Chapter 12 Frost

Josh laughed as Charlie stuck two baby carrots in his mouth like tusks and launched into a spot-on impression of their math teacher.

“I can’t unsee it,” Josh barked, nearly choking on his milk. “You even got the nose flare. That’s illegal.”

He jabbed a carrot toward his friend, grinning. “Good. Now I won’t be the only one laughing in his face next time he launches into that whole ‘quadratic justice’ nonsense.”

The cafeteria buzzed with midday chaos, trays clattering, kids shouting over one another, the air thick with the scent of greasy pizza, overcooked green beans, and melting orange slushies. Somewhere in the corner, a soda bottle dropped and hissed, spinning under a table. A staff member yelled. No one cared.

Just as Charlie opened his mouth to reply, a shadow fell across their table.

A boy Josh didn’t recognize stood in front of them,he was older, slim, muscly build, and stone-faced. A senior. The kind of guy who wore tension like a badge. His jaw was tight, his eyes scanning until they locked on Josh.

The noise at their table died instantly.

Even Charlie leaned back.

Except Orlando.

He looked away, shrinking into his hoodie like he was hoping to vanish.

The stranger’s eyes swept over Josh again before he spoke.

“I heard your mother plays Thirian.”

Josh blinked. “Uh… yeah? What?”

“I’m Lucas Simmons,” the guy said flatly. “Golden Panthers. We’re one of the top-tier guilds in Veron. And I heard from your friend” he nodded toward Orlando, “that your mom’s already in Falkenhide.”

He crossed his arms. “That’s impossible. Even for guild players. So I came to check.”

Josh and Charlie both turned to stare at Orlando.

He mouthed, Sorry, shrinking deeper into his seat. “I was just bragging,” he whispered. “He wouldn’t shut up about his guild.”

Lucas ignored him. His gaze stayed fixed on Josh.

“I need you to tell me how your mother did it.”

Josh exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm.

“Dude, there’s like ten ways to get there. They’re all over the forums—quests, reputation with local town lords. It’s not a secret.”

Lucas shook his head. “No. We know the methods. We’ve tried all of them. It’s hard. Damn near impossible to survive the monster surges. Caravans get wiped. No one’s pulled it off. And then your buddy here starts bragging that some random mom managed it?”

His voice rose as he stepped forward. “Obviously I’m gonna ask!”

Josh threw Orlando a look, frowning. Then he turned back.

“Relax. I know people are making bank selling info and power-leveling, but I honestly don’t know how she did it. She’s obsessed with herbs or something. I don’t think she’s out there fighting monsters.”

He squared his shoulders.

“But even if I did know the trick?”

He met Lucas’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t tell you. So back the fuck off.”

Lucas’s posture tightened. For a second, Josh thought he might actually throw a punch. Then Lucas laughed—short, sharp—and ran a hand through his dreadlocks, puffing his cheeks in a way that spoke of exasperation.

Josh and the others had obviously flinched despite themselves, believing a senior might actually hit them over a game.

Charlie, as if shaking off his initial fear, stood abruptly, his chair scraping loud across the linoleum. Orlando rose next, sheepish but defensive. Then Charlie, red-faced now, stepped in front of Josh like a wall.

“Back off. It’s a game.”

Lucas sneered, looking over his shoulder at his friends as if they'd share a laugh. “It’s more than a game. For some of us, Thirian is a second world. And you rich-town brats—using your dad’s credit to buy high-end gear and gourmet food buffs? Yeah, you’re an eyesore. One I’ll gladly drop to level zero in-game.”

He shoved past Charlie, shoulder-checking him hard, and stalked out of the cafeteria, followed by his friends.

The tension snapped like an overstretched wire.

Orlando let out a long, shaky breath.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he muttered. “I was at the park playing basketball and he just kept talking big about his guild and their kills. I got sick of it. Said they weren’t shit because your mom did more than all of them a week ago. I didn’t think he’d track me down at school over it.”

Josh wiped his hands over his face. “Turns out Mom wasn’t lying. That game is serious... and we do not want the smoke.”

Charlie turned, pale. “Wait. Does he know our avatar names?”

Orlando shook his head quickly. “No. I didn’t say anything. Just mentioned your gear. He might try to find you, man. I didn’t mean to cause—”

Josh held up a hand. “It’s cool. Let’s just keep a low profile from now on.”

His voice dropped, serious now.

“And don’t talk in-game details in real life. Mom said the guilds are insane. Now I see it.”

They all nodded—quiet and unified in their agreement.

Despite the mess at lunch, the rest of Josh’s day passed without more trouble. By the time he met up with his mom after rehab, the encounter with Lucas felt like smoke—sharp in the moment, but already fading.

The day had been good, spent with Mom after his session. He’d thought about bringing it up, but she’d been so happy, even asking his opinion on where they should move next. Anywhere was fine by her.

He’d jokingly picked a lakeside beach town, mostly because it meant he could stay in school while living by the water. They’d spent the evening flipping through listings—comparing cozy beach houses to ridiculous mansions they had no business dreaming about, making plans several paychecks above reality.

He’d loved every second of it.

But living away from her… it was starting to take its toll.

Not in a way he knew how to explain—not to her, not to Dad.

How did an almost-adult like him say: I miss you. I need you?

He couldn’t.

Dad got all the little things wrong. The wrong cereal. Shampoo that made him itch. Forgot to pick up his contacts, so he wore glasses most days. The house was messy. They ate too much takeout. And worst of all?

There was nothing of Willow in that house.

They didn’t even talk about her.

Josh was afraid to bring her up.

With Mom, though? Willow was always welcome. She was part of the conversation—remembered, laughed about, imagined like she was still nearby. Even the fake houses they browsed online had rooms they'd pretend were hers.

All those differences?

They were slowly tearing at him.

But still… he couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

He knew how much this chair must be costing his mom, and finding out she’d been living in a motel had nearly broken him. So how could he complain about cereal? Or shampoo?

For the hundredth time, he looked over at his dad—wondering why he’d been in such a rush that day. Why he’d chanced the light. Why he’d ruined everything in one blink.

But, like most of his fears, Josh swallowed it down.

Rolled with the punches.

Did his best to give both parents grace.

Because at the end of the day… they’d all lost Willow.

And life didn’t stop.

Not even in the moments everything hurt in ways hard to imagine would ever heal.

As the day neared its end, Josh grinned, happy to rejoin Thirian.

There, none of the mess of real life mattered.

No bills. No cereal. No silence.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

In Thirian, he was Frost.

Frost turned, a grin stretching across his face as he spotted his friends. “What’s up, bros?” he asked, twirling his daggers with a practiced flair before holstering them in a quick spin.

Bass—Charlie—waved at him, and Hammerhead—Orlando—nodded in greeting.

Hammerhead slung an arm around Frost’s shoulder. “Let’s go herb hunting for that NPC who only gives you the cool quests—you know, the ones with better pay. It’s totally unfair.”

Frost chuckled. “That’s because I actually know more herbs than just about anyone else.”

Bass huffed, already dragging his feet. “Why is that? I can barely remember two.”

Frost rolled his eyes at them as they walked the familiar path toward Mr. Hubert’s cobbled cottage.

The village buzzed with early morning energy. Dew clung to the cobblestones, catching the pale sunlight as it filtered through the trees. Shop stalls were just opening, wooden shutters creaking as NPC vendors rolled out crates of goods. The smell of fresh bread and crushed herbs mingled on the breeze. Chickens darted across the village paths, clucking as players and villagers alike began their day.

But just before they reached the cottage, someone stepped into their path.

A man—tall, broad-shouldered, shield slung on his back—stood like a wall. His armor gleamed white and silver, polished to shine. His expression was smug, eyes scanning the three of them with condescension.

“Whoa there,” he said, lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Trying to walk past me? That’s brave.”

Frost narrowed his eyes, instincts already on edge.

“I’m George the Great,” the man continued, “of the White Clan guild. And this NPC? He’s now under our jurisdiction. Meaning… if you want to speak to him, there’s a toll.”

He gestured with an open palm, as if expecting them to simply hand over their coin.

“One-third of whatever you plan to give him goes to us. Also, if you receive any unusual quests, you are to invite one of our squad leaders to assist. Naturally, we split the loot and rewards. We’re not monsters. Just organized. So… state your business.”

Frost stared. The audacity left him speechless.

Bass, always the hothead, stepped forward. “You can’t do that. We paid to play this game just like you. Don’t make us your errand boys.”

Frost nodded. “We just want a simple herb quest. That’s it.”

George sneered. “Then scram, losers.”

Hammerhead quickly pulled the other two back. “Let’s just say we’ll pay the toll—only, we just logged in, so we don’t have any herbs yet.”

George squinted at them. “Fine. But I want to make sure you’re not lying. If you are, my men will kill you back to zero every time you leave the village.”

To their frustration and embarrassment, he demanded access to their bags. One by one, they complied, reluctantly linking their inventory for him to scan. When a screen popped up asking if they wanted to deny or allow shared access with player George the Great, they all affirmed.

George gave Frost a surprised look. His bag was full of snacks, gear, and tools—but, as promised, no herbs.

“Whatever,” George muttered. “Get lost.”

They walked around him and approached Mr. Hubert’s home.

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Mr. Hubert stood outside his shop, his robes fluttering in the breeze. His face lit up when he saw Frost.

“You’re back, young traveler!” he beamed. “I’m glad—your deliveries alone bring my research a great boon.”

Frost laughed. “Yeah, and apparently, I’m still the only one who brings herbs in one piece.”

Unlike most players, Frost used the harvesting method his mother had shown him—clean, efficient, and careful. The difference was clear: where other players tore through herbs and turned in mangled bundles, Frost’s deliveries came pristine. Mr. Hubert paid more for the same work and even trusted him with rare quests.

The old man’s smile faded as he looked past them toward the village path.

“I saw that gentleman stop you. It seems some travelers wish to monopolize my affairs.”

The boys exchanged glances—shocked that the NPC had commented on the drama.

Hammerhead crossed his arms. “Yeah, they’re guild players. Think numbers make them rulers of the server.”

Frost nodded. “It’s getting harder. New players pour into the starter towns daily, but the quest pool stays the same. Guilds see the opportunity and move in like landlords.”

Mr. Hubert scratched his beard, thoughtful.

A system prompt appeared in front of all three boys:

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📜 Notice: Mr. Hubert is moved by your plight and wishes to help.

🎉 Congratulations! You have unlocked a unique quest: The Plight of the Young.

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The old man produced a small token etched in bronze, a leaf crest stamped in the center.

“I only had one recommendation left,” he said. “The lords and guilds hoard the rest. But I’ll do you three a favor. Take this.”

He passed it to Frost with surprising formality.

“It’s a visitation token for Falkenhide. If you help me deliver this letter to my daughter, it will grant you legal passage to the city. While there, I suggest you seek apprenticeship. With luck, your visit slip may become citizenship.”

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📩 Quest Received: Deliver Mr. Hubert’s Letter

➤ Bonus Quest: Secure citizenship within Falkenhide

⏳ Time Limit: 72 hours

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Frost accepted without hesitation.

The three boys stared at one another, grinning, stunned.

“Guys,” Bass whispered, “I can’t believe it. Did that really just happen?”

“How can NPCs in this game react like that?” Hammerhead asked, wide-eyed.

Frost shook his head slowly. “This game’s too real. Going forward… we treat NPCs like people. Assume they know more than we do.”

They all nodded.

As they walked toward the carriage lodge—ticket in hand—George the Great watched from a distance, frowning. He’d assumed they’d be heading out to harvest, not into town.

Something about it gnawed at him.

He opened the party chat for the White Clan scouts.

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George the Great: “Tail those three. Quietly.”

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Not long after the order was given, his scouts sent urgent updates to the guild channel:

🚨 Update: The targets are heading for the carriage and cargo lodge.

He replied: That can’t be. They didn’t have the escort seal granted by the town lords. I checked—

He paused, then swore aloud.

George’s pulse kicked into high gear. He had inspected those bags himself. No Falkenhide token. Which meant they got it after. From Hubert.

An NPC bypassing game progression?

Up to now, the only known way to leave town was through:

• Lord Heinrich of Frentire Town

• Lord Bastian of Rosewilder’s Forest Town

• Lady Hummbert of Lucton Mine Town

• Lord Shevon of Blueshine Harbor

• Lady Tilton of Blacksteel Town

Those five NPCs had several quests one could complete to get the Falkenhide escort token. Yet those three had done no such thing.

This wasn’t just unusual—it was a problem.

Only lords were supposed to issue those tokens, and only after difficult, quest-locked triggers. This kind of open access… it wasn’t normal.

George sprinted through the town, muttering curses as he opened a voice channel with his superior—Commander Litch.

“Reporting a possible exploit or hidden trigger. Three unaffiliated players just boarded a Falkenhide-bound carriage. Token was NPC-issued—Hubert, the herbologist. Suggest we confirm with the NPC directly and alert partner guilds.”

By the time George and a few higher-ups reached the carriage lodge, it was too late.

The teens were already boarding—accompanied by several high-tier NPCs, mercenary types. From afar, the guild’s upper echelon could already tell: this wagon was NPC-protected. Unlike the carriages that required escort tokens from the five major town lords, this one was clearly bound for Falkenhide—but with stark differences.

George watched, frustrated, as the carriage rolled off.

“How the hell did they pull that off?” he muttered.

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Later that hour, George stood with his guild’s leadership outside Mr. Hubert’s herb shop. Representatives from Golden Panthers, Red Fang, and Earth Splitters stood nearby, summoned quickly after the anomaly report.

George recounted the incident with clipped efficiency. The shake-up. The mysterious departure of the trio. Then his attempt to interrogate the NPC.

“The NPC reprimanded me,” he said, still baffled. “Said I’d ‘bullied his business partners’ and that he was sending them to Falkenhide to further their ambitions in peace. Then he told me—flat out—that he won’t take herbs from me or anyone he deems associated with me going forward.”

A heavy pause followed.

“Wait,” muttered Team Leader Shadow of the Earth Splitters, face darkening, “You’re telling me an NPC saw player behavior and made a personal decision about it?”

“This puts the game’s whole system in question,” her commander Killshot replied, face grave. “If NPCs can react dynamically like that, then the game isn’t linear at all. We’re not just competing against each other—we’re being evaluated by the world itself.”

Red Fang’s commander, Wizard Oz, crossed his arms. “Exactly. It means the game world is far more sentient than we were told. Its intelligence… it’s leagues above the initial reports.”

George turned toward his own commander, who stepped forward with calm authority.

“We’ve reviewed the logs. There was no system-wide event. No triggered flags. This was localized NPC behavior. Spontaneous. And that changes everything.”

The gathered leaders fell silent. The implications were clear—and dangerous.

Standing just behind the guild officers was a younger player—Hidden Soul of the Golden Panthers. He’d been sent to observe, a rising talent meant to learn from the power players in Veron’s guild scene.

But now, something gnawed at him.

The photos taken by the scouts—one of the boys looked… familiar.

Especially the one with the sharp green eyes and messy black hair. He couldn’t place it exactly—something was off. The in-game version had a beard. But the shape of the eyes, the posture...

“I might know one of them,” Hidden Soul said quietly.

Heads turned.

“I go to school with a few guys who play Thirian. One of them… his mom supposedly made it to Falkenhide through herb gathering. When I heard your report, it kind of clicked. That kid—” he pointed at one of the photos, “he looks a lot like Josh.”

He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable under the sudden attention.

“I can’t be sure,” he added. “But the resemblance is there. I only know their real names, not their gamer tags. But it could be them.”

His words were enough.

Within minutes, guild scouts began pulling public in-game data, cross-referencing real names with forum chatter, school listings, and social profiles.

And soon, three names surfaced—linked not by in-game behavior, but by digital footprint:

• Josh Dawson

• Orlando Turner

• Charlie Coberstain

Through the social media of Josh Dawson, the identity of the suspected solo player already in Falkenhide was also flagged:

• Jen Dawson

The names weren’t confirmed. Not yet.

But the possibility was enough.

They were now flagged across at least four major guilds—linked by circumstantial data and placed under silent observation.

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🧠 Guild Intelligence Summary:

• Three players possibly fast-tracked into Falkenhide via NPC favoritism

• Entry method likely linked to herb-gathering + high-quality delivery

• Visitation token confirmed given by Mr. Hubert—bypassed standard quest gates

• Player behavior affected NPC disposition in unique, undocumented ways

• Suspected connection to Commander Fallek kingdom event: unconfirmed

• Suspected connection to the 21-man team thought to have reached Falkenhide first: unconfirmed

• Names under review: Josh Dawson, Orlando Turner, Charlie Coberstain, Jen Dawson

• Ongoing priority: confirm link between player X and Josh Dawson

For now, the matter remained unproven.

But it wouldn’t stay that way for long.