by M E Robinson
Doreen was a squat, smiling woman with a generously sized midsection.
“An otherworlder?’ she inquired as Eric entered. “Been helping you lot all day. Great for business! I’ve got another man being fitted now in fact.”
At the back of the shop, a tall man with sharp features and a bored look was standing with his arms outstretched while a halfling shop assistant flitted around him with a footstool, taking his measurements.
Peering closer at Eric, Doreen wrinkled her nose, “Would you like to purchase some new clothes with your armour, dear? I’ve heard you otherworlders’ basic clothes can regenerate. But there’s no reason to be walking around looking like that. We’re not Seacove, but we’re civilized here in Tonbura you know.”
Looking down, Eric winced, somewhere between the militia barracks and here he’d managed to further damage his clothes. His shirt was now more of a crop top as the strips that had been covering his stomach had fallen to reveal a smooth, pale stomach. His pants also now had an even larger hole in the side, and the bottoms resembled streamers, trailing behind him dripping muck and blood on Doreen’s wooden floor.
With an embarrassed look, Eric nodded. “New clothes sounds great. Will it cost much extra?”
“Not as high as the cost to your dignity if you keep walking around like that,” Doreen sniffed.
Eric gave a feeble smile. It certainly wasn’t the most appealing look, even to someone as lacking in the fashion department as him. Informing Doreen that he would indeed purchase a new set of clothes, her face lit up in a huge smile, “That’s the spirit, deary! Here, come with me. I’ll getcha fitted.”
Grabbing Eric by the arm, Doreen whisked him to the side where she began to take his measurements, chattering on about the local gossip as she did so. Much of it seemed to concern the otherworlders’ arrival and the reactions of various neighbours to this event. By the time he was done being measured, Eric had learned the genealogy and interests of what felt like half the village, as well as who were the most interested in the otherworlders’ arrival and who were the the least happy. Unsurprisingly, Lucy Morningstar topped this list, Doreen echoing Alistair’s earlier thoughts on the mage’s view of otherworlders.
Finishing with the measurements, Doreen left to the back of the store to find a set of armour that would fit him. As she did, the other player took the opportunity to talk to Eric, the halfling still struggling to reach high enough to measure him.
“Hey,” said the man, “Nova Scotia?”
“Yup,” Eric replied.
“Right on, I’m not from around here. But I connected to Fate while on a business trip. My friends are all back in New York, so I need to hurry up and figure out how to get back. This place is too quaint. Luckily, I’ve got my assistant who I’ve been using as a tank. But he really isn’t all that good at gaming. Still, he’s better than the average level around here.”
Eric was strongly reminded of Jun as he listened.
“You seem pretty decent. Most of the other players I’ve seen don’t have enough to afford armour yet. You aiming for the championship?”
“Yup,” Eric replied again as Doreen returned and started fitting a leather chestpiece on him.
“Same. My friends and I will be participating in the World Championships as soon as they’re announced. I think it’s a crime that Hurricane still hasn’t announced the format of the competition. I think I might try and have them join me here. Players around here generally suck. Have you reached level five yet?”
“Yes,” said Eric, wishing he could find something a little more interesting to retort with.
“That’s good - the average level seems to be only around level three according to the forums, which is just bad if you ask me. And it’s even lower here. If you ask me-”
Fortunately for Eric, he did not need to ask the man as the halfling finally finished fitting the leather armour to his body. Looking at himself admiringly in the mirror, the man tossed a few coins on the counter.
“Well I’ll see you around I suppose,” said the tall man, the shop’s bell ringing as he left the shop.
With the man’s absence, Doreen began to chat once more. However, Eric now had a newfound appreciation for the idle chatter. He wasn’t particularly loyal or defensive towards his home, but hearing it slandered by an outsider left him with a rank feeling in his mouth.
Paying Doreen the six Sricks and forty-two Cirts she requested for the armour, Eric left the shop, now dressed in a much more stylish set of leather armour. The pants were a combination of leather and cloth which allowed for mobility, while the top was a leather vest of sorts that covered his torso and shoulders. All in all, it was a much better look than the torn and bloodied rags he’d been wearing before entering the shop, even if the cost left his wallet significantly emptier. Tossing the rags that had once been his first set of armour into his storage, he felt richer than the six or so Sricks left in his inventory indicated.
Checking the time, Eric decided it was probably a good time to log off. It wasn’t a great idea to test the limits of his parents’ patience on the first night of their deal. Raising his arm to the sky, he shouted, “Elegant Procrastination!” and watched as the world dissolved into motes of light. The scenery being replaced by the darkness of the FateGear helmet.
Setting the helmet aside, Eric set an alarm for early the next morning. If what the man had said was true, then he’d earned a significant lead for now. It wouldn’t do to lose that lead by sleeping in. Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep. His dreams full of wolves and rude mages.
Chapter 2
Slashing apart the wolf that leapt at him, Eric was suddenly awoken by the loud blaring of his watch. Groggily checking the time, he allowed himself to fall back into his pillow, groaning at the injustice that existed in a world where someone was forcing a teenager to wake up before noon, conveniently ignoring that he was the someone in this case. Throwing the blankets over his head, Eric attempted to get back to sleep until another alarm began to blare - this one from across the room. Glaring at the new alarm, Eric sighed. Why did he have to know his own weaknesses? He wondered, hauling himself out of bed still wrapped in the quilt. Silencing the alarm, Eric looked longingly at his bed, the pillow and remaining blankets inviting him to return to their loving embrace. With a yawn, he threw his comforter back on the pile of blankets, committing himself to waking up for the day.
Padding downstairs, Eric was greeted by the shocked face of his mother, a bowl of oatmeal held in one hand and a spoon that was frozen halfway between the bowl and her mouth.
“Am I still dreaming? Eric?” With an exaggerated movement, she swung her head towards the clock then back towards Eric. “It can’t be. There’s no way Eric’s up before 9am,” she told the cat conversationally. The cat ignored her, choosing instead to jump on top of the table and curl up in a patch of sunlight.
Ignoring the animal, his mother turned back to Eric, “So what are you doing up so early? Especially on a Saturday?”
“Gotta level up quickly. We need to make sure we’re prepared for the championship,” said Eric, grabbing a bagel and popping it in the toaster oven as he talked.
“Is that the last Montreal bagel?” she asked.
“Looks like it.”
“Go check the freezer and see if there’s any more. Angus won’t be happy if you ate his last bagel.”
Rolling his eyes, Eric padded over silently to the garage, checking the enormous deep freezer for bagels. Seeing a new bag, he grabbed it, rubbing his arms to ward off the chill as he re-entered the kitchen.
“So will this be a regular thing then? Seeing you in the morning?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it, but it’s possible,” Eric responded. Placing the new bag of bagels on the counter next to the toaster, watching as the elements heated up his bagel within. “Are you guys going anywhere today? I know Leif said he was going to hang out with his friends.”
“Your father has a meeting downtown later. I might go out fo
r a bite in the afternoon. Want to come?”
“Where would you be headed?”
His mother pondered for a moment. “Most likely Lunasole or Occo.”
“I’ll pass for today. It’s only the second day so it’s pretty important that I level with the guys,” said Eric guiltily.
His mother sighed disappointedly. “Alright. Well don’t say I didn’t ask.”
With a dinging sound, the toaster announced that Eric’s bagel was ready. Grabbing the cream cheese from the fridge, he applied it liberally, caking the bagel in delicious white goodness. Snagging the jar of jam from the counter, he applied a small layer over the cream cheese, creating a sweet, three layered treat that he bit into hungrily, a small blob of jam falling off and hitting the ground below.
“You’d better clean that up when you’re done,” said his mother, with a threatening tone of voice that warned him what would happen should he choose to ignore this advice.
“Yeah yeah, I will. No worries,” said Eric, grabbing the cloth from the sink and wiping the jam off the floor.
“Oh, there was some news about that game you’re playing. It was on the morning news, and your friend Mark called.”
“And you didn’t wake me up?” protested Eric, his mouth still full of bagel.
“I tried. You mumbled something about morning or stars and rolled over. I assumed you’d gotten the message.”
“I don’t remember this.”
“You can ask Angus - he was waking up when we got the call.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Maybe 7:30? Just over an hour-ish ago,” his mother responded.
Gulping down the rest of his bagel, Eric tore upstairs to check his messages with no interruptions. Sure enough, there was a missed call on his watch from Mark at 7:43. Another at 7:44, and a text message that told him they’d be meeting on Strife at 9:30.
Checking the time, Eric saw that it was only 9:14. That left him with just fifteen minutes to get as many of his chores done as possible before jumping on. If he could get all of them done, then he wouldn’t need to log off afterwards, he could just enter the game directly.
As a result, the next few minutes saw the Kingsley household hit by what his mother would later describe as a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon as Eric dashed around the house doing chores. Throwing the laundry in the laundry hamper. Clearing up the dishes. Wiping down the counter. Refilling the vicious cat’s water bowl - her food bowl was already full of chicken so he ignored that. As Eric finished the last chore, his watch read 9:29. Taking the stairs two at a time, he dashed back to his room, laying down and shoving the FateGear on his head. Flicking it on, he ignored the materialization sequence, directly shouting, “Strife start!” as he appeared on the couch.
Kyp has joined the room
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I got a look at a map and Tonbura village seems to be the midpoint between our locations.
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