Chapter Three: Delusional Hope
“That’s the last of it!” Sol laughed voice ragged before swaying backwards and falling into one of the dinning room chairs.
“My aren’t you a busy little bee.” The old man’s wife declared descending the stairs to look about the room. Sol smiled at her nodding.
“My names Sol.”
“Jill Vanda, I’m married to that old coot Telmin.” she greeted giving him her hand. Sol shook it with a smile. “How about a drink?” she proffered taking up a large clay jug of water and two small wooden bowls. It seemed that the Brochas continent, or at least Zelday, did not have cups or plates but used bowls and dishes of varying shapes and sizes for everything, at least going by the old couples kitchen. Sol nodded drinking from the bowl.
“You know this whole work thing would be so much easier with magic,” he complained with a sigh placing the bowl down empty. Well at least by using his own arms and legs he’d been able to improve his strength and endurance by one point each.
"Is that so, is magic some kind of tool?” the old woman questioned with a smile.
“Yeah something light that.” he replied worry beginning to creep into his heart.
Sol paused looking her up and down, like her husband and everyone else in the village she had tanned skin and rough hands, she was obviously no scholar, and she was old, her hair greying, her clothes were just above average in terms of both deign and quality, she musn’t have been that rich either, that or they were just frugal with their money. Sol wondered whether it was that magic was rare in his new world and most people didn’t know about, or was it that magic just didn’t exist?
He was struck by the horror of that thought which meant he could just be stuck in some random other world, not a fantasy one… He felt sick at the sudden realisation as his dreams and plans came crashing down about him, the pillar that had supported them crumbling into dust.
“Oh, dear you look sick I’ll set you something up and you can get washed how about it?” she questioned smiling to him. Sol realised he would probably need a shower after so much physical work, having never worked a day in his life before. He nodded as the woman left for a moment, moving out of the back door.
“She’s a good woman.” Telmin sighed recording all of his produce in a little booklet, with a charcoal pencil. “Tomorrow I’ll be teaching you how to run the shop, it isn’t hard once you get started, just need to practice bartering a bit and learning the names and values of all the products we sell. Also when to buy and when not to buy items from travellers...” As the man talked he extended the list; minor nuance by minor nuance. Sol smiled as Mrs Vanda returned to relieve him from his laborious duty of listening to her husband. “Its ready for you outside dear.” She replied. Sol nodded stepping out of the back door.
He turned left, then right… nothing, he couldn’t see a thing. Then looking down he noticed it: a large black bowl filled with water, a light steam rising from it a sponge placed next to it atop a stone flag. Sol shook his head, the idea of a bath or shower fleeting before him like a flock of startled birds, taking wing into an endless distance.
With a sigh he removed his shirt and knelt down facing the water. His face was different from before, it had changed, not that surprising really he’d already suspected as much. He was very average looking; he no longer had or needed glasses and seemed slightly taller and thinner than before, still he looked generic. His hair and eyes were dark, though most people in the town had hair colour ranging from gold to light brown, while there eyes had a far wider spectrum even though he had seen none sharing his shade of grey; like an over cast sky just before rain, They set a sharp contrast to his oily black hair. Of course, on the oiliness of his hair he had a simple remedy, he knelt soaking his hair in the bowl a couple of times before using the sponge to wipe himself down focusing on cleaning his feet, stained from the road. Soon he was done and at least slightly fresher though the air of the encroaching evening was starting to bite.
With a yawn he returned to the house providing the dish to Mrs Vanda and sitting at the side of the table, his hosts at either end. A simple meal had been set out, a bowl of soup and some hard bread that had been filled with many variants of seed. They ate in relative silence before Mrs Vanda broke the mood.
“So Sol where do you come from, I’ve only seen people from Kalga woods with you hair colour.
“Kalga woods? Uh no, I’m a traveller, I’m not even from this continent, still not sure how I wound up outside of your village.” He laughed it off, not a single word he’d said was a lie.
“Poor child your parents must be worried sick.” The woman was showing undo concern for him. Sol shook his head in a dismissive manner, he knew his parents had never really cared for him; it was what led him to despair in his former life.
“Jill, don’t bother the lad, can’t you tell he’s a dunce?” The old man chuckled.
“Shut it old man I’m smarter than you.” Sol returned the retort with practiced ease.
“That so, well we’ll see tomorrow.” The old man sneered with a look of triumph
“Telmin, don’t antagonise the boy.” Mrs Vanda admonished. They settled into a slow rhythmic discussion. Sol would constantly ask questions about the geography and culture which they’d answer in one way or another the old man making sure to throw a barbed comment into the mix every now and then, to which Sol responded with full vigour.
He was tired that night, the shock of his earlier revelation seeming somewhat numbed. He wasn’t in a fantasy world, or maybe he was just in a fantasy world without magic. Perhaps they had a different name for magic. It didn’t matter to him, the only reason he was thinking of it was because he couldn’t sleep properly on the straw mattress they’d given him.
They were a kind couple he had to admit that, they were always warm and welcoming even if the old man got on his nerves. He felt comfortable with them even after only a day; it felt natural slipping into the household. Looking up at the ceiling he stretched out his hand. There was no magic… Sol knew well enough he’d never make it as a swordsman, he didn’t have the fortitude and he didn’t like the idea of spending his whole life being a merchant either. He had promised himself that he’d avoid the despair and drudgery of everyday life when he died. He wanted to change the world, make something great, and see real wonders. This world was so un-developed maybe he could start there, become a revolutionary inventor? No he had no idea how to go about that so what were the other options… become a fighter, a leader, marry into royalty or revolutionise the kingdom? No each one was more preposterous than the last. But if the kingdom was so under-developed maybe they just hadn’t discovered magic yet, perhaps he could do it, become the first mage their world had ever seen! He felt a smile creep over his lips. Sol knew enough about physics and energy to help him in the principals, but if this new world followed standard protocol then he’d need to raise his intelligence, maybe buy a staff and a wizard’s hat… he grinned even wider. He had a plan, now it was just a matter of putting it into action.
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“I told you old man I can count.” Sol declared glaring at the old coot.
“What’s three add four?” Vanda questioned
“Seven.” Sol returned, un-amused
“Count to thirty.”
“One, two, three…”
“Okay, Forty minus, eighteen.”
“Twenty-two.”
“Fine, can you read and write?” The old man sighed laying down his notepad. Sol nodded; He’d already confirmed they used the same reading and writing style as earth English, though in mathematics they preferred to use roman numerals. He smirked at the old man.
“Fine, maybe you’re just an idiot savant.” The old man grudgingly conceded.
“Hmm.” Sol grumbled staring at the man. He pushed a small booklet into Sol’s hands.
“This booklet has all the merchandise I have recorded and how much it costs to buy it. Don’t get ripped off and whenever you sell something the selling price is double the buying one, people will haggle don’t drop below seventy-five-percent. Mark down all the earnings you make, a quarter of it will be you salary. I’m already feeding and housing you, not gonna give you any more.” The old man snorted crossing his arms.
“Not even clothes?” sol questioned looking down at the kilt he was still wearing.
“Nope, you should be able to earn enough for that in a couple of weeks!” Telmin laughed. Sol glared at him before Mrs Vanda re-entered the store.
“Boys it’s time to visit the temple.” She declared happily moving past them. Vanda rolled his eyes and Sol smiled following after.
“I can pray to the Gods in my own time, I need to make sure this idiot can handle my shop!” the Old Man snapped.
Sol chuckled to himself as they left the shop and entered the little town’s main square turning right and heading to the temple he’d seen the other day. It seemed a crowd has already gathered. A very tall thin young man stood at the head of the congregation behind the pulpit. He had short blonde hair and golden eyes. His skin was pale and he looked somewhat fragile. He was very handsome and it seemed that many young women showed up just for the view. Sol shook his head, wasn’t fair, even reborn into another world he ended up as average, which unfortunately for him this world ‘average’ basically meant the same as ugly. He was never going to get a girlfriend!
With this sorrow in mind he sat down with everyone else cross-legged on the grass.
“The preachers name is Daltas, bit of an airhead if you ask me, no financial sense in becoming a priest.” Telmin huffed.
“People, it is for the sake of the gods we have gathered, Vinma Goddess of earth bless us, allow our crops to grow and let us flourish.” The sermon continued in such a manor, starting with an introduction, a theme, a story, a song and finally a prayer. Sol had just sat there for the last two unsure of what to do. Was it right to pray to a God you didn’t believe in. But maybe Gods were real in this world, or at least would show themselves. Then an idea formed in Sol’s mind. Eventually the mass was over and people began to disperse.
“Hey Old man do you mind if I look around town for a bit to get my bearings?” Sol questioned.
“Fine but, you don’t work you won’t get paid!” the Old man warned shoving hands in his pockets sauntering back to his store.
Sol snorted and made his way in the direction of the priest.
“You’re Daltas right?’ He questioned looking up at the man who was running through the pages of a book, the same one he’d been reading from during the sermon.
“Uh, yeah. Are you the Mr Vanda’s new assistant?” Daltas questioned.
“Yup, my name’s Sol.” he grinned at the priest.
“Ah, It’s good to meet you Sol, My name is Daltas, was there something that you wanted?” Daltas’ manner was friendly but mildly anxious.
“I was curious about the beliefs you hold in this country I would like to learn more.” The priest smiled, a gleaming smile, full of sunlight. Sol felt sick.
“That can be arranged.”
Sol had talked to the priest with the intent of assuaging his ignorance on cultural matters in Zelday and it had quickly escalated to this. The priest quickly rushed him inside the small building that was both his home and the temple, before quickly forcing him into a chair, as he rushed off to the far side of the room. The single room had what looked to be a small stove for cooking, a bed just a few metres away from the stove and a couple of pots that acted as storage, the rest of the room seemed to be taken up by bookshelves. Stretching far and wide all manner of books from fairy tales to ancient histories placed atop and neatly arranged in rows. Sol grinned looking over the work. It could be just what he was looking for.
“Ah here we go.” The priest declared slamming down a heavy tome in front of the Sol. “Let’s see, there are six gods, well three gods and three goddesses. Vinma, who we were praying to today, is the Goddess of harvest and the land, as well as nature and mountains. Murgoth who we pray to in spring is the god of water, birth and healing. Dorstain is the Goddess of flames, war and battle and we pray to her in the summer. Finally Kilna is the Goddess of wind, storms and challenges we prey to her in the winter. There are also the two greater Gods; Aborai God of creation and Sincai God of destruction, we prey to them once a month, on the first Sinday and last Borday.”
After talking to the priest for roughly three hours, though he made it feel more like eight had passed, Sol was able to deduce that this world ran on the same schedule as his old world though the names of the days had changed and instead of months they had seasons each ninety one days long except for winter which was ninety two days and every four years ninety three (It being a leap year). Despite the boredom Sol still considered his chat with Daltas a success after bartering for him to allow Sol to use his library in the evenings. And the cherry on top of the cake was the clear chime he heard strait afterwards.
Intelligence + 3
He grinned, his plan was coming together.
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Lillan
Lillan sat huddled at the side of the road trying to fight of the cold the night brought, without a tent, the skills to make a fire, and the slightest idea of where she was. Clutching a spear to her chest as she stared out into the distant dark wondering exactly what she may have to face in the closing dusk of the night, what horrid battles she’d endure. She had considered abandoning her character but it was one avatar per person, you couldn’t even buy another game to have a retry. Her only hope was to wonder around until she found a town. She had eaten lightly; unable to feel the hunger as anything greater than an ache, yet it still compelled her to eat. She wondered if she’d start loosing weight in game if she didn’t eat. She had managed to increase her endurance and speed while jogging through the wilderness, running all day until the night's cold stopped her from moving, but the entire debacle had caused her to loose three points in intelligence leaving her with eight intelligence points over all, probably due to all her poor decisions. She wasn’t really sure what intelligence was for, but it certainly seemed as if it was harder to think, she was easily distracted and had difficulty remembering things. She didn’t know how the game was doing it but the level of realism was incredible. She wondered what would happen if it fell to zero.
In the end she decided that she would do whatever she could to prevent that from happening, and would keep from making any more inane mistakes. With a sigh she logged off hoping nothing would attack her while she was away from game.
Opening her eyes in the real world and removing her helmet, she cast her gaze around. It sounded like her father was home along with her little sister. Claire began to wheel herself in the direction of the kitchen.
“How goes the game?” her father questioned as she entered.
“I’m having trouble now, but not for much longer, I’ll become the greatest hero the game has ever known.” she declared smiling
“Well if you get the TV contract then you can support me for all I've done.” he smiled grinning.
“I think that’d be a while off.” she laughed.
“What do you think Kate?” She turned to her little sister. The girl’s eyes were fixed blearily upon the television in the corner of the room.
“Then you’d better find a job!” Her father chuckled to himself. “You have physiotherapy for tomorrow anyway so prepare.” He yawned sitting down at the table her little sister joining them. Claire smiled.