Chapter 115: Good Looking

Note: There was a small retcon to the end of Chapter 114 for Corbin.

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“So you think you can do it?” Arthur asked. “The wall for the town?”

He was walking a plate of food through the forest with Karra. It would be mostly cold by the time they got it to Lith, but it was better than nothing. The town’s hunter had to eat, and it was time for his first pepped tea. Arthur had all of the stuff in his pack, ready to be brewed.

“I can. The problem is coordinating everyone else.” Karra held up one of her hands as she walked, ticking off parts of the job on her fingers. “First, we have enough Slapstone left to do a two-foot high wall across almost the entire mouth of the valley. Milo did the calculation already. There’ll need to be a few feet of brick wall on either side of where we want the gate to fill the gap when we run out of Slapstone. I can do everything but the brick myself.”

“The brick is different because of the mortar?”

Karra nodded. “Exactly. I’m not especially good at laying it. So you’d use me to move the heavy stuff, and everyone else would put down mortar. Everyone except Rhodia. She’ll be making more bricks.”

“How tall do you think we can get it if we add more brick?”

“No idea. I’ve never really been part of the bricklaying on a project like this, and when I was, there were bricklayers there. Maybe another foot, if we are lucky?”

“Three feet doesn’t seem like much,” Arthur said.

“It isn’t if the monsters can jump or climb. But if they can’t, it means they would either have to come through the gate or bash down the wall. And both those things buy time. I’m strong enough to buy us a little more time, and then… well, by then, I’d hope that we have help.”

“Planning something?” Lith said. “It sounds like you’re getting started on the wall.”

“We are. If worst comes to worst, you need to hightail it out of there and back to the town. We can help you hold them off,” Arthur said.

“Nope. Not doing it.” Lith sent another arrow flying. “Not if I can help it, anyway. If this wall breaks, it’s going to be because of a monster stronger than anything else. The first thing I’d try to do is lead it away. Depending on how stupid the monster is, I might be able to get it going in another direction, and then it wouldn’t be our problem anymore.”

“And if it’s a smart and strong monster?”

“Some monsters can tell where nearby settlements are. Or so I’ve been told.” Lith set down his bow, grabbed the plate from Arthur, and started eating without waiting for utensils. “In which case, I’d harry it the whole way back. If I get really lucky, I can get it to chase me. Or hurt it badly enough to remove it as a threat. Of course, our best bet is just hoping the monsters keep bashing against the rock wall and can’t get out in the first place.”

“Actually, about that. Why don’t we reinforce that wall? It held for however long the dungeon has been there because there was more rock, right? We could pile dirt or Slapstone around it and seal it back up, couldn’t we?”

“Nope,” Lith said. “You had dungeons back in your city, right? With little sheds built around them?”

“We did.”

“Those little sheds were probably made of an inch of enchanted iron. But if a monster wave came out, they’d shatter like glass within several minutes. Natural obstructions are treated a certain way, since nobody put them there. But the system doesn’t allow us to obstruct a dungeon on purpose. Not for very long, anyway,” Lith explained.

“Seems arbitrary,” Arthur said.

“A lot of things do, when it comes to the system.” Karra sat down on a log and stretched her legs out. “Most people think it’s a matter of balance. Dungeons give a lot, so they have to come with risks or a lot of work to balance that out. Letting people put dungeons in metal jars would take away all that risk without any work. So it’s not allowed, except as a minor delaying tactic because the system can’t just ignore that work, either.”

“The worst part of all that is if you try to reinforce that wall, the system is going to view all of it, pre-existing rock included, as demon-made obstructions. You might as well knock the wall down with a pick at that point.”

Lith finished gobbling down his food and picked back up his bow, shooting a few arrows rapid-fire into the hole.

“Whew. That’s two levels today,” Lith said. “It’s petering out, though. There’s only so much I can get from hunting dungeon monsters like this before it slows down like everything else.”

“That’s actually another thing I’m confused about. Why aren’t you running out of arrows? You have to have shot hundreds of them by now, right?” Arthur asked.

“Right. But I have a skill for that.” Lith kicked at the ground near his feet, indicating a good-sized rock with dozens of small chunks missing. “It’s called refilling quiver. It lets me use up a bunch of majicka to make an arrow out of nearby materials. The arrows aren’t very good. And using it for every shot like this means I’m drained on majicka most of the time.”

“Still, it’s amazing,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, it’s very convenient. And it’s saved me a lot of money. There’s balance for you, again. If I couldn’t do that, I’d have to spend much more money on good equipment compared to someone who hunted with a spear. I say the majicka cost is a good trade. It all balances out in the end, more or less.”

Arthur and Karra spent a little while longer keeping Lith company until he very politely asked them to leave, claiming they were upsetting his focus. They headed back to town, finding everyone still gathered around Rhodia’s huge fireplace, working through the excess of fish and meat Arthur had cooked that night.

“Arthur! I want more tea.” Lily held up her glass.

“You could have made a new cup yourself!”

“No, I couldn’t.” Lily made big eyes at Arthur, trying her best to look cute and pathetic. “I’m a poor little owl and I’m cold. I need magic tea that makes me warmer.”

“Ugh,” Arthur said. “Fine, you win. One second.”

Arthur ended up making everyone else tea as well. In addition to the effects they asked for, he tried to infuse every single drink with some stress-reducing and anxiety-easing effects. Everyone looked like they needed it, whether they were hiding it or not. Of course, the system wouldn’t let the tea work unless they also wanted that, preventing him from using the tea as a secret beneficial mind control. But he figured enough of them probably wanted a way to relax that he didn’t have to ruin the mood by mentioning it.

After a while, people started heading to bed. Lily had, at some point, come to terms with her own child-like constitution and accepted the fact that trying to stay up late usually just meant the additional indignity of being carried off to bed like a cuddly backpack. Arthur knew he was too amped up to sleep just yet, and lingered behind. Mizu did too, patting the log next to her when Arthur finally finished fiddling with his kitchen things.

“Here. Sit,” Mizu said. “I saved you some tea.”

Arthur realized he had actually neglected to make himself any. Mizu had set aside a cup near the fire earlier, which meant it was still very warm if not quite piping hot.

“Thanks for that.” Arthur took a sip, glad it wasn’t a pepped tea like the ones he had made for the group in the communal pot. It was light and warm, just what he needed right now. “This helps.”

“Yes.” Mizu looped her arm through Arthur’s as she sat a bit closer. “You’ve been very busy being Mayor Arthur the last few days. I’ve hardly seen you.”

“Sorry about that,” Arthur apologized.

Mizu shook her head.

“It’s okay. We aren’t like that. I’m just glad to get some time now.” She sat still for a few moments, looking at the fire. “Are you doing okay? I’m really asking. Don’t just say yes.”

Arthur thought about that question for a little while.

As mayor, he was trying to be strong and helpful. To look strong and helpful. It was like the expansion, where everyone put on a brave face despite the uncertainty. And his first reaction to someone, even Mizu, trying to pierce his projected confidence was a speck of hostility. To clam up and say that everything was fine.

Arthur punched that speck of hostility and shoved it down. It would starve eventually, and it had no place here.

“I’m… fine-ish. Not great.” Arthur leaned into Mizu a little more. “I want to just solve this problem. Before, there was always Karbo, or Itela, or someone. They’d just sweep in and hit whatever issue with a blessing or a sledgehammer, and it would go away. Tea isn’t so good for that.”

“I don’t know,” Mizu said. “It’s pretty good for bug bites.”

“Yeah. That’s true. But it’s not so good for rampaging monsters.”

“Arthur, you probably already know this, but you aren’t here alone. It’s all of our problem. Nobody expects you to deal with it yourself.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I know that. But I still feel like, you know, I’m the mayor. And I have responsibilities to be a good one, even if you all elected me as a joke.”

Mizu reached over and pinched him, hard.

“Ow!” Arthur reached his free arm over and rubbed his rib cage where she had gone aggro-crab on him. “Gods, Mizu. What was that about?”

“It was about you saying you got elected as a joke, Arthur Teamaster. That’s not true, and you know it. We elected you because you are the right choice for it. Do you think it’s a joke to me or Lily?”

“Well, no, but…”

“No but. It’s not a joke to anyone else, either, Nobody helps more people than you, Arthur. Nobody cares more. And unlike some leaders, you have no problem asking for help when you can’t do something. We had a whole meeting about it when you weren’t here, Arthur.” Mizu sighed in frustration. “Dumb Earthling. You’re lucky you look so good… The point is that everyone trusts you, Arthur. Everyone. Even Karra and Skal, and they hardly know you. And you seem to think that means everyone will blame you if things go wrong, when it’s the other way around.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because everyone knows you’re doing everything you can. Even if it’s just making sure we all have relaxing tea to drink.”

Arthur liked a lot of things about Mizu, but probably the best part was this. Every now and again, she’d sit him down, tell him he was doing something dumb, and then tell him how to do it better without him ever getting a sense she liked him any less. It struck him how seldom he remembered to return that favor.

“What about you? What’s your not-fake version of how you are doing?”

It took her a minute to answer, but eventually, she worked up the words she wanted.

“I’m afraid,” Mizu said. “It’s the same as you. I just make good water. And good water doesn’t do much to stop a dangerous dungeon monster. I’m scared of what might happen.”

Arthur wanted to tell her not to be afraid, but he wasn’t sure she was wrong to feel the way she did.

“Anything I can do?” Arthur asked.

Mizu squeezed his arm a little closer.

“Just this. This is plenty.”

“You got it.”

Arthur and Mizu stared at the fire as the flames slowly died down, leaving nothing but hot charcoal and ash in the bowl.

“Mizu?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Am I really what you said? Good-looking enough that it doesn’t matter that I’m dumb?”

“Yes.” Arthur could feel her smiling on his shoulder. “Being a leader looks very handsome on you. You aren’t really that dumb, either.”