A Gamer's Guide To Beating The Tutorial

A week passed. Emil still hadn’t cried.

“Yes, the first of March works with me,” Emil said, taking a sip of his clarea of water. The spiced honey used for this pot was borrowed from the mayor’s pantry, though it wasn’t the best he’d had.

Still, it was high enough in quality to make the fact that Rat hadn’t touched it a bit of a shame. The slim man was currently sitting opposite Emil’s mayoral desk, tapping his foot and glancing between the cup and Kitty, who’s still holding the tray he served it from. “You’re sure you’ll come? As I said, it’s her funeral, so if you don’t show up, Sully will curse you for sure.”

“Yes, I’ll come,” Emil repeated, with added enunciation this time. “Her wake was…” Bitter shame bubbled up in his chest and he put his cup back down. “I was in shock. And I’ve apologized. Going to work… it was a coping mechanism. We both know that.”

“Heh, yeah,” Rat said, his anxious gaze hopping between Emil and his cup of clarea. “Of course. Everything’s fine. Whatever. But, seriously… Putting everything about the funeral on us is not…” The look on Emil’s face made Rat twitch. “Sorry. I know, being a mayor is, and you’ve apologized, but it’s just…”

Reaching out, Emil put his hand atop Rat’s. He was trembling. Emil mustered a smile. “Hey,” he said. “Relax. Sure, I’m working a lot, but… So are you. So are all of us.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I… I know.”

Emil pulled back his hand, balling it into a fist as he did. As he did, his eyes fell on the day’s schedule, lying half-buried beneath a mound of other similar papers. But he could tell that Kitty wrote this one, because the handwriting was atrocious. Lunch with Judgess Juni Farette. Fika with Father Toolheart. Dinner with Trade Union Leader Pon son of Gith. When was the last time he’d had dinner with the rest of his party? When had they last met, all of them, and done something that wasn’t work-related? Even as of before Ursula fell sick… He couldn’t really recall. Maybe for his birthday.

“We’ll get through this,” Emil said, resolutely. “No matter what.” He smiled at Rat. “Sully wouldn’t have wanted us to fail before even entering Paradise.”

And now, finally, Rat smiled back at him. “Yeah. That’s… that’s right.” He took a light sip of his clarea. Emil let him drink, taking a sip of his own cup in the meantime. “There’ll be a wake afterwards,” Rat said. “A proper one. Not like… Not like that one. You told us that we could plan it however we wanted, so we set up a table for five at the Giggling Fiend at eight, after the funeral.”

“For five? But—” Realization hit Emil and he smiled. Funnily enough, Kitty didn’t seem to have noticed. Then again, he had a tendency for getting so into his role that he didn’t listen to a word being spoken in the room. Emil smiled warmly at Rat and bowed his head. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

Rat smiled back at him, slightly bashful. “It’s nothing. At least not when compared to your idea of turning her gem into pendants for us all to carry.”

Modest to a fault, Emil turned away. It was only obvious, after all. The very concept of being able to carry her with them, all the way back home, was too obvious not to go through with. He’d met with one of the city’s finest jewelers, and in exchange for a small favor, the pendants were finished.

It was all so simple. For once, Emil felt on top of it. Sure, people were still dying, and everything with Ursula still hung over him, but… He felt confident that they’d get through it. Not everyone cried about these kinds of things, after all. His dad hadn’t cried at his uncle’s funeral. Everyone reacts in their own ways, and everyone mourns in their own ways. Emil barely thought about what had happened, himself. He had practically moved on already.

But his friends still needed time. And this funeral would give them just that. So, he wasn’t really attending for his own sake, but rather for theirs.

In the week remaining until her funeral, Emil prepared himself by visiting a tailor, where he received a custom-made, well-polished suit perfectly fitted for the occasion. With some verbal guidance from Plus, he set up the matter of flowers for the funeral with a florist, who initially recommended black flowers. It took close to an hour for Emil to explain that where they came from, funeral flowers should be white, something the florist found beyond perplexing. With only a few days left, he picked up the pendants… what remained of her. The gem had been carved into four equal pieces, fitted to be placed inside a dawn silver locket. The gem was hardly weak enough to fully justify the security, but Emil had a feeling that the effort would be well appreciated by his friends.

And still, even while holding her, it still didn’t feel real. It was just a gem. Nothing more, nothing less.

Until the funeral, he kept the pendants in his inventory.

And then came the fated day.

“It’s what she wrote in her will, so we really have no choice, but…”

“Didn’t she warm up to him in the last few weeks?”

“I don’t know. I would expect so, but…” Jazz turned to look at Kitty. “Can you recall if she made any addendums to her will and testament? Like, for example, if she mumbled that she changed her mind and would actually be okay with you attending her funeral?”

“No, not really,” Kitty said with a shrug. “Besides, I don’t really mind. I wasn’t all that close to her, so I didn’t have any desire to attend the funeral to begin with. As long as her will doesn’t state that I’m not allowed to be within ten metres of the church, I’ll be happy to stay out here and keep an eye on the exits. You never know who might want to spoil the party.”

Emil turned to Jazz, whose eyes moved to look at an undetermined spot in front of her eyes. Emil did the same thing, pulling up the note he kept containing Sully’s will and testament. As per their agreement, everyone had sent one of these to everyone else, who had then saved it to their notes for safekeeping, since their profile and messages would be deleted upon death.

stuff to SuperMoleman, including points &

inventory stuff & whatever. As for my body,

uhhhh … honestly just leave me or whatever

I assume I get killed by something so

let it eat my body IDC. Do wtvr for my funeral.

Signed, Myriam Sanson

ADDENDUM A33:

If I die while he’s around dont fucking let

PrissyKittyPrincess attend my funeral

TBH I’m pretty sure if I die while he’s around

then he did it and I hope you sue his ass off 4 it OK

but if you can’t get a lawyer then just smack him around

a bit & film it & put it on youtube once you’re back on earth.

THX>

In a sense, Emil supposed, they would already be unable to fulfill at least one or two of her requests, so letting Kitty attend wouldn’t actually change much. Nevertheless, her will had been extremely adamant on this point, so the fact that Kitty was okay with it was a bit of a lifesaver. Emil glanced up to look at him. Much like Emil, Kitty was well-dressed in all black, save for a white jabot, which was only marginally paler than the man’s face. Oddly enough, the look suited him well. Emil turned to look at Jazz. She was dressed in her full combat gear, complete with her leather pelerine and staff. So far, Emil had been unable to muster the courage to ask why she wasn’t properly dressed. Either way, shaking off the thoughts, Emil returned his attention to the matter at hand. “The will only states that you aren’t allowed to attend it. There’s nothing about vicinity to the church or anything.”

“Great! In that case, I’ll keep a look out, and you guys will do your business. Sounds great to me.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Emil said. He let his eyes move to look at the church. It was rather small and constructed almost entirely from wood, a detail he was sure had something to do with it being the church of the God of Will. The small size of the church made it perfectly fit for their small gathering—and the proximity to the Giggling Fiend certainly didn’t hurt. With little else to do, Emil took a peek at the clock.

<14:56:04

Day 1 155>

14:09:03:56>

Since there were still a few more minutes until they were supposed to meet, Emil continued talking with Jazz. A little later, both Rat and Plus showed up together—the both of them clad in their combat gear. And all of a sudden, Emil felt very alone.

Plus smiled warmly at him as they approached. “Hey, glad you could make it! Seems like…” His eyes fell on Emil’s outfit. “Oh, that’s… Didn’t you see the message?”

Emil was very close to biting his own tongue off. “What message?”

“A week back we decided to wear our combat gear, as a show of solidarity. I sent you a message, but…”

Freezing cold shame crackled through Emil’s veins. “I—I’ve been so busy, I must have missed it, I’m so sorry, I can go get changed if that’s—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” Plus’ smile widened slightly. “Besides, it’s not like your combat gear is all too dissimilar to this, right?”

Despite not feeling an ounce of humor, Emil met Plus’ laugh evenly. “No, I guess not.” As he tried to calm his wildly beating heart, his attention fell, purely by coincidence, on Rat. And Rat, in stark opposition to his usual rowdy self, merely smiled up to him, his eyes shining with gratefulness.

Emil smiled back at him, glad to be there.