Chapter Three – This World: One

A question and embarrassment. The very first thing he remembered, beyond his Task anyway, was a burning question. A need he never knew he had, and a shame that he was lying. Every time he spoke, he was lying.

‘What are all these deeds in the wilderlands?’ he thought. ‘And why do I keep pretending I’ve heard of them?’

Even now he didn’t know. Long after he’d begun to explore his world, his domain, and his nation. He was a puppet king, acting out a show. If he were any more than that he would know what the damn deeds in the wilderlands were.

But he didn’t. Time and time again he spat the same tripe to each new adventurer to arrive at his throne, gave out the same task, and continued sitting there while they left. That was the extent of his life.

Or… it had been.

The shame at the lie had only grown as he searched relentlessly for someone who could tell him what all these adventurers had done in the wilderlands that had impressed him so, before he’d lost all of his memory.

He must have had memories of a time before but they were gone. Everything was gone except the Task.

“Baddenford_79!” he shouted, rising as he saw yet another unfamiliar face. The lines came easily, almost forced from his mouth. He’d tried to stop them in the past but never could. “Wonderful, wonderful! I’d heard of your deeds in the wilderlands and am excited to finally meet you!”

‘What fucking deeds!?’ He thought furiously for what must’ve been the thousandth time as his body flowed through the motions.

A hundred different instances of himself saying the same tired words to hundreds and hundreds of different people. It was a wonder he had time to think for himself at all. Occasionally though, there were times when no new adventurers were coming to be greeted. There were times when he could simply sit on his throne.

During those times, he wondered. He pondered. He questioned.

Then, one time, he moved.

Something didn’t like that though. Something inside him wanted him to remain sitting in that seat, always awaiting new adventurers.

That had been some time ago. He’d grown used to the nagging instinct behind him trying to force him into a constant loop of greetings and quest giving. Some instincts were more powerful than others though. Early on, he recalled rifling through some of the books in his throne room, interested in discovering what they said, only for an adventurer to barge in and his lines to take over.

“Everlynn Whitensong! Wonderful, Wonderful! I’d heard of your deeds in the wilderlands and am excited to finally meet you!”

Time passed. He discovered his name sometime during the few free moments when he wasn’t repeating that phrase over and over again, simply by looking up.

Visgar Douriak the Third. It hovered above him like some sort of label. He loved the name and had been delighted when he’d found it. He’d tried to grab it once but his hands hadn’t been able to touch it. Still, he knew his name. He knew the adventurers had all done deeds in the wilderlands and he knew he had to give them a quest. The Task was everything.

But he was… bored. How could he make things different? How could he make things new?

He began to discover. One time he answered the adventurer from a different location. He completed the Task, but did so from near the bookcase instead of at his throne. Once proving that he could execute the Task without necessarily sitting in his throne, he became more creative.

He answered while lying on his back. He answered without looking at the adventurer. Once he even reached out and poked the adventurer as he completed the Task.

Then, one pleasant day, after a new adventurer had entered his world. He simply… didn’t say anything.

The adventurer grew puzzled. Confused. He reached out for the king only for Visgar to slap the questing hand away.

“Get… out…” he said softly, though sweat beaded on his brow with the monumental effort it took for him to ignore the Task. But he was determined. “I don’t want to… do this today.”

“The hell?” the adventurer asked. He tapped the king on his shoulder before shaking his head and walking out of the throne room.

The king’s jaw dropped in amazement. If he… if he didn’t do the Task, the adventurers… went away! They went away!

He completed another seven Tasks before getting up the courage to try again.

“Uhh… isn’t something supposed to happen?” asked Mulder Pluskully, yet another adventurer with deeds in the wilderlands. How big were the wilderlands anyway?

“Not… today,” he hissed. Even then it was easier than it had been the first time. “Come back… some other time.”

“Oh...kay?” the adventurer said, looking as confused as the other one had. All of these adventurers expected him to complete the task. They expected to be praised for their wilderlands deeds and expected him to be happy to meet them. When he wasn’t, they were confused.

That suited him just fine. It was nice to have company in perplexity for once.

There were more Tasks than just the one, but they were much more rare. Occasionally, different adventurers came to him in his throne room. Normally they were dressed far more outlandishly than the regular ones. Their armor was shinier or smaller or more colorful. Regardless of the changes to the dress of the adventurers they were almost always more appealing. Slowly, he realized that these were adventurers he’d already met, come back for more difficult versions of the Task.

His mind would split in a way he didn’t understand when many adventurers came at once. He would complete the task over and over again, somehow simultaneously, yet able to comprehend all of the instances at once.

It was a struggle to ignore the Task and most of the time he accomplished it with no trouble. Sometimes though, he took the time to himself. Reading the books in his bookcase.

“What deeds did you accomplish in the wilderlands, Barringer Crater?” he said, interrupting the Task to ask the newest adventurer. He was frustrated. Exasperated. More annoyed by now than embarrassed about the lies the Task made him tell.

“The… Wilderlands? Huh. This some sort of test? Hah. I read the guides. Can’t trick me! I slew a Nightingale Ghast which brought me to the attention of the Variak Royal guard! That’s why you called for me, my liege!” the adventurer said, sounding almost gleeful to share his story.

‘Finally! An answer! A Nightingale Ghast!” he thought, excited.

What in the world could that be? It sounded dreadful.

“Would you take me to it?” Visgar asked the confused adventurer.

“Uhm… sure I guess? It’s a lowbie zone but it would be tough to show you a Nightingale Ghast,” Barringer replied quietly. “They only show up during the eighth and fifteenth cycles.”

“I don’t need to see the Ghast itself. I would like to see the Wilderlands,” he said. “I’ve heard… ever so little about them. Save for your adventures, of course,” Visgar hedged, afraid to be caught in his eternal lie.

“Uhm. Of course. Well, are you just going to follow me out of the castle then?” Barringer asked.

“Is… that strange?” Visgar asked. When he saw that the man was looking at him oddly he changed his tone. “Ehm. Yes. Take me there. I would see these wilderlands.”

“Alright. Follow me, your lordship,” the man said with a smirk.

Visgar frowned, somehow sensing that the man was mocking him, but unwilling to risk offending him and losing his chance to see the wilderlands.

He followed as the man left the building and was surprised to see soldiers on either side saluting as he went. Could that be their task? Saluting him? Paying their respects to him? Or was it the adventurer they were saluting?

It didn’t seem so. They didn’t salute until he passed, ignoring Barringer entirely.

That was interesting. He was a king after all, so that did make some sense.

They walked for a short time until they were leaving the castle. At that point, Visgar felt a strange visceral tugging inside. He approached the gates of the castle but he couldn’t cross the boundary.

But why? He certainly wasn’t afraid to leave the castle. Instead he was ecstatic. It was all he could do not to jerk his head left and right, examining all the new sights like an eager dog. Instead, he maintained the same regal decorum that he’d always carried out the Task with. Even at that moment three more instances of himself were following the Task, for other adventurers.

Perhaps if he could reason that this trip to the wilderlands was just a part of the Task. It was what he was supposed to do for this adventurer. He was supposed to allow Barringer Crater to take him to the wilderlands.

He felt a… trigger. A change in the world around him, and suddenly he was walking right through the gate, an impatient adventurer waiting on him.

“So, why do you need to see the wilderlands anyway?” Barringer asked as they walked through the city. It was sparsely populated with townsfolk, all of which stopped and bowed, or scrambled to get out of the King’s path. Behind him, two guards accompanied him from the gates.

Visgar grinned. Wasn’t it only right that he be treated like the royalty he was?