It feels great to be walking through a town while being, you know, person-sized. And also just walking on two legs in general. Regaining a sliver of my humanity is nice. It’s not totally the same, though. My bare feet clink against the road, which had been mildly annoying while walking through the forest and dirt roads that led to Bluevine, but now that I’m on cobblestone, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells.

Well. Glass.

Trying not to think about how one wrong step might cause me to break off a foot, fall, and shatter into a thousand pieces, I focus instead on the small city we’re walking through. I hadn’t been paying much attention when we first passed through town, somewhat preoccupied with my and Noli’s mortality, but now I have an opportunity to soak up the sights.

The first thing I notice is a lack of humans. Plenty of dwarves, elves, and orcs around, and a scattering of other species I’ve seen from time to time as well, such as the cat-like felis and grey-skinned damphyr. No scaly dracid, however, or cambions, like Zyneth. Even so, he doesn’t draw many looks. In fact, people are glancing toward me more often than my companion.

“Are homunculi rare?” I ask Zyneth. He frowns at my signs. I heave a mental sigh and get out the slate and chalk. Noli was still working with me on their alphabet, but that’s only half the battle. Since everything gets translated to English in my brain, I’m not just learning to write their alphabet, but I have to learn every word in their language from scratch, too. It’s been slow going. Signs have come to me way faster—maybe it’s an acting thing. I don’t know. Long story short, I try to avoid writing when I can.

I awkwardly scribble out the word for “homunculi” and manage to get the rest of my point across.

“Ah,” he says once I’ve finished. “No, they’re not particularly rare—although they’re most often leased to the wealthy or owned by businesses, so it’s not surprising there wouldn’t be many in a town as small as this.”

The words owned and leased stir a discomfort in my soul. Rationally, I know other homunculi are artificial automatons: this world’s version of robots. They’re not people—they’re not like me. But it’s hard to shake that disquiet.

“Of course,” Zyneth adds, “that’s unlikely why they’re looking at you. A homunculus made of glass is nearly unheard of. For obvious practical reasons.”

Yeah, you wouldn’t want your delivery monkey to have its arms break off trying to pick up a heavy package.

“Just stay close to me and no one will bother you,” Zyneth says. “They probably assume…” He trails off, probably thinking better of completing that thought.

But I can read between the lines: everyone probably assumes I’m his servant. Great.

We make it to the town’s square, where the telepad to other cities is located. For a moment I have a visceral reaction to seeing that stone pedestal; the last time I’d used one I’d been running for my life. Simultaneously, I’d been frightened of being caught Between and forced to confront the predator. I try to push the feeling away. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The predator is still trapped in my inventory, after all. Nothing is waiting for me Between. Even so, my soul aches at the memory, and I touch my core.

Zyneth checks the schedule with a teller.

“There won’t be another Miasmere alignment until tomorrow morning,” the dwarf tells him. “But you can secure a pass now if you like.”

“Please,” Zyneth says.

The dwarf sets down a flat, golf-ball sized stone with a strange rune carved into it. “Five silvers.” He looks at me.

“Ah.” Zyneth pulls out a pouch and produces a string of ten coins from within it. He sets the whole string down. “We’ll be needing two, actually.”

The dwarf’s gaze sweeps around Zyneth, as if expecting someone else to be there, and it takes until that moment for it to finally hit me—the teller had been expecting me to pay. And he’d probably been expecting me to hold onto that token, too. Because I’m the manservant.

Zyneth should have skimped him and just paid for one.

Still, the dwarf doesn’t object as he swipes the coins off the table and puts a second token down in their place.

“A pleasure,” Zyneth says, taking one and passing the other to me.

“Is this a ticket?” I ask as we head away. Last time we’d used the telepad, I hadn’t really been paying attention to the specifics of how it worked.

Again, however, Zyneth shakes his head at my signs. This is quickly getting old. Instead I wiggle the stone token we got and sign, “What is?”

“It allows passage between linked telepads,” Zyneth says. “Though I assume you already surmised that.”

“Why two?” I sign.

That much at least he understands. “The telepad requires one token for every living being that passes through. Nonliving matter can be transported easily enough, which is why he’d originally given me one. Typically, homunculi and other spelled servants can accompany their caster without issue. There’s a possibility you could pass through without requiring a token as well, but given you have a soul, I believed it was best not to risk it. We purchased extra tokens for you and Noli last time as well.”

Not risking it sounds great to me. And the idea that something on this planet recognizes me as a living person—even if that something is only a teleportation spell—is kind of comforting. Kind of.

“I suppose we might as well find an inn,” Zyneth says. “Shame. We could have stayed with Noli and Rezira another night, if we’d known the next alignment with Miasmere wasn’t until tomorrow. Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. Come, we should be able to find a reputable place near here, the ones closest to a telepad square are often the most expensive yet most comfortable…”

But I’d stopped in my tracks. A person is standing at the side of the road, watching me. At least, I assume they’re watching me. They’re a head shorter, and appear to be made of stone, with lines of red like cracks in volcanic rock threaded over their skin. A large black marble sits where their eyes should be, and a hole through their chest burns with the flickering light of a fire.

I don’t need to ask for a Check to know this is a homunculus.

It turns and begins to walk away.

“Wait!” I close the gap and grab their wrist, and they stop. I’m not even sure why I do it. If I had a heart right now it’d be beating out of my chest. My soul feels tight. Anxiety is crawling through me like static. What am I doing? It’s not rational. But I have to know—

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

[Spell: Homunculus]

[Type: Stone and Fire]

[Level: 10]

[Attack: 20]

[HP: 100/100]

[Mana: 0/0]

No name. No Class or Species or Role. A fear I hadn’t realized I’d had uncoils inside of me.

“What are you doing?” a woman snaps. I look down to notice her: a halfling standing by the homunculus’s side. “Let go of it!”

I release the homunculus, snapping my hand away as if burned. The creature continues to stand there passively as if nothing had happened at all. “I’m sorry,” I sign. What was I thinking? “I’m sorry.”

The halfling stares at me like I’ve grown a second head—or maybe just like my head is made of glass. “Stay back.”

“I didn’t mean…” I stop when I notice her watching my hands. Not to read, but with an expression somewhere between confusion and fear.

“My apologies,” Zyneth says, slipping in front of me. “I did not mean to disrupt your shopping.”

I finally notice the basket of books in the homunculus’s hand—the one I hadn’t grabbed. It all clicks: the halfling was out shopping, and her homunculus was doing the heavy lifting.

“Watch your construct,” the halfling snaps. “It tried to attack us!”

“A simple misunderstanding, I assure you,” Zyneth says.

“Its hands are twitching—do you see that?” she says, continuing to glare at me. “It’s malfunctioning. You shouldn’t take it out in public when it’s like this! Irresponsible.” She narrowed her eyes. “What type is that anyway? How garish.”

Zyneth bows his head in apology. “Again, I sincerely apologize. We will leave you be. Come,” he says to me, nudging me back. “Let’s be off.”

I let Zyneth guide me away, too overwhelmed to think of a response. I’m not sure if I’m offended or relieved or—or damn it all, I’m just confused with myself. I know other homunculi are just spells. I know I’m the exception. So why did seeing one shock me like that? Why did I feel so… bothered? I don’t even know what that was.

Zyneth doesn’t say anything as he hurries me away. I can’t tell if he’s blushing beneath the blood-red tone of his skin, but I can tell he’s a little flustered. Embarrassed, maybe? Is he embarrassed by me?

My offense boils away. Of course he is. I just made a complete scene. The halfling isn’t to blame for treating me like a servant—no more than that teller had been. They didn’t have any reason to think I was anything other than a mindless construct brought to life with Zyneth’s magic. Stupid. That was stupid of me.

“I’m sorry,” I sign again. “I don’t know why I did that.”

He waves off my apology. “No, no, don’t. I imagine this all must be… somewhat overwhelming. I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you better for what to expect.”

I thought of what the halfling said. “Does no one recognize signs? Is it that uncommon?”

“Somewhat,” Zyneth admits. “It’s most common in Valenia South. The primary inhabitants there speak exclusively through Sign Language. Though even if most people don’t speak it themselves, they should be able to recognize it for what it is.”

“She thought I was broken.”

Zyneth frowns. “Yes, well. I can’t entirely blame her. Seeing a person sign is quite different from seeing a homunculus sign. Homunculi cannot communicate. They have no soul or mind of their own. Tell me, if a direwolf were to start barking at you, would your first thought be that it was speaking a language?”

They have direwolves here?

Some half-forgotten instinct makes me raise my hand to my head—to rub my temple or bury my face in my hands, I’m not sure. The moment the glass in my hands tinks against my head, I realize what I’m doing and stop. I’m tired of not being seen as human. Even just being recognized as alive would be a step up. “I wish I could just talk to them.” I look down at the slate I’m still carrying. “Or write better.”

Zyneth gives me a sympathetic look. “I can’t imagine the frustration. But you know, there may be a…” He pauses.

“What?” I ask. “What?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up,” Zyneth says. “I don’t mean to offend, but sometimes I suspect you’ve angered a god or two. This solution could go either way, and you have cosmically bad luck.”

Tell me about it. “What is it?” I ask anyway.

“There’s translators,” Zyneth says. “They work with most spoken and signed languages. I’m not precisely sure how the magic functions, but I believe it operates on intent. I’m not certain it would work with your native language, considering it doesn’t exist here, but it might be worth a shot.”

I suddenly recall Noli mentioning a translator when we’d just left Trenevalt’s cabin. That was nearly two months ago, but it feels like two years. “That would be amazing!”

“Of course,” Zyneth adds, “your first language would only be one of two potential barriers that might prevent it from functioning for you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. The translator not recognizing English sounds like a big enough blocker on its own, but I still have to try.

Zyneth makes a gesture that encompasses all of me. “It is the same issue with regards to the teleportation token. We purchased a token for you because it was best to be safe. You do have a soul, after all. However, when we worked together to defeat the predator, the interaction between our magic was somewhat different, if you recall.”

He’s right. Rezira had tried using her school of magic—healing magic—on me, and it hadn’t done a thing. Meanwhile, Zyneth’s artificer magic had worked to top off my mana tanks. And that was because healing magic is intended to be cast on living things, while artificer magic is used on inanimate objects.

Which means that, at least according to their magic system, I fall into the latter category.

“The translator only works on living things?” I ask.

“There’s never been an opportunity to use it on anything else,” Zyneth replies. “Which is why I am uncertain if this would work or not. I don’t know that it has ever been tried.”

Well, I’m just a walking “First!” factory, aren’t I? But I don’t see the harm in giving it a shot. “Where can we find one?”

“Miasmere,” Zyneth says. “I know of at least one shop we could stop by. We could take a look around here as well, but they’re rather expensive, so I doubt anyone in a remote town such as this would be selling any.”

The mention of price makes me uncomfortable. I really appreciate Zyneth paying for everything, and he already confessed to being well off, so it probably isn’t a financial strain for him, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like feeling indebted, even if I know he wouldn’t see it that way.

“How much?” I ask.

“A few hundred…” He must have figured out why I’m asking, because he stops himself. “Please don’t concern yourself with the cost. Besides, we won’t be paying for anything if it doesn’t work, anyway.”

And by we he means him, because I won’t be paying for anything regardless.

Damn. Should I get a job in this world? I mean, I still intend to go home, but how long is that going to take?

And Zyneth isn’t the only one I owe. Attiru’s map shop was destroyed because of me. I should help them. And then there’s Tetara and Saru, the two survivors of the predator’s attack, though I know money won’t bring back their dead friends.

I suppress a shudder at the memory, and touch a hand to my core once more.

Zyneth grabs us an inn near the central square, and I’m greeted with a weird sense of deja vu as we’re directed to our room. He’d bought us a room last time, too—although now there’s not the looming sense of doom hanging over my shoulders as we’re shown inside.

Zyneth stops dead in the doorframe.

“What?” I ask, trying to peek around.

“Ah, er, I am still getting used to them identifying you as a homunculus as well,” Zyneth says, his shoulders hunching up with… embarrassment? “I had just assumed… Well, it was my fault, really, for not specifying.”

“What?” Impatient, I push past him into the room and look around.

I don’t get it. It’s a normal room. Like the one I’d stayed at in Harrowood, there’s a desk, a trunk, a window, and a bed.

One bed.

Oh.

Zyneth clears his throat uncomfortably. “I’ll go back and ask for a different room. One with two beds this time.”

Right—of course the innkeep wouldn’t book a bed for the automaton. I would be irritated if I wasn’t starting to get used to this treatment. But hey, I guess if it saved Zyneth a few coins, I’m not complaining.

“No,” I sign. “It’s okay. One will work.”

Zyneth’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ah, well, I mean… I’m not sure if—the bed is rather small—it seems that would be… impractical.” He glances away, flustered.

I stare at him in confusion. What? Why’s he acting so embarrassed? And is that a blush I see? What did I say? It’s just a bed. We don’t need two, if…

It hits me like a ton of bricks.

Oh fuck! “No, no, I meant, I don’t need a bed!” I hurriedly add, haphazardly scribbling on the slate to try to get the point across. “I don’t sleep. I’ll just, I can wait outside, or—”

“Oh,” Zyneth says, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Yes, of course, that makes more sense.” He passes a hand over his face, then looks at me, regaining his composure. “Right. Well, I think I will go… find dinner. Then jump out a window, perhaps.”

I am seriously considering doing the same.

“Well, please make yourself comfortable,” Zyneth says, hastily backing out of the room. “I will be down in the pub. Feel free to…” Even he seems to realize he’s rambling. “...do things. I’ll return within the hour.” He closes the door, his footsteps beating a hasty retreat down the hall.

I stand there for a moment, waiting for the mortification to finally kill me. When that doesn’t happen, I slump against the door, gaze returning to the stupid lone bed.

“Fuck,” I sign at the empty room.