I stared down at the prone figure in front of me. This was not how things were supposed to turn out. What did I expect? I wasn’t totally sure, but this was not it. Since appearing in this world, everything I touch seems to go pear-shaped in some way, usually revealing more about myself, which so far has been a good thing. And I am sure Odel was as surprised as I was, although being unconscious put a damper on it for him.

Now, what happened? Well, the adventuring group Wandering Wolves, who invited me to go and clean up some haunted ruins, needed to know whether I had any martial skills, which I totally understood. This was all about whether this would be an escort quest, which no one likes, or if I could carry my own weight.

Back in the ‘world,’ like most people, I had no real experience wielding medieval weapons. Knives other than cutting meat were as alien to me as a war hammer. Sure, I had seen plenty of them and knew their history from the videos, movies, and research I had done. However, no matter how realistic you make it in virtual games, combat is all computer-assisted. Any martial skill you might have has been determined by the numbers generated on a character sheet.

Arne and Petr gave me no time to object, even if I was going to, dragging me down into the courtyard, where the guards train. Swiftly handed a long staff, or it could have been a spear without the pointy end, but it fit well enough in my hand, I prepared to defend myself. While my opponent, Odel, stood in front of me, having a conversation with two of his female companions. In one hand, he had a wooden practice sword, the other a small shield. Didn’t seem fair, as all I had was a stick, but whatever. However, the more I listened, the more I realized he wouldn’t take this seriously.

“Ready,” Arne called out and stepped back.

Odel just stood there waiting with a grin that annoyed me, so I gave him no time to defend himself properly. As if I actually knew what I was doing, I lashed out with my weapon, slipping the tip of my mock spear between his sword and shield and tapping him in the center of his forehead. However, I expected him to fall back in surprise, not drop like a sack of potatoes.

“Idiot,” Ricard growled behind me.

Arne just shook his head while I turned to see what everyone else thought. Bernice and Zelda looked shocked; Eira and Petr didn’t appear to be too surprised, while Petra just looked smug. Well, a healer knowing how to protect herself shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise. For me, though, I was totally shocked.

The sound of a splash of water and coughing brought me out of my fugue, with someone dumping a buck of water on my unconscious opponent.

“What happened?” Odel stammered while half choking on water.

Ricard stared at him, bucket in hand, and his answer was as dry as the Sahara. “You fell over.”

He then reached down and pulled him out of the mud, saying, “Go clean up; Arne will take over.”

I offered to clear that headache that was going to be painful fairly soon, but I was waved off as he insisted it would be an object lesson for Odel not taking the whole thing seriously.

But it was Petra who stepped forward, picking up the practice sword off the ground with a familiarity of what was expected of her; the mage readied herself. And with a nod from Arne, we circled one another, striking our weapons lightly. We were neither fighting nor sparing; it was more like we were taking each other’s measure. Back and forth we went. It was as if I was doing something my mind had forgotten, but my body had not.

Soon, a halt was called, and Ricard replaced my stick with a wooden practice sword. I stared at it in wonder as it felt like something I had used a dozen times before. But I was unhappy with its length; being rather short, my reach was not spectacular. However, Petra was about my height, unlike the other two women in the adventuring party, who were quite tall. With a grin, I turned to make myself a smaller target, raised the weapon to a guard position, and placed my other hand behind my back.

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In no way was I an expert, but I still managed a halfway decent performance against the mage. Although it felt as if my skill with a sword was not exactly taught with a deadly intent in mind. I did manage a few touches, which tickled me. Still, I knew her skill came from one of desperate fights in dungeons, including little tricks she used against me, which must have saved her life on many occasions. I was surprised, though; in most games, arcane casters weren’t the best with weapons, but then again, this wasn’t a game.

Afterward, everyone seemed happy that I wouldn’t be a danger to myself or others. And upon cleaning up and grabbing some food, we began to collect the equipment I wanted to take with me. It was rather exciting, as it was all done for you as a player in most games before you even started to create a character. Developers already determined what you needed, added it to your inventory, and off you went.

Having an item box, which was common in many games, would have been helpful. Instead, I would have to store my things in the normal way. A backpack would hold food and cooking supplies, which happened to make up most of the weight I would carry, along with other party items spread among the company. A sturdy, off-white canvas bag would hold personal supplies such as extra socks, underclothes, pins, needles, string, leather straps, and toiletries. Another small bag would hold healing herbs and potions and little items that would be found in a first aid kit. And finally, I added to the pile a warm blanket, waterproof ground cover, and a water skin.

As I looked for what was missing or wanted to add, Eira commented, “Well, at least we know why you weren’t terribly concerned about appearing in the middle of a forest, Alexandria.”

Pleased for the most part with what was sorted on the table, I took a seat near her. The female members of the Wolves, now dressed more comfortably, were also present in the downstairs parlor, going through their own equipment.

“I wouldn’t say that since I had no supplies and wasn’t armed. It would have been bad if I had been transported somewhere less hospitable.”

Petra, who was looking through a small book, said, “Still, I haven’t met a healer that didn’t have some sort of familiarity with weapons. Plus, the way Alexandria walks, you could tell she’s dangerous.”

I held back a snort. “Hardly.”

Benice laughed. “Odel should have known better even if it wasn’t true.”

The young man who I dropped like a rock was the newest member of the Wandering Wolves and, although quite likable, needed that little wake-up call. Every other party member knew never to take anything at face value. It was a lesson that, hopefully, he would take to heart.

“So, how long will this all take?” Eira asked.

“A week, I imagine,” I replied, then looked around for confirmation.

Bernice nodded. “That sounds about right; it’s a little early in the year for our normal outing in the Blue Fields. Although if Lady Alexandria is as learned as Madam Yrsa, I’m sure there are things we can help her gather.”

“Please call me Alex or Alexandria, as we will be traveling together,” I insisted. “But before we leave, I will speak to Yrsa and see if she needs anything.”

Since the Wandering Wolves had been traveling for several weeks by the time they made it north to Erith village, they weren’t in a rush to depart immediately. And with the group making themselves comfortable at the village inn, my days didn’t change too terribly much. During that time, however, Ricard still had us practice our weapons, reviewed everyone’s jobs and responsibilities, and sorted the party supplies once more before we departed.

The seven of us left three days later as the sun broke over the horizon. I am sure I looked a little out of place compared to my armored companions. Even Petra wore light leather armor over her robes, but here I was, looking like I was off on a morning stroll. Well, if you were going out wearing a backpack, a short sword strapped to your waist, and holding a spear. I only added thick, form-fitting black calf-high boots to my outfit. Our mage said my slippers were mundane, so I slipped them into my pack.

With goodbyes made over breakfast, our party quickly made its way through the village but was stopped as the villagers walked up to me several times; a couple of women even handed me some baked goods, which I stored in my sack for later. But soon, I waved to Dustin as we crossed the river to the roads beyond.