P-tok-thump!

P-tok-thump!

P-tok-thump!

Peter shook the fuzzies out of his head as he wondered what the weird noise could possibly be. He pulled on the rope inside the sarcophagus to let the cryptkeeper know he needed out, and had barely laid back when the lid slid back with a grinding noise.

“Hey sleepyhead. You planning on spending the whole age in that box?” Dani’s slightly annoyed voice echoed through the room.

Sitting up, Peter saw she was reclining against the wall opposite the plinth where his sarcophagus lay with a small leather ball in her fist. She threw it with remarkable accuracy so that it bounced off the floor, the plinth, then his chest.

P-tok-thump!

“Oi. Cut that out. I haven’t been that long.” Peter winced, rubbing the spot on his chest where the ball had hit. He fished it out from around his waist and threw it back with all the speed and accuracy of an English fast bowler.

Dani watched the ball roll along the floor in her general direction until it reached where she was sitting. “Not that long? It’s been two days. Most rebirths take an hour, tops. I was starting to think you’d died the final death. Which would be really sad from a low level Were-beast.” She grabbed the ball and stuck it in a random pouch. With a rustle of skirts, she stood and brushed herself off. “You ready to go now? We’ve got loot to claim and my mum says I have to go do stuff soon.”

Peter levered himself out with a grunt. “Mums, right? You’d think the world was ending if you don’t set the table or clean your room.”

“Or walk the dog?” Dani jingled the leash of a little fluffball that had been napping out of sight behind her.

The two made their way down the street trailing a litany of complaints about mums, chores, cleaning and how parents are generally dead from the neck up. One puppy delivery later and much hugging later they were a whole gold piece richer.

“Oh, shoot. I have to run.” Dani glanced at a blinking gem in her bracer. “Mum’s getting impatient. Here,” she whipped a large animal skin out of an impossibly small pouch attached to her belt. “You’ll need this over at stinky’s. Now, I’m going to be busy for a bit, so stay out of trouble. And, try not to die again.”

Peter looked down at the furry item in his hands, then up at the rapidly dissipating cloud of smoke where his party member used to be. He felt guilty holding both the gold coin and the fur, so he resolved to break it at the next shop and give the five silver to Dani next time she was around. Despite being a consummate food thief, she was pretty nice.

Dani’s departure left him feeling like he might have spent a little too long in game as well. Wondering why his alarm hadn’t gone off yet, he checked the clock function. “Eight minutes? But we’ve been messing about for over an hour?” Whipping out a piece of parchment and a quill and leaning on a nearby wall he did some rough estimates and calculations. “So, I think it was about midday when we left the graveyard… clock tower on the mayor’s house says… one… thirty? Ish? Are you kidding me? There’s a ten to one compression here? How has nobody mentioned this yet?”

Reeling from the revelation, Peter parked his butt on the sidewalk. It all felt real, he was sure he hadn’t noticed time clicking over faster or the sun zooming across the sky, or any of the other cliches. He picked himself up and strode off down the road towards the city square. He was going to sort this out for certain.

In the square he leaned on the graveyard wall with a good view of the mayor’s house, specifically the big clock on the front. When the minute hand reached the eight he began counting, keeping a careful eye on the second hand.

“One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousand.” Peter used the old mnemonic his grandfather had taught him for keeping time. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s close enough that if you didn’t have a clock you’d be in the ballpark. “Fifty eight, one thousand, fifty nine, one thousand, sixty, one thousand, sixty one, one thousand. Huh.” The second hand had just passed the twelve. There was no perceptible change in time. Sixty seconds took a minute to pass, within an acceptable margin of error. It certainly wasn’t ten times faster.

Peter checked his real world clock again. It still read the same as it had before. Did everyone know about this, and no-one was telling? Or had no-one noticed it yet?

A gentle elbow in the ribs caught him by surprise. “You having trouble reading the clock?”

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Peter nearly leapt out of his skin. “Rosie! You almost scared me to death.”

Rosie looked quite different out of her work clothes. She was dressed in a modest brown skirt that ended just above a pair of matching ankle boots. A white, long sleeve blouse with ruffles down the front and a light brown shawl to complete the ensemble. Quite the far cry from the “tavern wench” uniform he was used to seeing her in. It was quite fetching in a modest way. She smiled in schoolmarmish fashion, then waved a dismissive hand at the building in question. “Kids these days. It’s sad they aren’t being taught the old ways of timekeeping. These new Nixie clocks are corrupting the youth of today, I say.” A gentle elbow to the ribs showed that it was intended as a joke.

Shrugging off the wall, Peter grinned back at her. “You might not have noticed, but I’m not your average youth.”

Rosie reached over his shoulder and plucked a feather from his wing. “You could say I have. ‘Tis not often a boy in this town will pass the time reading and writing in the tavern when there’s a game of stickball to play or a river to swim in. And, you know,” she turned the feather back and forth in the slight breeze, “the fact that exactly none of the people I’ve ever met had wings. I would go so far as to say you are an exceptional individual purely on the miracle of your origins, but that would leave out all you have achieved since you arrived in Averton.”

Peter’s brow wrinkled with confusion. “Achieved? Mostly I’ve just died a whole lot.”

“Nonsense, young Traveller.” Rosie leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard from the sergeant of the guard how you handled the ‘incident’ in the square. You’ve made a bit of a name for yourself as someone who can get things done. Even Bob was impressed, and he can usually find something to complain about in everyone.”

“Who’s Bob?”

Rosie straightened up and held out a lace gloved hand. “Bob, or Robert, as he prefers, runs the general store. Did you know that you’re the first Traveller to remove every rodent from his warehouse? I think that deserves an ice cream.”

Peter accepted the hand and allowed himself to be led away. “Ice cream, you say? I didn’t know there was ice cream here.”

“I know we’re a small town in the back end of the kingdom, but all it takes is milk and a cantrip to freeze it. Why would you think we wouldn’t have ice cream?”

“Ah... but… you know…” Peter sputtered, then gave up. “Never mind. What flavours are there?”

They’d just arrived at the front door to the general store, and Rosie gestured at a sign in the window. “See for yourself. I’m going to have a Cobbled Road with chocolate sprinkles.”

Peter stood outside for a moment reading the names of the flavours on the sign, while Rosie went on ahead, setting the doorbell ringing. Most of the names were similar to real world counterparts, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry and such. Some were similar to ones he knew, like the Cobbled Road that Rosie was having. There were a few at the end that really raised an eyebrow, especially the watermelon, firemelon, earthmelon and airmelon combination that the sign called the Elemelon Swirl.

Entering the shop, Peter found Rosie chatting to the store keep he met a few days earlier. The guy still looked as shifty as ever, perhaps shiftier under Rosie’s steely gaze. “Ah, Robert. I trust you recall Peter, who did such a wonderful job sorting out your pest problem?”

The rat-faced merchant blanched a little. “Er, yes, well. Good morning Traveller. What can I get for you?”

“Since you are so happy with his work, I’m sure you paid him handsomely. Didn’t you Robert?” Rosie laid a familiar hand on his shoulder. “But today it’s my treat. Any ice cream he wants, with a generous scoop of course.” She produced a small purse but made no move to open it as sweat began to bead on the merchant’s forehead.

“N-n-not at all R-rosie, I’d be h-happy to shout… what did you say his name was? P-peter? Peter an ice cream. Two scoops even, in a cup as well.” Robert’s eyes looked like he was searching for an escape hatch but Rosie’s fingers were ever so slightly buried in his arm.

Peter was enjoying watching the jerk squirm but kept it to himself. “Two scoops of rum’n’raisin please sir. It’s my favorite.”

Rosie released Robert so he could fill the orders and beckoned Peter closer. “Ol’ Bobby boy would mortgage his own mother to make an extra copper, but will act honorably when there’s no other option,” she whispered to him. “He knows I know his wife, and if it got back to her that he was posting quests with poor rewards she would tan his hide in the square for all to see. Also, I like watching him squirm sometimes. That stick up his butt makes him so fun to tease.”

“Here you are Rosie… Peter.” Robert handed over a cup nearly overflowing with ice cream and a waffle cone with a single, if very large, scoop covered in tiny chocolate flecks. “Y’all have a nice day now.”

Peter and Rosie bid him goodbye and strolled along the streets enjoying their snacks. It was certainly the best rum and raisin ice cream Peter had ever had, and came with a minor healing enhancement too according to a little notification in the corner of his vision.

Reaching a small house not far from the north gate, Rosie stopped. “Well Peter, I have to head inside and change before my shift. I do hope you’ve had a nice afternoon. I know I did.”

Peter grinned around a mouthful of icy treat. “If wabs wonnerfoo.” He swallowed. “Sorry, it was wonderful. Thank you for your help with Robert. I was starting to feel like nobody liked me here.”

“It’s like that with every new Traveller, Peter. We’ve had our fair share of vandals as well as heroes visit our little town, so people are wary at first. Keep doing your best for Averton and I’m sure it’s Citizens will appreciate it.” Rosie bent down and gave him a big sisterly hug, then turned and went inside.

A flashing in the notification area let him know that his allotted hour was up and he had to return to the real world. Sighing, Peter stepped into a nearby alley and logged out.