Fae and Fare (The Wandering Inn, #2)

by Pirateaba

What in the name of non-existent deities far and wide was that? I— Everything has changed. I feel it. This world is different now, and the stakes have suddenly gotten a lot higher than my single life. Someone has walked into the small sandcastle of my understanding of the world and given it a damn good kick.

“Okay, I didn’t call him all those names. Just bull guy. But it made him really mad. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears!” I shouldn’t, but I laugh. Calruz is dead, and it’s wrong to make fun of him. But this— This is about what he was. What he did. And Erin telling me the stories is somehow special. Precious.

Statistics. It all boiled down to percentages. There weren’t just sixteen people in this world. There weren’t even just a hundred. There were many more. How many people had working iPhones at the time of the call? How many had their iPhones when they arrived? What percentage of people have iPhones to begin with? And of that number, how many people died or weren’t able to answer the call? How many ignored it out of fear or caution? How many people were in this world?

And peace for humans is only an interlude till the next war.

One person was an accident, a fluke. Two people was unusual. But more? More was an open gateway. And no door opened in only one direction.

“In the future, have the brewers reduce both alcohol content and soporific and paralytic agents in the drink. As I understand it, the act of drinking is meant to be pleasurable. Unconsciousness is the end result, not the goal.”

I should be making declaratives and speaking confidently. That’s what good old dad taught me. Look people in the eye, speak clearly, and lie through your teeth when you have to.

“You wanna fight? Huh?” The Goblins looked at their leader, still noisily being sick in the grass. They looked back at the Destroyer, Slayer of the Skin Monster, Provider of Pasta and Free Drinks. They backed up quickly.

“Well, are we going to be silent the entire time? I bet that’d be scarier than talking.” “Rest assured that I remain petrified no matter how we choose to spend the journey.

And the thing is, everything screams when it dies.” She looked at Ryoka. There was a hollowness in Erin’s gaze. A cold void.

And suddenly, talking was something Ryoka wanted to do more and more with Erin. She had depths. Not like an onion or a cake or parfait or something stupid like that. She had depths like a puddle you stepped into which turned out to be as deep as an ocean.

Why’d you decide not to get a class? I imagine you would have gotten one, what with running around all the time and all.” “Yeah. I had the opportunity, but I refused. I didn’t think it was a good idea.” Erin looked at Ryoka curiously. “Why not?” The other girl shrugged. “This system – leveling, and gaining Skills seems too much like a game.” “Yeah, it does. But why not play the game? I mean, without my class I would have died several times over. So what’s wrong with playing?” “If we’re in a game, then there are rules. And someone who made the game. The question is: who? And what’s the way to win?” “Not die, I guess.” “Maybe.”

“Anyways, my point is that something bad is going to happen. Some evil monster’s going to jump out.” That was ridiculous paranoia, and Ryoka almost said so. That sort of thing never happened in their world except by complete coincidence, and it wouldn’t happen here. …Unless of course this world worked off of the same rules fantasy books and Hollywood movies were made of. If that was the case, they were all dead. “And if that were the case, everyone would have plot armor.”

But maybe they weren’t the main characters. If this were a story, it would be Erin and Ryoka and all of the people who came to this world who were the main characters. That was right. Somewhere, out there, a scrawny white boy would appear out of nowhere and be crowned the chosen one. He’d probably get the [Hero] class, a magic sword, and a scar just to be on the safe side. Add in a female lead and a plucky side-character and you had a series. More thinking like this and she’d go crazy.

Erin was the last to recover her eyesight, but when she did, she treated the armed guardsmen as if they weren’t dangerous. Ryoka’s first thought was that Erin had clearly never been arrested before or hassled by any kind of law enforcement. Although of course in Ryoka’s case the hassling and suspicion was quite justified given some of the things she’d done. Blowing up a chemistry classroom tends to get you put on a list for the rest of your life.

“Putting geography aside, there are a number of powerful nations and species here. There’s no one superpower, or even a few here. Distance and the size of this planet are what stops any one group from becoming too powerful.” “Right, right. You said this world is bigger than ours, right?” “Possibly as much as three times bigger. It’s so large, apparently the sun is supposed to revolve around the earth.”

One problem among many. Where did you start? When the house was burning down, the first step was probably to get out of the fire. But where did you start when the entire world was raining fire from the sky?

It was hard to see any meaning in the napkin sitting next to the chess pieces, but now she remembered the names of each of the continents: Baleros, the mysterious continent of jungles and Gazers. The Blighted Kingdoms of Rhir, the dying lands locked in eternal conflict. A kingdom of knights and royalty and damn humans. Terandria. Chandrar, home to the King of Destruction and a desert larger than the entire United States of America. And of course, home, or at least the place where she and Erin were stuck. The continent of Drakes and Gnolls and a few humans. Issrysil. That’s what the Drakes called it, but Izril was the only thing Ryoka was willing to pronounce.

Ryoka tried to kick her brain on track. But she couldn’t. Her mind would much rather think about why continents were named oddly than focus on reality. Because reality was a bit too hard.

“What, you’re leaving? Just like that?” Ryoka stared at Erin, nonplussed. “Of course. Time is money.” “Yeah, but time is also time. Which is a lot more valuable than money. Sometimes.”

“She laughs like an evil thing, doesn’t she?” “’Tis the sound of a coven of witches and Hekate herself!” I don’t have an evil laugh.

Sometime yesterday, while she’d been talking to Ryoka, she’d told Toren to clear away the snow outside of the inn. She hadn’t really meant for him to do it. It was just something to keep him occupied. He’d helped dig Erin and Pisces out of the inn and cleared it out, and then Erin had been too busy hiding in her inn and trying to get warm to remember him for the rest of the night. So he’d been outside the entire time, shovelling snow. And somehow, over the course of that, he’d created this. A wall of snow that handily blocked the wind and also trapped Erin inside of her inn. By himself. That was the thing. Tell a human to do something and they might do it, but they’d eventually get bored, or failing that, fall down dead at some point. But skeletons didn’t get bored. Or if they did, they kept it to themselves. Erin had told Toren to clear away the snow around her inn. And he’d done that. All night long.

“What level are you?” “Just Level 2. But I was wondering why I got the class now. I mean, I’ve fought a lot of things before. Why did I get it for going into the ruins?” Selys frowned and thought. “This is the first time you went looking for a fight, wasn’t it? I mean, you went exploring before, but you never really went out knowing you were going to kill something.” “That’s the difference?” “It’s all about purpose. I mean, I cook food for myself but I still haven’t gotten the [Cook] class. But if I tried to make that my hobby or job, I’d probably get the class right away.”

“Hm. Ah, oh. Let’s see. Uh, that’s right. You were…I suppose I must use you in less-optimal tasks. Well then. Hear and know your purpose: you are to guard and serve the individual known as Erin Solstice. Protect her. Obey her words.” The words had struck Toren like thunder and lighting, echoing around in his soul. They etched themselves into the core of his very being, words that would never fade. The first and last command. Even now, as Toren shoveled wet, hard snow away from his wall he remembered. “Protect Erin Solstice. Obey her. Be used in less-optimal tasks.” They were the words that shaped his existence. One of the three things he remembered. After that Pisces had gone back to the laughing and talking to himself. Toren forgot most of the rest. At some point the mage had come back and spoken at length. He’d used many complex words. Word like ‘render unto me total obedience’ and ‘forsoever work to advance the cause of my designs’, and so on. But that was after the words of binding, the words of creation. So they didn’t count.

Toren stood up. He shook. The voice still called to him from the south, full of power, echoing in the very fabric of his being. But it was a weak thing. Quiet. It couldn’t control him. Only Toren could control himself.

But she was growing older. That was something neither he nor she could escape. In time, she would die. Not now—not for many years still. Decades, perhaps. But she would die, and he would remain. Unchanging. It was his nature, and Teriarch felt it weigh more heavily whenever he found someone like Magnolia. A rare mortal with a spark. It was their nature. They brought light and passion to his life, but like sparks and fireflies, they died all too quickly.

Magic could do many things, but it was only a means to an end, not an excuse for miracles.

And my abode is not a ‘cave’.” “Your little hovel, then. Your crack in the side of the mountain. Your little pit where you hoard shiny objects and hide from the world.

Teriarch ground his teeth together angrily. But Reinhart had a point. She always had a point. It was just that he disliked how her pointing things out tended to make it seem as if he was incompetent.

Let’s see. Now that you’re really thinking over your life choices Ryoka, does it make sense to bother a possibly Elven mage of incredible power who gave you a task that you did not carry out? Yes? Well then, go right ahead. This has been a message from your brain.

I’m here, and victory belongs to the bold. Also, bullets in the head belong to the bold, usually instead of victory, but I’ve got to do this.

“If mages could use up all their magic in a single spell we’d be even more dangerous than we are. Imagine an army of mages that could devastate an army in a moment. No; spells are a lot more complex than that.” “How so?” Erin had resigned herself to never being a mage, but she was intensely curious about magic all the same. Ceria explained. It seemed to be easier for her to lecture than think about anything else. “There’s a limit to how much mana we can infuse into a spell. Think of a spell as a…container. The good ones can hold a lot of magic and require a lot to activate. But a bad spell can’t handle that much magic. You can overcharge any spell in theory if you have enough magic, but too much and…” She gestured to her hand.

She knew these trees. They were death. In fairness, Goblins classified almost half of the world as ‘death’, but they had a far more nuanced view of death than other species. Their species had over twenty words for death, and that meant they could define death in an almost unlimited number of ways. Goblins pessimistically defined death as a probability, or perhaps an inevitability depending on how you looked at it. For instance, a lone human traveler was only ‘possible death’ for a group of Goblins, and if a tribe was nearby the unfortunate human was only ‘death for one or two’. By contrast, the Rock Crab had been ‘near certain death’ for the individual Goblin or small party, but only ‘many deaths’ for a tribe. But the trees here, this forest, was absolute death. Goblins avoided the area, having learned the exact range of the explosive bark from trial and error, as it were.

Yes, that was it. They’d risked everything. And that, surprisingly, was rare for Goblins. As a general rule, Goblins did not pick fights that were even remotely risky. That was tough since everything was stronger than Goblins, but they always attacked with overwhelming numbers, and by surprise if they could help it. Maybe that was why Goblins didn’t level much. And Rags—she’d leveled because when she played chess she always did her best. And when she learned magic, she worked as hard as she could to listen and learn from the smelly mage Pisces. And fighting— She’d killed all the Goblins who’d wanted to be Chief themselves. She’d led her tribe against many monsters already, always from the front. She was brave and she risked her life. That was why. That was the key. That was what Rags needed to leverage if she wanted to survive.

Cowards. That was what the Drake had said. It burned Rags just to remember. But what hurt most was that she couldn’t dismiss it. It was true. Goblins were cowards. Maybe that was why they were so weak. Maybe…it was that Rags had to change. The nature of what it meant to be a Goblin.

But being a Chief was more than just about leadership. It was also something that connected all Goblins. There was power in it, just as there was power in [Shamans]. Goblins gave their Chiefs and Shamans their abilities. In a [Shaman]’s case, the more Goblins that were in the tribe, the more power their spells had. But a Chief took something different from their Goblins. They took memory. It was something every Chief could do. They could remember things that had happened to their tribe, things that had happened years or even centuries in the past. This could be extremely valuable, as Goblins remembered strategy or good places to hunt or hide. But it only worked with enough Goblins.

She wanted to live. So she would dance with death until she did.

“Many things are different. Pleasurably so, but it is good to be warned. If you would mate, you should be ready. I can describe them for you, if you wish.” Erin still had yet to touch her meal, but she picked up her drink and took a hefty swallow. It was one of the mildly alcoholic beverages on offer and right now she was wishing there was more alcohol in it.

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.

Erin was always right. If I look too far ahead, I’ll trip on the things right in front of me.

She was a Queen, and he was not. In theory, that meant that he would obey her every whim. But theory is a poor substitute for reality, and the Antinium had long ago learned that a single entity could not be trusted to make the best choice every time.

Erin wasn’t too sure on the exact details, but the ancient ruins were apparently a big find, and everyone was excited and terrified. Excited, because you might find the one ring of power in the ruins. Terrified, because Sauron himself might be down there, ready to poke your eye out.

Erin sat back in her chair and laughed in delight. And that sound was pure and made him realize that she was happy. Happy to have won. But happier to have played. “Come on. Another game?”

“‘Tis only a dreaming thing. The true King still sits on the battlefield, dying of her wounds. The King has sailed away. The King walks among you. He has risen—he never was. Only your dreams may make the truth of it.” Erin understood this even less. But the dreaming self in her knew exactly what to say. “So he’s only a story?” “A story made flesh. In this world, and others. How many times will you mortals tell it? Ah, but they are all worthy in their small way. But he is not here for you to wake. Not in dreams, anyways.”

“I do not suffer your questions, mortal. Go ask a rock if you have so many useless things that need speaking.”

The fey answer to no one, mortal! We speak and bestow our gifts as we please, and none may command us! No god, no king, no lord or master. Have ye not heard the words? The fey obey no one, and we bow to none either. So what if we offended your honor? We do as we please.

“Magic? Why ask when you should already know? The fools who call themselves mages in this world talk of magic as if it is something had by few. But you have tasted of it; how else would the bag of bones move except not for you?” Erin’s heart began to beat faster. She tried to quell the excitement in her chest. “But that’s not magic, is it? That’s just a bit in me; not enough to do any spells.” “Spells? Pah. Are ye an old man walking back through time, to be concerned with such things? Who needs spells? Is magic so petty to be all sparkles and muttered words?” The faerie laughed, and the tinkling sound lifted Erin’s heart. Slowly, the faerie flew towards Erin, and pointed towards the door. She cast no spell, uttered no sound, but the door opened as wind blew from the inside. The faerie grinned at Erin. “Magic is.”

“What about the Mad Ones? They’re staying in…Averach? They would surely send a delegation if asked. No other ruler puts up with them as our lord does.” “Mad Ones? Who are they?” Surprisingly, it was Teresa who asked that question. Orthenon nodded. “[Alchemists], mainly. But also a new class—[Engineer]. They’re a group of walking disasters that create wondrous inventions and chaos. Having one of them in your city practically guarantees destruction and loss of life, but under our lord they worked to create miracles for us.”

She didn’t have to say it. She could still swallow the words, give up, walk away. For one moment, Erin stood on the abyss, waiting. The world held its breath and Erin savored the feeling of infinity. But then she spoke. “But.” It was the word upon which all things changed. Erin stared towards the sky, and spoke louder, speaking to the world and those listening.

A hero isn’t someone who’s brave or courageous. A hero doesn’t slay monsters or rescue princesses (or princes). If you look up the word ‘hero’ in a dictionary, you get a different answer. A hero is someone admired or idealized. A hero is a person others look up to. A [Hero] is only a hero if other people think he’s a hero.