A Gamer's Guide 407 (Patreon)

Once we’ve escaped the spiralling staircase, we spend a bit of time oohing and aahing at the inside of the castle, though, since I’m pretty sure our tablemates would like to see us return before midnight, we make sure not to go overboard. Not too much, at least. 

We exit the castle. I’m not sure why, but I’m surprised to see that they really have lined the streets with tables, all mismatched, with mismatching chairs too. Goblins of every sort, wearing anything and everything sit in chaotic lines along the tables, some standing up to hold improvised speeches, others roaring drinking songs, yet more hurrying in and out of the houses that make up the streets to bring out additional food and drinks. Candlelit dinner. How romantic.

While Gecko and I stare out at the lovely scene, the whole courtyard filled with tables, a goblin steps past us, not even shooting us a glance before thrusting a long pole up at the unlit streetlight. After a few seconds, though, the lamp lights up, and he pulls back the pole, not even sparing us a single glance, too preoccupied by his duties. 

It’s really nice. Cozy. The moons are starting to come up, but it’s obvious the party won’t end anytime soon. 

“Well?” Gecko says, turning to me. “Shall we?”

I nod back to her. “Please.” She takes my arm, and off we go. 

The streets are overflowing with people and food and drink, shouting and singing, everyone having a good time. We move past them carefully, without any hurry, table by table, goblin by goblin. Some rowdy, others sitting close in quiet discussion, yet more loudly shouting about this and that, recounting stories from their past, myths and legends and personal achievements. 

“You don’t want to talk to them?” Gecko asks, shooting a little look at them. 

“Nah,” I say. “I’ve got the gist of it.” I don’t need to be very close to read their hearts. Overflowing with joy and relief and the bittersweet taste of hope, fulfilled. Their thoughts are naked and earnest and I can feel every groove, every twist and turn. 

‘I’m so glad to be alive,’

‘I was so hungry oh thank God,’

‘I can’t believe we all made it,’

‘thank God, thank God, thank God.’

“What’s with that look?”

“Hm? What look?”

Gecko gestures at my face. “Like you ate something sour. Or you stubbed your toe. I dunno, something like that.”

“Oh, that’s…” I can tell her, can’t I? She’s my friend. Even if she has some strange opinions, I can still trust her. I think… “I was hoping to find someone who was, you know… unhappy.”

“Unhappy? When they’ve got proper food in their bellies, good music playing, and buddies at their sides? Oh, and they won’t have get up early tomorrow to drag any bodies out of the city and throw them in the river. That’s a big plus.”

“Well, sure, but…” We pass by a non-soldier. A civilian. I move slightly closer to them, to get a sense of who they are. Iria, daughter of Hamppe, apprentice seamstress, mother of two, her husband was on the other side of the city and didn’t see the procession so he became rats. But her children didn’t. She didn’t. And she is so happy to be able to finally feed them something that isn’t boiled redbulbs. Not to mention how lovely it is that their damnable despot of an archjudge finally got what was coming to him, so maybe now the taxes will lighten up a little and she could afford some new clothes since her old ones are practically tatters? 

She has so much hope for the future that her heart could burst.

I click my tongue. “Someone. Surely someone has to be sensible.”

“And, purely hypothetically,” Gecko asks, right beside me, “what if you don’t find anyone?”

“Well, in that case, I guess that means I’m the crazy one.”

“So, like normal?”

I huff. Well, she’s not wrong, but… “Crazy, but in the bad way, where I’m normal. If that makes any sense.”

“Weirdly enough, it kinda does. I guess that makes me crazy too, huh?”

“You’d have to be crazy to willingly be near a basketcase like me,” I say, which is only partially a joke. 

“Birds of a feather,” she replies, her eyes wrinkling up in the pale moonlight. 

I smile back at her. “Yeah, something like that.” 

We keep going. Street by street. Mismatched tables, stretching on and on and on. An endless party with endless food and drinks and everyone happy. The whole city bathing in the light of everyone lighting the good candles and bringing out the nice wine to share amongst one another. Everyone I pass tells the same story, through their laughter and their song: they’re too busy celebrating their survival to mourn those who died.

But it’s not an empty celebration. Every now and then, we’ll pass by little shrines, tables set for people who aren’t there, with food and lit candles and early spring flowers all set out for those who didn’t make it. And yet, there’s no bitterness to it. No one on their hands and knees shouting why? why? and damning my name. 

I hate it. I hate it so much. But…

Gecko holds me a little tighter.

…It’s not all that bad, I guess.

We keep going.

“Oh, hang on,” Gecko says, at what feels like some arbitrary point along the table. Pausing, she turns to point at a dark house across the street, on the other side of the table. “Could we go in here? This is where… A friend of mine lived here.”

“Sure, no problem,” I say, maybe a little hastily, since, now that I’m looking at the house in question… Sheesh. Yeah, no, it doesn’t look good. The windows are smashed, the door has been torn off its hinges, and it almost looks like it’s been partially burnt. Same as the rest of the houses on this street, that is. Assuming the person in question was living here today, I can’t see them surviving things. 

Gecko doesn’t seem to mind, though, as she scootches through a gap in the tables, over to the other side of the street. I follow closely behind, happy that people are too busy singing about drowning in a river of booze to notice us. Gosh, how drunk have they gotten by now? Terrifying. Either way, once I’ve passed through the tables, Gecko takes my arm again before I can bite the dust, and leads me over to the house. 

Since the door isn’t hinged properly, Gecko has to physically lift it to the side, putting it over by the broken window. With that done, we can enter. The house is way too dark to see, though, so after a moment’s deliberation, Gecko guides me to a chair and leaves to go fetch a candle from the tables outside. Less than a minute passes and she’s back, bringing two candles—one for me, and one for her. “Here, just sit tight, I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Alright,” I say, taking the candle and watching as she slips out of sight. Even though I’ve got a candle now, I really can’t see what’s happening in here. All the shapes are indistinct and soft, almost unreal. I’m pretty sure I’m sitting by a table, alongside a few other chairs, and going by the vague smell of food, this would seem to be the kitchen. There’s really nothing else of note, so I guess I’ll just have to wait for Gecko to finish up her business. 

Wait, and wait, and wait, and wait…

Something in the darkness moves. A pair of discs that catch the light of the flickering candle’s flame, reflecting two bright spots in the sheer shadow. Eyes. I watch in mild curiosity as the eyes shift, change, and enter the light. 

…Holy shit, a cat!! I haven’t seen a cat in years! Oh my God, a kitty-cat!! It’s got a funny dark-blue color, and it’s carrying a big fat rat in its mouth, but by golly is it a cat. Holy crap. This is so awesomesauce. 

Moving slowly, as slowly as I possibly can, I put the candle on the table and crouch down. “Kssksskssksskss,” I say, motioning with my hand. Come on kitty. Come here. Please please please please let me pet you. Oh my gosh if I can pet this kitty my life will be complete. 

It looks at my outstretched hand. It looks at the door. The big fat rat in its mouth twitches. 

Somehow, even with the rat in its mouth, it’s able to emit a very distinct hiss before darting across the room and leaping out through the open door. I watch the empty doorway for five, six seconds before face-planting the floor. Take me now, Christ. I’m ready. 

“Kitty? What are you doing down there?”

I glance up at Gecko. “Kitty-cat hissed at me, ran away.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” She steps up to me, squatting down. For a few seconds, she doesn’t say anything at all. Then, she asks, very gently, like I’m a tired child, “Wanna keep going?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “We’ve met almost all of them, and, frankly, it’s all the same. A thousand or two thousand more won’t make any difference. None of them mind what happened. They’re all eating the damn rats. Even if I keep going, I’m just delaying the inevitable.” 

She watches me for a bit, carefully weighing the words in her head. “This house belonged to Honey, Maggie’s boss.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah. He was the manager of the tutorial centre here in the city, and he was planning on marrying a goblin named Lyra and settling down here for good. But he can’t, because he died today.”

“Sorry.”

“No—no, don’t say that. Don’t say sorry. I’m not trying to guilt you. That’s not why I’m telling you this.”

“It isn’t?” I feel myself frown. “Then… why?”

She sighs. “Honestly, it’s kind of worrying that you immediately assume everything’s your fault alone.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course not! Gosh, Kitty, you can be so stupid sometimes. A whole city was under siege. An army forty-thousand strong was sent as reinforcements. Can you even fathom how many people were part of this whole mess? Dozens at the top of the chain of command, hundreds at the bottom, and then thousands to actually execute said orders. You’re just one little part of the how and why of the events. Not even the war itself can be boiled down to something as small as all your fault. Even trying to do so is a bit of an insult, actually. Diminishes the agency of every member of the hope league and the deicidist alliance and whatnot.”

“But I still… Today…”

“Honey died because the archjudge was a stupid idiot and a drunkard. If he had been neither, he could have handled the arrival of reinforcements without causing a skirmish in the middle of the damn city. The general who arrived was likewise an idiot to bring dragons into a goblin’s war. There are so many idiots part of this mess, and all you did was end the conflict without having to let the massacre become two-sided. I can’t tell whether Honey died by your miracle or by the blade of some soldier or other, but it really doesn’t matter. Either one was inevitable.”

I disagree with her. I disagree with her completely. But I can’t say it. I don’t know how I would even phrase it without making it seem like I just want to blame myself for more deaths. 

Gritting my teeth, I push myself off the floor, sit up, and give her the most reassuring smile I can muster. “Thanks, Gecko. I’m not sure I can totally accept it yet, but… I appreciate that you’re trying to cheer me up.”

“Mrmm. Well, alright, if you say so,” she mutters, standing up. I reach out my hand, and without thinking about it, she takes it and heaves me to my feet. “So,” she says, once I’ve gotten myself properly latched onto her arm. “Back to the castle?”

I grin at her. “Yeah. Back to the castle!”