Hero's Journey: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 2) Read online

  Jack’s task was to crossbreed the sky horses to emphasize the traits he wanted to see. Which seemed straightforward, if stupid, enough – until Ieon explained how he was to do that. First, Jack had to harvest eggs.

  Because sky horses, apparently, laid eggs.

  Then, he had to harvest feathers from whichever horses he wanted to pass on their genes and merge the feathers with the egg. That was a bit of magical pseudoscience he didn’t even want to attempt to dissect. The salient point was that the feathers would merge with the egg, conveying some or all of the source horse’s traits to the baby horse.

  Which also sounded simple enough, if a little annoying. But it came with a caveat. He could only merge three feathers per egg, and only one of the feathers would convey all of the parent’s traits. He didn’t get to choose which feather, or which of the other feather’s traits got conferred. That was random. Or, as Ieon, put it, “in the hands of the gods.”

  His end goal was to create a horse that was strong, large, speedy, and had great endurance, healthy wings, and a magnificent mane. Jack groaned. “This is going to take forever.”

  Ieon clapped him on the back. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your assistance, traveler. Now I will have the time to aid you in your quest.”

  Jack set to work, grumbling to himself about what an annoying waste of time it all was. He started by gathering eggs. They were all over the farm. Then, he set to thinking about who was laying the eggs, if parentage came into play via feathers. He was tempted to ping Jordan, and ask her who had thought of this, and if there was any chance she could have him flogged for being a halfwit.

  Then he figured she might think he was out of sorts, and try talking him through his feelings, or something else uncomfortable. He’d done enough of that already for one day, and he’d eaten enough to feel quite full, so he couldn’t capitalize on being hangry. No, he would just have to keep his disdain to himself.

  So he picked up a dozen eggs, and then two dozen feathers – three from each horse. And with the required elements in hand, he crossed his first horse. He mixed strength, endurance, and size. The feathers sunk into the egg in a colorful haze. Bluish mist floated down to the earth, and then purple, and red in turn. The egg cracked open, and a tiny horse with equally tiny wings stepped out. It neighed and pranced on shaky legs.

  Despite proclaiming himself too busy to handle his own horse husbandry, Ieon hadn’t gone anywhere. He said, “Ah, good work. You’ve created your first foal. He’ll be a real powerhouse. Dumb as a box of rocks, I’m afraid. But strong.”

  Jack frowned and checked the foal’s stats. His strength was off the charts, and his endurance was good. He was going to be huge, too. But his intelligence was well below the default any of his predecessors had started with.

  He tried again, this time crossing intelligence, agility and speed. A thin, sickly little foal stumbled out of its shell. “The pinnacle of animal intelligence, and quite fast. But he’ll never hold up to the rigors of air travel.”

  Again, Jack checked the creature’s stats. He’d managed to throw together an Albert Einstein of horses – if Albert Einstein would have had a hard time crossing the pasture. “How can he be agile, but have only five endurance?”

  Ieon, though, had no answers for him. Instead, he said, “Keep at it, Jack. And don’t forget – if you want your foals to grow strong and healthy, you must feed them regularly.”

  “Wait, you mean I have to feed them too? Dagnabbit, this is pure bovine turds.”

  Bovine turds or not, Jack did have to feed his newly formed sky horses. Which meant that in addition to gathering eggs and feathers, he had to gather hay bales too. Jack worked well into the late afternoon. He’d created a few lines of titanic dumbasses, and a few lines of pencil-necked brainiacs. Then, he’d gotten so busy collecting feathers from his big idiots and little geniuses for crossbreeding purposes that he’d forgotten to feed his new batch of foals.

  Ieon didn’t remind him, but as night fell, he did lament, “Alas, these poor foals have gone too long without food. They’ll not be capable of breeding, I’m afraid.”

  Which meant Jack effectively lost hours of progress, since he couldn’t eventually use any of his latest foals as breeding stock.

  Jack decided to call it a night. Magical feathers and eggs and baby horses would wait. Ieon, he noticed, hadn’t left the pasture. For all his talk about being so busy, the wizard had just hung around criticizing him and offering snide commentary that highlighted the flaws of his stock. He figured the wizard could at least feed him and put him up for the night, for his trouble.

  Ieon somehow reached the house before him, and he greeted Jack and Migli as they entered. Because, apparently, extremely busy wizards spend their time hanging around vestibules when they weren’t daydreaming in pastures, he thought sourly.

  “Ah, there you are lads,” Ieon said, like he hadn’t spent all afternoon with them. “I’ve instructed Wilfred to have a room made ready for you. I hope you don’t mind bunking up.”

  Jack glanced around at the palatial building all around him. “You’re telling me you don’t have two spare rooms in a place like this?”

  Ieon ignored him. “You can find Wilfred in his quarters, below. He’ll show you where you have to go.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “Speak to Wilfred about that, or Katrice. She’s the cook.”

  “Right, because you’re too busy to tell me where to find food,” he muttered. Louder, he asked, “Where’s the kitchen?”

  Ieon pointed out a path, through a few back halls to a dim staircase. As he descended, the aspect of the place shifted until it more closely resembled the cottage he’d imagined from the outside than the top floor he’d already visited. He left marble and carved wood, fine furniture and rich embellishments, behind. Now, he saw rough stone and whitewashed walls, with simple wooden furniture. The basement hall passed a few simple bedrooms, with austere cots and washbasins inside: no fireplaces, no finery, no other furniture. He supposed they were servants’ quarters, but they looked more like prison cell interiors.

  Then he reached the kitchen. The butler’s office was to the side. Jack could see Wilfred inside, moving about busily, presumably doing whatever it was butlers did.

  A tall, thin woman of middle age and brisk manner was bustling about the kitchen, though – Katrice, presumably. And that’s where Jack’s attention went.

  “Visitors aren’t allowed down here,” she said as he stepped into the room.

  “Sorry, ma’am, I’m just looking for food.”

  “Dinner’s at six, provided his lordship invited you to stay for it.”

  Jack frowned. Ieon hadn’t invited him to stay for dinner. On the contrary, he’d barely given food a second thought. “He, uh, recommended I talk to you or Wilfred about it.”

  “Then talk to Mister Wilfred. I cannae spare the time for chitchatting.”

  So he set his steps for the butler’s office after all. The tall man was fussing over a wine decanter. Jack smiled to himself. “Caught in the act, Mister Wilfred.”

  The butler glanced up, raising an eyebrow imperiously. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Drinking the master’s hooch. Better be careful. That wizard’ll turn you into one of his weird animals. Maybe you’ll wind up another line of winged horses.”

  He was laughing. Wilfred was not. “I am preparing the wine for dinner. I would never steal from the master, stranger. And not because I fear him. He wouldn’t harm a fly, not over a thing like that. But because I respect him. He’s a good man, who does good work for many less fortunate.”

  “Geez, I was just joking.”

  “I do not appreciate your jests. If you knew more about what you speak, you would know how distasteful they were.”

  Jack highly doubted it, but he raised his palms in a placating fashion. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry, okay?”

  It didn’t seem to have much effect. The other man regarded him like some kind of cockroach
crawling around his pristine kitchen. Still, he dropped the topic. “I imagine you have a reason for being here, sir?”

  “I do. Your master said you’d have some place for me to sleep.”

  “Ah.” Wilfred considered. “Well, I guess I will put you down here, in one of the spare rooms down the hall.”

  Jack frowned at him. “You mean, in the servant’s quarters?”

  “I do. Why, is there something wrong with sleeping in servant’s quarters?”

  He said it in a pointed fashion, as if to challenge Jack to snub his nose at the same fashion of lodgings that he himself endured. Jack didn’t take the bait. He just scowled, and said, “Of course not. That’ll be fine.”

  “Good. Then you may choose any of the rooms, as you see fit. They’re all empty.”

  “Great,” he said, with not much enthusiasm.

  “Well then, have a good evening, stranger.”

  It was a dismissal so final that Jack started to turn around and head for the door before he realized he hadn’t found out anything about dinner yet. “Hold on, what about food?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, I’m hungry.”

  Wilfred considered for a moment, and then sighed. “Fine. You can talk to Katrice, I suppose. But do not distract her from preparing the main dinner.”

  “I did talk to her. She told me to talk to you.”

  “And you are talking to me. Still, for some reason. Go, speak again to Katrice. When she knows she has my sanction to feed you, she will.”

  So Jack marched out of the office, and back to the kitchen. Migli, he noticed, had lagged behind him. Now he understood why. The dwarf had engaged Katrice in conversation. She was laughing, and he was sitting behind a giant platter of food.

  Jack scowled again. He’d been the one running around collecting eggs and feathers and hay. He’d been working hard for hours, while Migli stood there singing. And yet she’d refused to feed him but had piled the dwarf in vittles.

  The cook glanced up as he entered and flashed him a much more engaging smile than before. “Ah, traveler, come and sit. Your friend here has been telling me about your adventures, and your quest. Sit, and I will prepare you a plate worthy of such heroics.”

  Chapter Nine

  That put Jack in a better mood. The food helped, too. He had a plate piled with six different types of meats, all piping hot and smothered in jams or gravies. On the side, he had vegetables and rolls and souffles. He ate until he felt his stomach would rend with another bite, and then tried to stuff the leftovers in his inventory.

  Here, he discovered a mild source of disappointment: he couldn’t pocket his plate. A thought flashed through his head.

  This item belongs to the kitchen. As long as you remain on friendly terms with the residents, you can use it.

  Then he eyed the rolls along the counter. Those, he could see, were items he could pick up. But a thin veneer of red settled on them as he stared too long, indicating that doing so would be considered theft.

  The food was excellent, some of the best he’d had in the game. But Jack didn’t want to steal from a wizard. Not right in front of his house staff.

  So he made a mental note to revisit the kitchens during the night, when everyone else had gone off to sleep. Then he thanked Katrice and moved to get up.

  She stopped him. “Your charming friend here tells me you have passed through the southern islands?”

  Jack considered. He had passed through islands, and they were south of here. So he nodded. “That’s right.”

  “If you picked up any coconuts in your travels, I would be willing to buy them from you.”

  Jack thought of his poor, shrunken purse, and the meager seventy-two gold sitting in it. Jordan had told him he would be able to make a coconut cannon eventually. Except for eating a few, he’d been hoarding them for that reason.

  He hesitated for a good five seconds. “How much are you paying?”

  “Thirty gold per fruit.”

  Jack licked his lips, running some calculations through his head. If he held onto fifty coconuts, he could still sell thirty, between his inventory and Migli’s. That would be nine hundred gold coins. So maybe he’d sell one more – thirty-one coconuts – and bring his total to over a thousand gold.

  “Or,” Katrice said, “I can teach you how to cook them – really cook them, I mean – in exchange for a few.”

  “You mean…I’d be able to make the same recipes later on?”

  “Of course, as long as you have the ingredients. And, as long as you’re in my kitchen, you’d be free to use anything you didn’t already have.”

  Jack glanced back at his plate and the abundance of food still on it. The woman could cook, no question about that. He didn’t know what kind of coconut recipes she had, but she’d already demonstrated that she didn’t do duds. “Okay,” he said. “How many coconuts will you need?”

  “Ten.”

  He hesitated again. Ten coconuts was the equivalent of three hundred gold. Then again, buying those recipes, or buying provender along the way, would cost him a lot more than three hundred coins. “Deal.”

  Katrina smiled, and he felt his inventory lighten. He got the alert, that it had lightened by exactly ten coconuts. Then she said, “Come with me, I’ll show you.”

  The clock in his head sped forward. The candles in the room burned long. Four hours passed.

  You have learned how to make coconut pudding pie.

  You have learned how to make coconut chicken.

  You have learned how to make pork larb with coconut rice.

  You have learned how to make onde-onde.

  You have learned how to make coconut pastries.

  The list went on and on, and Jack’s inventory grew with one of each item. All in all, he learned fifteen new recipes, and acquired fifteen new dishes.

  Katrice called it an even exchange and wished him well with his culinary pursuits. “Remember, you’re free to use the kitchen, and my ingredients if you’re lacking your own.”

  Then she and Migli retired. The dwarf declared himself absolutely spent. Katrice nodded, and called it a very long day, and they headed off.

  Katrice, Jack could understand. She actually worked all day. Migli, on the other hand, had expended himself only in walking. Lazy dwarf, he thought sourly.

  Still, he threw a glance toward Wilfred’s office, and seeing no one, another glance around the kitchen. Katrice had left all kinds of gastronomic delights laying about. Jack decided they wouldn’t be waiting for her the next morning.

  He pocketed them: slabs of venison and legs of lamb and jars of mint jelly and lingonberry preserves, fresh breads and pastries, cheeses and fruits and vegetables. Then, he scouted around for the larder. He found ingredients there. For a moment, he hesitated. Katrice had been nice to him – nicer than anyone so far. He felt a little guilty robbing her.

  But, he reminded himself, it was just a videogame. She wasn’t real, and neither was this stuff. Anyway, Ieon can conjure up some new supplies tomorrow morning. So he pocketed butter and flour, milk and eggs, sugar and honey. He pocketed so much that he hit his carry limit.

  For a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t want to leave anything behind. It was almost a compulsion, to hold onto his ill-gotten gains. So he decided to clear some inventory space a more pleasing way: he downed the coconut pastries. Not a pastry, or two, or three. That didn’t free up enough room. He downed the entire platter.

  Then, he could move, even if he didn’t feel like it. He decided to hold off on cooking. He wasn’t sure how that would impact his weight limit – if the finished products ended up weighing more than the ingredients, he might find himself in the same predicament. And he wasn’t sure he could scarf down another plate of pastries.

  So Jack waddled off to bed.

  The cot was miserable and hard, and his room cold and austere. So though he slept, he didn’t sleep comfortably or well.

  He wandered bleary-eyed into the kitchen the next mornin
g, and found it deserted. So he breakfasted alone, on stolen pastries from the night before, and the last coffee Jordan had given him.

  He was getting ready to head outside when Migli and Katrice wandered into the room, in some kind of grotesque tangle of arms and lips and beard. Jack stared at her like she’d lost her mind. Migli, he could understand. Katrice was a beautiful woman and a hell of a cook. And though they looked to be about the same age, she was probably at least a few hundred years younger than him, since the dwarven lifespan was so extended compared to the human one. So he could understand Migli’s interest in a heartbeat.

  But hers? What could a pretty, talented, clever woman see in an indolent, three-foot-tall dwarf with bad beard hygiene? He couldn’t understand it. So he hurried past them, ignoring their kissing and whispered sweet nothings, and headed back to his animal husbandry.

  He broke onto a scene of devastation. Dead foals and sky horses littered the pasture. Ieon was waiting for him, with a stormy expression. “Fool,” he said, “you didn’t latch the gate. Now look and see what your folly has wrought: they’ve been butchered in the night, all of them. Some wild thing has come and murdered them.”

  It wasn’t quite as bad as Ieon told it. Not all of the horses were dead; just most. Which meant Jack basically had to start at the beginning, since his primary breeding lines were gone.

  Jack wanted to punch something. He wanted to find whatever it was that had killed them all, and wasted so much of his time, and take them down with his bare fists.

  But he didn’t have time for that. So he eased his frustration with a bout of swearing. It came out as a stream of sugar and mother truckers and dagnabbit, and so on. But it worked anyway: he felt a lot better once he got it off his chest.

  Then, he got to work. He started by gathering the supplies he’d need. He figured that would be more efficient than breaking every two minutes to go grab a new egg, or more feathers, or hay for the foals.