by Pirateaba
Krshia smiled and nodded as Erin looked over her gift.
“It is carved well, and polished, yes? Much care has been taken so there will be no splinters while using.”
“And you can wash them.”
“Mm. That is helpful, yes? And this way, you need no one else to be happy.”
Erin stared at her gifts. She didn’t know what to say. She was literally speechless.
She looked up. The Drake and the Gnoll were still smiling at her, probably expecting her to say something about their well-chosen gifts.
Erin opened her mouth, smiled, hesitated, and then slammed the door shut. Krshia and Selys stared at the wooden door as they heard Erin bolt the door.
“Do you think she’s mad?”
Krshia shrugged.
“Mm. She is shy. But I will let you know if she uses the gifts. It will likely be today or tomorrow. It is not good to be stored up, yes?”
“I suppose so. But um, maybe don’t tell me. I don’t need to know/”
“As you wish. But it was a very good one you bought. Very real.”
“I know, right? There’s a great store that makes them. You have to ask because the shopkeeper obviously can’t put them on display, but they do all sizes.”
“Really? I shall have to visit this store for myself.”
Erin listened to Krshia and Selys talking from behind the door. It sounded like they were going to visit it right away. And Krshia said she’d know when Erin used—
Well, that made things simple. She couldn’t go into the city…well, ever now.
Erin covered her face in her hands. That was a mistake. The two replicas bumped into her face and she immediately lowered them. She stared at the two long, wooden, hard…she put them on a table and turned around.
Toren stared at Erin, dustrag in hand. She froze in place. His twin blue flames stared first at the wooden penii in her hand and then at her face.
Even though he was dead, the skeleton somehow managed to judge Erin with his eyes. Or maybe it was just her. Erin scowled. She threw one of the dildos and he dodged it.
“What are you looking at?”
2.14
There’s an art to it. Like all things, tact is essential. A smile is important, because your first impression is probably your last. Always remember to be courteous, professional, and efficient.
I can do that last bit. For the rest…I’m working on it.
“Delivery.”
The blue-haired girl who opens the door blinks at me. I blink back. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone with dyed hair. But, as I quickly see, it’s not exactly an intentional dye-job.
The [Alchemist] brushes a bit of the blue dust out of her hair and raises a small cloud. She coughs, and I step back.
“Are you Rikku?”
She nods, eyes streaming. I hold out my package, a heavily wrapped…potato. That’s growing. A green sprout is coming right out of the top. Oh, and the potato is bigger than a baby. Probably the size of about two babies if we’re using that as unit of measurement.
It’s heavy. And I feel like it’s still growing. The run out to this small cottage had me feeling like my backpack was moving the entire time. Gah. I regret this entire delivery, but at least it’s nearly over.
“Got a Seal?”
Maybe it was thinking of [Alchemists] that made me accept this particular request. It was a mistake either way. Turns out a lot of requests are often magical or perishable, or in this case—both.
The oddly-named Rikku disappears back inside her hut and I wait impatiently, hoping the potato won’t explode or eat my head off. I’m not sure what it’s for and honestly, I don’t want to know.
Still. Rikku. That’s an interesting name for someone around here. It sounds almost…Japanese. Something from my world.
Then again, there is a place named Wales around here, so I suppose people just choose the same names now and then. I still have yet to run into a Lenny or a George, though. Although I did meet this one guy named Adrian a while ago. That sounds almost normal.
But then, who am I to talk? My name’s Ryoka. That’s probably weird to a lot of Americans back home.
Anyways, potato. I want it out of my hands and into the hut before it does something weird. It was a rush delivery—lots of pay to move it as fast as possible. I can see why. Plant this thing in the ground and you might actually get a magic beanstalk in the morning.
At last, the door opens and Ms. Blue Hair emerges with an equally blue Runner’s Seal for me. What the hell happened in there? Do I want to know?
No.
“Here’s the package. Careful—it’s heavy.”
She takes it. She’s stronger than she looks, but I guess [Alchemists] have to be. I nod to her as she opens her mouth, probably to say thanks or something.
“See you.”
I’m running down the grassy hill and out the dirt road before she can even reply. Well, at least this time I said more than five words. It’s an improvement.
I don’t do well with people. I really don’t. It’s not even that I hate humanity in general. It’s just that I find conversations with strangers really, really awkward*.
*Yeah. Have you ever sat next to that silent person on the bus who just stares at you and then looks out the window the entire time? That’s me. It’s not that don’t I hate your guts – because I do, if you’re taking the seat next to me – but it’s just so awkward that I can’t deal. Seriously. Go away.
But being social is a skill I’ve got to learn here. Who would have thought? All those times my parents sent me to camp or cotillion, I’d get sent back or just disappear until they had to send out search parties and the police. And yet here I am, trying to be social.
The key word is trying. It’s really hard, okay? But I am trying.
I have to.
But hey, there is something to be said for brevity, right? As I power down the winding dirt road, I try to remember which delivery this is. Sixth one today? Or is it eighth?
It’s been a day since I pissed off Teriarch and got myself an eight hundred gold contract. You’d think that I’d be halfway towards the Blood Fields or wherever that magic stone is pointing me this time, but I’m still up north. Running deliveries for silver and copper coins.
I’ve got my reasons. First off, even if Teriarchs’ delivery is really important, he’s an arrogant jerk and he can wait. Second, I need to prepare.
The last time I went down to the Blood Fields I ran past Shield Spiders, a few other monster types, but nothing more. I got lucky. But there’s no telling how many bandits or what-have-you might be out where I’m going, so I need some equipment.
It’s been made…painfully clear to me that I don’t have the skills to take down anything above the ill-equipped bandit or Goblin raiding party. I’ve got Teriarch’s potion, true, but I’m regarding that as a measure of last resort, rather than my first option.
So I’m lingering here, mainly because I’m waiting for some of my new equipment to finish being created. Or brewed. Concocted? Whatever the correct phrase is, Octavia’s doing it for me.
Her stink potion worked wonders in the High Passes. It was so effective, I got out of there even though Teriarch had taken it away. All the monsters were still gone, and I made it safely back to Celum without issue.
Now, I’m not going to carry around a bottle of that nightmarish stuff unless I can be sure, absolutely sure it’s not going to leak. Even stoppered up that potion somehow still smells. Octavia’s working on a more secure container, but she’s also got a few more projects to focus on.
The cost of hiring an [Alchemist]? Eight gold coins, both for the testing and experimentation process and delivery of the finished items. That’s insanely expensive, but Octavia wasn’t even sure some of the things I wanted were possible. I’ll get a refund if she can’t complete some of the things I want, but I think she’ll manage it. And if that’s the case, it will be eight gold coins well spent.
My bare feet churn t
he pleasant, warm dirt path. It’s so wonderful I half-wish I didn’t have to get back to the Guild to turn my Seals in. This is one of the few spots the Frost Faeries haven’t yet swept over, and as such, it still looks like it’s in the last stages of fall.
Mm. What a weird world this is, where winter is a product of creatures, not weather patterns. But is it like this across the world? These Frost Faeries seem quite slow—not to mention inefficient. I almost wonder if winter isn’t so much a world-wide event so much as a rolling condition that sweeps across continents, possibly changing course at the whims of the faeries. That would be quite interesting.
But of course how would I prove my hypothesis? Books are sort of low on my priority list right now. I don’t have much time to read, and I need to save up as much gold as possible for more important things. The lack of libraries in this world is offensive*.
*Public libraries, that is. Any wealthy merchant or noble probably has their own library of books, but I don’t see them letting me in. Hell, back in my world I needed to put on sandals every time I wanted in to a library.
Information. It becomes clearer with every passing day that even if I’m discovering some more fundamentals of this world, there’s an entire lexicon’s worth of data I haven’t even considered yet.
So what to do? Erin knows less than I do about some things, but she knows several groups of people who might have a lot of information. That Gnoll named Krshia, Klbkch, possibly Pisces…the only question is whether talking to them is worth the risk of giving secrets away.
I could try and contact BlackMage, or another one of the users in my iPhone if I knew how the spell worked. Pisces was able to recover the messages however briefly—could I send a one-time text to one of them?
Maybe. It seems risky, especially since it’s been proven that the iPhones can be hacked by magic as well. And anyways, I don’t know what the situation is with them. People can say anything, but even if we’re all in another world, we’re all still human. Politics, greed, and prejudice didn’t disappear with our old world.
No, no. Right now I need to focus on the task at hand. Teriarch’s delivery is my highest priority. Eight hundred gold will help me, Erin, and Ceria immensely. Moreover, it’ll help me with my next task as well.
Because I have a goal now. It’s to become a Courier.
The logic is simple. A Courier is considered to be an important figure, even vital depending on how you look at it. There’s influence there, and respect. They’re pretty much the same as a Gold-rank adventurer, or even higher. If I attained that position, I’d be able to go across the continent and ask questions and take deliveries anywhere I wanted without raising suspicion.
Plus, Couriers get paid a lot more than even City Runners for their deliveries. If I could support myself that way Erin wouldn’t need to worry about her inn. It would let me save up, use the money to…
Well, the larger plan’s still hazy at the moment. But Erin was always right. If I look too far ahead, I’ll trip on the things right in front of me.
Speaking of which—I hop over a jagged rock in the road. That would have hurt. But barefoot runners learn to watch the ground constantly, so the odds of us ever stepping in something horrible are pretty remote.
Hm. The things we see and don’t see. Is there a way to find out where the other people from our world are? We all have iPhones, so we should be able to locate each other that way, right? How did the magic find us? Just saying it’s magic is kind of cheap. Did it home in on some aspect of our iPhones? Are they sending out signals somehow?
Oh no. The GPS!
I halt in my tracks and throw my backpack to the ground. Ryoka, you idiot. How did you not consider that? Your GPS is the first thing people would think of. They could have been tracking you all this time! Everywhere you’ve gone!
My iPhone glows and I urgently tap my way into the Settings app. Then I pause. My heart stops trying to overload in my chest.
It’s already turned off. Right. Of course. I remember I turned off the GPS in my iPhone the day I got it, so my parents couldn’t spy on me. A smart move, since that was pretty much the reason why they let me have it.
Okay, that’s a relief. I close out of the settings menu. Battery’s still good, too. 30% or thereabouts. I could listen to some music while I run, come to think of it. It’s been a lone time since I took out my iPhone, but I want to conserve the battery now that Sostrom’s…
“What’s that, Human?”
And just like that, my day goes straight down the toilet. The air around me freezes, and I look up. A Frost Faeries is hovering over my shoulder, staring down at my glowing phone’s screen with curiosity.
God. I thought Teriarch had chased them away. But no, apparently nearly being fried only grants me a day’s reprieve. I glare at the Frost Faeries and put my iPhone back in its worn case.
“Go. Away.”
The faerie just sneers at me. They never listen to what I say, or respond to my comments unless it’s because they want me to answer a question. She flutters around my iPhone until I tuck it away in my pocket. Then she shouts in my ear.
“Don’t ignore me! Tell us what that is! It is a thing of iron, but not. And it makes light without magic or fire! What is it?”
Another faerie flies lazily by my head. They don’t seem to need to flap their wings as much as a normal bird or insect. She points at my pocket, talking to her friend. The faeries always seem to travel in groups of at least eight or more.
“’Tis an object born of smog and flame, from another world! She brought it here, this foolish wench!”
That makes my head snap up. I stare at the faerie that’s spoken.
“Another world? What do you mean by that?”
She looks at me, and then away. They have no interest in answering any of my questions. But I desperately need answers. Just what did she mean by that? Does she mean what I think she does? If so—
The first faerie flies down and perches on my head, freezing the skin with her tiny feet. She bends down so her head appears upside-down in my vision.
“Smelly human! How does a mortal like you know the old smoker?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. And as much as it pains me, I’m curious, so I respond.
“What old smoker?”
The faeries exchange an incredulous glance as they hover around my head. They chatter to each other, staring at me and shaking their small heads as they do.
“Does she not know? She just talked to him!”
“I think she’s as daft as the other one.”
“Two heads and not a brain between them! How sad!”
“How funny!”
The fairy on my head leans down and slaps the skin on my head. I wince and grit my teeth. I really, really want to pluck the stupid faerie of my head, but the only thing that’ll do is give me frostbite. She’s giving me a headache just by standing there, but the faeries can get a lot colder if they want to.
“‘Tis the one of fire living in yon cave I speak of, you fool! The old grumpy one! How do you know of him, mortal and pathetic as you are?”
The one in the cave? They must mean Teriarch. But why would they call him…?
The fairy stamps on my forehead again and I wince. That’s it. They’re getting nothing out of me. I glare at the faerie and say nothing. If they can be rude jerks, so can I.
“Oh, ignoring us, eh? Well ignore this!”
Losing patience, the faerie on my head takes off. I know what’s coming and brace myself. A second later, a snowball catches me on the back of the head, making me stagger as I run. She laughs, and suddenly the entire herd decides that they want to join in.
The warm air and sunny skies turn cold and blustery, and snow begins to fall from the sky as the Frost Faeries work their magic, bringing winter to this last spot. The ground freezes under my feet, and all around me, snowballs the size of my fist pelt me from all sides as the faeries fly around me.
I run on, trying to ignore the cold s
now as it strikes my face, my chest, my back, and my legs. I know they’ll stop. The faeries act just like bullies. They get bored if you don’t respond. They’ll stop throwing snow any second now.
Any…second…now…
—-
Ten miles down the road, I stop and drop my pack so I can pull out my snow shoes and a fresh change of clothes. Not to change with; just to wipe all the snow and ice off my body.
The last of the Frost Faeries flies off, laughing, and I silently curse them as I shiver. I’m drenched, and nearly hypothermic from the pounding they just gave me.
Who knew tiny faeries could throw snowballs so damn hard? But they’re gone—at least until they get bored and come back to torment me some more.
“God damn it.”
I never thought I’d hate anything as much as I did faeries. Seriously. They’re worse than dogs that aren’t on leashes or broken bottles on the road. I’d rather run barefoot through a forest full of pine trees than have one of those faeries following me.
And why the hell do they bother only me? It’s like they enjoy making my life a misery more than anyone else’s. Isn’t there some way I can get rid of them? They don’t like iron, but it doesn’t seem to work nearly as well as the old stories say. Half the time I see some poor fellow raising an iron horseshoe at the fairies only to get blasted off his feet by a gust of wind.
And what was that they were saying? It was something about Teriarch. They wanted to know why I knew him? Do they know of him? He was able to chase them off, which is pretty unique.
Old smoker. Why would they call him…?
…No. No, that’s not right. It can’t be. I mean, that would be obvious. I would have noticed that instantly.
Wouldn’t I?
Teriarch is just a mage. A mage who looks suspiciously Elven, and he doesn’t do anything to hide that. And he uses weird expressions…and he has a cave…