CHRONICLES of a PC Gamer Stuck Inside an RPG (Book One: Duelist)

Chapter 2

I stood in front of the inn. It was a fairly long, two floors building which took up almost half the city block. The double doors in the middle of the building were wide open, beckoning me to enter. While the first floor had only a handful of windows, the second floor had nearly double the number of windows, presumably for guest rooms. A big, wooden sign was placed right above the doors, with the words, "The Noble Lady," written in gold letters.

Without further delay, I boldly strolled into the establishment. I looked around and saw that it was fairly well lit, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the middle of the ceiling. The air inside the inn was stuffy and stank of sweat and alcohol. The environment reminded me of college, when I was a lot more social and used to hang out for hours during the evenings in nearby bars. I know I don't look it now, with my receding hairline and my slight beer belly, but I used to be quite a ladies' man.

There were numerous wooden tables and accompanying benches on either side of the large common room. Further back was the bar, with the requisite bar table and stools in front of the table and bottles of wines and spirits behind it. Hanging above the wine shelves was the mounted head of an enormous boar; underneath the trophy was a double axe. To the left of the bar was a staircase while to the right was a set of swinging doors that apparently led to the kitchen.

Despite the early hour in the morning, the place was half full already, with dirty looking patrons sitting at the tables and eating simple bowls of oatmeal embellished with nuts and berries. The patrons were an assorted mix of humans . . . and demi-humans! There were elves and dwarves, gnomes and dryads, and ANIMALS who stood upright like humans! I tried very hard not to stare at the animal people. I admit that I had a secret fetish for cat girls. Calm down Larry!

A waitress in a daringly tight fitting low cut red blouse and equally dangerously short, navy skirt rising above mid-thigh approached me. The female human appeared to be thirty-something years old with long, luscious brown hair, hazy blue eyes, and a warm smile which she put to great effect. "Sir, are you in need of breakfast or a room?" she asked with an accent that I couldn't recognize.

I stared blankly at this lovely woman for a moment when I noticed a floating caption above her head that read: "Name: Amelica, Level: ?, Disposition: Friendly." What the heck was this?

The waitress waved her hand in front of my face. "Uh, sir?" Not getting a response, she tried a different tactic and looked above my head. "Uh, Lawrence?"

Huh? How did she know my name? The shock quickly knocked my mind back to reality. "I'm sorry. But how do you know my name?" I asked politely.

She pointed at the floating caption above my head. "It said your name is 'Lawrence,'" the waitress replied. She drew closer to my face and peered into my eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked with great concern and sympathy. My disposition was "Confused."

I inhaled the sweet fragrance drifting into my nostrils. She smelled of peach and apricot. "I'm sorry. I seem to have drunk too much last night. My mind is still foggy," I lied. Yeah, it was only a half-truth (the foggy mind part), but it was the best excuse I could come up with right now without making myself look like an idiot.

"I'm Amelica," she said sweetly while pointing at the floating caption above her head. "Please take a seat. I will bring you a cup of warm milk with honey. It'll help you clear your head," she promised and offered another warm smile.

Before I could reply, Amelica shot back into the kitchen. I couldn't help but stare at those finely toned, shapely legs before they disappeared from view. I decided to follow her suggestion and took a corner seat at a less occupied table. I cradled my forehead in my sweaty palms and leaned my elbows on the table.

What the heck was going on? The last thing I remembered was trying to finish the chapter that I was writing and have it ready for Cindy, the editor from hell. Apparently, I fell asleep on my workstation. When I woke up, I ended up here, wherever "here" was. But the strangest things were these floating captions. That, plus the presence of non-humans, seemed to suggest that I somehow pulled a "Tron" and ended up inside a fantasy gaming world.

I took a deep breath as I gave more thought to my situation. As a fantasy writer, I knew that this was a common theme in litRPG novels. Why I was transported to this world may never be known. I may have inadvertently offended some deity, and was sent here as punishment. I may have died in real life and was reincarnated to this world. If we wanted to get more sci-fi-ish, I could have phased into another dimension or universe. This world could be an alternate Earth, for all I knew.

Be that as it may, the most important thing now was my survival. How could I level up my character and become stronger? How could I make money to buy food and shelter? Hell, while we were at it, how was I going to pay for my milk with honey? With great casualness, I patted myself and tried to feel for a wallet on my person. Aha! Jackpot! I felt a pouch in front of my left hip, hidden behind the sheath holding the dagger. I squeezed the pouch and felt many coins inside.

I dug two fingers in and felt around the pouch. The pouch was really a small pocket cleverly sewn into the waistband of my tights. With the way the tights clung to my legs, leaving nothing to the imagination, it was unlikely for anyone to reach for my waist—unless he or she was planning to reach for something lower. But given my current predicament, I wasn't planning to visit a brothel anytime soon.