Rimelion: The Exploiter

47. The Selfie Bandits

What? They recorded that? Of course Riker did. I shouldn't trust him easily.

"Do you still have the Spear of Destiny?" the bulky warrior—Greg, apparently—blurted out, his earlier resentment completely forgotten. His eyes sparkled with admiration, which was deeply unsettling coming from someone who looked like he could bench-press a beer barrel.

"I heard you soloed Goolem boss! Is that true? Raking marks it as rumour!" the mage added, practically bouncing on her heels now.

"You're way prettier in person," Greg added awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze darted everywhere but at me.

"Greg, stop being weird," the rogue muttered, elbowing him.

I raised a hand weakly, trying to ward off the avalanche of attention. "Uh, thanks, I guess?"

"Wait, wait!" the mage interrupted, grabbing her staff and holding it out toward me. "Can you sign this? Like, with magic?"

"Magic autographs don't work!" Greg groaned. "They fade after a week!"

"She doesn't have time for this!" the leader barked, trying to regain some semblance of control. The moment he locked eyes with me, I could see it—the flicker of awe he was trying to hide.

"Wait," the rogue said suddenly, pointing at my still-dripping robes. "Why were you in the stream? Like, in it?"

I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Mud. Wolves. Long story."

"Must be quite the story," the mage giggled, as though we were old friends sharing an inside joke.

"Alright," I said firmly, taking a step back and raising both hands to create space. "Look. Stuff to do. So maybe—"

"Can we party with you?" the mage asked, her eyes sparkling.

"No," I said immediately, shaking my head. This wasn't what I asked for when I was reminiscent of having nobody to go with.

"Pleeease?"

"Still no."

"You're so cool!" Greg blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. "True Ice Princess!"

This is why I prefer going alone.

"I'm on a very important quest. Solo. Sorry," I said firmly, glancing at their hopeful faces. The spark of excitement in their eyes dimmed almost instantly, and the crushing disappointment was practically tangible.

Ugh. Why do they have to look so pitiful?

"But!" I raised my hand, stopping their crushed spirits in their tracks. An idea formed—something that would let them feel important. If my ungrateful friend Lucas ever decides to return, maybe he'd learn a thing or two about gratitude.

I reached into my inventory, pulling out an enchanting paper, its surface glinting faintly in the sunlight. With quick strokes, I jotted a note on it, careful to phrase it just right. Then, slipping off my ring, I pressed it to the parchment, leaving an official seal that glowed before fading into the paper.

[This company is under the service of Princess Charlie. Captain of guards, please grant them a quest of importance.]

I handed it to the mage, who accepted it with trembling hands like it was a holy relic.

"I own East Fortification," I explained, my tone taking on Irwen's regal edge. "Go there. Hand this over. There will be a gigantic battle in a few days—weeks, tops. Be ready. Fight on my side." With every moment, my confidence grew, and I could get out a few more words.