The Path to Nottingham II

Rumble Rumble! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

A cloud of dust appeared around the turn of the road. Pete saw hooves riling up dust and gravel. However, they were not monster hooves. They belonged to:

Horses!

Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

Rumble Rumble!

A horse carriage emerged from the cloud, heading down the path. The steeds were taller and healthier than earthly breeds, and Pete suspected they were not ordinary animals. There was so much to learn about the world and its gameplay.

The horse carriage was made of luxurious, polished wood with intricate carvings. It looked like something out of the Victorian era.

Pete realized that the progress of technology could be different in the game. Moreover, there must be a magical system in place, considering the fantasy game elements he had encountered. Without such a system, Morrigan's miracles would not be possible.

Every game had rules, and he needed to figure out the gameplay.

Clip-clop!

Neigh!

The coachman reined the horses, and the carriage came to a shuffling halt in front of him.

"Which land are you from, commoner?" the coachman asked rather rudely. He brought out a walking cane and poked at Pete's chest.

"What is it to you, old man?" the boy replied in the same tone. "Be on your way!" he added, swatting at the coachman's cane. Pete usually avoided confrontations, but the effect of 'perfect gene' attribute still lingered, making him overconfident.

The boy's voice sounded both masculine and endearing, to his surprise. His regular voice used to be croaky and unpleasant.

Perhaps the genetic transformation had instilled quality in his vocal cords? Did it also reform his attitude towards the world? Was that too far-fetched to expect from a magical system?

When Pete was alive in the real world, he was constantly tired and hungry. The boy had pasty skin and was easily irritated. It resulted from a bad diet, lack of exercise, and crippling addiction to gaming and porn.

Now the reformed and reconstructed Pete felt as if he could take over the world. He felt like talking down to one and all. Even though part of him was pleased to see a human face after a very long time. Morrigan was friendly but not unpleasant to look at.

Pete's words had offended the coachman. The old man ground his teeth and picked up his whip. "How dare you, commoner?! Vermin! I'll flay you for this!"

"Enough, Gilbert!" an authoritative voice commanded from inside the carriage.

The coachman replaced his whip and got down to attend to his master. "Apologies, sir!"

The coach door opened, and an elegantly dressed man jumped out. He looked like he was in his late twenties- at the prime of his life. Brown, curly hair set over a square face gave him a charming aspect. A rapier sword hung over his belt, and the royal sigil was embroidered on his sleeves.

The coachman eyed Pete with spurn and spoke up. "You should feel privileged, commoner! You are in the presence of Sir Guy of Gisbourne, a silver templar and a royal mage of renown."

Pete did not know how to respond. Was he royalty?

The boy just dipped and bowed. Surprisingly, his salutation form was entirely accurate. There was a grace and flourish to his movement.

"Ah, what a fine young man you are!" Guy exclaimed in a cheerful voice. "Excuse my boorish servant. He seems to have missed your fine clothes and mannerisms. You are certainly well-bred and raised by noble parents. As one among the gentry, I ask your name, station, and purpose."

Pete licked his lips and thought the question over. The roleplay was going to be difficult. Wasn't the game supposed to give him a backstory? Somehow, he had to get his account straight and make it convincing. He had a gut feeling that Guy was his ticket to doing well in Nottingham.

'Royal Mage' and 'Silver Templar' sounded like important positions.

"I am just a simple traveler, sir," Pete began. I've traveled all over the country in search of adventure and glory. They call me Rob-" It occurred to Pete that Robin Hood was an anti-hero in the ballads and acted against the government. Giving out his character's name to a royal knight would be unwise.

"I'm Rob, sir…"

"Rob? That's a fine name!" Guy interrupted. "One of my dear cousins is named so. Which place did you visit last, Rob?"

Pete had learned of only two towns from the direction pole. "I have come through Derby."

The Templar raised an eyebrow. His smiling face faltered. "Derby, you say? Then answer me this, Rob. Why did you not stay there longer? Surely, Derby is a town you visit when there is nowhere else to go."

Pete realized his memory was sharper. He recalled the words etched on the direction sign board.

"I… uh… I went there intending to stay but changed my mind. Nottingham, the home of adventurers, blessed by King Richard the Lionheart, appeals to me better.

Guy's smile returned as if it were never gone. "Perfect! I thought so! Will you be taking part in the trials, then? Surely a young man of your fitness and stature must have high aspirations!"

"The trials, sir?"

"The trials, my boy. I see... the bitter folks of Derby did not share the news with you. The town of Nottingham conducts champion trials annually. If you pass, you get a commendation from the Sheriff. Most champions of past years have gone on to become bronze or silver knights."

Pete racked his brains and figured it would help level up fast and acquire equipment. A major game event.

"Sir, you must be a mind-reader! That is exactly why I am headed to Nottingham. I wish to be tested in the champion trials. However, to be honest, my knowledge on the subject is minimal."

"Excellent!" Guy exclaimed. He placed an arm around Pete and led him towards the coach. "Come with me, Rob! I have been invited to judge the trials. I'll drop you off at the town square! And perhaps share a few unbiased pointers with you on the way."

Pete heard the words 'town square,' and the first thing that occurred to him was- 'THE CHECKPOINT!'

"I will be grateful, Sir!" he answered, stepping into the vehicle.