Melia smiled as she pranced around the abbey under [Stealth]. Not because she specifically needed to avoid anybody, but it was easier to mind her own business and let everyone else do their thing. Headmaster Valoran had returned (reluctantly) to the Academy and had left instructions for an entire army of scholars to carry on his work. The small pavilion adjacent to the [Planters] had transformed from a gazebo to an entire operation. Walls were erected along the four sides, creating a sturdy building, into which large, clear windows had been set to provide ample opportunity to study the subjects outside from the comfort of indoors.
Indeed, inside, the [Scholars] and [Mages] had spared no expense in making their research station comfortable. But not for anybody who actually wanted to relax. Tools of all sorts and equipment from every corner of the kingdom had been brought in to help them unravel Melia’s mysteries, littering the walls and covering up all the furniture. Four small stools sat around two long, narrow tables so burdened by books and parchment that there was hardly an inch of free space to be seen. Melia nearly revealed herself by jumping into a nightstand holding a precarious stack of scrolls and something resembling an orrery. She wasn’t familiar with any of the planets it featured, and she was sorely tempted to spin it, but that would have gotten her caught, too.
Over at the [Planters], the two [Moai], Bob and Ferdinand, were facing away from each other. Curious, Melia headed over. Two small boys were chatting loudly, each sitting on opposite sides of their respective stone heads, having to yell over the monolith to be heard. Several brothers working in the fields occasionally gave them fond smiles, but otherwise left the children alone.
“Whatcha doin’?” Melia asked, walking up to one of the boys. She [Unstealthed] earlier so she wouldn’t frighten the child, and he waved energetically as she approached. Melia loved kids, especially the ones she’d met so far in this world. Not only were they much easier to talk to, as a gnome, they also didn’t react nearly as strangely to her presence as adults did. Melia chalked it up to the innocence of youth and hoped they wouldn’t change.
“Nuthin,” the boy answered vaguely. It wasn’t the sort of non-answer a kid trying to hide something would give; rather, he and his friend were probably simply bored and didn’t consider “sitting around and talking” an actual activity. Melia didn’t think she’d get any more information on that front, so she asked the real question, searching for hard-hitting truths.
“Why are the [Moai] facing away from each other?”
The boy glanced down at her as if she were dumb and gave her a pitying smile.
“Because Bob and Ferdinand aren’t talking right now.”
Melia blinked. She looked up at the passive, unmoving face of…Bob? Bob was the one with the giant sun hat, yes? Bob was staring out to the west (as stoic heads do), while Ferdinand was facing east, toward the abbey. Of course, they were simply following their programming to face the closest person, which happened to be the boys, and Melia had a hunch they were doing it on purpose.
“I see!” She chirped brightly, playing along. “Why aren’t they talking?”
“Because Ferdinand said Bob’s hat is silly.”
Again, Melia stared up at the giant head. He was wearing a giant straw hat, which was rather silly, she had to admit.
“It is kind of silly, isn’t it?” Melia asked. The boy considered her seriously before eventually nodding.
“Yeah, but then he said it was dumb.”
“Ah,” Melia nodded sagely. Was this what passed for playing pretend in this world? She couldn’t judge.
“Well, right,” she nodded to the boy…and for good measure, walked up to Bob and petted the stone on the nose. “Good luck, buddy. I’m sure you’ll be back to being friends in no time.”
The [Moai], of course, said nothing.
At least the kids had a good outlet for their energies, which was probably why the brothers let them play with the huge stone heads in the first place. Content that her creations were doing a little bit of good in this world, Melia walked around the abbey toward the [Greenhouse]. The glass doors slid open automatically as she approached and she was hit with a blast of cool air.
Good! The architect in charge of planting must have discovered the climate controls! That was very good. With these, workers would be able to raise exotic plants more effectively. Melia wondered if any pineapples had grown…or if they had even planted any. But, as soon as she entered, of course the first thing she noticed was Celestara’s tree.
The magic of the [Greenhouse] was letting days do for years in the early growth of the trees, and Melia could barely recognize the saplings she helped plant the other day. Instead of spindly little sticks, they’d grown into fine specimens of their species, no doubt cultivated expertly by the brothers’ diligent care. [Celestara’s Avocado Tree] was no exception.
While most of the trees that Melia could see were only in the flowering stage and hadn’t borne any fruit, Celestara’s tree had a single, golden avocado hanging from a perfectly tended branch. Melia didn’t know how big avocados were supposed to get normally, let alone magical gold avocados in a fantasy world, so she assumed it wasn’t ripe or ready to be picked. And even if it was, she wasn’t foolish enough to do so herself, even though she really wanted to be there when whoever was in charge of monitoring it decided it was ready.
Most of the workers inside the [Greenhouse] were pruning leaves and carrying buckets of water back and forth. Melia frowned. She really needed to get to work on renovating the abbey’s well. Maybe she would do that later, but she had a single, more important task to take care of first. Managing her new den.
Melia trekked all the way out to the border of the forest, where the evidence of her not-so-impressive landing had crushed all the trees. She frowned, glared at the giant mess, and…rubbed her arms threateningly, since she didn’t have any sleeves to roll up.
First things first, all that debris had to go. Starting with the crushed trees. Most were pulverized beyond usefulness, though a fraction of the felled wood was recognized by the system as usable [Lumber]. Melia hoovered up the intact logs first, sorting them into a [Logging Satchel]. For the pulp of leaves and decomposing roughage, she put them into a spare space to be later processed into [Fertilizer]. Maybe she could give it to Y’cennia as extra [Alchemy] practice?
No, that felt like pawning off her dirty work.
For the splintered wood and broken branches, Melia sectioned them to be dried and cured for later use as firewood or for turning into charcoal. Soon, she’d like to get back into smithing, and one could never have too much fuel.
After a surprisingly short time, considering the large area she cleared, Melia was left with a sizable dirt field. Nobody would ever know the forest used to reach out all this way…if they didn’t look at it from above. Unwilling to give anybody that chance, Melia brought out some [Masonry] tools.
Usually, [Masons] did work around player housing, but in real life, they also had a surprisingly deep kit for general construction. Melia selected a long, flat piece of metal connected on both ends by a chain. It resembled a plow, and even though Melia wasn’t sure this thing was a real tool back on her last world, it worked perfectly fine in this one. The surface area of the head wasn’t very big…meant to be pulled by normal men or a horse, not a disguised dragon. After another hour or so, Melia had the field leveled.
Strangely, this world had concrete. Or, at least, an [Alchemical] material very similar to the stuff. [Liquid Rock], it was called, and it was a very unusual substance indeed. It looked like a chocolate smoothie when mixed and it poured like water, but after several hours, it dried into a solid rock. The color of the slurry changed depending on what materials went into crafting it, and as Melia used more [Abyssal Stone], it came out pitch black. Fortunately, it also inherited the stone’s toughness, so it shouldn’t shatter underneath her real body when she eventually goes to lie down.
…hopefully. So long as she hadn’t been gaining too much weight. Those [Crimson Cattle] might add up.
Now, having a clean, clearly defined sleeping space was a step in the right direction, but no den was complete without decoration. But that begged the question: what was fitting for a dragon’s den?
This wasn’t some dad-cave with an 80-inch flatscreen tv to watch football on, and Ebonvale didn’t have cable television anyway. Still, she needed decorations fitting for a dragon.
A lightbulb went off, Melia’s eyes lit up with inspiration, and she snapped her fingers. She knew exactly what to put down!
First: bones.
Usually, a dragon’s den would be littered with the bleached skeletons of ill-fated heroes looking to conquer her or brigands looking to steal her loot. Melia didn’t have any human skeletons (thankfully, she shuddered), but she did have something potentially more impressive. One of the more niche professions in the game was [Archaeology]. Mostly, it was created for people (like her) who had too much time on their hands and wanted to dig deeper into the world’s lore. In the game, she would go on “surveys” and dig up fossils, which then got turned in for trinkets and goodies.
In real life, Melia had real, actual skeletons in her closet. Rather, inventory. She pulled out an intact [King Tyrant Skull], a fantasy T. rex, and placed it on the ground. It towered over her, at least 10 feet tall, its hollow eye sockets staring at her menacingly, long after its anger (and life) was extinguished.
Next to her real body, it would make a quaint trinket.
Okay, so bones of my enemies was taken care of. Obviously, dragons had an eye for fine art. Melia rooted through her inventory, searching for various paintings, statues, and busts of famous figures. She selected several, ignoring the fact that one or two were made by her, and scattered them around the edges. Seeing as there were no walls, she couldn’t hang the paintings up, but she had a plan for that later.
Bones, check. Fine art, check. Next…weapons and armor? Every good dragon lair needed a suspiciously intact set of armor conveniently lying around just in case the heroes won, so they could scurry away with phat loot. At first, Melia wanted to pull out something that wouldn’t be linked back to her, but everything she had lingering in her inventory was considered “junk items,” grey vendor trash. As such, it didn’t look half as cool as she thought it might when she dumped them on the ground. Melia frowned as she kicked an old, battered helmet, watching it cave in even further. For this, she would make an exception.
She obviously couldn’t leave her best gear sitting out in the elements (which, again, wouldn’t be a problem for too much longer). But that didn’t mean she was empty-handed. She had made many, many, many sets of armor over the years while leveling. Most she either sold on the auction house or saved for [Disenchanting]. She had enough green and blue armor left over that never made it to the dust pile, and even a few purple sets. Deciding that a worthy set of armor for a dragon of her caliber was in the 8-9 hundred range, Melia settled on four full sets of heavy plate, two chainmail sets, three cloth sets, a leather set, and an assortment of individual items like helmets, a chest piece, or boots. For the full sets, she left those on armor stands, but the loose odds and ends would need to be artfully buried around the room in her next step.
What was the number one thing people thought of when they heard the word dragon?
Well, besides “death, destruction, or burning agony,” which, to be fair, were valid.
But other than that: gold.
And Melia was no second-rate dragon! She had plenty of gold!
And not just the stuff sitting in her bank. This was, to steal a term from the dwarves, hoarding gold. Gold that served no practical purpose other than to look very pretty and make everybody else jealous.
Dragons, supposedly, liked to eat the dwarves and then sleep on their ill-gained piles of riches, but Melia could skip that part. But that didn't mean she didn’t have a little problem,
Melia was not a small dragon. Therefore, to make a pile of gold big enough for her to sleep on would require a ton of coins. As loath as she was to do it, Melia decided she needed some, dare she say it, filler. She started with a base of 10 million copper coins.
…her vault, which housed the majority of her wealth, had over two billion gold coins. There was a hundred copper to a silver, and a hundred silver to a gold, so Melia could waste a few.
It took her two full hours to spread the wealth in artful piles around her 100 by 100 stone slab, and that was with the ability to dump them straight out of her inventory like turning on a faucet.
But she would not allow her shiny new bed to be made of such cheap craftsmanship. Melia augmented the copper coins with an additional 5 million silver coins.
And again, dragons weren’t known for copper or silver; they were known for gold. It hurt Melia’s pride (not her wallet), but the layer of gold was superficial at best. She added a paltry 2 million gold on top, and not even covering everything completely, being, at best, a few feet dense at its thickest.
If she got any complaints from snobby neighbors looking down on her den, she could add more, but she’d need to revisit her vault to stock up. This was all she had on hand.
Melia spent another hour or so adjusting the paintings, arranging the statues and busts on their plinths, and positioning the [King Tyrant Skull] just right. She picked up handfuls of coins and let them fall artfully in the eye sockets and was only satisfied when it was half-buried under her mound.
The same went for the armor: the full sets were displayed atop the mountain of gold, while the individual pieces were scattered around and partially submerged to make them look like hidden treasures. And, of course, Melia could not forget jewels. As a top-notch [Jewelcrafter], Melia had cut many fine gems, which she added, along with actual [Gold Ingots], as decorations like one would put strawberries in the frosting on top of a cake.
Melia stood back, gauged her new costly mountain, and smiled. She was satisfied; on this pile, she could sleep well.
…maybe?
Truthfully, Melia had yet to get a poor night’s sleep, no matter where she was in this world, so she assumed she could sleep on metal.
But, she was also not an idiot.
She just created a literal mountain of treasure that would make the first person to stumble across it a literal millionaire. She couldn’t have the first shady [Rogue] that came slinking along walking off with her new bed. So now, she needed to pull some magic.
Maybe not quite as powerful as commanding the leyline, but it might be close. And certainly, having a new font of power running beneath the abbey at her fingertips made this task easier.
When laying the foundation of her den, Melia made sure to etch a sacred circle into the stone. This would be her most complicated spellwork yet, and part of her wanted to drag the Headmaster and the Bishop back out to her field so she could brag.
It would become a 128-point star, and every one of those would be defensive. A solid quarter of them would go into creating a dome of invisibility. It was something she had seen in the game, shimmering bubbles of magic that bent the light (or something) all around the area inside. She first encountered it, ironically, in the Titanic Tundra expansion in a small encampment where a group of mages was holding out against a [Frost Dragon]. In the game, technically, time didn’t really pass, but the developers made sure to have four [Mages] continuously channeling their mana to sustain the barrier.
Melia didn’t have four [Mages], but she didn’t need them. She impaled [Mithril Rods] along the perimeter and wrote the lattice into them, connecting her den to the layline. She watched with satisfied fascination as a translucent bubble shimmered into place.
From the outside, standing inches from the barrier, a person could see in. Standing between 10 and 100 feet away, it looked like a giant purple bubble, impossible to see through. But any farther away than that…and it appeared that nothing was there at all, showing the ground beneath the stone and the trees in the distance.
Another chunk of enchantments, Melia dedicated to keeping her new space comfortable and contained. She installed climate control, keeping the air inside the bubble a crisp 70 degrees, and she cast a repellent along the dome itself. Any weather would bounce off harmlessly, keeping the space inside intact and dry, but to observers, it would again appear as if nothing was there. And finally, Melia addressed the issue of her stuff.
She didn’t want to make her treasure physically intangible, because she wanted to sleep on it and, if she was honest, to let people interact with it if she was home. So, she used the remaining slots on her lattice to prevent her stuff from leaving. People could only remove her treasure from the bubble under two conditions.
One, if she gave them permission.
Two…if she was slain.
Melia considered the second path unlikely.
She finalized the spell and watched in satisfaction as it stabilized, drawing harmlessly from the leyline to sustain itself. Now, it would last as long as she did. For finishing touches, she cleaned up the area around her sign, the one the children made. Maybe she would have to invite them for lunch.
It occurred to Melia that she’d never actually seen a real dragon’s den, but surely this couldn’t be too far from the truth.
Jessica was, for once, genuinely excited to go to the guild.
Not because she was thinking about all the money they could make from selling loot, and not because she was imagining the potential quests they could pick up.
Those things held a certain appeal, but if she was heading into the guild because she needed to be there, if she was tagging along with Al or running errands, her enthusiasm was blunted.
Today, despite having no immediate benefit for visiting, Jessica was downright giddy. Al wasn’t lying when he said they would mostly be handling paperwork. But what he didn’t mention was that during this upcoming appointment, they would meet with counselors to help them understand their newfound power and guide it in the direction they wanted to go.
She was certain Melia would have tagged along to be part of that, but again, to an outside observer, it probably would be very boring, and she wouldn’t have been allowed to sit in if she wasn’t a member anyway. Though Jessica didn’t fancy anyone’s chances at trying to keep the gnome out of a place she wanted to go to.
Ellesea was the closest to rank 4. Level 400 wasn’t necessarily a hard line in the sand, but it was a major milestone for many reasons, most crucially the one at which most people gained an evolved class. There wasn’t a set limit to when or how a person could achieve evolution. It could happen at rank 2; it might not happen even at rank 10. But for someone actively pursuing advancement, the system generally granted it at 400 if most criteria were met.
Jessica was frustrated that her efforts to gain a [Ranger] class hadn’t paid off. She was pretty good with a bow, and she felt she had a better than decent understanding of traps and pathfinding, so what was taking so long? Was it really just because she couldn’t pick up [Stealth]? Was that why she wasn’t getting the [Rogue] class? Even Y’cennia had managed to pick up [Cooking] after a solid afternoon of baking bread.
Jessica’s hands fell to her stomach. A twinge of phantom bloat hit her as she groaned.
Regardless, [Sunrise] entered the main guild in the capital, full of energy and expectation. Technically, they could have gone to any branch to update their records, but one of the reasons they decided to come back to Horizon was the wealth of information available at headquarters. She didn’t think a place like Lakeridge or StoneCairne had an on-staff [Lorekeeper]. While the man wasn’t any good at combat himself, he was like a [Librarian] on roids. Forget [Rage] potions; Y’cennia needed to work on bottling [Knowledge].
Jessica’s excitement dimmed slightly upon entering.
Before today, whenever she had entered a guild, nobody batted an eye. She was only rank 3 and not worth fussing over. Her entire party was the same. They might as well be invisible. From entry, to perusing the quest board, to taking care of business at the counter, they might get a handful of glances at best. Somebody might get curious at the sound of the opening door and look up, but when they saw it was only [Sunrise], they’d go back to whatever they were previously doing.
Not today.
Several heads rose as they walked inside, as expected, but instead of falling or turning away, several people nudged their neighbors, and more people looked up.
Jessica felt her skin crawl; that tingling feeling she got when she was about to step on a trap or walk into danger. People were finally staring…but it wasn’t in a good way.
And, to top it off, it wasn’t just her, but her entire party. Most eyes were on Eluna, which was to be expected from a high elf in Horizon. But Jessica didn’t need Y’cennia’s hearing to tell that the murmurs rising in the room were talking about the [Saint]. It seemed the secret was finally out, and judging from the way the strawberry elf was fidgeting, she heard them loud and clear.
Maybe that was why the legendary healer allowed herself to be persuaded to join the guild. Unlike Melia, who had extreme reasons to avoid the guild’s prying eyes, Eluna didn’t have the strength of a dragon at her immediate beck and call. Yes, Melia would probably respond immediately if any one of them were threatened, but that would still take time. Eluna, and the rest of them, were vulnerable in the meantime.
But protection alone wasn’t enough to entice a veteran like Eluna Brandywine, hero of countless wars, or so thought Jessica. She could only guess that something big was building, and she was trying to cover every angle. As an official member of the guild, she had many more options at her disposal than “burn it all down in dragon fire.”
Jessica felt more than a little humbled that the legendary healer chose to rely on them and make [Sunrise] her new team. Jessica grew up on some rough streets; she could tell when people were gathering allies for an upcoming gang war.
But whatever it was that was going on behind the scenes, and Jessica didn’t believe for a second there wasn’t, it had to wait. After helping set Eluna up as a brand new member of the Adventurer's Guild, and the five of them followed a receptionist into a large meeting room where an old man sat behind a towering pile of books.
“Welcome!” The [Lorekeeper] said. Standing up, he was barely taller than the stack of tomes on the table, but Jessica wasn’t sure if the man was just short or bent with age and wisdom. Alastair greeted the man first, as was tradition, and introduced everybody one by one. The old man smiled enthusiastically at each and every one of them, though his eyes went wide at Eluna Brandywine’s name. Of course, somebody with a class like [Lorekeeper] would be very well versed in the names of ancient heroes. To his credit, he did not let Eluna’s storied background intimidate him. He treated her like any other client, and since she recently joined the guild, Jessica supposed she was.
Ellesea went first, though the man didn’t have many specifics to give her, correctly guessing that she was already in a dedicated learning plan from the Academy. Instead, he surprised them all (and proved his worth) by biting down several excellent resources, both reading material and available tutors, which she could call in to further her studies.
Alastair was next, and Jessica could only roll her eyes. Right off the bat, the two of them got into a heady discussion of theology. The man was like a living encyclopedia, and Jessica would not be surprised in the least if it turned out he had a skill that gave him perfect recall for all things written. And yet, even though it seemed like they got sidetracked for over an hour talking about various gods and goddesses, the man seamlessly brought it all around in the end and suggested Alastair delve into particular passages that would benefit him as a tank.
Finally, it was Jessica’s turn. The man listened patiently as Jessica expounded in great detail on her recent exploits, from running their first dungeon and acquiring a Soulbound piece of loot to her [Looting] skill and her recent achievements in archery. She left out becoming Melia’s dedicated meal buddy because that was personal and not meant to be shared. She did mention how she was running into a wall when trying to pick up [Stealth], even though “a Master [Rogue]” had agreed to help her. So far, she had met no success.
The man nodded seriously, and as he had for everybody else, he began writing notes. The [Lorekeeper] truly did have a story or an anecdote for everything. Jessica leaned forward impatiently, eagerly awaiting his advice. But as he slid the paper forward, she saw no famous [Rogues], [Assassins], or even a single [Ranger] mentioned. Not a hint of how she could possibly acquire the elusive skill. She looked up, annoyed and somewhat hurt, but the man shook his head gently.
“Perhaps,” he said gently, “The path of [Ranger] simply isn’t for you. You are, of course, more than welcome to keep trying, but to me, it doesn’t sound like you are suited to [Stealth]. However, more importantly, what sets a [Ranger] apart from others is their ability to work alone. From what you’ve said, I think being part of a team is more important to you than you realize. Sometimes, people just aren’t compatible with a class. Now tell me, what else interests you?”
Jessica slumped in her chair and tried not to let the news break her. And what did interest her? Actually, now that she thought about it, maybe she did need to bring up Melia’s mealtime. She’d need to do it in a subtle, roundabout way so she didn’t give up the game of being a foodie-dragon’s snack-spotter. But that was kind of the point, wasn’t it? She just realized how much she enjoyed those excursions. She was learning so much about random monsters, not just what the system told Melia (who could [Identify] literally everything), but also the random and bizarre insights Melia herself offered.
Yes, she enjoyed bows, but she already knew the upgrade path of an [Archer] was not for her. Not a [Sniper], not an [Arbalist]…even if she did have a mentor there. [Ranger] had always been a stopgap measure, something to aim at but never a hard target.
Perhaps it was time to give serious consideration to something like a [Beastmaster].