I Don’t Want to Start a Story!

“I guess so.” Max took a seat at the mahogany table with the dragon statue. He kept his posture straight and adhered to the manners as instructed by Bessie. Usually, it was common courtesy for people like them to play dumb to one another, but clearly the mayor had other plans. Now would be a bad time to suddenly be declared a troublemaker. One arguably murder-like death in the village could be overlooked. But two? He would have to work hard to make sure it looked like old age finally took him if it came to that.

“Reymond!” The mayor shouted, causing the knight to jump. “Go tell that useless son of mine to bring us the black tea I prepared earlier.” Max was thankful that the old mayor had been wise enough to not bring it himself. His shaky and weak hands would have spilled the tea and made him miss out on a rare luxury for a helper on a dairy farm. The pair waited for the knight to leave out of earshot before continuing their conversation. “This might be a big surprise for you, but-”

“You’re just like me. You’re from another world. I’m assuming you’ve already finished your story’s goal and are just waiting to die before starting your next one.”

“So, another one will just be waiting for me?” The mayor took a relaxed seat opposite Max. His answer caused him to raise an eyebrow. Didn’t the mayor know? “Forgive this old man,” he gave a wheezy laugh. “Ah, it’s been a long day. I usually have my nap around now.”

“Sounds nice.” At any other time, Max would have been waiting in anticipation with most of the village in case it was the exhausted mayor’s final breath. Now, he had no doubt the bet would carry on for longer than anticipated. Maybe he should place another bet?

The atmosphere was awkward and stiff between them as they tried to size each other up. “Now, Max. How many times-” The question died in his mouth when they heard a knock at the door.

“Dad?” The mayor’s son opened the door fully without much consideration. “I brought the tea! I had just finished baking a cake, so I…” His jovial voice eventually fell flat as he read the tense atmosphere of the room. “I’ll… just put this here.” He placed the tray with two tea sets, a pot of tea, and two thick slices of a sickly-looking cake down between them.

Just when he was about to excuse himself, his father barked at him. “You expect us to pour the tea? Where are your manners?”

“Right.” With two hands carrying the teapot, tea shakily spilled out of the spout. The dark tea covered the tray, slices of cake, and the saucers. Only a miniscule amount ended up in the cups. The mayor’s son stared at his handiwork for a couple of seconds. “I’ll go get another pot of tea.”

“No need. See yourself out.” The mayor gave a tired sigh as he rubbed his temples. Max begrudgingly finished his two sips of tea as they waited for the mayor’s son to leave and for the real conversation to continue between them. After putting down his cup, his left hand took out the pocketknife that he had used to carve the magic bones earlier that day and began fidgeting with it.

“You didn’t know that more of the same will be waiting for you?” Max asked quickly before the mayor could resume his original question. Something wasn’t quite right about the situation. He suspected what it could be but didn’t want to fully admit it was the case yet.

“I’ve only met a few who were able to make it to the end before.” There it was. “This is my first time being able to complete a story.” Even worse than he had expected. “Only a one-star, but I managed to make it to the end.” It took him multiple attempts at a one-star? Those were only dangerous if you fought against the system or tried to skip the subsidiary goals or requirements to progress the story.

“How many attempts has it taken for you to complete a one-star?”

“Hmm…” The old man’s real age was becoming apparent to Max. “Thirty-six?”

“Thirty-six?” Max repeated to confirm what he had heard was correct. “It took you thirty-six attempts to complete your first one-star?”

The decrepit mayor gave a hideous cackle. “Not bad, eh? Well thirty-six attempts at doing one-star stories. All the others had been at a higher difficulty.” The mayor heard Max whisper something, but his ears were failing him. He could’ve sworn he heard the young farmhand murmur ‘novice.’ “But don’t get too bogged down on the number of attempts. What about you then? Ever managed to complete a story?”

Max let out a tired sigh. He had expected too much after seeing the familiar symbol carved into the mural hanging over them. The mayor must’ve been lucky in his previous lives, even if he wasn’t able to make it all the way to the end. “Two one-stars-”

“We have a professional I see.” The mayor blurted in a mixture of admiration and enthusiasm. It seemed like he had been waiting for a long time to talk to someone ‘experienced’ like them. Perhaps that was why he made himself the mayor of a strange village where troublemaking amnesiacs tended to appear. “For each of them, did you-”

“One three-star.” Max continued without paying much mind to the man in front of him. His interest in the conversation had faded greatly within the last few seconds.

“A three-star? That’s certainly something. Tell me, what kind of story-”

“And a five-star.”