Riloth the 19th the 58th

That morning I woke up already in tears.

How many times has Trish died? How many nights have I been lying in the baths, fighting golems, incapacitated, or drowning my despair in drink while my friend was being dragged away and killed?

Should I have sought her out? Could I have known?

I knew why I hadn’t. Why I’d spent so much time alone, only speaking to strangers and merchants. Why I never went to them for help, no matter how hard things got.

I didn't want to see them. I can’t bear to see them. On some level, I felt that if I don't interact with my friends, I can pretend that this was some game. And they are my friends, I see that now as well, despite my best efforts. Speaking to them... it is too hard. Maybe for a week, I could pretend. Pretend that they were not stuck. Pretend them to be people with potential and not fleeting wisps that won’t last through the day.

In my interactions with the urchins, I see that I started to view them as something lesser, less than... me. In the way I talk over them to get to what I need, dismissing their questions and concerns. Why answer? Why cater to them when they won’t remember? Why not just take what I need and be gone. I’m not doing any lasting harm. At least that’s what I am starting to think.

And then there was Gerald, that nameless knight, the bandits. I killed them all and thought little of it the day after. Why cry over a dead man when he wasn't dead any more? Briefly, I let Levar get close, but I have since distanced myself from him when the reality of the situation sunk in. I can not continue down that road. I need to be better. These are people.

Sitting in my room, writing, planning, and only interacting with the urchins and Twiggy, it is easy to see this as a game I have to beat. This is not a game. All the people in this town are trapped. Who knows how many others? My friends are trapped. Doomed to relive these days forever, and I am tortured to watch them. I fear that if I interact with them, they too will fall to something lesser in my eyes. Transactions with strangers are one thing, I can bear to repeat those. But Trish? How many times can I tread the same roads of conversation before everyone is nothing more than a parrot in your eyes, not a person? How many times can Daulf teach me the same nugget of wisdom before I start to see him as a crazy old man? And Roland? Roland already tries my patience. That one day with Levar was painful enough. I can not do that with my friends.

I have to do better. I can not see my friends, that would be too painful, but I can do better for others. I must not let myself think these people are less than me. To think that is to become something less myself. Something evil.

I can train, and try harder. I might be alone but...

Alone.

I fixated on the word.

I can't do this alone, but maybe I’m not.

That last day I'd had you, I'd seen an anomaly in the report. There might be someone else here. Someone who could possibly help.

Maybe.

No. Hopefully. I need to cling to hope.

If there is someone here, how do I find them? Where even to begin? What do I know? They went to the Dragon's Den Hotel at least once. That's it, but even that I don’t know for certain. It’s still possible my actions caused someone's route to change to the hotel, but unlikely. It’s also possible that their actions caused someone's route to diverge to the hotel as well.

Now that I was fixated on a problem, the despair started to ebb, to be replaced with purpose once more. I got dressed for travel and headed down to the Parlor floor. I had missed my window to acquire funds, but I had an idea.

On the way out of the Parlor I stopped at Simon's counter. Planning to leave a note for Trish to warn her, I ripped a piece of paper out of fake-spellbook. As soon as I did so, the paper and the book disintegrated into a cloud of black dust that in turn quickly faded.

Oops. I forgot about that.

Attempting to look dignified—difficult enough with the effects of the dwarven ale-induced hangover—I asked Simon, "Could I trouble you for a piece of paper and something to write with?"

"Of course, Mage Theral," he said, handing me both.

I wrote a note to Trish.

Trish,

Don't ask how I know, but there are five men coming to the Parlor tonight from Lakeside. I think they might be looking for you, like the night we met. They will arrive tonight after ten.

Be safe,

Tal

I folded the note and handed it to Simon with instructions to get it into Trish's hands as quickly as possible.

That morning in my room, while trying to recall details about my potential mysterious reset companion, I had remembered something else. Back when I had been staking out the market square from my room, I had seen the men, who would later murder Trish, arrive. I didn't know for certain if they were from Lakeside or not, but their dress and Trish's past both suggested that they were.

On receiving the note, Simon waited expectantly before eventually saying, "As always, I am delighted to serve."

He spoke in his overly professional tone that I had started to identify as his irritated voice.

Why is he mad now? He'd been so eager for the previous resets.

I didn't have time to dwell on it, so I thanked him and headed to Levar's.

He was behind the counter and welcomed me as I entered, "Greetings Mage Theral, how can I help you today?"

I told my prepared story, "Good morning, I was hoping you would be able to help me. I need a potion of clarity and of forgone sleep, but am temporarily without funds. I will be able to pay you the fair market value tomorrow, and am I willing to leave my sword here as collateral." I had originally thought to leave my fake-spellbook as collateral, but that was gone.

Levar laughed good-naturedly at my proposal and smiled, "I’m sorry, but a sword is hardly comparable to the value of what you ask."

Expecting this response, I answered, "Oh, I’m sorry, I misspoke, I will be leaving my ensouled sword."

At that, Levar laughed harder, "Well, then by all means let’s see this ensouled artifact you are willing to leave here for a comparable pittance."

I removed my scabbard and belt together and handed them to Levar. As he examined the rapier, his expression turned serious and then shocked.

"You would really leave this with me for the day?"

"Of course, you’re an honorable alchemist. I trust you." Which was true. I didn’t feel the need to mention that he could steal, destroy, or even kill me for it, and it wouldn’t really matter.

"I have so many questions, do you have time?" he asked, a hunger for knowledge clear on his face.

"I’ll have all the time in the world for you tomorrow when I pick it up."

He gave me the potions and I headed off to camp outside the Dragon’s Den from Gill’s perch. I won’t bore you with the details. I spent the whole day watching for anything amiss, but didn’t spot a thing. Once it became dark, I headed back to the Parlor to rest, planning to return to the rooftop for the next few resets until the mysterious stranger showed up.

Inside the Parlor, none of the staff were anywhere to be seen. I wanted to find Simon and confirm that he got the note to Trish, but I couldn’t find him anywhere on the floor. That was strange. I couldn’t recall a time—in or out of the resets—where Simon was not waiting on my every whim. Slipping behind the counter, I walked into the staff section of the Parlor. A long hallway behind the desk led to the kitchen and baths. As I walked down the corridor, I heard a commotion. I continued, and eventually made out voices in the noise.

"Where are they coming from?" one voice shouted, which I thought was Simon.

"They are everywhere!" screamed another.

"Where is the Master? Ring the bell!" a third voice pleaded.

"No, we cannot let him know," Simon commanded.

Opening the door to the kitchen revealed chaos. Rats covered the room. Every surface had groups of the creatures rooting atop them. They rummaged through the baskets and containers of food as the staff beat at them with anything they had on hand. The rats seemed wholly unconcerned by these inept attempts to hinder their foraging.

Upon seeing me enter, Simon exclaimed, "Mage Theral! Help us!"

With my Will still full from a day of inaction, I formed the construct for Lightning Bolt in my mind and cast it at the rats rummaging through the food. The crack of the lightning was deafening in the enclosed room with its stone walls. My spell hit all four rats in the basket at which I’d aimed, and all hell broke loose.

Suddenly, where there had been dozens of rats, hundreds appeared.

Pack rats. Flood!

I’d seen one kill a stray cat as a boy, but never had I witnessed such a swarm of the primal creatures. They popped into existence, seemingly randomly. No longer content to ignore this human, they began to close in on me. I looked around to find that the Parlor staff had fled at my arrival. Alone, I sent Lightning Bolts into the pack as quickly as I could form them; each one slaying rats while driving the others into further frenzy.

I backed toward the hallway that led to the kitchen as I retreated before the advance of the pack-turned-horde of rats. They continued their approach, and I couldn’t stop them all with lighting alone. I cast Gust in the form I had used—with limited success—against Tilavo. But instead of targeting a rat with the spell—which would fly across the room, taking the effect with it—I focused on the space before me. The shape of the spell strained against my mind as I forced it to appear without a target, and I felt a flood of Will leave me, but despite the pain, the spell appeared. The rats—and most of the contents of the kitchen—flew back, crashing into the walls and tables of the kitchen. Writhing furry bodies hit the wall, falling to the ground dead, but others disappeared midair.

Well, that shouldn’t have worked. Maybe my concept of should have and ought to needs some revision.

With their path blocked by the wind, the remaining rats began to probe for another way to get to me. Any that managed to bypass the wind received a kick for their efforts. Oddly, some would occasionally run around the room and disappear. Maintaining my Gust, I picked up a discarded broom and fended them off until the disappearing rats thinned their numbers, leaving only the bodies of two dozen rats in various places around the kitchen.

When the last rat had vanished, I released my spell. With the howl of the Gust gone, I could hear the approach of heavy footsteps and Simon’s voice, "There are hundreds! Just through here!"

Simon entered the room, followed by my two security escorts and other Parlor security staff I didn’t recognize.

Upon entering the room and seeing the damage—mostly caused by me—the tall guard from my escort turned to Simon and asked, "Hundreds you say?"

Sensing the opportunity to give Simon a tiny bit of payback for his slights, I said, "Simon, I’d hardly call a dozen rats hundreds. It’s okay, fear can rattle anyone’s judgment."

At the word judgment, there were three tiny poof sounds followed by three wet thuds as three more rats materialized in mid-air and crashed into the wall.

"Well, I’ll just leave this to you then. I have to go clean up. Please, bring some food from"—I paused, looking around the mess—"not here, to my room later tonight." I told Simon as I squeezed past him out the door towards the baths, a smile wide on my face as I walked away.

Once clear of the kitchen, I had a moment to ponder the event.

How did this happen today? I know I’d seen Simon at his station at this time on other resets. Had this rat infestation happened before? I hope not. How many meals have I eaten prepared on that rat strewn counter?

Could this be the work of the stranger? Or were these pack rats somehow immune to the resets as well?

Neither seemed likely, but I hoped at least one was the case.

I spent half an hour in the baths, thinking over a plan for the next few days. On the way back to my room, I checked the gaming floor to see if Trish heeded my warning. I couldn't find her, so either she did, or she wore a much better disguise. Satisfied, I returned to my room to find an apple and some bread with butter. Clearly, Simon had gone above and beyond for me.

Riloth the 19th the 59-64th

The next morning I woke up, dressed in my travel clothes—sword included—and headed downstairs. On my way, I wondered why I’d never bought myself a set of leather clothes like Roland and Trish wore. More importantly, why hadn’t they recommended I buy some? Leather pants would have made those rats far less of a threat.

But... would that be worth all the sweating?

After winning my pile of gold, of which I only withdrew a portion of, I stopped to speak with Simon on the way out. I handed him a prepared note for Trish and instructed him to deliver it.

Before leaving, I said, "You might want to keep an eye out for pack rats, I saw one in the halls upstairs, and when I shooed it away a dozen appeared."

Simon’s expression became set in what could best be described as a war face. As if he was a general receiving reports of an enemy incursion on his domain.

"Thank you for the warning Mage Theral, I will take care of that immediately," he said, and ran off to, I don’t know, rally his bannerman?

"Don’t forget to deliver my note!" I shouted after him.

In response, he lifted the paper in the air as he ran.

The rest of the day was uneventful. I sat on the roof across from the Dragon’s Den and waited, bored. After Simon had left, I took a new novel from behind the counter and was reading it as I watched the door through the corner of my eye. Nothing seemed different from the day before.

I repeated the day five more times. Each day nothing changed except for the book I read. The warning to Simon seemed sufficient to keep the rats from infesting the Parlor. I got through Siren Spell, The Red Pirate of Love, The Chieftain of Desire, Blessed by Her, The Sorceress Seductress, and The Golem’s Heart. The last one grossly mischaracterized—from my experience—a golem’s capacity for love.