Darkness.

  He felt the usual jolt at the base of his neck.

  The voice whispered:

  

  
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    Entering system
  
    


  

  

  
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    Player logged in
  
    


  

  A flash.

  The game slowly took shape, like sand flowing through an hourglass, each grain in its place. The smell of earth and rusty iron pleasantly overwhelmed him: he was finally back inside. He was in the shed. The buckets, shovels, rakes: everything was now cloaked in darkness. Not enough light came in through the small window of the tool shed to make out the outlines, but Nico was sure of one thing: he was still alone. He began to wander around the shed. His muscles ached from training, but it was always nice for him to feel his left leg free to bend. He decided to wander around, idly browsing while waiting for the others to come online. He saw many sprouts arranged in terracotta pots on a wooden table; he picked one up, in the moonlight filtering through the small window. He touched a leaf: it seemed to move at his touch, despite the semi-darkness. He caressed it again and the leaf wrapped itself around his finger.

  He laughed to himself.

  "Hey! You're the first one," said a male voice behind him.

  He jumped; the vase slipped from his hand and crashed onto the wooden table. A chain reaction followed. He watched, unable to intervene, as the vase fell to the floor. He saw a figure move, then heard the sound of breaking glass. In the darkness, Nico could only make out the silhouette, but it was enough to recognize him.

  "Too bad, it broke," Leo muttered.

  "You almost gave me a heart attack," said Nico, looking at his friend with a tight smile.

  "What's up? Are you thinking of settling down in the castle and becoming a gardener?" said Leo.

  Nico shook his head but didn't answer. Behind him, a female voice whispered, "Hi, guys."

  Nico turned around smiling. "Hi Kiah, so we're all here," he said.

  "Have you decided what you want to do? Are you coming with us?" Leo asked Kiah.

  Kiah didn't answer right away; then she sighed. "I don't want to disobey orders, I don't want to be expelled, but I'm tempted to hear Dan recite a ballad."

  She sighed again. "I'll come with you. But it's my way."

  They walked back along the road they had taken a few hours earlier, heading for the kitchens, their hoods pulled over their heads. The moonlight, high in the sky, bathed the gravel path on which their boots crunched. They clutched bundles of pungent-smelling herbs, gathered and wrapped in rags. Kiah had warned them not to let even a single leaf escape from the bundle: if anyone noticed, the plan could be ruined.

  They arrived at the gate through which the carts carrying food supplies entered and exited. Two guards were loitering in front of the gate.

  "Hello, soldier. My name is Mara and these are my companions: we need to get out."

  "No", said one of the soldiers in a nasal voice. He was a short guy; wrinkling his huge potato nose, he muttered: "What's that awful smell?"

  "That's what I was about to tell you: it's widow's grass. It can only be picked on the second night after the summer solstice, at midnight."

  "So what? What the hell do I care? Go away, you brats," said the short soldier in a nasal voice. The other one chuckled.

  "Do you know the widows of silence?" asked Kiah dryly.

  The soldier nodded, "The ones who take care of the dead," he said "So what?"

  The other soldier jumped. "Shh, don't talk like that about the widows of silence: they bring bad luck, those old women."

  Nico laughed from under his hood.

  "Well, it's a very rare herb. It's dried and a pinch is added to the burial oil to promote a long and peaceful sleep. It must be put out to dry on the night it is picked, in the moonlight." Kiah paused, thoughtful. "But tell me, what's your name, soldier?"

  "Mark Stone. Why?" muttered the man in a nasal voice.

  "Well, because now that I know your name, and since you won't let us through, tomorrow I'll have no choice but to notify the widow superior: she'll take the necessary measures. Have a good evening." With that, Kiah turned to leave, her back to the guards. Nico, followed by Leo, followed her.

  Nico heard an excited buzz behind him; then the guard with the bulbous nose shouted in a nasal voice: "Wait, we'll let you through."

  "What about the return trip?" asked Leo.

  "Do you have to return?" asked the soldier in a nasal voice.

  "Well, of course: Master Tom is waiting for us. We're the new assistants."

  The man frowned thoughtfully, then said: "Try to return through this gate before dawn. We don't want any trouble with the captain."

  The three nodded and passed through.

  The upper town welcomed them in absolute silence: the streets were deserted and, at that hour, everyone in the large houses of the nobles was asleep.

  When they had left the palace behind them, Leo exploded: "Kiah, you were great," he said, throwing his bundle of herbs on the ground. "An excellent liar."

  Kiah laughed, freeing himself of his burden; Nico did the same.

  "How did you know about widow's grass? And that I smell like goblin teeth?" Nico asked admiringly.

  "Well, I read it in a book," Kiah said modestly. "Celeste got me permission to enter the royal library and..."

  "And that's where you decided to devote yourself to botany", said Leo sarcastically.

  Kiah shot Leo a fiery glance. "No, idiot: I was looking for a book on the customs and traditions of Darsis, and it mentioned the widows of silence." Kiah shook her head, then added: "Widow's grass only grows in cemeteries. It is said that adding a pinch to burial oils helps the dead connect with other deceased people to become part of the whole. Very beautiful, isn't it? But no one really knows that it only grows in cemeteries: it is easy to confuse it with goblin tooth, a weed. I took advantage of general ignorance."

  "You're great, Kiah", said Nico, laughing.

  They passed through the upper town and arrived in the lower town. Here, life was still in full swing: muffled music and laughter filled the streets, while the smell of salt hung in the air.

  "Does anyone know where this stuffed bear is?" asked Kiah, looking around with a bewildered expression.

  Nico and Leo didn't answer: they thought it would be easier to find their way around without too many people around and find the inn.

  "What?" asked Kiah, not expecting an answer. "Are we wandering around without knowing where to go?"

  "Well, we know there's a huge stuffed bear outside the inn", said Nico, trying to reassure Kiah.

  "Oh, you know that? Congratulations, great job. It'll be a piece of cake to find the inn in a city as big as Taynor. But did you know that Taynor..."

  "There it is!" exclaimed Leo.

  Nico laughed. "What were you saying?"

  They approached the door. On the side was a huge brown bear, two meters tall or perhaps more: it was stuffed in a snarling pose. The inn's sign, hanging on well-oiled hinges, creaked slightly in the sea breeze. There was no name on the sign, just a drawing of a full-length, snarling bear.

  They heard a noise in the alley: a man of about forty was coming out of a door, from which came a clatter of pots and pans. He grabbed something from under a canopy where sacks, barrels, a ladder, and a pile of lids and pots were stacked in a rather disorderly fashion, then headed for a wooden shack from which came a faint smell of manure and horses.

  They went inside and the acrid smell of smoke, beer, and roasted meat hit Nico. The clamor of the room, filled with people laughing heartily, made Nico smile. Here, he told himself, they would have fun.

  Nico noticed that, amid the laughter, Dan was throwing knives around a busty waitress dressed in skimpy clothes; leaning against the wall, she let out little screams, halfway between fear and amusement, with each throw. Dan smiled at the crowd.

  "How about this?" said Dan, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and blindfolding himself.

  Everyone laughed and burst into applause and banging on the tables. The only one to cry out "No!" was the young waitress, but that cry only increased the excitement in the room.

  Dan, his eyes covered by the handkerchief, pulled the dagger from his jacket sleeve and, in the stunned silence, threw it.

  An ovation erupted in the room.

  Dan lifted one side of the handkerchief, looked with feigned fear, and then removed it. He waved the cloth in the air and bowed; immediately afterwards, he crossed the room, took the waitress's trembling hand, and bowed again with her.

  "Well done, Sonia! Give her a good tip: she deserves it!" exclaimed Dan.

  Nico saw the waitress's face, white as a sheet, smile at her moment of fame. Then Dan pulled her close and put something in her hand: Nico thought it was a coin for her trouble. Dan kissed her on the cheek. The waitress melted into a languid gaze; Dan looked at the three of them and winked.

  Nico smiled and nodded.

  "You're a fantastic audience! I'm going to wet my whistle and water the plants; then I'll be back," said Dan in a loud, booming voice.

  After applauding, the people in the inn resumed chatting in a more subdued murmur.

  Nico and the others approached Dan.

  "You were great!" Nico exclaimed, caught up in the euphoria.

  "Yeah. Great," Leo said dryly.

  Dan laughed. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked.

  "I thought you invited us," Kiah said with a tight smile.

  Dan laughed. "I wouldn't say that, but now that you're here, come on over: that's my table."

  They followed him into a corner next to the door that probably led to the kitchen. Nico could hear the clatter of pots and pans mixed with the head chef's shouted orders: they were definitely still cooking, despite the late hour. The people in the inn didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave.

  Dan pulled a stringed instrument with a rounded, shell-shaped body and short neck from the table and asked, "Have you had dinner?"

  "We're starving," Leo said dryly. "Gareth has left us hungry."

  Dan laughed, nodded to the knife waitress, and she came over promptly. "Could you bring something for my guests?" Dan said, winking at her. She laughed and scurried off to the kitchen with a smile on her face.

  "You're good with the ladies, huh?" Leo said, his voice sharp.

  "It's the minstrel air that does most of the work," Dan said with a smile.

  When they had polished off every last scrap of mutton stew with potatoes and talked about training and the fight with Mark, Corvin's henchman, Dan got up. "I'm going to have a chat with the innkeeper: I need to find out if he wants me to come back tomorrow. Don't overdo it with the beer."

  Kiah and Leo, between sips of beer, were heatedly discussing the game dynamics that Leo found simply unacceptable. After venting about experience points, which, apparently, were completely invisible in the game, he began complaining that he still didn't have any weapons. Then, with growing exasperation, he moved on to criticizing the current mission: instead of going around hunting monsters, they found themselves stuck in endless training with the most unbearable teacher in the world, Gareth Stormwater, guardian of the ghost princess.

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  Nico smiled at that statement, remembering that when they had seen the princess, she had been covered in veils from head to toe.

  Nico, sitting in the corner between Kiah and Leo, looked around the room, fascinated by the life that this simulation of reality was able to show. There were languages he didn't understand, and figures that were different from the others, not only in skin color or clothing. At one table, two creatures with tentacled faces conversed amiably while a waitress served them, with a slightly disgusted look, a greenish, steaming broth. At another table, two girls with greenish skin, veiled by luminescent moss and with eyes like fireflies, chatted coquettishly with a young stone golem whose thin veins were like threads of fire. The golem laughed, and Nico saw his breath produce small trails of steam and sparks; the cups on the table trembled slightly.

  Then, amid the cacophony, Nico caught a snippet of conversation coming from a table to Leo's left.

  "Let's take him out, Varo: if he doesn't pay, they'll kill him. It's simple", said some.

  The name “Varo” caught his attention. Nico turned around. At that table, four men with pockmarked faces and hollow knuckles were crouched down, their faces turned toward a man with a large gold earring in his right lobe: the network of wrinkles painted a cruel face.

  "No, that's a good chicken to pluck:" said Varo in a low voice "his wife. The farm outside the city is hers; we could force the woman to give it up to pay off her husband's debts."

  "Great idea, Varo: that's why you're the boss," said one of the henchmen, a huge guy with a squint.

  "So? Where is he?" asked a stocky man with huge, almost feminine lips.

  "He should already be here, but he's nowhere to be seen", said the cross-eyed man. "Take a look around the inn. Ask around. If that dog doesn't show up,

  I swear I'll burn his house down with his wife and children inside."

  Nico was horrified. "Guys, do you remember Corvin?" he whispered to his two friends.

  The two nodded.

  "What is it? Why are you talking so quietly?" exclaimed Leo.

  Nico put a finger to his lips. "Shut up!" he whispered.

  Leo approached Nico, his neck stretched out. "Don't turn around yet: he'll look at Kiah first, then you," he whispered.

  Then, turning to Kiah, he added, "Do you see the guy at the table behind Leo? The one with the earring?" Kiah nodded and motioned to Leo, who turned quickly.

  "Wait, can I do that again? I didn't see him clearly", Leo muttered under his breath.

  "No", whispered Nico, the word scratching his throat like a stifled roar. He cleared his throat and continued: "That's Varo; I think he's Corvin's father".

  "So what?" said Kiah. "You know from Remus: he's not a good person, but..." he added, holding back the rest.

  "I heard they're planning a beating," Nico said in a whisper.

  "Who? Where?" asked Leo, starting to get agitated.

  "Hey, look: someone's approaching Varo's table," said Kiah.

  Nico and the others listened intently.

  "Boss, I heard he started work tonight: he's out back with the horses," said a voice.

  Nico saw Varo nod. The man stretched his neck over his interlocutor and shouted, "Hey, minstrel, get a move on and sing us a song."

  Dan, who was chatting with the innkeeper, smiled and said to him, "The audience is calling for me, my friend; as you can see, you're not getting a bad deal."

  Varo muttered, "That boor makes me laugh. Let's see another act and then go beat up that scum: I'll stick his face in manure; he's used to it anyway, working with horses."

  Nico instinctively jumped to his feet, grabbed Dan's strange guitar by the neck and handed it to him.

  Dan laughed. "Why are you giving me the lute here? I perform on stage," he said. Then he looked at him more closely: "Are you all right, boy? You're as pale as a ghost," he added, grabbing the instrument.

  Nico shook his head "We need your help to stop a beating."

  In the stable, the smell of hay, horses, and manure was so strong that it brought tears to Nico's eyes. Nico moved nervously among the shadows; the horses looked at him with eyes that seemed too intelligent, as if they were plotting something.

  The man Nico had seen lifting that heavy sack before they entered the inn was called Sam.

  Dan, near the front door, was passing a rope around a beam; Nico could see him moving skillfully.

  The man in his forties, with a receding hairline and deep dark circles under his hollow cheeks, raised his arms agitatedly.

  Sam stammered: "No, stop. I don't think it's a good idea. It'll only make things worse, they'll punch me and..."

  Nico, who was shoveling manure into buckets, turned and wrinkled his nose at the smell.

  "Don't you understand? They have a plan for you and your wife's farm. Trust me: it'll be a lesson to remember."

  Leo intervened, holding his nose with two fingers and holding a pot of decomposing leftovers with the other. "What did you do to end up like this?" he added curtly.

  Sam sighed and said, his voice breaking, "As you know, my wife has a small farm. Last year the harvest was good and we wanted to buy some cows. But I fell for a scam: he sold me two sick cows, and the disease was hidden by a spell. We were left without money, so I asked for a loan."

  "And Varo stepped in," said Nico, already knowing the answer.

  Sam nodded slowly. "He said he was worried about my children... he was so kind," he murmured, his voice breaking. "At first."

  Dan commented, pulling the rope with a slight effort: "I always am, at first."

  "Then he started asking for more, first verbally. I couldn't pay; the debt grew with interest. Now..." Sam's words died in his throat; he covered his face with his hands.

  Dan placed a hand on Sam's shoulder: "Come on, cheer up." Then he pointed to the net stretched out in front of the door. "The net is ready. Let's put the three buckets in: two of manure, one of rotten food, a few lids to make noise and attract people, some straw, and we're done. We'll lift them up with the rope, and when they're in front of the door... BAM." He slammed his fist into his hand, his eyes burning. "It'll all fall on those bastards. Sam, you take care of the hook: it has to hold until the last second, got it?"

  Kiah added tensely, "A small flame, controlled fire. The rope will burn and we'll soak them good."

  "Perfect. I'm leaving now: I don't want to be associated with this, I work here, remember?" said Dan, heading for the back door leading to the kitchens.

  As he disappeared, his voice came from the kitchen: "Unbelievable how much beer a man can hold!" he exclaimed amid the laughter of cooks and kitchen boys. Then he poked his head out just enough for Nico and the others in the stable to see him and winked. "What do you say, gentlemen? Shall I move straight on to mead?"

  The door closed behind him and silence returned to the stable; only the slow breathing of the horses broke the air thick with hay and fear.

  When Nico and Leo returned to the inn, the smell of sweat and beer hit them like a warm wall. Nico felt it like a blow to the chest. His arms and back felt sore. The air, compared to before, no longer had a festive tone; it was subdued, muffled, as if everyone were holding their breath.

  Nico noticed that the silent patrons were facing the stage: Dan was strumming his lute with a slow, almost funeral-like melody. The bodies around him seemed suspended, leaning toward the music, waiting for something.

  Everything was ready.

  They had told Sam to pretend to feel ill in the kitchen.

  Sam hesitated, but agreed only after remembering that the head chef was a friend of his wife's, a reliable witness in case anyone accused him of complicity with Nico, Leo, and Kiah.

  Varo sat at his usual table, a heavy mug in his hand. His henchmen stood around him, ready to spring at the slightest sign. Nico remembered that the man had said he wanted to listen to the minstrel before beating Sam up.

  A final toast to cruelty, Nico thought.

  Dan's melody became more urgent, with a rhythm that broke the tension; then Dan began, with the music in the background, speaking rapidly, sharply, full of irony.

  "Wake up early, my son, the world is falling!"

  said his mother, waving her arms,

  "If these are the King's heroes,

  Nothingness will laugh and then swallow them up!"

  And there was young Beren,

  between sheets and dreams, still unaware of his destiny,

  looking at the light that stung his eyes

  and asking only: "What time is it, anyway?"

  Then his good father entered,

  with a big belly and a sincere heart,

  a sugar mustache and a voice like a drum.

  A tray in his hands, he offers the poor tribute.

  "You, son" said the proud father,

  "you have been summoned. The King has chosen you, poor you.

  The tailors have sewn, the sorcerers have prayed,

  and now you wear the destiny that has found you!"

  They will show you shining swords and bows,

  glittering with enchantments and bright light,

  "They are for hunting the ferocious Nerakth,

  shadows that the Nothingness gave birth to every night."

  "They were men once, you know,

  now they walk twisted and mute,

  the Nothingness consumes them from within,

  until all that remains is hunger and the sound of teeth."

  He asked quietly, as if afraid:

  "But Dad, I'm scared, will the king help us?"

  His father sighed, bread in hand,

  "He wants to cut gangrene out of the whole world.

  But those who went before you...

  never return, nor write farewell letters, alas."

  And then, in the silence smelling of butter and honey,

  the good father laughed softly:

  "Come on, gather your strength, eat and drink,

  for Nothingness cannot be fought on an empty stomach,

  and may the light accompany you...

  until you finish your meal!"

  He held out his hand and said mockingly:

  "Good luck,

  may your heart be steadfast, your sword straight...

  and may you return unharmed.

  Then tell me what Nothingness is like,

  for now, I will enjoy milk and life

  while you fight fiercely against the Nothingness that challenges us."

  Nico listened spellbound to Dan's story: a ballad veiled in anger, a not-so-subtle criticism of the king's summons.

  On reflection, Nico thought Dan was right: many of those training for battle against the Nothing were little more than boys. Perhaps Dan could see further than anyone else: kings always think of their own interests.

  The room was plunged into a deathly silence, broken only by the sound of the lute. Then, from a corner, someone shouted: "Hey, minstrel, we're not here to be bored!"

  Another laugh followed: "Yeah, sing something more cheerful!"

  Leo nudged Nico, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  "Hey, I've got beer", said Leo, raising a mug.

  But Leo's eyes weren't laughing: to Nico, they seemed full of panic and agitation.

  Nico nodded, unable to speak. His heart was pounding in his chest like a crazy drum, and his stomach was tied in a tight knot. His feet felt heavy, as if his brain was struggling to decide whether to move them or stay still.

  Near Varo's table, Nico snapped at Leo: "Listen, you're annoying me. Stop pushing me or I'll knock you out."

  The buzz of the room and Dan's lute fell silent.

  "Oh, really?" Leo said, his voice trembling, waving his mug. "Then come here and show me what you can do."

  Nico pretended to push; Leo dodged him and, as planned, spilled beer on Varo's head.

  The room seemed to fill with tension. Varo shouted, jumping to his feet: "Get them!"

  Nico and Leo, quick as hares, rushed towards the kitchen door.

  Opening the door, they were hit by the delicious smells of stew and roast pork that permeated the kitchen of the Stuffed Bear. The room was warm from the ovens: the large brick fireplace spewed smoke and light. Waiters, assistant cooks, and sweaty kitchen hands bustled about under the orders of the head cook, a sturdy woman wearing a white apron that contrasted with her face reddened by the heat. The head cook waved a large wooden spoon like a scepter and, when she saw them, shouted, "Get out of my kitchen!"

  Nico and Leo ignored her, dodging a boy carrying dishes, and slipped out the back door.

  Behind them, the group of thugs burst in; chaos erupted: screams, broken dishes, the shouting of the crowd pouring into the alley from the kitchen and the main entrance.

  Nico and Leo returned to the barn, panting. Nico's throat and lungs burned, not from running, but from the agitation that took his breath away.

  Leo pointed to the ladder leading up to the hayloft.

  "They're coming! They're coming, Kiah, hurry!" Leo shouted, leaning against the ladder, excited.

  Kiah, from above, gasped, "I can't. I'm too nervous."

  Nico looked around, saw a knife in a leather sheath hanging from a nail near the door, and grabbed it. He ran towards the taut rope Dan had prepared. The rope, stretched tight and hooked to an iron ring, ran to a beam where three buckets full of manure and scraps hung, along with lids and straw. He began to cut it frantically. "Hurry up, Nico!" Kiah whispered from the loft.

  The rope was easy to cut, but the weight stretched it so much that the knife slipped in his sweaty hand. His heart was pounding as the fibers loosened one by one.

  "Damn, damn, damn..." Leo repeated, halfway down the ladder, waving the now empty mug that, for some reason, he still clutched in his hand.

  Then Kiah shouted, "Here they are!"

  Nico saw Varo's gold earring glinting before his eyes, then the man's hand reached out to grab him, his eyes hungry.

  The rope gave way. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then a viscous thud exploded in the barn. The floor shook and a wave of stench, a mixture of garbage and manure, rose like an explosion.

  Nico dropped the knife, dodged Varo, and leaped toward the stairs.

  The wood creaked under his footsteps, his breath wheezed in his throat. The air on the loft smelled of dust, iron, and wet straw.

  He leaned over the loft and looked down.

  Varo and his gang lay on the ground or on their knees, covered in slime up to their hair. Some were holding their heads, others were trying to clean themselves; their expressions, at first surprised, then turned to disgust when they realized what they had been drenched in.

  Leo, who until a moment before seemed to have forgotten the mug clutched in his hand, suddenly remembered it. Nico saw him lift it and throw it down: the blow hit the cross-eyed man squarely, who whimpered like a child, bringing his hands to his head.

  "Take that!" Leo shouted, bursting out laughing.

  Nico laughed and shouted, "Hey, Varo! Do you like the smell? You're finally in your element!"

  The loft was a maze of beams and bales of hay. Moonlight filtered through a large opening in the wall, protected only by a rickety wooden plank: the large window from which hay was thrown into the carts.

  Leo pushed her gently: the board gave way with a groan.

  "There," whispered Kiah, pointing to the shed next door, a couple of meters below them.

  Nico leaned over. The rain of the past few days had left everything shiny and slippery. Below, the mud in the alley reflected the murky glow of the oil lamps on the street.

  Don't think about it, Nico thought, then jumped. His knees buckled on impact, but he remained standing. Leo and Kiah followed immediately after him; the wood of the canopy groaned under their weight.

  A cry behind them. They ran over the edge, down into the alley, away from the stench of manure and the roar of the crowd laughing and shouting. The upper city awaited them beyond the maze of narrow streets, with its walls and royal palace, their only hope of salvation.