to get Freddie his Flight skill, but Hypnogenesis was the backbone to her escape plan. Margot promised herself that Flight would be her next purchase.

Once she was finished, she reviewed her statistics menu.

[Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 4

XP: 0/400

Credits: 0

Shell: 100%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 3

Defensive: 3

Neutral: 1

Psi

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 1

Poise

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 4

Neutral: 1

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty): Unlocks the Tamer skill tree and grants the Tamer talent.

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Tamer to the Companion.

Second Sight: When activated, the Tamer sees through the vision of the Companion and vice versa.

Hypnogenesis: Induces target into Sleep state by skin and eye contact.]

Her plan would kick off at meal time.

When it was time to eat, Margot and Freddie’s food platter was slid through a slotted area at the bottom of the cell. A latch was lifted, and it got shoved in. As a safety precaution, the guards didn’t have to unlock the main door to feed their prisoners.

She needed to fake distress, something bad enough for the sheriff or whoever was feeding her to rush into her cell. Margot would play the role of a sick, young maiden, grab whoever it was by the hand, stare into his eyes, and hit him with the Hypnogenesis attack.

The thought of using a Psi-powered skill thrilled her as much as it scared her. It had a forbidden twinge to it.

According to her internal clock (she timed it by her hunger pangs), it’d be a while until the next feeding time.

“Hey, I told you not to touch that,” Margot said, her hands gripping the bars. Her chains rattled.

Sheriff Barley was at his desk checking through Margot’s personal effects. They’d been placed into a bin after the first day, but for whatever reason he had pulled Judith’s notebook out of it. He leafed through the book, a frown on his face.

On the occasions when he invaded her privacy, Margot made sure to let her protests be known. Normally, that would be enough to get him to close the thing and put it away, if only to maintain his image as a lawful man. Surely, Holliwell had to have some protections against spying.

Margot doubted those rights extended to criminals, but she hadn’t seen the judge yet. She shouldn’t have counted as a criminal over something she didn’t do. It was all that bitch Laura Flower’s fault.

The sheriff licked his thumb and pinched the next page as he turned it over.

“I’ll tell the judge on you,” she said.

“You may do that if you wish, but it won’t get you the results that you desire,” he said back to her. “Is this book addressed to you?”

“Nope. I found it somewhere.”

“According to Holliwell’s guestbook that you yourself signed, you are Margot Hyland from Patchwork Town. This book’s writer specifically mentions that town by name.”

“But do you see the name Margot in there anywhere? Nope. That book has nothing to do with me.”

“The writer’s a Wyvern Tamer just like yourself.”

“There’s lots of Wyvern Tamers out there.”

The sheriff licked his thumb again before turning the page. Margot shuddered. “It’s not a common Talent,” he said.

“What do you know about Talents? Aren’t you an NPC?”

Sheriff Barley glared at her. “I may be one, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about you Psionics. I’m not in the dark.”

Margot supposed that his position as the sheriff would make that possible. “Patchwork Town’s different. The typical NPC there doesn’t know anything. RPCs are an enigma to them.”

“I’m not a typical NPC.”

“Obviously. You’re the Holliwell Sheriff. You can’t become a sheriff while being all ordinary and typical and shit.”

“Are you aware that the serial number you gave to George is for a Rogue by the name of Nathaniel Benson? It took a couple days for us to retrieve the data.”

“From where? What data are you talking about?”

Margot squinted at him. He was probably trying to ruffle her feathers so she’d say something to further incriminate herself. Of course, she hadn’t done anything wrong in the first place. And she’d been doing a decent job of playing nice. She could’ve been making their lives miserable, but she kept to herself.

Freddie waddled over to where she stood and stared at the sheriff between the bars, mimicking Margot’s stance.

“The Moderators noticed our devotion to the Great Mother. They gifted us with a computational device. It allows us to check for fakers and Hackers alike. Now, I’m going to ask you a question, and you must be honest with me. What is your reason for lying about your serial number?” Sheriff Barley asked.

Margot couldn’t believe that. There were no such things as computational devices that could scan for data and things like that. She wasn’t going to fall for that trick.

“And let me guess,” she said, “the Moderators also gifted you with some level-ups. You’re somehow a Ranked Non-Psionic Contributor.”

“No, I’m still an NPC. The Moderators give town guards special equipment to keep people like you in line. We might not have levels like an RPC, but that doesn’t mean we’re as weak as a common NPC, either. You don’t want to test me. Now, for the last time, what is your real serial number?”

Special equipment? The sheriff had to be bluffing. He was saying whatever he could to get her to fear him.

It wasn’t working.

“Hm…my real serial number? I must’ve gotten a number wrong when I wrote it down. Silly me,” she said.

“What is it?”

Margot faked a yawn. “I’ll tell you after my nap. C’mon, Freddie. We’ve got a date with the cold hard floor.”

“I will rip every page from this book if you do not tell me your serial number right now.”

Margot blurted out, “867-938-204-333.”

“That’s better.” Sheriff Barley smiled. “For someone who found a random book, you’re rather quick to come to its defense.”

“Because the artwork in it is impressive. I like the art.”

“You’re not as clever as you think. Don’t forget that.” He jotted down the list of numbers that she gave him, then walked away from his desk and out of her view.

***

Margot Hyland lay with her cheek to the ground.

Some time had passed since the day when Sheriff Barley shook her down for another serial number. If what he said about the computational device was true, then it would spit back that she’d lied. She didn’t want to give them the truth because she didn’t know exactly what he could do with her numbers.

What if he put a mark on them, something that told anyone that ran them that she was some kind of criminal? What if it attached a red flag to her name, signaling her as someone for the Moderators to hunt down?

It was bad enough that she hadn’t given them a fake name. Her statistics menu still called her Unknown. She could’ve taken advantage of that. Being Unknown meant that she could be anyone.

The narrow window close to the ceiling told her that it was nighttime. The bars on it made it especially impossible for her to break out that way. Margot wouldn’t have been surprised if the ground below the window was lined with spikes. There had to be other fail-safe traps for anyone who managed to get out.

“Where’s George and the other guy?” Margot asked, sitting up.

“They’re busy tonight.” Sheriff Barley held the food tray.

Margot never thought she’d feel this way, but she actually missed Helena’s variety of cooking. Sure, it was awful and downright atrocious at the best of times. It still beat the monotony of soup and meat bread every single day. Even her stomach yawned at the prospect of another plate.

Freddie, on the other hand, eagerly hopped over to where the food slot was.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of the guards,” Margot said. “Did something happen?”

Sheriff Barley’s mouth became a thin line. He pushed the food tray through before Margot could catch it. It dropped, the soup spilling and the bread bouncing off. She had to restrain herself to keep from giving Sheriff Barley a piece of her mind. Insulting him ran the risk of him always delivering the food that way.

She allowed herself to voice a bitter “thanks.”

Margot made eye contact with Freddie, hoping that he’d play along with what was going to happen next.

The sheriff sat down at his desk. He stuck a quill into his inkwell and then scratched it over the document he was working on. He seemed to have a never-ending amount of papers to deal with. Sometimes, Margot felt a little bad for the guy.

But then she remembered that he was an asshole. Her pity dried up after that.

Freddie stuck his face into the soup bowl. Margot snatched up the hunk of bread before he could get to it. She stuffed a chunk of it into her mouth and commenced her theatrical routine.

Loud coughing. Wide eyes staring wildly around the room. Neck grasping. Plenty of gagging noises. She did it all.

Freddie flapped his wings, hopping around her.

“Stop that,” the sheriff barked at her.

Margot kept up the choking routine. She slapped her hand against the floor, then pointed to her throat.

“For crying out loud,” he muttered.

The sheriff stood up from his desk. He grabbed the glove from the mantle behind him, then yanked his key ring off his belt. The studs around the knuckles hinted that the gloves weren’t ordinary.

He unlocked the cell door, walked in, and then leaned over her. Freddie gave them space, but kept up his frantic acting.

Margot clutched the sheriff’s ungloved hand, all the while looking into his bright green eyes. She struggled to speak through her mouthful of dry bread.

“Water,” she croaked around the food.

Meanwhile, in her head, she was screaming Hypnogenesis over and over again.

The sheriff’s eyes drooped to half-mast. He wobbled. His hand holding the key ring loosened. The keys plopped to the ground, a jumble of metallic sounds. Freddie picked them up.

Margot got out of the way so the sheriff could fall unhindered. She guided him down lower, then let go.

He dozed.

“Who’s clever now?”

Margot held her fist out to Freddie. He bumped his forehead against it.

They hurried over to the sheriff’s desk where Margot’s things were. She checked her bag, wanting to account for everything before she left.

Bells rang, their sound coming in through the windows. They reminded her of Patchwork Town’s church bells, only they were hurried and without a discernable rhythm.

Warning bells?

The sheriff didn’t stir, her spell keeping him asleep. The upkeep wore on her. It showed through a slight blur at the edge of her view. She blinked to clear it, then dropped to her knees to rescue her straight sword from beneath the desk.

The door to the station creaked open.

Margot went still. Freddie, who sat by her side, followed suit.

Boots rushed in at a hurried pace.

“Sheriff Barley?” The voice belonged to one of the guardsmen, the one that wasn’t George.

Margot watched him enter the cell where Sheriff Barley was sleeping.

She shot up from behind the desk.

The guardsman whirled around. His sword was already drawn.

Freddie peeked his head around the desk and fired off a Poison Breath attack. He aimed it over the man’s head. The guardsman backpedaled to avoid it, tripping over Sheriff Barley’s body. The sheriff awoke with a start.

“What in the blazes is going on?” the sheriff bellowed.

Margot shut the cell door before he could figure it out. She tested it and let out a sigh of relief when she realized that it automatically locked. Freddie had dropped the key ring somewhere behind the sheriff’s desk.

“See ya!” She waved at the men trapped inside the cell, then placed Freddie on her shoulder. “Enjoy your bread and soup.”

The sheriff and guardsman’s shouts followed her on the way out.

Margot ran onto the wide open street.

Commotion and calamity.

People were screaming.

Holliwell was burning.

Chapter 16

Someone barreled into Margot.

She spun around from the impact, dropping to catch herself on her hands. The woman who bumped into her didn’t bother saying sorry. A baby held tight to her body, she kept on running.

Margot got up in time to see the creature chasing after the woman. It was a greenskin with a swipe of white paint across its face. It held a wooden club and wore tatters for clothing. Spotting a closer target than the one it had been chasing, it set its beady-eyed sights on Margot.

She pulled her sword from its scabbard.

The goblin charged for her. She sliced at its middle, then stepped off to the side. The goblin held its wound, guts slick in its fingers, but kept coming. Margot didn’t break her stride as she swooped in for a second slice.

That one got the goblin in its neck. It gave out a final gurgle, more liquidation than vocalization.

She didn’t wait for it to fall. She needed to get out of Holliwell. The raid—or whatever this was—would provide the perfect cover for her to escape into the night.

NPCs ran for their lives. Greenskins chased after them.

Off to the side, two opposing human groups were engaged in a battle with one another. Swords clanged. Arrows were shot. Margot didn’t recognize their outfits, but their color coordination made it seem like it was guild versus guild warfare. They’d chosen Holliwell as their arena.

In the middle of their chaos, goblins had shown up to pick off the Non-Psionics. Maybe one of the guilds had brought the goblins to make their battle more entertaining. It could have been a coincidence, though. Either way, the Psionics were capable of solving the goblin problem if they weren’t so intent on their own fight.

An arrow slammed into the roof above her. Its shingles exploded into a dust cloud of ruin. A chunk of the tiling slid off. It crashed to the ground by her foot, bringing up a billow of what she first thought was smoke.

Through the white-gray, Margot spotted a small boy hiding behind a barrel. He was alone, his knees tucked his chest and his head down.

Margot judged the distance to the front gate. She’d have to fight through some goblins to make it there, while also doing her best to avoid getting caught in the fray of the guild battle. Rescuing that boy would waylay her.

But…

She couldn’t leave a child to suffer. The Psionics weren’t going to stop fighting long enough to help him.

NPCs raced to find safety within the non-burning buildings. A wayward arrow from one of the guild archers struck a goblin dead. A handful of brave souls were at the water pump. Someone needed to put out the fire before it spread.

The screaming went on.

Smoke filled the air. Margot’s eyes watered. Freddie chirped into her ear. She took that as a sign to hurry up and go.

The child was hiding near the next building over from the station.

A cackling goblin got in her path. It drew back its arm to hit her with its club. Margot tracked the movement, getting out of its way. She weaved, then closed in on the beast with a decisive blow.

The goblin stumbled back. Margot stayed with it. She rammed her sword straight through it.

Its life faded from its wild eyes.

She shoved the corpse off of her blade.

“Okay, hold tight,” she called to Freddie. She heard the leather of her epaulet crinkle as Freddie gripped his talons into it.

Margot took off on a hard run that ended in a slide. Her boots slipped out from under her and she wound up falling onto her backside, close enough to the barrels that the kid was using for cover. It wasn’t how she planned it to happen, but it worked.

“Friendly!” Margot shouted over the noise. She crawled around the barrels. “Hey, little boy, I’ve come to rescue you. Where’s your house?”

The boy looked up at her.

Or rather, she should’ve said that the man looked up at her. The stubbly shadow on the lower half of his face betrayed his true age. He had to be at least Margot’s age, if not older. And according to his clothing, he probably wasn’t a citizen of Holliwell, either, come to think of it.

“I’m not a little boy,” he said in a definite adult voice.

“Oops.”

One of the barrels smashed open. Margot sheltered Freddie from the splintering wood. She twisted around to see what was happening.

A goblin stood over them, its club held over its head. When it slammed its weapon down again, Margot blocked it with her sword. The metal cut into the club.

She shoved her body against the heavy barrel. It tumbled over, knocking the goblin off of its feet.

“Are you a Psionic? Do you have any weapons?” Margot asked.

The stranger shook his head. “Psionic, yes. Weapons, no.”

“This is Freddie. He’ll watch you. I’ll get you something.” Margot made her way over the toppled barrel. The goblin fought to get out from under it. Grains poured out of the cracks in the paneling.

Margot plunged her sword into the goblin’s face. It no longer fought after that. She picked up its club, then returned to where the boy-who-wasn’t-a-boy was hiding.

“Use this,” she said.

“I-I’m not good at this,” the man stammered. “I’m an actooor.” He held out the last syllable, stretching it and emphasizing the “tor” sound.

“Then act like you can fight.”

There were Psionics out there that didn’t know how to do that? Wasn’t that what the Great Mother had made them for? That threw Margot for a loop.

“Follow me,” she said. “We’ve got to make it to the front gate. What’s your name?”

“Hugh.”

A stray arrow pierced the barrel, inches away from hitting her. Margot clapped her hand over her heart. That had been a close call.

“That’s our cue to leave. You go first. I’ll cover you.” Margot grabbed Freddie and placed him onto her shoulder in the reverse direction so he could see if anyone was going to creep up behind her.

Hugh took off running. Margot chased after him. There wasn’t much time to think about it, but she suspected that he was a pip from Pipland, a neutral country. Pipland contained less people in it than the largest city she knew of in her home country. Pips were a small lot, and she’d always heard of them being reclusive. Why was one of them all the way in Holliwell?

He halted abruptly. Margot ran into his back.

“Keep going!” she yelled at him.

“Monsters.”

Margot stepped ahead of him. Two goblins laughing their heads off stood in their path. They battered their clubs together, the smack of the wood startling Margot. She took a deep breath.

Freddie turned around on her shoulder to see what was going on.

Margot made the first move. She swung her sword in a horizontal arc. She followed its turn, rotating on her heel.

One of the goblins stepped towards her. She danced out of its range, then did another spin to end up at the goblin’s side. A slice, and then a swing, and the first goblin went down before it could follow her movements.

The last goblin pulled back to hit her.

Margot overstepped her turn. The side of the club scraped her. Lungs burning from the effort, Margot swooped back in and went low. She cut the goblin at its knees.

It gurgled something, then attempted a blow to her shoulder.

Freddie took care of it. He blasted his Poison Breath attack right in the goblin’s face. It was knocked back, dead.

Margot pushed her hair away from her forehead. She turned to Hugh. He stood there, seemingly awestruck and still unmoving. “C’mon, you can’t keep waiting there. We’ve gotta go.”

Patter, patter, coming from somewhere above them. It sounded like a heavy rain, like a hailstorm. Then, there was a crunch. A splintering, and a crumbling.

Margot looked up, and then cursed the shoddy construction of Holliwell’s buildings. Arrows or something else had destroyed the integrity of the overhang, which was now hurling its way downwards and sloping off of the building they stood under.

“Run!” Margot pulled Freddie off of her shoulder, bringing him against her chest to protect him.

Freddie screeched.

Hugh screamed.

And the roof, shingles and tiles and all, came crashing down over them.

Chapter 17

Margot burst out of the rubble, dust clouds rising all around her. She spat out dirt. To her dismay, it had gone muddy in her mouth. Her whole body yelled at her for relief. She ached all over, her joints stiff from the damage.

The weight of the roof had knocked her unconscious. Enough time had gone by for the fighting to end. People were running around, buckets in hand to douse the flames that continued to roar in Holliwell.

She spotted the rude bartender from earlier directing people to where they needed to go, giving something for them to focus on in their the-town-is-still-burning frenzy. Although the fires had died down significantly, there was still plenty of work left to be done.

Margot traced a short queue of people to its source, a Psionic with glowing hands. He hovered his hands over an injured child’s leg. The child screamed. Her mother held her hand. Margot wondered where that Psionic had been during all the chaos. Was he trying to make amends for his involvement or lack thereof?

It looked like the guild people had left. They ruined Holliwell with whatever they were doing and then, satisfied, disappeared to let the townsfolk deal with the aftermath.

Margot groaned and pulled herself out of the debris the rest of the way. “Freddie?” She coughed out more dirt, some of it getting caught in her mouth on the way out.

She sent a health update request over to the Great Mother.

[SYSTEM: User Unknown’s Shell is currently 72%.

Companion’s Shell is currently 84%.]

A faint bleating came from the pile she’d emerged from. Margot reached into it. She shoved the broken pieces of roof away. If it weren’t for her leather gloves, her hands would’ve been full of scratches from the jagged tiles.

Freddie stared up at her, buried in the mess. Margot fit her arms around him as best as she could and pulled him out of the hole. He chirped as soon as he was free.

“That leaves that Hugh guy.”

“I’m right here,” he called out. “My arm’s stuck under some of the rubble. I thought you died!”

“It’d take more than that to kill me.” She knew that wasn’t exactly a true statement. Far lesser things had killed her before, but it felt like the sort of thing a seasoned adventure would say. “Here, I’ll help you out.”

Margot went over to where Hugh was lying down. A wooden log pinned his arm. Was that the support beam? Margot didn’t know how roof construction worked, and apparently neither did the builder. Either some Psi-enhanced arrows had ruined the roof, or the roof was doomed to fall from anything. A snow storm could’ve toppled it.

“Did I tell you that my name is Hugh?”

“Yeah, you did. Mine’s Margot and that’s Freddie.” She repeated their names just in case he’d forgotten theirs.

“Last name?”

“Hyland. Why?”

“It paints a fuller picture of who you are. It’s one thing for me to introduce myself as Hugh, and another thing for me to introduce myself as Hugh Darling, renowned actor.” There he was again, emphasizing the “tor” rather than pronouncing it with the subtler “ter” sound.

Margot pushed at the wood, trying to shove it off. She planted her feet for added leverage. It didn’t budge. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“That would be the fault of my former troupe. They’re scrubbing my name off of everything. I tell you, I put them on the map! The least they could do is thank me.”

“That sounds…unfortunate.” She switched angles and gave it another attempt.

“I’m in the process of rebuilding. They may have ousted me from our acting troupe, but I plan on proving to them that they will regret their decision.”

“Regret their decision, yeah,” Margot repeated to make it sound like she was listening. Finding a way to free him took up the majority of her focus.

“I saw your footwork against those goblins. You’re graceful, but I can tell that you’re inexperienced. You could use a trainer.”

That got Margot’s attention, full-on. “I’m not interested in any trainers.”

“Have you ever wanted to be famous?”

“Look, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“That question may have been a little too prying, I admit.” Hugh raised his free hand. “What I’m trying to say is that I think that you have what it takes. I wouldn’t expect you to be an actor like me, but a performance artist? Yes, you could do that. People would pay to see you and your little wyvern dance around with swords and green hellfire everywhere.”

“Do I look like a performance artist to you? Seriously, take a look at me.”

Margot hadn’t seen a comb in a long time. She had at least two layers of dirt on her, made worse by the crashed roof. Her eyes had to be bloodshot from the poor amount of sleep she’d been getting. For crying out loud, she’d been pooping in a bucket for the past week or so. She did not look anywhere close to a performance artist, whatever they were.

“Why, yes! You, Freddie, and I could be something of a dream team. You’ll earn plenty of Credits and gain experiences throughout the country like you never have before. I’ve got a horse and caravan stationed right outside of town. They wouldn’t let me park it inside,” Hugh said with a sigh.

“I’m here to fight for the GM, not perform for a bunch of people,” Margot said. “Help me out here. Can you move your arm in any way? Try pulling it as I push the log.”

“It’s alright. You can give up. I’ve already called one of those guardsmen over there for help. The important fellow with the brightest badge. I like his haircut.”

Margot kept her head down. “Is he looking over here?”

If Sheriff Barley caught her, she’d be done for.

“He’s tending to some of the other villagers. I imagine that I’m pretty low priority for him seeing how I’m not from Holliwell or this country for that matter,” Hugh replied. “You should really consider my offer. The Great Mother would smile upon it.”

“Pull your arm. I’m gonna shove this.” She rammed her shoulder into the wood. Hugh managed to dislodge his arm at the same time that the log moved. It rolled, coming to a bang of a stop against the front of the building.

Uh oh. That’d been loud. She scrambled to find her things in the ruin.

A familiar voice barked at her. “You! Don’t you move!”

Sheriff Barley’s face was bright pink in its anger. She locked eyes with him, her breath trapped in her throat. How was she supposed to get out of this?

Margot grabbed Hugh’s hand and helped him up to his feet. He yelped.

“Gentle! I’m an actor. I need this arm for acting,” he said.

“I’ll join your troupe. Take me to your caravan.”

“You will? But you haven’t heard me tell you about the contract. Every artist deserves a contract.”

“I don’t care.” Margot helped Freddie onto her shoulder. Spotting her sword, she picked it up and jammed it into her scabbard. She clutched her bag. “Let’s just get out of here. Hurry!”

She bolted off so he would get the point.

Hugh’s breaths came out in pants between his words as he raced to keep up with her. “I’m glad to see you so excited about the deal! You’re in for a treat.”

Margot spoke loudly to cover up the sheriff’s yelling. “Yes! I’m so excited that I can’t stop running! Let’s go faster, shall we?”

***

Their running took them down the path outside of town and off to the right towards elsewhere. Margot didn’t let them slow down in any way, even after she could no longer hear the sheriff’s shouts. She didn’t want to let up, not for a second.

Hugh was trailing behind, calling out directions to her. That was fine. If worst came to worst and they caught him, he could play the unsuspecting card and Margot would still be off on her merry way. Nothing bad would happen if they captured Hugh.

She was approaching her limit as far as running went.

“Take the left at the bend!” Hugh ordered.

Pressure filled Margot’s head. The forest blurred around her, becoming a series of green and brown smears. The early morning sun beamed down on them through the tree leaves. She felt its warmth through the holes in her clothes.

“Left at the bend,” she mumbled.

Then, she stumbled, all out of strength. Freddie cried out, clutching his talons into the epaulet to stay on.

“Maybe we should stop running?” Hugh asked once he caught up to her. He slicked back his hair, drenched with sweat at the front of it. “This isn’t good for my complexion. I’ll be taking this out of your paycheck.”

“Whatever.” Margot sat down. “Are we close to your caravan?” She gripped her sword’s handle. “If this is a trick…”

Hugh jumped. “It’s not a trick! We just need to pop out of this forest and get to the open field. I didn’t want to park it in the forest where it could get all muggy. That wouldn’t make much sense.”

“And yet an open field where anyone could find your caravan makes more sense to you?”

Margot didn’t know much about adventuring, but she had enough common sense not to leave precious cargo where anyone could show up and take it. She doubted that the Psionics out there had any scruples about thievery if it set them ahead in some way.

She was still bitter about that pair of scissors she’d lost in the Stronghold. How many Credits had Delwen and her gang sold it for? Five, maybe ten Credits if they were lucky?

“No one would trust in an acting troupe with a busted up caravan.” Hugh placed a hand onto his hip and wagged his finger. “It sounds like Hugh Darling has a lot to teach you, young Margot. Don’t worry, if there’s anything I am, it’s a good teacher.”

“What Level are you? Do you know anything about fighting?”

Hugh laughed at that. “I don’t like doing the whole fighting thing. And you should never up and ask somebody for their Level. That’s worse than asking them for their weight.”

Margot shrugged. “Are you above Level 4?” If he wasn’t, then it sounded like she’d be the one doing most of the work.

Hugh placed a finger to his lips and made a hushing sound.

Margot rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it. Just lead the way to the caravan when you’re ready. I’ve got some potions to take.”

Freddie hopped off her shoulder. She grabbed one of the small jars she’d bought from Daniel, cupped her hand, and splashed a bit onto her palm. Margot lathered the liquid into her skin, spreading it wherever she felt an ache.

“What in the golly are you doing?” Hugh asked.

“Taking the potion. What does is it look like I’m doing?”

“You drink those, not rub them into your skin. It’s not a beauty treatment.”

“This is what we do where I’m from.”

“That’s a different kind of potion. Read the label. Look at the color of it. Burgundy Dreams,” Hugh said. “Everyone knows that you drink those. I will warn you that it’s bitter going down. Say farewell to your taste buds.”

Margot raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?” She checked the label, and sure enough the pip was right. “Yeah, you’re serious.” She only drank potions when she suffered mouth-related injuries, like a bad tooth or a split lip. Having to ingest it felt so backwards. Holliwell must’ve been sourcing their potions from a different herbal strain.

The world outside of Patchwork Town was a strange place.

She knocked back some of the potion and winced. Margot tapped Freddie under his chin to get him to open up enough to sip some. He spat it out at first, but then through Margot’s gentle urging, swallowed some of the offensive liquid.

Margot double-checked their Shell percentages.

[SYSTEM: User Unknown’s Shell is currently 78% and healing...

Companion’s Shell is currently 89% and healing...

Healing accelerated due to Potion.]

Once their percentages crawled upwards to 100%, Margot and Freddie followed Hugh’s lead. He took them outside of the forest.

Unhampered by the trees, the sun was out in full, casting its rays across the valley. Caught up in a gust of wind, the grass swayed. Margot wanted to prance through it, to roll up her pants legs and let the soft green blades tickle her.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to cartwheel through nature and roll around with Freddie, to leap through the air in a celebratory cheer. Being behind bars lent her a new appreciation for the lushness of the grass and the sun’s heat. Had the skies always held such a captivating shade of blue?

If she cared less about looking like a fool in front of Hugh, she would have rolled through the dirt.

Freddie had no such problem. He rubbed his face against the ground as he babbled a cheery tune.

Margot breathed in deep, taking in everything that the field had to offer.

Hugh’s high-pitched scream ripped her out of her reverie.

Freddie stopped his rolling and sat up to shoot Hugh a glare that matched Margot’s.

“My caravan’s gone! Somebody must’ve stolen it!” Hugh framed his face in his hands.

Margot gritted her teeth. “Is this some acting thing? You never had a caravan, did you?”

“I had one with a white horse and everything. His name was Philippe. Philippe, where are you?”

“Well, I told you that parking in an open field didn’t make any sense. Look at what happened to you.”

“Oh, have a heart, Margot Hyland. Please have a heart.”

“I’m gonna get going. To be honest with you, I was only hanging around so we could do some fast traveling with that caravan, but seeing as how you don’t have a caravan and might not ever have a caravan, I don’t need to hang around here anymore. C’mon, Freddie.” Margot leaned down to pick Freddie up.

He swished his tail at her, moving outside of her reach.

“If it’s adventures that you seek, adventures you will find,” Hugh said, leaning up on his tippy toes.

Margot eyed his pointy shoes. “Yeah, I’m seeking them. See you later.” She should’ve said never.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to stay with me. Even if you don’t want to act or be a performance artist in any way, you could still be my bodyguard. I’ve lost my caravan. Traveling is only going to be harder for me from this point on. Freddie could do the performing.” Hugh clasped his hands together and held them out in front of him. “I think that we can help each other in many ways. Don’t leave without taking that into consideration.”

“How can you possibly help me?”

“Credits and Experience Points. Trouble always seems to find me. If you stick to me, you’ll be kept busy.”

“I thought you pips were supposed to be lucky. What made you want to leave your homeland anyway?”

“Pipland was too small for a pip like me. I mean that figuratively and literally,” he said with a smile. “I was always tall for my age and people got jealous of me for that. Then, I got bit by the acting bug. I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore. I’d outgrown everything.”

“Interesting.”

Hugh was at least a foot shorter than Margot was.

“And may I ask where you’re from?” Hugh asked.

“Patchwork Town. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“That’s where the Brandson Theater is. I’ve never performed there myself, but I’ve seen it in the theater papers. I can’t say I know much about Patchwork Town, but if everyone there is anything like you, I’m sure they’d eat me alive.” Hugh gave her another smile.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

Hugh nodded vigorously. “Please don’t take offense to it. I’m a bit of a jokester, you see. It’s part of my charm.”

Margot sighed. It wasn’t like she had a mission beyond getting stronger and coming back to Patchwork Town eventually. He was right. It actually wouldn’t hurt to accompany him. Moreover, there were benefits from it. He could give her insight into Psionic culture and help her navigate NPC/RPC differences.

It was unfortunate that he wasn’t much of a fighter, but for now she could deal with that.

She held out her hand for him to shake.

Hugh prodded a finger into her palm. “Does this mean that you’re saying yes?”

“You’ve got it.”

Margot hoped she wouldn’t regret tagging along with Hugh Darling, the supposedly well-renowned actor from Pipland.

Chapter 18

“Okay, I’ll concede to sword swallowing as being real, but people who swallow frogs and spit them back out? There’s no way,” Margot said.

“I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. We had a frog swallower in our troupe. People can do it.”

“Just because people can do it doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

Margot, Freddie, and Hugh had been traveling together for the past couple of days. Without a caravan and horse, their journey was slow going. Only having one and a half potions for the three of them meant they had to exercise caution.

It helped that the monsters in the field were as cautious as they were. They lacked the confidence that the forest creatures possessed, often choosing to ran away rather than fight. Some of them burrowed into the ground in an effort to escape.

For once, Margot had to play hunter instead of the hunted. The feeling was, she had to admit, empowering.

According to Hugh, there was a town somewhere in the middle of the open field. The problem was that the only map they had was the one of the Nightshade Forest, which was entirely irrelevant for the open field they were travelling through. Margot let Freddie use it as a crispy blanket.

The trio took a break in their travels. Margot watched out for approaching monsters while Freddie and Hugh laid in the grass. She held her hand over her eyes to shield out the sun.

“Perhaps we can teach Freddie how to do it,” Hugh said, not letting go of the frog swallowing subject.

Margot gagged. “No, no, and no.”

There were times when she tasted what he did. She wasn’t going to chance experiencing the shared sensation of gulping down a live frog, squeezing it up the esophagus, and spitting it out.

“You could also do it with a fish,” Hugh said.

“Why don’t you do it if you’re so obsessed with it?”

“Because I am an actor.” He never failed to stress the last syllable in the word.

Margot was going to chide him some more but she spotted something in the distance. Three somethings, actually. There was an overturned cart, someone crawling on the ground, and what looked like a tiny goblin stalking towards them.

“Dammit,” Margot said. “We’ve got to get over there and help.”

Hugh popped up to see what she was talking about. “Oh, my!”

“Hey! Over here!” Margot shouted. She shoved her bag at Hugh. “Hold this. I’ve gotta run. Up, up, Freddie.” She bent down so he could climb up her arm to her shoulder, then started running as soon as he was on his perch.

Now, she was especially glad that she had put points into Poise. She waved her arms to get the small goblin’s attention. Its focus stayed on the crawling figure.

Getting closer, Margot could see that the person was a woman with long, frizzy hair. She could make out the silent scream on her face and the blunt, well-scuffed shoes she wore. If she was a merchant, then she wasn’t doing well for herself. She’d always recognized the merchants in Patchwork Town by their extravagant footwear.

“Freddie, fire!” Margot commanded.

Freddie unleashed a Poison Breath attack that knocked the goblin thing over. Margot whipped out her sword, the blade making a shing sound as she brandished it.

The goblin got to its knees, its curved sword held in both hands. It was an unusual goblin wearing a blue-feathered cap. Its shoes were in a far better shape than the woman’s, and it cut a sharp figure in its dandy-looking clothes.

The crawling woman fainted.

Margot allowed the monster to run at her. It attempted a downward slash. Margot deflected it. She twirled to the right, staying on the goblin’s side. The goblin spun to follow her. It arced its weapon to hit her in the back.

A miss.

She continued her rotations. Margot twitched, feigning like she was going to hit his right side, but switched to his left at the last moment. Disoriented, the goblin’s next swing whiffed through the air. Empty.

Margot had more luck. Her sword sliced the monster’s green arm.

It howled, then drove its blade towards her.

Margot leaned out of the way, the tip grazing her.

Face to face with the goblin, Freddie let out a great bellow of his Poison Breath attack.

The goblin took it head-on.

Margot thrust her sword into the goblin’s chest, going straight through its clothes with ease.

Dead.

[SYSTEM: You have gained 25 XP!]

Satisfied, Margot kicked the goblin’s lifeless form off of her weapon.

“Take that, goblin,” she said, for lack of a better victory quote.

“Actually, that was an imp,” Hugh said.

“When did you get here?”

“Right at the end. Nice footwork, by the way. It looks like our dance training is paying off for you. Now…what’s going on with her?” He gestured to the unconscious woman.

Margot examined her toppled-over cart. There wasn’t anything on it. “She’s probably a seller who got caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“My word, that’s a nice hat,” Hugh remarked. He reached for it and plucked it off of the imp. “Please, Great Mother, please let me have this hat.”

“It’s not good to take things before she gets a chance to take them herself,” Margot said. “You’re not supposed to disturb the bodies.”

“I always thought you were supposed to claim them, and hope that you did enough to earn it. She’ll make it disappear if she doesn’t want you to have it.”

“Things are different in Pipland, then. Here, we leave them alone, nice hat or not.”

The woman stirred. She muttered something to herself, her eyes roaming around.

“Hello? Are you alright?” Margot asked. “The imp’s dead. We killed it for you.”

The woman glanced at the imp’s corpse, then sat up. Her bottom lip quivered. She squeezed her hand through her messy hair. “I thought I’d be a goner. Thank you so much.”

“Where are you headed to?”

“Vansen.”

Hugh’s eyes lit up. “What a coincidence! We’re going there, too.”

Were they? Hugh had failed to mention the town they were looking for by name.

The woman eased herself off of the ground. She gripped the edge of the cart. Margot helped her to get it back upright.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m on a bit of a deadline. Normally I wouldn’t be so foolish to go across the open field alone, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I’ve got a train to catch.”

“Vansen has a train?” Margot couldn’t contain her excitement. Trains were something she’d only ever read about. They were intricate machines full of gears that moved across rail systems. Psionic engineers often drove them. She’d read all about them in a magazine before, but admittedly, the article had been more flash than substance.

She grasped Hugh’s sleeve and said, “Hugh, we’ve got to see that train.”

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you look so happy about something. Now, Miss, I know you’ve got some place to be, and I know that you’re on a deadline, but would you mind doing us a favor and viewing our star-studded performance? If you like it or are entertained by it in any way, I recommend you give us a tip. We’re traveling artists, you see, and we could really use the Credits to support our endeavors. We’re going to be performing in Vansen.”

“At the theater there?” The woman asked, leaning against her cart.

“In the streets,” Hugh said. “We want to give back to the people.”

Margot groaned. “She said she has to be somewhere. Do we have to do this?”

“Yes, Margot. This is what we live for, the joy of performing to anyone that we come across. We cannot pass up this moment, no, no, no. Get into position.”

Margot wanted to apologize to the woman for what she was about to witness. “Freddie, it’s time to dance.” She set him on the ground so he could do his thing.

She and Hugh stood behind Freddie, Freddie being the tip of the triangular formation. They gave him enough space to make sure that he was front and center as the star of their performance.

Margot and Hugh placed their hands behind their backs and adopted Freddie’s wide legged stance.

Hugh provided the background music, singing a lively, upbeat tune.

Freddie shuffled his feet, kicking up the dirt as he made his strides. Margot and Hugh copied him, staying in sync as Freddie spun around. He wiggled his tail, which meant that Margot had to die of embarrassment as she wiggled her backside at some random woman. Then, Freddie jumped in place, landed, ducked down low, and carried on shuffling his feet to the beat of Hugh’s song.

After a few more torturous spins, the performance was over.

The woman laughed. She clapped. “That was great. Thank you. Do you call it dragon dancing?”

“Wyvern dancing,” Margot mumbled, not wanting to look the woman in the eyes.

“Was it a great enough performance for you to toss a few Credits our way?” Hugh tried.

“I’d like to pay you, but not for that. I’d like to ask you if it would be possible if you could escort me to the train station. I’m afraid that there might be more imps coming my way,” she said.

“And who would we escorting exactly?” Margot asked.

She didn’t know what it was about their performance that made the woman want to hire them. If Margot had been in her place, she would’ve paid them not to ever do it again.

“Theodora Michaels, merchant from Rosenberg.”

“Rosenberg’s quite a ways away from here,” Hugh said. “Is that where you’re taking the train to?”

“That’s right. I’ve got to deliver this cart there.” Theodora tapped it. Something about the sound rang hollow, like the cart wasn’t as solid as Margot thought. That may have just been her imagination, though.

“And how much do you plan on paying us?” Margot asked the important question.

“1000 Credits to be split among you as you wish.”

“Sold. We’re helping you.”

Hugh screamed.

Margot withdrew her sword on reflex. “What?”

“The Great Mother let me keep the hat.” Hugh popped it onto his head. “I’ve got great feelings about this. Theodora, you’re in great hands. And you know it’s going to be great because I said great so many times.”

Margot hoped that statement would hold true.

***

Her hopes were tested when an imp snuck up on them that night.

Everyone was supposed to be resting, save for Hugh who was being their look-out. Margot couldn’t get to sleep. Something about Theodora’s presence kept her on the edge. She didn’t want to turn her back on her and wind up getting robbed or worse. She’d built up the necessary Favor to respawn—that she was mostly confident about—but that wouldn’t matter if Theodora killed her and camped her spawn point.

Margot’s paranoia served her well. It was the reason why she was able to roll up and tackle the imp as it got its grubby little hands on the cart.

Its leg kicked out as it fell over, its steel-tipped boot breaking through the side of the cart. Margot wrestled the monster down, using all of her weight to pin it.

Woken from his slumber, Freddie hopped his way over.

Margot slammed the flat of her hand against the imp’s throat.

The well-dressed goblin-looking thing croaked, “The cart!”

Freddie stepped over to them. He leaned in.

“What’s that about the cart?” Margot asked.

The imp clutched at her wrist. She lifted her hand away, still keeping the imp under her.

Freddie chomped his jaws into the imp’s neck before Margot could call him off.

“Dammit,” Margot swore. “Let go!”

[SYSTEM: You have gained 25 XP!

Congratulations! You have leveled up!]

His kill kicked them over the edge into Level 5. She had 3 Ability Points and 3 Skill Points to spend. The combination of all the hunting she’d done in the open field and the imp fighting had done the trick.

“Hugh!” Margot called.

“I’ve got her,” he returned back.

Hugh held the tip of Margot’s straight sword close to Theodora’s neck. An unfortunate slip-up would cut her open. Theodora sat on the ground, a sour expression on her face.

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” Theodora said.

“I caught her trying to steal this,” Hugh said, indicating Margot’s weapon. “She picked it up from where you were sleeping. Do you have an explanation for that?”

“I was trying to get it to her,” Theodora hissed. “I was helping.”

“Why’d you let them get anywhere near us?” Margot had questions for Hugh, as well.

“I… I dozed off a little. But when I came to, Theodora looked like she was itching to steal from us. Conveniently, she chose to do so when the imp showed up.”

Margot sighed. “Hugh, don’t let her out of your sight.” She wasn’t sure who to believe. She hardly knew Theodora, but her statements didn’t sound like total lies. They made sense.

But she was pissed off at Hugh for his incompetence. The imp shouldn’t have gotten close to them in the first place. Because of that, Margot hesitated to back Hugh up. She decided to stay out of that and focused her attention on a different issue.

Theodora gawked at her. “This is preposterous. I don’t deserve being treated this way. What did I do that was so wrong?”

“What’s in the cart? Why do the imps want it so much?” Since they had her at literal sword point, Margot figured this would be the perfect opportunity for an interrogation.

“It’s a delivery.”

Margot clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You know that wasn’t a good answer, right? I asked you what’s in the cart. Don’t be vague with me.”

Theodora grimaced. “Documents. You can look at them yourself.”

“They must be pretty important documents if you’re trucking them all the way to Vansen. What would the imps want with them?”

“They must be hired goons,” Theodora said. “I don’t know whose. I’m just the one that they sent to deliver the blueprints, okay? I don’t know anything else.”

Hugh’s eyebrows shot up. “It sounds like there’s something going on here. See, Margot, I told you I have a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Who is ‘they?’ You need to start explaining yourself better. If I have to keep pulling information out of you like this…”

“Okay! They call themselves the Black Gold Group. They’re not a guild. They’re more like a company, something underground.”

“She’s lying. Push the sword closer to her. Nick her if you have to,” Margot said, tone flat.

“Wait!” Theodora cried. “They forced me to help them. If I don’t get these papers to whoever is waiting for them in Vansen, my family’s as good as dead. They, they picked me out because they said something about, um…”

“I don’t like that um you just did.”

“Because none of the Moderators hanging out around Vansen would know me. That’s why! All I have to do is hand these papers off to someone that’s waiting there for me. Then I take the train back over to Rosenberg and I can see my family again.”

“I think it’s bizarre that they’d make you haul this cart all the way over there,” Margot said. “Why not a folder or a backpack?”

“I don’t know why. Maybe they wanted me to look like a merchant? I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Just…just please put the sword down,” Theodora pleaded.

Hugh said, “I think she might be telling the truth, Margot. I don’t think she knows anything more than that. She’s starting to cry.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time somebody’s lied to me. A girl back in Holliwell begged me to find her lost dog. It turned out she was a liar who led me into a trap. I’m not going through that again,” Margot said. “Hand me the sword, Hugh. I’ll take it from here.”

“Please!” Theodora begged.

Freddie nipped at Margot’s ankle. She winced.

“I’m an actor, Margot. I know when people are acting. It’s an ‘it takes one to know one’ type of situation,” he said. “I can tell you with confidence that Theodora truly doesn’t know what’s going on. She’s a poor, unfortunate woman caught up in a bad situation.”

“You don’t think it’s suspicious that they sent her from wherever she was across this open field to get to Vansen? Where’s her support? Why are there a bunch of imps coming out of nowhere for these blueprints? What’s up with all of that?”

“I had support,” Theodora said, “until he left. I was supposed to be handed off to the next person. Everything happens in a chain. You said the secret phrase so I thought it was you.”

Margot slapped her forehead. “So that means that people from the Black Gold Group are looking for you. Great. What was the secret phrase?”

“We want to give back to the people,” she said. “I was supposed to hear that and then play along in case anyone was watching. I had to pretend like we didn’t know each other in any way.

“That’s why I made the 1000 Credits offer, even though I knew you would get far more from the Black Gold Group.” Theodora squeezed her eyes shut and looked away. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know why you won’t believe me.”

“The luck of the pip!” Hugh tipped his newly acquired feathered hat. “It looks like we really are a part of something special here. Margot, I say that we help Theodora get to Vansen.”

“What? There are people out there looking for her. We should dump her,” Margot said.

“Not where the imps could get her. Please don’t lose that heart you’re beginning to grow.”

“I have a heart and a brain, too. They’re both in working order.”

Theodora’s bottom lip trembled. “Please, I only have so long to get there. I can’t miss the deadline.”

Margot tensed her shoulders. Freddie placed his foot on top of her boot.

Everything in her gut told her that this was a bad idea, that she shouldn’t trust Hugh’s judge of character.

But… On the off-chance that everything Theodora was saying was true, she couldn’t not help her. Not when other people’s lives were at stake. Margot didn’t want to be indirectly responsible for Theodora and her family’s deaths.

“Fine. We’ll get you to Vansen. But there has to be more than 1000 Credits in it for us,” Margot said.

“Margot,” Hugh said.

“What?”

“Don’t you think she’s gone through enough? You can drop the rough and tough act now.”

Theodora said, “it’s fine. When this is all over… I have some information for you. I overheard it after the Black Gold Group captured me. They thought I was asleep, but I heard everything they said. I’ll tell you what I know as long as you can get me to Vansen. It’ll be worth your while.”

“Tell me what it is,” Margot said, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s a treasure worth more than 1000 Credits. I can’t tell you more than that.”

Margot wished Theodora would say more than that, but she understood why she wanted to keep quiet.

“Lower the sword, Hugh. We’ll leave in the morning, as long as you think it’s okay to wait a couple of hours for the sun. Traveling is dangerous in the dark,” Margot said.

“Yes, that should be fine as long as we leave at the crack of dawn,” Theodora said.

“I’ll take over watch. Freddie will stay with you guys.”

“Okay, boss.” Hugh gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was some other emotion mixed in there that blocked it out. A bit of hesitation or apprehension? It reminded Margot of the way Lucille had looked at her after she threatened to snap their father’s wrist.

Maybe Hugh had caught on that she wasn’t quite acting when she decided to get rough with the interrogation, that that had been something she was naturally capable of. If he’d been truthful when he said he could see through people’s acting, he would’ve realized that about her.

Her power trip dizzied her. It got her heart racing in a way that made her question herself.

Was her assertiveness something she was supposed to be ashamed of?

Flexing her strength… Showing her dominance…

Margot rarely got to take advantage of being powerful like that. In her normal everyday life, she had to keep her head down and put up with bullshit. No fighting back against her parents’ punishments. Holding her tongue whenever Psionics insulted her ilk. Pretending to be okay with the Great Mother’s silence. Dying hundreds of times over the years, because that was what she was created for.

She never wanted to be that weak again. She couldn’t go back to being that person.

Margot needed to be alone, to think.

Chapter 19

Before Margot went to sleep she made sure to take care of her Skill and Ability Point allocation. Thinking that more traveling would be in store for her in the future, she decided to throw 1 point into Neutral Power to help her endurance, 1 point into her Neutral Poise to help Freddie with his Flight skill, and the last point into Neutral Psi.

Hopefully, an extra point in Neutral Psi would lessen the headaches she got whenever she interfaced with the Great Mother’s network. She knew that it would be helpful for her Hypnogenesis skill, as well.

After that, she used her 3 Skill Points to purchase the following skill:

[SKILL: Flight (Wyvern): Allows the wyvern Companion to gain the muscle power necessary for flight. Flight power is dependent on skill level. At higher levels, improvements in distance and height maintenance can be seen. Relies on Companion’s stamina.

Type: Active/Companion

Primary Reliance: Neutral Power, Neutral Poise

Prerequisite: Tamer (Wyvern Specialty)

Cost: 3 SP]

Margot reviewed her current statistics menu.

[Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 5

XP: 0/576

Credits: 45

Shell: 100%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 3

Defensive: 3

Neutral: 2

Psi

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 2

Poise

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 4

Neutral: 2

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty): Unlocks the Tamer skill tree and grants the Tamer talent.

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Tamer to the Companion.

Second Sight: When activated, the Tamer sees through the vision of the Companion and vice versa.

Hypnogenesis: Induces target into Sleep state by skin and eye contact.]

Then, she took a look at Freddie’s Skills menu:

[Skills —

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Companion to the Tamer.

Venomous Bite: Leaks venom into melee bite attack. Causes Poisoned effect for a very short period of time.

Second Sight: When activated, the Companion sees through the vision of the Tamer and vice versa.

Poison Breath: Generates a visible toxikinetic energy-infused stream of air. Deals damage and inflicts Poisoned effect.

Flight: Allows the Companion to fly.]

Margot took a break, her analysis bringing waves of nausea crashing over her. Increasing her Neutral Psi hadn’t curbed her queasiness. She was still a glitch through and through, and her nausea could have been symptomatic of that. The GM didn’t want to make her life easy.

It wasn’t until Hugh commented on it, later on at the start of their walk, that Margot noticed something different about Freddie.

“He’s buff,” Hugh said.

“He’s always been buff,” Margot said.

Theodora didn’t say anything, probably because she was still bitter about the interrogation shakedown. Margot couldn’t blame her.

“No, I mean look at his chest and back. He’s got muscles.”

Margot scooped up Freddie and held him under his wingpits. Freddie cooed at her, his eyes sparkling from getting to see her up close. Sure enough, Hugh was correct. Adding the Flight Skill modified Freddie’s appearance.

“I bought him something so he can fly,” Margot said.

Hugh squealed. “That’s going to help us so much on our road show! Good job picking that out. Our audience is going to be mesmerized.”

“It wasn’t for the road show exactly…”

“Don’t tell me you plan on flying off with him. He’s our money maker.”

“I don’t think he could carry me yet. I don’t even know if he knows how to fly, come to think of it. He has the skill, but that’s different from knowing what to do with it.”

What was it that mother birds did to their young? They shoved them out of the nest or something and then the little birdies just happened to take flight.

Or, they failed and wound up as splats on the ground. Nothing as bad as that would happen to Freddie at this height, so the mother bird thing was worth a try. If Flight was like any of their other skills, then Freddie would need to concentrate on flying to activate it.

“Fly, Freddie, fly!” Margot tossed him like he was a dove.

He squawked and crash-landed like a rock. She cringed, feeling the rash from the dirt as he skidded across it.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Theodora said under her breath.

“What was that?” Margot asked, her hand moving to her straight sword.

“You shouldn’t toss your baby around like that,” Theodora said, eyes meeting Margot’s. “Why did you think that would work?”

“Because I bought the Skill for it. You’re a Non-Psionic. Don’t act like you know anything about it.” Margot went over to retrieve Freddie. He glared at her, not letting her pick him up again. She played off the moment by brushing her hands over her sleeves.

“I know that you should treat your animal better,” Theodora said.

Hugh stepped between them. “So! Vansen, right? I think it’s that way.”

“Yeah.” Margot didn’t know what had come over her or where those words had come from in the first place. What was she doing, acting like she was so much better than Theodora? Being a Psionic must’ve been getting to her head.

She leaned down so Freddie could climb her arm to get to her epaulet.

Once Freddie made it to his perching spot, he nipped at her ear. Margot jumped, startled. If it wasn’t for the point she threw into her coordination, she might’ve stumbled in surprise. That would’ve sent Freddie crashing for the second time in less than two minutes.

“Sorry, Theodora, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that,” Margot said. “Let’s blame our little spat on some early morning crankiness, okay? Let’s get going before any more of those imps show up.”

Theodora grunted in response. Margot didn’t push her to accept her apology.

The group set off. Margot volunteered to push the cart while Theodora led the way and Hugh took up the rear. Freddie swiveled his head around, staying on sharp look-out for any approaching enemies or monsters. He rolled his shoulders.

Margot still didn’t like the uncertainty of what they were heading into. Interrogating Theodora had left her queasy and unsettled for more reasons than just her power trip.

They were barely an hour into walking when Freddie screeched his warning call.

Four imps were coming their way from across the field. It wouldn’t be long until they caught up. Running away wasn’t an option, not with that cart they were hauling. If they did that, eventually, the imps would catch up and grab those blueprints.

“Hide behind the cart with Freddie,” Margot said to Theodora. “C’mon, Hugh. I’m going to need your help.”

Margot banked on the hope that Theodora wouldn’t dare try to cross Freddie in any way. Hugh, she might’ve considered messing with, but Freddie? No way.

Theodora nodded and ducked behind the cart.

“I can’t do any fighting,” Hugh said, “I’m—”

“An actor. I get it. Just c’mon. You have to be able to fight. You’re a Psionic, so act like one.”

He grumbled about it, but he followed Margot. Margot didn’t want to fight the imps close to the cart in case one of them slipped by her. It was better to meet them partway. Straight sword drawn, Margot stared down her approaching opponents.

The imps had twin daggers, one in each hand. Like the other imps, their clothes were as refined as a high-class merchant’s. As far as Margot knew, monsters didn’t adhere to social hierarchies like that. Most of the monsters she’d seen were barbaric, brutish. If they had clothes, they were rough and threadbare.

These imps were something else.

Margot went on the offensive. She led with her shoulder first, keeping her body at an angle. Then, she moved past her target, slashing out with her sword as she passed it by.

The monster deflected with its dagger, but failed to otherwise move.

Now behind it, Margot turned and cut a swift line into the monster’s back. Dark blood gushed from the wound, spraying onto her. She tasted it on her lips.

The bleeding imp swung for her, its wild arm movement telegraphed ahead of the time. She knew where the strike would come from before it neared her.

Margot stepped to the side, ducking down. The imp’s other dagger came for her. She leaned back to avoid it.

Not far enough. The blade pierced her. The split skin on her arm stung.

There wasn’t time to survey the damage. Margot slammed her sword towards the top of the imp’s head. It bent at the knees, weaving its head out of the way in time. It aimed it twin daggers at Margot’s stomach.

Margot brought her arm down to block them.

The blades went through. They stuck in her arm, in one side and out the other. Gritting her teeth, Margot kicked at the imp’s knee.

The imp staggered back, now weaponless. She glanced down at her ruined arm, at the daggers lanced through it. Her body shivered. Her sword fell from her other hand. The imp took that confusion as an opportunity to charge at her, fist cocked back.

She threw out her bladed arm.

The imp stepped in to hit her.

Margot slammed her arm into the side of its neck. The imp’s eyes flared open wide, the blades going through its throat. Margot ripped her arm away, daggers and all, and shoved the dead imp’s body over. Blood sprayed out from the killing blow.

A second imp appeared to take that one’s place in the fight. Margot stumbled and grabbed her sword from the ground. The imp went on the offensive first. It rushed in, daggers out to stab her. Margot pivoted to dodge its swings.

A blade caught the edge of her shirt. She was tiring, slowing down. Her flightiness wore on her. Margot raised her sword to block. A deadlock, two blades pushing against hers. Applied pressure from her enemy, and her straight sword was knocked out of her hand.

Margot bashed her fist into the imp’s head. That knocked it backwards. Before it could recover, Margot crashed her blade arm into its skull. The daggers scraped bone as she pulled her arm free. Wet matter splattered over her.

She let the imp’s body drop.

“We’ve got a runner!” Hugh cried.

Chest heaving as she struggled to take in breaths, Margot’s eyes snapped over to the escapee. The last imp—it looked like Hugh had taken care of the third—was still racing to the cart. Her vision hazing at the sides, Margot hoped that Freddie would be able to finish it off. He was their last line of defense.

Hugh crouched by the imp he’d downed. He laid his hands over it. It shrunk to the size of a small dog. Margot blinked, not sure if what she was seeing was the result of post-fight delirium or something else.

The imp’s clothes pooled around its much smaller body. He raised it above his head, brought it back over his shoulders, and hurled it at the retreating imp. A clap of his hands and the flying imp returned to full size in time to land on top of the other one. They were both wiped out from that.

Hugh laughed.

“What was that?” Margot asked. Why had he been keeping something like that to himself this whole time?

“Size manipulation,” Hugh explained. “I may be an actor, but we pips have secrets up our sleeves.” The smile on his face dropped as soon as he laid eyes on Margot. “My goodness! Are you alright?”

“Most of the blood isn’t mine,” Margot said. She gripped her upper arm, trying to make something of a tourniquet. Her wounds pulsed, begging for the blades to be removed. She knew she would bleed out if she did that. Logic and reason battled against the part of her brain that wanted immediate relief. Pulling them out would only make things worse.

“Drink a potion for goodness’ sake!” Hugh covered his eyes. “How can you stand there bleeding like that? It’s disgusting.”

“I’m going to need something to wrap it with. Those Holliwell potions are shit. You can go back to the cart since you’re so squeamish.”

“The imps that I fought, I don’t think that they’re dead. I only knocked them out, so be careful of them waking up. We should get moving as soon as you’re ready.”

“I’ll finish them off when I’m done. You can go now.” It was getting harder and harder to speak like this without wanting to rip Hugh’s head off. It wasn’t his fault. It was the pain getting to her.

He wished her good luck, said he was sorry, and then left for the cart.

[SYSTEM: Companion is requesting viewpoint access through the usage of the Second Sight skill. Do you accept this request? It will cost Psyche to run.]

Margot denied the request. She needed Freddie to keep watching over things back at the cart.

She sat down and got to work on her arm. Margot reached into her bag. She pulled out the potions, one partial bottle and one full one. Next, she took out two shirts. She bit into the first one, to use it to cover her screams. The other, she planned on using as a wrap.

As annoying as the Great Mother’s system messages were, they became Margot’s anchor to reality as she experienced one of the most painful things she had ever gone through.

Every inch of the dagger that slid out forced a muffled scream out of her. The damage sent her elsewhere, taking her to a hollow zone where she became the weapons wiggling out of her flesh and bone. There was nothing to her other than that. She floated in its intensity, practically swimming in it.

Pain and only pain surrounded her.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Additional Shell damage occurring due to Bleeding effect.]

[SYSTEM: Warning! You are taking Bleed damage.]

Margot swallowed the potions. She threw the empty bottles hard enough for them to shatter wherever they landed. She didn’t bother to track their trajectory. What would the point in that be?

She wrapped the shirt around her arm tightly.

When she checked for the twin daggers from where she’d laid them out, she found an open space where they should’ve been. The Great Mother hadn’t allowed her to keep them.

And yet, she had let Hugh keep that stupid hat.

“Bitch.”

***

Needless to say, Margot wasn’t feeling particularly chatty when she returned to the group. That ordeal had drained her. If it weren’t for sheer force of will, Margot Hyland would’ve stayed in the grass and told Hugh to take Theodora to Vansen by himself.

Freddie helped her out by nipping her in the ear whenever she became too sluggish. That kept her from passing out.

“We can take a break if you need one,” Hugh said.

“No,” Margot said. She had plenty of reasons to protest his suggestion, but she lacked the strength to voice them.

For one, she didn’t believe that Hugh would be able to do it on his own. Yes, he’d revealed his random Psionic skill out of nowhere, but he was still the person she confused for a little boy back in that attack on Holliwell. Any moment, he could revert back to his actor thing and conveniently forget about his Psi power.

Most importantly, she didn’t want to rest and delay the group any further. The potions were slow-acting, the holes in her skin itching as they healed over. Eventually, her arm would stop feeling so numb and she’d be able to move it to its fullest ability.

At least the bleeding had stopped.

Sitting around waiting for the potion to finish was a waste of everyone’s time.

“Theodora, I kindly recommend you give us a bonus for what young Margot had to go through,” Hugh said. “She’s beat!”

“No,” Margot said the only word she still had the energy to say.

The only bonus Margot wanted at this point was to get Theodora and her cart and those secret documents over to the people that wanted them in one piece. She wanted Theodora happily reunited with her family. Most of all, she wanted to be done with this unofficial quest. That’d be more than enough for Margot.

She found her thoughts drifting over to her sister. How would Lucille have fared in all of this? Those imps would’ve killed her. She would’ve been as effective as Theodora, meaning not at all.

Still, despite the truth in her assessment, she couldn’t help but to think that things would’ve been better with Lucille around. Not that they were horrifically horrible to begin with, but maybe she would’ve avoided her stint in jail and her near amputation. Those twin daggers could’ve taken her arm off.

“Person spotted,” Hugh announced. “Do you recognize him, Theodora? Is he from the Black Gold Group?”

“I’ve never seen him before. He might just be passing us by.”

“No, he definitely looks like he’s interested in talking to us.”

Hugh had been kind enough to take over pushing the cart along. That bettered Margot’s view of him. The ease at which he was able to push the cart at his size intrigued Margot. What could his Talent be, and why was he so intent on keeping it a secret?

“He could be from the Group,” Theodora said, her voice quiet. “You need to act like you don’t know me.”

“That’ll be easy. We don’t know you.” Hugh flashed her grin. “I’m an actor. You can trust me to play this role like I was born for it.”

They kept the cart moving until they were shoulder to shoulder with the stranger. He was dressed in a leather jerkin with an elaborate pattern cut into the front. He wasn’t wearing any weapons that Margot could see. His shoes, brittle-looking sandals, seemed ill-suited for the environment. They looked like they were cutting into his ankles.

Margot leaned against the cart for support. Freddie pressed his cheek against hers to keep her awake.

“Are you selling any wares?” the man asked.

“I’m sorry, I’m out of stock right now.” Theodora bowed her head. “I’m trying to get to Vansen so I can restock.”

“Vansen? I’m from there.” The man shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable in his shoes.

Margot clenched her jaw.

The man asked, “Is this your family?”

“Oh no, we’re fellow travelers,” Hugh said. “We came across her on the road and offered to help her get to Vansen. We like giving back to the people, if you understand what I mean.”

“I don’t think I follow,” the man replied.

Margot took in a deep breath.

“Helping people, giving back to the people, paying it forward to the people. That’s the sort of people that we are.” Hugh gestured to himself and Margot.

Freddie squawked at him.

Theodora pushed a hand through her hair, fighting through the tangles as she went. “I’m sorry that I don’t have anything left to sell you.”

“Are the two of you headed to Vansen, too?” the man asked.

“Only to help this young merchant get there,” Hugh said.

“I like to give back to the people, too. I know a group back in Vansen that’s all about that.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “I can help her get there. I don’t mind taking her the rest of the way.”

“But aren’t you heading the opposite way from Vansen?” Hugh asked.

“I realized I forgot something,” he replied. He eyed Margot. “Is she okay?”

Margot would’ve nodded if she didn’t think it would’ve triggered a dizzy spell.

“She doesn’t know the language,” Hugh said. “Well, since you like giving back to people, I suppose I can leave her in your safe hands.”

Theodora scrunched up her eyebrows. “Do you know what the weather is like in Vansen?”

“It’s always sunny.”

Theodora smiled, a look of relief passing over her features. “That sounds great. I suppose I’ll be seeing the two of you, well, the three of you…never. Here, I have the Credits I promised you for your help. It’s not the full amount, since you didn’t bring me to Vansen on your own, but this should do.”

She fished into her pocket for the coins.

Hugh held his hand out for them, but Theodora ignored him. She went over to Margot. Margot cupped her hands to accept them, the coins clinking together. Theodora pressed a piece of paper over the Credits before closing Margot’s hands together.

“Best of travels to you both,” Theodora said.

Margot wondered if she should have fought the man. That serious wound she’d taken from the imp’s daggers had dampened her fighting spirit for the time being. In a small way, though, she was glad to be relieved of her duty to the Black Gold Group.

Now she and Hugh were free to carry on with their own adventure through the open fields. Margot refrained from reminding Theodora that they’d planned on getting to Vansen, too. They needed to stay disentangled.

Hugh complained about not getting the money himself. Margot shrugged.

Once Theodora and the man were mostly out of view, becoming black dots in the distance, Margot finally let herself sit. Hugh sat beside her. He kicked off his shoes.

“I think a little break time is in order, don’t you think?” Hugh asked. “My feet have suffered long enough. How many Credits did she give us? It better be more than 100.”

Margot opened her palm. She sifted through it to the coin pile. “150.”

But the coins weren’t the most important things that Theodora handed her.

It was the piece of paper.

Margot unfolded it to see a series of instructions.

“It’s the treasure map,” she said.

Chapter 20

“Do you think we did the right thing in letting Theodora walk away without a fight?” Hugh asked Margot a few mornings later.

Margot’s arm still tingled whenever she bent it a certain way, but for the most part the potion had sealed her wounds. The healing process was as good as over.

“The Black Gold Group wanted her, and now they have her. The way I see it we avoided a big mess,” Margot said.

She couldn’t deny that she worried a tad bit. She would’ve liked to know if the Group held up their end of the bargain. Margot found that the best thing for them to do was to not think about it. They needed to move forward.

Margot readjusted the way she was sitting on the boulder. Her quill had gone dry. Coming up with something to say in her letter to Lucille turned out to be harder than she expected. Judith had made verbose note writing seem easy.

Prior to having the page in front of her, Margot felt like she had millions of things to say. She was bursting at the seams with ideas.

Now…

Nothing.

She could’ve written about how she and Hugh and Freddie had been subsisting on random animals cooked over fires. They’d been lucky that Hugh knew how to start them. He taught her the perfect way to roast a rabbit.

In the mornings, they drank and bathed in the dew drops. Margot came up with the idea. Hugh used his size manipulation power to shrink them so they could have their fill of water. Its purity reinvigorated her at the start of each and every day.

It had been ages since she’d had a proper wash in a tub. Margot had to settle for splashing into the dew drops. At first, she’d been embarrassed about the possibility of Hugh peeking at her, but she got over it. He seemed as disinterested in seeing her as she was of seeing him.

How fantastic it was to see the world from a new height, to see the grass like it was part of a forest. It gave her a layer of appreciation for nature that she didn’t know she had. And Freddie had a wonderful time running around the grass, playing tricks on her. She looked forward to mornings for that reason. Seeing him having so much fun tickled her soul.

Hugh’s powers had their limits. He couldn’t hold the spell for long periods of time without risking his health. Margot related to that. A lack of Psyche was a dangerous beast for any Psionic to take on. Hugh warned her of the madness that it could bring, a permanent erosion in the mental mindscape.

Whenever they came across a merchant in the field, they performed a lethargic rendition of their stage show in the hopes that they’d earn something. The tips were paltry and given mostly because their audience found Freddie adorable.

Margot and Hugh stocked up on potions. They figured a supply would come in handy, especially since they didn’t know what they were getting themselves into with the hidden treasure. Theodora’s note didn’t have any warnings attached to it.

They spent their Credits without a second thought. There were greater profits waiting for them once they got their hands on the treasure.

Hugh wanted to get back to the acting game, but even he agreed that they couldn’t pass up the Black Gold Group’s treasure. Vansen could wait.

They followed the instructions the best they could. They had to reorient themselves a few times, retracing their steps when they realized that they’d failed to grasp what Theodora had written down. Some of her directions had the landmarks in the wrong spots.

Margot, Freddie, and Hugh decided to take a brief break after what had been a dizzying last couple of hours. Margot used her time to begin a letter, starting it in the classic, traditional manner of “Dear Lucille.”

“I feel like we’re getting closer to where we need to be.” Hugh stretched out his arms. “I bet we’ll find it today.”

“I doubt that.” Margot dipped her quill into her ink well.

Her letter wouldn’t be able to be sent until they reached a proper town, unless they lucked into finding a mail carrier traveling the open field. Margot realized she should’ve packed envelopes. She wanted to kick herself for forgetting them.

“Who are you writing to? You’re still such a mystery to me. You never talk about yourself.”

“Why do you care? Does it matter?”

“I’m an actor. I feed off of other people’s life stories. Besides, we’ve been with each other for a long while. I think we’re past the stranger danger phase. You should be able to trust me enough to tell me things like your favorite color.”

“Seriously? You want to know what my favorite color is?”

“That’d be a start. Really, I’m just trying to get to know my fellow actress slash bodyguard. You seem like an interesting person. You’re rough around the edges, and yet you have a floater’s fighting style. You put yourself in the middle of danger without flinching.” Hugh rubbed his chin. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“Patchwork Town.”

“That’s where you were born? I thought that was an NPC town.”

A surge of pride welled up in her chest. “It is. Technically, I’m an NPC, and, um, technically, I’m also an RPC. I’m a bit of both.”

He stared at her incredulously. “No one can be both. You’re either one or the other. You, my friend, seem like an RPC through and through.”

“The one time I feel like opening up to you and you look at me like that. No, thanks. Conversation over. I’m gonna get back to my letter.”

“Wait, are you like a Hacker? That’s…brave of you to admit that to me. We don’t have those in my home country. Every pip has Psionic abilities, even if they don’t feel like using them. I’ve never met a Hacker.” Hugh visibly cringed at her. “I don’t think that’s something you should advertise. Although, learning that does explain a few things about you.”

“I’m not a Hacker. I’m a glitch in the system. Have you ever heard of glitches being born in Pipland?”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“I mean I lived my whole life as a shoemaker, and then one day I found out my real mom’s a Wyvernette. Her wyvern found me in the forest and gave me her egg. That’s how I got Freddie,” Margot said. “I saw an error message, then I got a bunch of Psionic powers and the rest is history.”

“I see…”

“If you’re freaked out about it, it’s okay if you wanna leave. I’m keeping the map, though. It’s mine.”

“I could take it from you.”

“You’re joking, right?” Margot still didn’t know what Hugh’s level was. Fighting against his magic could prove to be tricky, but she was sure she’d best him. Freddie would help her end the match quickly.

Hugh laughed nervously. “Of course! So…is that why you decided to leave home? You felt like you didn’t belong there anymore? That’s similar to my reason. Pipland was suffocating me. Staying would’ve perma-killed me.”

“I sort of got kicked out. My step-mom and my dad thought I was corrupting my sister. She’s an NPC, like a full one. We have different mothers,” Margot said. “Anyway, I don’t plan on being gone from Patchwork Town forever. Once I’m strong enough, I’m going to go back and take down the Stronghold outside of it.”

She gauged his face for a reaction. Hugh scratched through the front of his hair, more confused than anything else.

“Is that a fortress that monsters come out of?” Hugh asked. “I want to make sure I’m not translating it wrong in my head.”

“Yeah, that’s a Stronghold.”

“Then, what in the world were you doing in Holliwell? There isn’t a Stronghold around there.”

“Looking for a quest to do. Then, I got screwed over. I told you about it when we were threatening Theodora or whatever.” Heat surfaced to her cheeks. The sting of embarrassment from the whole ordeal hadn’t left her. If she ever found Laura Flower again, she planned on wringing her neck.

“Am I correct in saying that your plan is to go on a bunch of random adventures until you feel like you’re ready?” He lifted his foot for Freddie to practice jumping over.

Freddie never failed to find new ways to amuse himself.

“Yeah. I’ll be ready when I know it, probably around Level 20. You probably want to do something similar when it comes to your acting, right? You’ll stop when you’re as famous as you wanna be.”

“Oh, I’ll never stop acting. This is my lifeblood! Adventuring’s yours.”

Margot shook her head. “Deep down, I’m still a shoemaker. Half the time I fight I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I wouldn’t have known that if you didn’t tell me. You rescued me from those goblins in Holliwell and you did a bang-up job keeping those imps away from the cart. You hunt food for us. You pulled daggers out of your arm and kept on going. Who does that? Golly, now that I’m going over everything, I sound like a bum.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. I hate sitting around. Not having anything to do bothers me.”

Patchwork Town had instilled her with her hardworking outlook on life.

“Then I shouldn’t keep holding you back from your letter,” Hugh said.

“Yeah, it’s for my sister back home. Her name’s Lucille.”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“I try not to think about her so I don’t miss her as much. I don’t know how healthy that is, but it works for me,” Margot said.

“I can relate to that,” Hugh replied. “I ought to get out of your hair now. Mind if I take Freddie for a walk? He looks antsy.”

Margot nodded, then brought the quill back down onto the page. She had an inkling of an idea of what to write now.

Dear Lucille,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I have a lot to tell you…

***

Margot supposed there was something to “the luck of the pip.”

Hugh, the lucky pip that he was, tripped over a root sticking out of the ground. He landed face first in the dirt, his hat coming off of his head. Margot helped him back up and noticed a crease line near where he’d fallen.

She double-checked Theodora’s instructions.

“We’re close,” she said. “Brush away the dirt right there. There should be an inscription.”

Hugh rubbed it away with his elbow. It looked like a flat square stone, like a grave marker.

“Since we’re being open with each other now, I have to admit that your alphabet confuses me. Would you mind reading this out loud? I don’t want to make any mistakes,” Hugh said.

“Sure.” Margot crouched down to take a look at it. There was an archaic curve to the letters, something that the modernization of the written form had stamped out. She read it for him. “For those with the right eyes only.”

“There are two holes at the bottom. We might have to plug something into them.”

“They look like eye holes, like for binoculars or something. You go first.”

“Oh no. I’m not sticking my face on that thing. Do you know how long it takes me to scrub my face every morning?” Hugh tsked at her. “I have a ritual, you know, and I quite like my eyes. What if something down there pokes at them?”

Freddie nudged Margot with the front of his head.

“What is it? Do you think we should try to force our way in? This could be a door for all that we know,” Margot said.

She edged her fingers around the slab. She couldn’t curl her hands under it. It was like it had been glued in place. She attempted to dig around it, but she met solid rock. Resistance.

“I don’t think that’s the door,” he said.

Margot removed her awl from her belt pouch, then prodded it at the holes.

“Why do you have a spike?” Hugh asked.

“It’s for piercing leather. Anyway, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything weird inside. It would’ve screamed or gotten hit by my awl,” Margot replied. “I’m going to look inside.”

“The luck of the pip to you.”

She pressed her face to the rock and aligned her eyes with the holes.

Peering in, Margot was greeted with a brief passage:

[INSCRIPTION: The brittle tail will lay waste to those of plain heart.

Retribution will be given.

The entrance is where glass becomes sand.]

She tore her face away from it.

“What’s down there? Are you alright?” Hugh asked in quick succession.

“It’s a riddle. The Black Gold Group went to lengths to hide whatever this treasure is from people. That has to mean that it’s something special.”

“What if someone’s already taken the treasure?”

“Don’t say shit like that. We’re here and we’re going to find it. We just need to put our heads together and solve whatever this riddle is. I’ll read it to you.”

She repeated the inscription based on her memory of it, not looking into the holes again.

Hugh hummed in thought. “Where glass becomes sand? We’re in the middle of a grassy nowhere. Are you sure that’s what it said?”

“It definitely did.”

“I’ll have a look at it myself.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to read our language.”

“Do I or don’t I? It’s more accurate to say that I have problems with your alphabet. Allow me to have a turn.”

“What happened to your beauty regimen?”

“Sacrifices have to be made. I’ll survive, but you’ll owe me for this.” Hugh lowered his face to the stone slab. “You mentioned that there were three sentences, correct?”

“Yeah, each one was on its own line.”

“That’s not what I’m seeing.” Hugh moved aside so she could take a peek.

Margot stared through the eyeholes and was met with a new passage:

[INSCRIPTION: An overwhelming fear turns into hate. These new laws…

Our unheeded warnings will have dire consequences.

Where is the sought-after door?

Where is the entrance to the second room?

To not have the proper sight is to not know the way home.]

“… That’s completely different from what it said the first time,” Margot said. “It’s turning into nonsense.”

The second version of the inscription hadn’t bothered pointing them towards a new direction. She beat her fist against the smooth rock and let out a curse that made Hugh recoil in its intensity.

They were literally being stonewalled by a piece of rock.

Looking at it a third time, Margot discovered that the text kept changing. What mystical force was powering this thing, Margot had no idea. Was someone pouring their Psyche into this riddle to throw people off of the Black Gold’s secret? That was strange, considering that they were openly talking about it in front of one of their prisoners.

Knowing their methods of kidnapping and forcing people to do things they didn’t want to do, though, Margot could believe it. They could’ve had groups of people around, each one responsible for maintaining the rotating inscriptions.

That felt like a waste. Wouldn’t the Black Gold Group’s time have been better served setting up undercover guards? They could have people set up around every corner, watching anyone who dared search for the hidden entrance.

The clusters of boulders around them could provide the perfect cover. If the slab was as magical as it seemed, it could’ve come equipped with an alarm system. The Black Gold Group could’ve already been alerted to their presence.

Guardsmen could pop out of nowhere at any second to snipe her, Freddie, and Hugh down.

She sat up, her hand grasping at her sword handle. “Come out and face us.”

Hugh scratched his head. “Who are you talking to?”

“Whoever might be stalking us. Stop hiding and face us head on!”

“I don’t think that there’s anybody out there.”

Freddie placed his claw on Margot’s boot to reassure her. She relaxed her grip.

“Alright. I guess there isn’t someone out there, then,” Margot said, “but we’re stuck here until we can figure out what’s going on with this inscription.”

Her wyvern tapped the stone slab, his nails making a clicking sound.

Margot held her head. “Freddie, do you want to try looking through it?”

“A great deal of good that’d do us. He can’t read or speak,” Hugh said.

Freddie chirped at his Tamer. Margot sat back down on the ground and closed her eyes.

“I’ve got a skill called Second Sight that lets me see through his eyes. Just don’t poke me or move me in any way while I do this. I have to focus.”

Hugh stayed away from her.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw from Freddie’s viewpoint. The searing pain at the corners of her vision was less sharp than it had been before. Those improvements in her Neutral Psi points were treating her well, but the experience still wasn’t pain-free.

Freddie bounced over to the slab and leaned forward. He had an issue at first with his snout getting in the way, but angling his head allowed him to see the inscription inside:

[INSCRIPTION: You have the right eyes.

Do not be afraid. Your path will be clear.

Entrance system now activating.]

Margot closed their connection, her eyes watering as her vision came back into focus. She wiped her eyes, hoping to dry them, but ended up smearing her tears around her face, instead. Some blinking and headshaking brought everything closer to normal for her.

Well, close enough to normal, seeing how there was a whirring noise coming from one of the nearby boulders. The stone sat at an awkward slant, bumpy and full of rough edges. Four lines fissured into it, splintering deep cracks into the rock.

“It’s a door,” Hugh pointed out. “That must be the entrance! What did Freddie do?”

“He didn’t do anything special. It said he had the right eyes, for whatever reason. Something about our eyes must’ve been wrong to the magic rock.”

Margot wondered if it was because they were Psionics. Her and Hugh didn’t have much in common other than that. It could’ve been set up to confuse any Psi Users. As a Companion, Freddie must not have triggered anything from the system within.

“This treasure better be worth it,” Hugh said. He flicked the feather on his hat.

“Here, take my scissors. They’ll help you more than your bare fists,” Margot said. “We don’t know what’s going to be down there.”

“I’ll stick to these.” Hugh punched his fists together. “I may be an actor, but—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Let’s go before the door disappears.” Margot helped Freddie onto her shoulder, allowing him to perch on her epaulet. She kept her sword in its scabbard as they headed to the false stone.

She placed her hand on the recessed part of the rock—the door—and gave it a shove.

It swung inward, revealing a set of stairs that descended into darkness.

“I’m ready when you are,” Hugh said.

Margot suspected that his brevity was an act.

She breathed in, and did a little acting of her own.

“I’m always ready.”

Chapter 21

The rock door moved on its own, shutting as soon as they were inside.

Darkness enveloped them. A shudder ran through Margot’s body. Freddie smoothed his cheek against hers, the gesture helping to raise her confidence. What was so bad about walking down a set of stairs in pitch black darkness?

A lot, but she couldn’t think about it or else she’d never move.

“Hold onto the back of my shirt,” Hugh said. “I’ll go down first.”

“No, thanks. I’m not gonna hold onto your shirt. If you trip and fall, we’ll all go down,” Margot said. “I’ve got an idea. Lean as far right as you can and get behind me.”

The passageway was a tight fit for the both of them. If Hugh hadn’t been a pip, they wouldn’t have been able to shuffle their positions around.

“Let it fly, Freddie,” Margot said. “Go.”

Freddie pecked her above her earlobe. She bit back her yelp.

“No, I don’t mean you go down there and fly. Fire off some of your PB attacks. Light this cavern up.”

Now grasping what his Tamer meant, Freddie blasted off a Poison Breath attack. The green beam of toxikinetic energy trailed down the stairs, giving off a hazy light as it went. Margot strained her eyes, watching out for potential pitfalls along their path.

She tapped Freddie to let out another one. This time, Margot watched the roof for hanging traps.

Not seeing anything suspicious, Margot stepped down. “We should be good.”

“Thank goodness you have that dragon—I mean, wyvern,” Hugh corrected himself. “Calling a wyvern a dragon is as bad as calling a pip a gnome. There’s a clear difference.”

“Dragons and wyverns are in the same family.”

“Pips and gnomes aren’t! You should never call a pip a gnome or a skinny dwarf or any other short-in-stature species. Those mindless gnome pricks have no idea how much they’ve wrecked and affected our proud pip image. Pips are pips. Gnomes are gnomes. Enough said!”

“Mindless gnomes? Are they really that mindless?”

“In comparison to us, yes. I could go on and on about it for a millennia.”

“Maybe later…”

Rather than feeding into Hugh’s sudden rant about pips versus gnomes, Margot busied herself with maintaining the utmost focus as she descended the stairs. Falling would wound both her body and her pride. She wanted to avoid that.

The steps lowered the group into an empty hallway. A slightly ajar door stood at the end of the stretch, beckoning them closer.

A strip along the ceiling glowed. It was as if someone had harnessed a spark and dragged it straight across. Margot hadn’t seen anything like it before. Holding up her hand, she felt the warmth radiating from the light. An equivalent flame would’ve singed her at the very least.

The walls were metal-plated. Margot rapped her knuckles against the nearest one, the sound returning hollow. Her face reflected in the wall’s shine. Brown-orange splotches bruised the metal in places.

Hugh chipped at one of the rust stains. “This is borderline disgusting.”

“Yeah, it sure is. Why’d you touch it?”

“Curiosity, I suppose. Shall we walk?”

“I’m beginning to think that getting this treasure won’t be as easy as we thought. Have you ever explored a dungeon before?”

Margot had read about them in Judith’s notebook. Unfortunately, her mother had skipped out on the details. She was verbose when it came to mundane things, but when it came to matters of importance, she kept it brief.

She imagined that dungeons were similar to the Stronghold. A living entity, the Core of the dungeon, spit out monsters for adventurers to fight. Eventually, the adventurers would brave the dungeon and reach its hidden prize.

This place felt far less organic than the Stronghold. Whereas the Stronghold had a bulging eyeball tracking their movements, the only thing this one had that was close to that was a blinking red dot above the doorframe.

Margot looked back at the stairs they’d come from.

A wiser woman would have thought this whole thing through more thoroughly. If the party’s wyvern wasn’t attached to the aforementioned woman, maybe he would’ve had the sense to fly away. A more seasoned adventurer who didn’t use being an actor as an excuse to get out of everything might have also paid more attention to his suspicions.

Alas, those weren’t the people standing in the hallway. Margot, Freddie, and Hugh powered on ahead. They reached the door waiting for them.

Margot nudged it open with her foot.

Wooden workbenches filled the next room, a familiar sight to Margot. Quite a few of the benches were askew as if someone had been halted in the middle of redecorating the room. Stools lay about on their sides. Margot stepped over a wayward stool leg, ripped from its seat.

There was a door that led elsewhere in the back of the room, along with a few doors lining the side wall.

A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, not made out of glass crystals but a metal circle. It cradled what looked like colorful noodles, a whole pile of them hanging over the chandelier’s edges. More of the noodles, or perhaps, tubing, poked out of holes in the ceiling.

Shiny wires poked out of various slices in the tubes. They took in the light from the glowing strip that bisected the ceiling.

Layers of dust coated the surfaces of the benches. Freddie sneezed.

A buzzing, whirring sound echoed in the room.

It came from a man-shaped hunk of metal. No left arm, just an empty socket. A large drill existed where his right arm would have been. It remained still. His face was frozen in a constant smile, like a skull derived of skin. The metal-thing’s torso was interlaced with tubes that looked like the ones from the ceiling.

An ever-blinking red circle pulsed in his left eye.

The metal man clanged as he stood up. “What is the authorization code?” He, or rather, it, asked. Its voice was metallic and distant, like someone speaking through a chamber of nails. Inhuman. A machine. “Unauthorized entrants will be forcibly removed.”

“Shit,” Margot said.

“We should go,” Hugh said, clutching Margot’s arm.

“Invalid authorization code. You have one more chance before the removal sequence is activated,” the metal man droned.

“We like to give back to the people,” Hugh tried, his sweat seeping through Margot’s sleeve.

“Invalid authorization code. Commencing removal sequence.” The drill arm came to life, rotating so fast that it became a blur.

Freddie fired off a Poison Breath blast. The monster was unfazed. His body didn’t even rock backwards from the blow. He treated it like it was nothing and started coming for the group.

Margot whirled around to the door behind them.

Hugh spun her back around. “No! That’s a dead end. This way!”

They raced to the side wall, to the first door they could get their hands on. It didn’t have a standard doorknob. Instead there was a lit-up panel. Hugh slammed his hand against it. The door slid away, swallowed up into the door frame.

Once they stepped over the threshold, the door slid closed, appearing from where it had disappeared.

Margot scanned the room for something that could help them.

Glass tanks full of putrid, still water. A chair. More tubes littering the floor like a crashed plate of pasta. Crumbled bits of paper in random places. More dust clouds that had Freddie sneezing every time he breathed in.

A desk.

They could use that.

And the cabinets, too.

“Help me push the desk!” Margot shouted. She and Hugh got behind the desk. Driving their heels into the ground, they shoved it as hard as they could. Its legs screeched across the metallic flooring until its body banged against the door.

The drill continued to whir in the other room.

“Now, the cabinets!” Margot began to move the nearest one. It wasn’t until Hugh came over that she made distance with it.

They were about to lay the cabinet against the desk when they heard the crunch of metal. Then, a slam. Margot let go of the cabinet. Hugh dropped it the rest of the way, his mouth hanging open.

“It’s going to rip the door down,” he said.

“Obviously.” Margot scrambled to check the floor for something they could use. Just a bunch of tubes. Gaps in the tubing showed bundles of metallic hairs. “What is this stuff?”

“I’ve got a plan.”

“Say it fast.”

“I’m going to—” A slam against the other side of the door stole his words from him for a second. “I’m going to shrink us down. We can run under the desk and then get through to the next room. Once we’re there, we’re going to have to find the door that will get us out of here.”

“Okay, okay, do it, then.”

“Hold my hand. As soon as I open the door, we’re going to get small, and we’re going to high-tail it out of here. Put Freddie on my shoulder. He’s got to be making skin-to-skin contact with me.”

Margot took Hugh by the hand and helped Freddie hop on over to him. Freddie huddled in close.

Bang! Margot felt the vibrations through her boots.

The drill sheared away at the metal on the other side. Only the horrific sounds of the metal breaking and coming apart told her what was happening beyond the door. The metal man was getting closer.

The door bent. It folded under the drill’s pressure, cracks and bends fissuring across it.

Hugh leaned over the desk. He slapped his hand onto the panel to release the door.

It slid out of view, the metal man’s drill streaking it. They were face-to-face with their tormentor.

Its red eye pierced Margot in its intensity. She tightened her hand over Hugh’s.

The party shrunk, sinking into the fabric of their now too-large clothes. Margot guesstimated them to be about the size of her thumb. The desk loomed over them. From their vantage point, it was difficult to see the metal man.

During the shrink down process, Margot had let go of Hugh’s hand. They’d gotten separated somewhere in the gigantic clothes pile that draped around them. Margot made her way out of it.

“Hugh!” she called out to find him. “Freddie!”

The crack of wood splintering drowned out her words. Although she couldn’t see it, the metal man cleaved the desk to get to its prey. She raised her arms over her head to shield herself from the bits raining down. She counted herself as lucky that the man hadn’t decided to shove the desk over. If it had done that, she’d have been crushed.

Being crushed was still a distinct possibility. She needed to make it over to the other side of the threshold. She wrapped her arms around her chest to brace her breasts against her body, then raced as fast as she could to get to the desk.

The distance felt so much greater now that she was tiny.

There was a whooshing noise.

A heavy quake propelled her forward. She rolled to a stop, ending up sprawled out on the ground. Stars bloomed in her vision. Margot cleared them with a shake of her head. She recovered in time to be knocked around by a second shudder.

The desk vibrated, violent in its shaking. The drill crushed through more of it, sending wood pieces flying everywhere.

A splinter speared the space next to Margot’s head. Sawdust rolled in like a storm. Margot covered her face and rolled to dodge the thick of it. As soon as she bounced back onto her feet, she continued to run.

Margot vaulted over pieces of wood as she made her way through. Going directly under the desk would be a suicide mission. She hoped that Hugh had enough common sense to go around it.

She veered off, dodging falling wood.

A crash signaled that the desk had fallen through. Margot bent out of the way of another stray splinter. It whacked her in the arm, throwing her off of her feet.

“Margot!” Hugh called. He held Freddie in his bare arms. Margot couldn’t hear Freddie from where she was, but the way his mouth was opening told her he was screeching for her, too.

Margot got back up. She threw her arm forward, indicating to them that they needed to keep going.

The metal man’s feet crushed the halved desk as it walked inside. A beam of light shot out from its eye. It scanned the ground, moving like a crimson spotlight. Margot hurried to get out of its circle.

She made it to the edge of the desk’s remains. She crawled through the wreckage, wishing that her gloves had shrunk down with her. Eventually, she made it to the other side, scratches all over her legs and stomach, but still in one piece.

For now.

Margot waited for Hugh and Freddie to appear. When they emerged, she led them in an all-out sprint.

The workbenches had become tall stalks. The broken stools were hurdles they had to climb over. At this height, it was difficult for her to tell which way was the door. Margot made a left turn to get around a wall that had once been a stool leg.

“Wrong way,” Hugh said. “Over here!”

Margot followed his direction.

They edged around the wood, and then became caught in the metal man’s red beam.

They’d been spotted.

“Full-size!” Margot screamed.

The drill roared, its spinning deafening her.

Its shadow engulfed them. Instinct drove Margot to Freddie. She had to protect him.

But there was nowhere to go.

The metal man’s drill slammed down.

Chapter 22

Margot had to peel herself off of the floor when she woke up. The blood glued her there, the non-evaporated parts still clinging to her. She brought a hand to the back of her head. A section of her hair had matted together. She twisted her fingers through it.

Freddie was nuzzled to her chest, his wings out to her sides.

Hugh groaned to her right. He sat up.

They were all fully sized now and still bare, their clothes having been left in the room they escaped from. Margot’s straight sword had been strapped to her belt. She wasn’t sure if it’d be able to penetrate the metal man’s skin, but she felt like she had to try.

Everyone would die if she didn’t do that much.

This time, they wouldn’t have the Favor necessary for a re-do.

The metal man stood up from the corner of the room, the same place it’d been in when they first entered the room. It creaked, its gears sliding from its movement.

“What is the authorization code? Unauthorized entrants will be forcibly removed,” it announced.

Dammit. They hadn’t had time to gather their wits.

Margot pressed her finger to her lips and motioned Hugh to follow her to the other door, the one at the end of the room. Freddie stayed at her heel, his nails clicking as he walked.

The metal man’s red eye honed in on her. “You will be considered unauthorized if you do not give the proper code. Halt.”

They froze.

“Hugh, you’re going to have to shrink us down again,” Margot said.

“That didn’t work too well last time,” Hugh said.

“Invalid authorization code. You have one more chance before the removal sequence is activated,” the metal man interrupted.

“The chandelier. We’ve got to unhook its chains and let it drop on this motherfucker. That’s our only shot,” Margot said.

“But how? We can’t climb up there.”

“We’re using Freddie. Keep him normal-sized. Freddie, you’ve got to fly!”

“Invalid authorization code. Commencing the removal sequence.” The metal man’s drill arm spun.

Hugh gripped Margot’s arm.

Everything in her vision dropped, a blurred motion overwhelming her sight. The abrupt change in height punched pressure straight through her skull.

She stared up at Freddie’s chin from down below. Freddie lowered his head for them to climb on. Hugh struggled to get a grip on Freddie’s scales, the wyvern grunting at what probably felt like someone scratching him in the wrong direction.

Margot helped give Hugh a boost.

The biggest boost of all came from Freddie knocking them upwards with a flick of his head. They sailed through the air, luckily crash-landing between his shoulder blades. Freddie kept his back bent so he wouldn’t lose his riders.

Margot struggled not to throw up. That toss-up hadn’t been good for her stomach.

“What are we supposed to grab onto?” Hugh’s voice was frantic.

“His neck. Crawl forward if you can.”

The drill sounded off, the vibrations it made rippling through the air.

There was just enough time for them to get a handhold on Freddie before the wyvern bolted. Margot tensed her body, doing everything she could to stay rock-solid in place. The wind ripped liquid from her eyes, tears streaming out before she could shut them.

Hugh wouldn’t stop screaming. Margot would’ve been screaming too if it weren’t for her fear of vomiting everywhere.

Freddie lifted off.

Weightlessness.

He did it! He was flying!

The muscles beneath them rippled as he flapped his wings. He rose up high, going for the chandelier, or so Margot assumed. She still hadn’t opened her eyes.

Air buffeted around them. Freddie pumped his wings to gain more height. The metal man’s joints ground as he continued his approach.

Margot peeked over the edge. She confirmed that they were far above the tyrant. They’d be safe as long as it couldn’t shoot beams from its red eye.

Freddie made it. His talons perched on the chandelier’s metal ring. Margot let out a cheer.

“Is it over?” Hugh squeaked. “Am I dead? Am I in the throes of Salvation? This doesn’t look like Salvation to me.”

“We’re good. We’re alive. We just have to figure out a way to undo these hooks.”

“We won’t be able to do it at this size. Oh, I think I’m going to be sick…”

Margot snapped at him. “Hold it together! The metal man’s going to come this way soon. As soon as he’s standing under us, we’ve got to drop this.”

“Why can’t we have Freddie fly us to the door? Why do we have to do this plan?”

“Because I’m not abandoning all of my stuff. This is going to work. Now, un-size me or whatever so I can pop the chandelier off of these chains.”

The center of the chandelier held a nest of colorful tubing. Margot climbed down Freddie. She gripped onto the pile to keep from sliding off and to the ground below. Falling would be fatal.

Margot refused to look down.

“Did you forget I have to touch you to be able to manipulate your size?” Hugh called from on top of Freddie. “Either that or I have to run out of Psyche, but I’m not doing that!”

“But I thought you clapped and it deactivated. That’s what you did with that imp,” Margot said.

“I don’t have the Psyche to spare to do that. I do that and I’ll be all out.”

“Oops.”

“Get Freddie to hover over you. I’ll lean down and bring you up to size. Quick question, though. If you die, does he die, too?” Hugh asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then you better not fall into that drill. If you do, we’re all going down.”

“Freddie, you heard the man.”

Freddie snorted, the sound amplified. He kicked off from the chandelier and then glided back around. Margot met him at the edge, careful in her climbing not to slip through any gaps in the tubing. Freddie angled himself so Margot and Hugh could slap their hands together.

On contact, Hugh applied his Psi ability to her.

Freddie flew off to give her room as she expanded.

The drill buzzed its warning threat.

She realized that she hadn’t figured out her own escape plan. If she was laying on top of the chandelier after unhooking the chains, then she was going to fall with it.

“Hey, guys, listen up. This is my plan for what’s going to happen as soon as I let the chandelier go. Freddie, you’re going to have to stay above me. Hugh, you’re gonna shrink me. I’ll hold out my finger. Then, Freddie, it’s up to you to catch me.”

She hated having to put her fate in their hands (that sentiment being more reserved for Hugh than Freddie), but she didn’t have any other choice.

Margot braced herself as she unhooked the first chain. The chandelier slanted. She held on tight to keep from sliding off. Then, she undid the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, until there was one more left. At that point, the chandelier had tilted in a way that had the bundle of tubes tumbling off.

They got caught up in the metal man’s drill, shredded apart like they were nothing.

She’d go the way of the tubes if her exit strategy didn’t work out.

Margot released the final hook.

She tight-gripped the chain. The weight of the chandelier dropped out from under her.

With a resounding crash, it landed on top of the metal man. The metal screeched a terrible sound that echoed in her ears.

Her shoulder popped, dislocated out of place, but she kept her grip firm.

Margot dangled. She held out her other hand. Freddie streaked by her. She felt the tiniest touch on her finger before she lost her hold on the chain. Everything spun as she tumbled through the air, shrinking smaller as she fell.

Freddie cried. She hit his back and then bounced off.

Still falling…

Freddie swooped down to catch her.

She went through the air, her arms and legs flailing for help.

His talons enclosed her.

Blood trickled out of her nose from…she wasn’t sure what. The pressure, maybe. Her head felt light, dizzier than it’d been for a long time. Margot wheezed, her lungs protesting against her.

She was safe.

Freddie’s feelings of relief flooded her with comfort. She heard his heartbeat, the gentle rhythm of it. She could barely make out Hugh’s screams.

His screams weren’t out of terror. This time, they were out of triumph.

***

As soon as they touched ground again, Hugh brought himself and Margot back to regular size. He didn’t bother to avert his eyes, but he didn’t ogle her, either. He looked at her like their mutual nudity was an entirely normal thing. No need for embarrassment.

Maybe pip culture had different modesty standards.

Margot turned away from him, anyway.

Hugh fanned his hand over his face. “I thought that was going to be it for us.”

The chandelier and its bundle of tubes had pinned the metal man in place. Parts of him had gotten crushed. His jaw came unhinged. His legs twitched, poking out from beneath the chandelier.

No one was brave enough to step closer or to attempt to finish him off. The drill, although slower and with far less force, still spun like a children’s toy top at the end of its rotations. Getting anywhere near that would be a bad idea.

“See, this is why you make a fantastic bodyguard. You kept us alive,” Hugh said.

“Did you forget the part where we died?”

“It wasn’t a perma-death. Now, do you think the treasure is in one of these rooms?”

“What if another one of those things is in there? We should keep going ahead.”

“I wonder if that thing was the treasure… Does it have a jewel inside?”

“I’m starting to think that there wasn’t treasure here in the first place. Those guys talked about treasure in front of Theodora to get her to come here with her friends and family. It was a set-up,” Margot said, “just like every shitty thing that’s happened to me. Everything’s a fucking set up.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No. What I need is my clothes. This place is grimy.” She kept her arm as stiff as she could. Pain pulsed in her injured shoulder.

“You care about grime? I thought I was the only one. I’ve never heard you complain about it before.”

“Of course I do. It’s gross in here. It’s, like, strangely artificial. I mean, look around us. Why’s everything made out of metal except for the furniture? What are these things?” Margot reached for a tube. Its wiry innards were peeking out of a cut near its base. “What’s this stuffed in the middle of it? A bunch of bronze and gold-looking hairs? Wires? I don’t know.”

Her head pounded.

“You’re asking a lot of questions to a guy who’s as clueless as you are. I’m sorry to tell you that.”

“Hey, do you think Theodora might’ve set us up?” Margot tossed the tubing aside. “Maybe the Black Gold Group wasn’t screwing her over. She could’ve been screwing us over, as a way of getting back at me.”

“If you think about it too much, your head’s going to explode. Let’s focus on better things, like exploring the other two rooms.”

“Clothes, first. If we see any other monsters, you shrink us and we’ll fly to the door.”

“My Psyche’s running low.” Hugh frowned. “I’ve got enough for one final hurrah, but I won’t be able to sustain it for a long time.”

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that, then.”

They dressed and retrieved their items. Margot secured her sword, her heart lifting as she knotted the scabbard’s ties to her belt.

To their chagrin, the doors revealed empty rooms. Well, empty other than debris piles and overall messiness. It looked like somebody had cleared out of the place fast.

No furniture. No decorations. Nothing left as a way of identifying the people who’d once used the place.

All that was left in the final room was an overturned box. Margot stomped through blankets of dust on her way over to it.

“Looks like no one’s been here in a long time,” Margot commented. “I wonder what the Black Gold Group’s going to think when they find out that their guard’s down.”

“What if it doesn’t belong to the Black Gold Group?” Hugh asked.

“It’s got to be them, right? They knew about it,” Margot said.

“Who can say for sure? Either way, we’ve got to bury that slab. I don’t want anyone finding this place and going through what we did. That monster could free itself with enough time.”

“Only things or people that aren’t Psionics can find it. Remember how the text kept changing for us? So…” Margot trailed off, keeping her next thoughts to herself.

Was this a hide-out for a Non-Psionic group? As far as Margot was aware, guilds were a Psionic thing. NPCs didn’t organize like that. They didn’t create their own underground workshops. They just did whatever they were expected to do in order to keep their Favor ratings high.

Hugh hung out by the doorway. He didn’t want to get his shoes dirty.

Margot flipped the heavy paper box over. Something banged against the sides. Her breath caught in her throat.

She backed up at the sight of what it had been hiding.

“No,” she said. “No, no, no.”

Freddie squawked from his place next to Hugh.

“What’s in the box, Margot? C’mon, you’ve got people wanting to know.”

“It’s a… It’s…”

“Yes?”

“It’s a leg. A regular, normal human leg, but the bones of it…it’s metal on the inside.” Fake skin without rot grafted over what could’ve been steel or something else…

Margot’s head spun.

She wobbled over to the doorway. Her ingrained disgust towards anything like that—abominations, people who ruined their flesh to become pseudo-Psionics—acted up in full force. Margot covered her mouth to keep from retching.

Hugh forgot about protecting his shoes as he went over to take a peek. “What do you mean?”

“This was a Hacker facility. They were making body parts here. That thing under the chandelier? Somebody made that. This isn’t the Great Mother’s doing!” She raked her fingers through her hair. “No, no. This place, we’ve got to get out of here. We’re not supposed to be here, Hugh. This is going to ruin our Favor.”

“Get a hold of yourself. We don’t have anything to do with this.”

“This is the treasure. It all makes sense now. They’re showing NPCs that they can do something like this. I bet you that that guard over there would’ve given them the proper authorization,” Margot said. “It probably scanned our eyes with its red blinking eye and decided that it needed to kill us. I’m not even a regular Psionic! I’m different. I’m more of an NPC, but did it care? No. It killed us and then tried to kill us a second time.”

“Margot, honey, I think you need to take a deep breath, the deepest breath you’ve ever taken, and have a seat. I can understand why you’re freaking out right now, but all this freaking out’s not good for you. You need a break.”

“What I need is to get out of here.”

“Seriously, calm yourself. The closest town to here is either Belago or Solio. I forgot its name. We should go there and get you a proper night’s sleep in a real bed.” Hugh’s eyebrows furrowed to emphasize his seriousness. “The Great Mother knows that I need one. I hate dying. It makes me feel all tingly.”

Margot counted numbers in her head, a technique that her sister had taught her. She admitted that her adverse reaction to the limb may have been extreme, but it was the fault of her upbringing.

Logically, she knew that leg was some psychotronic-embedded creation. That’s all it was. Nothing to be afraid of. But, emotionally? Seeing that had been like a sick punch to her gut. The leg was the work of blasphemers, and blasphemers deserved to be executed.

The ones responsible for it were long gone, most likely spreading their teachings across the land.

She stiffened. “Those blueprints that Theodora was carting…they could’ve been for something like this. We have to find Moderators. They should know about this.”

“Yes, we’ll do that after we get to Solio or Belago. Focus on that step of our journey before you implode from stress. Goodness gracious, you’re practically turning green.”

Margot leaned down to hug Freddie with her good arm. She held him close, their heartbeats falling into a shared pattern. Freddie leaned up to press the crown of his head against her chin. She snuggled him, taking a moment to gather herself.

Hugh was right. She needed to slow down.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay. I’m sorry about all that,” Margot said, her voice softer than before. “How confident are you about that town?”

“Very. It’s one of the places I mapped out on my country tour. I’ve never been there myself, but I’m pretty sure it’s half a jump skip from here, somewhere towards the north. The creepy three-pronged tree we passed by a while back is the landmark we’ll need to use.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here.”

They exited the room, then headed to the far door. The metal man continued to clunk and make noises from where he was trapped. His drill sputtered, unable to rev up like it once had.

How much XP would that machine be worth? Would it be nothing, because it was man-made and not from the Great Mother herself?

To create such a thing and go against the GM like that was grotesque. There were people out there walking around augmented with mechanical pieces. They swapped slices of themselves for psychotronic equipment in order to become shadows of what they weren’t in the first place.

It was just like what those police officers in Patchwork Town had told her about the Grimbauer couple. Hackers…

NPCs were NPCs and RPCs were RPCs. Those were the tracks that the GM denoted for everyone. Margot was in some nebulous category of her own as a half-Psionic, but for the most part, she was a Ranked Psionic Contributor who lived the life of a Non-Psionic Contributor. Once her adventuring was over, she’d go back to her NPC lifestyle.

…Assuming that the GM would let her, that is. Would her Favor rating suffer once she went back to being a shoemaker? Even if she expanded her shoe line across the continent, would that be acceptable? She wondered how Hugh was making it. Did the GM punish him for wanting to be an actor rather than an adventurer earning points for her?

The door led them to a series of stairs. A strip of light running along the wall gave them the visibility they needed to ascend without tripping. Once they reached the top, they were met with another door. It was designed like the others within the underground workshop, with a square panel for a palm press.

Hugh pushed it. The door slid away.

They stepped out into a section of the open fields that Margot didn’t recognize. She spun around to figure out how they’d gotten there. Checking behind them, she discovered that they’d emerged from a false boulder, similar to the one they’d entered the workshop from.

She ran her hand over it. Whatever door-shape crease lines had once been there disappeared. There was no sign left of it ever being an exit. It looked like any other stone in the area.

“I wonder if anyone will believe this,” Hugh said. He tipped back his feathered hat as he surveyed everything around them. “If we can get back to that tree I mentioned, we’ll get to town without an issue.”

Margot helped Freddie onto the false boulder. She took a potion out of her bag and tipped it back, wincing as the bitter-tasting liquid slid down her throat. The aftertaste was wholly unpleasant.

“That chain messed up my shoulder,” she explained.

“We should take you to a healer. I don’t want to soil that potion’s good name, but it’s not the best of brands.”

Margot could tell. Her injury still ached whenever she moved. It must’ve been a slow-release potion.

“Hey, little guy,” she spoke to Freddie, “do you think you can sniff out where the town might be? Imagine something that might smell like home. Lots of people.”

Freddie tilted his head at her like she’d lost her mind.

Margot twisted her lips. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re a wyvern. You have extra senses that we don’t.”

Freddie leaned to the right. He redirected his body, using it to point the way.

“Could that be true north?” Hugh asked. “I wonder if he has any compass-like senses.”

“It wouldn’t help us right now if he did. We’ve got to get back to the tree.” Margot fixed the strap of her satchel, tightening it so her bag wouldn’t swing as much when she walked.

A powerful screech blared out from the sky.

Margot snapped her head up to see where it was coming from.

The shadowy shape of a winged reptile soared overhead. No forearms. A long tail with a hook at the end. It was a wyvern, an adult by the looks of it. Griseldis? The sun made it difficult to see.

Freddie screeched back at it.

Margot was going to say Griseldis’ name, but the word died in her mouth as soon as the wyvern swooped into clearer view.

That wasn’t Griseldis.

Hugh hit the ground to protect himself. Margot dove to cover Freddie. The wyvern hatchling let out a Poison Breath attack. It went nowhere, whizzing by Margot’s ear and ruffling her hair. She huddled over him.

The wyvern’s wings swirled gusts of wind around them.

Claws pierced into Margot’s shoulder, ripping open her shirt, leather, and skin as it cut through. She scrambled to maintain her hold on Freddie. The wyvern dragged her backwards, her boots skidding across the ground. She kept Freddie in her arms, squeezing him in her refusal to let go.

Freddie cried out.

Hugh popped up to help. As the wyvern lifted Margot off of her feet, Hugh clung to her waist. She twisted in the talon’s grasp, blood pouring from the gaping wound. Margot lost her grasp on Freddie. He slipped down to the grass.

Her vision blackening at the edges, Margot went for her sword.

The wyvern released her. She fell in a heap, knocking Hugh over. Margot recovered faster than he did, her blade drawn to fight off the flying beast. Her injured arm hung limp at her side, sopping wet.

Freddie took flight. He unleashed a Poison Breath attack. The wyvern flapped its wings, the generated wind knocking the green blast off course.

Hugh punched at the pseudo-rock.

Margot ran up the boulder. She needed to launch herself off of it and strike the wyvern.

But jumping off of it didn’t give her the vertical distance she needed. Her upward slash didn’t come anywhere close to the airborne creature.

Her landing sent jolts straight up into her injury. She screamed through clenched teeth.

The wyvern shot upwards, then dove down towards Freddie. Freddie flew to dodge the wyvern as it gave chase.

He was no match for the wyvern’s speed. Every barrel roll, every tilt and dive he made did nothing to combat their closeness. The wyvern gained on him in what felt like no time at all. It rose over him.

And then, it clutched him in its talons.

“Freddie!” Margot shouted.

Cold fear strangled her.

The wyvern soared, Freddie calling for help.

Margot leaned against the boulder, then activated her Second Sight skill.

A searing headache blitzed down her skull, but she pushed through it as she looked through Freddie’s eyes.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Tamer and Companion distance is increasing. Skill-based connections are becoming limited as a result. Errors are liable to occur. Shortening the distance is strongly advised.]

Trees below them streaked into blurs of green. Where was the wyvern taking him? Freddie peered over at what appeared to be a mountain in the far distance.

The colors faded from their shared vision. It blurred, then spun as if going through a grinder.

[SYSTEM: Warning! Tamer and Companion have lost connection. Tamer and Companion have been temporarily disconnected from one another. Rectify this error to regain connection.]

[SYSTEM: Error! “Companion” not found. Please find a solution. Tamers and Companions should not be separated. “Tamer” now operating at half capacity.]

[SYSTEM: Warning! Shell damage is at critical. Healing is strongly advised.]

Margot collapsed. Dark circles crowded her vision.

Hugh sat over her. He was saying something she couldn’t hear. Her body seized up, foam bubbling up from her stomach. As gently as he could, Hugh eased Margot over so she could drain out.

More words from him.

He spilled a potion into her mouth. She coughed and spluttered. Hugh waited before giving her a second bottle. She struggled with it. He had to massage her neck to coax it down

That was when she realized that he’d been repeating her name. His face was strained, his expression pulled tight as he did what he could to keep her alive.

Margot reached for his hand. Hugh gave it to her. She squeezed, crushing his hand so hard that he cried. The contact gave her something else to focus on as the potions started to work.

They weren’t going to close the greatest wound of all, though.

She’d lost Freddie.

Chapter 23

The first thing Margot did upon recovery was stomp off towards where that damned wyvern had gone.

Hugh stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His hat was off-kilter.

She seethed. “Get out of my way.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“To the mountain to get Freddie back! That wyvern took him there.” Margot pointed in the direction of it. “We’ve got to kill it and save him.”

“You die when he dies, right? You can raise your Favor rating and kill yourself. He’ll respawn next to you. Problem solved.”

“I got a system message saying that our connection’s disconnected. We’re not going to respawn together. And…I’m at half of everything without him. My Shell and Psyche are at half-capacity. We’re screwed.”

“Well, that’s bad.”

“Y’think?” Margot huffed. “Get out of my way. If you don’t want to help me get him back, I’ll do it myself.”

“Wait. This is a suicide mission and you know it. Think about this for a minute. The wyvern didn’t look like it wanted to hurt Freddie. It only wanted to take him. We should be happy about that, because that’s going to buy us some time.”

“I’m not happy about anything! I want Freddie back. He’s probably scared shitless up there. I can’t sit around and be happy all because oh, the wyvern decided not to hurt him for now. That’s stupid.”

Hugh snapped at her. “What’s stupid is you thinking that you can march up that mountain and get Freddie yourself. I’m not a whole lot of value added, either, for this. You know who would be? A mercenary.” He calmed his sharp tone. “What we’ve got to do is find a high-leveled Psionic and have them fight the battles up that mountain for us. We might even have to hire two of them.”

Margot took what Hugh said under consideration.

“Where can we get one of those?” she asked.

“Solio or Belago, that town close to here. It’s a Psionic-heavy place. I had to do my research into it for my tour. They don’t have a standard theater or anything, but they do have a tavern. I mean, every town worth its Credits has a tavern.”

“I don’t care about their tavern. I care about getting Freddie back.”

“Right, right. I was just saying—”

“What you should be saying is where that tree is.”

“Do you need a hug? You look like you need a hug.”

Margot let out a long stream of air to clear her head. She needed to relax before she punted Hugh straight across the field. “…Sorry. Sorry,” Margot repeated. She let out another breath. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you. Thank you for saving me back there, Hugh. That half-capacity thing screwed me up. I would’ve died if you weren’t around.”

“You would’ve done the same thing for me. Now, I’m pretty sure that tree is that way. If I’m wrong, I’ll give you my hat.”

“No, thanks. It belongs on you.” She retrieved her straight sword from the ground.

Margot prayed that the wyvern wouldn’t harm a single scale on Freddie’s body.

***

Based on the reaction of the first person they ran into when they entered Solio, Margot figured she and Hugh must’ve looked like they’d seen better days.

The stranger had laughed right in their faces.

Hugh had to hold Margot to keep her from fighting the armor-wearing man. She dusted herself off and kept walking. Hugh was right. They didn’t need any delays thanks to some rude person with nothing better to do.

Unlike Holliwell, Solio didn’t have a gate armed by incompetent guardsmen. Its welcoming entrance was open for anyone to walk through. The city’s architectural designs were classical, built in stacked block patterns. Arrow-shaped street signs acted as waypoints to direct people wherever they needed to go.

“This way to the Mercenaries’ Guild,” Margot read off of a sign.

They passed by a fenced lot where children were fighting each other with plush-looking swords. An instructor walked through the battling kids, making remarks about their forms.

Margot spared them a glance. If Psionics were getting trained like that at such a young age, then no wonder why people found her level to be such a laugh riot.

Then again, it wasn’t like the kids were getting XP from what they were doing. They were probably at Level 1. Sure, they were displaying techniques that Margot envied, but there was something to be said for her fighting style, too. Something about it had been enough to gain Hugh’s respect and attention. That had to count for something, even if Hugh was a pip.

A saleswoman called out to Hugh and Margot from the front of her shop. She offered to upgrade their looks. Margot declined. They needed all the Credits they could get for that mercenary.

She rolled up her sleeves to cover the rips in them. She’d run out of intact clothing, so a wardrobe upgrade was definitely in order soon. Her leather vest, in particular, needed help.

Someone marched by them waving a banner celebrating a guild’s recent raid victory. He handed a pamphlet to Hugh. Hugh dropped it into the trash as soon as they turned the corner.

They reached the Mercenaries’ Guild.

A young woman stood behind the counter. She greeted them. Her multi-colored hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head. A few unruly curls framed her delicate face.

“Welcome to the Mercenaries’ Guild,” she said. “Have you ever used our services before?”

Illustrated depictions of various Psionic mercenaries lined the wall, enclosed in ornate frames. Men and women alike stood over them, posed proudly by their weapons. There were archers, Psi users holding blue fire in their palms, axe men, and all sorts of others.

“It’s our first time here,” Hugh said. “How does this work? We’re looking for the best mercenary you have.”

“There is a binder over there with details on each mercenary we currently have on our roster. Their profiles list their prices. I must inform you that there are certain rules you must follow with your hired mercenary,” the receptionist said. “All payments must be made through our organization and not directly to the mercenary. You cannot force a mercenary to do something that they do not wish to do. The quest you’re hiring them for must be detailed to us prior to—”

Margot cut the woman off. “Excuse me, who’s the best mercenary for mountain climbing? We’ve got an urgent rescue mission to do.”

“Are you hiring a mercenary for an officially-sanctioned quest?” the woman asked.

“It might as well be one,” Margot said.

“It doesn’t matter either way, but we must know. There’s a lengthy form that you must fill out with all of the pertinent details.” The woman leaned back in her chair and pulled something out from under her desk. She dropped a hefty stack of papers onto the counter. “Here are the rules written out in full, as well as the required forms. You write down your selection and we’ll notify you of his or her availability and whether or not your quest is acceptable to them.”

“They can deny quests?” Margot asked. Her heart sunk.

“If they do, we’ll suggest a replacement mercenary. I recommend that you write your Top 3 choices. That should expedite the process.”

Hugh patted Margot on the back. It felt almost placating, like he was trying to stop her from being riled up. “Let’s go see the book, Margot. Thank you for your time, Miss.”

“You’re very welcome. Please don’t hesitate to ask me anything that you’re curious about. I assure you that every mercenary we have would be up to any task that you desire…as long as it fits the parameters of our rules, of course,” she replied.

They went over to the book. Within it were pages full of people that they could hire for help. Each mercenary came with a written blurb along with their specialties. Some of them included their hobbies.

“Which Talent do you think would be best for this? A rock crusher? I wonder if they have any Tamers in here…” Margot flipped through, her eyes scanning for the word Tamer.

“Not so fast!”

“Alphabet issues?”

“Something like that,” Hugh said. “I’ll need to take my time with this.”

“Sure, you can take a look first,” Margot said. “You pick out three that you like and then I’ll pick out three that I like and we’ll compare notes.”

“That works for me.”

Fortunately, there were headshot sketches of each mercenary included, so if Hugh had too many problems, he could partially base his decision off of their pictures.

While she waited, Margot’s eyes returned to the portraits on the wall. She spotted a name on one of the posters that looked shockingly familiar.

Barnabas Baillache… Where had she seen that name before?

The man looked regal, his long hair draped over his shoulders. A trimmed beard lined his chiseled face. His broad shoulders and muscular arms looked like they could lift mountains. That’d be perfect for shaking down that wyvern.

What captivated Margot the most were his piercing green eyes. They looked like they’d seen years of harrowing battles, or so Margot guessed. A man his age must’ve gone through some shit.

Over his torso, he wore chain mail and a silver-colored chest plate.

Margot took in his name again.

Baillache… Baillache…

She sucked in a sharp breath.

The notebook! Her mother’s notebook! Baillache had been the artist’s signature, the one who had drawn her and Griseldis’ portrait.

“Hugh, we need that guy!” Margot pointed at Baillache’s picture.

“Why? What’s special about him?”

She couldn’t drop the smile from her face. This guy could help lead her to her mother. What if she was somewhere in Solio? What if she, Baillache, and Judith stormed the mountain to rescue Freddie?

Margot buzzed.

“He knows my mom.”

Codetta

Lucille Hyland’s song came to an abrupt halt. Someone walked into the room, their presence enough for her to break her music off in the middle. She’d expected it to be Jon, the shoe seller’s son, but it turned out to be his mother, Eloise.

“Don’t stop playing on my account,” Eloise said. She wore a flour-stained apron, her hair under a bonnet. “I brought you some tea.”

“Thank you. And, thank you again for letting me play.”

“It’s not a problem, dear.” She handed the teacup over to Lucille. “Your playing’s beautiful. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a trained musician.”

Lucille breathed in the tea’s fragrant scent. Wisps of heat danced on its surface.

“I wish you weren’t leaving Patchwork Town. First your sister and now you,” Eloise said with a sigh. “Your parents will miss you terribly.”

“They’ll be okay. They were all for it, actually. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Her parents thought she was going on a spiritual pilgrimage with a group of true believers from Patchwork Town. According to what her parents knew about the trip, the pilgrims were going to cleanse themselves of their negative energy and then return, refreshed and ready to serve the Great Mother.

“Make sure you write,” Eloise said.

“I will.”

“Do you think you could play that song again? I won’t watch. I’ll sit in the other room.”

Lucille rested her hands on the keys. “I’d love to.”

Once Eloise gave her privacy, Lucille brushed her fingers over the folded-up map in her pocket.

Then, she played on.

Wyvernette Book 1,

Fin.

Margot Hyland’s Final Character Sheet

[Name: Unknown

Talent: Wyvern Tamer

Level: 5

XP: 60/576

Credits: 45

Shell: 100%

Psyche: 100%

Power

Offensive: 3

Defensive: 3

Neutral: 2

Psi

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 1

Neutral: 2

Poise

Offensive: 2

Defensive: 4

Neutral: 2

Skills —

Tamer (Wyvern Specialty): Unlocks the Tamer skill tree and grants the Tamer talent.

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Tamer to the Companion.

Second Sight: When activated, the Tamer sees through the vision of the Companion and vice versa.

Hypnogenesis: Induces target into Sleep state by skin and eye contact.]

[Freddie’s Skills —

Psionic Bond: Psychically links the Companion to the Tamer.

Venomous Bite: Leaks venom into melee bite attack. Causes Poisoned effect for a very short period of time.

Second Sight: When activated, the Companion sees through the vision of the Tamer and vice versa.

Poison Breath: Generates a visible toxikinetic energy-infused stream of air. Deals damage and inflicts Poisoned effect.

Flight: Allows the Companion to fly.]

Afterword

The adventure continues in the second book!

Thank you for reading the first book of the Wyvernette series. Whether or not you enjoyed the story, please leave a review. Every review is appreciated.

Visit www.kayefairburn.com and follow Kaye Fairburn on Facebook at www.facebook.com/kayefairburn for more news about upcoming releases.

Subscribe to be notified of new releases, story previews, and special offers from Kaye Fairburn and friends:

http://bit.ly/kayelitrpgnews

Also by the Author

Stalwart Souls Online: The Player Killer’s Mark

“When a mysterious Player Killer with the ability to cause his victims to die in real life appears in the fully immersive massive multi-player online roleplaying game (MMORPG) Stalwart Souls Online, administrators shut down the game servers to find the criminal.

What they didn't count on was the system being hijacked. Stalwart Souls Online is rebooted, a new patch applied. All players online at that time revert back to Trainee level, their hard work erased. They soon discover that the log out function has been disabled, and that that isn't the only thing that has changed in the game...

In the midst of this is someone who must cope and survive in this updated RPG world while avoiding becoming the Player Killer's next target. Roy will face dark dungeons, go on adventures, compete in player versus player battles, navigate the difficulties of guild politics, and learn a more realistic definition of good and evil.

The Player Killer’s Mark is the first book of the Stalwart Souls Online fantasy LitRPG series.”

Click here to learn more!

And Finally…

Hungry for more LitRPG? Get connected to the various LitRPG Facebook groups out there.

Join the LitRPG Society Facebook group here:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPGsociety/

Join the LitRPG Facebook group here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPGGroup/

Join the LitRPG Books Facebook group here:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPG.books/

Say hi to Kaye Fairburn when you join.

And don’t forget you can visit Kaye Fairburn at www.kayefairburn.com

Follow Kaye Fairburn on Facebook at www.facebook.com/kayefairburn for more news about upcoming releases.

Be the first to know! Subscribe to be notified of new releases, special offers, and story previews from Kaye Fairburn and friends: http://bit.ly/kayelitrpgnews

Thanks for reading!

Please leave a review.