Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (30 page)

There
were two buildings on the map loosely labeled training hall. From the
information I read while walking, these locations seemed a lot like
gyms for weapon trainers. I had to see what those were like.
Thankfully there would be no drill sergeants spitting words at my
face, I hoped.

From
a tree overhead, there was a rush of noises. Rustling preceded a
solid whack as something collided with the trunk, then what had to be
a chipmunk chattering. Giant acorn like objects fell from the tree as
the squabbling noises kept going.

I
stopped and watched. The beach was in sight, but this was interesting
enough to suffer a hit to my progress bar. Soon other creatures
joined in. My poor eyesight couldn’t make out if they had been
there the whole time or leapt from adjourning trees. They were
clearly fighting something. That something was hissing back.

A
smile crept across my crinkling face. I kept watching for the
inevitable outcome. After thirty more seconds of squabbling, my
little trouble making buddy fell from the branches above.

He
was pelted by a good fifteen more acorn objects. In his teeth, he had
managed to wrestle one of the other creatures down. It looked like a
sleeker chipmunk with a strange set of emerald jewels right above
either eye.

“
Identification,”
I whispered. It wouldn’t do to have any of the other NPCs hear
me using a player skill.

“
Really?”
I asked.

The
[Messenger's Pet]
huffed and shook his head back and forth.

“
You
weren’t trying to steal their treasures were you?”

He
let out an angry hiss at the branches above. More trees rustled from
overhead and another round of acorns flew towards both me and the
miniature dragon.

“
Bah.”
I shook my cane at the tree and kept walking on towards my bench.
There was a bright, shiny arrow bobbing above the ground as a guide.
‘Park your old butt here!’ it seemed to say. Sitting hurt
as much as walking.

Old
age was no picnic. I spent the first thirty minutes of William
Carver's bench warming time trying to play fetch with the miniature
dragon. I still had no idea if the little fellow had a name or not.
The carcass from a dead Coo-Coo Rill had been deposited in front of
my bench.

Citizens
of this world walked around it with a giggle or frown. One woman
clearly found the situation borderline hysterical. Probably my feeble
tossing of nuts to the little dragon had something to do with it. A
shimmering blue headband was wrapped around her hair. One stray chunk
was tucked behind an ear as she sat down. The woman was clearly
important. Old Man Carver didn’t have a wall of information
about her stored away, but there was one major message box.

Was
Carver stalking this girl? Clearly it wasn’t offensive since
she sat down next to me with half a smile. Everything hurt so much
when moving so I doubt Carver was trying to peep into showers.

“
Morning,
Mylia.” I started politely and watched the meter for possible
reactions.

“
Mister
Carver. How are you this fine day?”

“
Enjoying
the view.” I even managed not to look anywhere near her when
saying it. Otherwise, it would be god kind of creepy.

“
And
your little friend?” She was gesturing towards the tiny dragon
who was now playing with a young boy. The
[Messenger's
Pet]
was
hopping around eagerly.

“
He
followed me.” My answer was vague. I wasn't exactly sure why
the
[Messenger's
Pet]
had
hung around.

“
What’s
his name?”

“
No
idea. I’ll ask him.” I responded.

“
Oh?
Is he a tiny dragon?” Mylia asked. She looked eager to pet the
tiny creature but managed to hold herself back.

“
Not
exactly. A Messenger's Pet.” I was trying to sound impressive
by knowing the dragon’s species which was clearly a bad idea.
My progress bar dropped down two percent from that one. Old Man
Carver didn’t give away much information if he could help it.

“
Oh.”
She looked worried and frowned for a moment. “Aren’t
those bad?”

“
Mh.
What’s he going to do to me?” I felt little fear from the
tiny dragon, but he did have teeth and breathed fire. If he were to
attack it would suck due to the pain feedback. That would be
anti-neat and pain-tastic.

“
I
don’t know, but it’d be a shame if something did happen.”
She turned my direction and made it easier to see her entire face.

“
Mylia,
if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d miss this
old man.” I tested out the third person speech, tried not using
titles like miss or ma’am. Instead, the progress bar went up a
little. My eyes drifted to the azure scarf she had wrapped around
most of her head.

“
Not
me, Mister Carver. The kids, though, they might miss your stories.”

“
Everyone
loves a good story,” I said. There were two rooms in Carver's
house full of books that proved the point.

“
I
imagine they love the story teller too.” Mylia managed to sound
playful with her words. She had half a smile that almost reached her
worn eyes.

“
Hah.”
Old Man Carver didn’t seem very lovable. Maybe he was hard on
the outside and soft on the inside. Like a very weird cookie.
Probably raisin filled.

“
Come
on, Phil, we’re running behind,” She said. The younger
boy looked up and nodded. His eyes were tired too. Not from abuse,
but from malnutrition. Mylia Jacobs wasn’t much better. Both of
them were probably underfed. It wasn’t in her clothes or his,
but there was a familiar draw to the face.

“
Mh.
Goodbye, Mylia.” It was almost absent minded as I studied them
walking off. Mylia wasn’t excessively attractive. The only
vaguely cute aspect was an azure band wrapped atop her head.

The
small dragon nipped at my heel looking for attention. Now it was near
noon and the bar set aside for hunger was dwindling. I absently
pulled out my apple and ate a few bites while thinking of additional
tasks.

“
Mh.”
Chewing hurt like everything else.

No
new players had started today that needed my attention. Sitting on
the bench I watched one bewildered person start and be cornered by a
friend almost immediately. Clearly they were starting to play with
someone from real life. The more senior player gave me a wave and
hauled their friend onward.

I
grunted and pulled out the book hidden in my robe. Reading to pass
time would be helpful.
[Inspection]
revealed a surprise. Maybe
that’s why this book had been easiest to grab.

“
Mh.”
I started reading through the book. Somewhere during these boring
actions the
[Messenger's
Pet]
had
decided to take a nap in a spot of sun nearby. His location would
probably be safe from both the idle footsteps of people and the
attacks of angry Coo-Coo Rills.

Three weeks in this city and I’ve
noticed a lot of issues. I’d finally ditched those other idiots
and found my own pace. Michelle was too content to stay in our
hometown and work a forge. Yates insisted on learning magic, even
though it was too weird, and I wanted to hit things with a sword.

Maybe I’m an idiot too. But here, in
this world, you can be anything, why would I settle for being so
mundane? I have a goal, and that goal is to kill a dragon.

I
snorted in laughter which caused the tiny dragon to perk his ears for
a moment. At least Carver had aimed high. Had he succeeded? There
were about four weeks of bench-warming to endure so I avoided reading
spoilers if at all possible. According to the journal and my own
personal in-game display this was from about twenty-five years ago.

A
few more pages in and I could see Old Man Carver's general distaste
for other people. He regarded their choices and their methods as dull
and uninteresting. Not to say he didn’t occasionally pair up
with people. The first misadventure he had involved a female elf from
the general description. They tried to stop giant wasps from chewing
up a great tree of some sort.

He
outlined the qualities of said female elf and went into excessive
detail about her exuberance for all new things. The entry ended with
a parting of ways. The tree was also saved but from how everything
was written, saving nature had been a secondary mission. I rolled my
eyes. Old Man Carver sounded like a young teen in this one, not that
there was an age listed anywhere.

Glancing
around revealed that all was fairly peaceful. Guards patrolled and
townsfolk visited the beach. It looked cleaner since that new player
had spent hours picking up trash. Noon was growing closer and things
were warming up. Old Man Carver's robe wasn't exactly comfortable in
this sun.

I
looked around for a shady perch. There was another similar bench with
an awning attached. Moving there earned me another percent on my
progress bar and turned down the heat.

After my very grateful parting with the elf,
I set my compass south. There was a desert there that boasted giant
lizards. I assume they’ll be good practice for fighting a
Dragon. Before that, the sword I picked up in my hometown is also due
for a repair. Maybe I’ll stop by home and see if Michelle can
actually craft something as decent as he thinks.