George Knows Best [Mud Wizard LitRPG]

Sunrise over the first city of the new world. Many had spent sleepless nights standing at the walls, propped up by hope and fear, their eyes glued to the leaderboard screen. They had followed Bob's rise in levels: thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, all the way up to twenty, higher even than the bandit king.

Maybe, just maybe he can do, they had said to themselves. Fallen Star Bob. Maybe, just maybe. They waited and they waited and the night as long as years dragged on and on. And both their names flickered on the screen and neither yet had fallen from his place.

They were still waiting when someone cried out, when someone pointed down and called, "he's back!" All eyes focused on the figure. A hooded man limbing towards the gate. His face, dark with blood. His every step, slow and tortuous as he dragged one leg behind the other. He looked up and saw the expectant crowd. He stared into their tired, harried faces, his people waiting for him, hoping for him. And he looked away. He bowed his head. He pretended not to see.

The gates ground open and a golden blur rushed out, barking and shouting. George battered into our proud man. And Bob let the stern mask fall away, the mask a leader shows his people. He was a man again, a wounded, suffering, hopeless man. He hugged George to him. Ali and Sophie had come up behind.

"We had to restrain him. Dog was in a frenzy. I thought he might burn his way out of the city to get to you."

Bob sobbed into George's fur. George cooed and soothed and licked Bob's face. But Bob couldn't stay there. In the golden warmth, the familiar smell, the doggy optimism. Bob had his duty, his responsibility; they were still waiting for an answer.

Bob tried to get up, but stumbled on the bad leg. Ali had a shoulder under him before he could topple over. Mighty leader indeed. Sophie stood cross armed, relieved, angry, disappointed. They both looked questioningly at him. And there was only one question in the world.

Bob couldn't meet their eyes. He started to speak, but choked and couldn't get the words out. He shook his head. No, no, no was the answer. He hadn't succeeded. The bandit king wasn't dead or dying. He was unharmed. Furious and just as powerful as ever. Bob had barely gotten away.

Their question was answered. Ali sighed and Sophie mumbled something that sounded awfully like I told you so. Then they set off towards the gates, Bob leaning all his weight on Ali's broad shoulders. It was a long way to the gate. And over them loomed the statue, half-complete, a giant golden head of a golden retriever, with George's stupid grin.

The whole city was there. They already knew of course. The system cannot lie. The Bandit King had not been defeated. Bob had skulked back, barely alive, weak and bleeding, his task unfulfilled. But they wanted to hear it from him anyway. The truth. They saw his ruined leg, his blinded eye, dried blood and dried mud. And they didn't see a hero. They didn't see an ordinary man, doing his best to live up to extraordinary times. They saw a failure.

Conor stepped out. This was going to be bad. Bob did his best to stand on his own, to look proud and tall. He tried anyway. Conor just smirked and started his address. He was a politician at heart. He could read the invisible feeling of the crowd and condense it down into a question.

"Glorious leader, you are returned to us. Many happy returns and much praise. So I take it, the bandit king is dead and we're all free?"

Bob gulped, looked down and said nothing.

"But glorious leader, surely you can't have returned here with your job half-done? You swore an oath. We all saw you. You swore to the little boy's father. The little boy you murdered.

Bob said nothing. Conor spat on the ground.

"This here man's a scoundrel. And he's doomed us all. Mark me words, that bandit king going to be on his tail and with an army to boot. Can he protect us? Can he even protect himself?

Nobody needed to answer. The answer was right there, in Bob's bloody face and blinded eye.

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"Gather the council, I say. It's our city, isn't it? We should get to choose our leaders."

The crowd roared in agreement. "Our city, our city, our city!"

"Down with the Mud Tyrant!"

Ali leaned close. "Don't worry, Bob. The council will side with you. He can say whatever he wants, but the only ones who can save us are you and that dog. I'm not the only one here who understands you killed seven levels worth of D-Rank bandits. What happened out there?"

"I, massacred, them."

"What?"

"You heard me. Forty, fifty even. Maybe more, I don't know. Two thirds of his army."

"You? How?"

Bob almost squeezed out a smile. "I'm stronger than I look."

"And the bandit king?"

Bob sighed and shook his head. "Too strong Ali, too strong. I couldn't touch him. I barely got away."

"You were probably mana dry. Think about it, you fought him and his whole army at the same time."

"No, Ali that's not it. He's too strong. I couldn't have taken him. Even one on one. He would have crushed me."

"Will he attack?" Sophie interjected.

"I don't think so. He's underestimated me once. How does he know it's not a trap? And his camp and army are in ruins. No, he'll go into hiding I think."

"And when he hears about the oath?"

Bob laughed darkly. "Well he'll wait for me to die, won't he?"

"Enough of that now, Bob. We'll think of something. Come along. The council needs to know about this. Two-thirds of his army! Bob, my man, what a rock! Two-thirds! This changes everything. The people need to know. They think you were defeated. I thought you were defeated. We should be shouting victory from the rooftops."

"I was defeated, Ali. Don't forget that. I was defeated."

"Ok, ok. But don't tell the council that right? You know, positive spin."

"Council later, first I have visit the father. And then Xenophon, maybe he can help somehow. Something we haven't thought of. Some secret. I don't know."

"Bob, we need you at the council. You're the governor. They won't listen to me."

"No, Ali. Let them wait. Conor was right. I killed that boy. I failed my oath. Take me to the father. I have to... I don't know... but I have to try..."

Sophie's expression darkened. Ali went pale.

"Dammit Bob. I didn't want to say anything just yet. Not now."

"Ali, what is it? What's happened?"

"It's Edward, the boy's father."

"Ali, tell me what happened."

"Dammit Bob. I don't think I should. You need your wits about you."

"Ali, speak!"

"We left him alone with the boy. He was his father. And he wouldn't say a word. He just sat there gaunt and cold. You couldn't be in the same room as him. Those empty eyes, Bob."

"And?" Bob's heart was racing. George was leaning his head into Bob's side, trying to calm him down. It wasn't helping. Ali wavered. "And?"

"Bob, it's not your fault."

"It is my fault!"

Ali was too soft. He couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't throw the last stone at a suffering man. Sophie could.

"Robert, he burned down the house. With himself and little George inside."

"Dead?"

No answer.

"Dead..." Bob echoed.

He shaped himself a chair out of the mud and sunk into it. "Dead..." He repeated the word to himself. George jumped up on his lap. But Bob couldn't see him. "Dead, dead, another one. Another one..."

"Bob, we need you at the council meeting. Who knows what Conor might do? Bob, we need you there."

"Dead, dead..."

"Snap out of it, Robert. We're all going to die if you can't pull yourself together."

"Dead, dead..."

"Sophie, bring him as quick as you can. I need to get there before they make any stupid decisions."

Ali ran off, leaving Sophie with their mumbling, glorious leader. She scowled at him. And the expression was something like despair, something like love and something like hatred.

"I told you, Robert. I told you to stay with me. Why wouldn't you listen?"

But Bob couldn't hear. He was past hearing now. He was trapped in his own head. In his own regrets. What do you do when the morning brings no new hope? What do you wait for? Who is going to save you when you're the one in the charge, the one who's supposed to be saving people? It had all gone wrong. It had all gone terribly wrong.

Sophie couldn't move him. She shouted at him. She whispered to him. She shook his shoulder. She held his hand. She slapped him across the face. Nothing helped. He just repeated that unfortunate word. "Dead? Dead, dead..." He said it like he was asking the question, and then answering it, and then trying to sit with the enormous weight of that answer.

George stayed with him. Dear old George. Loyal dog to his ruined master. George stayed and was silent, his head resting on Bob's feet. He wouldn't leave his master.

Bob was not going to the council meeting, Sophie decided. It was better that he didn't go. It was better that the council didn't see him like this. All broken and wretched. Sophie did the sensible thing. She went off to bring back a healer.

Healing powers worked even against mana injuries. The healer sat down with him and worked through his injuries. One by one, they sealed up. He was restored. His leg healed. His nose patched up. Even the scars were smoothed out. Only his slashed eye the healer couldn't restore. It drained of blood, but stayed cloudy, like his pupil was lost in a deep fog and couldn't find its way out.

The whole while Bob never moved. Sophie wondered if he'd ever leave that spot. Sophie wondered if he wouldn't die there and surrender them all into the power of the dark king.

Sophie didn't know what to do next.