Survivor: Definitely Not Minecraft

The messenger was waiting for me outside of the church, and it looked like he’d been there for a while. He was sitting against the wall, and his horse was tied off at a post nearby. I’d gotten to the village as quickly as I could, but I’d waited for the monsters to despawn before setting out, so the sun was already well into the sky when I reached Erihseht. The young man jumped to his feet as soon as he saw me, readjusting the studded cap over his curly brown hair.

There were no lillits around him, though I’d been greeted by several townsfolk on my way to the church, and a few had even warned me about the messenger. I waved.

“There you are,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I need to talk to a few people first.”

Inside the church, a group of children were sitting along the first two pews with tables set in front of them. I’d intended to say something to Tipple before I went looking for Esmelda, but they were both there, engaged in what I assumed was some kind of Sunday school. Esmelda had mentioned tutoring children, and it looked like the church served a double purpose as a schoolhouse.

My entrance interrupted whatever the lesson was as the children turned around. They didn’t seem to know what to make of me, with some of them opening their mouths excitedly while others hid their faces behind the backs of the pews, leaving only their eyes to peek over them.

Esmelda came around the tables and down the aisle to greet me. She was wearing a simple blue dress that covered her from her neck to her ankles, cinched around her waist by a heavily brocaded sash that I assumed was Brenys’s work. She paused a few paces from me, suddenly unsure.

“Hey,” I said, raising my hand. “Good to see you.”

She smiled. “You too. How did it go?”

“The mining? Fine. I’m not going to be constructing a castle any time soon, but at least I have something to work with now.” As impressive as my abilities were, truly large-scale build projects couldn’t be undertaken in a day. I might be able to build a hut faster than a team of men working toward the same goal, but a keep? Even a modest donjon would require several thousand blocks, all of which first had to be mined.

Tipple patted one of the kids on the head as he came through the pews, his belly making it look like there was barely enough space for him to pass between them. He grabbed my hand and shook it.

“Welcome back,” he said. “I take it you’ve already spoken with our visitor?”

“Yeah,” I said, “what do you guys think about that? It sounds like Godwod’s attitude has completely flipped, and I’m not sure I believe it.”

“It does seem too good to be true,” Esmelda said.

Tipple rubbed at his clean-shaven chin. “I’m not as surprised as I might be. Godwod’s known to be an independent sort of gentleman, more concerned with what he wants for himself than for propriety. If he saw your sword, he could be willing to overlook a few things to get one of his own.”

“I thought they took sorcery really seriously in Drom.” A noble going from wanting to arrest me to wanting to do business with me in the space of a few days felt like a lot of red flags.

“The temple certainly does,” Tipple patted his stomach, “but humans are human, and the lord is not said to be devout. Rumors are rumors, but a chance at new Dargothian steel, that’s something that would sway any noble.”

I frowned. “That’s the other thing. How does he know I made the sword, and it wasn’t just an heirloom.”

“That’s something we can ask him,” Esmelda said.

“We?”

Her hands drifted to her hips. “Of course, we. If something happens to you, I have to know. And Gastard should come as well, he knows the lord personally.”

“I got the impression that they were not on good terms.”

“Even so,” Esmelda’s gaze drifted over to the children spying on us from the pews. “I suppose you’ll want to leave right away. You should send the messenger ahead of us. We’ll have to camp outside of Henterfell. He shouldn’t see what happens around you at night.”

“I can finish up here,” Tipple said. “The students will miss you, but they’ll survive. And you have to speak to your father. I don’t want to have to hear about it if he thinks I let you run off to Henterfell without talking with him first.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I know. I need things from home anyway.”

The messenger was reluctant to leave without me.

“I was asked to ensure you came,” the young man said.

“And you’ve done that. Good job,” I gave him a thumbs up, and his brows furrowed. Emil seemed like an earnest kid, and I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but he would see too much if he traveled with us. “Tell the lord I’ll be there the day after you arrive.”

“He asked that you come immediately.”

“This is as immediate as it’s going to get. Tell him I’m honored, and looking forward to being of service to him, and I’m coming as soon as I can. Okay?”

Emil hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in place, and Esmelda stepped in.

“Young man,” she said, “you’ve been given your answer. Erihseht is a free village, and Will is a free man. You’ve done your duty to your lord. Don’t you think he will want to hear the news as soon as possible?”

The messenger was taller than Esmelda, but he seemed to shrink under her scrutiny. “Yes, ma'am,” he said, and dug a folded piece of parchment from his pack before handing it to me and fetching his horse. The letter was stamped with a wax seal, and though brief, made it clear that I was an expected visitor of the Lord of Henterfell.

We visited the mayor’s manor next, and Esmelda asked me to wait outside so she could speak with her father privately. I was more than happy to agree. The day was cool, and clouds were gathering in the sky. If there was a storm, would monsters be able to remain during the day? I hadn’t been unlucky enough to experience that yet, but it was how it worked in the game. If the weather was bad, we might have to further delay our arrival in the city, and Godwod might see that as a slight. While I didn’t know the man, nobles were probably prickly about that sort of thing.

Esmelda seemed to be taking a long time. There was no way Boffin was in favor of her accompanying me, and when they came out of the house together, neither one of them looked particularly happy, but she was carrying a pack.

“If anything happens to my daughter,” he said, his face hard, “I will not forgive you.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “Is there anything I should know about Godwod? What kind of man is he?”

Boffin let out a puff of air. “I met him in person only once, after I was elected mayor. He made me uncomfortable, though I cannot say what it was exactly. He was not threatening, and he had a friendly manner. Many humans seem to think of lillits as being like children, because of our size, and I believe he is one of that sort. He enjoys flattery, that I know. Be sure to bow to him, and err on the side of courtesy whenever you can.”

“What if he decides to lock me up? Can lords do whatever they want, or do they have their own laws to follow?”

The mayor lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “They answer to each other. As a margrave, Lord Godwod has more authority in this region than anyone but the king. You are unknown, and we have no say in what happens in Henterfell. If he decides to arrest you, there won’t be anything I can do to help you but make a complaint, and it will not be heeded. The Lord has never treated us badly, we pay a tax, and he leaves us to govern ourselves, but you mustn't mistake him for a weak man.”

“I won’t,” I said. Esmelda had kept back, allowing us to speak, but she chose this moment to interject.

“Gastard will be with us,” she said. “He’s dealt with the lord more than anyone.”

“His presence is the only reason I’m allowing you to go,” Boffin said, and Esmelda caught him with a stern look.

“Allowing?”

“I’m your father,” Boffin said wearily, “it is my duty to protect you.”

“Mhm,” Esmelda gave the mayor a peck on the cheek, choosing not to argue the point further, and we went to fetch Gastard. The knight lived in a cottage on the edge of Erihseht that looked like he had constructed it himself. It was boxy and plain, the logs of its walls set with joinery and chinking under a thatch roof. Though it was only a single room, it had been scaled for him rather than a lillits, so the door was one of the largest in town.

Esmelda knocked, and Gastard answered wearing a brown tunic. It was the first time I’d seen him out of his armor. His blonde hair was disheveled, and I wondered if he made a habit of sleeping in.

“What’s this?” He said, not inviting us in. “You’re back already?”

“Did no one tell you about the messenger?” I asked.

“The what?”

“Lord Godwod wants Will to forge him a sword,” Esmelda said. “We’re going to Henterfell, and I was hoping you would come with us.”

No one had asked him yet? Gastard absorbed the information slowly, his sober expression deepening into full displeasure as he processed what she said.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll get my horse.”