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Stumbling Up: A Loser's Guide to Progression - Chapter 45: The Things We Carry
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 13:00:07 +0000 UTC"I don't understand why we're here," Tandy said, as she sat on a bottom bunk bed in what could only be described as an attic hallway to nowhere.
"We are here because this room is a copper a night. And the mistress of the house was willing to take us in, even though we had no one to vouch for our character," Meredeath explained slowly, as though Tandy were an idiot.
I'd vouch for you.
"Like your opinion is worth anything." Sometimes, I just wish Richard would shut up.
"Look, I know this isn't your scene, but the rent is cheap. We'll be treated fairly and left alone." Meredeath looked at the three of us. "Unless you want to explore?"
Her voice rose hopefully, eyeing Tandy and me. I chuckled, imagining trying to navigate the clubs we'd walked by. No part of me was prepared to explore. It'd been a long day.
"Maybe later," Tandy lied for the three of us. "It's been a long month. Tonight, I just want to get some sleep."
Meredeath nodded, taking her words at face value.
"Anyone got any food?" Leo asked.
My stomach rumbled. It was still angry that I hadn't sold Richard for some spiced nuts.
"I've still got a bit of granola left," Tandy said, as she began digging in her bag. The three of us looked at each other over our friend. We'd all independently concluded that if we had to have one more day of her granola...
We ate granola anyway. Even Richard, who mainly had been subsisting on weeds. We had one copper left, which wasn't enough to buy much of anything, and we decided to keep it just in case we couldn't find work the next day. Everything hinged on the quest board and what was available. The room had a door and a lock, which was better than all of the barns we'd slept in.
When I'd imagined the [Adventurer's] life, I hadn't imagined straw cots and barn lofts. It'd been swinging swords and slaying monsters. I hadn't considered the cost of feeding and housing four people.
By the time we'd gotten settled, we opted to stay in for the night. The attic was on the fourth story of a bar and theatre. I had the impression that “theatre” might be a generous term for the type of shows that went on, but part of the deal Meredeath got on the room included being seen as little as possible around the clientele. I think everyone but Richard was relieved.
It meant, however, that for the first time in weeks, I could empty my bag and get comfortable. It'd been constant movement since we stayed at Rhi's dusty palace.
I pulled out my rolled-up quilt. It'd held up remarkably well, thanks to Richard's [Clean] skill and a [Reenforce] skill that Tandy still had. My mom had made the geometric design with my favorite colors. The green fabric had mostly faded, and the blue had turned a purply hue.
Even though it was worn, it always reminded me that someone cared about me.
It has become a little more complicated in recent years. I was working on letting go of my mom's disappointment in me, and trying to keep the love, but it was a work in progress.
Next was my untouched toolkit. I’d thought about selling it, but some part of me still hoped we’d need it.
The last bits in my backpack were my books. When I'd gotten a chance, I'd wrapped them in wax paper, which saved all three from a constant dunking in various liquids. I had Tinkering for Beginners, which was a gem of a book. It'd walked me through making each tool in my toolbox, but not much further.
I also had Monsters of the Frontier. I grabbed this book with some faint hope that it would prove helpful. Flipping it open, a faded picture of a bogquacker stared back at me. The description was nonsense: “a hellacious quacker from the fifth circle of hell.”
Leafing through it quickly, I confirmed what I already knew: no mentions bone warriors, cutwood, or dunglords. The tidemaw description had been way out of touch. We’d already outgrown Monsters of the Frontier. I tossed the book I’d obsessed over as a kid into the ‘sell’ pile.
"I'm going to go downstairs." Meredeath paused, looking at the collection of items strewn over my bed. "You sure you don’t want to join me?"
A part of me yearned to say yes. To be that guy, but I found myself shaking my head. I just needed some peace to get my pack under control. To recenter myself on who I had been.
"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'm exhausted," I heard myself saying. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her sweep her eyes to Tandy and Leo, then shrugged and head downstairs.
"You don't need a girlfriend, you're already engaged," Leo said, with a wide smile. It'd been the first rib he'd given me since Niyatgra.
My face was hot as I went back to my pack. I took out my dad's map, holding it gingerly. Richard had insisted it was almost indestructible, but I'd had twenty-five years of parental-enforced fear over ruining the map.
I unrolled it. I could bring it up in my interface, but there was something about seeing it on the magical vellum myself. I carefully traced our journey so far, from Woodsten to Bear Ridge to the ruins of Niyatgra and our slower trek to Eddie's Mill. The world to the west of the Ursine Wall was pretty detailed. The east was blank.
Richard sat on my pillow, slowly crunching through a pile of granola. I wasn't sure how he was even grinding the bits of grain up.
"Richard, where is the Library of Alta?" I asked. I'd unrolled the map a few times, trying to memorize the foreign city names and trade routes. The world was a lot bigger than I'd ever imagined.
Richard ground another bit of granola, cracking it in his mouth.
It's not on your map.
"I know, that's why I'm asking."
It's on the eastern side of the Ursine Wall, by the northern sea.
I frowned. The eastern side of the Ursine Wall was relegated to the wastelands. We'd been taught nothing survived in the monster-overrun east. The Ursine Wall had been raised in the cataclysm of the last age to protect everyone. How could a functioning library be out there?
"Is the library still standing?" Tandy asked. I hadn't told anyone about the extra stop Richard and I had upon exiting the dungeon.
It stands, for now. As ever, the Incursion threatens all human civilization. The Library of Alta has withstood much, but I've lived long enough to understand that nothing lasts forever.
"That's rich, coming from someone who claims to be [Immortal]," Leo muttered.
Before Richard could respond, I asked a question I'd been dying to ask, "What exactly is the Incursion? Rhi wouldn't answer my questions."
Richard's head came up, and his tentacles wavered away from each other.
Despite having lost touch with reality, Rhi was remarkably insightful. I'll fill you in once you complete your first official [Veteran] level quest.
"Why? Why make us wait?" I was tired of Richard's haughty superiority. What was he holding back?
Honestly? I don't want you running off and dying before you have a chance.
“Oh.”
Suddenly, the room seemed way too small for the four of us. I thrust my pack on the bed.
"I'm going to go get some air," I said.
I closed the door behind me as I carefully walked down the dim, narrow stairs. They used the magical glowmoss as a light source here, too, but the moss hadn't been recharged in a long time. The establishment didn't seem to rent out its attic hallway rooms often.
As I got down to the second story, I opted to keep walking. The second story was dedicated to an activity I didn't want to think about too hard. I stood at the base of the stairs to the first floor. Music and voices spilled up the stairs. The bar sounded full. For a moment, I could imagine it being the Ram's Horn with one of the traveling bards set up in the corner.
It was louder, maybe a festival weekend where everyone's family came in to visit, drink, and dance. I stood, leaning against the wall with my hand on the handle. The servant's stairs were empty this time of night. The ebb and flow of music and murmurs and the uneven thump of dancers sounded so normal.
The doorknob suddenly flew out of my hand as someone opened the door. Before me stood the mistress of the house, the woman who'd led us to the attic. She wore in exotic silks, smelling of lavender and spice, her red lips and rosy cheeks loud in their artifice.
"What do we have here?" Her voice was deep and full. Eyebrows raised, she waited for an answer.
I glanced out past her, dashing all the illusions that this was home. Dancers stood on a stage decked out in bright feathers and little else. People sat at tables in fancy gold-threaded waistcoats and dresses that hugged the body. This place would be an absolute scandal in Woodsten.
"Sorry," I mumbled, trying to think of an excuse. "I just needed some air."
The mistress's eyes narrowed as she smiled warmly.
"Not much air in the stairwell. I was about to bring up some dinner for you folks, it looks like it has been a long journey." She held up a metal rack that held four bowls of stew, with rolls balancing on each bowl. It smelled divine, a rich, meaty brown sauce with potatoes and carrots.
"Wow, that's, thank you." It didn't take a genius to be grateful. This woman had no reason to treat us kindly. I scrambled to stand. "I can take that up, if you want. Save you the trip."
"That would be lovely, dear boy. My knees are not what they used to be." She handed the rack over. I balanced it carefully.
"Why are you doing this?" The question came out before I could stop myself.
"Doing what?" she said, her smile widening at my question, as though daring me to be more specific.
"Helping us, being kind." I gestured at the stew in my right hand.
"Do I need a reason to be kind?" Her question dared me to be specific. My face was already red, so I might as well go for it.
"I just never would have thought— here," I stuttered, realizing halfway through that I was being insulting.
"You never thought to find a kindness here. It's okay, I get that a lot. You're new, and a bit out of place, so I'll take that question out of ignorance, not hate." I nodded, grateful. "My people," she waved at the dancers, "have received little kindness in the world. Not unlike, I would imagine, your little group. Kindness hurts no one, and it can make all the difference to a soul."
Her eyes were crusted in a bright blue eyeliner, surrounded by thinly shaped eyebrows, and yet I saw the same warmth that I'd seen in Marta's eyes.
"I think I understand."
"Good boy… now run upstairs. There isn't anything for you here tonight.” I knew a dismissal when I heard one.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“Mistress Del, to you. Meredeath told me you were [Adventurer’s] right?” She kept speaking, not waiting for an answer. “You look a little shiny to be [Veterans], but I’ve got a little job that needs doing. Do you think your crew is up for it?”
“Yes!” I said, with the first real hope since we’d entered Eddie’s Mill.
“Such confidence, young one. Let’s talk over breakfast in the morning.”
The door, not unkindly, clicked shut in front of me.
Comments
Stacy F
Small edit to remove the word in: She wore in exotic silks, smelling of lavender and spice, her red lips and rosy cheeks loud in their artifice. Mistress Del's kindness is lovely for our weary adventurers.
