when he wasn’t quite sure how the people there thought of demonic magic. “My apologies. Do go on.”
She continued to speak while her character repeatedly picked up the same mug, wiped it dry with her towel, and put it down again. When she had run out of rapturous words about her fiancé—with the appropriate responses of “Mmm,” and “Oh, really?” from Justin—she smiled at him.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?”
“I don’t suppose you have pizza,” he joked.
“I don’t think so, sir.” Well, there was the limit of the AI.
IMPOSSIBLE REQUESTS, LEVEL 1
“Oh, come on,” he muttered and shrugged. “How about some stew?”
“Of course, sir.” The meal appeared on the counter in front of him. “That’ll be a copper, sir.”
“You still won’t tell me what it costs to see that beautiful smile of yours?”
A man appeared in the doorway to the kitchens. He was broad-shouldered and with a ruddy complexion. His shirt sleeves were rolled to show massive forearms with a tattoo of several interlocking circles on one, and he wore a stained apron made of canvas. He strode toward Justin.
“’Ey.” His tone wasn’t friendly. “My daughter asked ye for payment.”
Normally, he would simply pay and be done with it. Well, normally, he wouldn’t be in this situation at all. But it was funny how being in a game world made you want to try things you wouldn’t ordinarily try.
“Now, now,” he argued. “There are so many kinds of payment. I’m a new adventurer in town and you don’t even want to tell me how I might help all of you?”
“She did,” the bartender said. “The coin, adventurer.”
“You know, I don’t think so.” He wanted to see what would happen. “That stew tasted a little pixel-y to me.”
Behind him, he realized the bar had gone very quiet. When Justin turned with the mug still in his hand, he saw most of the men there were standing now. Many seemed to wear a band of blue cloth on one arm.
“Are you all in a club?” he joked.
“We’re the town guard,” one of them said. He smiled. “Let’s chat, shall we?”
He was still trying to work out how to set the mug down and draw his sword again when the screen went black. Sounds of punches and kicks ensued and a flurry of red numbers floated on the screen. When the numbers stopped, his health bar flashed red and indicated that he had one point left.
The sounds of the blows made him wince and he could almost feel the pain each time a blow landed, but he was also laughing. This was amazing. You could smooth-talk bartenders there. Or you could flirt and walk out on your bill. The game gave you the option to step out of line.
Justin waited for the screen to clear and when it did, he wasn’t disappointed. Stone walls and chains on his feet announced that he was in the town jail.
Chapter Thirteen
“Hey,” a voice announced. “Look who’s finally awake.”
Justin sat and was rewarded by flashes of actual pain. He paused warily for a moment. That pain couldn’t be real, could it? Of course it couldn’t. It wasn’t real. He’d probably merely sat for too long while he played the game.
His character looked sideways and noticed a dwarf watching him. He hadn’t realized this game had multiple races, given that he hadn’t been allowed to choose one on the character creation screen. That didn’t seem very fair. He would put that in his review.
“Hi,” he said.
“You were out for the better part of an hour,” the dwarf informed him. “They dragged ye in looking like death warmed over. Course, even without those bruises, looks like ye’d be about as attractive as a bison’s hairy arse.” He laughed at his wit.
“Do you say things like that to everyone who comes in here?” The joke made him smile. Of course an NPC would say that to any character.
“Everyone who’s as ugly as you,” the dwarf said cheerfully, almost as if he were giving a compliment. “I’m Lyle Stout. And you are?”
“Justin,” he said.
“Player underscore 009, huh?”
Oh, come on, that was uncalled for.
Did the AI make a rude noise or did he simply imagine it?
He examined Lyle. The dwarf’s beard and hair were a ginger-red and decorated with small braids and metal beads. He wore carefully assembled leather armor with a giant tree embossed on the chest plate. When he saw Justin’s scrutiny, Lyle jabbed a thumb at himself. “I’m one o’ the king’s finest—hic—operatives, I’ll have ye know.”