10:46pm, January 16

Roaring wind and heavy snow beat against the window beside me.

Sounds of pots and pans moving rang out in the kitchen behind me as Elin prepared a meal for us, the front desk empty save for a small underused bell. I was the only one in the dining room, every other table having been empty since the storm started.

Despite the roaring fire in the hearth, a chill filled the air in the inn, and I tightened the blanket around me in an attempt to dispel it. Laying on the table in front of me was my journal, though the chill dissuaded me from continuing. Sighing as I closed it and put it back in my inventory, I turned to stare into the white land outside the inn window.

Nobody was outside, but I could barely make out orange and yellow lights through the snow and ice. Adventurers locked themselves in rooms while industries and npcs continued their work inside their homes. Each house had stockpiles for exactly these scenarios, and I knew as soon as the storm lifted merchants and clerks would run out to continue as if it hadn’t passed at all.

Though that was if the storm did lift.

We had been locked inside for the last four days, with only sporadic and short delays between weather fronts. The current burst had lasted since daybreak, converting what would normally be a bright day into an eternal night. What was worse was that Elin had told me that npcs recounted tales of weeks long storms blowing across the plateau.

I knew such an event was unlikely of course, but just the thought of the storm going on for that long filled me with worry for the players in Paelgard. It was custom in the city for innkeepers to not charge rent during the storms- it was considered an exceptionally greedy thing to do apparently. But the longer the storms went on the more expensive food and rent would be after, and I knew firsthand how low most players kept their savings.There would be tough times in the city if this kept up much longer.

Not that times were particularly easy for us before this. I thought with a frown. We were still no closer to clearing the mountain pass down into the surrounding lands, and connecting with the other player communities. Despite dozens of probes and high level players nobody had been able to breach even the first part of the world dungeon, and so we had all been effectively quarantined in the plateau since the game started. The plateau was large enough for leveling and survival of course, but for the players who tired of the cold weather and attitudes of the npcs here it was nowhere near large enough. Some people were even starting to believe that the world outside the plateau didn’t even actually exist, and that Paelgard was the entire game.

That wasn’t our only issue either. Paelgard had suffered greatly after the rumors of permadeath had spread through the town on the tail end of the second week. Before that, a huge chunk of the playerbase believed in an idea called ‘deathlogging’, or that players who died in the game were just ejected from the game back into the real world. Due to that widespread believe, thousands of people had either committed suicide or taken on extreme risk thinking that they would just get to be logged out if they fell. That all changed when the GM appeared one more time before leaving once again.

“Beware of death!” He had said according to rumors. “The penalty is many times what it was! Don’t waste your life.” Then he had left amid angry crowds, flying north towards the pass.

The hopelessness and despair had been palpable since that day.

I shuddered even now to remember the city when the wound was fresh. Parties who had lost people waiting in town for them to respawn where heartbroken, siblings of dead adventurers had wailed in the streets, and those who had preached deathlogging were shunned. The number of intentional suicides did decrease, but only several days after the incident when the fear of death began to outweigh the depressive sadness throughout the city. Even just before the storm hit I came upon players weeping in the markets or screaming in stress-induced anger by the gate.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn’t for Gabrial. I thought angrily. His party had spent the entire second week encouraging the deathlogging idea, even going so far as to organize events for people to die together. His party had been shunned since the incident of course, but they had already sent literally thousands of players to their deaths, and they hadn’t even had to courtesy follow their own ideas. Dark clouds filled my head as I thought about him. He killed Bow. And he will pay for that.

I had sworn to myself on that day that I would kill Gabrial for what he had done. I hadn’t told anyone of course -Elin would slap me silly if she heard me admit it- but my resolve hasn’t wavered to do so. The only thing stopping me was the logistics of it, as I had no only to help me fight them. I’ll only have to get strong enough to take them all on by myself. I reaffirmed to myself.

I snapped out of my thoughts as the bell rang and the door opened, bringing with it a pile of snow and the scream of roaring wind. A snow covered stranger strode into the bakery, a boy only a little over five feet tall. He looked to only be twelve or thirteen, though it only became obvious when he lowered his black woolen hood and I saw his face. His reddish bangs covered his forehead and went over his eyes, and a sword crossed his back. A little startled, I realized that his eyes were red with tears, and his face was blue with chill. He looked around quickly as he walked in, his eyes running over me before returning to the front desk and ringing the bell. I returned to watching outside, trying to form an appearance of not caring.

I heard Elin burst out of the kitchen and exchange a few quiet words with the boy before taking him up the stairs behind the counter to the inn rooms above. Then, after several long minutes she came back down to sit across from me, a troubled look taking over her sharp features.

“A new arrival from the plateau?” I asked. The boy was clearly a player with his equipment and garb, which made the visit all the more unusual. There were dozens of waystations out on the plateau for situations such as these, all stocked with plenty of food and warm fires, so if someone had taken the time to travel back to Paelgard in the last four days something was definitely wrong.

“Just got back from Shardin Glade.” Elin said. “Left his party behind.”

“Oh.” I looked away with newfound sympathy. Shardin Glade was known as a moderately hard mini-dungeon for low levels, which everyone would still be. It wasn’t the place for a party to cut their teeth on dungeoneering.

“The thing is, he didn’t see them die.” Elin leaned forward. “They just got into a trap the guy couldn’t get them out of. So they sent him back.”

I leaned back, surprised. Now this is an interesting case.

“He came back to recruit a party to get them out before they starved, but with the storms…”

I nodded in understanding. Almost no one would be suicidal enough to take on a quest so time sensitive in conditions such as these. The penalty of failure being the death of multiple people would’ve been enough to turn most people off, but when you would have to travel several days through ice and snow to even get there? It would surprise me more if he had actually found volunteers.

“No one jumped right?”

She nodded back. “This is the tenth tavern he’s visited.”

Elin fixed her gaze outside at the swirling snow. I almost didn’t catch her whisper over the roaring wind.

“I think I’m gonna volunteer.”

Taking a second to process that, I instantly jumped up and grabbed her hand.

“You can’t! You see that storm right? We have no idea when it’ll end!”

“I have to try. If I don’t go…” She shook her head. “If WE don’t go then they’re guaranteed to die!”

“Woah woah woah… When did I get roped into this?”

“Come on Pao, you know my combat abilities aren’t that great. But yours are amazing! You’ll definitely need to go if we want to save them.”

“I’m not about to get guilt-tripped into suicide.”

“The cold is survivable with winter gear, and the dungeon can’t be that hard with your level right? Your One-Handed is already over level sixteen!”

I glanced outside as another quarter sized chunk of ice bounced off the glass.

“You know, I don’t normally want to do things that people recommend as ‘survivable’.”

“I’ve heard a fire rune on your coat will melt the smaller ones before they even hit you!”

“Can you even afford a fire rune?”

“You surely can’t condemn them to death without even attempting a rescue, can you?”

I sighed. So much for not getting guilt-tripped. I took another glance outside the window, consigning myself to my fate. As much as I was protesting I knew in my heart that I was going to do whatever I could for the boy ever since I saw those tears in his eyes. It was going to be a difficult task however, and I definitely didn’t want to endanger more people than necessary. This is going to be a long negotiation.

“Alright alright…” I said. “Only on one condition though.”

“Only if I can afford it.”

“You stay here.”