“Aaah! Hamph!”
The twins are in a fierce battle against their sandwiches too. I can see the juices from the meat dripping out of the bread. It would have been better to crush up the patties and let the bread absorb the juices for a while first. The twins, however, are just slurping them up instead.
As I work on tackling my own hamburger sandwich, Mr. Alf and Mr. Skelly awaken. When Mr. Skelly approaches, he bends his legs just slightly, then spreads his arms in the shape of a “V” as he stands up tall. When a nearby player spots him, he joins and does the same thing at Mr. Skelly’s side.
“What are you doing?”
“Praise the Sun!” they both cheer. They shake hands energetically, like they’ve at long last met a kindred spirit. Of course, the sky marking their propitious meeting is completely overcast.
“You sure you wanna do that, you bag of bones?” Mr. Alf asks.
“It’s just a greeting! What’s the big deal?” Mr. Skelly replies.
I hand them both their own servings of food, as well as one for the player who’s joined us. He takes his hamburger sandwich and leaves us.
“Whoa, it’s meat!” cries Mr. Skelly.
“I don’t see any veggies on this hamburger. What’s with that?” Mr. Alf asks me.
“I mixed them into the meat. I promise,” I insist.
“Hmm. Well, all right then.”
The vegetables are inside the patties themselves. There’s at least a small amount of vegetables, so you can’t claim they’re missing.
“This is really good!” says Mr. Skelly.
“Now that I think of it, I haven’t had Hamburg steaks in a long time.”
“I usually order regular steaks instead,” he replies to Mr. Alf.
“Yeah, same here.”
One has to go to a restaurant to get Hamburg steaks if they don’t make them at home, but most restaurants with Hamburg steaks will also have regular steaks on the menu. I suppose the poor, defenseless Hamburg steak just can’t compete in their eyes. And actually, on top of that, it’s easier to make steaks than Hamburg steaks if you are willing to go to the trouble of cooking for yourself—assuming you aren’t concerned with hurdles like a specific doneness, anyway.
In any case, we undead, who don’t need to eat in the first place, gobble up our hamburger sandwiches.
“Hm? I’m reading that people ranked C or higher at the adventurers’ union are being recruited to ‘help the feudal lord move to his new home,’” Mr. Skelly informs us.
“During the festival?” Mr. Alf asks.
“Maybe because he’s already moved all the necessary stuff out? In addition to your ranking, you also have to swear to Stellura that you ‘won’t steal during the job’ if you want to get the offer.”
“You mean you can’t just swear not to steal in general?”
“Vows to Stellura are extremely binding and powerful. It’s best to narrow them down as much as possible. A vow not to steal in general will last forever, after all,” I inform them.
“But what if you never steal?” the twins chime in.
“The problem is that you’re not the one who decides whether or not you’re keeping your vows.”
This is actually a very important factor.
“Let’s say that the two of you, Mr. Ame and Ms. Trine, are in separate classes at school,” I begin.
“Uh-huh?”
“Then Ms. Trine borrows Mr. Ame’s dictionary without permission while he’s away at music class. Do you know what that means for your vow?”
“It breaks it?”
“Correct. Your vow is now broken.”
“I see, so we really aren’t the judges, are we?” Mr. Alf remarks.
“I guess that’s theft if you look at the action alone and ignore the fact that they’re siblings,” adds Mr. Skelly.
In cases like these, the outer one who comes to punish you will hear you out—even letting you go free if they accept your story. In my example, the twins would only need to prove their relationship with each other. However, different outer ones will have their own personal criteria for guilt, so it’s possible that some won’t even let you put up an argument at all.
“Breaking vows to the gods will result in very harsh punishments. You shouldn’t make them without the proper consideration,” I warn the others.
“I hear the lord’s quest comes with a really good reward, so I’m sure it’s a great job for honest people to take,” says Mr. Skelly.
“The festival continues into tomorrow too, so the reward could be really useful if people use it to help us,” Mr. Alf adds.
“Maybe that’s the lord’s plan,” Mr. Skelly suggests.
I eat breakfast and chat with my party members until 8 a.m., at which point outsiders start to awaken and begin their daily routines. I see a lot more player markers around the town now.
“Okay, what should we do for today?” I ask them.
“Right now, we’ve got the cat, the pumpkins, and the lost kids to look into,” Mr. Alf informs me.
“That’s about it. Oh, and maybe something’s going on at the lord’s manor. We can explore that place if we accept his job,” adds Mr. Skelly.
He still has belongings he needs moved. I heard that the manor usually has lookouts posted outside of it too.
Wait…
“I don’t think the lord’s manor will contain information vital to the main event,” I tell them.
“How come?” the twins chime in.
“They said the event is the exact same difficulty across every server, but only the server with the main event is a bit different. If you need a rank of C or above to help the lord move, that puts it at the same level as an escort mission.”
“And only second-wavers at best can get to a C rank right now, right?” Mr. Alf follows up.
“I doubt that rank requirement changes across servers, so doesn’t that prohibit it from being linked to the main event at all?” I explain.
“I see!” cry the twins.
“Hmm, so it’s a way of mitigating the difficulty, in a way. We won’t find anything unexpected there, but that also means there won’t be any hints either.”
“Although, it’d be easy enough for spirit body players to sneak in,” I remind him.
“Nah, I don’t think it’s worth the risk,” Mr. Skelly answers me.