The twin suns hung high in the sky, glaring down on the land that hadn't seen rain in days. The heat pressed down like a heavy hand, and each thud of the horses' hooves kicked up clouds of dry dust.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow, squinting at the endless stretch of parched plains. Hard to believe that soon enough, with the first drops of the rainy season, all of this would burst into a sea of green.

  Damn. I'd trade a gold piece for a decent sombrero. Or better yet—why hasn’t anyone thought to enchant armor with a chill spell? Wouldn’t that fly off the shelves at the market?

  I sighed, stretched with a long yawn, and let my gaze drift lazily toward Alice.

  She rode ahead with Noviel, my new friend's freshly appointed bodyguard. I couldn't help but chuckle again—she was the spitting image of Ayra. Blonde, with those same melancholic blue eyes, standing around one-sixty-five. A few years older and a little taller, but otherwise? She could’ve passed for Ayra’s older twin.

  The town walls were already faintly visible on the horizon, but we still had about ten minutes left in the saddle. A thin ribbon of green traced the city’s outline, courtesy of the Ohotsk River. It was running low this time of year, but just enough water lingered to keep the banks from withering.

  Spartacius nudged his horse closer, falling into step beside me. Looked like he was in the mood for a chat.

  “Well, do you think she will make it?” - he asked

  I leaned back slightly in the saddle, squinting against the sun.

  "Noviel’s sharp—you saw how she handled herself." I replied with a shrug.

  We’d just seen her in action at camp. Nine out of ten targets hit at fifty meters, and not exactly under easy conditions. Shooting from horseback, firing over her shoulder mid-gallop—she made it look like second nature. Add to that her ability to launch incendiary arrows every minute or so? For a level nineteen rogue-archer, that was more than decent.

  Spartacius shook his head. "No, I meant Ayra. You think she’ll get sponsored? The training’s expensive. If no one backs her, she’ll rack up debt and end up in some merc contract too soon. And you know how that goes—some player scoops her up and uses her as a meat shield for a side quest."

  I raised a brow at him. He was worried about an NPC. I could relate, though. I always found myself going back to the same handlers, the familiar ones. The longer you worked with them, the harder it was to watch someone else treat them like disposable assets.

  I sighed. Now he thinks to ask about her—when it’s too late to change anything? At least this time, I had something to put his mind at ease.

  “She won’t need a sponsor,” I said, flicking the reins absently. “Remember when she tried to pay us for freeing those NPCs? Handed me her purse?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, before I gave it back, I slipped four gold pieces inside. If she stays for training, she’ll have what she needs.”

  Spartacius blinked. “Four gold? How much did she have?”

  “Eleven silver.”

  He laughed outright. “Lol. Cala-the-miser handing out four gold to an NPC. I’d never believe it if I didn’t hear it from you.”

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  I smiled, careful not to let it come off as patronizing. Four gold was nothing to me—barely pocket change—but I knew it was a lot for him.

  “Look,” I said, “it’s more of an experiment. I do this sometimes with NPCs. She stood out, and I’m curious to see how she’ll turn out—if she survives and we ever make it back, that is. The slaver wanted nine gold for her, so technically I saved some. And I’d bet that if she lives, she’ll try to pay me back—with interest. If I read her right, anyway. Besides…” I trailed off, glancing ahead. “I just want to see if an NPC can shift that much—going from shopgirl to archer.”

  Spartacius chuckled. “Aha, so you’re just looking to make a profit! Lol. Why wouldn’t she be able to switch jobs?”

  I shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  He tilted his head back, gazing at the horizon. The sunlight caught just right on his face—he’d really crafted himself into one hell of a handsome avatar. I wondered, not for the first time, what lay beneath all that. A scrawny kid?

  He grinned wide, pointing toward the horizon.

  “Oh! There’s the town. Time to test out my new mercenary!”

  I shrugged. I’d seen the town for a while now.

  “Welcome to Denikan Kingdom. People here are called Denika—or just Denik. They’re cousins to the Denka Republic we just left. Same language, so no need for translators. You can squeeze in your next five levels around here if you don’t get bored. Cuts down on travel time and earns you points with the locals.”

  He waved me off. “Nah, I’m not staying half a year. Just a couple of weeks, tops. Hey, what do you know about merc tests?”

  I snorted. “Most of those tests you see on the blogs are junk. They’re from Chapter Three—Tortuga, the pirate city. Sure, you’ll find the best mercenaries there… but first, you actually have to get there. Anyway,” I stretched in the saddle, “I’m heading to the market. You tagging along, or going straight to dig up info for your quest?”

  He rolled his eyes. “The market’s always dull. Magic’s banned here, remember? Maybe a few smuggled trinkets, but nothing worth the gold. I’ll track down quest info first. Where should we meet after?”

  “The market’s fine,” I said with a lazy nod.

  *

  The guards waved us through without a word, barely sparing us a glance. Either they still recognized me, or someone had told them to let anyone non-suspicious pass. It had been that way before. The atmosphere wasn’t as laid back as usual, and there were more guards, not just the standard two. I guess slaver raids in the nearby republic are bound to make local authorities a little twitchy.

  There was a minor entry tax—20 copper per person. I let Alice handle it; she’s in charge of the small change. As she chatted with a couple of guards, I turned my attention to the wanted posters.

  Ah. Maybe that explains the easy entry. The guards clearly knew Alice and Noviel. Interesting. Alice is from this area—I recruited her from the same camp. But is the game really that detailed? Do the NPCs actually keep track of each other like this?

  I shrugged and focused on the quest list. The lynx quest sat right at the top—clearly the highest-paying gig around. Nothing else really caught my eye.

  We left our horses by the gate, and I watched Spartacius vanish into the crowd with Noviel trailing behind. Depending on how quickly he dug up info on the lynx, I figured I had maybe twenty minutes, half an hour tops, to kill.

  Alice drifted closer. We shared a glance—silent agreement on Spartacius.

  She smirked. “He’s a child’s mind in a man’s body.”

  I chuckled. “You have no idea how right you are.”

  One of the things I love about Mephisto is how every character feels real. The dialogue, the little quirks—it’s easy to forget they’re just code. I giggled to myself. The NPCs call themselves spawns of this world with pride, like it’s some grand title. They have no clue what it actually means.

  I glanced up at Alice. She met my gaze with a soft smile, and in that moment, I saw it again—clear as day. She cared for me in a way that almost hurt to recognize.

  How the hell did they program this? The depth, the subtleties—how did they do that so perfectly?

  And then there was Ayra. She actually asked me what an NPC was. I mean, really? You can’t break immersion harder than that. How do you explain to someone like her that she’s a non-person character? Non-person? That girl’s got more personality than half the players I know. I chuckled at the thought: probably I'll find her back at the camp selling trinkets.

  I sighed and shook off the thought. I’m here to play, not to philosophize about NPCs.

  Then, maybe once this little quest wraps up, I’ll have time to check out some higher-level zones. Spartacius would probably get a kick out of it. I might even find him something decent—so long as I can keep him in one piece.