Balevar Kingdom, Merryhall Town
Merryhall Town was the kind of "starter village" every RPG player instantly recognized. Despite being called a town, it barely had a few dozen residents, only one street worth mentioning, and enough daily happenings to fill maybe half a gossip circle—so everyone simply recycled the same three topics forever.
Just outside the town stretched a beautiful meadow, the kind that fantasy writers adored. And because fantasy demanded it, tall grass must always be accompanied by dramatic wind… which must then dramatically blow toward a graceful young maiden who delicately brushes her hair aside while gazing into the horizon—
"ACHOOOO! FUUUCK!"
Unfortunately, this maiden was Ivy.
Her hair slapped her face like an angry mop, slapped her eyes shut, and poked her nose every two seconds.
"ACHOO!—damn it—ACHOO! Why won't this stupid wind ever stop!?"
She sneezed, cursed, sneezed, cursed again, and kept foraging through the grass searching for herbs.
---
Merryhall Street
Meanwhile, on the town main street…
A snot-nosed kid stared up at a tree where Kovalski, elf extraordinaire (allegedly), clung awkwardly to a branch.
"Mister, are you sure you're an elf? In the storybooks, elves climb trees really well."
"Well, those are hillbilly elves, kid!" Kovalski grunted, straining as he reached for the kitten stuck on a thinner branch. "The kind that marries their cousins. I, on the other hand, am a city elf. I live in a high-rise condo… with plenty of mistresses… Aaaand—GOTCHA!"
He snatched the kitten triumphantly.
Then the branch under him cracked.
CRACK.
"FUCK! NOT AGAIN—" THUMP.
Kovalski plunged into a bush, face-first. Scraped, bruised, dignity obliterated. The kitten, of course, landed gracefully and trotted straight to its owner.
"Awwww, kitty! You're safe! Thank you so much, Mr. Elf! Here's your reward!"
The kid handed over his pocket money.
"Yeah, yeah… try not to lose it again tomorrow," Kovalski muttered, dusting himself off.
He walked away—
Only to immediately encounter another crying child.
"WAAAAAAAHHH!"
"…Okay, what are you missing this time? Cat? Dog? Balloon?"
"Sniff… sniff… M-my home is gone…"
Kovalski stared into the void.
"…Sigh."
---
Merryhall Blacksmith
CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.
Inside a smoke-filled stone forge, a muscular dwarf hammered a glowing blade with reverence. Sparks scattered like fireflies.
"Every metal has a soul," the dwarf intoned solemnly. "You must listen carefully to its voice."
"I understand, Master…" replied Captain Irving, seated stiffly in the shadows.
"And with each strike… the blacksmith must pour his heart into the metal."
"I understand, Master…"
The dwarf plunged the blade into water—STEAM exploded upward.
"Only when a smith and their metal truly commune can a true weapon be born."
He lifted the blade. It looked like… a blade. Perfectly normal.
"I understand, Mast—"
"IF YOU UNDERSTAND THAT," the dwarf exploded, pointing at an entire pile of warped, twisted, absolutely horrifying rejects, "THEN WHY THE HELL DO YOU KEEP MAKING THESE ABOMINATIONS!?"
Irving stepped into the light, revealing bruises on his face—trophies of "training."
"I'm sorry, Master…"
"GO MELT THEM ALL AND START OVER! IF I CATCH YOU RESTING I'LL BREAK YOUR NOSE AGAIN!"
"Yes, Master…"
---
Merryhall Tavern
"KYAAAAA! HONEY, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!?"
A woman screamed as her husband collapsed on the tavern floor, foaming at the mouth.
"W-what happened!?" the tavern owner shouted, rushing over.
"I-I don't know! We were eating… he said the salad was delicious… and then his voice changed—like he was speaking in several voices at once! And in some… weird language!"
The man twitched violently, muttering Latin words as foam dripped down his chin.
"SOMEBODY CALL A HEALER!"
Meanwhile, unnoticed in the chaos, Bella slipped out of the kitchen.
"KYAAAAA! HONEY, WHY ARE YOU LEVITATING!?"
Bella quietly exited through the back door without turning around.
---
A Farm Outside Merryhall
Night fell over the countryside. In a rented shed beside a cow barn, Ivy pushed aside a cloth curtain.
"I'm home…" she groaned.
"Welcome home," Bella and Kovalski chimed.
Inside, Bella sat atop stacked crates, Kovalski sprawled across a hay bed with swollen feet soaking in a bucket, and Captain Irving brooded silently in the corner.
"You're home early, Bella," Ivy said, tossing her gear down.
"Yeah… one customer got possessed after eating my salad."
"You used demonic ingredients?"
"It tasted great when I tried it. Apparently consuming a whole bowl is… transcending."
Ivy groaned and collapsed onto a crate beside her. "Bella, drink please? I'm dying."
"Sure."
Bella grabbed an empty mug, reached through a hole in the wall, felt around—
"…Ah, found it."
MOOOOOOO.
She yanked a cow teat enthusiastically.
"Make sure it's Betsy this time. Not Anthony," Ivy warned.
Bella handed over the filled mug.
"Bless you," Ivy said, gulping it down. "Achoo! Ugh…"
"You did the herb quest again?" Bella asked, handing her a handkerchief.
"Snort—yeah. The wind there hates me."
Ivy emptied her pouch of coins onto the table. The group's pathetic savings glimmered sadly.
Kovalski groaned. "So how much more do we need to travel?"
"A lot," Ivy said flatly. "You need to work more, Kovalski."
"Ugh, I can't deal with those critters anymore."
"The cats?"
"No. The children. If your pet runs away every day, maybe it hates you."
"You don't get to complain," Bella snapped. "We'd still have money if you didn't insist on separate inn rooms."
"Excuse me, at least I don't cause our food expenses to explode."
They glared at one another.
"Enough," Ivy sighed. "Arguing won't fix anything."
"Says the one who caused half of this," the other two muttered.
In truth:
Kovalski refuses to share rooms for perverted reason.
Bella eats like a black hole.
Ivy and Irving abuse their gold pocket and subspace bag by keep buying useless trinkets they think will sell in Murica.
They are being spendful because they assumed adventurer quests everywhere paid as well as in Ravendawn.
They didn't know about one vital RPG rule:
The further from the Final Boss territory (Murica), the worse the quest rewards.
Which was how they ended up broke in a beginner town.
"Look," Ivy tried again. "We just need to be like Captain—focus on earning money. Right, Captain?"
Irving didn't respond.
"…Captain? Why are you taking out the C-4?"
"Hehehe… furnace explosions happen all the time…" Irving murmured, shaping a brick of C-4. "If the blast isn't too big… no one will know it wasn't an accident… hehehe…"
"Ivy," Bella whispered without moving, "we need to leave this town."
"We really do," Ivy muttered.
---
Ravendawn, Gonetanamo Bay
Gonetanamo Bay, the Murican–Ravendawn joint prison, was the ideal place for BICH interrogations. Murica couldn't do them on home soil—the screaming lured demonic beasts, and the nearby demon towns would file noise complaints unless they were allowed to join in. It was messy.
Inside an observation room, Janet watched a prisoner strapped to a chair in the adjoining chamber. One-handed Alan Ridgewood wheezed through a bloody mouth, hood tilted, body trembling. She's on the phone.
"Well, that was quick," Megan says over the line. "Only a couple days? Aren't assassins supposed to be trained with torture?"
"Well, the old man handled this interrogation personally."
"Ah. He needed to vent. So—is he the ship bomber?"
"Nope. His guild was just hired for surveillance. To stop us from getting too close."
"By who?"
"A merchant named Marco. Specializes in weapons, armor, mercenaries."
"Huh. And bombing Murica–Dwargonia diplomacy helps him how? If we go to war, we won't buy his stuff anyway."
"Yeah. Our friend here doesn't know that either."
"So where's Marco now?"
"Where his customers are: Vandoria."
"I see. Guess I know where I'm going next."
"Where are you now anyway?"
---
Dawn Castle, Dining Room
Megan is in a gorgeous princess gown, glittering jewelry, full formal regalia. Across from her sits Luxius, blissfully smiling at her while an extravagant dinner lies untouched. Behind him hangs a family portrait—Luxius as a boy, his father King Luxtor… and a mother who looks suspiciously like Megan, minus the short hair and demon horn.
"I'm… having dinner in a tavern," Megan lied flatly.
"Kuku, really? You know I still have drones in Dawn, right?"
"…You're spying on me?" Megan looks at the window
"Oh relax. I'm just curious where you and Mama's Boy will end up."
"Nothing will 'end up' anywhere! It's just dinner!"
"Aww, but you look so cute in that dress."
"Shut up, Janet," Megan hissed, lifting her middle finger at the nearest window in the general direction of the drone.
Janet cackled. "Kukuku—oh, gotta go. The old man's back."
Call ended.
---
Ravendawn, Gonetanamo Bay
Mo' entered the interrogation room, wiping his hands.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Old bladder, you know."
Alan trembled violently.
"Fwease… vust gill me…"
"What was that?" Mo asked gently.
"Sus… vill… me…"
"Just kill me?" Mo picked up two steel rods. "Oh, I'm sorry. Hard to talk without teeth, I guess. Can't risk you hurting yourself."
He inspects both rods carefully, then—
Alan's breathing hitched.
STAB.
"AAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH—why…?"
"Oh, I believe everything you told me," Mo said warmly, attaching clamps to the rods. "I never said I'd stop afterward."
He flipped a switch.
Alan's screams echoed through the facility as sparks danced and lights flickered from unstable voltage.
---
Dwargonia, Moth Pole Prison
The only way in or out of Moth Pole Prison is via train. Usually it carries prisoners and ore. Today, a heavily armed military train rumbles through the snowy mountains. Inside sat Grand Marshal Dwordoug Axebreaker, highest-ranking general and Council member.
SLAM.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE CAN'T REACH OUR INFORMANTS!?"
The terrified lieutenant saluted stiffly.
"I-I'm sorry, sir! Our network outside Dwargonia has vanished! We sent agents but… there's no trace! No contact. No bodies. Nothing."
"How!? We stormed the Murican embassy because of THEIR intel! And now it just disappears!?"
The lieutenant bowed repeatedly. "We're still investigating—"
"Dismissed."
The officer fled.
Dwordoug rubbed his temples. Someone's playing us. But why? To pit us against the demons? And I'm the one they used? Tch… think! Axebreaker!
---
The train reached the station. A panicked prison staff greeted him.
"G-Grand Marshal! Welcome to Moth Pole!"
"Where's Director Cinderclaws?"
"Ah—he's, uh, dealing with an… unforeseen event. He'll be with you shortly."
"WHAT UNFORESEEN EVENT!?"
"Hieee—"
Before the dwarf could answer, a strange chorus erupted from below.
Dwordoug stepped to the edge of the station and looked down into the colossal open-pit mine.
Hundreds of prisoners in green uniforms stood united before the main tower, holding signs and chanting:
"GREEN LIFE MATTERS!
GREEN LIFE MATTERS!
GREEN LIFE MATTERS!"
Some held handmade signs.
"What in the hell is this!? A prison riot!?"
"No sir!" the staff squeaked. "Just the union holding a strike…"
"…What the hell is a union!?"