A series of notification popped up in Dean’s vision. He selected one, causing a new status screen to open.

You’ve started a new Relationship

Name: Eowyn

Status: Hopeful (+1)

Description: Years of conflict between Elves and Humans has made Eowyn wary of all humans. She believes you may be different than other humans, but you have not yet proven it to her. Complete quests or interact with this individual to improve your relationship with them.

Name: Amelia

Status: Indifferent (0)

Description: Years of conflict between Elves and Humans has made Amelia wary of all humans. Amelia doesn’t have an opinion, and only tolerates you because of Eowyn. Complete quests or interact with this individual to improve your relationship with them.

Name: Famor

Status: Cautious (-1)

Description: Years of conflict between Elves and Humans has made Famor wary of all humans. The only reason he is willing to give you a chance is because of Eowyn. Complete quests or interact with this individual to improve your relationship with them.

Name: Council of Me’lian

Status: Distrust (-3)

Description: Years of conflict between Elves and Humans has made the council wary of all humans. The only reason they are willing to give you a chance is because of Eowyn. Complete quests or interact with this individual to improve your relationship with them.

Name: Neva

Status: Hated (-5)

Description: Neva believes that you will betray and hurt his friends. The only reason he won’t kill you is because of Eowyn. Complete quests or interact with this individual to improve your relationship with them.

Dean whistled softly after reading Neva’s description. Definitely don’t walk any dark alleys with the man, Dean thought.

The rest made sense. Famor’s explanation about the King betraying the elves would certainly account for the hatred between the two races, and years of conflict would’ve only reinforced the hatred. He was surprised Eowyn would even give him a chance, considering, but her knowledge of players could explain the difference.

He closed the window and glanced up at Eowyn to ask her about the quest, but she’d left, along with the village council. “Where’d she go?”

Neva snorted, “Are all humans as clueless as you?”

Dean ignored Neva’s comment and looked inquiringly at Famor.

Sighing, Famor said, “The council is meeting to discuss Eowyn’s proposal.”

“How long will it take for her to convince them?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” Famor shrugged, “What she is proposing is unlike anything the council has ever agreed to. My mother said she can convince them, but I don’t see how. You’re a human, even if you are whatever it is she called you, and dealings with humans have never ended well. You recognized the word. What does it mean?”

Dean nodded as he said, “She called me a player.” Dean snorted, “Where I’m from, it used to mean someone that was good with women.”

Famor raised an eyebrow at him, “You do not look deformed, but I haven’t met many humans to know if you are pleasing to the eye. Amelia, you’re at least a female, is he pleasing to the eye?”

Amelia tilted her head, studying him in a way that embarrassed Dean, making his cheeks redden. After a moment, she said, “He is not displeasing to the eye, for a human, but I don’t believe that is what mother meant.”

Neva growled behind him. Dean turned, half expecting a sword in his back, to see Neva glaring daggers at him. So that’s how it is. He turned back to Famor, “It’s not. I’m not sure how to explain it. I doubt you’ll believe me, even if I do.”

Famor said, “Try, at least.”

“Then, I guess, you could say that players are from…” He almost said from the real world but didn’t think that was the best explanation. Instead, he finished, “A different world.”

“There’s no such thing.” Neva spat. “You’re making it up.”

“What’s your world like?” Amelia asked, obviously skeptical, but intrigued, about different worlds.

Dean thought about it for a minute, trying to figure out how to describe the real world without hinting that this was just a game. It dawned on him that he could just tell them their world wasn’t real, that it was just an imaginary place for players to have fun and get away from their own lives for a while. Except, they wouldn’t believe him, and it would be unnecessarily cruel. Instead, he answered, “There’s a lot more cities than here. There aren’t a lot of forests like this, most have been chopped down for lumber or to build on the land.”

“It sounds awful.” Amelia said, sadness tingeing her voice. She shivered slightly.

“I can’t believe you’re falling for this,” Neva complained, “He’s obviously lying. There’s no such thing as other worlds. He’s just making it up, so we don’t think he’s a typical, stupid human.”

Amelia sniffed, “I never said I believed him, Neva.”

Famor shook his head slightly, “Nor do I. Unless you can prove it?” Dean shook his head. Neva smirked, but Famor ignored him as he said, “I don’t know what you are, but I agree with Neva. The only other world is the Demon Realm. But you don’t look like a demon to me.”

Dean shrugged, “Like I said, you wouldn’t believe me. Your mother might be able to explain it better.” Dean looked around the clearing, spotted a bench and walked over to it. The bench was actually a part of a tree trunk, the tree having grown in a way that provided a smooth seat and back for elves to sit on. That or, as Dean really suspected, elves had some kind of nature magic.

He sat down, a little surprised that the bark gave a little like a cushion. The other three were still standing where he’d left them, glancing at him as they talked. He didn’t care that they didn’t believe him, he never expected them to, but couldn’t think of a way to improve his relationship with them. If he could improve his status with the elves, they might be willing to help out with the orcs in a more active way. At this point, he had no idea how to defeat them. He hadn’t even founded the city, much less built a spawn point. And if Shiro was right, the orcs would eventually move on to attack the new city.

After a few minutes, the group drifted apart. Neva walked to the opposite side of the clearing, where he sat on a bench and glared at Dean sourly with his arms folded. Amelia watched him go, shaking her head at his back, before stalking off.

Famor, on the other hand, only took a dozen steps away from the tree, drew his sword, and settled into some kind of fighting stance. Dean watched as he moved slowly from one position to the next, pausing for a few seconds at each pose, before starting again. After ten minutes, Dean decided to walk over and ask, “What’re you doing?”

Without breaking his movements or breathing, Famor replied, “It’s called the Katori Technique.”

“And that is?”

“A sword technique.” Famor answered.

That much was obvious. What Dean really wanted to know is if there were more techniques, one for each weapon, or maybe even multiple techniques for each weapon. Did they provide some kind of extra advantage in battle? Or, would Famor be willing to teach him? He had so many different questions racing through his head that he didn’t know where to start. Dean settled on the most important question first, “Can you teach me?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I can.” Famor said.

Famor didn’t say anything else. Dean realized his mistake, feeling like he was talking to an old English teacher he once had, “Will you teach me?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“It is an Elven technique.” Famor explained. “I will not teach it to a human.”

“Do all elves learn it?” Then a thought struck him, “Are there more elf villages or is this the only one?”

“There are more, though I do not know where they are located. And I cannot speak for other villages, but everyone in this village learns the basics of the technique. Only a few pursue it past that.”

“And you’re one of them?” Dean asked.

“I am.” Famor said curtly, “Now, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Dean walked a dozen paces from Famor and drew his sword. He tried to replicate Famor’s movements, but Famor stopped the moment he realized what Dean was doing. Famor sat down with his legs crossed, sword across his lap and closed his eyes.

Dean sighed, then decided he might as well practice his sword skills. He wasn’t sure if it’d give him any experience, just swinging his sword around in the air, but figured it was worth a shot. He started practicing, feeling like a fool after Famor’s steady, practiced movements.

Dean stabbed and slashed his way around the field, twisting and turning as he did so, until he turned abruptly and slashed downward. Famor caught the blade against his own with careless ease. Dean gaped, taking a few steps back as he tried to figure out how Famor had crossed the thirty paces so quickly. For his part, Famor tilted his head calmly and said, “Are all humans as clumsy as you with their swords? Or is it just you that has never learned to wield a blade?”

Indignant, Dean growled, “There’s nothing wrong with how I fight.”

“You think so?” Famor answered stoically, “Then prove it. If you even scratch me, I’ll teach you the katori technique.”

Dean was about to blurt out an acceptance but thought better of it. “And if I don’t?”

Famor waved the hand that wasn’t holding the sword, “If you don’t, then you will know that you need to learn how to fight. It wouldn’t be fair to demand anything else in return.”

“Asshole.” Dean growled as he charged. Without knowing how it happened, he landed on his back. He blinked a few times before rolling over, grabbing his sword and standing up.

Famor raised an eyebrow questioningly. Dean roared in anger as he attacked, but Famor easily deflected every single blow. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw that they had drawn a crowd. Neva stood at the front, a wolfish grin on his face.

After a few exchanges, Famor did something, a flick of his wrist, that sent Dean’s sword flying through the air. Dean walked slowly around the small circle, watching Famor as he moved to collect his sword. Famor stood there calmly, only moving enough to keep his body facing Dean.

Dean lost track of how many times he wound up disarmed, on his back, or ended up staring at the tip of Famor’s blade pressed against his chest. At first, he gave in to the rage of battle, letting it fuel his attacks. It was easy to remain angry, despite the fact that Famor wasn’t goading him in any way. No, Famor’s stoic, impenetrable self-assurance that Dean wouldn’t score a scratch was more than enough to keep his temper hot. But he couldn’t score a hit, couldn’t get close to breaking past Famor’s defenses.

After another failed attempt, Dean grabbed his sword from the ground, and ground his teeth as he stalked back and forth. The damn Elf hadn’t even broken a sweat yet, while Dean felt it pouring down his face and trickling down his back.

But then he noticed something. While Dean was stalking around the circle, Famor stood perfectly still, on the balls of his feet, with both his knees bent. Dean stopped moving, and mimicked the stance, feeling his weight shift a little lower. He felt off balanced, so slid his foot forward a few inches to correct it. The stance felt weird, almost like he was completely grounded, while at the same time, feeling like he was ready to leap into the air at any moment.

He felt the anger drain out of him. Not from the stance, but because he was concentrating on something other than fighting. It was replaced a queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. He easily recognized it because the emotion had become a constant companion the entire time he’d been in the game. Fear.

Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to the dark side of the force. The quote crossed his mind before he could stop it. But he knew it was true. He’d been hiding his fear behind his anger. Keeping it bottled up until he needed it. And that’s my secret, Dean thought, I’m always angry. But right now, for whatever reason, his anger had drained away and allowed the fear to boil up.

Not from dying, his brain had figured out that death wasn’t an end here, but from being a failure. Of being useless. His friends were experienced players, capable of holding their own in a fight. Sure, he’d survived against the leechwings, had defeated the alpha wolf by himself, and fought the orcs during the battle, but all of that had been a mad scramble. He always took more damage than them, surviving by the skin of his teeth, and they were forced to heal him so the group could continue. He was the weakest link. Goodbye.

The sensation spread slowly to the rest of his body. Once the feeling reached his fingers and toes, a second feeling started growing. It felt colder and harder, starting in his chest and working its way out. Except, it wasn’t a feeling per se, but something just as powerful. Determination. It didn’t ease the fear coursing through his body, just honed it in a way he could use.

It might’ve been a trick of the light, but Dean thought he saw Famor nod almost imperceivably. Dean approached a lot more cautiously this time, taking each step with deliberate focus, as he shifted his weight and moved his sword to adjust. He barely registered the notifications that flashed at the bottom of his vision, before attacking Famor.

Dean still lost the exchange without scratching Famor, still had his sword wrenched out of his hands and wound up on his back staring at the tree’s leaves, but it took longer this time for it to happen.

Dean was startled to hear Famor approach instead of waiting for him to get back up. He wasn’t sure what Famor was going to do, but didn’t have enough time to react. He was taken completely off guard when Famor sat beside him and quietly asked, “You realized something about yourself, did you not?”

Dean climbed to a sitting position facing Famor. “Yeah, I did.”

“When we first started sparring, it felt like fighting any other human. Until the last. What did you realize?” Famor asked.

Dean almost replied with something snarky, but something stopped him. He didn’t know why, but he decided to tell the truth. “I realized I was afraid.”

Famor nodded his understanding, “I, too, am afraid every time I draw my blade in battle. Is it death that you fear?”

“No,” Dean said, “I’m afraid of not being good enough to help my friends when they need me.”

A notification flashed across the bottom of Dean’s vision.

Your Relationship with Famor has Improved to Hopeful (+1).

Dean grunted softly at the notification. He’d somehow just jumped their relationship two entire levels by just telling the truth. He hoped he could persuade the rest as easily.

Famor replied, “That’s an honorable fear to have. It ruled you, at first, but you have found a way to rule it instead. I’m beginning to see what my mother sees in you.”

“Thanks, I think.” Dean said, “Just give me a second to grab my sword and I’ll be ready for another round.”

“No, that is enough for today.” Famor said, “My mother has returned and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Dean glanced at the big tree. Eowyn was standing in front of it, watching the two, with her usual calm expression. Amelia stood beside her, having returned from wherever shed’ gone, and watched them curiously. Neva stood a few steps behind them, clearly to stay out of Eowyn’s eyesight as he stared maliciously at Dean. Any time Eowyn or Amelia glanced in his direction, he immediately changed his expression to something less cruel. Dean shook his head, muttering to himself, “Seriously, what the hell did I do to piss him off so badly?”

Famor followed his gaze. Neva didn’t change his expression fast enough. Famor grunted, “You didn’t do anything. Neva is very fond of my sister, and overly protective of her. He believes it will win her heart, but I fear he is mistaken.”

“Yeah, I figured that much out.” Dean said, “Still doesn’t explain why he hates me so much.”

“Do you not see?” Famor said, “You just told me of your fear for your friends. He feels the same fear, but for someone he loves. Unlike my sister and I, Neva hasn’t encountered any human other than you. He only knows what our legends say. Yet, my mother and Amelia aren’t afraid of you as he thinks they should be. He thinks they’re mistaken, though he wouldn’t admit it to them out of fear that she would be angry with him.”

“You’ve met other humans?” Dean said, surprised.

“Only a few,” Famor admitted, “But enough to know that not all of you are pure evil as the legends say.”

“But on the way here, you told me about the King. It sounded like you hate all humans because of what he did.” Dean said.

Famor replied slowly, contemplating each word before speaking, “It’s hard to explain. I was raised believing that all humans are like that, but my mother is a village leader and a Truth Minder. She sees humans differently as a result and ensured that Amelia and I learned to judge humans individually. Our village trades with humans, there are a few things we can’t make ourselves, but we meet them at the edge of the forest. My mother took my sister and I on several occasions, so that we could see humans for ourselves. From those trips, I learned that not all humans are evil.” He shrugged as he said, “But if I’m honest with myself, I believe a human evil until they prove otherwise.”

“And Neva hasn’t had the same experiences with humans,” Dean said, “So, he only knows about the legends. He thinks I’m evil and can’t figure out why your family trusts me.”

“Precisely,” Famor said, “And his fear of you, fear of losing my sister, is clouding his thoughts.” Famor chuckled, “And it’s partly my fault. I asked her if she found you pleasing to the eye, do you remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean had forgotten about that. “But all she said was that I wasn’t deformed or anything.”

Famor shrugged, “It’s more than Amelia has ever said about Neva.”

“Damn.” Dean said, “Poor guy.”

“Perhaps,” Famor said, “I fear I may owe you an apology for that. Had I thought about Neva’s feelings at the time, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Sounds like you don’t think I’m completely evil anymore.” Dean said.

“No,” Famor said, “Crossing swords with you has convinced me otherwise.”

“You learn about people from fighting them?” Dean asked.

Famor laughed, “It’s one way. Probably the most straightforward way I know. It’s impossible to hide your true self during a fight.”

“Does this mean you’ll teach me that technique?” Dean asked.

“No,” Famor said. He hesitated before adding, “But I will think on it. That’s all I will promise.”

A quest notification popped up.

You’ve Received a Potential Quest

Title: The Katori Technique

Reward: Training from Famor

Description: Famor is hesitant to teach you the Katori technique. Improve your relationship with him to start this quest.

Dean grinned as he cleared the notification from his vision. If improving his relationship with Famor was the only way to learn the technique, then he'd just have to do it. And since he'd already jumped two levels already, it was going to be easy. But first, he needed to change his spawn point and find out what this mysterious quest was all about. Oh, and found a new city, create a spawn point and defeat a horde of Orcs. When did RPGs get so complicated? Whatever happened to simple games, where all he had to do was defeat the boss and save the princess. Next time he got stuck in a game, he hoped it'd be a first person shooter.