In the morning, Melia took Y’cennia to the library. Ellesea was back in class (which barely had any interruptions considering Melia’s draconic visit to the city), and the rest of the team decided to take it easy and hang out at the beach. Layalee had [Stealthed] and followed the [Mage] discreetly, just so nothing out of the ordinary happened when it could be easily prevented. Melia insisted that Ellesea be informed because nobody wanted to be stalked without their knowledge. Layalee looked perfectly content to keep the small girl in the dark, but as soon as Melia explained her reasoning, Ellesea begrudgingly agreed. She didn’t want to be the cause of the second visitation of The Destroyer upon the city, and after considering what some nobles might do to corner her, she accepted the escort without protest.
After a stupidly large breakfast (which left most of the household in a food coma), Melia dragged Y’cennia over to Midna, who was lounging in some shade. Melia herself wasn’t actually that full; in fact, she was hardly satisfied…perhaps it was time to go feast on some monsters again. She shook her head. Now was not the time. Her Food Buddy was groaning off breakfast.
“Hello, Midna,” Melia cooed softly to the giant cat. Midna swished her tail and looked pleased.
…or maybe she looked pissed off? With cats, sometimes it was hard to tell. But since she gave Melia a small lick (physically lifting her off the ground), she guessed it was the former, not the latter.
“You normally carry Brandy and me,” Melia said conversationally, “But do you mind carrying Y’cennia today?”
Honestly, Melia didn’t know exactly where Midna fell on the intelligence scale. The cat was obviously very smart; she clearly understood language, but she paid attention to what was said only about half the time. Melia didn’t know if Midna simply didn’t understand most of the words or if she just didn’t care.
The big cat looked at the smaller cat and blinked. Y’cennia waved timidly, though her conflicted smile suggested she didn’t know if she should play along or not. Midna stretched, raising her rear into the air as her jaw stretched open with a massive yawn…and then plopped down in front of the two so they could mount up.
“Well, this isn’t terrifying at all,” Y’cennia muttered as she settled onto the Nightsaber’s back. Melia hopped up, gave the cat two loving thumps on the side, and they were off.
Midna padded effortlessly through the busy streets of Horizon. Melia amused herself by imagining a cat like this riding down a modern-day highway, mingling with cars and bikes while specifically making sure to follow all the same rules of the road. Not because Melia wanted to break the law or anything, but imagining a Nightsaber sitting at a stoplight felt unreasonably hilarious at the moment.
The cat pulled up to the front of a huge, church-like building and let Melia and Y’cennia off. This was the Horizon Grand Library, and though there were many other sources of information in the city, this was by far the most complete.
Once inside, Melia enlisted the help of a librarian because searching through what felt like a million books wasn’t something she could do by herself in a reasonable time. They were there to look up information on Y’cennia’s new class, as they were sure that [Mixologist] was not unique or unheard of. Maybe it was rare, neither of them knew, but that, too, wasn’t that much of a surprise. Melia was not fluent in class evolutions, and Y’cennia was barely more than an apprentice when she set out to become an independent [Alchemist].
The [Librarian] smiled warmly at them as they entered, and though he couldn’t tell them much about the class himself, he was more than happy to point them in the right direction. He used a skill and Melia gasped; a little sparkle of golden light bloomed in front of her and began floating down the aisles. Some sort of locator spell, she figured. The ball led them through the stacks, up some stairs, and into a well-lit corner filled with well-used tomes. As the ball approached an intersection, it broke into 5 separate, smaller lights and zipped into individual books. Melia and Y’cennia quickly retrieved the glowing books before the light faded, and soon they found themselves sitting around a table, reading.
At least, Melia did.
To Y’cennia’s great chagrin, she could only understand 1 out of the 5 books, as the others were very old and written in an ancient tongue. Melia once again found she had no trouble understanding the words of this world, and she wondered whether that was her draconic heritage or a holdover from all the time she had spent learning the lore of the game and ranking up her language skills. Not that the developers had actually invented any new languages. The “skills” in the game were used exclusively for role-playing. If a player switched their speech to one of the in-game languages and tried to talk, it simply came out garbled for anybody who didn’t have a sufficient understanding of that language. People could read books from the relevant factions to build their skills, and eventually, Melia read them all.
So, she spent the better part of a couple of hours basically playing story time for Y’cennia. The catgirl was embarrassed at first, sitting like a kid at the foot of a storyteller, but she was mollified as useful little tidbits came to light.
It turned out that [Mixologist] was a popular, if somewhat niche, class. It fell out of favor many years ago (before the game took place, if Melia’s reckoning of dates was correct), when specialized approaches became more prevalent. Simply put: a [Mixologist] did everything an [Alchemist] and a [Cook] did better…but nothing new.
For example, an [Alchemist] had several appealing evolutions. Those who wanted to specialize in mass production could become a [Potionist]. They’d receive a plethora of skills that let them multiply the results of a single recipe, effectively saving them a fortune on production costs. Or, maybe they wanted to focus on turning one material into another. [Transmutationists] could do that quite easily. There were [Poisonists], who, obviously, made many poisons, and [Lethalists]...who more often than not, blew themselves up. [Engineering], and everything it seemed to touch, was very dangerous.
Lastly, the most common [Alchemist] evolution in the modern era was the fabled [Philosophist]. Not to be confused with a [Philosopher]. While the latter was a great thinker and pondered many of the world’s mysteries, the former was almost exclusively obsessed with the [Philosopher's Stone]. In legend, the [Stone] was meant to bestow eternal life upon anyone who obtained it, but Melia knew, in reality, this wasn’t quite the case. She also wondered why it was so rare. According to the books, most [Philosophists] never managed to make one, and the few that did only created forgeries or imperfect replicas. Listening to Y’cennia talk about them almost reverently made Melia decide to keep the one in her inventory hidden, at least for now.
On the other side of the evolution equation was the [Cooking] class. [Cooking] dealt entirely with making food, and there were subdivisions dedicated to regional specialties just as there would have been on Earth. Most evolutions of [Cooking] still went by [Cooking], but they’d generally have a modifier, such as [Chef], [Sous Chef], or [Master Chef]. A person who had that class for long enough might eventually be granted a title of the same name. Sometimes these classes might have a suffix applied to them, such as [of Eastern Cuisine] or [of Elvish Delights], but generally, there were other variations, such as [Culinarian] or [Gastronomist], which appeared more frequently depending on the region.
So, if all those other evolutions made their original class more powerful (if slightly more select), what did a [Mixologist] do?
From what Melia could understand, it combined the two classes into one. Or, rather, it allowed the creation of a single item that would otherwise require two. More specifically, potions were potions, and food buffs belonged to food…normally. A [Mixologist] could make a potion with a food buff…or create a dish that constantly reactivated a potion’s effect every couple of minutes.
Y’cennia’s ears perked up. This sounded very interesting, and she wondered why the class fell out of practice. Even if the buffs she received from the new items she created weren’t any greater than the sum of their parts, having them centralized on a smaller, concentrated unit made them more valuable as a whole.
Did this mean she could distill a turkey dinner into a drink? One that, say, raised Dexterity by a small percentage while also healing wounds? That way, if a food buff ran out in the middle of a dungeon, the party could reapply it without having to sit down for a meal. Or, conversely, could she add something like the effects of an [Ironskin Potion] (increased Constitution for 2 minutes) to a dish that would last half an hour?
Or, most important of all…did this mean her potions would no longer taste like wet socks and death?!
Y’cennia was very eager to start [Cooking] to build the skills she would need to raise the quality of her results to something above 3 stars. Having tasted food from real [Chefs] like Penny and Melia, she was reluctant to settle for anything she wouldn’t be willing to purchase from a street vendor.
Again, this was all dependent on if Melia understood correctly.
Deciphering what amounted to an ancient blog that read like so was not easy:
Take ye the mealy draught and vex it mightily with the rod of turning; twice sunwise shalt thou compel its course, and fourfold against the sun shalt thou unmake that same motion. Thereafter, pour in the [Elixir of Stout Limbs], neither hasty nor slothful.
When one-third of an hour hath been surrendered unto the Oven's Dominion, the sacred cake shall emerge. Whoso partaketh thereof shall find his hurts somewhat mended, his arm made sterner in labor, and upon his tongue there shall linger the faint remembrance of garlic, though none may say with certainty whence it came.
At the very least, both she and Y’cennia were able to stifle their laughter and avoid getting kicked out of the library.
Brandy found herself in a surreal position. Never would she imagine taking a vacation to a fantasy world just so she could lounge on a beach, but there were serious contenders for reasons why she should consider it.
First, the beach Melia’s house was on was spotless. It was nicer than anything she’d ever seen before back home. Better than Hawaii, better than Malibu, better than any resort she’d seen in advertisements or on the web. She’d never been on a cruise, but Brandy was hard pressed to imagine some place in the Caribbean featuring sands this white or service this supreme.
After all, if she wanted refreshment, all she had to do was lazily flick her hand in the air and a [Retainer] would be by her side in a heartbeat. Literally a heartbeat. The first time one of the three materialized by her side, Brandy thought she was going to have a heart attack. It was almost like some short-range teleportation skill. The huge human woman had been overseeing Jessica as she splashed around in the waves; a single blink later and she was looming (politely) over Brandy’s lounge.
At least Brandy got a hollowed-out coconut with fruit juice inside for her troubles. It even came with a decorative paper umbrella. The only way it could have been any better was if it had booze. Surely this world had rum…actually, Brandy was certain it did. It had whiskey, it had wine, and it had dwarves. More than anything, it had dwarves. She seemed to recall there being a “beer of the month” club or something like it, where on the first day of every month, club members received a free sample of limited-time alcohol in their mailbox. The effects varied and Brandy didn’t want to think about the ramifications of sending potentially volatile substances through the post, but it was just crazy enough that this place might do it.
So if that were true and the possibilities were limitless…what drink would be good here?
The obvious and boring answer was a pina colada. It was so cliché, Brandy would almost be insulted if it didn’t find its way into fantasy land.
She’d obviously drink it if it did, and might pair it with shrimp tacos. Especially if she could get Melia to make the tacos.
Brandy wouldn’t say no to a coco loco. Did fantasy worlds know about poke? E-vale has a “Far East,” and sushi was definitely an item that floated around for a time, so Brandy was pretty sure she could get a bowl of something. If all else failed, she’d even settle for a fruit platter with mango or lime.
Brandy watched Jessica get bowled over by a wave.
…did high elves come in mango flavors, too?
The [Hunter] was rubbing off on her.
The strangest part of this entire relaxing afternoon had to be the swimsuits. Brandy was no stranger to swimsuits; in fact, she filled out a bikini rather nicely. But, again…this was supposed to be a fantasy world. Where was her realism? Conversely, if she had to choose between overworked serfs toiling in the fields and coming home to scraps of rock-hard bread and watery beer, she’d take a colorful one-piece any day of the week.
The fact that Jessica had shimmied into a relatively modest two-piece and Alastair was rocking a pair of baggy trunks without a second thought again made Brandy pause. Ellesea, having returned from the Academy, was wearing something more modest, but at best Brandy would have called it a “bloomer suit,” as it looked like something straight out of the late 1800s.
But in the end, she chalked it up to the developer's love of introducing seasonal items, rare drops, and, of course, paid cosmetics from the real-money shops. What was the second-best thing to drop into a hot mmo if they didn’t want to stoop to gachas? Limited-time outfits.
Brandy had fallen prey to more than one pet that had appeared in the shop “for a limited time only.”
“My lady, do you require anything?” Layalee asked.
Brandy tilted the brim of her large sunhat (which was taken from Melia’s incredible stash of goods the [Retainers] gave them access to) and peered up at the woman. All three [Retainers] continued to wear their uniforms, which added to the peculiarity of her surroundings. But to answer the woman’s question directly….
“No, thank you very much. I’m good.”
“As you wish,” the huge woman bowed. “If you need assistance, please let us know.”
She began trudging back towards Jessica, who was doing an admirable impression of a beached whale. Brandy had to wonder how Layalee kept the sand out of her boots.
Movement to Brandy’s right reminded her that she was not alone lounging on this beach. Alastair was sitting quietly under the shade of an umbrella, once again reading a book. The [Paladin] often threw himself into scriptures and daily meditations when they weren’t busy killing monsters, and today was no exception. It was very much on-brand, and again, Brandy didn’t hate it. She’d rather have the cliche, pious, “holy man” than a two-faced fraud. Alastair seemed to notice her gaze and put down his book.
“How are you faring, Lady Brandywine?”
Brandy resisted rolling her eyes.
“You know you can call me by my name, Al,” she chuckled weakly.
“Hm,” Al said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I can.”
The way he said it earnestly made Brandy sit up. He turned to face her fully, giving her his whole attention.
“You are the [Saint],” he said, quickly holding up a hand to stall her protests. Brandy kept her mouth shut; she felt he deserved to speak his mind. “This has never been clearer to me than when you use your healing. But more than that…you are the conduit of Celestara. Her chosen mouthpiece. Her mortal champion and divine avatar. How could I address you with anything less than fervent adoration? Despite knowing this is not what you wish. My heart tells me you’re no different from me. But my eyes see nothing except Her radiant grace all around you, and my brain demands that I lay myself at your feet and obey your every command.”
Brandy looked particularly sour and Al laughed ruefully.
“I feel like you wouldn’t appreciate that very much.”
“No,” Brandy said. “I can’t say that I would.”
“Which I think,” Al said, turning to face the beach, “Is partially what validates your [Sainthood]. I think my goddess would not be so willing to commune with an avatar who tries to take Her glory for their own. And…,” Al paused, slipping Brandy another glance. He wasn’t looking at her eyes, but he wasn’t exactly staring at her chest, either. His eyes were locked onto the crystal pendant Brandy always wore around her neck. Celestara’s pendant. Al tore his eyes away and stared out into the ocean. “I can sense Her presence. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Was it a lack of faith? Was I blind? Her light lives in you, shines through you.”
Al closed his eyes and laughed sadly again.
“So I hope you can forgive me, Lady Brandywine. I address you as such, not out of disrespect to you, but devotion to my goddess.”
It was a bitter pill to swallow, but for some strange reason Brandy couldn’t place…coming from Alastair, it felt right.
“You know what?” Brandy eventually sighed. “Sure. I can live with that. Maybe,” she chuckled, “Over time, you’ll change your mind. We’ve got a long road ahead of us, you know? You might learn a thing or two about me that’ll make you want to eat those words.”
“We live one day at a time,” Al said sagely, though he smiled as he did so. “Leave tomorrow’s problems where they belong.”
They fell into silence as they watched Jessica try to convince L’menia and Layalee to help her bury Lethia in the sand. The tigerkin was all on board, but they’d clearly need the [Berserker] if they wanted to overpower the elf…if for no other reason than to dig a deep enough hole. Predictably, the plan didn’t go at all as Jessica hoped, and she found herself (alongside a reluctant Ellesea) acting like a damsel in distress inside a real-life sand castle. How the [Retainers] had the knowledge to create a fortified lump of sand taller than Brandy was standing up, or why they had the skills to do so and keep it from crumbling in on itself, Brandy almost didn’t want to know. It even featured a moat, crenelated walls with corner tower turrets, and a working drawbridge. There had to be such a thing as being too competent.
“Do you mind if I ask some questions?” Alastair asked at length, breaking the silence.
“Hm?” Brandy mumbled. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“What’s She like?” Alastair asked meekly. Brandy tilted her head and he clarified. “Celestara? In these days of peace, most other deities rarely reveal themselves to us mortals, mostly only to the highest members of their church. I think there might be some clergy of Helena who’ve received revelations, and certain scholars are always trying to say Ghelt speaks through spells. I don’t know how true that is. But at the very least, followers of a certain god or goddess can usually feel their chosen deity at their strongest temples. Perhaps nothing as clear as words, but feelings and hunches, nudges in the right direction. That sort of thing.”
“But not Celestara?” Brandy asked.
“No,” Al shook his head. “She has been silent since the end of the Age of Upheaval. Some say she used too much of her power assisting the Visitors aiding our world. They blame the ‘heroes,’ saying that when they vanished, they took Celestara with them. Others defend the Visitors’ actions, saying that without them, we would have perished. But they argue that the strain on Celestara was too great, and she slipped into something close to slumber to regain her strength. Personally, I find the second explanation more reasonable. I couldn’t imagine what it costs to bring someone back from the dead.”
“About 75% of your mana, so long as you’re not in combat,” Brandy chuckled darkly to herself, but it was clear Al didn’t hear her.
“Hm?” He asked, turning her way, but she shook her head.
“Nothing,” Brandy smiled, “But I think I might not be the best person to ask.”
“I’d disagree,” Al said smoothly. “I’d say you’re the only person to ask.”
Brandy gave it some thought and realized Al was right. From the human side of things, at least, there probably weren’t many, if any, remaining members of the church who’d been around when the game was in full swing. She seemed to remember a certain lore character related to the Church of Light, but he was ancient during the game, so even if he survived the final bosses the devs threw into the mix, it wasn’t like he was going to live forever.
“Well, take it with a grain of salt, then,” Brandy mused. “What is Celestara like…?”
She tapped her finger on her chin and really thought about it.
Most of Brandy’s experiences with the sealed goddess weren’t good. But was that Celestara’s fault? Begrudgingly, Brandy had to say no. It wasn’t Celestara’s fault she got dragged here, and it wasn’t Celestara’s fault she was so lonely. She didn’t have anybody to talk to, being sealed away as she was, so Brandy should really cut the girl some slack for invading her dreams just to chat. It was just…Brandy really liked to sleep, and she really didn’t like when people interrupted it for no good reason.
“She…tries,” Brandy said, and she watched Al’s eyes widen. He probably never thought to hear somebody talk about his goddess like this, but then again, maybe he shouldn’t have asked Brandy if he wasn’t looking for the blunt truth.
“She’s sad,” Brandy tried again. “She hears people’s pleas, but she can’t do anything about them. She can’t pour out her blessings and she can’t make full use of her domain. She can’t raise up champions like the other gods can. There’s so much she wants to do, so much good she wants to bring…but she can’t. She can’t even receive the fullness of her followers' faith.”
At least, that’s how Brandy interpreted it whenever Celestara invaded her dreams.
“So she’s lonely,” Brandy laughed. “And she misses the tangibility of offerings.”
So much so that she demanded an avocado tree be planted in her honor.
“But if I had to say, Al…she is kind. She’s patient. She’s loving. And it hurts her that she must send her people into danger just to set her free.”
As much as the imprisoned goddess annoyed Brandy when she visited in her dreams, Brandy could not say Celestara wasn’t passionate. She clearly did love Humanity, not just humans, and every time a person died unjustly, it made her weep. Right now, she couldn’t save a single one of them. And truth be told, even if Brandy and some “hero’s party” managed to defeat the “Dark Lord,” it wasn’t guaranteed that she could. For all Brandy knew, this might be a one-way trip. Celestara guaranteed that Brandy would at least make it back to her own home safe and sound, no matter what happened to this body…but the same probably couldn’t be said for anybody else.
“So it’s true, then,” Alastair said grimly. “To release the goddess, we must defeat the Demon King.”
“The quest says [Dark Lord],” Brandy corrected, “But I figure it’s the same thing. Those terms were pretty interchangeable back in the day. Usually, when one strong guy gets drunk with power and starts taking out all the other strong guys. From what I understand, that sounds like demons, alright. And I don’t know about this ‘we’ business, either,” Brandy chuckled. “I don’t know about you, but I’d just as soon throw a whole army of rank 9 or 10s at him than 4 rank 4s and rank 2.”
“Hmm,” Al agreed. “So we must grow stronger, then. For the Light!”
“Sure,” Brandy smiled. “For the Light.”