The Butcher of Gadobhra

Chapter 43: Back in the saddle

The hayloft outside of Ben's small hidden room had undergone a few changes. Ben liked the idea of having a hidden place to keep his gear. He spent too much time away from Sedgewick. The small door to his room was built in such a way that unless you got close, it appeared as part of the back wall of the barn. He had further hidden it behind the oldest of the bales of straw, leaving just enough room for him to get in and out.

With most of the hay on one side, that left him some good space to set up an area for some crafting. He'd acquired several hides of very high-quality leather when they dug out the remains of the barn. The hides off the larger bulls had turned into something special after being tanned and exposed to extreme heat. Experimenting had shown it to be quite flame resistant and very tough.

The dark red, supple leather was difficult to work with, but he had the time, and the results would be worth it. High boots, leather pants and vest, a long horseman’s coat, and finally a fine hat. He felt the hat needed a long feather, but so far, the best he'd seen was a writing quill only about eight inches long and quite plain. He'd have to go looking if he got into one of the larger cities.

The entire set gave him some protection from physical damage, and as a bonus, a bit of fire mitigation.

He was still a bit amazed by what he could and couldn't do with the Courier class. He'd done leather working before, but it seemed like his skill was enhanced when working on courier gear, and yet much worse when doing anything else. His attempt at making a leather breastplate for Ozzy had come out looking more like a saddle.

Courier was an odd class with quite a few very specific benefits. Ben didn't have carpentry, but could fix or even make a new wheel for a wagon, and do repairs on the wagon itself. He wasn't a leatherworker, but he could turn out a surprising amount of tack and harness, and make the leather coats and hats that all couriers wore. He could also doctor a sick horse, efficiently load or unload cargo onto a ship or wagon, act as an official witness or notary, perform the duties of a town crier, and be seen as an impartial representative of the imperial post. Which hopefully kept him from getting shot at during a war.

The other odd part of the job was being part of quests. This wasn't necessarily good. So far, he had been killed three times so that a player could loot an important letter from his corpse. He'd been captured by bandits twice and then rescued by players. The bandits apologized for the bother and fed him lunch. The players treated him as an object that they needed to deliver. One group didn't even untie his hands as he trudged along behind them.

The big problem was that while he was getting EP for these courier runs, it wasn't a lot unless he stayed alive and still accomplished all of his goals. Plus, he was getting better in just the skills he currently had which all dealt with his job. Unless he wanted to be delivering packages forever and getting killed every other day, he needed to work on his skills, his gear, and find ways to branch out into other areas.

He'd had talks with Ozzy and Suzette. They'd had a bit of luck in getting some new skills, which had then led to other things. Ben suspected this wasn't totally random. There had been some talk from the developers that had sounded like the normal advertising for a new game: 'You get to create the events that turn into the legends of tomorrow.' But what if there was something to that?

He realized he'd been too passive this last month. He was going along with the role. He needed to fight against that tendency which he was sure was enhanced by some of the 'benefits' ACME had given them. Ozzy called it 'drinking the happy juice' and other less polite names. Of the four of them, Ozzy seemed the least affected, but Ben knew that Ozzy had a lot of layers to him, and some of those layers were quite cynical and vindictive. If he put his mind to not being happy, Ben knew that Ozzy could probably just ignore the conditioning.

Ben knew that he'd have a harder time of it. He liked looking on the bright side of life, even when things weren't going well. Singing a happy song while fighting blood thirsty orc pirates just made life more enjoyable! That attitude was working against him here.

Suzette seemed to be rolling along with it. Whatever she had figured out was making her more beautiful and graceful by the day. She danced more than she walked, and seemed to greatly enjoy life in the tavern and talking to people.

And Rolly? Who knew how it affected Rolly? The man was one of Ben's oldest friends, and he still couldn't figure him out. One day he didn't have a clue, and the next he would be explaining to Ben how he had figured out a way to sink all the enemy ships.

Each of his friends was finding unique ways to advance in the world. Ben felt he was falling behind. You didn’t become a ‘legend of tomorrow’ by following the script. New courier gear would help.

He'd just finished the last coat of dye. It needed a couple of hours to dry before he applied the sealant to the leather. A mixture of beeswax, beef tallow, and pine resin would keep the leather supple and waterproof and keep the dark dye he'd added from running. The result was a dark red-brown that looked quite pleasing to him.

It was early afternoon, but he always thought better with wine. Taking a few copper and silver coins from his room, headed over to the inn. He normally would drink in the tavern, happy to give Suzette the business. Today he wanted a change of scenery to shake him out of his normal habits. After buying a bottle of something red and cheap he grabbed a small table off in the corner of the inn, a bit away from other patrons.

He had some decisions to make and some research to do. After the wolf, he'd had 15 Core Skill points to spend. He'd been delighted to find some skills perfect for him at the bottom of the list. He'd been able to pick up both whip and hand x-bow as weapons, two of his favorites in many past adventures.

A problem though, had been trying to find a hand crossbow to use. He'd seen one among the weapons in the general store their first day in Sedgewick. But that one turned out to be missing parts, and what was left was rusty and decayed. The store keeper had it hanging on the wall to add a bit of color. So, Ben had the skill to finally use a weapon, but no weapon. None of the merchants at Rowan Keep had been of any help other than to keep an eye out for one.

He remembered when he'd fallen in love with them. It was a semi-historical drama that had him cast as a roguish adventurer and inventor. When the director had wanted him to wear spectacles and carry a pocket watch Ben had exclaimed "So you're wanting me to be more Benjamin Franklin than Captain George Sparrow?". That turned out to be exactly what the director wanted, and Ben had created the persona of Benjamin Franklin the 3rd. Grandson of the famed inventor, diplomat and ladies’ man, roaming the world fighting for freedom and winning the day more by his wits than his sword.

Strangely, he seemed to use a sword and x-bow much more than his wits in those shows, but he'd been allowed to come up with some crazy ideas a time or two. Catapult launched hang-gliders to make a daring rescue attempt from the sea-side fortress of Alcatraz had been fun. So had training seagulls to carry fire bombs over to the Cybermancer’s Ghostships. Well, fun for everyone but the gulls and the Cybermancer.

He remembered the end of that season, and being told he couldn't keep his favorite weapon. It was a beautiful wrist mounted cross-bow. The mechanism held 4 darts that he could shoot individually before needing to be reloaded and the mechanism rewound. He'd done most of the work himself with a bit of assistance from his first mate who'd had a love of clock making. Rodrigo had inscribed his mark on the bottom plate, a small rooster, and then 'BF3rd'.

For this drama, all the items had been unique. Each of the actors had been told they could keep their outfit for themselves. Such items could be carried over to any other game world in EndlessQuestingOnline, but could not be copied. The rest of the sets from the ships to the cannon balls would be auctioned off as 'one-of-a-kind souvenirs', similar in some ways to the NFT's of a century before, but with a unique code that ensured only one of each item could exist. Some people kept them, some sold them off. It was a substantial chunk of an actors pay for a popular show.

Which is why the actors had been furious when they'd been told that they wouldn't be keeping anything. The agreement was void because somehow the show had lost money. After the last show, they'd have to turn in everything. A set of large muscled security guards known as ‘The Acquisition Team’ would see to that. Ben had furiously tried to think of a way to smuggle an item out but had come up with nothing. He’d be searched down to his underwear. He was sitting in his dressing room on his flagship after they'd cleared out all the customers. In ten minutes, he had to be gone, and his outfit left. That was when the girl had slid into his room.

Ben was used to after hour visits by various females, but not like this one. Mainly because she was under 16, and barely a hundred pounds. She was dressed in grey. Grey hoody hiding her face as she stared at the floor and grey leggings that showed how thin she was. Ben didn't even notice her at first. She must have silently moved into his room, the door being open a bit. She didn't say a word.

Ben had turned to her, waiting, and then started the conversation himself. "Ah, a fan! Here for an autograph young miss?"

"No? No. I'm sorry. I didn't come for an autograph". She looked up, but not at him. He could see that her hair was nearly white, her face pale. She was staring at the decorations and pictures in the room.

"Something else then. I'd offer you a drink, but you look too young, and sadly, they took all my wine. Taking all the rest of this pretty soon as well."

“But in the meantime, what can I help you with?” The girl still seem distracted by something, but finally spoke again after a minute.

"I want to know things. Will you tell me?" She had turned to him finally. He saw confusion in her face, or maybe she was trying to figure out how to ask him something?

Ben wasn't sure what she meant. "Tell you what? I need a good question if you want a good answer."

She nodded. "That makes sense. Bad input, bad output. Bad question gets a bad answer. I need a good question...How do you know where to be?"

Well, this was at least an interesting conversation. "Know where to be where? Here?"

"No, know where to be when you move. When you fight. I watched today. Fifty-two people were moving on the deck you were fighting on. Seventeen were following a script. A few were just standing round. All the rest were trying to kill you. All the pirates. They were trying hard. And you just kept moving. There was no pattern! Just chaos! How did you do it? How do you know where to be? There are simply too many variables and not enough time for you to figure it out!"

She was animated now, pleading for an answer. Ben didn't know who she was, but he knew what she was asking finally.

"Ah, ok. Follow along with me. Yes, all those people were trying to kill me. They got a bonus for it. But I had all the advantages. So, I won."

"They had 23 people and you had just you...how is that an advantage?"

Ben smiled. "They thought they'd won as well. That's the first advantage: over confidence. They had me out numbered, so they didn't try their best. Me? I was desperate and knew I had to be perfect."

"Next advantage: I relied on myself. They had to rely on each other, and they had poor coordination. A man on his own has just himself, so he looks for no outside help and knows it's just him."

"Next is knowledge. I know my ship. I know every loose board, every stack of cannon ball, how fast the ships wheel can be spun to tilt the ship, how far it is to jump to a rail or a spar. It's all there in my head, and I don't hesitate, no matter whether I can see where I'm going, or not."

"And finally, they don't know the dance. They see only chaos; I make the pattern. Block a sword and slip under, force two men to chase, cut a rope as you run by, back another to a corner and leap to a rail, line up the 4 chasing you so the swinging yardarm hits all of them overboard. Kick a cannonball so it's where I need it after I roll forward. And on and on until they've all fallen."

"Each move I make is designed to make them move like pieces on a chessboard that they can't see. So, the place I know to move to, is the place that moves them to get me the next advantage, and to keep my head on my shoulders."

At this point people had two reactions: They clapped, or they had a glazed look on their face. She had neither. She just said "I understand." And then she turned to leave. Ben could hear movement up top. It was time for him to leave as well.

"Here, we can't let you leave without a memento. Can you hide this under your shirt? Let me strap it on your wrist and then cover it up."

After he had strapped his prized weapon on her arm, she looked at him again with that odd, lost look. "Why?"

Ben shrugged. "Because I can't keep it. Because I want to control where it does go. Because you listened and understood. Practice hard, and maybe it will be you here someday, and I’ll be sitting in the seats watching you. "

"And now, you need to go down that hallway, and be quiet for a bit and then slip out whichever way you came in. I have an exit scene to pull off." The girl ran off. Ben sighed. Damn but he'd miss that cross-bow.

He ran to a porthole, opened it and climbed through. Handy that all the portholes on his ship were just big enough. Hanging precariously, he heaved himself up, stepped to the top of the hinged window, and leaped to grab the edge of the deck and pull himself up to the main deck. From below he heard the 'acquisition team' looking for him to collect the rest of his gear. Time for the main event.

There was still a crowd watching from the edge of the dock, 20 feet away. Ben tossed his sword and belt into the air for some lucky souvenir hunter. This was followed by boots, pants, socks and the rest of his gear, until only his hat and underwear were left.

"DAMMIT FRANKLIN! THATS COMING OUT OF YOUR PAYCHECK!"

"Sorry gentlemen, my last paycheck bounced, so you can go to hell!" Leaping into the rigging, Ben untied a conveniently placed rope and swung out over the water, landing on the dock. His hat he placed on the head of a young boy, and then he swaggered off into the crowd, signing autographs and making his getaway.

So, second on the list was acquiring his weapon of choice. And he needed to spend some points. Time for a second bottle of wine and some digging into the system a bit.

Inquisitor Diego was a patient man, but it was running thin. This was the third broken wheel of the day. He was tempted to leave the supply wagons and thunder ahead with the cavalry. But he knew horses could only go so long without proper feed. And for all their talk of heroics, the Order of Paladins liked the comforts of their tents, their nightly feasts, and their wine. Few of them had ever really been on a real campaign. Wagon wheels broke and had to be fixed, that was a fact of life. Still, something bothered him.

He dismounted and walked along the muddy road to the wagon being worked on. The weather had been terrible, rain turning the roads into a mess. Approaching the wagon, he saw they were fitting an entire new wheel. The old one was in three pieces with a bent rim. He picked up one of the pieces and looked at it. The wood was old and weakened with rot. "I thought that at our last stop I ordered all wheels to be examined and replaced. How was this missed?"

The driver responsible for that wagon was both angry and fearful. "I swear I checked them all, Sir. Every spoke. That wheel was solid just two days ago. I swear upon my sainted mother's grave!"

Several of the Paladins rolled their eyes. Diego closed his, sniffed at the wood, searching for a certain smell. And he found it! Corruption! Dark magic had been used.

"And I believe you, my good man. Fix the wheel as fast as you can please. We'll move on." He raised his voice higher. "Captain Gabriel, can you explain to me how I am traveling with seventeen Paladins and yet someone has managed to use Dark magic under your noses and not one of you so much as suspected it?!"

That statement stirred the hornets nest. One by one the Paladins approached the wagon to examine the broken wheel. They raced around the supply train, checking every wheel, axel and piece of harness. Gabriel was red with fury. "Enough of this. From now on two of you will guard each wagon night and day. Tents and fine food have made you soft. You sleep under the wagons like the drivers with one of each pair on guard at all times."

"Never fear Inquisitor, we will find this Warlock and put him to the fire."

From the hills over looking the road, the howl of a wolf seemed to mock his words.