The City, Part V (Preparations; Departure)

"Our best bet is to take down a newborn and harvest its core," says Clyde.

We're holed up in the inn Calarel had pointed us to. It's the one that hugs the side of the Monster Hunter's Association outpost. It's a generally cozy place. Old bones, but clean and well-maintained. The main room of the inn smelled like lavender, smoked meats, and just the faintest tingle of something metallic I couldn't quite place. I could taste the tang on the tip of my tongue, but had decided not to ask the innkeeper about it when we rented our room.

Calarel swore by it. Said it was "worth every damn copper" for travelers who wanted a balance of comfort and a place of safety—from both the City and whatever troubles they might have carried in with them.

"Place is owned and operated by retired adventurers, so the entire building and each room is magically warded," she had told us. She shot me a curious look. "Including protections from locating spells and scrying."

I had choked and stumbled into a nervous coughing fit. "Why would we need to be protected from those things?"

"I don't know," Calarel had said with a smirk. "Just thought it was worth mentioning."

"Sounds great, actually," Veronica had said, bailing me out of the situation. I looked past Calarel, whispering a silent 'thank you.'

After thanking the seasoned monster hunter and quietly huddling up as a party, we ultimately decided to get a room and lay low for the rest of the day.

"We can't be sure those elves you ran into are prowling the streets or not," said Clyde.

"Fine by me," I responded with a shrug. "We can just hit the shops early tomorrow before setting out for…" I checked my Map menu. "Mount Alkazab."

Our room cost us two silver pieces for the night. It was one of the bigger ones the inn offered, on the second floor, with two real beds, stone walls with carved runes that shimmered like holographic trading cards when you got close enough to them, and a personal bathroom, which was probably the most surprising thing I'd seen since entering this Realm. Well, perhaps calling it a bathroom was overkill. It has a hole in a bench for doing our business, which thankfully has a cover flap on it, a pot of flowers that are heavily scented, and a basin of water with a clean cloth. Is this technically a water closet, then? I'm not sure.

We had a simple meal in the inn's main room, where we also scored adventuring packs from a member of the Hunter's Association. Cost us another silver piece for three packs, which felt like a steal, all considering. The packs came with bedrolls, waterskins, some preserved rations, and—most interestingly—magically-infused heating stones that, when activated, generated the heat of a bonfire as well as light, if we so chose. The hunter who sold us the packs suggested the stones each had a charge equal to about three nights' worth of heat and light.

After dinner, we retreated to our room, where we've been hanging out since.

I'm on the floor, shirt off, doing push-ups until my arms feel like they've been dipped in acid. Crunches next. Then, bodyweight squats. I'm not doing it to gain more strength. Not even sure it'd have any benefit on my physique at this point having a System-enhanced body. I just… need to feel human. Despite being able to do these exercises for hours on end, I eventually feel that satisfying burn.

Clyde's got the red book cracked open. He's reading aloud in his usual deep, gravel-meets-whiskey tone.

"A dragon's breath weapon is a force of death and destruction, capable of wiping out entire elven towns. In my time studying the Storm Dragons, I have found that—when fully rested—an adult dragon is capable of deploying their breath weapon three times. Following that, they regain a use about every thirty seconds. In comparison, newborn dragons not only have far weaker breath weapons, but seem to have a much longer re-charge time between uses."

"Wait," I grunt from the floor. "Did you really just suggest we… Kill a baby?" I pause mid-crunch. "I don't know how I feel about that man."

Clyde glances over the edge of the book. "Storm Dragons are constantly mating and soon after hatching, a mother will abandon their young to immediately mate again. It's not like we'd be devastating the ecosystem."

"I'm just not sure I'd want to kill anything in baby form," I respond. "What if it's like really really cute?"

Veronica snorts. She's on one of the beds, back propped against the wall. Jelly Boy's in her lap, halfway between a housecat and an octopus with a mustache, because apparently that's what comedy looks like to him today. She continues to absentmindedly mold him with her hands—stretching him like taffy, shaping him into increasingly bizarre silhouettes. They've been at this for at least an hour. At one point, he became a crude approximation of a duck.

"The fact is, if we're going to get out of this Gate alive, we need to make some tough decisions," Clyde continues. "And this journal says dragons do not develop sapience until well into adulthood, so if we take down a newborn, it's not too different from hunting."

"Great," I say, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. "What's to say we won't get no-diff'd by a baby dragon, anyways?"

Jelly Boy tries to become a thundercloud. Fails. Becomes a butt instead. Veronica laughs and flicks him on his jelly cheek.

"Stop encouraging him," I say, grinning nevertheless.

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"He's an artist," she replies. "And you're just jealous of his versatility."

"I can also become a butt."

"Only metaphorically," Clyde says without missing a beat. "And this book doesn't mention anything about levels, so it's difficult to tell. But if a baby is too high leveled then we have bigger problems."

"And we can always run away," adds Veronica. She has a point.

We settle into a strange kind of quiet after that. Not tense. Just... the kind of stillness that hangs before a storm. Maybe that's appropriate.

Clyde eventually picks back up with reading interesting snippets from the journal.

After a while, we divvy up shifts for the night and eventually get some rest. I take first watch. I sit there in the darkness of the room, mentally running through the facts about Storm Dragons that Clyde recited, hoping the information is enough to make up the difference. Something in the dark recesses of my mind tells me that we're setting out the following morning on an absolute suicide mission.

The sky's still blushing with dawn when we step out of the inn. The city's just beginning to stir. Shopkeepers unlatch shutters, carts creak into place, and street sweepers shuffle along the cobbles with a tired, worn down look in their eyes.

We move fast. Low profile. Heads down. Veronica's already picked three shops she wants to hit, and frankly, I'm too tired and too under-caffeinated to argue. The shopping list is simple: armor Veronica up like a human tank and stock up on potions. If we have time, Clyde, Jelly Boy and I can get something too.

First shop is a blacksmith's forge tucked under a yawning awning of scorched canvas. It smells like iron. The smith doesn't talk much. Just grunts when Veronica starts trying on armor pieces like she's at some medieval Macy's.

She settles on a pair of bronze gauntlets that gleam in the light like sun-warmed honey and a gorget, which I learn is what you call the armor that protects your neck. Clyde also has her pick up a circular iron shield, which she equips into 'ready' mode. The round shield appears on her back after a flash of pixelated light. She then equips it with a mental command and it appears on her forearm.

That's convenient.

I scan each of the purchased pieces of equipment.

[Bronze Gauntlets]

[Description: Basic bronze gauntlets.]

Armor Rating: 1

Attributes:

+15 Health

+1 Constitution

[Bronze Gorget]

[Description: Basic bronze gorget]

Armor Rating 1

Attributes:

+30 Health

+1 Constitution

[Iron Shield]

[Description: A small, round iron shield.]

Armor Rating: 2

What the hell is an Armor Rating?

I squint, focusing on the words. The System answers my confusion with a small window of text.

Armor Rating: A numerical representation of an item's passive defensive capability. Higher numbers provide greater mitigation of physical damage. Enchanted items may also provide elemental resistances or special effects.

Neat, I think. How did I not notice Armor Ratings in equipment descriptions before?

I pull up my Equipment Menu and scan my own equipment.

[Basic Cone Hat of Wizardry]

[Description: Class wizard chic. Provides no actual protection, but hey, you'll look the part.]

Attributes:

+1 Willpower

Odd…

[Cape of the Arcane Student]

[Description: This flimsy cloth cape is the hallmark of every novice spell-flinger. Try not to die in it. Grants wearer use of one free Cantrip spell once per day.]

Not even the Trousers of the Serpentine Lord offer a single point of Armor Rating. Well, shit… Was I really that vulnerable?

"Uh… Hey, Clyde?"

"Yeah?"

"Does your pauldron have an Armor Rating?"

"Hm. Yeah. A 0.50 Armor Rating."

What the hell?! "Cool, cool."

Clyde shrugs, tightening the straps on a leather chestpiece he just bought.

I frown. "I want armor."

"Then buy armor," Veronica says, already punching the air with her new gauntlets. Jelly Boy clings to her leg like a gelatinous koala.

There's a chainmail vest that fits me like it was woven by blacksmith cherubs. I try it on, slotting it into the appropriate equipment slot. I'm immediately met with an item description in my HUD.

Equipped: Chainmail Vest

[Description: A simple chainmail vest.]

Armor Rating: 0.75

Attributes:

+20 Health

[Note: You do not meet the minimum requirements to gain benefits from this item. No Armor Rating will be applied.]

"What requirements?" I hiss. This time, the System has no helpful answer.

I make a noise somewhere between a groan and a small, impotent scream. I unequip the chainmail, Fleetwood Mac tee shirt taking its place once again. Veronica pats my shoulder sympathetically.

"You are a spellcaster," Clyde says.

At the next shop, I sell the wand. The wand that was once my lifeline and is now about as useful as a banana in a sword fight thanks to my new Class. With the proceeds and an additional gold piece, I purchase a Bracelet of Reprise that Veronica had identified for me during our window shopping yesterday.

[Bracelet of Reprise]

[Description: A bracelet with the capability of recalling the use of special Skills. Effect: Store a single known Skill. May be used once per day for a bonus activation of that Skill. Skill slot refreshes every 24 hours.]

It's a band of silver-black metal, thin and cool and humming with potential. I can't wait to use this.

"Feeling better?" Clyde asks, adjusting the shoulder pads on his new leather set. The pauldron is strapped over the armor. It's sleek, dark, and surprisingly fashionable.

"Marginally," I say. "Still armorless. But now I have a magical bracelet, so that's cool."

"With Veronica, the goal is for you to not need armor. If you need armor, then shit's gone real sideways," Clyde says.

Our last stop is the alchemist's shop Veronica and I visited yesterday.

We stock up: Healing potions? Check. Mana potions? Oh yeah. Stamina potions? You fucking know it.

We also snag three invisibility potions. The vials look empty, but when I pick up one of them it has weight in my palm, as though filled with liquid. It's odd, and I would be nervous that we were being scammed if it wasn't for the System's description.

[Invisibility Potion, Fair Quality]

[Description: When consumed, the user will become invisible for 3 minutes. All clothing and equipment will also become invisible. Taking damage will shorten the effective length of this potion.]

Gold drains from our shared purse like water through a sieve. By the time we're done, we're broke enough to make a peasant scoff, but rich in the currency of not dying, which is honestly the only one I care about right now.

Clyde checks his menu and the status of our remaining coins. "We've got… seven silver and a decent amount of copper left."

I look over the bracelet now on my wrist. "Let's hope we're not taking toll roads up that mountain."

Jelly Boy buzzes—a low, sad sound. He's still upset he didn't get any new equipment (but not for our lack of trying… He didn't meet the requirements for any of it.)

Veronica grins, shield glinting on her back. "Now all we have to do is slay a dragon… Even if it's a baby dragon."

I nod. "Standard Tuesday."

Jelly Boy perks up at the sound of our suicidal mission.

I sigh, adjusting my pack. "Yeah, let's go kill a dragon."

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