Bitter Ch. 506-510 (Patreon)

The trees formed a canopy over the road. It was cool and pretty, the dappled light creating a mosaic of yellow and green patches. Britta was wary of bandits or wild beasts jumping out from behind the trees, but there were no more encounters.

She was feeling a bit guilty for being so mean to the wood sprite. No matter how she rationalised it, the fact was she’d bullied the sprite into not singing anymore. It was easy enough standing up for yourself when it was one on one — what did you care if the other person had different tastes to yours? — but when people ganged up on you, it became very hard to not capitulate. We all think you suck is a hard argument to counter.

When she emerged on the other side of the forest, wide open fields lay in front of her, sloping down into a valley where a city sat waiting on an island in the middle of a large body of water. A bridge stretched out on each side, four giant structures supported by cables, girders and beams that looked far too advanced for a medieval society. But, as always, they had magic to fall back on. It was an impressive sight, whatever the inconsistencies.

The city itself was exactly what you would expect to find in a fantasy world. Towers spire, domes and battlements, with a riot of coloured flags and banners flying from every rooftop. You had to hand it to the devs, they knew what a city of wizards and knights was supposed to look like.

Donald didn’t seem very impressed and was more interested in the weeds growing by the side of the road. They kept going, a sense of accomplishment already lifting Britta’s mood. She had set herself a goal and now she was about to reach it.

As they got closer, the road started to fill up with traffic. Various NPCs — merchants, farmers, traders — were also on their way to the city. The noise of cartwheels and horses got louder, and clouds of dust made it harder to see or breathe. Britta tucked her nose and mouth into the top of her shirt. Donald seemed oblivious.

There were soldiers standing outside a low building just before the bridge, but the wagons and caravans rolled across the bridge without stopping. This appeared to be a free and open place, welcoming all comers. Or so it first appeared.

It was only when Britta was almost at the bridge that she saw the encampment to the side of the road. Judging by the swathe of name tags floating over people’s heads, these were all players.

Britta dismounted and decided to walk the rest of the way. She didn’t want to get involved with whatever the other players were up to, but she was curious why they were out here. Donald gave her a look that suggested he didn’t care what she did and then wandered off.

Britta walked alongside a heavily laden cart, trying to act casual. The camp must have held at least thirty or forty players. They had all had the same idea as her, to come to the big city and see what it had to offer, so why were they out here? Were the prices so exorbitant they couldn’t afford a place to stay in the city? Was there a bridge toll? She wasn’t exactly swimming in money herself.

“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you,” said a young man with a comically terrible pageboy haircut. “They won’t let you across.” The tag hovering over him said his name was Lavazza, like the coffee. He was dressed in beginner clothing, with a sword hanging from his belt. Fighter? Thief? It was hard to tell.

Britta had to shout to be heard over the rolling vehicles constantly moving behind her. “Who won’t?”

“The soldiers. Not unless you’re part of the Empire.”

“Do they charge a fee to enter the city?”

“Nope. They’ve got a list of requirements you have to meet. You have to be over Level 3, for a start.”

That didn’t seem so bad. She was Level 5, but she could see why it would be a problem for most other players. Level 2 was considered good going for most people. There were bound to be some Level 3s by this time, though.

She looked being Lavazza. The other players were sitting around fires, none of them looking very happy, like they were on some miserable camping holiday.

“Couldn’t you go level up?” She meant it as a casual inquiry, after all, that’s what you were supposed to do in a game like this, not just sit there. What were they waiting for? “Sitting around won’t change anything.”

“It’s not quite that easy,” said Lavazza huffily, taking offence from Britta’s attitude. To be fair, she had made it sound like the players here were lazy and stupid. “It’s not just the level thing. You also have to have a reason to enter the city. A quest or an official task. The only other way in is to join their army. Sod that. I didn’t shell out a bucketful of money for this game just to join the military and get ordered about. I’ll decide how I play this game. Nobody’s telling me what to do. I’d rather unplug and uninstall.”

He sounded very passionate in his determination not to be a low-level grunt. Defiantly shouting his intentions in the middle of the dust and noise, but still stuck out in the middle of a field with nothing to do. Not the funnest way to play. Britta wasn’t sure if his rejection of the military life was due to lofty principles or a desire to avoid strenuous labour, but she would also refuse to join if she was in his place.

The game seemed very keen to recruit players into the Empire’s forces. Maybe the AI felt it was the best way for players to understand this world and to train them in combat; that would make sense for all the players not familiar with this kind of world, but judging by Owen and MrKappa’s experiences, it was mostly guard duty and patrols.

There was a kind of logic to ignoring the starter towns and rush to the big city. Even if you died a number of times on the way, you couldn’t go below Level 1, so it was the best time to throw caution to the wind. That was if you found a warm welcome and plenty of opportunities for quests and experience points at the end of your journey.

If you were going to go the independent route, what you needed was an alternative plan. One that kept you moving. Sitting outside the city wasn’t going to get you anywhere.

Britta looked behind her. The carts and pack animals had disappeared.

“Rush hour’s over,” said Lavazza in response to Britta’s confusion. “There’ll be another one in the morning.”

Britta nodded. Just like at home. The soldiers were still standing by the bridge, looking as bored as the players. Now seemed an excellent time to try her luck.

“What’s the city called?” She hadn’t actually got round to finding out.

Lavazza shook his head at her noob question. “Shona. Shona-by-the-Sea, to give it the full title.”

It looked more like a lake than a sea, but Britta wasn’t an expert. Maybe there were inland seas. She would ask her geography tutor about it.

“Okay, thanks.” Britta turned and started walking towards the bridge.

“I told you, they won’t let you in,” Lavazza shouted after her.

“Got it,” she shouted back. “Just want to see what they say.”

“Don’t sign anything.”

She gave him a thumbs up as thanks for the warning.

The soldiers’ hut was long and thin, with big empty windows revealing the dark interior. There didn’t seem to be much inside, she could just about make out table and chairs.

They were dressed like the soldiers she’d encountered earlier. Their armour looked scuffed and worn, their apathetic faces not changing as Britta walked towards them.

“Hello, I’d like to go into the city, please.” She tried to sound clear and confident. She’d been practising in her head as she approached.

“Class and level,” said one of the soldiers like he couldn’t care less.

Britta noticed Lavazza had come along with her, hanging back but close enough to observe her application being rejected.

“Um, I’d rather keep that private.”

The soldier gave her an irritated look. “Do you have a guild card?”

“Oh, yes. Here.” She gave him her card for the Adventurers’ Guild.

He took it, read it, then handed it back. “Fine. What business do you have in the city?”

“I have a letter to deliver to Mendel Jenkins. He’s the dean of the Institute for Magic Studies.”

“I know who he is,” said the guard, even more irritated. “Let me see the letter.” Some of the other guards came over, curious to see a player with papers to show them.

Britta went through her bag until she found the letter the gnome wizard had given her. She was hesitant about giving it to the soldier, but what was he going to do? Run off and deliver it for her?

The soldier inspected the envelope. It wasn’t stuck down, but he didn’t bother to open it. He handed it back.

“Okay.”

“I can go across the bridge?” she asked him, just to be sure. He nodded. That was easy, thought Britta. She turned to enter the city.

“Wait!” shouted Lavazza, running up. “I’m with her. We’re in the same party.”

She looked at him, not sure what to say.

“Is he in your party?” asked the soldier.

Lavazza’s eager face nodded at her, like that would convince her to say yes.

The soldier waited for a response.

“I can take anyone I want in with me, can I?” Britta asked him.

“If they’re in your party,” said the soldier. “You’ll be responsible for them, and for their actions.”

Britta didn’t like the sound of that. If she vouched for someone and they turned out to be an idiot — and chances were always high for that to be the case — then she would be held accountable. Britta had no idea what that entailed, but consequences were rarely a positive thing to have to face.

“Send me a party invite,” said Lavazza under his breath. “I will totally owe you one.”

On the other hand, if she refused, she would be making an enemy. It would be an unfair and unjustified reaction, but a more than likely one. This player would act like she had betrayed him and do everything he could to make her life a misery, assuming he got the chance. Would he get the chance? It was hard to say. Even if he wasn’t able to, the possibility was enough to unsettle Britta’s stomach. She really should have ignored the camp and snuck into the city unseen by any other players.

Speaking of which, Britta’s successful dealings with the soldiers had continued attracted the attention of more players. They had noticed she hadn’t been rejected out of hand like they had, and were now wandering over to take a closer look.

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on grouping up with any—”

“Just one minute,” Lavazza said to the soldiers. “I need to confer with my party leader.” He pulled Britta to the side. “Look, this won’t cost you anything and you’ll be doing me a real favour. I don’t want to get dragged into this empire versus rebel nonsense, I just want to do my own thing, same as you. Let me go in with you, I’ll leave as soon as we’re inside. You’ll never hear from me again.”

It sounded reasonable, but then unreasonable people always did. “You heard what he said. I’m responsible for whoever I take in. I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

“I won’t do anything.” His voice had gone all high-pitched. “What do you take me for? I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’m a player, just like you. We should help each other when we can, right? Co-op, not PvP. I’d do the same for you.”

Britta was familiar with this approach to ‘friendship.’ Everything went one way with promises of favours being returned at some undisclosed point in the future.

Thinking about it in purely practical terms, there was definitely a risk of things going wrong, and not much of an upside. The basic question of What’s in it for me? was answered with a resounding Nothing!

The other players had gathered around them now and were discussing what was going on. There were a lot of requests for a summary of events so far. Apparently, the gnome was over Level 3 and had a quest that allowed her to enter the city. And she could take whoever she liked with her.

A debate raged about what class Britta was, based on her clothing. Rogue was the popular call. And they were also curious about her quest A letter, someone said. A delivery, the easiest of all quests. There were groans of regret as people cursed their poor luck. Why couldn’t they have stumbled onto this quest instead of her?

The gossiping grew intense, and Britta didn’t want to end up at the centre of it. The idea of having dependents relying on her for safe passage was not an appealing one. Not only would anyone she chose be a potential liability, but everyone she didn’t choose would be a potential enemy. It was a lose-lose situation.

“Can I come?” said a girl. “I won’t cause you any trouble.”

“And me,” said a wiry man with long black hair. “I was here first.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Lavazza. “Everyone chill. This is B’s party, she gets to decide. It’s up to her, right? A full party is ten people, remember. Now, everyone line up so we can choose who to take with us.”

This was quickly getting out of hand.

“No,” said Britta. The excited chitter-chatter came to an abrupt halt. “Don’t line up. I haven’t got time for this, so let’s make it simple. According to my screen, I can make a party of ten people. That means I can only take nine of you. If you want to be one of the nine, it will cost you two silver coins each.”

This seemed like a decent compromise. If the local tolls cost two silver, then she was asking for the standard amount. Entirely reasonable.

It was probably more than most players had, especially those who had ignored all quests and levelling to get here as quickly as possible. And if they had managed to get that much money together, they were probably smart enough not to cause her any trouble in the future.

“You mean eight people,” said Lavazza, hopefully.

“No, you have to pay just like anyone else, it’s only fair. I’m not a charity. I’m not interested in people owing me favours or being grateful. That won’t help. You can always go level up or find quests in the forest.” She pointed back the way she’d come. “It’s dangerous, but that’s what I did. This is just business.”

There was a mixture of disappointment in her price, and mild interest in setting off for the forest. Britta hadn’t actually found much of a challenge in the forest, dealing with the sprites hadn’t even given her any XP, but it sounded like a plausible strategy, which was the main thing. It might even be true.

It made things less personal, too. No point getting mad at her because she was making the most of her advantage, that was what you were supposed to do. It wasn’t like she was marking anyone out for special treatment. People respected a good businessman. Occasionally, they even respected a good businesswoman.

“I’ve got the money,” said tall, skinny man wearing a brown robe. He didn’t look rich but he was holding out two coins.

Of course, there was also the possibility she would find nine people to give her two silver each and she would have a nice fat purse. There were bound to be expenses in the big city.

In the end, five people had the necessary funds. She sent them invites and formed a party. The rest of the crowd, including a crestfallen Lavazza, looked on enviously as they set off across the bridge. Britta disbanded the party as soon as they reached the other side.

The players thanked her, but not overly enthusiastically. They were happy enough, taking in the surrounding with awe and delight, but they had paid for a service and the transaction was complete. With any luck, they would never cross paths again.

Britta had ten silver coins in her pocket and she was in a brand new city full of untold wonders to show her. There were roads leading in all directions. The buildings all looked pretty much the same and there were no signs pointing the way. There were plenty of NPCs wandering around, and probably something to look at whatever way Britta chose to go, but she wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing right now. She wanted to find a church and log out.

Towers rose over the rooftops, somewhere in the city centre. One of them was bound to be the Institute for Magic Studies where she was meant to deliver her letter. It wouldn’t be too hard to find, the devs would have spent a lot of time making it as Hogwarts as possible. There was no rush, though. Having an open quest had been pretty useful so far, and she didn’t want to cash it in right away.

None of the towers looked church-like. No steeple or church bells. Britta opened her map to see if it showed places of interest. Most of the time she had to explore an area before it showed up on her map screen, but towns and cities tended to be the exception. Since they were generally safe areas with no treasure to find or monsters to fight, you got to see the full layout. That’s what had happened with Quosada, at least.

Here, the map was much more convoluted and it was difficult to tell what she was looking at. It was too big for all of it to fit on her screen, but if she shrank it down it was too tiny to tell what anything was. She had to slide the map around to see the different parts. It was a big city.

She expected the church to be marked clearly. They were one of the most basic symbols on a map, a cross of some kind, usually. There were lots of symbols on this map, but she didn’t recognise any of them. Churches here probably wouldn’t be identified by a crucifix, for obvious reasons, but there should have been a legend on the side to tell you what the symbols meant. She couldn’t see anything.

“Find church,” she said. Nothing happened. “Where is the nearest church?” She tried a dozen variations, but none of them worked.

Britta looked around. Her temporary party had already gone off to do their own thing. There were plenty of NPCs, though. She tried to catch the attention of one.

“Excuse me. Sorry, could I…”

They ignored her. City folk didn’t have time to answer questions. They had too much to do and helping visitors wasn’t going to be of any benefit to them, so why bother? There was a feeling that people here would be harder to interact with.

Having grown up in a big city herself, Britta was familiar with the attitude. It was her attitude, most of the time. She would have to play this a little more circumspect.

Britta looked for someone stationary and spotted a woman sweeping up outside a store. It wasn’t clear what the store was selling. Baskets? Plants in baskets? Britta approached and began browsing.

The woman stopped sweeping and watched Britta with a doubtful expression. Britta weighed her options. She didn’t want to come across like a noob, some green beginner who didn’t have a clue. People in the city were sharp and quick to take advantage when they could. Dog eat dog. She would have to be sharper, beat them at their own game.

“How much?” said Britta. She put her hand in her pocket and jangled some coins, letting the woman know she was a prospective customer. People were nicer when they thought you had money. Happier to chat, give up information.

“How much for what?” said the woman. She was middle-aged and a bit on the plump side. Did that mean her business was doing well? She had enough money to eat well, but then people who lived on junk food were also fat and it didn’t mean they were affluent.

“How much for the basket… “ The woman was shaking her head. “...of flowers?”

“They aren’t for sale. This is a cheese shop.”

Britta realised the flowers were for decoration, and also for disguising the smell. There weren’t any windows, so she couldn’t see inside, but as she moved nearer the door, the scent of mouldy socks hit her. Cheese here was a form of biological weapon, it seemed.

Sometimes it was better to cut your losses. The problem with beating someone at their own game was that it was their game. They were good at it.

“I’m new to the city, could you give me directions?”

“Sure,” said the woman. “The flower shops down that way.” She started sweeping again.

“Um, do you know where I can find the nearest church?” Now that she’d broken the ice, might as well get it over with.

The woman put the broom down, leaning it against the wall. “Which denomination are you?”

Britta hadn’t considered there’d be more than one, but it was hardly a surprise for a large city to have several religions and several churches to serve them.”

“Oh, well, um, the Great Gnome in the Sky?”

“Never heard of it.”

“The Almighty Toad?”

The woman pulled a face. “You’re not one of them, are you?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m just visiting churches, for the architecture. I like to look at nice buildings…” It sounded idiotic as she said it, even though it was a perfectly normal hobby. The expression on the woman’s face wasn’t helping. People who looked at you like you were an idiot made you feel like they might be right.

“I see,” said the woman. She grabbed the broom and began sweeping again. Maybe sweeping was the only routine they’d given her. That and being judgemental, apparently. “Well, there’s the Church of Stan Lee at the bottom, there.” She pointed with the end of her broom. “They have some very nice walls you might like.”

Church of Stan Lee? Was that related to Stan and his rebel uprising, or just a dev acting out his nerd fantasies?

Brita opened her map again and looked along the road the woman had indicated. There was a small symbol that looked, if you squinted, like a Spider-man mask. Did every church have its own unique symbol? That would make it very hard to find one if you didn’t know who they worshipped there. On the other hand, if you were a member of that church, you were probably only interested in finding your place of worship. In any case, she’d found one and it wasn’t too far.

“Thank you,” she said to the woman, who ignored her.

It didn’t take long to find the Church of Stan Lee. It was a triangular building with stained glass windows. The images in the windows appeared to be Marvel comic characters, although somewhat abstract, probably for copyright reasons. Britta only recognised the Hulk. Green and purple worked quite well in stained glass form.

There was a big wooden door that was closed. Britta tried to push it, then pull it. Her size made it tricky, but she should have had enough strength points to be able to open it. She realised it was locked. Churches were meant to be open and welcoming, especially if they had a save point you needed to use.

Britta knocked. Finding another church would take too much detective work. Although there was bound to be a Batman Temple somewhere, possibly with a Boy Wonder chapel next to it. She checked the map for the bat signal.

“What?” said a voice from above her.

Britta backed away from the door. There was a face peering out from a small opening halfway up. It was a man, that was about all she could be sure of.

“Hello. I’d like to come in, please.”

“Are you a true believer?”

“Sure.”

“With great power?”

“Sorry?”

“With. Great. Power.” He looked like he expected a response. Secret password time?

“Come great responsibility?”

“Wrong!” A small flap slammed shut over the opening.

Wrong? How was it wrong? Everyone knew that phrase. Even Mum would have known the answer. Then again, why would the secret password be something everyone knew? It was probably some obscure nerdy thing.

“Actually, in the issue number three, November 1962, the phrase was originally ‘with great power comes immense responsibility’ but they changed it in later reprints.”

“There! There she is!” Britta turned to find soldiers approaching, led by Lavazza. Apparently, he’d found a way to get in the city. “She’s the rebel spy I told you about.”

Britta remained where she was. Running was an option, but the soldiers would know the city better than her, and she didn’t have any idea where to go.

“What is it?” she said, surprising herself at how unconcerned she sounded. They were here to drag away for some crime she hadn’t committed, but so what? There were ways to overcome even the most unfair opponents. It was what made this world so much better than the real one.

“Arrest her, before she gets away,” said Lavazza, grinning. His eyes had a mad quality she hadn’t noticed before. It seemed she really had made an enemy of him even though she’d gone to such lengths not to. Might as well have not bothered.

The soldiers, six of them, formed a circle around her. She couldn’t escape now if she wanted to. Well, not in the conventional way.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” she asked the soldier in charge. He had a slightly fancier helmet, which was how you could tell who was important. The game was not only fun, it was also educational.

“This man says you are working for the rebels,” said the soldier. “Are you?”

“No,” said Britta.

“I heard her,” said Lavazza. “She said she was here to assassinate the king.”

Usually, a person who planned to gain a reward for ratting someone out would do it privately. You didn’t want people to know you were a snitch, for obvious reasons. From how things were playing out, Britta assumed Lavazza had turned informant in order to gain entry into the city. She could see how that would be an effective way to do it. The Empire was looking for insurgents and rebel scum, and he was offering to point fingers. The fact he was doing it so publicly suggested he wanted her to know he had turned her in. He had got the better of her. It was an incredibly petty thing to want known.

The only problem was that she wasn’t aligned with the rebels. She had nothing to do with them.

“If I was going to assassinate someone, the king or whoever, why would I go around telling people about it?”

“She was recruiting, said she needed people to provide a distraction.”

The annoying thing was that it did sound quite plausible. He had put a lot of thought into his revenge plan. If only he’d put the same level of effort into finding his own way into the city, he wouldn’t have to be such a pain in her neck.

“This guy was outside the city when I arrived,” said Britta. “He wanted me to take him in with me, but I refused. This is just his way of getting back at me. I’ve got nothing to do with any rebels, I’m just trying to find a church. This one won’t let me in. You don’t know where I can find another one, do you? One that’s open to the public?”

She had decided to just ignore the accusations. How was she supposed to prove she wasn’t something? You couldn’t prove a negative.

“Which denomination?” asked the soldier.

“Any.”

“See?” said Lavazza. “She’s just making it up. She’s not here for church. This is probably her secret rebel hideout.”

“Where they won’t let me in,” said Britta. “Not much of threat if even the rebels don’t want me, am I? Why are you doing this Lavazza? I gave you the same chance to come as the others.”

Britta already knew the answers. Being fair and not having favourites was enough to upset some people. They wanted you to be unfair and make them your favourite.

“I’m doing this as a loyal member of the Empire,” said Lavazza pompously. “These fine, brave souls are keeping the citizens of Shona safe from the likes of you, and it’s my duty to help them.”

The soldiers all seemed to swell with pride as Lavazza portrayed them as guardians of justice. He was very convincing. Maybe his class was bullshitter. He had to be at least Level 3.

“She’s just trying to save her own skin, you can see that. Take her in for questioning. She’ll tell you the truth after you torture her.”

Convincing and somewhat deranged. He hadn’t seemed quite so unhinged when she first met him. Fairly normal, in fact. Some people only turned nasty after you refused them.

“Are you really going to arrest me without proof?” Britta asked the soldier.

“We take all reports of rebel spies seriously,” said the soldier. “You never know where they’re hiding. Don’t worry, we have a seer on duty. He can tell when people are lying so we can clear this up very quickly.”

That was going to be a problem. If the seer could really detect lies, then there was a good chance Britta would be caught. Even though she had nothing to do with the rebels, she did know Stan. It would be tricky not incriminating herself.

“Can you check him first?” said Britta. “See if his allegation has any merit?”

“I haven’t been accused of anything,” said Lavazza, like this was a loophole.

“I’m accusing you,” said Britta, starting to get annoyed. “I’m accusing you of lying.” She took a few breaths to calm herself. No point sinking to his level. She needed to go lower. “I think his claims would be a lot more convincing if he proved his loyalty to the Empire by joining the army, don’t you?”

The soldier seemed a little surprised by this suggestion, and then nodded to himself, as though the thought made sense. He turned to Lavazza.

“Wait,” said Lavazza before the soldier could say anything. “What about her? She didn’t sign up for the army.”

“I’m not the one who’s claiming allegiance to the Empire.”

“Aha! So you admit it. You don’t stand for the Empire.” His eyes shone with self-congratulations and smug joy at his slippery smartness.

“I’m a mage,” said Britta. “I don’t stand with anyone. The Empire, the rebels, they’re all a waste of time. I travel around studying the magic arts and studying old tomes. The trivial concerns of men are of no interest to me.” She didn’t really know what she was saying, but it sounded good. She turned to the soldier. “That’s how you should know I would never get involved with rebels, no matter who claims otherwise.”

The soldier nodded. “Mages are known to have little interest in civic matters. However, I do think she has a point. Your accusation would carry more weight if you were a member of the Imperial Forces.”

“No, no, I can’t right now,” said Lavazza. “I have things to do first.”

“If you were a true believer, you would sign up right now,” said Britta. “Are you not a true believer?”

Lavazza took a step back. “No, that’s got nothing to do with it. She’s a spy, I tell you. There… there are other witnesses. I… I’ll go find one.” He turned and ran.

“I hope you didn’t promise him entry into the city for this,” said Britta. “You won’t see him again.”

“Get him,” said the soldier. They all chased after Lavazza.

Britta watched them disappear. She should have asked for directions to the nearest church before they left.

“True believer,” she muttered to herself. It reminded her of something. She knocked on the church door again.

“Yes?”

“Hello. I’m a true believer.”

“With great power?”

“Excelsior!” said Britta. She wasn’t a true believer but she lived with one. She knew Stan Lee had a catchphrase because it was shouted in her house all the time. It was very irritating.

There was a scraping sound and then the door opened. “Come in, come in.” The man was just a bit taller than her. He’d been standing on a stool.

Britta entered a large room covered in splotches of coloured light. It was a bit trippy. She looked around for an altar but couldn’t see one.

“Hey, you’re here. I knew you’d find it when you saw the name.” Stan walked in from the opposite end.

“This is your rebel base, is it?” said Britta.

“Something like that.” He looked like his old self, tall and smug, like he had everything he wanted and everything you wanted, too.

“Please tell me there’s a save point in here.”

“Of course. This is a fully functioning church to our lord and saviour, Mr Lee.” Stan pointed at the far end of the room where there was a boulder.

As Britta approached, she realised it had been carved into a clenched fist. It was a giant glove covered with large gems. She touched it and saved her progress.

“We have a lot to talk about,” said Stan.

“Great,” said Britta. “Can’t wait.” She logged out.