Chapter 2 - Down, down & down

[Class: Princess]
[Level: 1]
[Equipped: Vianaffir - You are not high enough level to use this weapon.]
“Level one?” Lillia said. “After all this time? And what kind of class is Princess?”
[Lillia used ‘Indignance - Level 1’ - There was no target!]
The text pulsed once, almost offended by her incompetence.
The princess half-stumbled backward and almost stepped onto the corpse below her. “Sorry, sir.”
She knew what it was, at least. An interface.
Her tutors had forced her to read about them during her education on the lives of the masses. Heroes had them. Adventurers. People chosen for things. People who got their hands dirty and called it character development.
Lillia had never been old enough to meet adventurers when her parents were alive, and her aunt certainly hadn’t been stupid enough to dangle a mournful princess in front of a heroic paladin.
Wasn’t a knight supposed to show up and sweep her off her feet? Royal blood wasn’t compatible with the muck of adventuring. Lillia was sure someone of her status was supposed to go her entire life without seeing an interface.
But there it was. Her only lifeline hovered in the middle of her vision, no matter where she looked. Lillia waved her free hand through the text.
It persisted.
“Oh good. That’s helpful.”
[Lillia used ‘Indignance - Level 1’ - There was no target!]
Lillia hissed. She was indignant, all right. At least now she had someone—something to direct the anger toward.
She growled and let her arms flop to her sides. The tip of the blade scraped along the floor. Fine. She would have to deal with it. If it was there to stay, it was there to stay.
Lillia tried to look past the text the same way she ignored someone she didn’t feel like talking to. As soon as she looked past it, the text was gone.
Realizing it was gone made her think of it, which re-summoned the whole ambient-white array to the forefront of her vision.
Lillia could do this. She’d ignored worse. Much worse, and usually at dinner. Older men who looked at princesses like Lillia and mistook silence for permission. Look past them and only call them a creep under your breath later.
The text vanished. Bye, creep.
That was one problem solved, but there were a million more.
She was level one. She had never had lessons on any of the common classes, let alone something like Princess. She was in a dungeon so horrid it had made a knight lie down and die.
Kill himself?
Lillia didn’t know which, and she certainly wasn’t about to get hands on with the skeleton to investigate.
Lillia had four options: the first door, the second door, the stairs into an infinite darkness, or crawling back into the pit and waiting for her aunt to discover she had upgraded from prisoner to armed problem.
In the end, the princess chose the second door. Everyone expected a person to pick door number one first. That was why it was called Number One.
Therefore, door number two was a strategy.
Lillia opened the second door. It was thick metal, but it opened without grinding or creaking. It had been down here so long that the hinges should have seized up, but someone, or something, had maintained door. Lillia filed that realization in the back of her mind with the other horrors.
The room beyond door number two was lit by flickering candlelight that didn’t seem to come from anywhere. At first glance, it looked quaint, almost cozy. A set of tables and a floor covered in thick fur rugs. Then the smell arrived: stale oak, old alcohol, and something animal that had soaked into the floorboards decades ago and stayed.
She’d been to the stables before. Once. After that she’d made the stable hand pull Pointe out each time she went on a ride.
The princess turned, took a deep breath of the air outside the strange room and slipped inside. As soon as she was past the threshold, the metal door slammed shut behind her, shoving her into the room. She stumbled forward, righted herself, and then scrunched her nose at the smell of singed pepper lingering in the air.
White text came roaring back.
[The Hunting Lodge - Level 1]
“Oh good. It has a name.”
Before she’d had the sword, she’d been doing her best to keep quiet, but frankly—despite it being much too early for her to be going crazy—the presence of the text made the weird world she was trapped in feel like it contained a dialogue.
Sure, if it was her interface, she was still talking to herself, but at least it was someone.
Lillia held Vianaffir out in front of her and, even though she didn’t know the proper technique, she understood she was doing it wrong. The tip wobbled in lazy circles as she walked, threatening the furniture, the floor, and occasionally Lillia herself.
The door in the far wall was metal rather than wood and set below antlers Lillia didn’t recognize. Something on the other side scratched, clicked, and dragged against the floor. It did not seem interested in keeping quiet.
Lillia turned heel. Why walk into the scary door when she still hadn’t confirmed the tables were as useless as they looked? She had to check her surroundings; that was basic strategy.
Wasn’t it? That sounded right.
The tables had been set and used at some point in the distant past. Food scraps sat among piles of dust. A rusty fork sat on most of the tables alongside soiled plates, the rest had knives.
Lillia grabbed a knife from a nearby table. The text returned.
[Equipment: Rusty Knife - This Equipment is not compatible with your current class.]
“Why not?” Lillia asked. As soon as she’d said it, she checked over her shoulder to the door.
[Lillia used ‘Indignance - Level 1’ - There was no target!]
“I know. I know. I’ll be quiet.” Lillia tried to shove the text away as if it were in the room. Instead, she flailed at the air like an idiot.
“Why can’t I use the knife?”
Nothing.
“Tell me about the knife?”
Silence. The text persisted.
“Can I look at it?”
No new information.
Lillia huffed and tried stabbing the air. It seemed like the knife would work like any other. She tucked Vianaffir into the belt loop of her dress so that she could hold the knife in both hands. Lillia winced as she felt the grime on her palm.
The text transformed.
[This weapon is not compatible with the Princess class. Reason: Dirty.]
[Additional Reason: Rusty.]
[Additional Reason: Honestly.]
[A simple rusty knife left behind by an expert hunter after a hearty meal. Time has stolen its edge. Maybe you could throw it at someone.]
Throw it at someone? Not something? Lillia’s throat went dry. Were there other people down here? Were they going to fight her? Try to kill her?
Was she going to have to do that? Could she?
What was on the other side of the door? A giant rat sounded better than “someone,”…at least morally.
If nothing else Lillia wouldn’t be stuck using a dirty weapon. That last thought meant the text’s judgment was probably correct.
The princess replaced the knife in its spot on the table. Once she’d drawn the sword she ‘wasn’t allowed to equip,’ she held her breath and closed her eyes. The smell of the room was still rancid, but there was also silence where she had heard scratching on the other side of the door.
Maybe it was just as scared of her as she was of it. Maybe she’d made so much noise the creature—person?—on the other side had assumed she was competent. What a joke.
If there was another Sir Nobody, Lillia hoped they’d at least died holding something she could equip.
The princess rested her hand on the door handle for a moment before slowly turning it, holding her breath as the latch released. She pressed her shoulder into the door and held Vianaffir out in front of her as the door opened.
The room beyond was inky black, and Lillia’s eyes followed the light as it spilled into the space. It was a storage closet. Old, iron-banded oak kegs were piled on top of one another, extending up past the edge of her vision, which explained the smell.
Once she was satisfied there wasn’t anything waiting for her, Lillia threw open the door.
Sadly, Lillia had been wrong.
The light found legs.
Too many legs.
Lillia screamed and threw Vianaffir.
The bug didn’t move out of the way.
She simply missed.
The knight’s blade clattered uselessly on the floor beside the thing, which reared up toward the screaming princess. It had so many legs. Too many for her to count and way too many to be okay.
Nope.
Lillia caught the door handle she’d thrown open a moment before and slammed the door shut hard enough that the antlers above shook. Whatever that thing was, it chased after her. It crashed into the door.
The wood buckled inward. Lillia threw herself against it.
On the other side, hundreds of legs scratched the floor. Then the wall. Then the door.
Then silence.
“Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew,” Lillia kept saying until it stopped being a word and became a squeaky noise stuck on a loop. The princess braced against the door. That thing was on the other side. It was going to ram the door over and over. It was going to break through. It was—
None of that happened. Eventually, Lillia let her hand slide off the door handle. Her chest heaved. Her lungs hurt. Her jaw hurt too, for some reason. Once she was confident the door wasn’t about crash open, Lillia threw up her hands and stalked across the room.
Door number two was a wash. Door number one would be a winner. She could feel it. She’d named it number one for a reason. Time to go pick a better room. One without a gigantic gross bug. Door number one was probably full of biscuits and jewlery.
When Lillia tried to grab the handle of the metal exit door, she realized that there wasn’t one.
The text returned.
[The Hunting Lodge - Level 1]
[Status: Incomplete]
[Exit Sealed]
“You’re kidding. Right?”
[Lillia used ‘Indignance - Level 1’ - There was no target!]
Lillia didn’t have a good comeback.
She screamed.
The bug slammed against the storage door.
She screamed again.
The princess knocked on the door. “Hey! Sir Knight. You said you had a shade, right? Whatever that means.” Her voice cracked on the last word. Rude. “There is a literal princess in here who needs saving.”
Lillia pressed her ear against the metal. It was cold.
The silence dragged. Sir Nobody ignored her.
“Fine! Whatever. I’m glad my great-grandfather killed your king person!” Lillia slammed her fist into the door, which hurt. Her tantrum lingered in the quiet.
“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
Still no answer. Unfortunately, guilt did not require permission.
“Fine. I’ll get your sword.”
Lillia stomped back across the room, collecting knives from every table. By the end, she looked like a common server carrying an armful of knives so dirty they wouldn’t have been allowed within miles of her castle.
The princess muttered to herself as she worked, never quite forming a proper sentence. She dumped her knife collection on the floor beside the door, then took one in each hand.
“Stupid aunt. Stupid bug. I hope you’re happy, Mr. Knight.”
The latch clicked. Lillia kicked the wooden door open for the second time. Light swept across the room and revealed the creature. Its clicking mandibles. Its vacant eyes.
Lillia froze. The bug chittered at her. Lillia threw the rusty knife and missed. At least she had more.
The bug twitched on its myriad legs as it sized her up. Lillia took a step back. Its chitinous shell gleamed in the candlelight. Another step backward; any further and she wouldn’t be able to close the door anymore.
It scuttled forward, just an inch. Lillia screamed. Her lungs were tight. Her hands were shaking. Her feet were unsteady. The bug moved closer. Vianaffir gleamed behind the hind legs of the segmented creature.
“Why did it have to be a bug? This is so unfair!”
The bug stopped, twitched, and fell over backward on itself.
[Lillia used ‘Indignance - Level 1’ - Highly Effective!]
What?
[Chitterpede was stunned!]
Lillia didn’t know what the hell had happened, but she knew what stunned meant. The princess dove forward for the sword, her dress billowing behind her with far more dignity than the rest of her body. She overshot and slammed into the oak barrels, but managed to find Vianaffir with her left hand. It was sloppy, but it would do.
There was a world where she raised the blade high and posed heroically. This was not that world.
Lillia flailed wildly. The blade bounced off chitin once, twice, then slid between two plates with a wet squelch. The chitterpede spasmed under her.
Lillia screamed and started stabbing.
“Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew—ew—ew—ew.”
Green guts were splattered across the kegs and everything else by the time Lillia convinced herself it was safe to open her eyes. She could feel the damp residue of the bug and chunks of its shell stuck to her dress. Bile built up in the back of Lillia’s throat.
[Chitterpede defeated! Yay!]
Lillia wasn’t allowed to cry, so she did what she did best. She screamed. At first, it was catharsis. Then it was frustration. Then it was a curse.
Then it was frustration again, because her dress was not salvageable.
The text appeared over the chitterpede’s corpse.
Lillia stared at the twitching remains.
“Absolutely not.”