George Knows Best [Mud Wizard LitRPG]

The city was not under attack. The bandit king had not assaulted the city.

Bob had raced out of the building, heading straight for the city walls, while Sophie evacuated to Bob's underground stronghold. Bob had been shouting and screaming and calling for news, and had managed to stir up quite a panic by the time he reached the sentry post and learned there was no bandit attack to speak of.

The city was not under attack. The bandit king had not assaulted the city. But there had been a fire. A fire in the only wooden building in all of Uruk. A fire in Sophie's house.

The cork pot stand had been stuck to the bottom of the pot. Bob had put it on the burner himself. Cork is slow to burn, but a sustained flame will do the job eventually. A flaming segment had floated down and away, and landed on some of the dry wood. The rest was chemistry.

By the time Bob made it back to the structure, there was nothing left. Ashes, dust and smoke. Sophie's beautiful, brand new home was burned to the ground. Of course, at that very moment, Sophie had "conveniently" reemerged from the bunker, just in time to confront poor Bob.

Bob did his best. He was a fighter. He spun an elaborate tale of targeted sabotage; he painted a picture of an anti-capitalist uprising. It was a first-rate yarn. A good gripping story. Sophie didn't buy it. Sophie could see into the heart of things. Sophie knew how to swear and she knew when to swear.

Bob boldly bore the abuse. He tried a smile. He suggested most reasonably that they continue their date at Bob's place. He would buy them some takeout from the system shop. Another bottle maybe. Sophie had laughed, cursed seven generations of his seed and told him to approach her at his peril.

Yes, the date had not gone as planned, Bob reflected bitterly as he nursed a mug of golden beer. He'd stumbled shellshocked into the local tavern, The Golden Paw. There had been no cheering. No "welcome Mr. Bob." No, the bartender had insisted the noble governor pay for his drinks in advance.

Bob downed his beer. "Barkeep, fill her up please."

The large, bearded, aproned barkeep, possessor of a minor cooling ability, grunted his acknowledgment and drew out a pint of Magic Beer. Magic Beer was the system's signature brand.

Bob sipped the beverage and sighed. Somehow it didn't taste as good as he remembered.

Unfortunately, his sigh proved a smidge too audible, because another patron took notice of Bob's melancholy and decided to occupy the neighboring stool.

"What's bothering our fallen star Bob?"

The man was definitely not on his first drink. Nor was Bob for that matter. Bob was pretty far off the deep end. Bob gave the man a black look and flicked up his hood. Alas, the fire of friendliness is strong. The man just chuckled and slapped our hero on the back.

"Tell Connor what's on your mind."

Bob groaned incoherently.

"The leaderboard?"

Bob shook his head.

"The talk of electing George as new governor"

Bob shook his head.

"The bandits?"

Bob shook his head.

"You can't sleep?"

Bob shook his head.

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"I've got it. Lady troubles."

Bob tried to shake his head, but couldn't manage it.

"Don't you worry. She'll come around in the end." He said with zero context and no familiarity with Sophie's personality.

Somehow Bob felt a little better. He half nodded to himself.

"There you go. Listen to Conor, eh? Here toast with me."

Bob toasted with the man. They both drank deep and long.

"I know just what'll do ya. You need a funny story."

Yes, the man was right. Bob needed a laugh. Something light-hearted and with an obvious punchline. Bob was starting to like this Conor. A good, friendly man.

"Don't you worry. I've got the perfect story for you."

Bob leaned closer, his woes already starting to fade. Conor spoke well. He was a capital chap. He'd come all the way over just to cheer Bob up.

"It's from back in the before eh? I was always a bit of a joker meself. Now one day a chum of mine, he shows me this funny app he's found."

Conor stopped to sip on his beer. He screwed up his face as he tried to remember.

"What was the name again? I'm a poor head for names. Something to do with reptiles... How did it go... Something snake, or tortoise maybe." He snapped his fingers: "The Lazyback Lizard!"

Bob sat up a little straighter. It couldn't be right?

"It was some wierd-ass reptile fetish community. You know how screwed up people get. These lads would sit around all day and send pictures of reptiles to each other. Me chum showed me some of the forum messages. These guys were out of their heads. Arguing over whether it was this snake or that snake or some bastard child of them both."

Bob was nodding. What the man said was true. Most true. The shelly community had been full of crazy people. It was a scary place for an ordinary person to wander around in.

"Now me chum is a bit of tech wizard. And he and I thought it be funny to spook em a little you know. Nothing horrible mind. A small practical joke. A dummy bug ticket. You know write it all aggressive like, make it seem like the end of world."

Bob sat there in silence.

"We picked out the two most similar emojis we could find. And then he doctored up a short clip to make it look like one had been switched with the other. Oh man, it was priceless. You should have seen the message customer service sent us. They were groveling, mate. I mean begging for our forgiveness."

Bob wasn't laughing as much as Conor had thought he should.

"Bob, I don't think you're getting it. Just imagine for a moment with me. Come here," Conor put an arm around Bob's shoulder and painted the picture with his hands, "somewhere in that company, there was a quality assurance engineer, who must have spent hours, hours and hours, staring at two different but nearly identical emoji, looking for a bug that never even existed. Isn't that glorious? That's a picture that will cheer a man up eh? I always like to think to myself, well at least I'm not that bloke."

Bob threw off the man's arm and towered to his feet. "It was you! You fucking monster."

"What's gotten into you Bob?"

"That quality assurance engineer was me."

"Oh..." Conor frowned, tilted his head to the side, shrugged and sipped his beer, "you've got to admit it's still pretty funny."

Bob swung at the man. Conor ducked. It wasn't his first bar fight. Conor ducked, stepped back and kicked a stool at Bob. Bob took it in the groin and keeled over. Rank D does not cure a man of his anatomical weak point.

But Bob was a fighter. He was back on his feet, swaying sure, but on his feet. Harry started to float menacing around him. Today was a good day. Bob's long standing enemy, the Russian Trojan Turtle bug, had been made visibly manifest and practically assailable in the form of this Conor. Bob would beat the man black and blue.

Ping!

Citywide Crime Notification - Attempted Battery

Perpetrator - Robert Brown

Location - The Golden Paw

Summary of Events -

Robert Brown was in a state of inebriation, reportedly distressed over a recent romantic disappointment. The victim, Conor O'Conor, approached Mr. Brown with the intention of offering consolation through the sharing of a humorous anecdote.

Contrary to Mr. O'Conor's intentions, Mr. Brown became agitated and, without provocation, attempted to strike Mr. O'Conor. The assault was unsuccessful, resulting in no harm to Mr. O'Brain, and only minor injuries to Mr. Brown.

Please report to your nearest government building to await your trial.

At that very moment, the pub's door burst open and several people fell through and piled on the floor. Ali was in the lead, pushing his way out of the bodies.

"Bob, we've been searching for ya. You're going to want to see this. A bad business. Awful stuff."

Ali paused for a moment to check the sudden notification.

"Bob, did you just start a fight?"

"N-no," Bob slurred, "th' syshtem's out t' get me."

Ali looked at the empty beer glass in front of Bob. Ali observed the smashed barstool. Ali noted the wary, uninjured Conor.

"You started a fight and you bloody lost it?"

Ali shook his head and muttered three familiar words to himself. Bob didn't need to hear to know what they were: fallen, star, Bob.

"George above. Pull yourself together Bob. No time for this. Look we'll stop at city hall on the way. Just come with me."