Even before I reached the site of the tavern, the shape of it created a weight in my stomach. A two-storey building dragged straight from some medieval land and placed awkwardly in the middle of a desert. It looked lost. Not exactly foreboding… but the weather was trying to make it up there.

  As I had walked, the drab gray overhead rolled across toward the city. Normally, I’d be more noir and miserable about it. Paint the scenery with gloomy prose, describing everything. The day had already exhausted me, unfortunately. I didn't have the energy for it.

  Sally had been sending me updates every two minutes to let me know she was alive. At first, I appreciated it - but after the tenth message I ran out of social battery to reply. The waitress was a decent person, and perhaps even better at this apocalypse bullshit than me, but I could only abide her in small doses. As much as I was trying to be less of an antisocial person, I had my limits.

  Which is one of the reasons the building in front of me was eroding at whatever patience I had left.

  The prospect of having to talk to monsters and somehow gain a Quest was a drain. Things were much more straightforward when I just had to kill opponents and get experience that way. I imagined that there was something in place to stop me from just blowing through whoever was in the tavern with the business end of my axe.

  My view didn’t change much the closer I got to the building. There was a large figure standing outside the door that I could now see.

  //Sally: Arrived back at the bunker.

  //Sally: Will keep you updated on Bucky.

  //Scarlet: Just about at the tavern, thanks.

  I sighed and allowed myself to relax. My focus switched to the task at hand and getting the useful skillbook for completing the quest. I swapped my new knuckleduster into the first slot of my three weapons. Not that it changed much, but I felt more comfortable with it being mentally closer. If I got into a brawl, there might not be enough room inside to swing an axe or heavy sledgehammer.

  Not that I should be putting that out in to the world.

  As I got close, I could see that the figure standing outside the tavern was much larger than a human - almost the size of the cyclops that I had fought. A small glowing light hung near his face, which must be something he was smoking.

  Light rain fell down from the sky, and I rolled my shoulders out ready. Into my hand, I withdrew the crumpled box of cigarettes. Show time.

  I approached the bouncer of the tavern.

  [Security Troll (Level 8 Elite)]

  It was nice of the System to give me a heads up, so I had even less reasons to try punching my way through this problem. He was a dull gray-blue, darkened further by the overcast sky and awning protecting him from the light rain. With another sigh, I straightened out one of the cigarettes and put it in my mouth.

  The large troll looked down at me, puffing slowly on a pipe. While his clothing was dirty and simple, the thick mace standing against the wall beside him was as professional as it got. Like a cudgel, but as large as a baseball bat. Thicker than my arm. He narrowed his eyes as I paused in front of him.

  “Got a light?”

  He grunted and slowly stretched out his hand. In his grasp was a small device made of dark stone and curled metal strips. With a gentle squeeze, it clicked and sparked, producing a small flame. I leaned forward and lit up the miserable cigarette.

  “Thanks.” I took a brief puff, the burn of past memories lingering in my throat. “What’s the crowd like today?”

  As the troll placed his lighter away, he gave me another disinterested look, perhaps wondering if I was worth talking to. Eventually, he grunted out a response. “Quiet. Boring until night.”

  I nodded along, trying to look through the frosted windows to see inside. There was the hint of lantern lights and the soft murmur of several conversations, but nothing to indicate danger or violence. Still, it was nice that this monster didn’t want to crack my skull open at present.

  “You the only bouncer here for the…” My eyes went up to the hanging sign on the side of the building. “…Dancing Otter?”

  “Yeah. Drob only one needed.”

  “You look like you can take care of troublemakers.” I drew on the cigarette again. It was a terrible brand that didn’t make this act any more enjoyable. “Then again, I bet there's plenty that have to learn the hard way, even with you here.”

  He grunted but smiled. “Dorb good teacher.”

  “It was the same for me when I worked security at a bar. Even with a team of six of us, alcohol seems to make people think they are invincible.” It was more a nightclub, and two were rookies, but it was close enough to the muddy truth to be a story.

  Dorb tilted his head. “Little human was bouncer?”

  “For a while, yeah.” I dropped the cigarette to the ground and snubbed it out with my boot. “Maybe if this adventuring gig doesn’t work out, I’ll come help you knock some sense into the drunkards here.”

  He chuckled. “Boss might not like. Does sound fun to Dorb, though. Don’t go making trouble, little human.”

  I held out my hand. “Scarlet. I’ll definitely try to stay on your good side, Dorb.”

  “Scar-let,” he repeated, as he did his best to not tear my wrist apart while shaking my hand.

  With a nod of understanding, I stepped past him to push on the tavern door - if only to find something to get the taste of smoke out of my mouth. Warmth washed over me as I stepped onto the wooden floorboards of the tavern interior. The air was thick with the smell of ale, sawdust, and the burning log fire over on the left.

  The place was furnished just as I would have imagined it to be, based on whatever pop culture references I had retained. A long bar opposite the entrance, and maybe a dozen tables surrounded by chairs. All in that rustic, earthy brown tone that complimented the rough beige brickwork.

  As for the occupants…

  It was like I had stepped into the lunch break of a Lord of the Rings casting. Humans, elves, and a few dwarves sat in small groups in quiet conversation. After seeing mostly aggressive monsters out in the wild, having so many neutral and familiar—if fantastical—figures was briefly disorientating.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Secondly, I had perhaps been foolishly believing that there would be someone standing around with an exclamation mark over their head. Just… waiting to give out the Quest that was here. Although, now that I allowed some of the dissociation to ripple and waver across my psyche, the whole situation felt strange.

  Ignoring the part where I had potentially made a temporary ally in the doorman, it didn’t make much sense for these people to be here. Were they here all day long, as set pieces? Or were their camps and areas further afield that they traveled between? If it weren’t for the mental stun keeping me in place, I might have done a little detective work and questioned the inhabitants.

  Instead, I drew up the shortest straw and started as I began - getting a drink. A few customers gave me glances, but none seemed to linger. I made it across the room to the stools by the empty bar and took a seat.

  The barkeep stepped into view from behind a wood pillar and gave me a toothy grin. He was a broad man, with a curly black beard and rosy cheeks. Typical apron over his simple clothing, with a dishrag hung over his shoulder at the ready.

  “What can I do for you, lass?” he asked, his tone friendly.

  Most likely because I had gold in my pocket that he would rather have in his. In my experience, a charismatic drinks server did a lot better than their grumpier relatives. I could see in his eyes that it was an act, at least in part. A good business owner was also shrewd when it mattered.

  “Pint of ale, for starters. You also got anything bottled? Top shelf, maybe.”

  “Aye. Cause for celebration, perhaps?”

  I raised an eyebrow as he glanced below the counter. “Depends on how much you want to try to fleece me.”

  He hesitated for a moment before his grin widened. “Ah, might I assume you are something of a connoisseur, miss?”

  “You might.” In truth, I wasn’t too knowledgeable about vintages or what made a champagne good or not. Partly I was hoping he was grabbing some hard liquor, or at least a high proof wine. There was a method to my madness, but if I could get something decent to drink at the same time, then I’d be content.

  “Ale will be five gold,” he said, placing an empty mug down at the ready. “Our finest mead is one-hundred fifty gold, or if this is a gift for a gentleman, then we have some aged whisky for one-hundred eighty.”

  I maintained a blank expression with the man, while I decided which part of his sales pitch I was more offended by. Eventually, I gestured over to the wall behind him with a slow nod. “Your board says whatever is on tap is two gold per pint.”

  He turned his glance to the chalk wording written back there, and his smile didn’t waver. “So it does. You’re a sharp one, miss.”

  “Well, I didn’t come here to get rinsed for my hard earned money.” I pulled two gold coins out from my Inventory and placed them on the counter. “Let’s start with the ale and repair some trust before I bring out the coin purse.”

  The owner of the nightclub had been the same way. Spent most of his time in the back office counting dollars rather than having to be the charismatic face of the establishment, so he had the barkeep beat in that respect.

  “I can’t say no to that.” He took the coins and pulled the mug underneath one of the taps. “So what is it that brings such a competent and discerning woman to the Dancing Otter?”

  “Most people come to these sorts of places either to remember or to forget. I’m hoping a little coin might help you remember some information that might be helpful for an adventurer.” Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure despite my internal monologue having no idea what I was doing. "Then I'll forget your transgressions."

  It wasn’t that long ago I was griping about how some people were fine in small doses, and now I was roleplaying to these human-like but otherworldly entities. Perhaps violence would be an easier answer if the System wasn’t making this part of existence as game-like as I hoped.

  “Ah,” he responded, and some of the lustre left his face. “You’re one of those.”

  I assumed he meant an adventurer, rather than… some other fourth-wall breaking thing. They must be aware they were in the middle of nowhere on this new planet, but beyond that…

  “You get many… adventurers as clientele?” I asked, wondering if the local whacko had paid a visit here.

  The barkeep put the full mug down in front of me and gestured to the small seated crowd. “Nothing but, lass. It’s been quite some time since one like you came sniffing around for trouble. If you want the job, I’ll give you the details for free… but there’s a reason why none of these fine people are taking up the work.”

  Other than not being real, I thought. That would probably offend them less if said out loud rather than putting into question their bravery or ability. Either way, I wanted that skillbook reward, and getting the ball rolling would allow me to address the messages from Sally waiting in the corner of my vision.

  “Humor me.” I glanced down at the ale briefly before bringing it up to my lips. More fool me if I was poisoned, but I had no reason to distrust the barkeep when he was so clearly money-oriented.

  His eyes went left and right before he leaned on the counter, getting closer to me and lowering his voice. “There’s a village southwest of here—Hammergate—where everyone has gone missing. People say there is a creature that killed everyone, but nobody has seen it, and none return from their investigations.”

  [Quest Offered: Investigate Hammergate]

  [Accept/Decline?]

  The obstructive message popping up in my vision was a dampener on the barkeep’s tale. From where I sat, it was equally likely to be something mundane related to the System or an unknown monster I hadn’t come across yet. Either way, the reward was waiting.

  “Sure sounds like something I could look into,” I managed, selecting the accept option.

  “I hope you’ve written your will then, miss.” He stood back up straight and shook his head. “Hate to see so many young lives thrown away, but such is the will of an adventurer.” He stared wistfully over at the fireplace. Above it hung a shield and a crossed pair of swords.

  “Were you once an adventurer?” I asked.

  He shook his head and returned a wide grin. “Soldier, but rest assured, I faced a good many monsters in my days.”

  I lifted up my mug in a toast. “To slaying monsters, then.”

  His smile softened. “Customers call me Big Paul. Returning customers can even drop the affix. Are you sure I can’t convince you to avoid Hammergate?”

  For a brief moment, I was caught off-guard by the attempt to stop me. The fact that this System-created person cared enough to try to warn me away from danger was either very grounding, or extremely suspicious. Was he even fake in that way, though? Richard had said all the monsters and events were plucked from other worlds. It didn’t seem like they had the free will to leave their designated roles, so… I had no clue.

  “I’ll do you one better than that,” I responded. “When I return here, having killed the creature, I want a good deal on four bottles of quality mead.”

  Paul’s eyes twinkled. “If you manage that, then I’ll only overcharge you on two of the bottles.”

  “Deal.” I downed the rest of the ale.

  It wasn’t the worst thing I had ever drank, but I wasn’t a huge fan of it. Definitely felt as authentic as the rest of the tavern, and I was hesitant to admit it… but it was actually rather comforting in here. It was warm and relatively sturdy. Not filled with dead bodies. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was also food on offer. A staircase off to the side ran up to the next floor, where I assumed I’d find rooms to rent.

  Part of the System or not, I felt like this place needed saving. While not that much more secure than the motel as a base of operations—and further from the city—it was the first place that reminded me of functional society and erased the weight of the apocalypse.

  Big Paul went off to serve one of the tables, leaving me to ponder the bottom of my mug alongside my STAR messages.

  //Sally: Richard says Bucky is ill but shouldn’t die.

  //Sally: He thinks he is able to help but will take some time.

  //Sally: Then he vanished.

  //Sally: To do magical vegetarian stuff.

  //Scarlet: You mean veterinarian?

  //Sally: He is a man of many talents.

  //Sally: You doing alright?

  //Scarlet: Picked up the Quest and a pint of ale. Didn’t roll low on charisma.

  //Sally: slay

  //Sally: I’m trying to convince Doris to pod it up

  //Sally: Then it’ll be my time to babysit.

  I closed the messages down, unsure how to respond to that. It was a good thing, and necessary, but between the diner owner and the dog, I had too many thoughts and not enough answers.

  So instead, I looked at the Map. Hammergate was there now, as if accepting the Quest had spawned it into existence. I wouldn’t put that past the System. It wasn’t too far off, so if I got moving I might be able to get this done before nightfall. Maybe pick up my reward of overpriced mead.

  My intention to trade was more to get an idea of how commerce worked here with only the single denomination. The price of ale wouldn’t really give me an estimate of how much a curse removal item would cost, but at least I had some metric to work with.

  I gave the barkeep a nod as I stood and flipped him another gold coin as a tip.

  There was a mystery to solve, and my axe craved answers.