A Gamer's Guide To Beating The Tutorial

Well out on the street, Emil opted to walk to the city council. It was only a brief walk, after all, and a few minutes out in the fresh air would do him good. He was surprised to see the streets fairly well occupied despite the unwelcoming weather, with people out and about, chatting and shopping and doing their dismal duties while wearing smiles rather than the typical, mildly apprehensive faces of despair.

Smiling. Despite everything, they were smiling. As though awoken from some hastily dug grave, Emil felt a smile reanimate his lips, much alike those worn by the people around him. If they could find some small note of joy in this dreary time of year, in circumstances as pessimistic as these, then why couldn’t he? Life was fairly good, after all. According to Kitty, the numbers of infected had gone down drastically in the past few weeks. They were looking at a path out of this horrific epidemic, unmarred by the horrors of what had come before.

At least, so he hoped.

When he arrived at the city council, Kitty opened the door for him, and Emil was able to once more pretend that he hadn’t forgotten that the man had been at his side this entire time. He really could be like a shadow at times. Not that it was unpleasant. Oftentimes, Emil felt quite happy to remember that he always had the younger man at his side, ever present and always happy to discuss current events or lighten the mood. Sometimes—Emil could tell by the way they jumped once they noticed him—even his own party members forgot he was there at all. He had a strange such quality. Despite how unique he was, he could always blend in, looking as though he belonged wherever he was. Perfectly inconspicuous.

Of course, that didn’t stop Emil from giving him a thankful nod whenever he did things for him, such as opening the door. Acting on a minor impulse, Emil made sure to watch as Kitty let the door fall close behind him. Not that he didn’t think Kitty wouldn’t come along. It was more along the lines that he wasn’t sure if he’d notice had Kitty decided to stay outside.

Thankfully, though, he had no reason to fret, and Kitty was soon behind him, wearing a mildly inquisitive look on his face. Emil shrugged, smiled, and went on his way. A receptionist briefly glanced up, made note of their visit, and returned to their business as Emil and his friend made their way up the stairs to the mayor’s office.

At the end of a posh hallway, Emil graced a hefty wooden door with a few knocks, to which he soon received a welcoming reply—”Come on in!”

Emil obeyed, only pausing to let Kitty open the door for him before slipping inside, his trusty friend close at his back. “Thank you for accepting us on such short notice, mayor. I am aware that you’re a busy goblin.”

The mayor glanced up from his work, his nose briefly furling at the presence of humans in his office. “Oh, it’s you. If this is about your accommodations—”

“No, no, not at all,” Emil said, expertly placating the mayor’s fears. The mayor, in turn, clearly relaxed, one ear twitching.

“No? Good.” A slightly smile passed his lips. “In that case, I look forward to hear any good news you might bring. Go on, take a seat.”

Emil’s polite smile turned strained. “Thank you.” Luckily enough, Kitty’s natural inconspicuousness seemed to have worked even on the mayor, who made no note of his presence. Usually, he’d want the ‘hoeksak’ out of the room while they talked, but now, he made no such demands. Sighing slightly, Emil took a seat on the other side of the desk, his back straight as he watched the mayor’s forehead dip down to let him continue writing some official document or other. Emil cleared his throat. “Er-herm, so, mayor, about the topic of my visit…”

“Yes, isn’t it lovely?”

Emil’s mouth froze mid-opening. He slowly closed it. “...What is, sir?”

The mayor waved his drakefeather quill at the window—at the street just below, with the people walking by, happy, laughing. “Look at them. When was the last time you saw them smile like this? Now, they have every right to. With the gates opening, they will finally be able to meet their old friends again. They’ll be able to fill their bellies with food, and—”

“Open the gates?” Emil parrotted. “What do you mean, open the gates?”

“It’s been a long time coming,” the mayor continued absently. “With the plague finally drawing to a close, as you’ve told me, it’s just about time we let the people in on the good news. Last you told me, there were less than two thousand infected, isn’t that right?”

Emil could feel his jaw working and he turned to look at Kitty, who took a brief glance at some invisible window before shaking his head. Emil swallowed dryly. “Mayor, forgive me, but…”

“What is it, Moleman?” Saying so, the mayor adjusted his rose-rimmed glasses, allowing his eyes to once more fall behind the light-red spectacles. “You have not come here to loosen a dragon in mass, have you?”

Something chilled the air and Emil briefly turned his attention from the mayor, finding Kitty leaned right over his shoulder, his squinted eyes affixed to the mayor. He held up a hand, and with only a small, unhappy look, Kitty drew back a little. With that possible disaster averted, Emil returned his attention to the more imminent problem. “I’m sorry to say this, but I absolutely cannot recommend you to open the gates at this time. We just came from the hospital, and we have good reason to believe that another plague, possibly even worse than the drake pox, may be spreading at this very—”

Deliberately, even gracefully, the mayor put down his quill, laying it to the side. As Emil fell silent mid-sentence, the mayor steepled his hands, closed his eyes, and shook his head. Soon, his eyes opened, and he raised his face to watch Emil with something that almost resembled betrayal. “I had thought better of you, Moleman.”

“I’m not—” Emil caught himself. The room had turned cold. Speaking hastily now could cost him more than merely his food and lodgings. “A thousand apologies, but I’m afraid I’m not following, sir.”

Sighing, the mayor stood up, his stride measured as he paced around the circumference of the desk to eventually stand right at Emil’s side. When had Kitty moved away from him? Emil couldn’t tell, but the sudden lack of his trusted presence made the mayor’s intrusion all the more frightening. It took every ounce of Emil’s will to not shrink away where he sat. The mayor’s hand fell on his shoulder. Emil twitched. An almost fatherly, pitying expression crossed the older goblin’s face. “To come to me with this, now… Do you know what this would mean for me? For this city?”

Giving Emil no time to reply, the mayor soon continued. “I announced the opening of the gates this morning personally, at high mass, before the God of Will. What do you think will become of me should I now announce this to have been untrue? How do you think these famished people will react, hearing that this ungoblic state of things must continue, simply because there might be another plague? They are in famine, you know. Few have enough to eat on the daily. Going even another week without eating could lead to the deaths of more than have died by the plague alone. Would you really do that to them?”

His mouth felt dry. Wringing his hands did nothing to restrain the tremble mounting in them. “Sir, since not doing so may cause untold deaths, I believe—”

“Be quiet, hoeksak,” the mayor hissed. Emil’s jaw snapped shut. The brief look of flat, black anger was soon replaced by the same fabricated, paternal mask he wore before, mild smile and all. “No, we cannot do that. Never give nothing but bad news. If you tell them the skies will be gray, make sure to mention there will be no rain. If the castle is sieged, tell them how many survived. Not the casualties. Never the casualties.” There was a fatal quirk to his smile. “Unless you want them to arm themselves, of course. Should your aim to be the foster of hatred…” Something dark flitted through his eyes. “Mention nothing but the casualties.”

As Emil tried in vain to sort the thoughts rushing through his frenzied mind, the mayor patted his cheek. “There must be good news. You don’t mind being my good news, do you?”

“Your… good news, sir?”

“Yes. However, if only to ensure that we are on the same page…” The mayor slowly moved back to his side of the desk, where he took his seat and folded his hands again, all the while smiling. “Would you mind giving me a small refresher on this ‘shop’ and ‘point’ system you have access to?”

At first, as Emil began to hesitatingly explain how the shop system worked, he had no idea what the mayor was trying to get at. That would come soon after.

“I see. It is as I expected, then. And, pray tell, how many such points do you have?”

“Close to seven hundred thousand,” Emil said truthfully. “Enough to buy almost three million redroots.”

“Which,” the mayor concluded, “could feed the entire city for up to a month.”

Realization crept up on Emil with slick, cold fingers. “But I can’t possibly—”

“And your party members? How many points do they have?”

Emil held his tongue. In the corner of his eye, the party screen hung, annoyingly blatant.

Point count: 689 220 [View Status]

UrsulaUrsulot Lv.158 (CO-LEADER)

Point count: 1 294 441 [View Status]

You+Me+Her Lv.153

Point count: 592 044 [View Status]

FreeformJazz Lv.140

Point count: 701 313 [View Status]

RatAttack Lv.133

Point count: 312 901 [View Status]

Total Point count:

3 589 910 [Open Party Shop]>

Three and a half million points all and all. Not a bad amount, and a figure they had painstakingly worked at for close to three years now. However, not entirely. A few months back, when they first entered the city, they had done so with over five million points in tow. However, over the course of the past few months, those points had been siphoned away to feed the ever weakening population. The only thing restraining them from spending all of it was Ursula, who kept them in check by reminding them that these points were a strict necessity for their continuing efforts to beat the tutorial.

Guilt and shame reared in Emil’s chest, but he pushed it down. “Sir, as per my earlier explanation, we are in no place to use all of these points, as it would—”

“Three-quarters,” the mayor said. “Use three-quarters of what points you have and the city gates will remain closed.”

Sitting in that chair, in that room, Emil felt some small, critical aspect of himself drain away. Maybe it was his naivete. Or his pride. Either way, that very moment, he knew he had been duped. The mayor had known ever since he stepped inside the office that it would come to this. Emil felt his hands curl into fists atop his lap. He’d come in here hoping to talk, like two reasonable people might, and instead, he was met with a bargain. A trade offer. Tit for tat. Except that here, neither of them won or lost. Not really. The lives at play weren’t their own. All he had to lose were arbitrary, meaningless points, and all the mayor wanted to gain was reputation.

So, why did he hesitate? Why not agree to it? If the mayor had only asked behind closed doors, Emil would doubtlessly have agreed. Ursula might not have approved, but in the end, wasn’t he their party leader? They had entrusted him with their points, and now they were his to use. Was there any reason to not use them for the sake of the people?

And still, he couldn’t find it in himself to agree. Why? Simply because the mayor had approached him not with a plea, but with a demand? Was that enough to compel Emil to withhold his help?

Because if that was truly the case, then he was more prideful than he had previously thought.

Drawing a strained breath, Emil returned his eyes to the mayor. “...Two thirds,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Two thirds, and no more.”

The mayor smiled. “Done.” His gloved hand reached across the desk. After a moment’s reluctance, Emil took it. It was limp like a dead fish and the smooth, spidersilk glove left his hand feeling slippery. “I always knew you humans could be reasoned with.”

As Emil exited the mayor’s office, he felt the gaze of his friend linger at his back. “What?” Emil asked, shocked by how accusatory his own words felt. Behind him, Kitty stood, awkward and lanky in the cramped hallway. “Do you think I should have done something else? I wasn’t exactly in a space to negotiate. With all that, I was… I didn’t have any choice, you know. Politics… It’s complicated. If I’d agreed to give three quarters, he would’ve taken me for some kind of… I don’t know. So I had to bargain. Even if I normally wouldn’t mind giving points. But I had to. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

A mournful expression flickered across Kitty’s face. Carefully, the hunched man crept closer, as though he was afraid Emil might bite. A ridiculous notion, but not one Emil was in the mood to rectify. Soon, Kitty stood right next to him, his face set in an expression of uncertain befuddlement. “Why do you put up with him?”

Emil drew back. “Why do I…?” He shook his head. “I have to. Isn’t that obvious?”

Mirroring him, Kitty shook his head as well. “No, not really. I mean… Okay, I don’t know politics or anything, but… You send messages to the king every week. The king. If you just asked him to put you in charge, then I can’t see how the mayor would be able to disagree. It’s the king. Disagreeing would be the same as asking for an execution.” Something dark and apathetic lurched in Kitty’s eyes. “And on that note, maybe he—”

Emil held up his hand, quieting his friend. He glanced at the mayor’s closed door, just down the hall. “Please don’t suggest things like that. You’re right. You don’t understand politics.” Luckily enough, Kitty didn’t seem to take the statement badly. Emil drew a strained breath. “This is not the kind of situation that can be fixed by brute-forcing everything. If I took power, how would the people react? The mayor’s well-liked. I’m a human. King’s orders or no, should I try to encroach on his authority… There would be chaos.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. It was plain as day that Kitty simply didn’t understand what was so wrong about forcefully taking power.

“I can’t see how it matters,” Kitty muttered as they began descending the stairs. “All that matters is that they live, not whether they like their leader or whatever.”

“But it does matter,” Emil mumbled in reply. “It always matters.”

However, deep inside, he couldn’t help but wonder—did it really?