Interrogation

The next evening, the guards woke me up by dumping water on me (for which I was honestly kind of grateful for, as it was the closest thing to a bath I could expect in here). Then they dragged me from my cell and brought me to an even colder, darker room.

The interrogation chamber.

I was super nervous about it too, as I remembered reading how interrogations were often carried out in dungeons such as this—with stories from our actual recorded history being astronomically more terrifying than anything conceived of in fiction.

However, you'd never guess who I saw sitting at the interrogation table as we entered the room. 

Seeing him there was so unexpected that it overshadowed my relief that this chamber consisted only of a table and two chairs—rather than the medieval stretcher with straps and chains that I had expected. There weren't any instruments of torture anywhere in sight.

"My apologies, dear Minori," said the ram-headed Behemoth—the same one who was part of Reems' entourage. 

That's right, it was him—the one who'd stood out from the rest, due to his lack of participation in Reems and his party's ridicule and humiliation of Leilei and me. I thought it was odd that he would be part of their party without taking part in their cruelty, but there was too much else on my mind from that interaction to give it too much thought. 

"Your apologies? For what, exactly?" I asked. Obviously there were a great number of things somebody in his position should be apologizing to someone like me about, but I needed more insight into his thinking. 

Indeed, I needed to know if he recognized the great shame of this once beautiful, easy-going faction essentially becoming a breeding ground for slavers, bullies and psychopaths.

"For the behavior of my brother Reems, for starters," he said.

"That was your brother?!" 

Well, that explained why he was tagging along with him without looking too thrilled about it. Like some kind of family obligation.

"Regrettably... Anyway, please allow me to introduce myself: my name is Ramsy Goathead, and I—what's so funny?"

I burst out laughing in his face as soon as I'd heard his name. 

"You can't be serious—your name is really Ramsy Goathead?!" I fell immediately prey to another fit of uncontrollable laughter after hearing myself repeat it. 

I'm not sure why, but corny names were just something I couldn't cope with like normal people. For heaven's sake, the man has the head of a ram, was named Ramsy, but his surname was Goathead?! I would have laughed enough at his first name, but the juxtaposition of his first name making perfect sense and his last name making zero sense (rams were sheep, not goats!) was simply too much for me to be able to take seriously, despite the severity of my situation.

"Please, take your time," he said, folding his hand atop his knee as he sat patiently with his legs crossed, waiting for me to get it together.

I certainly did take my time, too. I needed this—a nice reprieve from a night of sheer misery—a night that was by far my most miserable since coming to this world. 

It was also a somewhat strategic reaction on my part. I wanted him to know I wasn't afraid of him, nor was I desperate, despite how the circumstances may have seemed. 

So I let it all out, right into Ramsy Goathead's stupid ram face. It must have lasted a few minutes at least. There were several times when the laughter subsided long enough for me to catch my breath, only for me to utter his name again then restart the process anew.

"Okay.... okay..." I said at last, between heaving, laugh-drained breaths. "I'm ready.... you were saying?"

He gave me a cool, yet—to his credit—genuinely patient look of appraisal, as if to make sure I didn't break out into another fit before he finally spoke. "As I was saying, my name is Ramsy Goathead and I—"

"Pffffft—bwahahahahahahahahhahaha! Ramsy.... Goathead! Bwahahahahahahahaa! I can't... I can't...!"

His composed expression melted into a frown as his patience finally left him: "I see we'll have to try this some other time—guards!"

Finally, reality struck and my wits came back to me. If they brought me back to my cell, how long would it be before they let me out again? And even more pressing: what would become of Leilei? 

I couldn't bear the thought of being thrown back in my cell without any answers so I pulled myself together. "Please accept my most humble apologies, Mr. Goathead...ahachoo!" I faked a sneeze to cover the giggles that I couldn't hold in, "ahem, please continue, I'm rapt at your attention!"

The guards entered the chamber, and I must have had a pleading look on my face, because Ramsy's expression softened. He gave the signal for them to halt as soon as they were about to grab me.

He then gave me another long, appraising look until the guards left and closed the door behind them. I just noticed that I wasn't chained or shackled, so that was either a testament to their careless incompetence, or Ramsy's power. When I tried checking his stats, however, I merely got invalid target. 

Hmmm, did that mean he was an NPC? If so, why was he in a party with other players, one of whom he called his brother? Who, unlike Ramsy, had a stat chart that appeared before my eyes when I focused on him. 

Whatever the case may be, I needed to pay close attention to everything he said, to get as much information out of him as possible, which meant I could no longer allow myself to be distracted by his utterly ridiculous name.

"Ahachoo!" 

Even if I had to fake another sneeze at the mere thought of it.