Noa was really starting to feel on the receiving end of a poorly strategized pokemon game. “Flee” didn’t work. Instead, he was boggled by an entirely new attack:

Enemy STRANGER used CLOTHESLINE!

It’s super effective!

Probably because of his sneak level 100. Apparently a Sneak beats Runner, even if that didn’t quite add up in Noa’s brain, given that he assumed a Runner could outrun a Sneak, and yet, here he was, right back where he started, except face up, and with no grass. Or trees. Dazed was a kind word to explain how he felt, dizziness accompanying the reinflamed headache that hammered his head, pulsating with each beat of his heart.

Blue eyes stared back at him━the enemy stranger━hovering with a scrutinous gaze, and possessed by a brown haired fellow that would make Thor jealous of his luscious locks. And... were those ears pointy?

Oh dear heavens, I've died, haven't I? Noa thought. He shredded that idea immediately, deciding that this would be a lame afterlife━too lame to be true. The lameness was reinforced when the elf poked his cheek, as if the barrage he’d taken to his personal space via the apple-throwing she-monstrosity (with a solid chance to be a star pitcher) wasn’t enough.

Noa smacked the elf’s hand away and pushed himself upright, only to be firmly grabbed at the shoulders and hauled to his feet by the she-monstrosity, dashing any remaining hope for respect for his personal space. Even her grip on him was going to bruise, and a big part of him thought that trying to rip himself from her grasp would tear both his arms off.

“Ah, thank you, Eliaz,” the woman said, her burly companion huffing and puffing as he finally caught up while the other three workers returned to their jobs.

“Lady, I didn’t steal your apples,” Noa said, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Right, tell it to the constable.”

Constable? These guys are really going for the medieval vibe, Noa thought, then glanced back at the Elven Thor’s ears. Those things looked pretty damn real to him. Hmm, that was a mouthful. Elven Thor... Thor-elf? Thelf.

No, no, that just sounded like it could have been an insult... to Thor. Noa settled on Elvethor.

While Noa was distracted with Elvethor, She-monstrosity had made good headway with him down the street, the elf and brute on her heels. People going about their business on the mundane dirt streets stopped to stare, and he figured they’d probably have done so even if he didn’t have his escorts. Boxers and socks, that was what he was down to━far more skin than he was comfortable showing.

“Yana, think you can pause to let me heal him?” Elvethor asked.

A doctor. Oh joy. What if they took their doctoring as medieval as everything else around here? Noa shivered. The last thing he needed was to end up with leeches or some crap all over.

“Ask Constable Loic, Eliaz. I am not going to drop this rascal just to let you heal him, then lose the sucker because, Elorn forbid, he’s a runner, you know.”

“I think I’m good on the doctoring anyways, thanks,” Noa said.

“Doctoring?” Elvethor furrowed his brow. “I don’t do any doctoring, that’s for [Forgers] to deal with.”

Was this guy for real? Noa deadpanned the man, then hissed when She-monstrosity jerked him inside a building that smelled as rustic as it looked with a vague hint of cedarwood. The first room, while it held nothing more than a desk, felt cramped. A man with silvering hair and a questionable combover mustache sat behind the desk. He too wore a tunic, but with a red overcoat that bore a silver emblem of a three-pointed star.

“The thief that's been stealing my apples for the last two weeks, constable!” Noa stumbled forward as She-monstrosity shoved him, and barely caught hold of the desk.

Two weeks? Oh, no, no, no, he'd been mistaken for an actual thief!

“I didn't steal no apples, sir,” he said quickly.

The constable narrowed his eyes, leaned forward, and looked Noa up and down with a critical eye. Singular, as in he closed one. Noa cringed as the closed eye twitched in an unnerving way.

“I hear your double negative, kid,” he said, his voice sounding like it'd gone through a meat grinder. “Ain't foolin’ me! Practically confessed, he did!”

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Noa’s jaw dropped. Oh hell, he's senile, he thought.

“Aye! I told you he was the one stealing my apples!” Noa flinched as She-monstrosity jabbed his ribs. “Makes sense. He's all skin and bones.”

“Piss off!” Noa hissed at her. “All of you!” he yelled. “It was in your damn grove I woke up in. I wasn't here yesterday, and I don't even know where the hell here is!” A part of him was still waiting to wake up. Perhaps this was a bad trip from something he ingested, or maybe he was in a hospital somewhere after his bizarre haunting.

“Think you can heal his head too, Eliaz?” She-monstrosity said.

“Only the outside.”

“What a fine idea, Eliaz. You heal him while we discuss what to do with him,” the constable said, standing up. He grabbed a keyring off his belt, then moved to one of three doors in the room. Unlocking the nearest one, he opened it to reveal a cell. Noa thought that this space was cramped, but that cell was barely long enough to let someone lay down. At the back of it was a wooden slab shoved between the walls as the only piece of furniture, along with a bucket beneath it.

The constable looked at Elvethor. “Bang on the door when you're done. Meanwhile, Yana and I will discuss what to do with him,” he said.

Noa groaned. “Come on, man,” he said, motioning to the cell. “Nobody's gonna fit in that space. At least hear my side of the story.”

“Maybe later, kid,” the constable shoved Noa into the cell, and Elvethor quickly followed after. The door slammed shut, followed by a locking sound that made him grimace. Yeah, Noa was pretty sure “later” meant “never”.

Noa looked at Elvethor, and slowly backed away. “Don’t touch me, man,” he warned, putting his hands up against the elf, who approached until Noa was seated on the back bench, sore back pressed against bristled wood.

“I won’t have to touch you,” Elvethor said, and rolled his eyes. “You act like you’ve never had a healing before.” He came close, and stopped directly in front of Noa, palms hovering over his head. The air in front of Noa shimmered, and a gentle heat emanated in front of it.

The warmth moved, spreading across Noa’s form, and as it did, his head pain was soothed. Reaching a hand up, he touched his forehead, finding the bump there gone. No way, he thought. “How did you...?”

“I casted Lesser Mend. Now turn around so I can appraise your back,” Elvethor said, motioning with a finger.

“Hold up,” Noa started, holding up a finger. Magic. Hell, I’m in a place with magic, he realized, now considering how he could get his hands on this stuff, assuming all of this wasn’t just in his head. “Tell me how you did it.”

“You’re joking, right?” Elvethor raised an eyebrow.

“No, how did you do it?”

Elvethor sighed. “You should have at least mastered your base classes by now.”

“I was... deprived,” Noa said, scratching his head, dirt falling from his brown locks as he did. “Teach me, and I’ll let you heal my back.”

Elvethor frowned. “In most towns, healings are paid for, and I’m just giving you free services. You should be happy with that.”

“But you want ranks,” Noa pointed, a smile stretching on his lips.

“So I can level up and go to school.”

“And?”

“Ugh, fine,” Elvethor conceded, and Noa grinned. “But only because I’d have made the same bargain in your shoes.”

“You make it sound like you did once.”

“Shut up.” Elvethor narrowed his eyes. “How elementary are you to magic and spirits?”

“I’ve been haunted before,” Noa said, “does that count?”

Elvethor’s eyebrow twitched. “If you’ve been haunted, you have much bigger issues than Yana’s accusation of you.”

No kidding, Noa thought. Part of him was sure that the accursed lock he threw over his shoulder probably looked like an apple pit to anyone else, considering his recent experiences.

“Spirits create aether, but only a physical body can store it. Something with both a spirit and a physical form is referred to as a ‘soul’. That means you and I. We create and store a certain amount of aether everyday, usually dependent on a class level,” Elvethor explained.

So, essentially, mana, Noa thought. “How do I use my aether?”

“You first have to learn three skills: [Aether Sense], [Aether Designation], and [Aether Shaping]. Typically in that order. Do that, and you’ll gain the underclass [Aetherist], a prerequisite to any of the base classes,” Elvethor explained. “Now, turn around.”

“But you didn’t tell me how you healed me,” Noa argued.

Elvethor’s eyebrow twitch was in full force now, giving his irked expression a comedic twist. “Fine, I’ll teach you, but,” he enunciated, “you have to join my party and help me level when you get out of here.”

“If I get out of here.”

“Loic’s too cranky to hold prisoners for long.”

“Why would you want me in your party anyways?”

“Derhur, party bonus,” Elvethor said, as if that were obvious.

“Deal,” Noa said, then stood up, and turned around for Elvethor.

After a moment, the same warmth enveloped Noa’s back, and with it came relief.

Then the door to the cell opened. Noa turned, seeing She-monstrosity in the doorway. She pointed at him past the elf, and growled, “You’ll be paying off your debts... You’re coming to work for me, thief!”