George Knows Best [Mud Wizard LitRPG]

Title - Exile

From your own city no less.

major decrease to will

general decrease in trustworthiness

(Reclaim city within thirty days to remove)

Sophie was in bad mood. A right stinker. A towering, evil mood. The kind of mood that has its own gravity, the mood-sink that swallows up all nearby moods and infects them with its own grouchiness. She skulked along, pausing dramatically every few steps to give Bob a dirty look, shake her head at the dog, and sigh woe is to me to the winds.

See, Sophie had asked herself why everything always went wrong for her. It didn't make sense. She was a creative, attractive and personable young woman. She possessed a sound business sense. She had an eye for markets and people. She had been on top of the world. The toast of the town. A national treasure. The queen of the city. And now? All gone, lost, cast to the winds; she had been exiled to wander the desert with a hagged, hooded man and his over-cheerful dog. And why? Well, Sophie had hit upon a simple and compelling explanation, and its name was Robert Brown.

Robert Brown had time after time ignored her advice and steered the ship of state into whirlpool after whirlpool. Sophie had warned Robert about the banditry criss—he had ignored her. Sophie had warned Robert about going all humanist on the refugees (people are evil at heart)—he had ignored her. Robert Brown had willfully burned down her house. Robert Brown had named their city after a comic-book. Robert Brown had jumped a harmless pub-goer. And it was Robert Brown who had plunged their city into its current crisis. First, by leaving without even saying goodbye, then by committing himself to the most baboon and self-evidently stupid oath imaginable, and finally by not even following through on his stupid oath.

Yes, now that Sophie considered the facts, she hadn't put a toe out of line. It was all unmistakably Robert's fault. She was a hapless victim of association. Exiled as Robert's supposed lover. And no doubt it was Robert himself who had spread about those rumors they were dating. They were most certainly not dating. She would never date a lifeless, brainless oath like him.

Sophie scowled at Bob. Bob scowled back.

"It's all your fault."

"I know, Sophie. You've told me already."

"Humph!"

"Bloody hell, Sophie, what do you want from me? I'm dead on my feet as is. I haven't had a wink in two straight days. I'm just an ordinary guy. I'm no one special. I worked in QA. I lived in a dumpy studio apartment. You know what I had to do today? Do you really? Honestly, do you actually understand?"

Sophie turned away and started marching forward. She didn't want to listen. She didn't want to understand. She was right and Bob was wrong. Too many words would just muddy the clear and simple truth.

"Sophie, I've had to watch little children die in front of me. I've had to kill people. Humans, Sophie, and not one or twice, or in self-defense. No, Sophie, I've cut down people in their sleep. With these hands."

Bob stared at his own palms. He was remembering things better left unremembered.

"It's not easy, Sophie. I didn't want to do it. I thought I had to. I thought that was the only way. And after everything, I stagger back to my own city, bleeding, weary, heartbroken. And you know what happens? You know how they greeted me?"

Sophie was ten paces away from Bob. Bob shouted after her.

"Everybody hates me! Hates me, Sophie! And you're just the same. You blame me. Why? Because I tried my best, because I did all I could. I'm just one guy, Sophie. I'm just some nobody. I stagger back to my own city, and they are mobbing me in the streets. They are beating you on the ground and carting off George in a cage. Sophie, they wanted to execute me! Execute me?"

Sophie swiveled on him and screamed back.

"You abandoned me, Robert! I asked you to stay. I begged you. I, Sophie Blanchet, begged you. 'For me, Robert, don't go, for me,' I said. And you went all the same. You don't care for little Sophie. And in the city, when they were surrounding us, I looked into your eyes and I pleaded with you. 'Robert protect me, I need you.' And you didn't wake up. You didn't protect me."

Her voice had spiked with anger and then fallen into tears and sobbing.

"Sophie, I'm sorry."

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"No, Robert, I am sorry. I never should have trusted you. I thought I knew that already, but I'm a stupid girl who must learn her lessons twice. I can't rely on you. I can't trust you to keep me safe."

"Look, I'll do everything I can. Like I always have."

"Robert, I don't believe you. Not anymore."

"Sophie, dammit. Don't tell me you're going to go off on your own."

She laughed bitterly.

"I wish. I wish I could. I wish I was like you and the dog. I wish I was strong, Robert. But I'm weak. That's what hurts the most. I'm so weak. I'm helpless. Those people kicking me down were E-Rankers. E-Rankers, Robert. You threw them around like they were children. I can't defend myself. No Robert, I won't be going off on my own. I hate it, but I need you."

The whole while George had been whining and pacing between them, trying to calm them down, imploring Bob to go easy, and entreating Sophie to try and understand. But the two tall humans had ignored him. They shouted over his head. But now Sophie was crying and George padded cautiously forward. He nuzzled up to Sophie's side.

She swatted him away. Bob flared up.

"Why have you got to be like that? Sophie, he's just trying to be there for you. He just wants to help. Be angry with me. Shout at me. I've messed up. I know. I get. But don't take it out on George. What has George ever done to you?"

"He's a dog, Robert. He's just a dog. An animal. A brute. He doesn't really understand. I'm not going to bare my heart to some stupid beast that only thinks about his stomach. Sophie Blanchet has not fallen so low."

"Take it back, Sophie. Take it back. That's George we're talking about. George."

"He's not my George! He doesn't even like me. He hasn't liked me from the beginning. Only me! To everyone else he wags his tail, he smiles and plays, but not with me."

"Look at how you treat him. You've snubbed him ever since the first day you met. You think he can't tell? You think he doesn't know what you think of him?"

"He's a dog!"

"Dammit Sophie!"

George had backed away. He was cowering and shivering. The humans were shouting and he kept hearing his own name. Bob crouched down beside him. He rain his fingers through the dog's golden fur.

"It's alright, George. It's alright, George. Don't worry, old boy. I'm here for you. Bob's going nowhere."

"Argh! And I am trapped with you. Trapped! I hate it. But if I go off alone, I'll be dead before morning. Some wandering monster. A company of bandits. Maybe I'll fall in a river and drown."

Bob steadied his breath. "Sophie, I'm sorry. I don't want to argue. Look, it's already evening. Let's find somewhere to set up camp. We need some food in us. Let's sit down, take it easy and think about our options."

She didn't argue, but she didn't respond. She just walked on ahead. Bob figured that was about the best he could hope for with a proud woman like her. They found a quiet hollow and Bob set up a mud dome. They trooped inside and George unloaded their furniture.

Sophie threw herself into a chair. She said nothing and just sat there with her head propped up on her elbow, staring into space. She looked like she was thinking evil thoughts. Bob decided a spot of English hospitality couldn't hurt. He brewed a cup of tea and set it down in front of her with a few biscuits on the saucer.

She might have nodded her head; it was hard to tell the movement was so slight. Maybe Bob imagined it. She didn't drink. She just continued sitting there, pointedly ignoring the beverage as it steamed invitingly. Finally, after a full minute and a half, Sophie caved and sipped the amber liquid. Bob tried not to sigh.

He had made himself a strong, black tea. Caffeine and he were going to become bosom friends. Anything that would help him pull another all-nighter was a welcome tonic. The struggle was real. He was grown languid and dazed. His mood was all shot. He was finding it hard to think straight. He nearly dozed off where he sat.

Yes, that settled it, he would have to go looking for the bandit king tomorrow. He ought to go tonight once the others had fallen asleep. But he just didn't have the stomach to tell Sophie he was "abandoning her again." Not to mention, he'd really fancy some golden retriever backup.

Bob ordered system takeout. Sophie didn't make conversation. And Bob had to carry the conversational burden alone. He tried to prattle charmingly, searching for anecdotes that might catch her interest. In the end, he landed on the story of the Turtle Code.

The shelly community (for no good reason) had painstakingly crafted a language of turtles in the manner of the language of flowers. For example, the Loggerhead Sea Turtle, known for its solitary and lonely habits, symbolized grief and loss. Or the Desert Tortoise, with its slow and deliberate gait, represented patience and resilience. The forums overflowed with turtle-speak and there was even a passable, if abstract translation of Romeo and Juliet in the language.

Bob smiled shyly, gave Sophie a sidelong glance, hesitated a breath, and then whispered:

"Eastern Box Turtle, Green Sea Turtle."

He waited for Sophie to ask him what the phrase meant. He waited in vain. She didn't humor him. And after they just sat on in silence.

Was this what their relationship was going to be like moving forward? Bob didn't hate Sophie. He liked her. He liked the way she wouldn't back down, how she could look out for herself, how she was always trying to be better. Time, Bob said to himself. They just needed more time. They would get through all this.

Sophie rose suddenly to her feet, "I need to be alone for a bit."

The night rain had started up.

"It's pouring out there. Don't you think you should stay?"

"I need to be alone."

Bob bit his lip. He didn't like the idea. Things had a tendency of going wrong.

"Ok. I get it. Just don't go too far."

Sophie nodded silently and walked out into the rain. Bob watched her go. Should he go after her? She said she wanted to be alone. Bob understood that. Maybe he should go anyway. No, no, that's not how you built a relationship. Trust, space. Bob had to take the first step.

A long, empty night stretched ahead of Bob. George was already snoring in his bed. It might have been unbearable, except... Bob reached inside his inner cloak pocket. There it was. His copy of Jonny the Man. And beside it, book two. Tea with a zone rank boss, bah, Bob scoffed. They were underestimating him.

Bob was just coming up on the climax of the first novel. Exciting, exciting, exciting. He simply couldn't imagine a better way to pull an all-nighter. It's the little pleasures that make life bearable.