The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 190
I hunch my shoulders, and my voice gets defensive.
“I can’t help it.”
He pats my shoulder.
“I know. Sorry. Sarah’s barking up the wrong tree when she gets mad at you, anyways. She needs to get out some, or she’ll go crazy.”
“We’ll all go crazy soon if we can’t go somewhere else.”
“You still doing your juggling act for the kids?”
“A bit.”
People have no idea what I am. They stare at the white paint on my face and ask me what kind of class a [Clown] is. They don’t laugh, and they just watch me until they have something to do. I can’t make them laugh and take away their worries.
Richard picks at his fingernails as he leans against a stall. The horse he rode in on blinks at me.
“You know, Tom, you could come with us next time we go out. You—could fight. We’re going to go out hunting again tomorrow. You could join us.”
“I…don’t think I can. I’m not a fighter.”
I get sick at the sight of blood. When I thought I’d have to behead that screaming Goblin…I still have nightmares about Ron and Marian.
“But why a [Clown]? Clowns aren’t…”
He trails off before he can say the rest, but I get it. Clowns aren’t funny. Yeah, that’s true. But there’s a reason I decided to keep pursuing this class. It’s just a hunch. Just a gamble, but maybe…
I’m saved from having to answer by a familiar sound.
“♪Doo doo doodle do do doo doo doot~♫”
We both listen to the obnoxious music in silence. Richard clears his throat.
“Can you at least change the music?”
“If I could man, believe me, I would. Anything but this.”
“Well, I guess it’s good you’re not coming with us when we’re patrolling. Imagine that going off when we’re sneaking up on a monster.”
Both of us laugh. Now why can’t I be funny like that?
“Chole wants to use Vincent’s phone to call the others again.”
“That’s probably not a good idea. Remember what happened?”
“Yeah. But she said…”
“I’ll talk with her. But we’ve got bigger news. I just talked with an officer on the road, and he says we might be getting reinforcements.”
I perk up.
“You mean, more soldiers?”
Richard shakes his head. He looks grim.
“No. I mean more people like us.”
That takes a moment to sink in.
“What?”
“The King thinks we were a mistake. He wants to perform the summoning ritual again and call more heroes to this world.”
“How can they do that again? Isn’t there a huge cost or something?”
“I think they can keep doing it so long as they’ve got enough [Mages]. They were saying that it took a lot of mana—and something else—but they want to give it another shot.”
“I can’t really blame them. Can you?”
Richard laughs, and looks at the hay on the stable floor.
“No. I can’t either. But it’s a mistake.”
It is. More people. I try to imagine that. I don’t want to see more people our age dying. Richard grasps the hilt of his sword reflexively and stares towards the doors.
“I’ll try talking to the soldiers again; try to get an audience with him.”
“He doesn’t listen to us. He never did.”
“But I’ve got to try. It’s the right thing to do.”
The right thing to do. No wonder Richard got the [Knight] class. He’s always looking out for the rest of us, and he’s got that famous Southern courtesy. He ponders as I watch him out of the corner of my eye.
“If I could convince him that some of us can be the heroes he wants, then maybe he’d listen.”
“You think you can?”
“Well, Emily’s over Level 20 and Red’s nearly there as well. That’s a lot faster than anyone in this world levels. If I can hit Level 30, I’d be the equivalent of a Gold-rank adventurer.”
“Maybe you should be adventurers. Vincent was saying that’s what we need. Magical items.”
“Eddy says the same thing. Maybe. If we could get an escort back behind the wall and into the capital, we could try one of the dungeons. It would be a lot safer behind the wall.”
“Yeah.”
Richard falls silent, and I can’t add anything. We stand together for a while, until Richard clears his throat.
“Let’s get some sleep.”
Funny. I mean, not really funny, but it’s odd. When did we all start taking orders so easily? I mean, I haven’t had anyone tell me when to go to sleep since I was a kid. But Richard says it and so we get back to the townhouse.
Sarah’s done crying, and with the others, the minor squabbles of the morning are forgotten. For a while we eat some bland stew with bits of meat soaking in the gravy, and then we all blow out the lanterns and roll into the hard mattresses.
I sit in the darkness for a while, listening to people talking quietly as more and more drop off to sleep. Someone begins snoring, and I put my head back in the pillow.
My eyes close, and I begin drifting off. But I don’t hear any voice in my head
…No level up again. Darn.
Something’s going to happen at Level 20, I just know. If what I think is going to happen can happen, maybe—
Got to make people laugh. Do clown things. I need a red nose. A tomato? Do they have those in the market?
Can’t think. Got to sleep. I try to make the pillow slightly more comfortable as my breathing eases. Another day down. My thoughts dwindle as I close my eyes.
I really…need…better jokes…
—-
“Tom. Tom!”
Someone shakes me back into wakefulness. I look around, and see Richard’s face. There’s no light in the townhouse, but I can still see his face, lit by the orange light. He looks as close to panic as I’ve ever seen him—just like the first time we went past the wall.
He hauls me to my feet.
“Get up. And stay quiet.”
“W-what’s happening?”
“We’re under attack. It’s a Demon raiding party.”
Around me, I hear others waking up and spreading the news. I hear someone moaning loudly – Sarah – and then she’s instantly silenced. Only now do I hear the crackling flames, the screams, and in the distance, the ringing of metal on metal.
War has come to the village. And it’s about to come to us.
Once everyone’s on their feet, awake and scared, Richard stands up on a chair in the center of the building. He raises his voice loud enough to be heard.
“A group of Demon archers is killing anything that moves in the square. If we go out on horseback they’ll shoot us down. We have to sneak out.”
“What about the soldiers? Where are they?”
Emily answers for Richard.
“They’re fighting at the outpost. They’ll send help, but we have to leave. Grab anything valuable and wait for my signal.”
She casts a spell, and I see some kind of magical shield forming around her. She pushes a side door open cautiously, and a few of our fighters follow her out. After a second, the door opens and Emily pokes her head back in.
“No one’s around. Follow me. Stay low and move fast!”
Guys and girls start to funnel out the doors. No one else is speaking, but I look around and the words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“What about the villagers?”
Everyone pauses. Emily scowls at me, and points out the window in the direction the fighting sounds are coming from.
“They’re fighting with the soldiers. We can’t risk going to help them. There’s a group of Demons out there, not just monsters!
“But—”
“Tom. There’s nothing we can do.”
Richard looks tired as he unsheathes his sword. He’s going to bring up the rear. He motions me towards the door, but I hesitate.
“There are kids out there. Can’t we—?”
No one else meets my eyes. Richard hesitates, but Emily stares at him and something silent passes between them.
“There’s nothing we can do. We have to leave now.”
“Then I’ll go.”
“What?”
I’m shaking. But I can’t stop myself. I think of Wilhen and the girl I gave a flower to this morning. I can’t not go.
“I’ll go. I’ll find you later if—I’ll go.”
Richard stares at me. To my great relief, he doesn’t try to stop me; he just pulls a flask out of his belt.
“Take this.”
He presses the yellow healing potion into my hands. Its high-quality stuff and I know it’s saved his life more than once when fighting. I take it and nod at him. What can I say?
The others look at me, but no one says anything. After a few seconds, Emily pulls someone towards the door and they start moving again.
You’d think one of them would try to stop me, try to tell me not to do anything stupid. But they’re already leaving. This isn’t a time for stupid heroic lines like a movie.
So why am I doing the stupid, heroic thing?
I don’t know. I certainly don’t feel like a hero as I scuttle down the street, trying to stay in the shadows. But maybe it’s just because I can’t stand us running away. Not now. Not—without trying to do something.
I’m just a [Clown]. I thought it would be a good idea, that there was something in there. But right now I don’t think of classes or skills or anything else. I’m just a frightened guy. Trying to do something right.
I hear someone screaming ahead of me and my heart stops in my chest. But it’s not a human sound. Ahead of me, the stable is sitting right next to a burning house. The flames haven’t touched the stable yet, but the horses are inside and they can smell the smoke.
I don’t have time to free them. If I rode a horse—but I can’t.
“I’m sorry.”
I say it quietly and move on. I can’t stop. Every instinct in me is telling me I’m in danger. I just need to find Wilen and the kids. They know to make for the outpost if they’re in danger, but if the soldiers there are under attack, where would they go?
If I can bring them to the others, Richard and Emily could protect them. If—
Something darts out of an alley ahead of me. I freeze, but it’s no Goblin. A small form runs through the street. I shout out, forgetting caution.
“Wilen!”
He turns towards me, face written with desperation. He starts towards me, but then I hear a crash, and something bursts through a wall of a house behind Wilen.
A huge hand punches through the stone, and a club that’s just a beam of wood sends burning wood flying through the air as it roars and charges towards me. I freeze.
A Troll. A massive, gray-green hulk of a monster, squat face grinning as he lumbers down the street after Wilen. The boy runs towards me, and I freeze up again. What should I—?
“Run! I’ll stop it!”
Wilen stares at me, but I shove him behind me. The Troll pauses as I run towards his left side, trying to draw him away. He turns towards me—the bigger target by far, and grins as he raises the broken piece of timber.
I’ve got to buy Wilen some time. I shout and wave my arms as I run left. I can get into an alleyway, lose him that way.
But the Troll lumbers to cut me off, and I realize he’s moving faster than I am. He cuts me off and raises his club. I slow and try to backpedal, but too late.
He swings the broken piece of timber. So fast! Too quick to dodge. I raise my arm—
—And wake up on the ground. I raise my head and puke as my everything spins. I have to turn over to empty my stomach, but I’m on my feet even before I fully think.
Wilen. Got to find him. The Troll must have thought I was dead. Where is…?
Something’s lying in the street twenty feet further down. I stare at it.
No.
It’s still moving. I stumble forwards, feeling my body screaming in agony. But it’s a distant scream; no louder than the one in my head. I run, and then the small shape comes into view.
Wilen. He turns his head towards me as I halt in the street. Despite the flames around me, my skin is cold. And my heart—
“Is that you, Mister [Clown]?”
He’s in one piece. Mostly. But his spine is twisted the wrong way, and his skin—
The young boy gasps up at me, face pale. He’s just a kid. Just a kid. Tears streaks down his face as I lurch towards him and fall to my knees.
“I tried to run like you said, but he was too fast. He caught me.”
“Wilen—”
I reach for him, but stop. What can I do? There’s nothing to do. Wilen gasps, his face pale.
“I think he hurt me. Am I okay?”
“I—”
My head is spinning. Wilen doesn’t need an answer. He bites his lip so hard it bleeds. He’s trying not to scream.
“Mister [Clown]—he’s coming back.”
I look over my shoulder. Maybe the Troll found something else to kill. Maybe he thought we were dead. Maybe he just got bored.
He lumbers back down the street, dragging his club along the ground. He squints at me and Wilen, and then grins again.
He takes a few step forwards and I feel the thumping in my bones. Wilen whimpers on the ground as the Troll’s grin widens. His chest heaves as the massive creature opens his mouth. He’s laughing.
I don’t get the joke.
1.01 C
Perhaps it’s just as well the gods are dead. Because as I hold a dying child in my arms, I can’t believe in anything greater. Not God, not heaven—
Certainly not myself.
I’ve always been a failure. It eats at me in the dark times and my happy moments. Before, I had medicine to stop the thoughts clawing at me, dragging me down. But now I see I was always right. The happy times were an illusion.
I can do nothing. I am nothing. I can’t be a hero, I can’t fight. I can’t even save a single kid.
Wilen gasps as he clings to me. He’s still alive. But not for long. I can see it. His spine and lower torso are—
“It hurts. A bit.”
He’s biting down so hard his teeth have gone through his lips. I hold him to my chest. I don’t know what to say.
“You’re going to be okay.”
He gives me the same look as whenever I make a truly terrible joke. It almost makes me want to laugh.
“I’m going to die. But you should run. He’s coming.”
I can hear the Troll thumping towards me down the street. The gargantuan bastard is taking his time, strolling along. I don’t move. I can’t.
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“You’ve got to. I am dying.”
He says it so matter-of-fact, but his small hand is squeezing my arm. I know he’s right. He does too. I don’t know what to do. He holds something out to me. A sword? No—just a knife. A kitchen knife. He must have tried to defend himself.
It falls from his fingers. He can’t even hold it. Wilen is in pain. He’s—I can see the hurt in his eyes.
So I tell a joke.
“Hey. I’ve got a joke for you.”
I say it out of desperation, out of fear. Because he hurts and I want to take away the pain.
Wilen looks at me. He tries to smile and fails. Sweat and tears roll down his face, indistinguishable.
“Is it a good one?”
“You tell me.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath. I don’t have a joke. But it comes to me in a flash.
“Wh-what do you call a fat [Clown] sitting in front of a Troll?”
Wilen gasps. His face goes a little paler, and he grips my arm as strongly as he can. His grasp is weakening. I look down, and see the blood pooling under the skin.
“What? What’s a…fat [Clown] sitting in front of a Troll?”
“The main course.”
It’s not funny. But he giggles, and blood trickles out of his stomach.
“That’s good. But I don’t want—”
He loses focus for a second and stops speaking. I hold him in my arms for a while, waiting for him to finish the sentence. Then I realize he’s dead.
Behind me the earth shakes and I hear a heavy laugh from overhead. I smell a terrible, putrid stench, and the smell of blood and death.
But I don’t care.
My head is swimming, but my eyes are dry. All my tears run from my heart. Like blood, dripping onto the ground. My blood.
Everything is spinning. I can feel death approaching, snuffling and grunting. The Troll.
I close Wilen’s eyes and move. I stand up. I keep moving. And I smile.
I am not happy. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again. But this is tragedy, and I can either fold up and die, or move on.
Because that’s what a clown does. I think I get it. We make comedy out of tragedy, and pretend everything’s funny when it’s not. We…
Tell jokes so no one can see the tears inside.
The Troll is behind me. I see his massive shadow as he raises his club. Laughing. But he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand true humor. He doesn’t understand anything.
I close my eyes. Sometimes you just need to let go. And let the funny inside you out.
Ha. It was a pretty funny joke.
Hahahaha.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—
[Clown Level 24!]
[Skill – Greater Pain Tolerance Obtained.]
[Skill – Devil’s Luck Obtained.]
[Condition – Horrific Laughter Received.]
[Condition – Lesser Insanity Received.]
Oh. Oh.
So that’s what it feels like. It feels great. It feels aMaZIng.
I was right all along. Classes are what we make them. A [Clown] might not exist in this world, but we brought a bit of our world with us.
And [Clowns] aren’t just funny.
We’re hilarious.
Remember when I said I had depression? I lied.
And right now, the world is terribly, awfully, and horribly funny to me.
I put down the small body on the ground and stand up. The Troll stands over me, licking his lips. He laughs thickly, cruelly. That’s not a laugh. I show him what a real laugh sounds like.
