William Carver had completed a day without me and was asleep again. According to the monitoring method players could use before logging in, he had made it back to the tiny shack. Logging in shoved my character into darkness of the Ultimate Edition trial room. Hopefully here I could reach one of the Voices, James or Maud preferably.

“Hello?”

There was a pause.

“Grant Legate. You’ve returned. How was your time away?” James, good, starting with him would be best.

“Enlightening.” I think. “I had some questions, if our deal is still in effect.” Asking ‘is our bargain still on?’ would have been a question.

“Of course, Grant Legate.” Soon I would shed the Voices annoying usage of my first and last name.

“Is William Carver related to Mylia?” No use hiding around the biggest question in my list.

“No. Why would you suspect that?”

“William seemed to get around a lot.”

“A man after my own heart. But there were protections in place for that sort of thing, at least during his day.” There was the Temptress, red skinned, scantily clad, more a lingering promise than anything else. I could feel her eyelashes flutter.

“Of course now, even with the corrections from Mother, there’s still too many rug rats being rolled out. Kill ‘em all, let us sort them out!” In whirled the Jester. This time it dancing with a brunette who was clad in shimmering crimson liquid. I tried not to put too much thought into it.

“Lust does that. The ladies say it’s worth the effort.” The Temptress was not one to let a simple Jester detract from her presence.

“Enough, he is my charge.” James' deep voice cut across my brain.

“But he’s entertaining.” Which Voice was that? Not one recognized.

“And deliciously depressing, his mood swings are more fickle then Selena.” That voice was something itchier. Whatever it was felt like mice crawling across my skin.

The aloft Voice on a pedestal, Selena, didn’t make an appearance. Instead she graced us with a clap of thunder and a rush of raindrops pelting into the dark room.

“Someone is going to have a bad day out fishing.” The Jester's words, clacking and ever amused, came in.

James scowled.

“Mister Grant Legate is just trying to complete the tasks assigned.” A tiny set of words came through, which belonged to the younger Voice, a tiny girl who had been sitting in a library corner reading. Even now she hid behind a book as she faded in and out of existence.

“Then he should ask about those instead.” James said.

“I don’t want to cheat.”

“Admirable. A true hero paves his own way!” The giant beefy man who had a sword from my first experience in Continue popped into existence. He seemed to be fighting some scale ridden monster. He huffed and swung, dodged and stepped in again. The enemy wasn’t completely clear.

“Is that guy Carver's Voice?” I asked.

“We all had a hand, but ultimately, Leeroy there, was closest to William Carver.”

“Leeroy?”

“Ask him about his shoulder pads, if you want to be bored to death. His idea of a joke that’s far too old and tired.” The Temptress was on her chair again, this time filing her nails while her tail wagged. Then as soon as she was done talking, out she faded.

“They’re fantastic. Plate chafes like you wouldn’t believe. Cloth armor is the way of the future.” Leeroy, or whatever throwback to shirtless sword wielding caveman he might be, seemed upset as he came into being. He manifested just enough to flip off the Temptress.

“That's confusing.”

“Remember where you are.”

I nodded. James had explained this earlier, here, in this room, I was like the only fish in the sea. So the Voices were all too present. Eventually, perhaps, I might learn all their names and roles. For giggles I tried to use Identification on James but still came up with an excessive amount of question marks.

Using it on the space previously occupied by the Temptress gave a completely different feeling. A wave of lust that set my body to attention and a pass of pleasure that nibbled along the neckline. Teasing sensations lingered and swelled. Unceasingly they kept going while driving mental coherency down a few notches.

A quest popped up, which I needed to regain my senses back before pressing the deny button. That wasn’t the reason I played this game, despite Old Man Carver's tendencies. Contemplating exactly how far spread the Temptress had been was kind of a buzz kill.

Quest: Instant Gratification Difficulty: Extremely Easy (But just for you) Details:

All you need to do is accept. What more details do you need? She promises to be gentle, at least until you beg her not to be.

Denial: This offer never truly goes away.

Acceptance: Instantly Gratifying

I made up my mind. Never again would [Identification] be used on that Temptress. Some things are better left to the imagination and Continue had a very intense feedback. Even the pain from before, when being chased by spiders or acting as Old Man Caver, didn’t compare to her heady rush. Perhaps because feeling good, especially that good, was a better motivator than pain.

“You’re mumbling.” The Jester’s words clacked around me.

“Uh huh.” Plus an undetermined amount of drool was dripping down my face. Being old and single was not healthy in the face of that, that whatever.

“Grant Legate. Did you have any other questions?”

“Uhhh…”

“He’ll need a moment to recover.” Yet another Voice popped in. I clenched both eyes shut and refused to use Identification on this one too. She went on to talk about health levels, elevated fancy words, some chemical, and Chakra points. All gobbledygook.

“It’s…” Words were also hard.

“Yes?”

“Your turn for a question.” I finally said to James. Thinking about baseball was helping. God help me if I logged out of the ARC to find an awkward mess.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Grant Legate?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“Would you like to do it again?”

“Helping new players, a mystery, and one great adventure. What more could anyone ask for?” That actually wasn’t sarcasm, even though it might sound like it to the uninitiated.

“Many things, but your words are well put.” James half turned and almost faded away. Then it seemed like something occurred to the black man.

“Are you sure? Do you enjoy pretending to be someone else, enough to do it again?”

“Honestly?” James nodded to my question. “We’ll see how this one shakes out James. I still haven’t forgiven you for what happened with my dance program.”

“You have twelve days left, make the most of them and I believe we can deliver satisfaction.”

That silly pop up box from the Temptress displayed again. This time it was titled ‘Instant Satisfaction’. I shuddered and pressed decline again. For a video game, it was insanely interactive but that was the attraction. Then I got a favorable increase myself. An Event titled ‘Willpower Demonstration’.

Score one for me! Or, un-score, I guess.

Thankfully Old Man Carver was waking up, so the world about me faded away and was replaced with my daily life as someone else. I read though an event log for my time offline. Apparently Carver had another meeting with the High Priestess of Selena. There was no change in his alignment according to the text. Not that alignment made a lot of sense to me yet. I had briefly read something about it in my guide book from Beth, but that section hadn’t been super interesting.

The [Messenger's Pet] hadn’t shown up for the day I was offline, eight hours out of the game had ended up being twenty four in game. No one took notice. There had been a [Coo-Coo Rill] raid on the front door yesterday that had caused Old Man Carver to fall on those acorn things. As a result I was walking with a limp. This old man hadn’t invested much in the way of self-healing skills or magic. There was a section for bandaging but that only worked on external wounds. My simulated pain was all internal.

I went about my morning, picked up paper along with an enchanted pen that didn’t require ink, and slowly Carver'd a path to my bench. Carvering things was just another clever series of thoughts that had crossed my mind while sitting on this bench.

Now though, I would peruse the map for any hint of a dungeon. WWCD? Would Carver sit on his rear all day? No, Carver would stomp right through all the red tape straight towards adventure. Once it became obvious enough to find.

“There’s got to be something on here.” I muttered unintentionally.

“Whatcha looking at Geezer?”

“None of your business brat.” I turned the map upside down again. I looked up and saw Phil. He was munching a cookie he had probably stolen. Behind him were two of the younger kids. They invaded my bench rather violently, jostling around until the three of them had a solid spot to sit. Phil, the oldest, started trying to entice the [Messenger's Pet] from my hood.

“Can I have one of those?” The middle child seemed able to articulate correctly. The youngest had slurred together most of his words last night.

“Only if you help me figure something out.” Even these annoyingly cute tykes couldn’t escape from Old Man Carver's demands.

“Whatcha figuring out?”

“Huh?”

The youngest giggled.

“Where an old man would have to go to have an adventure.”

“Them Dames on Haggle's Corner ain’t good enough?” Looks like Phil was kind of foul minded. I gave him a halfhearted scowl but kept both eyes on the map in front of me, scanning over all the sections.

“A different sort. I’m looking for one last adventure.”

“An adventure? Like in your stories?”

“Like those, yes.”

“Those adventures are dangerous!” Phil shouted loud enough to draw random stares from those nearby.

“Is Grandpa gonna die?” The youngest, a little girl, slurred her words together. I felt disturbed that a child who might be only three understood the concept of death enough to be worried.

It shook me. Parents had to answer this question, had Carver ever been a father? He certainly had been around enough blocks. He clearly adored the children or he would never have started telling them stories. That was an established pattern of his long before I came alone.

“Eventually.” If she was old enough to ask then Carver wouldn’t lie. Sure enough, there was the percentage increase to prove my actions were right.

“Are you gonna die soon?” That sad tone broke me away from my study and I turned a aching neck sideways to look at the youngest. She had half crawled over the middle child and was giving me an adorable pouting face.

“Only the Voices know for sure.” I patted her head.

After all, those Voices may choose to keep the NPC version of Carver running for however long they desired. My time however, expired soon. I had better not get this body killed or else these annoyingly cute children might become depressed. I knew how that felt.

“Why do you need an adventure geezer?”

“Part of an old man’s last gasp.” Clever Carver! Well, me anyway. Throwing in the quest name there had been irresistible.

“What’s a gasp?” The youngest tried to say.

“A sudden breath of air.” I gasped playfully but kept looking forward. Nowhere on this map could I find any sort of dungeon. There goes my clever idea of heroically leading a cadre of new players down to the depths and defeating some obscure boss. Shame, it had been pretty good all things considered.

“You can’t die Grandpa Carver.” The middle boy said. He was still concerned. “Who’d help out the new Travelers?”

I thought about it for a moment then went with my WWCD instincts.

“These are big shoes to fill. Would you like to try?” I gave him my best adult glare. One that looked at the smaller boy with my face tilted in challenge.

“Sure!”

“How come you asked him?” Phil had completely forgotten about asking me why I needed an adventure.

“Yoo can’t die Grandpa.”

I gave the youngest my best old man dismissive grunt. What other options were there? Shatter her little world and send the tyke home crying?

“Bah. I need a dungeon.” I said after a few awkward seconds of pretending the youngest hadn’t been heard. Hopefully we would move past this entire subject.

“That’s where Travelers go to stop the bad monsters and get rich.”

“There’s Locals that go too.”

“Locals eh?”

“Like us, you, all Travelers types. Come on geezer, your memory going too?” Phil said with a grin. He was busy eyeing other people over the back of my bench. NPCs were called Locals, to Locals. How had I missed that tidbit of information over the last two weeks? Clearly this map and the new players had occupied too much of my time.

Bad hearing coupled with fuzzy vision. Distraction by a dozen random players and personalities, the standard problems. All excuses.

“You kids going to help, or just insult me?”

“What’s an insult?” The little girl asked.

“Ask Mylia.”

“Auntie Mylia knows what an insult is?” She practically drooled the words out. It was enough to make me smile.

“I’m sure she does.”

“Come on Phil, we’ve got to go.” The middle boy was awkwardly pulling away the tiny girl and already partway down the road. Mylia, in the distance, was beckoning to the kids.

“Some help.” I muttered.

“You’re an old geezer, you’d die in a dungeon!” Phil shouted while running after the other orphans. His tone was full of abrupt rudeness only children can pull off and still seem friendly.

“Hey! I killed a dragon!”

Mylia must have heard my shout because she blanched for a moment. I raised a quizzical eyebrow in her direction. The orphanage caretaker carefully schooled her face and then guided the other children away.

Secondary Goal [Progress Event]: Mylia seems upset from your shouts earlier. Information regarding Old Man Carver's past as a [Dragon Slayer] may be key to learning about her. Use this knowledge to figure out what links these two people together.

“Huh.”

Why had shouting about being a [Dragon Slayer] bothered Mylia? The popup box had been pretty clear on the results. In fact this was the first thing to push my progress bar past the seventy five percent marker. Oh. More stuff came up

Reward: Reaching above 75% completion grants additional to William Carver's skills. Over the course of his life he has gained a large number of abilities and secret bits of knowledge.

Unlocked!

William (Old Man) Carver's rank four skills are all displayed and can be actively used.

Unlocked!

William (Old Man) Carver's map now includes details about the area surrounding [Haven Valley]

A map upgrade?

Had screaming across the distance really been worth crossing my previous road block? Better yet, was there a dungeon to crawl into and have some giant adventure? My niece had been right about one thing at least; not having fought anything in a game for almost two weeks now was a little bit odd.

WWCD? Swing a giant blade in the direction of the nearest legendary monster. Find a willing body attached to a set of legs. All the standard sexist stuff. Men like Carver had practically built the male stereotype from a hundred years ago. There was a certain attraction to the smash monsters and get laid mentality though.

I looked at the enlarged map and tried to see if anything stood out. Now it went to a square area maybe ten miles on a side. The items identified seemed fairly standard. More places to learn objects and things. A local bandit scouting base was on the outer edge. There, players who were in trouble with the law could hide or choose to the burn the place down as a lawman.

No dungeons, nothing thrilling or heroic. I could wander into every dark alley in the town and still it wouldn’t be enough. Walking to that bandit outpost would take me days and cost me an unknown amount of progress. Nothing was intense enough to compare to the Dragon slaying. Maybe that’s the problem, I was trying to find something to top William Carver's past experiences.

“You’re Old Man Carver?” A voice asked, signaling the start of my day. Solving the problem myself was getting nowhere so it was time to bend all the manpower available from new players.

“Before I help you, you have to do something for me.”

“Alright. That was quick.”

“Take this to the town square, post it on the notice board and get as many as you can to read it.”

“How do I get there?”

I pointed to the tiny dragon that was busy standing at the base of a tree. He was hissing up towards the Coo-Coo Rills. I’ll bet the [Messenger's Pet] had a quest to aggravate every single squirrel monster thing in the city. So far I would say he was about seventy percent complete.

“Follow the black dragon, Neo.” Yes, the new players name was Neo, and I couldn’t help myself from making a dumb joke. Though it was more likely he named himself after the latest Matrix remake and not the original.

“Cool.” He even sounded like the actor. I rolled my eyes and waved the two onward. The small dragon hissed at me too, caught up in his crusade against other creatures his size.

“If you want more cookies, you better get going!”

“You like cookies?” Neo said. He had a black shirt, black pants, brown hair, white skin, one step away from an actual Neo.

“I’m sure he’ll drag you near the bakery. Feel free to try and wheedle a cookie out of Ladette or Pie Master.” Knowing those two, they’d add it to my tab.

“Lead the way little guy!”

“Hm.” Barely twenty feet away and they were already fuzzy. Even if this latest plan resulted in progress, how would Old Man Carver actually get anywhere? Being half blind, deaf, and arthritic was a hindrance.

“Bah.” And up came the next player already, their arrival heralded by a quiet beam of light. No, there were three of them in rapid succession. Today was going to be busy.

“Bah.”

I lifted the cane and shook it upwards towards Selena’s statue. None of the other Voices had representations near or I would do the same to them. I guess in a way I was lucky. I knew who to blame for my situation. Normal players had to muddle their way through while cursing at unspecific figures.

The flier, which was penned in my terribly sloppy old man words, was for any clues regarding an adventure worthy of Old Man Carver.

Attention Travelers and Locals

I need an adventure. This adventure must be local, within my skills.

I will not promise myself to any Voice.

I will provide a reward equaling the adventure's worth.

Contact me with suggestions. Serious replies only.

William (Old Man) Carver

I had rewritten that stupid notice at least a dozen times. Every attempt impacted my progression bar which was useful and annoying. Wadding them into a paper ball and asking the [Messenger's Pet] to throw them out reset my progress. The final notice being posted was one that didn’t cause me to go down.

That was doubly important to retain my skills increase. Old Man Carver had a wealth of abilities across the board. A [Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] skill looked neat. Others included a [Knowledge: General Weapon Handling] which stacked on top of [Weapon Focus: Two Hander] and [Weapon Focus: Bladed]. The list went on. Like a true player, both kinds, his skills were many and varied.

The new players were sent on their way. Recently I had dealt with a odd group. Three creepily happy face like children on Christmas. Each one had a different goal in mind, but they approached as a trio. They walked with the same pace and overly annoying swagger. Even their names were styled the same.

Siblings? No, their faces were different enough that they were probably something else such as longtime friends. Continue Online enforced a seventy percent body likeness for all new players. They could edit their looks or become other races but there would still be a similarity to the person in real life.

“Ehh.” Children ran by with parents strolling around.

“Ehhh.” Another groan. They didn't seem to be letting up today. In the distance there was a small fuzzy creature watching me intently. [Coo-Coo Rill]s had taken to keeping a scout following me around. Abnormally smart for NPC rodents. Keeping tabs on me would let them track the [Messenger's Pet] and protect their treasures.

“Ehh. Hm.”

Noise kept escaping me uncontrollably. By now I was almost used to it. Hours passed while I groaned and thought about all manner of things. Nothing seemed to be happening fast enough. The few players and NPCs that had showed up didn’t mention my flier. Fine. There were under two weeks left. Maybe something would push me up to a higher percentage this quest could be completed with a great adventure. I just needed to solve this issue with Mylia. One new player was working on that very topic for me.

“Hmm.”

Maybe I could go get in a fight with something. The [Messenger's Pet] had attempted to conquer everything his size across [Haven Valley]. Why not me?

Three useless days passed by. Thoughts jumbled around in my head, possible ways to find adventure or talk to Mylia. Oddly, she hadn’t passed by me once since our vague interaction. Even the orphanage children seemed to shy away. Phil who was doing to and from chores was always huffing through.

Oh. Oh wait. I had an idea. Neat! When one possibility came through there were a whole series that followed closely behind. Many possible angles fitting a cheesy high school plot occurred to me in rapid succession. Why would Old Man Carver care about Mylia? Why would she care about Carver being a [Dragon Slayer]? Why would Carver want one last adventure?

“Ehhh!” A happy groan escaped me. I tried to stand up and do a jig. After a few weeks of stonewalling there was finally a path through.

All these things were related somehow. Beth had been on point. Quests had layers upon layers. Doing this wasn’t as simple as sitting on a bench pretending to be an old man for the four weeks! Setting up a flier would only garner so much attention and I hadn’t had a real bite in the last few days regarding it.

“Aha ha ha.”

My hips hurt like crazy, shoulder ached, but happiness overrode all of that. I kept trying to dance around my cane for entirely too long as the ideas occurred to me one after the other. My stamina bar was dwindling rapidly and warning boxes spun into existence.

“Carver, what are you up to now?”

“Dancing in happiness. It’s what you do when happy.” I grumbled and kept going but my momentum had dwindled in the face of witnesses. Sure enough, the one percent gained from helping new players went away, leaving me back at seventy three.

“Wyl. I need someone to watch my seat. For the rest of the day.”

“Oh? That’s unusual. You have plans?” His constant grin was turned up to the max.

“I’m going to talk to some beautiful ladies.”

“That sounds…”

“I know! I’m too old for the ladies!” Me, in Old Man Carver's body, had already started walking off. “But the ladies aren’t too old for me!” That wonderfully cheesy comment scored me a percentage back. Whew, I needed the bonus for being at seventy five in order to make this work. [Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] would be super useful in sorting through these possibilities that had occurred to me.

First would be the High Priestess of Selena up the outcropping. That walk would take forever. I started trudging my way up the virtual, in both senses, mountain. It took almost an hour of staggering and frequent pit stops before this old body made it up the hill to Selena’s column littered temple.

Recently I discovered William Carver had a number of titles. [Dragon Slayer], [Guide], ones for other monsters killed, bounty hunting, or top tier skills. There was one out of place title marked as ‘new’ with bright fancy letters. This one said [Messenger] but it had no information. I had a feeling it was tied to William Carver’s warning of the Travelers impending arrival.

Being able to separate my own information from William Carver's seemed impossible at this point. Hopefully these things would become more obvious soon. Considering the detrimental traits with Carver’s body it was a wonder he accomplished anything. These problems to offset his abilities. Otherwise Carver could run out of town, slay all the monsters in the area, and made it back before dinner. That was the difference between his gathered abilities and statistics versus other new players.

Skills on the other hand, once I unlocked this latest bonus, were the key. I couldn’t lose a rank if I wanted this plan to succeed. Telling off Selena’s statue was not to be considered. Glaring at her fuzzy marble form in the distance didn’t lose me any points in progress.

“Ehhh.”

“William. This is unusual of you.” The plump High Priestess sounded sweet with a note of caution.

“Yes. Yes I’m sure it is. We should sit.” I lifted the cane and pointed towards the same ledge view we had shared a week ago.

I couldn’t make out her face form this angle. Carver's vision was a bit more blurry than normal right now. Most of my hour journey had been spent trying to find the landmarks and checking my map.

“If you desire so William, we can sit.”

“Good. Good.” Slowly nodding I debated with of my two options would be best used. Method one included the blunt telling of who I was and what I was doing here. Method two involved vague questions to avoid losing my progress points.

My little friend the [Messenger's Pet] poked his head out my hood and looked around. Moments later, while my old silent self was debating what to choose, the tiny dragon leapt off the cliff and soared away.

High Priestess Peach, her name according to the [Identification] window, sighed. For once it didn’t seem sweet or pleasant. It seemed sad, extremely sad. That was an opener and made me toss out the roundabout questioning process out the window. Besides, WWCD implied that being vague and coy was the wrong route to go.

“You were the first to ask me about him.” I shook the cane in the distance towards where the tiny dragon had leapt off. “Why?”

“Because if that” Priestess Peach managed to sound twisted with sadness “is a Messenger Pet, it means you’ll be dead soon.”

Old Man Carver's [Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] didn’t show any falsehoods. Plus she answered without any sort of hesitation. So much for being suspicious. I nodded slowly, once again asking myself, WWCD?

“And if it were true?” He would ask questions. Old Man Carver didn't provide others information until he got something out of them.

“Then it’d be a sad day for all of us.”

“Ehh.” The groan escaped me.

“Hips again?” She asked.

“And everything else.” I admitted. “Rest easy Peach, I’ve no intention of dying.”

“Only the Voices can know William. If they sent the [Messenger's Pet] to you, then your time is set. Soon you’ll be gone.” Still the

“Then I’ll go out the same way I lived.”

“Oh?”

“An adventurer. I’ll do my best to go out like an adventurer.” Carver had never considered himself a hero. Not once did he use that word in his journals. His actions certainly fit the ideal version of one though. Slaying monsters for the greater good of all common folks was a tried and true method for becoming great.

“Is that why there’s a flier in town?”

Standing up was difficult with this old frame. Priestess Peach had her answer so I took the Carver way out of things and didn’t give any additional information. The advertisement had my name signed across its bottom.

“William?”

I gestured a goodbye with the cane and slowly made my way out of the temple. My conversation hadn’t awarded me any solid progress points. Giving Selena’s statue a parting innuendo wasn’t worth the loss. Soon I was too far away to hear her questioning tone.

Onward, towards my next target! Maybe I would get there before sundown. I ambled past Peg’s training hall. She was busy yelling at the latest person to try her brand of torture. Further on my route was the Bakery. Pie Master and Ladette were both there and waved. A third person was busy sweeping up the shops. My first Traveler, the girl who wanted to learn cooking, was still in town. She smiled, I grunted with a cane lifting salute and got my batch of cookies.

I ordered an extra dozen as part of my peace offering. Chances were they would come in handy after my conversation with Mylia. If not, then perhaps Phil would take my money making bribe. As an old man I stumbled across one fantastic idea that a newbie town should have put in a long time ago.

While resting I studied the map. During one stop a player came up and asked me for guidance. I glared and gave him a mindless task, this time to earn Peg’s approval. The player didn’t know but Peg would be able to give him a quest related to his goals if he did well.

Almost two hours had passed by the time I got to Mylia’s orphanage. The sun wasn’t down so no points were lost. Hopefully this behavior wasn’t too far out of the norm for Carver. Teetering on the edge of this percentage bonus was mildly nerve wracking.

“Geezer! What are you doing here?” Phil shouted at me far before I made it to the door.

“Bringing a peace offering. Help out or get nothing.”

“More cookies?” Phil was extra hushed as he drew closer. Like we were discussing a conspiracy. “What do I need to do for some extras?”

“Help me smooth things over with Mylia.” I leaned in and pretended to conspire with the youth. Phil put out a hand and gestured towards the bag.

“Cookie first.” Smart boy, he wasn’t giving anything away for free either.

“We have a deal then?” And Carver wouldn’t just hand someone over anything first. Not without some sort of exchange.

“Sure thing Geezer, you know us Orphans don’t renege on our deals.” He was practically glowing in anticipation. “Deal's a deal's a deal.”

[Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] didn’t trigger. I forked over a cookie slowly. Luckily the [Messenger's Pet] hadn’t come back or I would be short a few cookies already.

“So?”

“Hah! You don’t smooth things over with her, once you’re on her list, you’re on it forever!”

“Am I?” Here was my next outright test of Carver’s abilities. I gave Phil the best level stare this body could muster while hoping those were his eyes and not smudged cheeks. Blurry vision was a curse.

“On her list?”

“Yes, yes. Come on boy, you know darn well what I’m asking.”

“Sure do. And no, I don’t think you’re on her list, yet. Maybe. She’s been upset though. Easier to make mad. The littles have been running scared when she comes in.”

I frowned. That wasn’t a good sign. Phil watched everything like a hawk. His [Identification] results lead me to believe that he knew what was going on between me and Mylia. The boy had a few traits of his own that all pointed towards a grifter watching for his mark.

“What’s going on out there Phil? Whose here?” Mylia was practically shouting from inside the house. If she hadn’t been so loud, I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand her.

“Got to go! Bye Geezer!” Phil snatched another cookie and ran off.

“Ehhh.” The door slammed open in a rush as Mylia tried to catch us conspiring.

“Mister Carver. What are you doing skulking about out there?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Maybe you finally lost your mind.” Judging by her tone I was certainly not in a good place with Mylia.

“Oh no worries, Mylia. I lost it a long time ago.” Mylia looked down at the bag I was still holding awkwardly with one hand. The cane was barely offsetting it’s weight.

“More treats? Those may work on the kids, but not on me Mister Carver.”

“Miss Jacobs, if I knew what worked on you, I would have tried it a long time ago.” Which would have solved this whole side quest from the get go.

She actually smiled a little even though my progress bar showed a negative response. It must have been part of a percent because I managed to stay above seventy five. Some of my progress points went like that, with just a flash of red and green arrows but overall unchanged numbers.

“You can keep right on trying Mister Carver. Maybe one day you’ll crack it.”

“I don’t have long left to figure it out Mylia Jacobs.” Combining Priestess Peach’s information with Mylia’s earlier concern painted an obvious picture. A [Messenger's Pet] somehow heralded death.

She stood in the doorway looking flustered. Up close it was easy to see how thin she looked. More so than she had in the days prior, Mylia seemed to be wasting away. Was she sick with something?

“So it’s true then?” She asked.

“About the [Messenger's Pet]?” Standing here holding a bag of cookies was getting harder. My stamina bar was dropping slowly.

“Yes.”

“I honestly don’t know the answer.”

“So you’re not going to die?”

“Mylia Jacobs, we all die eventually.”

“That’s morbid for an old man. Do you think you can just die and leave all your past deeds unpunished?”

Clearly the whole Dragon Slayer thing had been key in her attitude change. Stories about Carver's past should have been shared around town before. I sighed and moved on with the next phase, poorly trying to tie in our past moments to progress this quest forward.

“Do you remember the poem you read Mylia?”

“I do.”

“Then the answer is clear, if I do pass, I will not regret my choices.”

“What choices could possibly bother a seasoned man like yourself?” I tried to stomp my foot in emphasis but didn't manage to move that fast. The slight lean reminded me instead of Carver's hip problems.

“Mylia, what bothers me is unimportant, but I killed a dragon and that disturbs you.” This wasn’t me taking a stab in the dark at why her attitude had changed. She was clearly upset because the quest text had said so. Too bad Carver’s [Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] didn’t extend to body language.

As Beth pointed out, quests may have layers. Side quests may tie together in weird ways to the situation at hand. She had suggested thinking about what the NPCs had, what the players had, and think outside the box.

Old Man Carver was not the sort to give away information unless there was an exchange. He kept his cards close to his chest. He grumbled about everything. Like these cookies that were now too heavy to hold. I set them down.

“Why would you say that Mister Carver?”

“Because I’ve been around the block quite a few times Mylia. I may be blind, nearly deaf, have an ache in my joints when it’s too hot or cold, and my shoulders kill me every morning, but I’m not stupid. Just old.” Progression points up!

“So? Why does any of that mean you care Mister Carver? You come around and tell your stories, and the kids like it, but why?” Mylia asked.

Another person was testing my WWCD instincts. But, and this was the important part, she was reacting to these statements. Mylia was giving me more information and talking more than the entire last two weeks. Pushing her now would be useful in solving the quest. Tossing my Carverisms out the window right now would be risky to my progress marker. I had come up with a roundabout plan to get more information.

“I came to see the kids anyway, about a story.”

“Fine. For the children.”

“For the Children.” I chuckled. “The battle cry of warring couples everywhere.” Mylia got a pat on the shoulder as I walked past her into the orphanage. “Warn me before you start throwing dishes.” Progress points dropped from my offhanded snark.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Mylia at least played along rather well. My chuckling continued. She was a fun lady. If it wasn’t for this whole quest series while pretending to be William Carver, I would have a better time.

“Uncle Carver!”

“Mistrr Caaver.” The youngest little girl seemed pleased.

“Hi little Miss. I brought treats again.”

“Yay!” The children descended on the container like a pack of savages. Considering their almost constantly thin look they were probably always hungry.

“Eat them all before my little friend shows up.”

“The tiny baby dragon whelp thing guy?” One of the little children asked. They had been relegated to the back of the cookie line.

“That’s the one.” I nodded. “He’s a bit of a pig so you’d best hide all the crumbs.”

“Okey Caaver.”

“Good. I spent time trying to find out the best story ever to tell you all, I’ve been having a hard time. Maybe instead, you all can help me.”

“Uncle Carver, I want to pet the little dragon.”

“If he lets you.” I nodded happily while finding a place to sit. Just like the last time children were busy shuffling around chairs and jostling for space.

“What was your story this time Uncle?”

“Yeah Geezer.” Phil had found his way in among the others. “Whatcha got for us?”

“No story today. Just cookies, and a change of pace.”

“Oh?”

“Huh?” The tones around the room were fairly similar. Even Mylia sounded a bit thrown off.

“What do you mean?” Phil said.

“For years I’ve been coming here, sitting with you, sharing story after story.”

“Uh huh.” The little girl said.

“So, I think you all owe me a story.”

“What?” Other confused statements went around the room in a sudden jerk. I smiled. This was certainly against Carver's standard actions. Judging by the hovering progress bar I hadn’t actually done anything wrong yet. After all, William Carver lived his recent years out by giving people quests.

“How many tales have I told you kids?”

“A lot.” One of the oldest said. Judging by their size it wouldn’t be long before they were forced to move on from the orphanage.

“Then I deserve one in return I think.”

“Sounds fair.” One of the oldest said. They leaned against the wall watching a sea of small children munch away at baked goods. He seemed a hard working sort with a deep tan. My vision was too fuzzy, but I would bet his hands were calloused and dirty from field work.

“I don’t want to.” One of the younger children said.

“Well I want to.” Another child said. They argued back and forth for a while, each one having a different view. I stomped the cane to get everyone's attention. Amazingly, it worked very well.

“There’s only one rule.”

“What now Geezer?”

“It can’t be a story I’ve told you.” Both hands were back on top of the cane keeping me from tipping forward.

“But I like your stories Uncle.”

“That’s good,” I tried to give this entire conversation my best grumpy old man tone. Hopefully it came across as a kind of abrasive cadence with a hint of affection. “But tell me something new.”

“How would we find a new story?”

“That’s up to you all, but if you do, I’ll promise a reward. Something to help you make money.”

“Yeah, what’s that ya Geezer?” Phil had snagged a second cookie and was even now savoring it with a blissful look on his eyes.

“You’ll see.” I had other contacts to visit tomorrow. Other places to go and things to do, like setting up dominoes in preparation. When they finally fell, Old Man Carver’s contribution would be etched into the city even more.

After much harassment from the younger children, I provided another story. This time it was an obscure tale I had dug up about a child exploring the land of dreams. Just a little bit of fright, a little bit of excitement, and unexpected heroism in the face of fear. The younger ones asked a lot of questions and expected details well outside my limited preparation. Much was made up on the spot but they seemed pleased. I got a popup box regarding the entire night's affairs and slowly read through it as I Carver'd my way home. No bonuses, no quests, just a notice that the children had enjoyed it.

Strange. After only three weeks I had started thinking of the little cottage as a second home. Another man’s shoes, clothes, book collection and trophies. It felt comfortable in its foreignness. I went through the full motions of getting this tired old body into a bath heated by some sort of magical rock. The dirty water drained down into a piece of plumbing likely set up by one of the town residents years ago. I even slowly curled up under heavy down covers and felt the drowsiness as Carver's eyelids slowly slipped shut.

Then blackness overtook both me and the person I was pretending to be. Hours later I woke up to an intense chest pain. Breath froze as sharp shots of crippling discomfort spiraled through my arm and down one leg.

“Ehhh.” Both eyes were fluttering uncontrollably as my ARC sent notices of damage across my body. I couldn’t even reach the log out button to try and avoid it.

“Ehhhhhh.”

Just when the first wave started to fade, leaving me hopeful that it was over, a second surge swung up past my senses. My defenses were down. Boxes were coming into existence saying words that were impossible to focus on. Likely they were happy notices that I was suffering a heart attack.

Then they were gone, and I was left gasping and panting.

A box showed up, displaying that Old Man Carver's constitution had once again saved the day. He was a former hero. The game stats reflected his abilities with regards to toughing out one of the worst pains I had ever experienced.

I logged out of the ARC's simulated pain then fell back asleep in exhaustion almost as soon reality returned. This game might well be the death of me yet.