The note read:

I realized you probably wouldn’t have the funds to register with the Adventurer’s Guild on your own. I do not know how much it costs, but this should be enough. Consider it an investment in our future relationship. If you need more, I have a project I need help with. Reach out any time, dearie!

Your loving Aunt,

-M

The message was clear: if I wanted more money, I’d need to help Brookie with something. I didn’t know how much the strange coins were worth, but if Brookie thought they were enough, I figured they must be. Just in case anyone was watching, I was careful not to actually take the coins out to examine them. My mom had taught me never to “flash cash” in public, and that seemed a prudent measure to take in a strange land. The sack made a noticeable bulge in my pocket, but that would do for a while at least, until I got a backpack to carry my things in. I looked around until I found the building Ferrith had previously indicated was the Adventurer’s Guildhouse. It was right off the main square: the massive brick-shaped building that took up a whole city block.

I got up with every intention of walking over there, but then a hand came down on my shoulder from behind. I turned to look at it and found it was covered in steel and attached to an incredibly tall armored paladin.

“I have some questions for you,” the paladin attached to the hand said. I didn’t have to see him take his helmet off to tell it was Brother Marcus. He was the only paladin that tall and I was starting to recognize his voice. It had a rich tenor to it.

“I already answered your captain’s questions,” I said. While that was certainly true, I’d somehow managed to avoid answering any incriminating questions and I didn’t want to mess that up. I knew Marcus wasn’t talking to me in any official capacity, so I’d just as soon ignore him.

“You’re involved in all of this,” Brother Marcus said. He pulled his visor up so he could see me. “You know something.”

“Leave me alone,” I said. “I’m not talking to you. Do you want me to go get your captain? Tell him you’re harassing me?”

“I can’t make you talk to me,” Brother Marcus admitted, “but if you refuse, I will act accordingly. That means I will assume you’re a suspect in an ongoing investigation. I will start following you. Questioning everyone you talk to, watching everything you do. Until I figure out what your secret is. Is that what you want? Or do you just want to talk to me now and we can get this over with?”

“What kind of investigation practice is that?” I demanded. “Guilty until proven innocent? That’s not how things are done where I’m from!” Strictly speaking, I’m sure I could think of a few places on Earth that operated that way, but I was from America and Marcus’s lie detecting magic agreed it was a true statement.

“You are guilty,” Brother Marcus declared with conviction. “Only a guilty party wouldn’t help me. If you refuse, that means you’re on their side. Maybe you’re even one of them.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’m not invested in any of the political machinations of this world. I’ll tell you what I know if you agree to leave me alone.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Deal,” Brother Marcus said. He looked around at the crowd, but nobody seemed to be paying us any particular mind. Most of the activity was around the entrance to the Porters, where crowds were still dealing with the fallout of the attack.

“What do you know about this conspiracy?” I asked Marcus.

“No, I’m the one asking the questions,” Marcus insisted.

“I need to know what you know if I’m going to tell you anything useful, you dunce,” I said. It felt nice to be the one in control for once. I knew I had the upper hand because Marcus was too inexperienced to question me properly and if he said anything I didn’t like I could just turn him into his captain. I wondered how I was going to give the young paladin the warning my future self had traveled through time to deliver.

Brother Marcus grunted. “I’ll tell you the minimum you need to know for context,” he said. “There’s an organization of black magic users operating in this city. I call them the Black Masks because they wear masks to hide their identity. I’ve suspected your friend, Ferrith, is secretly one of them for a while now. I just can’t prove it.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s all you’ve got?”

He scrunched his face up. “I know more. Just nothing I can tell you.”

I snorted some air out my nose. “Yeah right. That’s all you’ve figured out. Wow. Did you know I’ve been on this world for four days and I already know more than you?”

“You don’t know how they operate,” Marcus shot back. “I do. And I’m not going to tell you that. It’s privileged information. The only thing you need to know is they’ve been causing monster attacks in the city, and they’re very good at protecting each other. Haemir has the lowest capture rate for black magic users in Kalador. The only city that comes close is Gaelmir. Every time we get a tip, their agents get there first.”

“Interesting,” I said. “I see what he meant about not trusting anyone. It sounds like you have a mole.”

“Who is ‘he’ and what is a mole?” Brother Marcus demanded. “A… digging rodent?”

“It’s another word for a spy,” I clarified. “Someone on the inside must be passing information along to their agents in the field.”

“In the church? Impossible!”

“Yeah. Attitudes like that are probably how they’re getting away with it,” I said. “Assume for a second that it were possible. Could a Skill exist that could fool your little lie detector medallions?”

Marcus’s lips made a hard line. “Perhaps,” he said slowly.

“Then assume that’s what’s happening. Trust no one. This organization is way more powerful than you realize.”

“How do you know? You said yourself that you’ve only been in this world for a few days. You even suggest knowledge of a Skill that could fool Marketh’s Truth yourself. How do I know you’re not lying to me right now? Your whole story could be made up. Being summoned from another world sounds like a great way to create a new fake identity.”

I pulled out my phone from my pocket. Marcus blinked at the device. I turned the screen on, snapped a picture of his face, then turned it around so he could see his own dumb expression. “You ever seen something like this?” I asked him.

“What… is that… me?” He reached for the phone. The fact that he was wearing sharp, metal gauntlets that would absolutely scratch the hell out of my newly repaired screen didn’t seem to bother him at all. I pulled the phone back out of his reach and stuffed it in my pocket.

“I’ll take that as a no,” I said. “Trust me. You’ve never seen a device like that before because I brought it with me from another world.”

Marcus blinked. “That was just a fancy mirror,” he said.

I held my arms out and looked down at my chest. “Is my skin not also lighter than usual? Am I not shorter than any adult you’ve ever met?”

“Some rissians are as short as you,” Marcus said. “If they catch an illness when they are young.” He shook his head. “Say I believe you. For argument’s sake. What do you know about this organization that I don’t?”

“Well, let me make clear first that I don’t know much about Ferrith. He could be part of this, but I don’t think so. It seems like he spends a lot of time way out in the wood and he’s way too focused on himself to make a good secret agent. I’m pretty sure while I was traveling with him through the woods he tortured several ogres to death while I was sleeping, but being messed up in the head doesn’t necessarily mean he’s part of a conspiracy.”

“I knew it!” Marcus shouted. “I knew there was something wrong with that man!”

“And is torturing ogres illegal?” I asked. “No offense, but your culture doesn’t seem like it would have animal cruelty laws.”

“Well… uh—”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, continuing on. “So forget about Ferrith for a minute. I heard a different name for this organization you’re following. I won’t say who told me, but they’re called the Skinners.”