"Elyanna ehet la-"
"Fuck off, knife-ears. Don't want your trash."
The man shoved the woman selling him leaphas, a kind of cloak woven from wild reeds. He cast a disdainful glance at the woman on the ground as he strode forward through the uncaring crowd.
"Lewis! What's wrong with you?!"
"Fuck off, Sam! I'm not in the mood to fuck around with those forest gipsies you like so much!"
The man glared at his companion, a girl from Upstate New York dressed in a ridiculous outfit.
She looked like a Gundam. Her scrawny frame wasn't meant for the white, comically huge, heavy, and bulky armor that she wore. Her head was tiny compared to it. It made her look like a fucking turtle peeking its tiny, little head out of its goddamn shell and her freckles, buck teeth, and braces didn't help either. He was 185 cm, but the armor she wore made her stand at around 200 cm. And with an arm thicker than his waist, he knew that a punch from the "Paladin of Iron" would knock the sense out of him. He groaned as the ground shook her heavy steps towards him. She leaned on her lantern mace as she bent to the ground to help up the dirty Low-Elf.
"Are you alright miss?"
She extended a large, metal hand at the Low-Elf. Despite the coldness of the metal that made up the bulky gauntlet, it looked and felt warm.
"I-I'm alright... Elyanna aenet ino, Paladin."
"Elianna nehta onou to you."
She butchered the greeting, but she got her message across. The Low-Elf took her hand as the soft-hearted Paladin helped her up from the ground and even picked up the dozen or so leaphas she dropped from the basket on her back.
The Low-Elf quickly ran off, away from the eyes of the crowd that now gathered around them. He cursed softly under his breath and stormed off. He clutched his pocket. Tight. The thing inside was valuable, far more than the gold he carried in his other pocket. For there was now only one of it in the entire world. There were alternatives, sure, but they didn't taste quite right to him. His finger twitched at the slight tug of his mantle and he whirled his head around while his free hand clutched the shortsword at his side. Sam stood behind him, a sad expression in her bright, hazel eyes as she looked straight into his own dim and hazy amber orbs.
"You didn't have to do that, you know?"
"..."
He clicked his tongue and sighed.
Seven. Seven long months. The two of them awoke in this world seven months ago after they met that strange girl who called herself a "God" of this world. He was robbed of his gold, beaten and stripped of his dignity by bandits, and nearly died to an Orc during the first month. She had it easier than him since she awoke in a nearby village. Still, adjusting was hard. Still is for him, but Sam had done well in fitting into this world, just like a duck to water. And it was thanks to the Guild and the Emperor that they just met earlier this week. His head hung from his shoulders as he continued to forward towards one of his favorite places in this world aside from the many brothels. A goldmine of information and booze. He smiled as he thought of what kind of local drink he'd taste in the fabled "Eternal City" of Illyrica.
"This is the best you have?"
"If you don't like it, get your ass out of that chair and haul it out of my tavern."
Lewis stared at the tall mug brimming with foam and full of lager. Cheap lager. Cheap but sold at exorbitant prices.
"Fine. Sam, you're gonna drink that or not?"
"I don't drink bee-"
"You're already 19 and you still don't drink? Fuck off and give me that."
Some of the cheap piss water spilt on the bar as he took Sam's cup from her hand.
"Barkeep. Do you something for kids for my companion?"
"Tea? Maybe?"
The man with a handlebar groaned as he took a kettle from underneath the bar.
"Supposed to be for me, but here. Lemon and Befea Leaf tea with honey. Helps with the gut, or so my missus says."
"Thank you!"
The barkeep couldn't help but smile back at Sam's infectious smile.
He drank his beer quietly, in the middle of the day no less, while he snacked on some roasted nuts and fried beans. The loud tavern was filled with Guardsmen and Watchmen. There were even a few Soldiers and Mercenaries mixed in as well. His face twinged. Even the booze in this world was shit. Piss water, shittier than the shit his friends buy from the convenience store. Still, it was cheap and he didn't have a lot of cash on him since quests don't pay much the closer you approach the main cities of the Empire. The barkeep picked up a seemingly clean glass and began to wipe it with a clean cloth while he gnashed some nuts between his teeth.
A chair being dragged back made the two of them pause. While Sam didn't notice it, the man the Emperor told them to meet at this tavern had finally arrived. There were many ways to dress if you want to not be seen or noticed in a crowd, but he was the only person he'd met in this world that did it right. When he met with Brokers or Informants, they'd turn up in an alley in a cloak, a hood, or black coats and clothes. Conspicuous and stupid. That kind of clothes made them look shady and drew too much attention to them when moving in a large crowd. But the man beside him did it right. He didn't turn up in some silly costume that screamed "Assassin" or "I'm a criminal!" or twitched around like some junkie in an alley.
With a simple shirt of chainmail, thick pants with steel kneepads and greaves and a standard shortsword by his side, the man would pass as a regular Mercenary. But look closely and one will notice the subtle difference. The leather pauldron on his shoulder is made out of Wyvern leather from a Wyvern's wing. His simple gloves were made of Steelsilk from Ironthread Spiders. He was no Merc. The barkeep clearly didn't know who he was dealing with since he treated him like the rest of the people in the tavern, including him and Sam. But the man remained calm, cool even as he acted the role of a Soldier on his day off. But he already knew he was faking it since the man had already subtly flashed the sign that he was the man they were looking for with a simple wave of his hand.
A tattoo of a sigil with a Dragon holding a shield on his wrist.
"He sends his regards."
The man said softly.
"The Emp-"
"He told me you need a job? I need guys like you up in Gralitiea."
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The man cut him off as the barkeep served him a shot of hard liquor. He waved and thanked the barkeep before downing the black liquor.
"What's the job?"
"Watch duty. Occasional patrols in the forests there, Goblin extermination, and a few Cyclop and Troll raids that need to be dealt with from time to time."
"And the other job?"
The man paused. Then, slowly, smiled at him.
"There's a tribe there, not small but not big either, causing a ruckus to the farmers there. Now, he says that there might be a famine in the coming year so he doesn't any of the Empire's harvests being wasted. Catch my drift, ese?"
He nodded as the words of the Emperor rang in his mind.
Richard Alonso Perez. Came to this world five years ago after "dying" in a shootout in his brother's home after a drug bust. Looks like a bad guy, acts like a bad guy, but someone the Emperor could trust with keeping the calm in the frontiers. He looks Latino, even has the accent of one who spent most of their time with their own. He didn't like him. His gut told him the guy was suspicious, but he was obviously smart. Smarter than he took him for. But he was still a Hispanic man who obviously has a background in crime. His black hair was streaked with tufts of white hair and his face was covered with stubble that was kept unkempt. It gave him that look of someone being from the streets.
"By the way, if you do want to come with, I'll have to introduce you to the others. My hom- friends don't like it when the dynamic suddenly changes."
"..."
He finished the first beer in silence as he contemplated the job. By now, Sam noticed the stranger as he stared at the two of them.
"Do you know him, Lewis?"
"Never met him."
"Sorry, saw that the spot was open so I sat down."
Richard spoke with a surprisingly "normal" accent that was devoid of any hints that he was a Latino.
"Err... If you don't mind me asking, are you a Soldier?"
"Enforcer. My Class is an Enforcer. A kind of Guardsman. I'm stationed up north but my commanding officer sent me to the capital to find recruits."
"Whoa!"
Richard laughed with pride as he scratched the back of his head.
"What's the north like?"
"At this time of the year? Cold. Way colder than here but not as cold as further up north. And the monsters there are pretty tough, so tough that the Empire has to send some Soldiers up there to come and help poor Enforcers like me."
Sam nodded as she hung onto Richard's words.
"Anyway, I already had my drink so sorry if I disturbed you and your companion here. I'll be going."
"Oh, but you weren't-"
"Adios to you."
He cut off Sam as Richard stood up from the stool and smiled at him. As he passed, he whispered.
"Go out of the Western Gate tomorrow if you're up to it, hombre. And you can call me Ricko."
The man smiled at Sam as he made his way towards the door and out of the tavern. He scoffed, then continued drinking the shit beer he bought.
----------------------------------------
He stood before the gates to the Grand Church of Illyria. The walls that stretched around the most sacred of grounds to the Goddess' followers measured a hundred or so hectares. There were three prominent buildings within the religious district. The most prominent was the Grand Church of Illyria, a behemoth of a structure that dwarfed the White House and home to the remains of all the Champions and Heroes of the Empire. The plaza in front of it has a fountain and a monument to the Three, the Heroes that saved the Empire in its darkest day. Or so the map in their hand says. It was still really strange to find a Cleric handing out maps to pilgrims and tourists who want to visit the sacred grounds of their religion but a map with highlighted places to visit is still a good thing to have.
"I want to see the Cathedral of Viegmar! Oh! Or maybe the Basilica of the Seven Saints! Maybe the Haltsven Chapel?"
"Nope. We're here to visit the Archpriest in charge of the Holy Armory."
Lewis said flatly as he paid a few copper coins as a donation to one of the Clerics.
"We also need to visit the Palace of the Prophet to ask the Pope for his blessings. Pretty fucking weird, if you ask me. Sam, do you- Sam? Sam!"
The Paladin walked towards the large plaza with the giant statue in the middle of it all.
"You have your phone, right? Take a pictu-"
"Fucking hell, Sam. We need to fucking finish the-"
"Just take my picture!"
Sam shoved her phone into his hands while he blinked and grumbled at her.
She raised two "peace" signs with her massive gauntlets as she stood beneath Lucius Geta, the Unbreakable Soldier. He was forever captured in a stiff, stoic, and silent pose as his right arm slightly pointed the tip of his spear to the east while his head looked west towards his companions. He glanced at Ludwig Weber the Architect. The all too familiar uniform sported the iconic symbol of tyranny on the statue's armband. He held a torch in one hand and a sword in the other with a smile on his face as he faced towards the north and at the most prominent statue among the three that stood over the large fountain built atop a natural spring. Sam smiled as she struck another pose beneath the final figure.
A veil covered most of her head, but the sculptor did his best in creating a statue of sheer beauty. The pristine marble shone in the sun and he could clearly see the genius of the hand that made this piece of art. There were freckles on her face. Subtle touches and details made her lips look soft and life-like and her skin smooth and warm. Her jacket and shirt looked real, with creases masterfully carved to make it seem like real fabric. He could even see the tightness of the muscles in her arm as she held the original banner she used to rally the tribes and people that would soon become the first citizens of the Empire. Marian D. Cooper, the Banner Bearer of the Goddess. All three of them stood in the center of the plaza, forever immortalized and forever alive in the hearts of all who see them.
And all three of them came from their world.
"You don't want to take a picture with the Nazi statue?"
"What?! No way!"
Sam took the phone from his hand as he handed it to her. He grinned and cocked his head back.
"People toss a coin to the guy you know. They look up to him."
"Yeah, well, they don't know better. But the place sure looks much more beautiful than the Vatican. Or at least, the pictures I've seen of it from the internet."
"Yeah, well, I still find it strange that they used positions and words from our world for their religion. But at least I know that it's because of the other people that came here before."
He said as he glanced at the blatant Classical Roman architecture of most of the buildings here.
It should be familiar things to him. But the pillars of many of the buildings around them still made him feel out of place. The Grand Church's domes looked like the Pantheon's dome except scaled up by eighty at most. And the damn church had four smaller ones. The famous cathedral near them was twice the size of Notre Dame and had spires so high it made his neck hurt. Yes, it was grand. The most beautiful place he had ever been to in fact, but it made him feel small. To him, there was a thing as "too grand". And he saw it not as a tourist like Sam did, but as an imitation—a beautiful and better one compared to the places they imitated—of their world. Their home. The place that the two of them have been trying to find a way to get back to.
Truth be told, he wanted to go back so bad. He hated the strange people here. Dwarves, Elves, and Beastmen made him feel like an alien. A literal one. He didn't belong in this world, and he didn't want to. He wanted to go back to his apartment in Brooklyn and have a smoke by the window while he talked to the cute chick in the room beside him. Jana? Jill? He forgot her name, but it was something with a "J" but not "Jane". He wanted to hear her talk about her tattoos and piercings while they shared a pack of smokes together. Her lip ring was pretty hot, but he never really had the chance to say it to her. The heart tattoo on her shoulder gave him fantasies about it where he would kiss her on that spot before slowly crawling his way up her neck and towards her ear. The only thing he didn't like about her was that she had a Mexican for a boyfriend.
He bit his lip and clutched his pocket tighter. The urge to pull it out made him sweat despite the cold but he had ways to fight it. He slowly counted up to seven as he did his best to make sure Sam didn't notice him. He trembled with each number, but he slowly calmed down. Slowly. While he watched Sam ask a passing Nun the sights of the place, he slowly made his way towards the fountain to take a sit by the edge and relax. He took a deep breath. Then released. He stood up and looked around at the buildings around them and tried to pick which one had the most modern design and settled for the bakery that sold bread for cheap since it didn't look like Classical Roman architecture but more of a block of marble with windows and a shop that juts out of its front. He smiled and stood up with a slight stagger.
"Hey Sam! Get your ass over here and let's go buy some bread!"
"I thought you hated the bread here?"
He smiled as he pulled out his small pouch of coins.
"Still do. But I'm feeling hungry so let's go buy some over there."
He laughed as he walked away from the suspicious Paladin.
It's true he hated the bread in this world. But not because they taste saltier or that they're more savoury than sweet. He hated the bread here because they rarely have sugar. He shook his head softly. It's a petty thing, but that's one of the reasons he never really enjoyed it here. Aside from the Low-Elves that beg and steal in the streets, the Dwarves that swindle him at every chance they get, and the dirty looks the Beastmen slaves gave him whenever he scoffed at their dirty appearances, he hated the taste of bread in this world since there's little to no sugar to them. A petty thing he wants to solve one day. But until then,
"A loaf, please. Oh, throw in some of the cheese over there as well.
He'd have to get used to most of it.