Chapter 1: Target Launched! We Have Lift Off!
Chapter Text
Jaime’s interface plug itched as it transmitted the final trajectory calculations to a mining ship that streaked upwards out of Earth’s atmosphere. One of the hundreds he had helped launch today, its destination was some far-off asteroid in the belt. Inside the digital space, he tracked the vessel as it climbed, data streamed through the neural interface and into his cortex: weather conditions were stable, and the Earth cluttered debris field, the reason they needed people sending trajectory coordinates, was spread thin enough that his calculated trajectory should hold.
All that was left to do was wait for the…
“Beep.”
“Launch Successful. MX-2314 has exited Earth’s orbit. Congratulations, Operator Jaime Nieto.” The machine paused, calculating, “You have reached your daily quota and may now log off.”
Well, that. The launch computer’s success flag. From here, the onboard A.I. would handle the final calculations, guiding the cargo of mining droids and rovers to the asteroid with only the occasional check-ins with either lunar or colonial traffic systems for any updated pathways or hazards. Either way, it was no longer his problem, not until the ship returned, whenever that might be. Some of the return launches he’d dealt with today had left Earth before the war, forty years ago.
His bodily autonomy came back to him, Jaime reached up and traced his hand along the access cable. This part never got easier. He inhaled sharply, then gripped the metal connector embedded in the port at the base behind his ear and into his skull. With a sharp exhale, he unplugged it. For a split second, he could feel the tiny electrical discharges as the neural interface disengaged. Returning him fully back to reality and out of the digital space.
He shook his head and opened his eyes, blinking up at the glass screen door that enclosed his work pod. A shiver coursed through him as the pod’s chilled air hit his senses. He knew it was there to regulate his body temperature while his brain handled the intense load of the launches, but it always felt like the real purpose was to shock him back to reality.
“Shit.” he whispered through chattering teeth.
The discomfort lingered as the pod expelled the cold air and allowed the ambient temperature to bleed in. It was uncomfortable, and only made worse by the rising specter of claustrophobia.
“Ughhhh.” His body jittered, attempting to regain some comfort or at least stop himself from panicking.
With a hiss and a click, the atmospheric cycle completed and the pod’s glass door unlocked. With haste his arm shot upward to grab the side grips, and he hauled himself upwards, sitting himself straight and regaining both composure and awareness.
Remaining upright, he glanced around the cylindrical room. Most of the other afternoon operators were wrapping up their shifts too, either climbing out of their own pods or chatting in low tones near the exit. A few noticed him and offered nods or waves. Jaime returned the gestures. No point in being rude. People in his line of work didn’t get much social interaction during the day. And might as well take in what little there was.
Summoning energy back into his limbs, Jaime willed himself upwards and climbed out of the pod. His legs buckled briefly as body remembered how much he weighed, and how exactly to walk. He steadied himself, then glanced up at the massive wall-mounted clock overlooking the station floor. He had been under for six hours. Two hours past the legal work limit, but that was the nature of quota-based work. Time didn’t matter; only launches did.
Not that it was his longest shift. He’d once been under for eight hours, the old legal limit, back before the war changed everything.
“God, what a boring day,” he muttered, quietly enough for no one to hear. No misfires. No miscalculations. No rogue clouds of debris. Not even a weather hold to log. Just a smooth day of threading needles through space, which was not a problem. But today felt like filing taxes, something a bot could do. At least, he had something to talk about, and his skills were being put to use.
He lingered for a moment, debating whether to feign interest in small talk with one of his coworkers, most of whom only spoke to invite someone to drink with them; something he understood, even sympathized with on some level. But not today. Today was different. Today, he had other things on his mind. He offered a few half-hearted goodbyes as he stepped into the hallway.
His stomach growled audibly, echoing in the narrow corridor. He’d skipped lunch, not intentionally, but he didn’t think today would have been such a long day. Dodging a fresh wave of operators arriving for the next shift, he began mentally calculating how much he could afford to spend on food. With a sigh, he summoned his banking overlay into view; a cold blue interface hovering in the corner of his vision, courtesy of his neural implant. As a benefit of working in Orbital Traffic Control, he had gotten his for free. Instead of the tens of thousands or so others spend to get the same tech.
“Okay,” he whispered, stepping over a cleaner droid in the corridor. “Next payday… Friday of next week. That’s… 1,870 credits, post-tax.”
He rounded a corner, past the vending machines blinking ‘OUT OF ORDER’. There goes the cheap option. His fingers tapped against themselves as he mentally calculated. “Minus rent. Minus groceries. And yeah tuition,” he added bitterly. The cost of his advanced orbital dynamics course still clung on his budget. “Leaves me with… what? 130 credits?”
He sighed. “Guess that’s noodles and canned protein again.”
He pushed open the doors to the locker room, and brushed past the other operators and staff changing into or out of their work attire, and made his way to his locker. Pressing his finger onto the biometric scanner, it clicked open and he began to change out of his port suit and into his regular attire, a deep ocean blue fleece jacket that hung over his dark black t-shirt and baggy jeans. He slipped out of the sandals provided to him and slipped on his socks and dark blue tennis shoes. He did a quick stretch and headed for the door.
Exiting the locker room, Jaime shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, the faint smell of sterilizing agents and recycled air that kept the locker room smelling fresh, lingered behind him. The hall was mostly empty, just the distant echo of someone swearing at a vending machine and the hum of the facility powering down for the night shift.
He made a beeline for the elevator, only having to wait a few minutes before the door opened. Stepping in he pressed the lobby button, and waited only a moment to see if anyone would be joining him. When the doors finally closed he let out an exhale he didn’t realize he had been holding. He hated this. And he didn’t even know what it was that he hated. It wasn’t the job, that was at least somewhat fun and easy, just math problems. The money was fine. He looked out the elevator. Maybe that was just life, having a bit of dissatisfaction that one couldn’t quite place. His stomach growled once more, reminding him that he was really hungry.
With a quick shake of the head, he fought off the hunger pangs for the time being. Jaime activated his implant with a thought, and scrolled. His contact list scrolled past his vision in clean, minimal fonts, glowing faintly against the real world. He hovered over Huck’s name and tapped in with a mental nudge.
The line clicked nearly instantly.
“Jaime!” Huck’s southern accent came off strong.
“Huck,” Jaime responded curtly, with a smile plastered on his face.
“Dude, are you just now getting off of work? I’ve been waiting for you to call for hours,” Huck said.
The elevator doors opened into the lobby, cool air brushing against his face as he stepped out, moving toward security. “You’ve been waiting hours? Didn’t you go to work today?”
The split second of silence answered that question.
“No. Took the day off so that I could finish up a quest with Rose and Zane.” Huck’s voice held a tinge of something Jaime couldn’t place.
“You keep that up and they are going to fire you.”
“Eh they wouldn’t dare. I am important over there. Now let me tell you the quest was amazing. We were tasked with hunting down this pack of like super wolves, I think Zane called them Dire wolves. They had been terrorizing this town called Greenwich and we were sent to track them down and eliminate them. Rose was like a hunter, I never would have expected from her. She traced their tracks all the way through the forest and back to their den, this little cave. Then you wouldn’t guess what happened next.”
“Let me guess, you stepped in like a knight and shining armor and took them alone.” Jaime said, finally through security and out the door. His eyes searched his surroundings to make sure it was safe before making his way to the bus stop.
Huck blew out some air. “I wish. I did take down one or two of them. But nah. Zane told Rose to challenge the pack leader into combat. It was an amazing man, I wish I could have sent you the clip of them fighting but it was intense. She beat that thing to an inch of its life.”
Jaime stepped into his bus, a sleek silver bullet on wheels, and made his way to the back. “But I thought your guys’ task was to eliminate them?” His voice sounded confused.
He could almost hear Huck nod, before continuing, “See, that’s what I asked. Zane said that with the pack leader defeated, we effectively told them that this territory was ours. We took some of the wolves we did slay back and got our award. But man, that mission took days.”
“All in all it sounds like your idea of vacation.” Jaime said, grinning. He buckled slightly as the bus took off towards its next stop.
“You know it. Though I nearly blew the money I earned playing poker at the Guild House. I don’t know who taught these guys how to play but they are good. But enough about me. What’s your plans for tonight? Wanna go out and get some drinks?” Huck pressed.
“Nah, don’t have the budget for that, thinking of getting some noodles and playing this new game that I got.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
Jaime, with a hint of sass, responded, “Well you’ve been talking about it so much that I decided to get Mythreal.”
“No shway, you got approved?” Huck responded in shock.
“Yeah man, it took forever for them to approve my application but Mythreal is already downloaded on my terminal at home. You’re looking at an official Mythreal Beta tester.”
Huck hooted and hollered on the other side of the line, “Man this is going to be so amazing, I gotta tell Rose and Zane. We gotta play it tonight, it’s your first day so you have to go full in.”
“Yeah I guess so.” Jaime’s voice spoke with a buzz, half-listening now. Huck had begun his rant on all the features of the game. Something he had heard at least a hundred times. Instead while the rush of Huck’s voice buzzed in one ear, his thoughts wandered.
It had taken him months to get approval, and even then the amount of neural safety trials, waivers, and psych screenings made it difficult to believe that anyone got approved, Huck especially. Which meant that while he was waiting for approval, he had time to research this supposed game.
Unlike other V.R games, Mythreal was made entirely by an Artificial Intelligence, which while not unheard of, it was unusual that this particular AI made this. It was a political think-tank AI, whose purpose was to help researchers find and create efficiency policies for the government. Apparently, it had been doing that for a few months before stopping. They had asked it to build policies that would ensure an enduring government, which seemingly broke it. They were going to scrap it before realizing it was in fact working on the solution. It finally came back online a year later with two responses: One: Despite the thousands of years of data fed to it, it still required more before it came up with a lasting response. Two: Mythreal, a game software already fully formed and ready to play.
Mythreal was apparently its solution to gathering more data to solve the question, but one that no one expected it to create. The initial testers were the researchers, who deemed it safe but still the concept of being a guinea pig for this AI’s experiment wasn’t an easy sell but the player count continued to rise. Something allured people to it.
Jaime had almost pulled out of the interview process. Twice. But then Huck got in during Phase Three of the Alpha build and everything changed. Every day since, Huck had been a walking, yelling advertisement.
“Jaime. Jaime! Are you listening?”
He blinked back into the conversation as he stepped off the bus, the late night summer air clung to his still chilled body. The lighting overhead flickered as he walked the last few blocks towards his apartment.
“Yeah, sorry. Long day. You were saying?”
“Twip,” Huck muttered. Then his voice took on a mocking stern tone, “I was saying that you are not allowed to sleep tonight. You’re logging in. I am gonna go ahead and let Zane and Rose know that you are coming and we will meet you back in the capital. We’re still out of town but we should be back in time to meet you. I’ll be in the guild house.”
Jaime arrived at his apartment, one of the many mega complexes that dotted across the city. Lucky for him or unlucky depending on the day. He lived on the 5th floor and so didn’t need to deal with the overcrowded mess that was the elevator. Treading up the apartment staircase he passed by the nearby vending machine and quickly paid the small fee for noodles and a protein packet.
Grabbing what he needed he responded to Huck, “I got you. Look I am going to eat real quick, and I’ll meet you in game okay.”
“Perfect! Alright again meet me in the capital, Croton, I’ll be at the guild house. Oh also, seek out the nearest town first and they’ll help you.”
“What? They’ll give me my starter loot?” Jaime responded, placing the cup noodles into the microwave.
Huck sighed, “No, man, you weren’t listening.”
“I’m sorry.” Jaime apologized.
Huck continued, “There’s a program that’s in place to help new players. Let them know you are a new player and they’ll help you get to the capital. It is dangerous to journey alone so don’t try it. Because if you die, that’s it. There is no respawning.”
“Oh it’s one of those games, gotcha. I’ll seek out the nearest town.” The microwave beeped, as Jaime shook the packet of ground protein. “Alright, for real now, I got to go.”
“Alright. Bye, Jaime.”
“Bye, Huck.”
Jaime hung up and proceeded to take out his cup noodles from the microwave. Nearly burning his hands in the process. He ripped the packet of protein and poured the brown chunks into the soup, mixing them into incorporated. He sat down, turned on the TV and ate while taking in the little amount of news he could bother. It was almost never positive, the only positive of the day was the new technology or cybernetics being pushed out by the corporations. Everything else was drama or cyber psychos.
The noodles didn’t stand a chance against his hunger as he quickly swallowed them down. Jaime discarded the remains of the cup and packet and tucked away everything else into the kitchen dishwasher. He moved through the rest of his nightly routine on autopilot: lights dimmed, doors locked, a few background updates syncing in the corner of his vision. The apartment was quiet in that late-night way, every sound amplified by how lonely everything was. The creak of the floor under his heel, the faint buzz of the AC unit, the dry click of his toothbrush against the sink.
Jaime proceeded with his night routine. He stripped off his clothes and tossed them into his laundry hamper, then quickly went in for a shower, rinsing away a day’s worth of labor. Silently, he got dressed for bed and then reached for the small silver capsule on his nightstand. He held it in his palm for a moment, turning it between his fingers. The neural sleep aid wasn’t strictly required for VR immersion, but he preferred not to risk halfway consciousness during boot-up. Too many horror stories about perception drag and mind crashing.
He popped the capsule, then plugged the slim black cable into the port behind his left ear, the familiar click echoing in his skull. The other end snaked into his beat-up laptop, already glowing faintly with the startup sequence. The Mythreal icon pulsed like a heartbeat.
Jaime lay back and exhaled.
“It’s just a game, " he reminded himself.
But the anxiety crept in anyway. First in his chest, then in his hands. He’d waited so long for this. What if he hated it? What if the AI did something crazy with this? What if Huck had overhyped it to oblivion?
Just a game.
He began to count down. “Ten… nine…”
Eight…
Seven…
Sleep caught him before the next number.
Then, he opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the sky. Not the hazy, satellite-dotted sky of the city, but a vast, impossibly blue expanse, painted with slow-moving clouds that looked like ink on water. The sun was warm, but not too warm, and a breeze danced across his face, carrying the smell of grass, sun-warmed stone, and distant pine.
He was lying flat on his back in a field of green, blades of grass tall enough to sway in the wind, soft enough not to scratch his skin. Turning his head he stared out to the horizon which rippled with gentle hills, dotted with trees that looked real and not in the typical game graphics that simulated reality but never were quite right. This looked impossibly real. It was both surreal and peaceful.
Chapter 2: Hello World
Summary:
Well ain't this something special. A fully created world never before seen in VR. Might as well take it for all it's worth.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jaime blinked slowly. He sat up and continued to survey the land before him.
There were no menus. No HUD. No tutorial pop-up. Just him and this ever expansive land. He looked downwards at himself and noticed the change of attire, his new outfit was made up of a simple beige tunic, dark brown linen pants, and black poulaine boots.
Standing up on his feet, he stretched out his digital body. Before bouncing up and down. He felt lighter, much lighter as if gravity on this world was lessened. It was exhilarating he felt like he could run a marathon. He ceased his mini hops and studied his hands. It was as he first thought, everything about this was so very realistic, with his brown digital hands sharing the same mole position as his real body. This was far beyond any other game he had played, which in comparison took a while for you to accept the limitations of graphics or the uncanny valley of it all. He understood now while Huck spent his first week on the game just talking about what mundane task he was able to do.
His eyes broke from his hands and towards the assortment of trees in the near distance that denoted the beginning of a forest. With a smile on his face he took off. Excitement swelling at the ease of running, his body felt amazing. The years of wear and tear on his body, that he had once been ignorant of before being able to compare to this, was gone and it was amazing. He skipped, hopped and bounced through the fields before breaking the threshold into the forest. The trees rushed past him, as he bounced off of one and another, swung off branches and continued his stride with sheer glee.
He grabbed onto a branch and swung forward with exhilaration as he launched himself out of the forest and back out into the grassy plains. He landed softly on the grass, rolling a few feet before sitting up laughing. He finally understood what all those joggers were talking about, the freeing and addictive feeling of a runner’s high. He was free to go and do anything with just his two feet!
“Slammin.” He spoke to himself in-between giggles. His eyes then darted across the field towards his next challenge. And there it was, a large hill in the distance. His chuckles died down as he once again rose to his feet. Taking a mark he counted down from five.
“Five.”
“Four.” He planted his feet.
“Three.”
“Two.” A smirk crossed his face.
“One.”
He took off at full speed. With each step he accelerated faster and faster, moving at speeds he never thought possible. The lessened gravity made him feel like an olympic sprinter. Jaime met the hill with full force, ignoring the limitations brought by the incline as he pushed himself more and more. His breath became more audible, but he didn’t care as he was having fun. One step, then another, and finally with a big push he made it. The summit of this hill, one of several in the area as he could now tell with the benefit of a higher perspective.
Jaime sat down at the summit, checking the position of the sun. It was about noon, which explained the rising heat he was beginning to feel. But man, he couldn’t care less about it. No level of discomfort could take away from this moment. This was amazing, and enough for him to rant to Huck about.
“Shit. Huck, right! I was supposed to be looking for a town.” He hopped up quickly and surveyed the area around him looking for any sign of civilization. “There!” his hands instinctively pointed out to what looked like the outline of a small town or village in the distance. He took a deep breath and began his trek over there. There was a dirt pathway that upon closer inspection turned out to be a road; littered occasionally with gravel to help with moving carts.
Following the path, he arrived within an hour of first spotting the town, Jaime crossed the threshold from the road into the town itself. The walls of the settlement were more symbolic than defensive: short wooden palisades bound together with rope and moss, suggesting a boundary more than a barricade. As he approached the open gate, he tried to walk with some form of confidence, but it came off awkward, like someone who knew they were trespassing.
A few figures standing near the entrance turned to watch him. The men were broad-shouldered, with the sun-darkened skin and heavy arms of people used to hauling tools and lifting crates. Not soldiers, Jaime could tell that much. Their builds were sturdy in a way that came from work, not war. Farm muscle. One had hay clinging to the sleeve of his shirt, another a small scar just beneath his eye, like he’d taken a bad fall or a thrown rock, not a blade.
One of them stepped forward, eyeing Jaime from dirty boots to sweaty brow. “You lost or something, stranger?”
The others flanked him loosely, casual but coordinated. Their voices were friendly enough, but carried that careful edge, like they were waiting for a lie.
Jaime raised his hands slightly, palms out. “No, I,I mean, kind of. I’m a new player. My friend said to head to the first town for help.”
There was a beat of silence, and then everything changed.
“Oh, shoot! He’s one of them,” one of the men said, grinning suddenly.
“Someone go get the chief,” said another, who turned sideways looking towards the gathering crowd of labourors. “Tell him we got one.”
“C’mon, traveler,” said the first man, clapping a firm hand on Jaime’s shoulder and guiding him forward. “Let’s get you something to drink. Bet you’re parched, after all that trekking.”
Jaime allowed himself to be led, still getting used to the hyperreal sensations of the world, the warm hand against his back, the smell of labor that surrounded the excited people, his own faint sweat on his back, the smell of dirt and cooking smoke drifting from somewhere nearby. This was a real town and these people… were they NPCs? Or other players?
The town opened up around him as they led him deeper inside: low wooden houses, clustered gardens, chickens clucking in the distance. It had the vibe of a fantasy village through and through. Not long after, more people began to gather. One by one at first, then in clusters, curious faces of all ages, peeking around corners, setting down baskets, trailing after him with wide eyes. They asked questions with wide grins and eager voices.
“Is it true your cities are made of iron?”
“Have y’all really gone to space?”
“Do your people really live in towers that shoot up all the way to the sky?”
He tried to answer, doing his best not to sound overwhelmed. But with each answer another five questions were shot at him. All of them coming out at the same time on top of one another. He was just lucky they got stuck on the mechanics of a car that they stopped interrupting one another to just listen about how AC worked.
He noticed, as he listened, that the townsfolk’s accent sat somewhere on the edge of familiarity, vaguely southern, but with softened vowels and unusual inflections. If he didn’t think too hard, he could almost place it. But when he tried to pin it down, it slipped out of reach. It was strange, he wondered how Huck would sound next to them.
“All right, I think the boy has answered enough of your questions. Now let him be.” A voice spoke from the back of the small crowd.
That warm, curious energy lingering in the air evaporated the moment the crowd parted. Yet their eyes still held that hunger of knowledge, it wasn’t gone, just contained for the time being.
The man who stepped through moved with quiet certainty. He looked to be in his sixties, his skin weathered by sun and time, his short gray beard trimmed close to the chin. He wore a leather vest over a faded shirt and carried no visible weapons, only a wrinkled piece of parchment in one hand. The paper was soft around the edges, as if it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times.
“I’m Rahl,” the man said, voice low and steady, “Chief of Vectis.”
Jaime gave a shallow nod. “Jaime. I’m, uh, a player?”
Rahl held up the paper and waved it lightly in the air. “So you are indeed are claiming to be a player. Said you came here for help?”
“Yeah,” Jaime said carefully, meeting the older man’s gaze. “That’s… that’s right.”
There was a pause. The crowd around them had gone quiet, watchful now, not unfriendly, but no longer wide-eyed. Jaime’s eyes flicked toward the men who had greeted him at the gate. Their hands were full with items that only now he realized could be a problem. One held a shovel, another a hoe with fresh dirt still clinging to the blade. Not weapons, exactly but heavy, solid, and in the right hands, dangerous.
“You’re not the first to say that,” Rahl said, lowering the paper. “Claiming to be a ‘player.’ Most come through talking big. Say they’re here from another world. Want food, shelter, sometimes more. Always a story. Always a reason.”
He unfolded the parchment with practiced precision. “All of them turned out to be thieves. Liars. One even tried to burn down our storehouse when we refused to give him coin.”
Jaime swallowed.
“They all failed the test,” Rahl continued. “And we dealt with them.” The people around him nodded or gave grunts of affirmation to his words.
So that was what this was. Jaime realized this was intimidation. Looking at them, they looked rough, nothing like the people of his world. Their children showed signs of malnutrition, not from a lack of food but lack of diversity of food. The adults had decaying teeth and looked older than their years. They needed their supplies, it was a risk to deal with him. These were not just NPC quest-givers but real people who would strike him dead if he turned out to be a fraud.
Rahl’s eyes narrowed. “So I’ll ask you once, before things go bad. You hiding something, son? Speak now, and we’ll forget this whole thing ever happened. You’ll walk away with nothing, but a warning and your life.”
Jaime looked at the crowd behind Rahl, it was almost tempting to take the offer, and just go off and find another town. But that would just be silly, he had done nothing wrong and he really did need that help.
He shook his head, “No need sir. I am a player, and ready for whatever test you have for me.”
Rahl stepped closer and extended the wrinkled paper, his expression unreadable.
“Go on. Read it yourself.”
Jaime took it carefully, the texture was softer than he expected, worn at the corners, creased in four sharp lines. The front was covered in looping symbols that made no sense to him. They looked vaguely runic, like a random eastern european language, which meant nothing since he didn’t know any. He pondered if a linguist who did would be able to translate it, or was it purely a game-specific language. He wasn’t sure. But at the bottom, something familiar caught his eye.
English.
Printed cleanly in a small block of text, the message read:
“Congratulations on reaching your first town. Due to you living in the Americas you spawned into the Croton Republic, home and base of the Adventures Guild. Turn this page over and read the rest of the message.”
Jaime glanced up.
The villagers were still watching, unmoving. Some with arms crossed, others with wary eyes. One of the men tapped his shovel against the ground rhythmically, not impatiently, but deliberately, like reminding him that time was ticking.
The back was filled with smaller English text, dense but legible. He skimmed quickly, taking in the broad strokes:
“Long ago, the world was ruled by the Five Great Kingdoms, each guarding one aspect of the world’s balance. But ambition rotted their unity. A war followed, devastating the land and weakening the Veil that protected their realm. Then came the plague.
People changed. Creatures returned: ancient monsters that had once been exiled to the shadow continent were spotted more and more. Some who breathed the plague became beasts themselves.
It was chaos, until players arrived.
That was a decade ago. Players reforged the fallen Kingdoms’ banners. They founded the Adventurers Guild and began pushing the darkness back. But the threat remains and spreads.
You are one of the new generation of players.
To continue your journey, you must be recognized. Travel to the capital and join the Guild.
But first: prove yourself to the town.
Remove your shirt. Show them your back.”
He blinked. “What?” he muttered.
Jaime read the last line twice, then looked back up at the crowd. They were still watching. Rahl had stepped back now, arms crossed over his chest.
“Something amusing?” the chief asked, eyebrow raised.
Jaime shook his head slowly. “No. Just… surprised.” he handed the sheet to the chief and eyes the crowd, awaiting his next move.
He hesitated for only a moment, then with a slight blush pulled his shirt over his head. Revealing to the crowd muscles that did not exist in the real world, he then turned his back to them and he heard the sound of audible gasp. The crowd saw before them the lavender colored runic circle etched flawlessly across his back. Not a tattoo but as if the rune was part of him.
Smiley madly, Rahl walks up to him, “You may put on your shirt, you have passed. I’ve only heard rumors but you have it, the runic sign that denotes all Players.”
Jaime followed his command and put back on his shirt before turning and facing the crowd. Rahl raised his arms, “We have in our midst a player, which calls for a celebration! Finish up your daily work and let’s get this party going!”
The crowd cheered and scurried off to their duties. Jaime furrowed his brow as the villagers began to stir around them, murmurs turning into movement. “Wait, why a celebration?” he asked, confused. “I haven’t done anything yet, except answer a few questions.”
Rahl let out a warm, weathered chuckle, the first hint of true joy Jaime had seen on the man’s face. “You being here is something. Your arrival’s a blessing.”
Jaime’s confusion deepened. “How do you mean?”
The chief clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm from years of hard labor, and guided him through the town. “Every time one of your kind shows up and is escorted to the capital. Once confirmed, we get three months’ worth of food stores. Preserved meat. Flour. Medicine. Tools. Things we can’t make on our own.”
Jaime blinked. “So I’m… worth a shipment?”
“To them? Maybe. To us?” Rahl gave a small shake of his head. “You might’ve just bought us a winter.” He stopped them before a house.
Before Jaime could respond, the chief looked past him and called out, “Jehanne! Come meet our guest!”
A moment later, a woman appeared from the home. She was slender but strong-looking, her silver hair tied into a neat braid that fell across one shoulder. Her age showed in her joints, but her pace was brisk. She smiled softly at Jaime as she approached, the lines on her face deepening.
“This is my wife,” Rahl said. “She’ll get you situated while we prepare. You’ll be staying with us until I find you transport to the capital. But for now, get situated while we set up for the ceremony, much needs to be done.”
Jehanne nodded and gestured for Jaime to follow her. “Come along, dear. You’ll want to wash up before the feast.”
The chief’s house stood on a slight rise at the edge of town, only marginally taller than the others but more solidly built, its wooden frame reinforced with stone along the base. A chimney puffed gentle smoke, and the front door creaked as she opened it with practiced ease.
Inside, it was warm and cozy, with thick woven rugs and hand-carved furniture worn smooth by time. Herbs hung from the ceiling beams, their faint fragrance mixing with the scent of old wood and something baking, bread, maybe. She invited him to sit, and the two shared a quaint lunch together.
Once again he took the role of answering all the questions she had about his world. However, this time he was able to ask his own questions about this world, and while he got some answers not much was enlightening. She was never into politics and effectively illiterate, and so knew little of the current state of the world or anything outside this little town of theirs. However, what she did know about the local gossip and such was nice.
After lunch Jehanne took him around a short tour of the house, which was really short given the size of the home. Ending once she led him down a short hallway to a small room with a bed, a window, and a wooden trunk at the foot of it.
“You’ll be staying here,” she said softly. “It used to be our son’s room.”
She knelt beside the trunk and opened it, pulling out a folded tunic and set of trousers. They were clean and neatly kept, but clearly worn, patched in places with great care.
“They should fit well enough,” she added, offering them to him. “He was about your size.”
Jaime took the clothes, but his gaze lingered on her hands, on the way her smile dimmed just slightly at the corners. He could tell that for some reason she was uncomfortable being in this room.
“Your son…?” he asked gently.
Jehanne sat on the edge of the bed, eyes focused on the wall across from her. “Marcus fought in the local militia during the Great Kingdom War. Just a young man then, too brave for his own good. Got injured in his leg and they sent him home.” She paused there unsure whether to finish the story.
Jaime softly grabbed the clothes from her, and looked her in the eye. He could tell she wanted to finish it. To let out something she had been holding onto, and so with a nod he urged her to continue.
She patted the old trunk and swallowed. She smiled faintly, lost in the memory. “That month he was back… it was the best of our lives. We talked about everything. The war felt like it was a world away.”
Her voice thinned. “Then Marcus got sick. Just a cough at first. We didn’t think much of it. But when the plague comes for someone… there’s no mistaking it.”
Jaime sat down on the stool by the bed, quietly holding the folded clothes in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
Jehanne nodded, still placing her hands on the trunk, tracing the wooden ornaments that decorated the top. “I heard what happened to the others. What they became. In a way… we were lucky. He died in that bed, still himself. We got to say goodbye.”
Jaime wanted to ask what she meant, he read the sheet but to get a more personable answer would be better but he saw the distant look in her eyes and let the silence speak for him. She had let go of a burden that she felt in this room, and that was enough.
The light had shifted in the room by the time Jehanne blinked and looked back at him.
“Goodness,” she said, brushing off her skirt and taking a peek out the window. “We’ve been talking for hours, it’s nearly evening. They’ll be starting the celebration soon, and you’ll need to look presentable.”
She smiled again, warmer now. “Get dressed, and I’ll fetch you when it’s time.”
Jaime nodded, rising to his feet as she left the room. He glanced at the folded clothes in his hands, and then around the small space. It wasn’t much but it felt like it mattered. Someone had lived here. Let’s treat it with respect.
He changed quietly, the air still holding Jehanne’s quiet grief.
As Jaime stepped outside, the sky was bleeding orange and violet. Night was brushing in fast, but the celebration was already in full swing.
Torches lined the small central square, their flames crackling in the gentle wind. Tables had been pulled out into the open, mismatched chairs surrounding them. Platters of steaming food covered every surface, roasted vegetables, a few glazed meat, fresh bread still warm from ovens, and plenty of beer.
The whole thing reminded him of Thanksgiving, if Thanksgiving had been held outdoors, with three times the people, and none of the political tension. There was laughter, music from stringed instruments he didn’t recognize, and a sense of ease. People were together, and happy to be.
Then someone noticed him.
“There he is!”
The shout sent a ripple through the crowd, and before Jaime could retreat or brace himself, a mob of villagers surged around him. Dozens of hands patted his shoulders or shook his hand. A tankard was thrust into his grip, foaming at the top, and someone clapped him on the back hard enough to jostle his drink.
“Sit him down! Let him talk!”
A chair was found and Jaime was guided into it like royalty being ushered to a throne. He gave a sheepish smile as everyone circled around him, eyes wide and expectant. He knew where this was leading. Questions galore. It reminded him of being a new kid in class, where everyone wanted to know what your last school was like.
The questions flowed like beer, and his cup never emptied as long as he answered. He chuckled, taking a cautious swing of the drink, sweet and strong. Fruit not barley. Though it seemed there was plenty of barley too out there, including his last cup.
“Alright! One at a time and try not to talk over everyone,” he commanded, his confidence peeking and his words beginning to slur. The beer was a vastly lower alcohol percent than he was used to, but he had drunk enough to begin to feel the heat.
He started simple. Talked about his job, how he worked with others to launch ships into space, guiding their flight paths from Earth’s surface. The villagers murmured in awe, some eyes going wide at the mention of ships “flying without sails or wind.”
He explained how Earth had different countries, over a hundred of them, and how each had their own laws and leaders. That got a few raised eyebrows and muttered “No wonder they fight so much.”
Then came the inevitable question: “And do you have a lover waiting for you back home?”
The crowd roared with laughter at the blush that spread across his face.
“N-no,” he admitted. “Haven’t really had the time.”
That answer was met with a few appraising glances from a cluster of young women standing just at the edge of the crowd, giggling behind tankards.
He moved on quickly, shifting to their differences in technology, how they had machines that could talk to you, moving pictures, and ways to travel across entire continents in hours. He described the stars too, and how in his world, they had mapped them, studied them. But when he looked up at their sky, something was off.
“They’re wrong,” he’d said at first, then quickly corrected himself, looking back up at the strange constellations overhead. “Not wrong, just… different. Which is fascinating.”
But after a while, Jaime turned the questions back around. “Okay, your turn. What’s life like here? What’s the latest gossip in Vectis?”
The energy shifted, lighter and more pleasant, as people began chiming in with stories. Farmers complaining about sheep with attitudes. A carpenter’s apprentice who’d accidentally sanded down the wrong side of a roof beam. But beneath the laughter, there was something else: a subtle thread of change.
“A dozen folk left last month,” one older man said, stroking his beard. “All young, all full of that Guild ambition. ‘We’ll send money back,’ they said. Most haven’t.”
“It’s not easy work,” added another. “Monster-hunting pays well, sure, but only if you survive.”
Still, the tone wasn’t bitter. It was proud, hopeful, and perhaps a little wistful. Jaime listened, soaking it all in.
Their conversation came to a gentle halt when the chief’s familiar voice cut through the crowd, calm but unmistakably directed at him. “Jaime. A word, if you don’t mind.”
Jaime stood, still holding the half-finished drink in his hand, and followed the older man away from the heart of the celebration. The sounds of music and laughter faded as they walked a short distance down a quiet path lit by torchlight. The night had settled fully now, and with it came the cool air and a rising chorus of crickets in the grass.
Chief Rahl stopped near a wooden bench beneath a tree and motioned for Jaime to sit. He remained standing, his weathered face touched by both the flickering light and something quieter, concern, perhaps.
“I’ve found you a ride to the capital,” he spoke, but with some hesitance in his voice.
“That’s great. When do I leave?” Jaime responded, unsure of what the issue may be.
“Tomorrow morning at first light, one of the town’s merchants should be making his rounds back up this way to collect some product and take it to the capital for us. However, that is not what I wished to discuss.”
Jaime stared at the old man awaiting his next words, “ I usually save this talk for the ones from my town who’ve chosen to join the Guild,” he began, voice lower now. “But tonight, I want to ask you the same.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
“Do you understand what it means to be an adventurer?” The Chief spoke with the face of a father who lost his son.
“I think…” Jaime started, then let the words trail off before trying again. “I’m not sure. Honestly. Not fully.”
Chief Rahl nodded, as if he expected that. “There was a time,” he said slowly, “when we had armies, real ones. Orders, ranks, duty. We didn’t send people out unless they had comrades at their sides and commanders who watched over them. The Adventurer’s Guild?” He exhaled, shaking his head. “It’s not the same. You’ll have your party, sure, but you’re not soldiers. You’re freelancers. You depend on each other and the only thing keeping you alive is your decisions. That’s not a game. That’s life and death. Do you understand?”
Jaime swallowed hard. His buzz was still there, warm in his chest, but his mind had sobered quickly. “I understand.”
“And well. What have you to say?” Rahl responded, taking his time to stare at the man before him.
“I don’t know if I want to be an adventurer,” he said, finally. “Not in the long run. I’ve never been much of a fighter. This world, it’s amazing, but it’s still all so new. I’m trying to understand where I fit.”
The chief listened in silence, his eyes sharp, but not judging. After a beat, he asked, “Then let me ask you this. If you could do anything in this world, what would it be?”
Jaime stared out into the fields beyond the torchlight, his brow creasing. He thought of the stars, how wrong they looked, and yet how right it felt to want to understand them. He thought of the villagers, so curious and kind, and the warmth of the celebration. He thought of stories yet untold, places unseen.
“I’ve been thinking about that all night,” he admitted, a smile pulling at his lips. “I want to explore. Meet people. Learn about this world, help where I can. But more than anything…”
He tilted his head back, gazing at the sky. Constellations glimmered unfamiliar above him, unknowable. “I want to chart the stars.”
There was a long pause before the chief replied. “You want to be an explorer,” he said. It was not a question, but a quiet confirmation.
Jaime nodded. “Something like that.”
Rahl folded his arms, thoughtful. “To be an explorer takes more than curiosity. It takes diligence. Cunning. Leadership. You’ll face hard choices. You’ll walk alone more than you’ll walk with others. But if that’s the path you want, then walk it with purpose.”
He clapped Jaime on the shoulder, a solid gesture of approval and caution. “Make it count.”
Jaime opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of children yawning and being scooped up by parents. Rahl looked back toward the square and gave a quiet hum. “It’s late.”
He stepped away from Jaime and climbed onto a low platform at the center of the square. With practiced ease, he raised his hand and called out, “Friends, neighbors thank you for tonight. You’ve outdone yourselves. But dawn comes quick, and so do chores. Let’s end this on a high note, and get some rest.”
The crowd responded with sleepy cheers and polite applause. One by one, families and couples peeled away, carrying leftovers and empty tankards with them, bidding Jaime goodnight as they passed.
Rahl returned to Jaime’s side and lowered his voice. “That includes you. First light comes quickly, and the merchant, Kaeso, isn’t known to be kind to those who keep him waiting. You’ll ride with him.”
Jaime nodded, but the warmth of the night and the drink was settling heavier now. He felt the weight in his legs.
“Come on,” Rahl said with a knowing smirk. “Let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep in the grass.”
Jaime didn’t argue. He followed the chief back through the winding streets to the house, trying not to sway too noticeably. Once inside, he quietly thanked Rahl again. The chief offered only a nod, then left him in the soft, quiet dark of his borrowed room.
Jaime eased onto the bed, still dressed, and looked once more out the window. A whole sky of unfamiliar stars waited.
And tomorrow, he would begin chasing them.
Notes:
First two chapters are out now! Chapter releases shall be weekly (releasing sometime each weekend). Again let me know your thoughts.
Chapter 3: The Shot
Notes:
I may or may not have forgotten to update this story. Oopsie. Here is 3 and 4.
Chapter Text
At dawn, Jaime was gently roused from sleep by Jehanne. With a soft touch and a quiet voice, she guided him toward the washroom, where a wooden tub was already filled with slightly warm water. His groggy mind picked up her directions to the outhouse behind the house if he needed it. She handed him a clean set of clothes and stepped away, giving him privacy.
Still half-asleep, Jaime washed, scrubbing off the lingering stench of smoke and alcohol from the night before. By the time he finished and dressed, he felt clearer, sobered by the water and the cool morning air slipping in through the stone walls.
Downstairs, he found Jehanne already at work, tidying up the mess from her early cooking. The scent of roasted root and fresh bread hung in the air.
His eyes drifted to the table, where a modest breakfast awaited: a thick slice of bread, a boiled egg, and a cup of sweet root tea that smelled faintly of honey and clove. Jehanne moved about the kitchen with quiet efficiency, her motions practiced and smooth, as soft beams of morning light spilled across the wooden floor.
Jaime let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes. “Where’s Chief Rahl?” he asked, eyes gazing searchingly around the room.
Jehanne looked up from her work and offered a warm, “Good morning.” She dried her hands on a cloth and turned to him with a small smile.
“Good morning,” he responded.
“He’s out in the fields already with most of the town. At least, those who aren’t nursing hangovers.” Her smile turned sly. “The unlucky few still in bed have about an hour left before I drag them up to clean the square.”
She nodded toward the meal. “Now please, eat. Kaeso will be here soon.”
Without needing more encouragement, Jaime sat down and dug in. The food was simpler than he was used to, plainer, with fewer spices but there was a richness in the ingredients themselves. And it fought back his hangover like a charm.
He glanced up between bites. “What should I expect from the journey? With Kaeso, I mean.”
Jehanne sat across from him, folding her hands on the table. “Kaeso’s a well-mannered man. Even-tempered. He’s got a sharp eye for anything valuable, and I mean anything. His partner, Tertius, you’ll know him when you see him is more the muscle. Quiet sort, but kind once he warms up. It’s hard to get him to stop talking once he’s comfortable with you. The two are childhood friends so you might feel out of place but they are good people.”
She leaned in slightly with a grin. “And between you and me, I think they’re more than just childhood friends. Neither’s ever admitted it, but the way they look out for each other… well, I’ve seen enough to know.”
Jaime chuckled softly, chewing the last bite of bread. “Sounds like a good pair to travel with.”
Jehanne stood and reached for his plate. “Let me get that for you.”
“Thank you,” Jaime replied, watching as she took the dish back to the kitchen.
He called out as she moved, “Should I be worried about danger along the way?”
Jehanne snorted, tossing a rag over her shoulder. “Danger? Maybe a petty thief if you’re unlucky, but nothing Kaeso and Tertius haven’t dealt with before. We’re too close to Croton for real trouble. Besides you should be there before nightfall, not too much trouble you can get into in that short of a time.”
“Oh,” Jaime said, a little louder than intended. He hadn’t realized Croton was so close. He stood and crossed the room to her. “Really, thank you for everything. It’s been… a pleasure.”
Jehanne turned, drying her hands again. “The pleasure was ours. It’s been nice having company in the house again.”
“Well I shouldn’t be late.”
As he made for the door, she suddenly stopped him. “Wait!”
Jaime froze, watching her vanish down the hall. He heard the sound of boxes shifting, drawers sliding, something wooden scraping gently. Then, after a moment, she returned with a coat.
Without a word, she moved behind him and draped it over his shoulders. The fabric was thick, the inside lined with soft wool. On the chest was a small hand-stitched crest: a sun rising over three hills.
“What’s this for?” he asked, running his fingers over the emblem.
She stepped in front of him and adjusted the collar. “City life has its glitz and glamor, but it’s not always what it seems. Add the dangers of adventuring on top of it, and it can get overwhelming. Scary. And,” her voice softened, “lonely.”
She met his eyes and held his gaze. “If you ever need a break, or a place to come back to… Vectis will always welcome you. There’s always work, and always a room.”
Moved, Jaime gave a small smile and leaned forward to hug her. She hugged him tightly in return.
“Thank you,” he said again, gripping the coat.
She nodded. “Go on. You’ve got a road to catch.”
He exited the door and made his way to the town square, still littered with trash from last night’s celebration. But the town was alive, a portion of the farmers could be spotted off in the nearby fields, tending and managing the crops. While others tended to their small shops, children chasing chickens out of the road, the faint clang of hammer on anvil ringing from the forge down the hill. It was a different kind of rhythm than the night before, slower and more purposeful.
Near the central fountain, Jaime spotted a stout wooden cart being loaded up with bundles of cloth, baskets of vegetables, and crates stamped with faded merchant sigils. Two men were working in tandem; one, tall and broad-shouldered with a thick mane of brown-blond hair tied back in a short tail, lifted a sack of grain effortlessly into the cart. The other, shorter and leaner, was handing off a box wrapped in linen to a nearby farmer.
Jaime approached, raising a hand in greeting. “Excuse me, are you Kaeso and Tertius?”
The shorter of the two turned first, brushing dust from his hands. His eyes scanned Jaime up and down with a trader’s quick, appraising glance. “We are,” he said with a nod. “You must be the player we heard about. Jaime, right?”
“That’s me,” Jaime replied.
“I’m Kaeso,” the trader said, offering a firm handshake. “And that brute over there’s Tertius.” Tertitus did not immediately approach, instead he continued loading up the cart. Only once finished did Tertius Offer grunt of acknowledgement to Jaime.
Kaeso gestured to the cart. “We’ve just got a few more crates to load. Shouldn’t be more than a minute or two. You can wait over there if you’d like.”
Jaime glanced toward the bench by the well, then back at the cart. “I don’t mind lending a hand.”
Kaeso looked pleasantly surprised. “Well, I won’t argue with free labor.”
The three of them got to work. Jaime helped hoist baskets of late-harvest apples, root vegetables, jars of pickled goods, and hand-wrapped trinkets that looked like they came from the local woodworker.
As he passed one bundle off to Kaeso to load onto the cart, Jaime’s eyes landed on a pair of finely crafted bows lashed to the inside of the cart wall, along with several quivers of arrows. The wood was pale, polished smooth, and inlaid with delicate etching clearly made with care.
“These look expensive,” Jaime noted, brushing his fingers lightly over one of the bows.
Tertius, who was securing a tarp over the cart’s rear, glanced over. “One of the locals makes ’em. Good eye.”
“Really?” Jaime asked, inspecting the fletching on the arrows. “They’re beautiful.”
“They sell alright in the city,” Kaeso added, climbing up onto the front bench. “But they’re more for collectors, old nobles, or hunters with credits to burn. Adventurers tend to buy cheaper imports or military surplus. These are better made, sure but that’s not always the priority in a fight.”
Jaime gave a nod to that sentiment. “Makes sense.”
With the last of the goods packed and tied down, Tertius climbed up beside Kaeso, while Jaime hoisted himself into the back of the cart, settling in among the cargo. The seat wasn’t comfortable, but as long as they avoided any bumpy roads he would be fine.
Kaeso turned in his seat. “You might want to catch some sleep while you can. We’ll be on the road for a good stretch, and the first leg’s mostly flat. Not much to see ‘til we hit the hills.”
As if triggering the tiredness he had thought he defeated, Jaime yawned, already feeling the exhaustion of the night’s drinking creeping back in. “Right. I’ll try.”
As the cart creaked into motion, rolling along the patchwork of gravel and dirt road, Jaime leaned back against a crate, pulling the gifted coat tighter around him. He let the voices of Kaeso and Tertius drift to the background, casual banter about roads and tolls, minor repairs they needed to make in Croton and let his eyes slip closed.
Jaime stirred as the scent of roasted grain and smoked meat drifted into his nose. The steady clatter of wheels over cobblestone told him they were getting close to the city. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, groggy but more rested than expected.
He pulled back the small tarp separating the two merchants from the cargo and peeked out. They noticed him.
“Look who’s finally up. Geez, kid,you slept the whole day away. It’s past noon,” Kaeso chided.
Tertius took a bite of the jerky in his hand, gave Jaime a brief nod of acknowledgment, and then handed him a strip.
“Thanks.” Jaime accepted the mystery meat and took a bite. It was good, though he couldn’t quite place what animal it had come from, and given the medieval setting, probably didn’t want to. He kept chewing.
Kaeso slid aside and patted the bench. “Now that you’re awake, come up here. Could use someone to talk to besides this big lug.”
Jaime downed the rest of the jerky and climbed through the tarp, wedging himself into the front seat between the two men. The only real hassle came from untangling his boots from a box of cargo.
Tertius chuckled at the struggle and scooted aside to give him room. Once free, Jaime sat upright and glanced around. The scenery was still part of the same biome as Victis: rolling grasslands, scattered groves, and forested areas. But the terrain had evened out, and the roads here were more well-kept, even paved. It was calm. Surprisingly calm, given the kind of adventure Huck used to ramble on about.
“So,” Jaime began, “How bad is it out there? I mean… really. People talk about monsters, but how often do they actually show up?”
Kaeso chewed thoughtfully before answering. “Depends where you go. Closer to the capital, you might see one every few weeks. If you’re lucky, you might have a run in or see one once a month. Used to be, you’d never see one at all. But those days are gone. Further out near the ruins, the deep woods? You’ll find something every other day. And it’s only getting worse, from what I hear.”
Tertius grunted. “Worse part is when it finds you. When that monster stops lingering in the distance and you actually have to deal with it.”
Jaime raised an eyebrow. “They just… show up? Why? I get they’re from the Shadow Continent, but how are they getting here?”
Kaeso leaned back slightly, his hands light on the reins. “That’s the mystery.”
“Migration,” Tertius added. “They’re pushing south. And with no real army left to stop them, only the adventurers and scattered militias stand in their way.”
“But the question remains is why?” Kaeso nodded, picking up the thread. “Before the war, monsters were rare. There was even a campaign to wipe them out, some expedition to the Shadow Continent. But that ended once the war began. Then monsters started appearing more regularly. Still just beasts, though. Dangerous, twisted animals. Packs of razor hounds. Tunnel crawlers. Disaster bears. You get the picture. Mean things, but nothing a trained adventurer or a town’s militia couldn’t handle.”
“But then came the plague,” Tertius added, his voice low.
Jaime looked between them. “That turned people into monsters, right?”
Kaeso’s expression darkened. “Twisted them. Corpses that didn’t stay dead. Infected who lost their minds. But most turned into… things. They looked like beasts, but they fought with cunning. Smarter. Stronger. Meaner. It’s wrong.”
“There’s two kinds of monsters now,” Tertius said, his eyes scanning the horizon. “The natural ones, the ones that always existed. Then there are plague-born. They’re harder to predict. Fight like men, sometimes. Hunt like wolves.”
Jaime’s stomach tightened. “That’s… horrifying.”
Kaeso gave a rueful smile. “That’s why we stay sharp and travel smart.”
“And why we don’t stray too far from civilization,” Tertius added.
The group fell into silence. For some time, they rode without a word, but Jaime’s thoughts swirled. This world had deep lore, far more than a simulated game should? One that had a lasting impact on the people of this world. And what role did he serve, or any of the so-called players. They were intruders feeding their power fantasy on a desperate and needy world, were they saviors or abusers. He looked up at the blue sky, expansive and wide but fake. Did it even matter? He didn’t know, but he figured he would find out in the capital.
Not half an hour later, Kaeso raised a hand to signal a stop. Up ahead, nestled awkwardly in a bend in the road, was a shattered wagon. One of its wheels lay several feet away, splintered. Its canvas cover had been shredded. Empty crates and a few broken jars littered the dirt, their contents long gone.
“Stay in the cart,” Tertius said, already jumping down, weapon drawn.
Jaime followed instinctively. “I’ll help check.”
Kaeso remained on the bench, frowning. “Bandits?”
Tertius crouched beside the wreckage, examining the claw marks raked across the wood. “No. This was something else.”
He pointed to the dirt. Large paw prints, deep and wide, led away into the brush. Blood smeared the rim of one wheel. The smell of copper still lingered in the air.
“Monster?” Jaime asked quietly.
Tertius nodded grimly. “Plague-born. The cargo looks sorted through, not fully rummaged like an animal.” he clicked his teeth, “Tracks are a few hours old. Probably attacked early this morning.”
Kaeso swore under his breath. “Damn. Any sign of the owners?”
“No bodies, and no sign of them either,” Tertius said, rising to his full height. “Might’ve dragged someone off. Or they ran. Hard to say.”
Jaime stepped back, unease coiling in his chest. “Should we go after it? Try to help?”
Tertius looked at him, steady and firm. “No. That’s a guild job. We’re not equipped to hunt one of these, and it could still be nearby. The best thing we can do is report it once we get to Croton.”
He turned to the cart. “Everyone stay sharp. Keep your eyes open. We’re moving.” Kaeso gets the cart back moving, catching up to the two of them, as they leave the wreck behind and seek to meet him halfway.
Jaime perked up, his body tensing with energy. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, walking beside him.
Tertius barely glanced back, his voice calm but firm. “Calm down, the beast is probably miles away. Just keep your eyes open. If you see anything strange, yell.”
Jaime nodded, though the urge to do more gnawed at him.The men loaded back onto the cart and continued down the road. Their pace was quickened, but steady. All eyes were scanning the scenery.
Jaime’s eyes scanned about, but was taken at the sudden rise of birds from the nearby brush up ahead. He turned to the light forest that bordered it, heart beating a little faster now, trying to focus on shapes in the underbrush, on anything that moved.
Then the world exploded.
The brush ahead detonated in a blur of muscle and fur and claws. A monstrous shape tore through the undergrowth with terrifying speed. Jaime barely had time to scream.
“Get down!”
The beast crashed into the cart with a thunderous impact, wood splintering under its weight. The horse reared and shrieked, then crumpled as the whole rig toppled sideways. Jaime was thrown hard, the breath knocked out of him as he hit the dirt.
Everything spun, shouts, hooves, the sickening crunch of wood and bone and then a hand gripped him, strong and frantic.
“Get up, kid!” Kaeso grunted, dragging Jaime out from under the side of the collapsed cart.
Jaime stumbled to his feet, vision still swimming. He turned just in time to see Tertius launch into action, already halfway across the road, blade drawn in a smooth motion that seemed instinctual. No hesitation or fear, just brutal efficiency.
The monster met him head-on. It was massive, easily the size of a bear, its skin like patchy leather stretched over raw muscle, its mouth a mess of fangs and black drool. It swung with wild strength, its claws flashing like blades.
“A werewolf?” Jaime muttered, in disbelief.
Tertius didn’t flinch. He moved with precision, blade snapping up to deflect the first swipe. Then the second. He dodged low, kicked up a spray of dust, then struck back, slicing across the creature’s flank in a clean arc that should’ve brought it down.
It didn’t.
The beast roared and surged forward, hammering a fist down hard enough to shatter the cobble in the road. Tertius blocked again, but the impact sent him stumbling. He caught himself, twisted to avoid the follow-up, and slashed again, this time aiming for the legs. It landed, but the monster didn’t slow.
Jaime watched, breath caught in his throat. Tertius was skilled, no doubt. Every movement was clean, measured. He knew what he was doing. But the monster was stronger. Too strong.
It slammed into Tertius with its full weight, sending him skidding back, boots scraping for purchase. He went down to one knee, sword still up, chest heaving but Jaime could see it. The edge was slipping. The beast was pressing harder now. Dominating.
“Come on,” Kaeso hissed beside him, hand hovering near a short blade he was clearly both uncomfortable and too scared to use. “Come on, Tertius…” desperation dripped with each word.
Jaime remembered the gossip Jehanne had told him this morning, these men were friends, and possibly more so. They have been through hell together, and if Kaseo was worried. Jaime looked back at the fight, and finished his thought, I should be too.
Jaime’s breath hitched as he saw it: Tertius faltering, back bent, blade barely catching the next savage swipe. His foot slipped on the loose dirt. The monster reared back, ready for another assault. One Jaime didn’t think Tertius could survive.
A single thought passed his mind, He’s going to die.
Jaime bolted.
His boots pounded across the road, skidding around the back of the cart. Fingers scrambled across the fallen supplies until they closed around smooth wood, one of the bows he’d seen earlier. Not the best make, but solid. Strung. Ready. Next to it, a quiver half-buried under loose cloth.
He snatched it up, drew an arrow in the same motion, and popped out from behind the wreckage.
The world narrowed. The sound dulled. There was only the monster, looming over Tertius. Only the exposed side of its face.
Calculations entered and exited his mind as Jaime exhaled.
The arrow flew.
It struck with a sickening crunch, burying deep into the creature’s eye.
The beast shrieked and staggered back, clawing blindly at its face. Tertius rolled away just in time, coughing and bleeding, but alive.
Jaime didn’t wait. He already had another arrow nocked. Then another. He let them fly with a speed that surprised even him. One struck the beast in the neck, another in the thigh and one just under the jaw slicing between tendons and muscle.
It howled again this time in pain.
That was the opening.
Tertius, blood streaked across his face, pushed up from the dirt with a growl. His blade flashed in the sunlight, catching the monster as it turned toward Jaime.
One clean cut across the throat. A spray of dark blood. Then silence.
The beast fell in a heap, twitching once before going still.
Jaime stood frozen, bow still raised, breath coming hard and uneven. It wasn’t until Kaeso ran up behind him, grabbing his shoulder, that he realized it was over.
Tertius however did not cease, stabbing the beast again and again and again. Its dark blood pooling around his feet. Finally, he stopped and glanced up at them. It was over, he had won. No. Survived.
Tertius approached slowly, wiping the blade clean as he walked. His face was unreadable, jaw clenched, shoulders tense.
“You alright?” Kaeso asked him, voice laced in overwhelming worry.
Tertius nodded first, and hugged Kaeso. The anxiety and dread of the moment alleviated. He then released Kaseo and looked at Jaime. For a long second, he said nothing. Then he offered a short, sincere “Thanks.”
Jaime swallowed, lowering the bow. “Yeah. Of course.”
Together, the three of them returned to the wreckage. Kaeso bandaged up Tertius’ wounds, andJaime decided to offer the two space, walking off to collect the scattered cargo. He could hear the murmuring of their conversation, and tried to ignore the implications of the few words he caught.
They soon joined him. They worked in silence, muscles sore and nerves fried. Jaime helped lift the cart while Tertius reset the broken yoke, and Kaeso calmed what was left of the panicked horse team. It took time, but eventually the cart stood upright again, bruised but functional.
Jaime wiped sweat from his brow, still eyeing the monster’s body in the road. He didn’t feel triumphant. Just… relieved.
Once everything was secure, they climbed back aboard, Jaime this time taking a seat up front bow still in hand, while Tertius rested in the back.
As the cart rolled back onto the road and the wheels creaked into motion, Kaeso offered him a nod. “That was good shooting. Don’t suppose you’ve done that before?”
Jaime stared out at the horizon, not quite smiling. “Once or twice,” he said, recalling an archery game he had played a few times before getting bored at how easy it was. But pride swelled in his chest. He had helped and saved the day. And it felt good.
They reached the capital gates just as the sky began to dim, the sun dipping low behind the outer walls of Croton. The looming stone towers caught the last golden rays, casting long shadows over the caravan road. Tired, sore, and still streaked with dried blood and dirt, they filed into the checkpoint.
Nearing the gate, a guard approached, stiff in his decorated leather armor that had seen more parades than battles. He surprised Jaime with his formal southern-ish accent, something akin to a southern politician.
“Now hold there, friends. Papers, if you please.” His voice was tired, as if nearing the end of his shift.
Kaeso handed them over without missing a beat. The soldier barely glanced at the documents before waving a junior officer over.
“Y’all cutting it a bit close. Gate closes in fourty, but looks like everything’s in order.” He looked at the junior officer. “Get these folks processed ‘fore that bell tolls. No point in having ‘em stuck out here ‘till dawn.”
“Yes, sir,” the junior replied, his accent lighter, but still cut from the same cloth.
With a few pointed gestures and a scribbled note on paper, the trio were ushered through a side gate, bypassing the line of merchant latecomers without paperwork still arguing at the main gate.
The capital air hit differently, it was denser, humming with the presence of thousands. Jaime’s eyes flicked over the massive inner wall that led to the various districts. Lamps were already being lit by an assortment of kids, casting a warm, flickering glow that stretched down the curved, cobbled street ahead.
They were directed through the outer residential quarter, into the merchant corridor. Even this late, the air was thick with the scent of smoke, spice, and something vaguely metallic. Guards stood at corners, less ceremonious than the gatekeepers, more practical, watching everyone with tired but trained eyes.
Their wagon rolled to a stop outside a low-slung inspection station. A set of uniformed workers clearly not guards given their lack of armor came out. Paperwork was exchanged.
“Go ahead and clear out the cart, I should remind you that anything that has been deemed taboo will be confiscated and you could face prosecution.” The female inspector noted.
“I understand.” Kaseo groaned. He checked behind the tarp and called for Tertius, “You ready?”
Jaime didn’t hear a reply but heard the shuffle about, that denoted Tertius was exiting the cart.
He hopped down, and Jaime followed suit. Together, they hauled crates of produce, tools, and small trinkets into the open bay. Jaime noticed Tertius hung back slightly, one hand resting casually on his hip, where his weapon still sat. Watching and ensuring none of these inspectors had sneaky hands.
The inspectors moved quickly, checking seals, weighing bags, scribbling notes. One of them picked up a jar of pickled roots, opened it, sniffed, and nodded without a word.
They handed Kaseo back his paperwork and gave him a rehearsed approval speech. The two inspectors left them to reload their cart and take it deeper into the city.
“We’re good,” he said. “Cleared to move on. Final tally’ll come in a day or two. We just need to get the goods stored.”
“Where to now?” Jaime asked.
Kaeso tilted his head toward a row of low buildings near the back of the corridor. “We’ve got a stall reserved on Merchant Row. We’ll drop off the goods, then call it a night.”
“That’s it?” Jaime asked.
Kaseo folded his paperwork and stored it in his pocket, “Well that’s it for us but not for you. You got a different purpose here. But before that, let me be the first to say—”
“Welcome to Croton.” Tertius cut him off with a grin.
Chapter 4: Croton - City of Adventurers
Chapter Text
Once the last crate was secured behind locked shutters, Kaeso gave Tertius a smile and motioned for Jaime to follow.
“Come on,” he said, dusting off his hands. “Time to get you situated in this city.”
Jaime matched his pace as they turned onto a broader, busier street. The crowds were thinning, the lamps burning stronger now that the sun had dipped behind the towers. The city felt alive in a different way after dark, less bustle, more free. People were off the street, but you could find them in the nearby taverns getting a meal to go or staying for a few drinks. Shops were largely closing up but some stayed open for the midnight crowd, inns opened their doors inviting anybody passing by inside for either food or a place of rest. However, some of these “inns” pulled closed their red curtains to market some more adult businesses.
Their walk was quiet as Kaeso just let him take in everything. A short walk later, they arrived at the Adventurer’s Guild.
Jaime stopped short at the sheer size of it. The building was a fortress: thick stone walls wrapped around an old military compound that had clearly been repurposed. It loomed three stories high, wider than most palaces he’d seen back home in games or movies. A well-worn flag bearing the guild’s insignia, an open gauntlet clutching a torch, hung from the upper rampart, fluttering in the breeze.
Kaeso led him to a side stairwell carved into the outer wall, which curled them up to what must’ve been the original second floor. They passed a small crowd: some armored, others in mismatched gear or dusty cloaks. Veterans and rookies, Jaime guessed. While all others passing by were civilians, stopping by the guild for their own personal reasons.
Jaime kept quiet, following Kaeso’s lead.
Inside, the building opened up into a sprawling lobby with vaulted ceilings. The light from hung torches gave it a fiery but polished sheen, but it still had the bones of an old military post: wide arches, narrow windows, reinforced doors.
The room was split by a tall iron gate that created a clear divide between the public-facing service counters and the inner sanctum of the guild. A large woman in a dark guard uniform stood at the center of the gate. Each time an adventurer approached, they flashed a small item, one he couldn’t quite make out, before being let in. Those let in descended down a stairwell to the true first floor. Down below he could hear the hum of conversation, clinking of mugs and the faint smell of booze. Most likely a lounge of sorts existed there for adventurers only. But what else hid down there?
Kaeso steered him toward the service counters, now mostly quiet. The desks stretched along the length of the lobby, each with placards above them labeled in both the common language of this world and English: Quest Management, Registration, Monster Sightings, Tourism, General Services, and others he didn’t catch being written only in the common language. Most were closed for the night, their windows shuttered or only lightly staffed.
At the far end, a tired but still alert clerk sat under the glowing Registration sign. She glanced up as they approached, adjusting the collar of her uniform and brushing a curl of hair behind her ear.
“Evening,” she said, her voice crisp but polite. “You boys looking to sign-up as adventurers?”
Kaeso stepped forward, his arms gripping Jaime’s shoulder. “Not me but this boy here. A new player brought in from Victus. Matter of fact, he helped us take out this wolf-like beast along our trip on the Sora route. Plague-born.”
The clerk perked up at the mention. “Sora route, huh. That’s good to hear. We had a merchant come in just a couple hours ago and log a quest for that same incident. If it’s dead, I can go ahead and cancel the quest.”
“It’s dead, I can assure you,” Jamie said, reminding himself of the multitude of stab wounds Tertius left.
“Proper disposal taken care of?” she followed up, looking at Kaeso.
Kaeso clicked his tongue, “I knew we were forgetting something.”
“No worries. We’ll send a team to clean it up.” She scribbled something down and slid the note to a nearby attendant.
“Thank you,” Kaeso responded.
The clerk gave Jaime a more thorough look now, assessing. “Well, then. Congratulations on your first unofficial quest. But before Victus gets their reward, we need to verify your status as a player. First, what is your name?”
“Jaime.” Jaime responded, pushing up as much confidence as possible.
She smiled, “I’m Seia, nice to meet you. Jaime, come right this way, will you?”
Kaeso gave him a nice rub on his shoulder as the attendant exited the stall and waved Jaime forward toward the stairwell up. Another attendant quickly took over her position in the meanwhile.
The new attendant looked over at Kaeso and spoke, “Sir, you may have a seat in the lounge over there, his test should not take more than an hour.”
Kaeso nodded “Good luck,” he said to Jaime, and then departed, settling onto a worn wooden bench tucked into the corner. Watching as Jaime made his way to the attendant, Kaeso gave one final remark, “Don’t stress too much. If they break you, I’ll sell what’s left.” He chuckled at his own joke. Jaime merely smiled before following the attendant.
The second floor was quieter, walled off from the din of the lobby and the hum of the lounge. The lighting was different too, cooler and clinical, shifting from warm lantern light to a softer color created by the tinted blue glass of the lanterns. It didn’t feel like a guild anymore, it felt like an administrative office.
“Apologies ahead of time, usually there are more people in the guild home that could assist in this process and make it go faster, but a lot have gone home. As a result, I’ll be handling your verification and registration today,” Seia spoke, her eyes only barely looking at him as she continued to lead.
“That’s fine with me.” Jaime smiled, hoping that it might alleviate any perceived issues with the situation.
Seia led him into one of the private rooms, utilizing a key on her ring she unlocked it and the two entered. Seia quickly made her way to the lanterns in the room and \ lit them with a stone. The stone appearing to have twinkled with… electricity?
Magic? Jaime thought, but he did not say anything out loud.
Now illuminated, Jaime could see everything in the tiny room. There sat a cushioned table, a chair and a tray that held what looked like a strange combination of medical tools and more of those stones each bearing different marks.
Curiosity ate at him and he began to ask what the stones were, but he was interrupted by her command. “Strip from the waist up, please. And then lay flat on the table. We need to verify your markings.” She closed the door behind them to offer some form of privacy, yet she did not attempt to excuse herself from watching him derobe.
Jaime raised an eyebrow but complied, pulling his shirt over his head. The air inside was cool against his skin, and the lavender glow of his rune somehow became dimmer in the darkened room. He laid flat on the table, scooting around to make himself somehow comfortable. He heard her grab the tray and scoot the chair closer to the table. Followed was the sensation of touching and prodding as the examination began.
The first several minutes were silent, as Jaime attempted to focus on what exactly she was doing. But every time he thought he had an idea, the tool being used changed, and another series of strange sensations began. He could tell the difference between the medical tools and the stone, the medical tools were cold and they prodded and examined. While the stones did something to the rune itself, as he felt heat, cold, static and sometimes just pain emanating from his back.
“You wouldn’t believe how many people try to fake these with tattoos. The smartest at least have it dyed but most don’t. They don’t realize the real ones radiate mana, like a heartbeat. Every set of runes is unique, and they glow differently depending on the individual, even the color.”
Cold hit his back once more as he shifted in discomfort. She offered a polite “Sorry” but didn’t cease.
“How many fake ones do you see?” Jaime asked, his question muffled by the comforter beneath him.
“Not many nowadays, one or two a month. More right before winter, villages get desperate and send people hoping to get that reward. Real players come in waves, we might get one or two a year, if they decide to become an adventurer. Heard many just travel town to town and never register. But still it’s strange, it feels like you never see one and then all of a sudden we get a bunch of them.”
She paused pondering that thought, Jaime had the answer but was unsure if it would confuse her further, and so he allowed her to come to her own conclusions.
“So we will deal with the fakes. However, ever since the punishment for lying became death, it scared most people away from it,” Seia responded in a voice that told she had seen those executions.
The cold sensation ceased, and she rose up and patted his back like a reward. “You, however, don’t need to worry about that. Your rune responded accordingly, you’re the real deal.”
Jaime got up from the table, and was handed his shirt by Seia. She moved to finalize a form she had been writing on before nodding to him to follow her. He followed out of the room, and she waited for him to depart the door. Once he crossed the threshold, she returned back to the room and manually snuffed out the flames.
Returning to Jaime’s side she guided him to the next room. “Now we’ll run a basic physical assessment. This determines your baseline stats and gives us a better idea of where to classify you for quests.”
The testing room was just down the hall, part gym and part training floor. It wasn’t much, seeming to be a model of what must be a much bigger training room in the actual adventurers area. She led him inside and motioned to the first area, stacked weights and reinforced lifting equipment.
“Start with strength. Let’s see how much you can lift and carry.”
Jaime stepped forward, flexed his fingers, and got to work. This was the part he was worried about, he was never one for strength in the real world. But then again, loading and unloading the cart with Kaeso and Tertius had been easier than he imagined it would be. So maybe he could do this.
He managed to push through the sets, surprising himself with his baseline strength. It wasn’t superhuman, but the numbers still impressed Seia, who jotted down notes as he moved from deadlifts to shoulder presses and resistance training. She smiled and Jaime took note of it. She had been so polite and reserved, but it seemed that this part might be her favorite.
Next was agility. The course looked simple at first: cones, hurdles, and pressure-sensitive tiles. But halfway through, the lights began to shift, and sections of the floor dropped or shifted. Jaime adapted quickly, adjusting his steps with speed and precision that made Seia raise her brows.
“Not bad,” she muttered. There it was again the slight smirk and change of posture. He had seen it on operators who were itching to talk after a long shift, and finally found someone to talk to. She was having fun.
Then came the sparring test. Which she announced with a hint of mischief in her voice. He hadn’t expected to fight at all, but then again it made sense for it to be part of the test.
“So who is my opponent?” he asked half expecting an adventurer to walk into the room and test him. What he hadn’t expected was for Seia to take off her guild jacket and place on the leather bound training gear that aligned the wall.
Noticing him watching her she commented, “All guild employees must pass a certain level of combat readiness. Now focus on yourself. Get ready.” Again, the polite tone that seemed now to hide her excitement.
Jaime obliged, grabbing and putting on his own set of armor. It was constrictive, not quite his size but effective enough to prevent any serious injuries. Jaime barely had time to grab the blunted practice sword before Seia commanded for him to stand ready.
She charged at him, hard.
Jaime’s instincts kicked in, and what followed was less a duel and more a blitz of motion. He wasn’t stronger than her at all. Despite her slender build, she carried muscle and was intent on using it. He was however faster: ducking, rolling, and catching Seia off guard more than once. When he did get hit, and there were hits, they didn’t hurt the way they should have. A sharp crack to the ribs only left him winded, not broken. The pain was there but lessened. The same couldn’t be said about her, his hits, while infrequent, took their toll on her body, he could see it in how she slowed down. If it became a race of endurance, he was sure he could win.
“That’s enough,” she called, tossing her weapon to the ground and stretching.
Jaime froze. “Huh?”
She began removing her gear, and stopped to look at him. “This was merely an examination of skill, not a competition. Please try not to lose focus of the objective of this assessment.”
That’s right. This was merely to test him. He chuckled, he had gotten lost in the battle, it was fun. He rubbed his injured side, and removed his own gear. Once finished she guided him over to the last test.
Archery. A wall of targets, some stationary, others moving by a crunk wheel that Seia was using. Jaime took up a training bow, slightly heavier than the one he used from the cart, and began firing.
Seia let out a small whistle. “You’re definitely an archer. Or at the very least, support. Ranged precision, high agility, above-average durability and strength. Your hand to hand combat skills are sufficient enough to beat a street rat but you’re not a front-liner, not yet at least.”
Jaime let the bow lower and caught his breath. “Is that a good thing?”
“No such thing as good or bad, just what I recommend.” She replied. Gripping her sheet of paper she finalized her report. “That concludes your examination, and it’s safe to say you pass. We’ll finalize your evaluation in our file system and send an official report and reward to Victus. We’ll get you a provisional license downstairs, see when we can set you up with orientation, and get you a copy of the official adventurer’s handbook, which I would read if you don’t want to end up in jail. Too many adventurers let the title get to their head and end up imprisoned and stripped of their title. Let’s make sure you are not one of them.”
“Yes ma’am, I’ll read it from cover to cover,” Jaime said, but thinking about it he didn’t know the last time he had read a book. It would be the orbital controllers guide, but the information there had been physically downloaded into his brain via a data chip. He looked at the torches on the wall. He doubted they had that even in rune form.
“Good.” Seia responded, remembering to grab her guild jacket as the cool and polite individual took over as she escorted him out of the room.
She led him back through the stairwell and down a different set of steps than before, narrower, darker, spiraling into a lower level that hummed with energy. The walls were lined with wooden beams, and as they descended, the air grew colder and the murmuring of adventurers he had heard when he first entered was louder.
He had been right to assume there was a bar of sorts down here, more a tavern supplying adventurers with food, rations and most importantly beer. Given the prices, everything seemed to be discounted. They navigated through the crowd as Seia was looking for a more quiet area to talk. Despite the numerous adventurers, the given size of the area meant there was plenty of space.
“Down here is where new adventurers get their bearings, restock, train, form parties, or hang between quests,” she said over her shoulder. “Orientation covers town protocols, how to read a quest board, emergency procedures, guild hierarchy—”
Before she could finish, an armored figure cut through the crowd fast, too fast. Jaime barely had time to react as a blur lunged from the shadows.
He ducked instinctively, the wind from the strike brushing past his ear. The next swing came wide, and he pivoted backward, reaching for a weapon he didn’t have. For a split second, adrenaline surged through him until his eyes locked on the grinning face of his attacker.
“Huck?!”
The wide figure grinned from ear to ear, brushing hair out of his face. “Heh, you still got those quick reflexes, cowboy. But I almost caught you that time.”
Seia exhaled sharply through her nose. “Do you two know each other?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jaime said, still a little winded as he stepped forward and embraced the taller boy. “We know each other from the other world.”
Seia stared at the two of them for a moment, as if that statement broke something in her. “Sometimes, you players don’t make sense to me.” She reset herself and in a more polite but annoyed tone muttered, “I suppose that explains the ambush. Figures.”
Huck clapped Jaime on the back, still beaming. “You takin’ him through orientation, Seia? ’Cause I can handle that! He’s going to be part of my party anyway.”
“I don’t know.” Seia responded, “Has Zane approved his entry to your party?”
“You know it,” Huck responded. A lie, Jaime caught it, but it seemed Seia didn’t. Even still, she was contemplating it.
Huck pushed more, “C’mon, I’ve been waitin’ on him for days. It will get me out of this place. Let me show him around.”
“You’ve got less than an hour until shops close,” Seia warned, capitulating, “If you want him properly settled in town.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Huck said with mock seriousness, tugging at an invisible hat brim. “We’ll be fast as a jackrabbit in a thunderstorm.”
Seia groaned. She then approached Jaime and handed him a circular bluish green gemstone necklace with a runic symbol on one side and the guild symbol on the other. “This is your license, keep it with you at all times. Wear it with pride, and welcome to the Adventurers Guild.”
“Thank you.” Jaime responded, immediately placing the necklace around his neck.
Once Seia turned and strode off, Jaime raised a brow. “How long have you been here? You said you meet me here but it’s night time. Have you been sleeping here?”
Huck snorted. “I did the first night. Camped out in the guildhouse like a loyal hound, just like I promised.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “But lemme tell ya… if I had to be stuck here another day I would have gone mad. If it wasn’t for the card tables and cheap ale? I may have left ya, this morning. That being said, I may have accidentally gambled away all my credits, so let’s hope Zane has a mission lined up.”
Jaime gave him a long look. “Seriously?”
“Totally worth it,” Huck said with a lopsided grin. “You’re finally here. Now things are gonna get interesting.”
As they strolled through the main hallway, Huck jabbed Jaime in the ribs with an elbow, grinning like he was sitting on the world’s biggest secret.
“Y’know,” Huck started, “word’s already out about you.”
Jaime blinked. “What?”
“That trader guy you rode in with Kaeso, right? He managed to sneak down here one way or another and been talking. He’s been goin’ around tellin’ anyone who’ll listen about how you took down some plague-born beast like it was nothin’.” Huck wiggled his fingers dramatically. “Right through the eye, they say. Just pew! Clean shot.”
Jaime laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck. “It wasn’t that clean. I was panicking. It was instinct. Besides, it doesn’t matter, I didn’t take it down alone.”
“Don’t matter if you soloed it or not, you did it,” Huck said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “First day in the wilds and you already got a body under your belt. Folks go months before they see their first monster, let alone drop one. Most of these folks are scared of facing any true monsters, and you took down one.”
Jaime’s expression shifted, eyes drifting thoughtfully. “Where is Kaeso, anyway?”
“Oh, he left not long after we talked,” Huck replied, steering them down a narrower hallway filled with signs pointing to local services. “Said he did his part of the deal but he left somethin’ for ya.”
He turned and pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from the corner where he’d stashed it, unrolling it with a little flourish. Inside lay the same bow Jaime had pulled from the cart, scratched up from the crash up but still nearly flawless in design. “Said this was his investment in you,” Huck said, offering it out.
Jaime reached for it, fingers curling around the grip. A small smile broke across his face. “Thanks, Kaeso.”
Huck whistled. “Damn right. Now all you need’s a cool nickname and maybe a dramatic cape, and we’ll be unstoppable.”
Jaime snickered, “And you have a cool nickname?”
Huck blushed and looked away, “Well no but if we both got a signature look it would only be a matter of time before we get one.”
“I’ll pass.” Jaime responded.
“Oh before I forget, he also left you this.” Huck reached in his pocket and held up a small purse of credits, “Claimed it was payment for your guard duty.”
Jaime claimed it and looked inside, Huck answered the question that was written on his face, “There is enough in there to get you sorted. And I promise I didn’t take any.”
Jaime nodded and placed the purse in his pocket. He exited the building with Huck. Outside, it was clear that night had fallen but Huck swore that there were still a few weapons and armor shops open. He just hoped they were good.
The city streets were light with travelers at this point of the night. Most of the shops were indeed closed or in the process of closing. Their only hope of finding gear was with independent blacksmiths, who were lost in the process of work. And more often than not, unsavory business men whose stocks were suspiciously acquired.
“You weren’t kiddin’ about this place being huge,” Jaime muttered.
Huck beamed, arms spread like he owned the place. “Welcome to Croton, city of second chances, broken dreams, and surprisingly decent food if you know where to look. You like fried stuff? You’re gonna love the market square.”
They turned down a busier lane, dodging a group of traveling minstrels and a wagon overloaded with crates.
“You’ve got a whole team now, right?” Jaime asked, glancing over.
“Oh yeah,” Huck said proudly. “Wait till you meet ’em. Rose, absolute beast in a fight. She’s got this big ol’ halberd and moves like it weighs nothin’. Beautiful too, though don’t let that fool you. She’s terrifying as shit. Guy tried to get handsy with her, and she punched him clean through the tavern door.”
Jaime blinked. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. That guy flew.”
Jaime chuckled, shaking his head.
“And Zane?” Huck grinned. “Man, Zane’s a legend. Like, actual legend. Helped reforge Croton after the collapse. One of the first adventurers who pushed back into the old ruins and carved out space for the rest of us. If he wasn’t so chill, I’d probably still be afraid of him.”
“When do I get to meet them?” Jaime asked, adjusting the strap of his satchel.
“Tonight,” Huck replied. “But first? We gotta get you lookin’ less like a city slicker.”
Their first stop was a narrow little armor shop tucked between a closed blacksmith and a spice vendor. Inside, the walls were lined with everything from boiled leather jerkins to curved daggers and buckled boots. The merchant looked shady, and the goods looked like they came all over the city if not the continent. Jaime wanted to push and ask the nature of the items, but Huck intervened and took over pointing out gear for Jaime to try on or buy.
Jaime picked out a simple leather chestpiece that flowed downward to protect his thighs, a short sword to keep at his side, and a cheap but sturdy clip to secure his bow to his back.
As they rang up the purchase, the shopkeeper, a tired old man with thick glasses, eyed Jaime’s bow. “You sure you don’t want to trade up? Got a few recurve models in the back.”
Jaime shook his head. “No thanks. This one… it’s got history.”
Huck let out a laugh. “He’s sentimental. Killed his first plague-beast with that thing. You couldn’t pry it from his hands with a crowbar.”
The shopkeeper shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He then gestured over to the stash of arrows tucked away in a pot in the corner, “If not a bow, then a set of arrows might interest you.”
They moved over to the set of arrows, which Jaime studied. Most were fine but a few seemed chipped, warped, or cheaply put together. He collected the few he thought were good and held them. Looking over at the wall he noticed a few specialized arrows hanging. The shopkeeper noticed his gaze and strolled over to make a sale.
“These,” the shopkeeper said, tapping the glass above a case of rune-inscribed arrows, “are enchanted. Most of ’em increase velocity, some explode on impact. Real fancy stuff.” Indeed they were unlike the rest of the arrows; these were finely made, intricate and perfect.
Jaime leaned closer, eyes wide. “These are incredible. Can I buy a set?”
The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed. “That depends. Can you read the runes?”
“…No.”
“Then no.”
Jaime blinked. “That’s it? Just,no?”
The shopkeeper folded his arms. “If you can’t read the inscriptions, you don’t know what you’re firing. You shoot the wrong one, you might explode yourself. I’ve seen it happen.”
Jaime stepped back, a little embarrassed.
Huck slung an arm over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. Rune stuff’s tricky. Most folks don’t bother unless they’re trained in it. I don’t even know it.”
Jaime nodded, and paid the shopkeeper and the two departed. Jaime turned and looked at Huck, “Hey Huck, was that guy…” he trailed off unsure of the word he was looking for.
“A crook?” Huck responded, to which Jaime nodded, “Well duh, most of his stuff is probably stolen or cheaply made. But the stolen stuff is good sometimes and most importantly cheap. So it’s best not to ask too many questions.”
They continued their way through the city streets. The Capitol still buzzed with life. “Alright,” Huck said, pointing up the hill to a weathered tavern with a crooked sign. “There’s your bed for the night. Same place I’m stayin’ and most likely Zane and Rose. It’s loud, the food’s greasy, and the walls are thin, but it’s cheap and it’s got beer.”
“Sounds like a dream,” Jaime said.
“Oh, you’ll love it,” Huck replied with a grin. “Now let’s get you a room and go meet the crew.”
The innkeeper handed over a creaky iron key and scribbled Jaime’s name into a dusty ledger, barely looking up. Jaime slipped the key into his pocket with a sigh, relieved to have a place to rest his head. The room assigned to him wasn’t much, just a cot, a chest, and a window but it beat sleeping in Kaeso’s and Tertius’ cart. His initial plan if he hadn’t been able to locate Huck today.
As they passed through the entry hall toward the tavern proper, a loud crash erupted from inside followed by a string of whoops and cheers. Huck paused mid-step, groaning as if he’d just received psychic damage.
“Oh, right,” he said, smacking his forehead. “I forgot to warn you about this part.”
“What part?”
“You remember how I told you Rose and Zane are cool?”
“Yeah…”
“Right, well. They are. Just… like, different types of cool.” Huck seemed nervous, “Well you don’t always have to be cool to be cool, ya know?”
Jaime nodded, “Uh huh.”
Huck seemed embarrassed especially at the sound of a man’s drunken shout of glory in the background. That seemed to get the tavern up in a stir. “They… well Zane can be a bit eccentric at times.”
They turned the corner into the tavern, and there it was: chaos, in the most tavern-y sense of the word.
A man that could only be Zane, the supposed legend, was up on a table, long black hair wild and swinging with each exaggerated movement. Shirtless, a stein in one hand and a hammer in the other, he bellowed along with the tavern band’s tune, stomping in time and nearly sending the food left on the table flying with every step. He was built like a statue, glowing slightly under the firelight, and despite being deep into whatever he was drinking, he still moved like a man who could tear through ten enemies before breakfast.
Jaime blinked. “Is… is that Zane?” staring at the asian man still going.
“Oh yeah,” Huck said, grinning. “That’s him in ‘party god’ mode. Don’t worry. He’s still deadly. Just, y’know… festive.”
Below him, trying very hard not to draw attention, was Rose. She stood with her arms crossed, her face red from secondhand embarrassment as she whispered harshly up at Zane.
“Grandpa, please. You’ve already been banned from three taverns. Don’t make it four!”
Zane leaned down, beaming. “But Rosie, the crowd loves me!”
“They’re cheering because you almost stepped on that guy’s pet hawk!”
“Then the hawk should’ve learned rhythm!”
The band hit a loud, off-key note as someone in the corner knocked over a chair, and Zane raised his hammer in a war cry. “TO SURVIVING THE FALL AND OUTDRINKING THE FUTURE!”
Jaime turned to Huck, wide-eyed. “So… she’s the responsible one?”
Huck chuckled. “Partner, she’s the glue that keeps us from exploding.”
Rose finally grabbed Zane’s arm and yanked, somehow managing to get him off the table with the kind of stern granddaughter energy that could bend gods to her will. He landed with a thud and a grin, wobbling slightly before catching himself with the grace of a man who had trained to be drunk and dangerous at the same time.
“Guess it’s time to introduce you,” Huck said, clapping Jaime on the shoulder. “C’mon, just smile, nod, and if Zane tries to hand you a drink, don’t sniff it first.”
Jaime took a breath and followed, stepping toward the two who would soon be his teammates.