“No,” Bonekraka says, being the first to shut down Fenrir’s hopes and dreams.

“Come on! A fishing tournament! That sounds like tons of fun!” Fenrir tries winning the orc over, but he knows that just words would never work.

“Sorry, Fenny, but I’ve spent enough time on ships and that boat. I want to actually do other things, too,” Oleander says.

“I can’t really see myself having any fun with that either,” Cassiel says.

The only ones to not immediately dismiss Fenrir’s interest in the tournament are Rock and Serra. Even so, the majority is against him. He isn’t so selfish that he would try and demand them to follow along, either.

“Alright. I’ll try learning if there’s entry for individuals instead of just crews,” Fenrir says. From what he overheard from the two discussing the tournament on a pier, it is a massive tournament where crews manning ships compete against one another in various fishing-related objectives. It sounded like an insane amount of fun to Fenrir, but he realizes that nobody else matches his interest. “Wait, before we split up, we should sell the cargo and split up the profit. That way we actually have some spending money.”

The party agrees.

Fenrir hides how disappointed and stupid he feels for getting so excited about the tournament. He got way too far ahead of himself way too quickly. The moment he heard about it, he was already beginning to imagine himself and the rest of the party out sailing on their ship fully decked out in fishing equipment.

But, this is what always happens. It's what has always happened ever since he was a kid, and will likely continue to always happen. What he wants to do is just always so different from what everybody else wants to do. Sure, the stars align occasionally to let everybody want the same thing, but that's rare.

He's just always doing what everybody else wants to do when it really comes down to it. Spending time with his friends doing what they want is more important than selfishly pursuing his own interests alone.

There's no point in worrying about it anymore. Why is he so upset about it in the first place?

The damn cork must have been loosened a bit from not paying attention to the bottle in a while. Things have just been going too well lately. Of course he can't always get his way and do exactly what he wants. To expect that is just selfish. He already feels guilty just for being upset about them all shooting down the tournament. This is a game. Games are meant for everybody to have fun. He's had his fun, so now it's time to let everybody else have theirs. As long as his friends are happy, he'll be happy.

Oleander takes charge. Bonekraka and Fenrir move all the cargo up onto the pier while Oleander gathers information from anybody he can.

He knows how to get information out of people.

Whether it is because his targets want to get rid of him or want to do other things to him, he can almost always get his way.

By the time Fenrir and Bonekraka have finished bringing up all the crates and barrels, Oleander already has an interested merchant inspecting the goods.

“This everything?” the merchant, a rather chubby looking man wearing fancy clothes, asks.

“Yup! Only thing not included is me, unfortunately,” Oleander teases.

“Hmm. What’s in the barrels?”

“Do you really have to ask that?”

“Of course I do. Why would I buy something that I don’t know anything about?”

“Alright, let me whisper it to you,” Oleander says, standing up on his tiptoes to whisper into the merchant’s ears.

Whatever Oleander is saying, it’s putting a huge grin on the merchant’s face. “I think I’m interested in buying. How does twenty-three gold sound?” the merchant asks.

“Thirty,” Oleander replies, his voice more serious than before.

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-five.”

Oleander pauses to “think” about it. “Fine, deal!”

The merchant claps his hands together before shaking Oleander’s. Oleander has twenty-five gold coins in his hand when he pulls it back. “I’ll have my men come over and take all of this away from you. Thank you for the business,” the merchant says.

“No problem!” Oleander turns back to the rest of the crew with a smug satisfaction.

“What’d you say was in those barrels?” Cassiel asks.

“An aphrodisiac extracted from monsters in the north and diluted into water. I told him that any girl who drinks it will screw him,” Oleander explains.

“He… he bought that? The game… doesn’t even let stuff like that happen, I’m pretty sure,” Cassiel says. The rest of them look dumbfounded as well.

“Look at him. He’s gross looking, and he was totally checking you two out the whole time,” Oleander says to Serra and Cassiel. “I doubt he gets any girls himself, and the way he looks so flashy means that he’s willing to flaunt his wealth and likely has more of it than he knows what to do with, so he was an easy target.”

“Do you have any idea what was really in the barrels?” Fenrir asks.

“I’dunno. Probably just more booze or something,” Oleander says.

“What are we going to do if we get in trouble and he comes looking for his money back?”

“We’re in a pirate city, aren’t we? It’s his own fault for being stupid if he gets scammed.”

“I have no idea how somebody like him could be wealthy if he gets scammed so easily.”

Oleander shrugs. “Doesn’t matter now! Here,” he says, splitting the gold coins up to give each party member five coins. “I figured that getting twenty-five coins would make it easier since somebody,” he looks at Bonekraka, “hates when payouts aren’t even.”

Bonekraka snorts and grumbles. He’s really beginning to act more and more like an orc.

“Alright, good job, Olly. Let’s split up now,” Fenrir says.

With that, the group splits into two. Oleander and Bonekraka head off to find a bar to have some fun in. Fenrir, Cassiel, and Serra look for some new clothes. As much as Serra doesn’t mind wearing only bark armor around the group, being in a city full of players everywhere she looks is incredibly embarrassing. It’s only made worse by the fact that there are plenty of men and women alike checking her out as they walk.

She wonders just how many of the girls they pass by are actually girls.

“Man, this city is huge,” Fenrir says. There are buildings going as far inland as they can see, climbing up along the cliffs, huge taverns full of life, ships constantly going to and from the docks, and more. “I wonder how many people are here right now.”

“Probably at least a few hundred thousand. It’s one of the biggest cities in the game, so it’s going to be full of players. That’s not even counting the NPCs,” Cassiel says.

“You’d never see this many people living near the ocean in real life. By the way, how do NPCs work in this?”

Serra listens in while holding Rock. They don’t trust Rock to not run off alone somewhere in a city that is full of distractions. Serra also occasionally looks up at Fenrir with concerned eyes. She can tell that he's hiding something, but she doesn't know what. Something just feels... off, from the way that he's talking. It's like he's forcing himself to put on a smile and happy voice.

“You know the saying ‘if you build it, they will come?’ Well, it basically works like that. If a bunch of players settle down anywhere, NPCs will come and want to move in as long as there are houses available. Sometimes they’ll even build their own,” Cassiel explains.

“Where do they come from, though?” Fenrir asks.

“Nobody is really sure. Some have been tracked moving between cities, but most just… appear. The theory is that they appear the same way monsters and animals do. The overseer decides when and where some NPCs should pop up and brings them to life. It’s something the virtual assistants won’t ever say anything about, so it’s either secret or would be immersion-breaking to officially explain it.”

“I see, thanks.”

“Got any more questions to harass me with?”

“What is the meaning of life? What does the number forty-two really mean? What—”

Cassiel points her sword at him.

“Oi! No fightin’ within city limits!” a nearby guard shouts, rushing over.

“Don’t worry, we’re just friends messing around,” Fenrir covers for her as she sheaths her sword. “Oh, and we’re new here. Are there any rules we should know?”

The guard looks them over. “Yeah, some. No fightin’, no cheatin’ or scammin’, and be respectful,” the guard explains.

The group blinks their eyes. Even Rock looks confused.

“This… that sounds like some weird rules for a pirate city,” Fenrir says.

“Stereotypin' is the opposite of bein’ respectful.”

“Just – just to be absolutely sure, you’re not screwing around with us or anything, right?”

“You think I take my job lightly? Of course I’m not screwin’ around with you. You asked me a question, and I answered it honestly! That’s how we do things around these parts!”

Fenrir whispers to Cassiel, “I thought these guys were pirates?”

“I – I’ve never met them myself and only know stories about them,” Cassiel whispers back.

Looking the guard over, Fenrir sees a patch on his shoulder with a skull that has a black mustache and a striped flag with stars on it behind the skull. He’s wearing an open leather vest, loose pants, and has a scimitar strapped to his side. He undoubtedly looks like a pirate.

“So the pirates here are like… lawful pirates?” Fenrir asks, trying to make sense of this.

“We’re Blackstache’s pirates, and that’s all that matters,” the guard says.

“Alright, and Blackstache – he’s a lawful pirate?”

“Aye.”

This Blackstache figure must be a pretty damn great leader to have all of these wannabe pirates whipped into behaving.

“Alright, thanks. We’ll behave our best,” Fenrir says. The guard nods and heads back to his post.

“What if we get in trouble for Olly scamming that merchant?” Serra asks.

“I don’t think we need to worry about that. It sounds like he wouldn’t be allowed to try and track us down to attack us, and if he reports us, he’ll have to explain that he was buying something which would basically let him date-rape girls. I doubt the guards would be kind to him if they’re the lawful types,” Fenrir explains.

“These pirates are boring.”

“Yeah, I really wasn’t expecting them to be so… good. I wish I could see how disappointed Olly is when he realizes they’re not a bunch of pillagers and rapists.”

“I – I don’t understand,” Cassiel cuts in. “That’s what everybody always says about them and why everybody is at war with them.”

“Does the Augus Empire do a lot of work with that Indra person?” Fenrir asks.

“Yeah, they do. They’re allies right now.”

“There you have it. You were always a part of the Augus Empire, and they’re friends with Indra, so I doubt Indra wants anybody thinking that her most hated enemy is full of a bunch of goody-two-shoes.”

Cassiel looks as if she’s just learned that everything she knows is a lie. “You aren’t that good with political stuff, are you?” Fenrir teases.

She goes to draw her sword but remembers what the guard said. Instead, she crosses her arms over her breastplate and huffs.