"It's worse than that, Arthur," Helga whispered, her usual merchant bravado replaced by genuine fear. "The Nobles are furious. You're selling power—pure, concentrated mana—outside of their control. The Queen's Alchemists are being made to look like fools. If the Palace gets their hands on you, you won't be 'detained.' You'll be a laboratory rat in the Royal Dungeon until they bleed the secret of your 'Internal Logic' out of you."
Rufus started pacing, his heavy boots shaking the floorboards. "The political balance is tipped, lad. The Church thinks you're a heretic summoning forbidden lightning; the Nobles think you're a rebel arming the masses. You're a one-man revolution.
"I have to escape?" I squeaked. The "Manly Sass" was currently on a coffee break, replaced by the reality of being a sickly twenty-year-old with the constitution of a wet paper towel. "Rufus, I've been here for a week! I don't know the roads! I'll get eaten by a wolf or a very aggressive squirrel before I reach the city gates!"
"You won't be alone," Rufus growled, stopping his pacing to look me in the eye. "You have the Gold. You have the Relics. And now, you have a Team."
Helga stepped forward, her eyes sharpening. "Elsa will go with you. To the world, she is a High Elf noble traveling with her... 'eccentric' scholar-attendant. It's a perfect cover. No guard will dare search the carriage of an Elven Lady."
"And Barnaby and Herbert?" I asked.
"They are already packing," Helga said. "Barnaby knows the old messenger routes—the hidden paths the Palace forgot centuries ago. And Herbert... well, let's just say that even with one bad hand, a man who knows how to kill a Manticore is someone you want on your side."
I looked at Elsa. She looked back at me, her rainbow hair shimmering with a determined, soft violet hue. "I will protect you, Arthur. Even if it means using 'Ancient Oxygen' magic to blow our enemies away."
I leaned back against the wall, rubbing my temples. One day I'm a beggar, the next I'm a mana-drug kingpin, and now I'm a political refugee fleeing from a Queen with a glitter-covered grudge.
"Fine," I said, my sass finally crawling back into my throat. "But if we're going on a road trip, I'm picking the snacks. And Elsa? If we're pretending you're my mistress, try not to faint every time I say something 'Divine.' It's going to ruin the 'Noble' vibe."
"You all leave at midnight," Rufus said, handing me a heavy leather rucksack filled with gold. "Go to the Southern Territories. Hide in the border towns. Build your strength, Arthur. Because the next time the Palace sees you, you shouldn't be running. You should be the one holding the Scroll."
I gripped the strap of my "God-Skin" jacket. The game had just changed. It wasn't about selling snacks anymore; it was about surviving a kingdom that realized I was the most dangerous thing to ever happen to their status quo.
*****
The afternoon was a blur of frantic preparation and hushed conspiracies. The air in the Great Smithy felt heavy, thick with the scent of hot iron and the unspoken fear of the Royal Guard's arrival. Helga and Rufus were hunched over a table, their hands moving rapidly as they drafted secret missives to old contacts in the Southern Territories—people who owed them favors or, more importantly, people who could be bought with the promise of "Divine" miracles.
"Take these," Rufus grunted, shoving a handful of shimmering, crystalline scrolls into my hands. "They are linked to the twin scrolls in my safe. If you write on one, the message appears on mine. Don't use them for small talk, Arthur. They cost more than a manor house."
He then moved to a rack of weapons that looked like they belonged in a legend. He handed Herbert a broadsword that hummed with a low, metallic vibration and Barnaby a pair of daggers so sharp they seemed to cut the very air. For Elsa, he produced a bow carved from silver-wood, supple and glowing with a faint moonlight hue.
"I need to keep the shop running, Arthur," Helga whispered, her eyes darting toward the door. "Send the 'Extract' when you can, but use a dead-drop. No direct contact. The Palace has ears in every shadow."
I wanted to summon a parting gift—a bag of Cheetos to cement our deal—but I checked my phone. [Current Balance: 50 VP]. I was heading into the wilderness; I couldn't risk being "broke" in a world that wanted me dead.
Midnight arrived with a brooding, torrential rain. The sky was a bruised purple-black, and the rhythmic pitter-patter of the downpour against the cobblestones masked the sound of our departure. Behind Helga's shop, a sturdy, black-lacquered carriage waited.
Herbert and Barnaby were already up front, cloaked in heavy, oiled leather to keep out the chill. Barnaby's good eye was fixed on the alley entrance, his jaw set in a hard line. Earlier, I'd forced two gold coins into his hand. He'd tried to refuse, his pride as a messenger bristling, but I'd looked him dead in the eye.
"It's for the kids, Barnaby," I'd said. "They need to eat while you're out playing bodyguard for a genius." He'd finally nodded, his throat working as he tucked the gold away—a sum that would keep his kid safe for months with his sister..
Elsa emerged from the shop, and for a second, I forgot to breathe. She was dressed in a High Elven gown of shimmering emerald silk, her rainbow hair pinned back with silver needles. She looked every bit the haughty noblewoman.
"How do I look, Arthur?" she asked, her voice regal, though her fingers were nervously twisting a hem of her sleeve.
"Like you're about to demand a refund from a King," I sassed. "Perfect."
As I turned to board the carriage, Helga stepped forward. Without warning, she pulled me into a fierce, motherly embrace. She smelled of cinnamon and expensive ink. I stiffened, my "Women-Allergy" screaming in my brain. My vision blurred, and the familiar blue window flickered into existence.
[NOTIFICATION: PURE UNPRETENTIOUS AFFECTION! +100 VP!]
[CURRENT BALANCE: 150 VP]
I wobbled, my knees turning to jelly. I was supposed to faint. My brain was already halfway to the floor. But then I looked at the rain, looked at the fear in Rufus's eyes, and I forced myself to stay upright. I gripped the carriage door, blinking back the black spots in my vision.
Not today, I told myself. I've got business to do. I pulled back, gasping for air, and looked at the two of them. An idea—a brilliant, risky, wonderful idea—hit me.
"Wait," I said, my voice steadying. "Before I go."
I reached into my utility bag and pulled out the phone. To Rufus, Helga, and the boys, I was just tapping at the empty night air, my fingers dancing in a rhythmic "ritual." I navigated to the Snack Menu.
Click. Click. Click.
[Purchase: 3x 'Chester's Choice' Original. -90 VP]
[Remaining Balance: 60 VP]