Trulda finished her shift at the Adventurers Guild and said goodbye. She hurried away with uncommon haste, not following her usual way home. Instead, she turned into the more remote backstreets. Minutes later she arrived at the edge of the cobbled square, the scent of firewood and warm bread from a bakery two streets over drifted through the digital air. The square was dominated by a slightly raised round platform. One of the auxiliary spawnpoints. She adjusted her belt absently, watching the air start.

Until now, they'd always chatted in her logout room, but this time her three daughters had decided to visit her in the VR.

Three avatars materialized on the spawnpoint. Trulda blinked.

The first had bright freckles and an oversized backpack. The second wore a mismatched tunic and a flower crown. The third bounced in place with obvious, overflowing energy.

All three looked about fourteen.

Trulda squinted. "What in the…"

"Surprise!" Ressa said. Even with the childish avatar, Trulda could hear the efficient cadence in her voice.

"You're looking at the junior edition," Lina said, spinning once. "No class. No skills. But maximum nostalgia."

Meret held up a hand for a high five. "We thought it'd be weird, you know? You being younger than us. So now we match."

Trulda's VR body, seventeen years old and reconstructed from old prom videos, with light enhancements of her main assets, folded her arms.

"You are twenty-two, twenty, and eighteen, but you look like a trio of pageant rejects."

Meret stuck her tongue out. "We figured if we're going to do a beginner quest, we might as well lean in."

Trulda sighed, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Fine. But if any of you call me 'Mommy,' I'm handing you to the bakery NPC."

They laughed. Trulda had organized one of the non-violent family quests, tailored for visiting family members and kids. The baker came into view with perfect timing, flailing dramatically.

"Oh, blessed adventurers!" he cried. "My cart, my pies, I'm doomed if I can't reach the festival market in time!"

He pointed behind him. A small, overloaded wagon sat awkwardly; one wheel slightly cracked.

The quest interface pinged:

Objective: Escort the Pie Cart to Market. Time limit: Soft.

Trulda chuckled. "Now that's family friendly quest design."

Meret climbed into the cart. "I volunteer for pie defense."

Lina grabbed the broken wheel and began inspecting it with theatrical flair. "We may need bardic engineering."

Ressa rubbed her temples. "I'll push. Someone has to keep this moving."

They set off down the winding village road. The scenery rolled by like a memory, blooming hedgerows, a bridge covered in carved ivy, one goat staring in the middle distance.

The baker kept pace, offering commentary: "My Aunt Milla once said, 'Never trust a pie without proper crust support!'"

Meret groaned as his try for humor went horribly wrong.

Then, at the bridge, the inevitable happened. The cart shuddered. The cracked wheel gave way. Pies tumbled sideways. One landed on the street.

"Oh no, my market dreams!" the baker wailed.

Ressa groaned. "That's scripted. I knew it."

Trulda waved them off. "We can fix that."

They quickly emptied the wagon and Trulda lifted it up for the others to remove the broken wheel with surprising ease. The three young girls asked around by the craftsmen in the surrounding workshops and quickly found a wheelwright who sold them a new wheel. Working together, they fixed the wagon and continued their journey.

They reached the town square just as a horde of hungry customers entered after a long day working. The baker hastily stocked his market stand and opened up.

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Quest complete! You have earned: One Apple Pie.

The baker presented the dessert with great ceremony.

They sat at a bench beside the fountain. Kids ran past. NPCs browsed the stalls, while Trulda exchanged stories of their now so different lives.

Meret leaned on Trulda's shoulder. "I forgot how wholesome this world can be. They did good work on this simulation. Pity none of us has enough time to play regularly."

Ressa eventually spoke. "But we can visit. And we will!"

Lina said nothing. Just nodded.

Trulda turned her head slowly. "Thank you."

Meret hugged her first, tightly.

Lina lingered longest, brushing a hand over her mother's avatar's cheek. "You're still here."

Trulda touched her hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

Ressa was last to go. She paused, then smiled, the first real smile Trulda had seen from her in months.

"Let's meet again next week," Ressa said.

"I'll hold you to that," Trulda replied.

The girls faded, one by one as they logged out.

* * *

Trulda sat alone on the bench, her hand still resting where Lina's had been. The sun set behind the mountains and it was getting dark fast. She sighed, lifted herself up and went on her way home. Her path again led through the more remote and narrow alleys of Mulnirsheim. The sun's light was long gone, only some enchanted bar signs lit the cobblestone path. Rain started to fall in a steady rhythm. She was deep in thought, when a voice rasped from behind.

"Did you really think you could get away with all of that?"

She turned sharply and saw a group of three men, that had managed to creep up on her unnoticed. They were draped in dark leathers mottled with soot and grime. Faces obscured by cloth, blades glinting at their hips. Their posture loose, like that of those trained to move unseen.

"No one crosses the Brotherhood," the leader growled, his voice low. "And lives."

They were some kind of thief class. Good enough with their stealth skill to escape her notice. And kind enough to warn her of their presence… Wait… That didn't fit.

She ducked and whirled around to barely dodge the knife of the fourth thug, that had hidden in a side alley. The trio went in to attack.

Trulda bellowed a war cry that echoed along the narrow alley, then pulled her long two-handed mace out of her cleavage of holding. The combination of the loud sound and the weapon she suddenly held made the attackers pause. Just for a moment, but long enough for her to take the initiative. Rage streamed through her veins like burning magma. She raced at one of her attackers, swinging her mace in an obvious and signaled way. He of course dodged… and opened the way at her real target. Her first target had blocked his view, so he saw her coming too late. The mace crashed into his temple. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed across the alley wall in a red fan, mixing with the water of the rain.

Opponent defeated: Common brawler, level 5: low XP

Three left.

Her decoy target stared in disbelief at the blood sprinkling his clothes. Almost too shocked to dodge the backhand swing of her mace. He got his head out of the weapons arc, but took a glancing hit to his right shoulder. His arm went slack, the dagger clinking on the street.

Two thugs advanced, one from each side of the alley, while the third picked up his dagger with his left hand. No way to run, but running was the last on her mind. She screamed and charged. They dodged, cut at her with knives, kicked and spun. When one of them ducked low without reason, she stepped to the wall next to her… and avoided a crossbow bolt a hidden attacker shot from around a dark corner.

The thugs hesitated. One of them barked, "She's just a tavern wench, working at the guild. She's no match for us!"

Trulda bared her teeth in a fierce grin. "You want to test that?"

She charged right at the thug between her and the crossbow-sniper, who was hastily reloading his weapon. He was fast, certainly sped up by training, high tier skill and feats. But not fast enough. The man in her way tried to stab her while evading, but she would have none of that. She hit his knife arm with her mace. The crack of breaking bone followed the still faintly echoing war cry. She tackled the man out of her way and ran past the crossbowman without stopping. He first thought she'd try to escape, but then the mace she held came up and hit him right on his weapon arm.

While he howled and backed away, she paused. Even in her rage, something registered as off. Something didn't fit… She took in her surroundings. The dead body on the floor, two attackers coming at her, now slower and more cautious… The wounded man backing up away from her…

The dead body. It was still there. It should have already dissolved. She growled at her attackers and took on an even more aggressive stance, to make them slow. She needed a moment to think. The guy was a common thug. What player would choose such a basic class? And have so basic equipment at level five? These men were NPCs. The brotherhood was getting so lazy, they just used hired thugs instead of players. She couldn't just kill them! They weren't coming back… but she also didn't want to die. She didn't care much about losing a level, but she didn't want to give the brotherhood the satisfaction of having her killed.

She stopped and turned, right in front of the two last attackers who were following her, now advancing full speed as they saw her hesitate. Trulda sidestepped, grabbed the arm of the first as he passed, and twisted. The snap of his elbow echoed against the stone walls. He howled, dropping his knife, and Trulda slammed the butt of her mace into his head with a thunderous thud. He went down. Unconscious, but alive. As long as she didn't kill them, they'd be good as new in a few days. The advantage of a simulation that didn't include long-lasting after-effects of injuries.

A knife dug deep into her side, but in her rage, she could ignore the pain. She just stared at the man for a moment. He stared back, eyes widening in terror. Then she smacked him in the face with her fist, then mace, then fist again. He dropped, and she could tell he was still conscious and played dead, since she didn't get a kill notification. She scanned the rooftops and the alley. It took a while for her rage to subside after nothing moved around her any longer.

Opponent defeated: 4x (Common brawler, level 5): medium XP

She got xp even though she didn't kill her opponents? Made sense. She had won without a doubt and the AI clearly wasn't a fan of needlessly slaughtering NPCs.

She held up her mace and let out a final scream, this time of triumph.

So, the brotherhood wanted war? She would give them wrath!

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