The next day, we found to our chagrin that we'd become minor celebrities amongst some of the players operating out of Horunka. One or more people had obviously paid Argo for details about the rumored PVP fight in the woods, and word had spread—embellished and exaggerated along the way—that we'd fought and taken down a would-be player killer.

With everyone still coming to terms with the prospect of being stuck in this world and facing the possibility of true death, no one wanted to admit that there were people who would actually still attack and kill another player with the full knowledge that it was murder. The romanticized story of a husband and wife who'd stood against a PKer and prevailed had apparently spread like wildfire through the town. When we first left our inn room and started down the stairs towards the common area, we were embarrassed—and greatly confused—to be greeted by applause and cheers from the room full of players having breakfast there. Several players stopped us to congratulate us on our way down, and a party of three hastily finished their meals and gave up their table when they saw us begin searching for a place to sit.

"Awkward," Camilla said in singsong English as we seated ourselves, most of the players in the room resuming their meals.

"Tell me about it," I said quietly. "Wonder what'll happen if Kibaou shows up and starts talking about what really happened."

"Or Agil. He'll never let us hear the end of it," Camilla added as she waved over the NPC waitress. "Why don't we put off this discussion until later?"

Before I could reply or order any food, I heard footsteps approaching our table. "Excuse me," said a swordsman wearing a few pieces of light plate armor. Stopping before us, he executed a deep bow, long hair in a shade of deep electric blue falling forward and shading his face. "Would you permit me to intrude for a minute?"

Since the man was being extremely polite, I saw no reason to say no. I looked over at Camilla, who arched her eyebrows and shrugged. "Of course," I replied, gesturing to the empty chair. "We were just about to have breakfast."

"Please," the man said, "allow me to pay for your meal. All of us owe you a debt of gratitude; it's the least I can do."

Camilla and I exchanged uneasy looks. That came uncomfortably close to taking advantage of someone else's misunderstanding, but I didn't see a way to refuse without being rude.

"Don't worry about it," he added. "You won't be putting me at a disadvantage; I am not short of money."

"Neither are we," I replied, thinking of the considerable sum that Argo had paid us the night before. "But we gratefully accept your offer."

"The honor is mine," he said, waving at the waitress. "I am Diabel. Please, order whatever you like."

We did so, introducing ourselves and thanking him as the NPC waitress sauntered off. After she left, Diabel placed his hands on the table and smiled to each of us in turn. "Aside from this small gesture of thanks, I've come to you with a proposition that I hope you'll consider. Will you hear me out?"

Here it comes. I tried not to think cynical thoughts as Diabel's question registered, and nodded towards him. "Go on."

"Thank you," Diabel said, dipping his head towards me in return. "I think it should go without saying that until someone reaches the top of Aincrad and defeats the end boss on the 100th floor, we have slim hope of seeing our homes again. I believe that we all have an obligation to strengthen ourselves and push forward as quickly as possible with that goal in mind, for the sake of all players and those we have left behind." For a moment after saying that, there was the briefest flicker of sadness in the man's eyes—but it was gone before I could be sure. "Do you agree?"

Diabel had a charismatic presence and a way with words that was inspiring; although my wife and I had planned on playing cautiously and on our own, it was impossible to deny that what he said was true, and difficult not to feel the sense of obligation of which he spoke. Both of us nodded.

He smiled broadly. "I thought as much when I heard the story of what you did. I'm assembling a team of skilled, trustworthy players with the aim of conquering the dungeon that leads to the first floor boss. We'll need to level up considerably in order to have a chance of progressing, and clearing this first dungeon will be neither quick nor easy—the work of weeks at the very least, most likely. Having a dedicated tank would be invaluable in preventing casualties while we progress."

Camilla's mouth fell slightly open as Diabel spoke, the implication clear. She turned her eyes to me. "I.."

Seeming to understand her hesitation, Diabel spoke up quickly. "Of course we'd absolutely welcome your husband as well. To hear it told, he's as skilled as you are, and we'd be foolish to turn away anyone we could trust to stand at our sides."

"Diabel," I said carefully, choosing each word deliberately. "We are not ungrateful for your offer, but I'm sure that whatever you've heard about the incident in the woods has been greatly embellished in the retelling."

"I have no doubt that is so," Diabel replied with a wry and knowing smile. "Nonetheless."

"Please understand our indecision," Camilla said as the waitress returned and set our orders before the three of us. I could tell from her slow, deliberate speech that she was putting great effort into eliminating the Kansai accent from her voice and speaking as politely as possible. "And understand that we intend no offense. We were betrayed yesterday by a party member, and it makes us hesitate to join another group right away. And our levels are not high; I doubt that we are as skilled as you have heard."

"The optimal level to clear this first dungeon is only around 10," Diabel answered, taking a sip of tea. "And levels can be gained; we've only been here a few days and any disparity in our levels is not significant. What I'm looking for is integrity and strength of spirit. As for your other concern…" He spread his hands. "There's nothing I can say to that other than that I understand your position and hope that you will decide to lend us your strength."

An itch formed at the base of my neck as Diabel spoke, a nagging suspicion about a few things he'd said. Camilla gave voice to my thoughts. "Begging your pardon," she said, her words fighting for priority with several slices of bacon, "but how would you know what level you have to be to clear the dungeon?" No such information had been in the guide or in any of the FAQs we'd read.

Diabel seemed to realize he might've said too much. He hesitated noticeably, and took a bite of his okonomiyaki in lieu of a reply.

"You were a beta-tester," I said quietly, not meaning it as a question.

He recovered quickly, but the slight widening of his eyes when I said that confirmed my suspicions.

"Thank you," I said, leaning forward in a sitting bow. "We're the ones who owe you a debt."

This, at last, seemed to shake the man's unflappable demeanor. "I… what?"

I summoned the game guide from my inventory and let it drop to the table beside me. "Argo's guide. It's supposedly compiled from information that the testers provided. We're grateful for that."

Diabel invested a great deal of attention into chewing and swallowing his food. Washing it down with the last of his tea, he said hesitantly, "There has been… some resentment, these first few days. Some of those who were in the closed beta rushed ahead and used their knowledge selfishly. Groups have been arriving at previously unknown areas to find them already cleared. I've heard grumblings of discontent and even hostility directed at anyone who admits they were a tester." He paused, and until he spoke I realized he still hadn't admitted whether or not I was right. "I would appreciate your discretion."

"We understand," Camilla assured him. "Will you give us some time to discuss your proposal and think it over?"

Diabel appeared mildly disappointed, but he bowed politely to us again as he rose to his feet and prepared to take his leave. "Of course," he said. "Here." He opened his menu and sent each of us a friend request, which we accepted after a moment's hesitation. "My group and I will be working our way through the foothills on the other side of the forest. The enemies there are strong, but if we have a full group the risk is small and we will all level up quickly. Please send me a message as soon as you've made your decision." Again there was that stirring note of conviction in his voice, and something else. Pride, perhaps. "Clearing the first floor would send a powerful message to everyone that we, as players, are not helpless in the face of the hand we've been dealt. You could help make a real difference." He bowed one last time, and left us.

As Diabel exited through the inn's front door, I turned to my wife and silently mouthed two words to her. What now?

"Now," Camilla said, attacking her bacon and fried potatoes with renewed fervor, "we finish our breakfast in peace."

Our 15 minutes of fame was getting annoying.

Everywhere we went in town, some player inevitably tried to stop us and either congratulate us, or thank us for what we hadn't really done. More than once we were invited to party with complete strangers, and had to struggle not to give unintentional offense as we turned each of them down. A few players even offered us gifts of potions or items; most of these we declined after coming up with the approach of telling them that we'd rather they use them to keep themselves alive. What was mostly a desire not to take advantage of people's misconceptions was only rarely taken as an insult, and far more often misconstrued as altruism.

Unfortunately, Camilla's distinctive appearance made it nearly impossible to try to blend in and avoid the attention. There just weren't very many leggy American redheads running around in Aincrad.

"If the truth ever comes out," I said under my breath when we got a moment's respite, "there's going to be a lot of very unhappy players in this town."

"Just roll with it," Camilla said mildly as we approached the northern edge of town. "There's really nothing we can do about it. Relax, be polite, and don't freak—" Both she and her words stopped in their tracks as Agil emerged from the item shop not far from us. I stopped about a pace ahead of her and looked back questioningly.

"I changed my mind," she said abruptly, moving to stand behind me and hunching down as if she wanted to disappear. "Hide me."

"You're two inches taller than I am," I said over my shoulder. "Whatever happened to just rolling with it?"

"Let's just roll our way towards the stables before he sees us." Camilla asked, trying to align her head behind mine with all the effectiveness of the sun trying to hide behind the moon.

"You're being absurd," I said, rolling my eyes and stepping aside. "Hey, Agil!"

"You're so dead," she said through clenched teeth that somewhat resembled a smile, waving in return as Agil waved to us and approached.

"Just relax, be polite, and don't freak out," I replied, knowing full well I was going to pay for that later.

"Ah," Agil said with grandiosity and widely spread arms as he drew close. "Our triumphant heroes make an appearance."

"It wasn't our idea," we both said at once.

"I know," he replied with a grin. "I've heard at least five different versions of the story since last night. About the only thing they had in common is that you two were attacked by a PKer and he lost. I imagine that was the kernel of truth that grew into legend overnight?"

I palmed my face. "It's not that bad, is it? Tell me the story hasn't made it to the Starting City, please."

The giant man shrugged. "I wouldn't know; I haven't been back there. But 'legend' is somewhat hyperbolic. Let's just say you're being talked about here in Horunka—sometimes by name and sometimes by description." He turned his grin to Camilla. "The latter of which usually involves a certain flame-haired gaikokujin Valkyrie who came dashing in to rescue her beloved from certain death at the hands of a merciless PKer."

"Valkyries have blonde hair," she said shortly. "Look, Agil, I'm sorry. We didn't ask for this. Rumors of an attempted PK hit the town at some point last night, and we were approached by someone who offered to pay us for the identity of the PKer."

"And you wouldn't tell them."

She looked surprised. "Well, of course. But how did you know?"

Agil shrugged. "Because if you had, everyone would know it by now." He looked meaningfully at both of us in turn. "It's a good thing, what you did."

"And it's brought us so much good fortune," I said with some annoyance.

"As is so often the case with good deeds. Are you planning on disabusing everyone of their misunderstanding?"

Camilla and I looked at each other. "We've been seriously thinking about it," I answered. "We didn't ask to be heroes. We especially don't want to be heroes for something we didn't even do. It feels like we're lying to everyone and taking advantage of them."

"Ah," Agil replied, nodding. "It's your choice, of course, and you didn't ask for my advice. But I think you should let people believe what they want to."

Camilla had a look of beleaguered resignation as she asked the question. "Why?"

"Hope," Agil began simply, gesturing for us to follow him as he walked towards the outer boundary of the town. "Ever since Kayaba's announcement of our imprisonment here, there has been a pall of despair and helplessness hanging over everyone. Bickering over trivial things. Even suicides. It's one of the reasons I left the Starting City; the mood there was oppressive. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time before PKing became a problem, and that anyone could be a potential PKer. You've shown them that they don't have to be afraid. People are smiling again. Even if it only lasts for a few days, that's worth something."

I started to open my mouth, but Camilla laid a hand on my arm before I could say anything, allowing Agil to continue. It struck me at that moment that although he was obviously completely fluent in the language, he usually had a very deliberate way of speaking in Japanese that was much like the way my wife talked when she was using polite language with strangers—as if he, as an intimidating-looking foreigner, felt the need to be overly careful of the manner in which he spoke lest he give offense.

"This tale has made these players hopeful. It's romantic and positive, and it's given them something to laugh and cheer and feel good about. It doesn't matter how much of it is true. What matters is that they believe it, and that they don't feel hopeless anymore while they believe it."

Both of us said nothing. The system message Leaving Safe Area appeared briefly in our high peripheral vision, and the three of us came to a stop.

"You can do what you want, of course," Agil said finally, folding his arms across his breastplate. "Just give it some thought before taking that away from them."

Camilla swallowed once, and nodded. "I think you're right. Thank you for your perspective."

I nodded as well, offering my hand to Agil. "Agreed. Now, why don't the three of us go hunting? We'd both like to get out of the town, and we shouldn't lose any more time that could be spent grinding and farming."

As we shook, Agil clapped his other arm on my shoulder and gave a sigh of regret. "I'd like to, my friends, but I've already promised to go hunt with another group in a dangerous area, and it's not my party to invite anyone to." A pause, and then: "And I suspect the two of you might be understandably reluctant to join another pickup group anyway."

"Truth," I replied. "That's quite all right, Agil; there'll be other days."

"That reminds me," Camilla said suddenly. "I wanted to ask you something. A stranger invited us to join some kind of 'elite' group that's planning on making a serious push to clear the first floor dungeon. We don't know him or his group, and we weren't really sure what to do—especially since we're not that powerful yet."

Agil looked momentarily surprised. "Is that so? By any chance did the person who invited you have blue hair?"

It was our turn to look surprised. "Yes," I said while Camilla tried to find her voice. "He said his name was Diabel. Do you know if we can trust him?"

The tall black man's laughter was like the deep rumble of wagon wheels on stone. "Trust him? I should hope so," he said. "It is his group I'm going off to meet."