The Legend of William Oh-Chapter 91: Hold My Beer

Paragraph 82, subsection 3: On Knife Fighting.

Mutually agreed upon knife-fights are legally binding for settling disputes between Party Leaders. They are to be confined to indoor areas, as bleeding into the water is forbidden. The blade itself may measure no more than 2 inches for the safety of the fighters. Fights will be determined by first blood. Climbers failing to yield promptly after first blood are required to be beaten by any and all spectators until they yield.

Subsection 3-d, ’William Oh’ addendum.

Knives are not allowed to be stored or wielded by Abilities invisible to the naked eye. First blood must be drawn by the knife itself, not any Ability or improvised weapon. Being stabbed by furniture or flooring no longer counts.

Stealing the opponent’s knife with an invisible Ability is prohibited, but stealing it with your feet is not.

Declaring a knife fight ’against everyone present’ is no longer allowed, as it indirectly bypasses neutral ’spectator’ judgement of who won and who lost.

Reparations for Large-scale property destruction is the responsibility of the losing party(s). If multiple losing parties were involved, the burden is shared between them.

"Any major things we should know?" Will asked as Loth scanned through the pages.

"Always ask permission to come aboard, don’t steal, don’t cheat at gambling, don’t destroy property, don’t kill anybody…

"Anything else?" Will asked.

"Oh yes, lots of it," Loth said. "But most of it is either edge case or common sense. Be polite, pay your tab, and don’t pick any fights, and you should be fine. I’ll copy down the highlights. We should gather up the docking fee, too."

Will raised a brow. "We don’t have much coin on us." Enjoy more content from novelbuddy

"Thankfully The Flotilla operates on barter." Loth said, "Some of my spidersilk ropes should cover it."

An hour later, they were pulling up beside a wooden pier, floating on top of the waves, and jutting out from an oversized floating warehouse slightly smaller than Shimmer herself.

One thing that Will had learned since they’d arrived: Shimmer was not a normal-sized ship, as evidenced by the stares and the fact that the docking authority had refused them entry at the usual dock, citing fears of choking off the flow of ships.

So they made their way down to the industrial side of town where floating warehouses with extra robust piers were able to accommodate them without too much trouble.

When Will’s feet hit the pier, he could feel it shift minutely under him, giving him an idea of how much weight the entire pier could handle before it collapsed.

The people taking their docking fee seemed pretty miffed about a receiving a single crate of Loth’s rope until Will dared them to try and break it.

When they couldn’t, the tax collectors swallowed their complaints and bustled off carrying the crate over their shoulders. The warehouse master changed his tune, his manner turning obsequious after learning Will’s name.

"Of course there have been more than a handful of imitators, sir, but you’re the first person to dock sailing the corpse of a leviathan, which is all the proof I need that you’re the real William Oh." The warehouse owner said with a grin.

Will studied the man, pondering how in The Tower word of his exploits had beaten him up here.

Sure, I took a bit of time getting here, but not that long.

The wind changed and blew the smell of Loth’s ’substrate’ back towards them.

"Gods, is that your ship?" The warehouse master asked, muscling his way past the gag reflex with only a slight frown like a true hardened sailor.

"The entire back half is filled with rotting fish," Will said, glancing over his shoulder at the ship. The front half was where they lived, and the back half, nearly the size of an entire warehouse itself, was where Loth was performing her experiments with soil creation and insect breeding.

They couldn’t really smell it anymore.

"The entire back half?" the man asked, to which Will nodded.

"Gods. Well, the druids up near the top of the Flotilla will gladly pay for bulk fertilizer, if you can find a way to deliver it to them."

"Where can we buy supplies?"

"Market’s that way." The warehouse master said.

"Billy-bob."

"Yes, sir?" Billy-bob asked as the three spirit butlers rose out of the floor, causing the warehouse master to yelp and flinch back in surprise.

"You negotiate the daily docking fee, Stevie heads out with the Bakers to coordinate the resupply, and Noob watches the ship with Ria and Jean."

"Of course," The spirit butler said with a nod.

After weeks of living through a heady blend of danger and monotony, they were finally able to take it easy for a few days.

The first thing that all of them wanted to do was be nowhere near each other for an evening.

They agreed to return to the ship before sunup and then went their own ways, their oversized party breaking into smaller clumps of ones and twos.

June went off on her own, Mason and Reggie took off together, while Alicia went shopping with Loth and the bakers. Travis slipped away while no one was looking, and the Bakers split into several copies of themselves, with some watching the ship, some going with Loth, and some simply exploring.

Satisfied that everything looked like it would go smoothly, Will was the last one to leave the ship as the sun was already going down.

The first thing that Will noticed as he walked through the city was that the whole thing smelled of a potent blend of saltwater, rotten fish and shit, which explained why the dockworkers hadn’t been totally put off by the pungent odor of Shimmer.

The second thing he noticed was a significant drop in the number of women who had bothered to make their way up to the 6th Floor.

The Fifth Floor was a bastion of civilization, with farms and family businesses…and soap, where the logistics of leaving The Tower to start a family and then bringing them back up wasn’t too difficult because there was generation spanning infrastructure to facilitate that.

But The Flotilla? It was not a nice place. Period.

The Sixth Floor was the dividing line between people who were happy to get a little strength and prosperity, and those who were Climbing because risking your life is fun.

In short, ambitious idiots like Will.

That gave the entire Flotilla a much different vibe than Akul. Rowdier, for certain, and significantly more lawless, even though they professed to have them.

He’d read through their laws himself before they’d docked, and most of them could be arbitrated by combat or mob justice. Which was ridiculous.

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Will asked around and found out there was a bar called The Bridge, where Party Leaders met informally to introduce themselves and share information.

He passed through the market on the way, spotting a Druid Archetype selling blueberries for an outrageous price that rivaled actual Relics, flanked on either side by bodyguards, as if he was trading illicit narcotics.

The way people fought each other to crowd around it, it might as well be.

Twice he passed by a thin-walled building where he heard the ring of steel and grunts of pain as two men tried to slice each other with the stubby little fighting knives everyone seemed to carry around.

Just long enough to make some decent lacerations, but too short to hit major organs without a fair amount of creativity.

Just don’t let anyone slice you in the groin or neck.

Many sailors had their stubby blades widened and swooped back to cover nearly the entire hand, gradually becoming something more akin to a sharpened brass knuckle than an actual knife.

But it still didn’t extend further forward than two inches, so nobody said anything.

I gotta get me one of those knives, Will thought as he walked out of the market back into the winding wooden pontoon piers tucked between the ships that had been converted into businesses.

I wouldn’t say no to some blueberries, either.

The bobbing ’streets’ were rapidly darkening as the shadows grew longer, and Will got to see a Nuker archetype step out onto the deck of a nearby inn and create thousands of firefly sized motes of flame that flickered over to light the city’s lamps in a hypnotizing display of magical control.

You could charge for a sight like that in The Ring.

Here, nobody even bothered to look up.

The city’s vibe changed from rowdy to ominous as the sun faded, leaving only ruddy orange circles of light with impenetrable pools of darkness that spread beyond the reach of each lantern.

Two Rogue Archetypes began flitting from shadow to shadow, pacing along beside Will as he walked through the –

Wait, do they think I can’t-

"You know I can see you, right?" Will asked, pointing at the closest one.

The masked man froze while another crept up behind Will.

"Hey, I know I look like an easy mark, but I have a Rogue Archetype, and my Acuity is really high," Will said, taking a half-step back and to the side, keeping both of them in his vision. "So this is going to involve a lot less stealth and a lot more fighting than you’d like."

The two rogues glanced at each other, shrugged and vanished into the darkness, in search of more unwary prey.

Will waited a moment, until he was sure they weren’t trying to circle around and get him when he relaxed his guard.

Will nearly jumped out of his skin when a nearby wall burst open, revealing a scrawny man dressed in rags tumbling through it. For an instant, he thought he was under attack and nearly put a cannonball through the man and everything behind him.

"And don’t come back until you’ve got something to spend!" A ruddy bald man who looked to weigh nearly three hundred pounds of muscle shouted out the hole in the wall.

He glanced over at Will and gave him a sheepish wave before turning back. Will peered through the hole in the ship beside him and spotted general carousing. Drinking and dancing in exchange for Relics, Ivory, and whatever else was portable and valuable.

Huh.

Looked like everyone was having fun, but fun wasn’t what Will wanted at the moment.

"Are you all right?" Will asked, turning back to the emaciated man sprawled lifelessly across the wooden walkway.

"Here again, huh?" The skeletal man muttered, his gaze scanning the dingy alleyway, one hand limp, dipping in the cold seawater below while the other one fished in his pocket for a flask.

His grey-eyed scan ended at Will’s feet, gaze climbing to Will’s face. His eyes flashed with an instant of recognition before his face crumpled, and he began bawling like a child.

Will picked his way around the wailing man who had curled into a quivering ball.

"I’m just gonna…go." Will said, moving on. A few minutes later, he had put the encounter out of mind and arrived at The Bridge.

It was an oversized vessel near the center of the city. Not as big as Shimmer, but big, with at least three stories, and bright light spilling from the windows that lined the side of the ship.

Bright painted letters announced it’s identity as ’The Bridge’.

"Permission to come aboard!" Will shouted up at the ship.

A sailor leaned over the bannister and peered down at Will.

"You a Party Leader?"

"That I am." Will said.

The man’s eyes flashed blue momentarily before he nodded.

"Come on in," he said, disappearing beyond the edge of the deck.

Will trotted up the board into the main room, the sound of the interior engulfing him as he crossed the threshold into the ship.

It was music unlike anything he’d ever heard before, phantom fingers massaging his temples and speaking words of serenity.

Will glanced over and spotted no less than three bards singing and playing a deceptively quiet song that seemed to permeate the entire room without drowning anything out, an Ability attached to the music radiating a sense of calm and ease.

Keeping everything mellow.

It was an odd sensation, hearing an Ability-enhanced performance magnificent enough to be seen at an aristocrat’s ball, while also smelling rotting fish and human excrement.

Ah, The Tower.

Remember, everyone here is at least as high level as you are. Don’t get carried away, Will reminded himself as he walked through the main room. Every eye in the place lingered on him like cobwebs as he made his way to the bar.

"Ah, a newcomer, what’s your Resistance?" the bartender said in a businesslike fashion.

"Eighty," Will said, sitting at the bar.

"Tough guy, huh? Beer or spirits?" he asked, pulling out the tray labeled ’70+’ and fingering through the bottles to find one that would match his tolerance.

"Beer." Will replied.

"Beer? BEER!?" An oversized oaf dropped down onto a stool beside Will and stared down at him. "You just made it to the Sixth Floor, kid! Celebrate it! Drink! Drink like a real man!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Will spotted one of the bards creeping closer, the song radiating amiability growing stronger as she approached.

"Would a real man change his order because someone told him he should?" Will asked in his most neutral tone, accepting the beer from the bartender and placing a Strength ring they’d looted from a shark on the bar in payment.

"Well…" the oversized man frowned for a moment. "I suppose not, but Bill’s got the best liquor in The Flotilla and I always love to see noobs try it. I get to experience it for the first time vi…vicard…

"Vicariously," Will said. it was one of Loth’s Words of The Day.

The oversized man snapped his fingers. "That’s the word. How about this? I buy one shot for both of us, we drink, then you can nurse your pisswater the rest of the night?"

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"Sounds fine," Will said with a shrug. Might as well meet the guy halfway. Being an unlikeable stick-in-the-mud was nearly as dangerous as getting blackout drunk based on peer pressure.

The oversized man put a small dagger on the bar, which the bartender swiftly replaced with two shots of translucent brown liquid which he slid in front of the two of them.

Will reached over and took the one meant for the big man and slid the one meant for him over to his new friend, which caused their entire audience to burst into uproarious laughter.

"Look at the paranoid bullshit with this kid!" the oversized man shouted, patting Will’s shoulder. "You’re gonna last! I can tell!"

"No offence!" Will shouted back over the laughter. "I don’t know you!"

Will and the big man knocked back their drinks. Will made the mistake of exhaling a tiny bit while drinking, and somehow the vapors invaded his sinuses and forced his body to violently eject, forcing him to cough a little less than half the vile liquid across the bar.

What did make it down burned the whole way, filling his stomach with a strange ache and making it feel like he could breathe fire if someone would hand him a match.

The bartender, perhaps having anticipated this in advance, stood far outside the splash zone before swiftly wiping the liquor up.

"Uuugh," Will groaned when the coughing and laughter finally died down.

"’sgood innit?" The oversized man asked with a wide grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Agree to disagree," Will rasped, taking a swig of his beer to wash the taste out of his mouth before offering his hand.

"Will."

"Marcus."

"So what’s your plan, Will, you gonna hire your crew onto one of the Beginner Barges, grind a bit and catch a ride up to the Seventh? Most people don’t wanna stay here any longer than necessary. No offence, Bill."

"None taken," The bartender said with a shrug. "It’s not for everybody."

"No, we’ve got our own boat." Will said, shaking his head. "But other than that, yeah, we’re just planning on resupplying, maybe get some jobs to keep the bread flowing, grind out our levels, then move on."

"I wouldn’t recommend grinding by yourself," Marcus said, his voice lowering. "The Floor has gotten more dangerous over the last month. Storms are more violent, the critters have been more numerous and they seem to strike at the exact worst time. You saw the wrecks on the way in, didn’t you?"

It’s been getting more dangerous ever since Frederick Wyrd and Baron Akul died, Will thought silently.

"I did see the wrecks." Will mused. "Almost became one a couple times."

"You’ve got your own boat?" One of the onlookers said, leaning on Will’s shoulder and breathing booze into his face. "That’s horse shit, no newcomer has their own boat. All ships come from here, we haven’t gotten one from the outside since that…ghost…ship." The man paled at Will’s expression and peeled his hand away from Will’s shoulder, stumbling backwards.

"Gotta pee," he said, weaving away.

"Shimmer?" Marcus asked. "That leviathan-bone dreadnaught abomination everyone’s been talking about? That’s you?"

Will shrugged as the sound of conversation in The Bridge faded away, even the bards stopping their enchanting song to eavesdrop on their conversation.

For one moment, everything was silent as every ear in the place leaned closer.

"Will…William Oh?" Marcus asked.

"…That’s me." Will admitted.

"For a living legend, you sure can’t handle your drink." Marcus said with wry smile.

"I’m fifteen, asshole." Will replied, glancing around him at the crowd that had gone from amiable to hungry. "Never drank liquor before."

"Well, you better brace yourself." Marcus said. "Because you’re about to receive the biggest newbie hazing The Flotilla has ever seen."

"He stepped on my coat on the way in!" One onlooker said, standing from his seat, holding up a coat with a bootprint on it that didn’t match Will’s foot. "I demand satisfaction!"

"He wiped fish grease on my chair!"

"He talked shit about my mother!"

All blatantly untrue, but it wasn’t about truth, it was about testing a Legend.

"Hold my beer," Will said, sliding his drink across the bar.