Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Function of the Telescope (Part Two)

Nevertheless, although the presence of these street vendors greatly contributed to the city’s commercial prosperity, their negative impact was just as obvious. For instance, right now, they were clustered throughout the city like rampant weeds, piling up haphazardly and blocking what should have been wide and unobstructed roads, leaving people with no choice but to squeeze and shuffle forward at a snail’s pace.

Ahead to my left, an impatient half-orc, frustrated by the slow progress, bellowed at his companion, “If I usually caught these guys, I’d confiscate all their goods, charge each of them five hundred coins for obstructing the road, and another two hundred for management fees. Let’s see if they’d dare to set up shop on the street again.”

His companion looked at him in surprise and asked, “What do you do?”

“City patrol!” he replied.

“Oh…” The surrounding crowd suddenly understood, casting him looks full of ambiguous meaning.

Trying to find a single person in this congested tide of people was no easy feat, but fortunately my binoculars helped me lock onto the location of Song of Strings and Elegance from afar. The elf ranger, with his poor eyesight, was struggling even more than others on this jammed road. He drifted along blindly with the flow, his already slight frame seeming even more frail amid the pushing crowd, to the extent that it almost looked as if he’d been compressed and stretched taller by the pressure.

“Hey, Song of Strings and Elegance!” After much effort squeezing through the masses, I managed to get close and waved to him in greeting.

“You…”

“I’m Jeff—Jeffrey Kid,” I said, noting the blank, unfocused look in his eyes. I didn’t expect him to recognize me at all. “Just stand there and don’t move. I’ll get you out of here!”

With that, I forced my way to his side, grabbed his arm, and started pulling him toward the city gates. At last, we managed to forge a bloody path through the throng, burst out of the gate, and emerged into the open.

“Whew…” I exhaled deeply, straightening my helmet and armor, both knocked askew by the crowd. “I never thought there’d be so many people here now.”

“Yeah…” Song of Strings and Elegance nodded. “It’s the start of the free open beta test!”

Free public toilets? I vaguely remembered a small building in town called the public restroom, where you could pick up a pitifully rewarded cleaning and rat-catching quest, but I was fairly sure it had never charged any fees…

“Hmm… Yes, that’s it…” I mumbled noncommittally, then asked, “So, where are you headed?”

“I want to visit the blacksmith’s to repair my equipment.”

“The blacksmith?” I almost fainted. “Isn’t it near the east gate?”

“Yeah? Where are we now?”

“We’re at the west gate—and we just squeezed out of the city…” Glancing at the surging crowds at the gate, I couldn’t help but suck in a breath, hesitantly asking, “…So, do you want to go back the same way…”

In the end, we decided not to force our way back through the west gate. Instead, we skirted the city walls of Campnavia in a wide arc all the way to the east gate. Though it was almost twice the distance, I figured if we’d tried returning through the east gate, we’d still be stuck at the entrance by now.

Once Song of Strings and Elegance had his equipment repaired, I led him out of the city to a secluded spot in the woods, then handed him the binoculars I’d crafted.

“Try looking through this,” I said.

“What is it?” he asked, examining the device curiously.

“It’s a binocular—I made it myself…” I explained the origin and function of the device in detail, then shared my bold speculation. “If you wear it, maybe it’ll help your eyesight.”

“Will that really work?” Song of Strings and Elegance looked doubtful, hesitating.

“There’s only one way to find out—try it!” The novelty of the idea filled me with an odd excitement. I was so eager, I could barely keep myself from putting the binoculars around his neck myself.

Song of Strings and Elegance took the binoculars, eyed them in confusion, then slowly put them on. He gazed at a distant clump of bushes, then took them off to look again, repeating the process several times, making careful comparisons.

“Well? Any difference?” I asked eagerly.

He took off the binoculars and pointed at a wild rabbit crawling through the underbrush. “Without them, all I can see is a blurry black speck.”

Then he put the binoculars on again, pointed at the rabbit, and said, “With these on, it definitely feels different…”

“Well? Well? Can you really see it clearly?” I pressed.

He shook his head, then held up his right hand, forming a ring with his thumb and forefinger, and opened them about a third of the way.

“With them on, I can see a blurry big black speck!”

He gave a self-deprecating, bitter smile.

“Oh, it didn’t work?” Though this only really affected Song of Strings and Elegance, I was even more disappointed than he was to see my hopes dashed. I took the binoculars back in low spirits and tossed them into my pack.

Sensing my mood, he offered heartfelt consolation. “Jeff, you went to so much trouble to make this, and you thought of me first—I really appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t made specifically for you—I just happened to see you and had the idea, that’s all, no need to thank me…” I waved my hands dismissively. “…And don’t bow to a tree in gratitude, I’m standing right behind you.”

Suddenly, Song of Strings and Elegance’s eyes lit up, as if he’d just remembered something. “By the way, Jeff, did you say you ground all those lenses yourself?”

“I did—didn’t I tell you already? Why?”

A mysterious smile suddenly appeared on the elf ranger’s face. “If that’s the case, Jeff, I might have a good idea…”

(I’d planned to be home by eight, but a friend caught me at my door and dragged me out…)