Chapitre 40: CHAPTER 40 [ THE HUNTER AND THE HUNTERS]
"Ah well." I sadly sighed and spent all five of the points I had on wisdom. It was a shame, but I had to do it.
That out of the way, I looked the herbs over thoughtfully. They were obviously for a quest I hadn't gotten. I decided to walk around the city the next day and figure out who gave the quest.
As for the chess piece, it was obviously trash, but it sure looked nice. I decided to leave it in my bag for the time being.
By the time I had thought through everything and checked it all out, I realised we were almost to the city. Gunther's mind was also occupied, though he sometimes wriggled a bit in his boots; that birch tree had apparently done a number on him.
We walked into the city and went our separate ways.
"Where are you off to?" I asked Gunther.
"The order mission. I have to inform the master of what happened, give him a full report of the journey. I'll tell him about our battle, too."
"I'm going to stop by tomorrow. I'll tell him what a hero you were and how well you fought."
"You don't have to do that..." Gunther blushed and stuttered. Once again, I was stunned by the good work the developers had done; he could have been a living person. "What did I do—"
"The samurais said something else," I interrupted, and Gunther perked up. He was obviously fascinated by the samurais, and he could barely hide how excited he was to hear what I was about to say. "True bravery is living when it's time to live and dying when it's time to die. You proved your bravery, you live fairly, and you were ready to die for a cause you thought was right. There isn't anything wrong with me telling that to your direct supervisor."
"To who?"
"To the master."
The knight walked off in the direction of the mission, his badly mangled armor clanging with each step, and I set off to talk with the mayor.
"Well?" He waited on pins and needles, and his eyes kept flicking over to my bag. "Did you kill the witch? Did you?"
"Yes, yes, I did. Here." I gave him the glasses and book.
"Oh, you even got her glasses! That's very nice of you. Or do you have to use them to read the book?" The mayor put them in a desk drawer.
You completed a quest: Kill the Forest Witch.
Reward:
600 gold
700 experience
10% to your reputation in Fladridge
There was one more surprise.
You unlocked level 24!
Points ready to be distributed: 5
What a day!
"Well, thank you. The city is in your debt."
The mayor stood up, handed me a purse full of gold, shook my hand vigorously, and started pushing me out the door with his ample midsection.
"Hey, do you really need those glasses?" I had a sneaking suspicion dawning, and I wanted to check it out.
"You want a souvenir?" The mayor playfully jabbed a finger into my chest. "To remind you of your great feat?"
"Something like that. I'll hang it on the refrigerator like a magnet."
"Where?" The mayor's face looked exactly like Gunther's.
"On the door to the icebox," I said.
"Well, aren't you the art lover!" The mayor waved a sausage-like finger.
"Pretty much."
"Eh, here you go. Whatever."
He opened the drawer, pulled the glasses out, and tossed them to me.
"And now you'll have to excuse me. So much to do! The city awaits." The mayor's face turned serious.
"Agreed, lots to do. Send me a letter if anything comes up."
I walked out and thought for a bit.
"You know what? Tomorrow's another day, and I can think over everything then."
I headed over to the mailbox, sent the greaves to Max, and sent the ring to Rodriguez. Maybe they could use them. I knew I wouldn't get much if I sold them, so I was better off helping out a couple of friends.
Then I walked to the hotel, smiling at Lubelia as I went in.
"See? Never believe a word I say."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I promised I wouldn't be coming to spend the night, but here I am. Anyway, make sure no one bothers me before morning."
"No one at all?"
"No one."
I climbed the stairs to my room and tossed the chess piece into the chest. Then, after adding two points to my strength, one to my intellect, and another two to my wisdom, I logged out of the game.
I pushed my chair back from my desk, stretched happily, laced my fingers behind my head, and surveyed my handiwork. There was a folder open on the screen in front of me, and it held four files where, just four hours before, there had only been two. I had churned out two more articles. Well, I'm not positive "churned" is the right word—they had practically written themselves. One had been bouncing around inside my head since the road from Fladridge, and all I'd had to do was put it down on paper. (Okay, type it up in my word processor.) Its sequel popped out of me like a champagne cork. The first looked at game mechanics: items, quests, magic. The second described the world itself: geography, history, fables, and folk legends. Regardless, the job was 65 percent done, and I was only a bit more than a week in. That gave me pause to think. I had a whole month, and at my current rate, I would be done in another week. What was I supposed to do with the last two weeks? There had to be some way I could turn that to my financial advantage. A thought popped into my head…
Anyway, I sent the files to Gamroth after a quick internal discussion regarding whether I should send the both right away or stagger them a bit. In the end, I decided to make his day, picturing his gray mane quivering in happiness as I did. Maybe he'd even do a little dance.
Now, the articles were making waves; I'd checked the Capital Herald's website, and the forums were abuzz. I was surprised to see that everyone, from kids to retirees, was reading the first two articles, especially the middle generation.
All the older progressives were putting up a united front against me, as the author, and my findings. I'd made my position fairly clear: there was nothing wrong with games themselves, but they shouldn't be used to escape from real-world problems. They're just a quick breath of fresh air.
The older generation and some of the middle generation accused me and the gaming industry as a whole of brainwashing young people, trying to keep them away from civil life, misleading them, and just about everything else under the sun. I think I may have even been blamed for the burning of Rome, not to mention working with Grishka Otrepyev[11], the runaway monk, to seize Moscow and assassinate Archduke Ferdinand. It wasn't anything I hadn't seen before, and I was just happy to see that my work was getting traction.
I was surprised to see that the younger generation read newspapers, to begin with, though one of them may have happened upon an article and shared it on a forum; I'd have to check into that. However, they and the rest of the middle generation were standing up for me and the gaming industry. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with just doing what they wanted to do. The older generation screwed the country up and then turned on them. Civil life? Give them raids and dungeons!
That all had to have Gamroth jumping for joy.
There was traffic, there was noise, and ratings were climbing. The perfect storm.
I was really excited, too, of course. A quick search showed me that my articles had been shamelessly copied onto twenty or so other sites—needless to say, all with blatant disregard for copyright law. But the popularity was what had me so elated. It was at that moment, however, that my stomach interrupted my reverie.
"I'm hungry!" it told me in no uncertain terms. I stroked it reassuringly.
"Let's get a couple sausages into you. Maybe even three. With some pasta!"
My stomach growled back its satisfied response. A second later, that response turned sour, however, when it discovered that I'd misled it. The refrigerator was a cold wasteland populated by nothing more than a jar of mustard and a shapeless piece of something that looked like it might have been cheese in a past life. A sickly sprig of dill rounded things out.
I looked at the clock to see that it was 9 p.m. Still, there was nothing for it—I had to make a trip to the store. Elysium had wreaked havoc in my apartment. The refrigerator was empty, there was chaos everywhere, and, I realised, it was getting awfully stuffy.
With the windows open, I put on a coat and headed for the nearest market, putting the next day's problems out of my head for the time being. They weren't helping my digestion.
I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. No surprise, it was Gamroth. The fact that it was 6 a.m. didn't surprise me either.
"Milford, what do you think about writing eight articles after all?" He jumped right in without so much as a "good morning" or "I hope I didn't wake you."
"No, Alexei Ilyich, not happening."
~ ~ ~
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone