Bel spent the next few minutes explaining the situation to the other three men. Because of his own ignorance of much of the world, he could wave off a lot of the questions that may have required longer answers. He took a moment and looked around the group.

Yillie was still wearing Meph like a scarf and leaning on his staff, but there was a stoic confidence in his eyes that gave Bel a sense of ease. Julo was back up and armored, fully decked in leather and iron like he’d stepped off a high budget action movie set in Medieval Europe. Theori, next to him, put even Julo to shame. Bel looked at his feet and saw the sand compressed in his footsteps. The man was a giant in his gear, and even though he looked like he may be only slightly younger than Yillie, his face was as hard as his armor.

Then there was himself. Thirty-seven, unemployed, and less than twenty-four hours in this world. He was a sham. No battle skill, no knowledge, no magic. He huffed quietly and broke himself out of it. All the negative self-talk was getting to him. He rang his hands together and looked at the ash that caked his knuckles and worked up his arms. He knew he had to be better.

“Alright, first things first,” he started. “Let’s figure out what we’ve got. I’d still like some armor, even if it isn’t Aether Forged, and maybe another weapon aside from this knife. Search the tents and take a look at what the others had. We might find something useful. Gracious smelled like a hoarder, and Nim looked rich as shit. Both of them might have some things hidden away. And Porvo gave me this dagger, so there may be more where that came from. I’ll take Yillie and we’ll look through Seven’s shit. He can identify magic better than I can.”

Theori cracked his knuckles and Julo smiled. Without a word, they broke into some version of rock-paper scissors where they made their hands flop like fish until one of them decided they were the winner. Bel had no idea how it was played. Ultimately, though, Julo was the victor, and he pumped his fist as he turned towards Gracious’ tent, leaving Theori to the tent that Porvo and Nim had shared.

Bel and Yillie turned to the northern section of the camp while the other two headed to the largest enclosure to the south. Bel felt the start of rain on his head, and he looked up at the sky. It was now a blanket of black cloth draped over what had started as a clear blue day. He and Yillie hurried into the tent as the sounds of rain padded against the sand.

The interior of the tent was divided into three sections, with Theori and Julo’s areas in the front, and Seven’s in the back. Walking through Julo’s section, it reminded Bel of his bedroom. Clothes strewn about haphazardly, an odd book open and face down so the spine bent.

Then there was Theori’s area in stark opposition. The man was fastidious in his tidy nature. Even though it was just a tent, he had everything organized and put in its place. The best part was his bed, or lack-thereof. Instead of the pile of blankets that Julo had, Theori slept on a mount of pillows like a damned sultan. It looked supremely comfortable.

Seven’s section was exactly what he expected. It smelled weird, was a complete mess, and if there was anything worth finding, it was buried in mounds of clothes and loose fabrics. Bel dug carefully through the piles of clothes and books, while Yillie moved to a small chest of drawers. Bel wasn’t paying attention when he heard a fast hissing noise and heard the older man gasp. He turned and saw Yillie holding an arm over his face as if he were trying to cover his mouth for a cough. He made the vague motion for Bel to do the same, and he did without hesitation. Bel looked at Meph on Yillie’s shoulder, but the snake seemed unfazed.

Beside Yillie, the chest was open, and one drawer was pulled out. Attached to it with some kind of metal mechanism, a glass ampule was broken in two, and dripped a light yellow liquid into the drawer.

The first thing Bel noticed was the stinging in his eyes, like he was tired and they were drying out. Then, his skin prickled like he had ants crawling all over him. He grabbed a cloth from the floor and wiped it across his face, but Yillie stopped him with a frantic wave. Bel dropped the cloth, and the area where he’d already wiped inflamed like he’d rubbed himself with poison ivy. The sensation only worsened, and within seconds, his entire face was on fire and his eyes felt like they might explode. He panicked and looked around on the floor for anything, but Yillie caught his attention. He held up a finger, telling Belmont to wait.

Seconds of agony ticked by like hours for Bel until the pain finally subsided. A few more moments, and Yillie cautiously uncovered his mouth and took small, sipping breaths before inhaling fully.

“It is fine, now. My apologies.”

Bel uncovered his mouth and breathed deep. His eyes were still on fire, but it was slowly going away, too. “What the hell was that?”

Yillie leaned over and slowly brought a hand to Bel’s eyes. He held the eye open and quickly blew. It caught Bel off guard, but the pain died almost immediately. Yillie did the same to the second eye, and the pain left completely.

“Poison,” he said. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind.” He held his own eyes open for Bel, who obliged.

“It’s a new one, unique to Eon. I’ve only seen it once before. Poison from a plant is extracted and then dispersed by a breaking a small glass ampule. It dissipates quickly in open air, but if you rub it into your skin, it will penetrate and cause blinding pain, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed. It is even worse if you breathe it in. The moisture in your mouth and lungs increases the pain tenfold. Luckily, it doesn’t migrate, which is why when I blew into your eyes, it dried them enough for the poison to dissipate because it hadn’t coated your eye socket.”

Bel touched his forehead and eyelids. It was still tender where the poison had crept in.

“If you’d continued to wipe at it, it would have only prolonged the duration. The group that found it was incapacitated for months. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem to bother serpents.” He reached up and patted Meph.

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Bel shook his head. “Fuck. Alright, well, let’s be careful going through this psychopath’s stuff, then.”

“Agreed.”

Bel continued his search through the clothes and cloths, though now moving much slower and more deliberately. He’d all but given up hope of finding anything until he felt something solid through a few layers of fabric. Digging deeper, he withdrew a small book, about the size of a paperback, bound in red leather, but with only a couple dozen pages.

He opened it and looked through the scrawled text. It was just names and dates for about half of the book; the rest was empty. He held it up to Yillie with the page open. “Does this mean anything to you?”

Yillie turned and squinted at the text as he read, but shook his head. “What is the earliest date?”

Bel flipped to the first page. “36 Arbellan, 245.” Bel realized he still had no idea what the calendar here was like.

“Slightly over ten years ago. It’s just names and dates?”

Bel nodded and flipped through the pages more. If it belonged to Seven, it was entirely different from anything else about him. The pages were timeworn and stained, but the entries were precisely written. The handwriting changed slightly over time, but it was unmistakably the same person writing it.

Yillie snapped him out of it. “Curious, but we have more pressing matters. Here…” he held up a small iron rod, no larger than a wood nail, and showed it to Bel.

There were letters carved delicately into the iron that looked vaguely like English, but not quite. Bel looked over them again, and they became clear, like looking at one of those Magic Eye puzzles. He couldn’t read exactly what they said, but he knew it was a fire spell. Tier two.

“Tier Two, Fire.” He said while reading the text again.

Yillie looked impressed. “Exactly. I didn’t expect you to be able to read it.”

“I couldn’t at first, but it cleared up the more I looked at it.”

Yillie nodded. “That is your Insight aspect. Though, I still feel you are Tier Zero.”

“I am.”

“Then you should not have been able to read it. Tier One, perhaps, but not Tier Zero.”

Bel knew why he could. Meph’s insight was tier one, and he was sharing the snake’s stats. He wouldn’t pass that on to Yillie yet, though.

“Perhaps it is best to keep some secrets.”

Bel thought the old man looked hurt. “Sorry, Yillie, I just—”

“No need to apologize. It was I who warned you about giving away information.”

Bel figured it was best to move on. “Is that everything?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

“Good. Let’s get back out there and see if Julo or Theori found anything.”

Bel pocketed the book. He wasn’t sure what it meant yet, but he didn’t like the feeling he got from it. It was an ominous totem. He didn’t want to assume the worst, but in the darker reaches of his mind, he had some ideas.

The two stood and worked back out of the tent and into the drizzling rain. Bel looked around the camp for heat signatures, but only saw the two of Theori and Julo in the other tents. He pulled out his phone as Yillie walked away and checked the map. Just their dots. He stepped in behind Yillie, and by the time they reached the other tents, Julo was walking out one, and Theori, shortly after, from the other. They met under a cloth overhang in front of Gracious’ tent while the rain lightly padded around them.

“Find anything?” Bel asked.

Theori nodded. “Two vials of something in Nim’s junk, and a Tier Two leg snapper in Porvo’s.” He handed the vials over to Yillie, who took them carefully.

Yillie looked over at Bel. “The same that Seven had.”

Bel nodded and looked at Theori. “What’s a leg snapper?”

Theori held up an iron bear trap, but with smooth bars instead of teeth. “It’s meant to maim, but not kill. Breaks the bone.”

Bel’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Julo answered. “King’s sport, I imagine. Part of the job was to bring back any high Tier game we found. The King kills it himself. That way, he gets the Aether from the kill.”

Bel huffed. “What the fuck, man? I like this guy less the more I hear about him.”

“It’s pretty common practice. The King needs to get strong, but they can’t go out and fight, or they might die.”

Bel chuckled and looked up into the rain. “Yeah, it’d be a real shame if the fucking ones sending people to die had to deal with the consequences of their actions.” He looked back down. “Fuck it, though. Julo, did you find anything in Gracious’ tent?”

He held up a small leather chest piece and a pale yellow cloth shirt. “Sure did.” He tossed the shirt to Bel. “Put that on over the one you’re wearing. It’s heavier, and should do something against grazing attacks. Then I’ll put the leather on you. It’s not a full set of armor, but it’s Aether Forged, so it’s better than nothing.”

Bel held up the shirt. It was clean and looked fresh enough, so he put it on. It fit snuggly, but didn’t constrict his movement. Julo walked over and dropped the leather over his shoulders. He tugged it down like the harness on a roller coaster and then started clipping buckles together. In less than a minute, he had it attached to Bel, and Bel had to laugh. He’d spent ten minutes trying to get the set off of the dead man in the village and Julo had made it seem like tying shoes.

“How do I look?”

Theori smiled for the first time. “Like an asshole.”

“Funny, cause I feel like a douchebag.”

Yillie and Julo chuckled.

Julo produced three bottles from his hip. “I also found three healing salves. If it's alright, I’ll hold on to them. I can pass them to Theori if he needs them, so Scalp can catch a break.” He looked over at Yillie sheepishly. “Sorry… Yillie.”

Yillie shook his head. “It’s alright, I’ve grown accustomed to, if not fond of, the name.”

Theori looked at Bel and Yillie. “What did you all find?”

Yillie produced the iron rod, and Bel showed the book.

Theori took the book, flipped through the pages for a moment, and then looked at the rod. “The book won’t do us any good, but the spell is nice. What is it?”

“Tier Two Fire,” Yillie answered

Julo whistled.

“Can either of you use it?”

Theori shook his head, but Julo nodded. “Yeah, I can, but I’ve never been good with magic. Too finicky. I like my hammers. It’s a Strength spell, though.” He looked at Bel. “Can you use it?”

Bel looked at Yillie, who nodded. “Anyone with at least Tier One Strength can cast it, but it’s a waste to bind it to yourself at a Tier lower than the spell, because you’ll have to destroy it to increase that Tier, meaning you’ll never see the full Tier Two benefit.” He held the iron rod out to Bel, anyway. “It’s your choice.”

Bel took it. “Can’t use it if you’re dead.”

Theori chuckled.

“And, also, you mentioned Strength, and before you said something about Insight. Do you all see stats the same way that I do?”

Yillie shook his head. “That’s the Aether. It is translating the concept as we say it so that you understand what we mean, and we understand what you mean.”

Bel nodded slowly. “Right. The universal translator. Fucking weird shit.” He turned and walked out into the camp. “Alright, we need to work on a plan.”

Julo called out to Bel as he walked away. “Hey, Bel.”

He turned. “Yeah.”

“That stuff on your hands and arms. Is that ash?”

Bel held his arms out in front of him. “Yeah.”

Theori walked over. “From the village, right?”

“Yeah.”

The big man clapped a reassuring hand on Bel’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be alright.”

Bel nodded.