Once inside the carriage, Jordan found himself immediately uncomfortable and unsure why. As Rahm and Mercia took seats opposite of Jordan and Catella, he looked around trying to figure out what was wrong. He met the eyes of the mini brat, who was smiling wide in her childish way.

“Did you figure it out yet Aury?”

“Huh?” Jordan stared at her, and looked back to the adults.

Mercia didn’t seem interested, instead checking a small mirror to ensure her pristine visage wasn’t disturbed by the shouting, and Rahm was just lounging unhelpfully.

Jordan looked around frantically, a part of him worried he was about to be the butt end of a joke or prank, but then in a moment of clarity realized what was wrong with this carriage’s interior.

“Is it… is it bigger on the inside?”

That’s just stupid! A carriage that was bigger inside? Why!? But the space between occupants was huge—Rahm could have laid down on his side and had room to spare, or just started break dancing in the middle without worry of hitting anyone. For fuck’s sakes it’s half the sizeofmyfuckingapartment! Jordan… wasn’t handling that part very well.

“Yup! I’m soooo excited! I can’t remember the last time you got to ride a carriage!” The tiny child was bouncing in her seat, invading Jordan’s personal space in that annoying way excitable kids did. “Mother! When was the last time Aury got to go outside?”

Mercia froze briefly, before putting her kit away. She seemed… almost ill at ease with the question. “Er… it would have been around the time that your brother… ehrm”

A look of sadness flashed between mother and child, and Catella interrupted with a tiny, “oh, right.” Then, she cuddled up next to Jordan, wrapping her small arms possessively around him once more. An involuntary squeak of pain came from Jordan and made Catella loosen her grip before she bruised his ribs. The tiny ballistic warhead was far too strong for someone so small.

Silence filled the carriage, and after a minute Jordan was about to ask why they weren’t moving when he noticed motion out the window. His eyes widened at the sight, caught in surprise not at what he saw but at the fact that at no point had he felt the vehicle move. There was no bouncing, no sounds to distract, just a gentle hum from some unknown source, and now finally the visuals catching his eyes.

“I hope today goes well. I want to go out more with Aury.” The tiny koala next to him whined out.

“I know, darling.” Mercia said,”Don’t worry. Your father will be meeting us in the Justiciar’s Court building and… we’ll have this all sorted soon.”

“He’s back?” Catella squeaked.

“He returned from Westhell this morning.” Mercia looked at Jordan oddly as she said that. He raised an eyebrow, but she continued on rather than answer his unspoken question. “He had to rush to town to finish some work so he’d be available.”

“How…” Jordan interrupted, “How likely is it, that something bad could, er… happen?”

The way Catella looked confused at Jordan’s question made it clear she didn’t know the full truth. Mercia however, had transformed her features into stone, clearly working overtime to mask her true feelings on the matter.

“So long as the Justiciar does not find any indication that you can, or would be willing, to cast that ritual again… then we should be able to get you off on most charges, though there will need to be appropriate reparations for the lost artifacts of course.”

Catella’s face reflected the worry Jordan felt within, and she piped up.

“You aren’t going to do it again, are you Aury? Please tell me you won’t do it!” She finished her plea nearly with a shout, tears forming in her eyes. Clearly, she could produce the loathsome liquid as often as Jordan’s new body could.

Jordan… hesitated to answer though. It was the part that scared him most, after all.

Would he cast it again? No, he wouldn’t even try. That was pure stupidity—he knew nothing of magic or rituals or the like. Even with training, there was no possibility he could cast it soon enough to save his real world life.

The problem was the desire. He would be completely lying if he said he didn’t want to cast the spell again. He wanted to go home—no amount of ‘coming to terms’ with his reality was ever going to make him want to choose it over his real one.

Would the Judge be able to see that? How would Jordan explain it if he did? Would they really… kill him over that? What could he—

Catella was crying loudly, bursting out tears as she sobbed uncontrollably. Jordan had forgotten to breathe, and failed to enter his Time-Out zone while he zoned out thinking.

Guilt stabbed at Jordan as he tried to coax the child.

“N-no, Catella, I… I’m not going to cast it again. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, it’s just… there are some things that are, er, not right with me and I’m worried that the spell might be the only way to fix it, you know? But I wouldn’t do it myself, okay? I’d… I’d see if I could find someone who could do it. Legally!”

Whether she knew the full story of what was coming or not, Jordan remembered Mercia telling him that it was this small child that had found her sister in her sorry state. She was likely traumatized about it, and his hesitation to assure her had instead reinforced the idea that the horror would repeat itself.

“B-but… no one can cast i-it. It hurts people. It hurt you! Please don’t do it. Please.” She continued to sob as she tried valiantly to meet Jordan’s eyes through her waterfall of a face.

“Er… no one? Not even the, ah, government or what not?” He looked at Mercia. She’d tried earlier to ‘make it clear in no uncertain terms,’ but surely there was someone who could do it. He just had to ask the Judge in a way that didn’t implicate himself.

“That ritual… well, it’s not the ritual itself so much as its direction that’s at fault. It reaches through the Dark Expanse, and the last time that was ‘Legally’ attempted was almost a hundred years ago by the Slothborn clans. The ritual unleashed an entity they named the Slasher of Dreams upon the world. The destruction it wrought was unseen at first, as it attacked people by invading their dreamscapes, but its ability to tear people apart from the inside out was real enough. It killed thousands before preventative measures were discovered.”

“Pre…ventative measure?” Jordan asked, confused at the word choice. Had they not beaten it?

Mercia picked up on his unspoken confusion, “Yes. The Slasher of Dreams was never defeated. Every protective charm, spell, Skill, or artifact used to stop it failed instantly. The stronger the ward, the easier it seemed to break it! It terrified the nation, attacking sleepers at random, though it prioritized the Slothborn. It was a chaos unlike anything seen since the Second Incursion a millennia ago.”

She shook her head sadly, “It wasn’t until a child, working to create a ward based on the design of the Labyrinth that separates Ausurias, stopped it. By accident no less! She forgot to seal herself in her wards, leaving a direct path to herself through the maze. Only the creature got lost! That should’ve been impossible for a dream denizen. Who ever heard of a nightmare getting lost in a large maze? Time means nothing to creatures of dreams. Thankfully, since then the Slasher of Dreams hasn’t returned, though the Slothborn have yet to recover.”

To Jordan, this sounded like some Freddie-Kruger rip off. And what was with the way she had said skill? It was capitalized in her words. Was this the kind of Fantasy world that had that kind of crap? Regardless, if he took what she said at face value, it meant there wouldn’t be any legal assistance for him. Which meant…

He had to either look for illegal means or try to cast the damn thing himself. Both options would certainly condemn him in court.

Did he really have to give up on going home? It was that or… execution?

One last shred of optimism inside him shouted out that there could be other, unknown ways home. Unfortunately, even if he found a working option—a hidden portal, a god, an artifact, or whatever—there was no hint of a timeline.

If he couldn’t get home soon, the only possible outcome would be a ruined life. And the grave of his mother, because he’d squandered the time he’d been given to see her that one… last… time.

Worst. Isekai. Adventure. Ever. He brooded quietly, trying not to cry. Again.

----------------------------------------

The carriage ride was quiet for some time, but after nearly ten minutes Jordan noticed the outside area transitioned starkly between sprawling buildings and gardens—into a city. It was so jarring, he turned to the others and asked them about it.

“Oh? We just entered the city, that was all.” Mercia ‘helpfully’ answered him.

“Wait, was all the rest of that… was that all, er—” He wasn’t even sure how to phrase it.

“The family Estates? Yes.” She said it so dismissively Jordan was shocked. The motion outside had been fast, faster than he assumed a carriage would go at least. How big was their Estate? It seemed monstrous!

“Tomorrow I can show it to you!” Catella, the endless well of optimism that she was, added to the conversation. “You never really got to see it before, so in a lot of ways you don’t have to worry about not remembering. It’ll be new for you anyway!”

“Ah… sure.” Jordan wasn’t enthused by the idea of being toured around by a potential weapon of small destruction, but his mind was still too wrapped up in turmoil to care.

“Ehem.” Mercia cleared her throat, and when Jordan looked to her to see what the insufferable woman wanted this time, he instead saw her glancing down towards his legs. Jordan cocked his head questioningly before following her gaze. His legs were resting slightly apart as he had been sitting comfortably.

As he noticed that fact, some unknown force shot through his magically reinforced straight postured spine and snapped his legs closed. Catella gave off a muffled laugh as Jordan stared up at the Brat’s mother accusingly.

“Did you just do something to me? Again!?” He was getting real tired of this crap.

“No, that was your own Ability activating, actually. I was just reminding you to use proper etiquette.”

“For how I sit?”

“And, how you speak. Your language has been less than refined. You need to watch that, Young Lady, as you must present yourself perfectly in the courtroom. You know what’s at stake.”

Jordan was close to fuming, but asked a question he really hoped would clarify something.

“Wait, ability? Is that different from a skill? How did this one activate like that? It didn’t feel like the smiling thing.” He could not imagine a Skill about sitting like a damn princess of all things. It was just a little manspreading anyway, he grumbled.

Catella butted in unhelpfully. “You don’t remember Abilities and Skills, Big Sis?”

“She remembers how to breathe and speak, but not how Skills work. Interesting, hehe!” Rahm, probably encouraged by Catella’s unhelpfulness, also butted in, equally unhelpfully.

As the only apparent helpful adult in the carriage, Mercia sighed before answering. “That particular effect you just used was a subset of the Ability Skill—Socialize. It’s called etiquette. It reinforces your Soul Attributes in social situations, and will bolster your ability to act, speak, and hold yourself in polite company.”

“Can you say that in…?” English? I can’t say English? Really!? “Ah, whatever! What’s my soul got to do with the position of my damn legs?”

The blank look Mercia gave him did not speak well of her patience. “You don’t remember Attributes, either? For the fear of the Princes.” She pinched at the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

She looked like she was debating which would be more pleasant—either how best to explain the way the world worked to Jordan, or how badly jumping out the carriage would hurt. Eventually, something flashed across her face. She turned towards Catella.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Catella, darling, you’re still learning much of this yourself, why don’t you explain Attributes and their Derived Characteristics to your Big Sister? She’ll never understand Abilities without the basics first.”

Oh, great! She’s going to turn this into a learning opportunity for both of us! Jordan gloured.

Catella, with far more enthusiasm than Jordan had ever mustered in his life, sat straight up, the perfect little Lady as she nodded affirmatively to the Brats’ mother. She turned back towards Jordan to begin her tiny lecture.

“Um, A-attributes are the…er. They’re what make up the foundation of what we can… do?” She ‘stealthily’ turned an eye towards the adults, hoping for confirmation she was right. Mercia had her stony expression on, but Rahm was giving her four thumbs up, so she continued.

“Yeah! They’re the foundations of what someone can do. Running, jumping, fighting, speaking, everything is based on them. They’re divided into… ah.” She sat there for a moment thinking. To her credit, the way she scrunched up her face was adorable, even to Jordan who did not like kids.

A part of him—probably some aspect that would have awakened in the impossible event that he’d become a father—was rooting for her. The rest of him looked blankly between the encouraging Rahm and Catella.

“Body, Mind, ah, Soul. Oh, and Core. That’s one of them, but also kind of separate. They’re all based on their assor… asser… groupings! They’re based on their groupings of similar Attributes. So, like, your Body is made up of your strength, and your agility, and your reflexes, and your constit-nution. Appearance too if you count the special stuff with it. Not everyone does. Mind is made up of intellect… cunnings… clare… ahhhh…”

Silence filled the carriage. Catella cleared her throat and ‘smoothly’ continued as though she hadn’t forgotten half way through. How many damn Attributes were there?

“Then there’s the Derived Attributes. Those are usually… mixes? I think? Usually between one of the main three and your Core. It’s stuff like… Parry! Or… evasion? Ward? Stuff to resist magic, or flexing hard enough that swords bounce right off ya!” She pumped small fists in the air, full of feisty energy.

Rahm was giving a double clap while Mercia politely nodded. Catella, exhausted after having to give her diminutive lecture, flopped back dramatically before scrambling back into a Ladylike position. Albeit a far less stressed out version. She hadn’t even gotten half way through, but based on her numbers… there could be twenty different Attributes. With an unknown number of the derived stuff. No wonder she couldn’t remember! Jordan would need a damn list to have any chance in hell of doing so himself.

“What about skills then? Or, ah, abilities? How does that all work?” His mind was still clunking along trying to piece everything together. His question filled Catella’s small face with panic, but it was Mercia who jumped in to continue, saving his ‘little sister’ from needing to continue her teaching.

“Abilities represent the actions that you have practiced and honed through training, education, Experience.” Jordan turned back to pay attention to her.

“Abilities like Socialize, enhance or modify an Attribute during their related action. For something like Socialize, that would almost always be one of your Soul Attributes, like Charisma. But it can vary in special circumstances.”

“Huh, sounds kind of… er, never mind. Please continue.” Jordan was about to say it sounded a bit game-like, but… wasn’t that just how fantasy worlds worked? He needed a manual.

Mercia nodded and continued. “As I recall, you have a number of different Abilities yourself, though you are a bit… behind due to the realities of your upbringing. Regardless, in the past, Abilities were actually more numerous. The forty we have today are the efforts of condensing what we now call Sub-set Abilities. In truth, Socialize is an Ability Grouping. It wasn’t even always called that! Its old name was Savoir Faire, I believe. Polite conversations, negotiation, etiquette, even formal dancing, there are many different Sub-set—”

She… kept going. For a while.

Jordan was not tracking her words. Even in the least bit. He was struggling, desperately, to fight off his natural response to nod off when being lectured at, and she seemed to just carry on forever.

Honestly—to him it sounded like ‘Abilities’ were what he would just call skills to begin with. Your skill at socializing impacts how charismatic you were, or whatever, he ruminated. Sub-setting and groupings made… no sense. Unfortunately, the Brat’s mother continued, ignoring the look of overwhelmed despair in Jordan’s eyes.

“Beyond that, you have Skills. They’re learned under the umbrella of an associated Ability, or off the backs of other Techniques or stations, such as within Guilds. There’s even a few lines that can learn Skills off of the Special Attributes of Appearance, Aptitude, Luck, and Bloodline. Skills are typically activatable, but a few can be learned as permanent enhancements, or have their effects ‘locked in,’ so to speak, but that can be very dangerous. A few examples of what I mean would be—”

Oh my god—I shouldn’t have asked, Jordan silently wailed. She continued, oblivious to his empty stare. Or perhaps because of it. Minutes of rambling later…

“Lastly, there are Talents. These are inborn feats that come from more than just yourself. Bloodline powers are the most ready example. They’re inherited through your lineage and for most stay relatively stable between generations. But those, like yourself, with a higher Bloodline Rank will inherit a few of their parent’s Skills as Talents, though it’s almost always going to be permanent Skills inherited this way. The way you smiled yesterday would be an example. That Talent functions not unlike my own permanent Skill, and allows you to smile in a reassuring manner. It helps you put people at ease and hide your own feelings. For me it is one of my more powerful Skills. For you, it is a Talent, and… well, never mind that for now, I suppose”

Jordan sighed, longing for a day where he could be free of her unceasing cascade of expository crap, but then widened his eyes. He suddenly knew that she had dropped the last sentence because of… guilt? She felt guilty over something. For the Brat inheriting her smile? What the flying fuck is this? Was that another… skill? Did he have—

“Talents can also come from the stations you take up, titles which are gained or lost based on your reputation, or powerful Artifacts that decide to share their power with their wielders. There is also, lest we forget, the Talents that come to you when you formulate a—”

“Wait-wait-wait! Stop, please!” Jordan tried to get her to pump the damn breaks already.

“Yes darling?”

“Er, I just… felt something?”

“Oh?” She looked oddly suspicious at Jordan. Did she suspect what skill he’d used? Perhaps… he breathed in anxiously and felt a rush of understanding begin to fill him—

Only for it to shut off in an instant as Mercia’s face turned stony again. He blinked in surprise. Had she… cut off his skill?

“That would be your Skill [Discern Intentions], dear. I would ask that please not use that on me, if you can help it.”

He stared at her blankly. The skill name was translating oddly, just stuttering in his mind, like his ability wasn’t even able to touch it. Yet he could still read it just fine when he put more focus on it, breathing a bit laboriously in the process. He went to pull at his hair, but a tsk from the Brat’s mother caused his muscles to stop before he disheveled his appearance. Was… was that his skill or hers?

“Anyway, as I was saying about Talents—”

“Wait! Dam—er, dang it. How are those even different from skills and what not? This all just sounds categorical. Was this… intent discerning glance a skill or a talent? How is my smile different from your smile?”

He cringed internally as the translation of the skill sounded odd in their language, a bit more flowery really, but he was fed up with the endless drawl she’d been spewing. He wanted to hear about talents being awesome, or something! And they were starting to sound dangerously disappointing. He had been so let down by his Time-Out ability-skill thing that he wanted a new potential cheat power. You can’t be brought into a new world without one!

“The only real difference,” Mercia answered him, “is that you were able to learn it without any of the foundational Skills it would normally require. If it were a traditional Skill, you’d never be able to activate it without that base, and it could take a great deal of energy for each use. Even learning it without proper preparation could have fractured parts of your Pattern, and it carries all the… problems permanent Skills have.”

“Is it any… stronger?” Jordan pleaded.

“No, dear, you merely inherited the fruits of my labor, is all.” She answered him, almost… bitterly?

Talents are learned… without their normal requirements? That’s all? Mother fucker! Jordan grimaced. This is bullshit! Why even separate them then!?

Rahm cleared his throat and nudged at Mercia. She glanced at him as he said, “You forgot one type of Talent.”

Mercia winced, glared, and then sighed while turning back towards Jordan.

“There are also Birth Talents, I suppose. They are, technically speaking, separate from Bloodline Talents. I apologize for not mentioning them, but I believed the distinction was rather pedantic and I was trying to keep the lecture short.” She turned back to regard Rahm critically.

That was short!?

Rahm lifted his hands up defensively and said, “Well, sorry! But I thought Aury’s was always really nice. She should know about it too, so it doesn’t scare her if it activates.” Mercia paused and tsked at that.

Was this it? Jordan’s heart began to beat excitedly.

In all honesty, most of the lore dump about attributes and skills and all that had just washed over him since it had little context to anything he could visualize. While it was weird this world’s magic seemed kind of game like, he dismissed it thinking that was probably just his own bias.

This though? This had to be a cheat ability! It had to be. There had to be something good about coming to this world! And that four-armed guy hadn’t perked up for anything else.

“Hmm, well everyone develops their first Birth Talent as children, and gain an additional one as teenagers and a final one as an adult. They reflect your personality, drives, and wishes. They can be… odd, at times. As for you, Aureliana, your Birth Talent is—[Fading Memory of Dream's Reflection].”

Jordan let that sink in. He was once again caught off guard by the way she said the words of the skill, er, talent. It was definitely not the same language she had been speaking. He was sure of it! But it sounded so familiar? However, that wasn’t as important as—

“Ah… what does it… do?” He was still a bit distracted by whatever language thing was going on, but he was also worried.Fading memory of dream's reflection? That didn’t sound… well, it didn’t sound useful.

Mercia nodded and said, “Your Birth Talent allows you to experience the contents of a book, or written work, within your dreams.”

Jordan stared at her waiting for her to continue. She didn’t.

Silence covered the carriage once more.

Rahm, Catella, and Mercia all looked… well normal about that, but Jordan supposed they knew about the Talent. Jordan, however, was not pleased.

“That’s… that’s all? I can dream… about books?”

“Well… yes.” Mercia looked taken aback. “It’s always been your favorite Skill, darling. Most Birth Talents develop to fill a need or reflect the desires of a person. You’ve always loved reading, and your Talent…” She trailed off. Jordan’s face had practically fallen off in his disappointment.

The Brat’s birth skill was just a shitty TV knockoff! Jordan was really, really not happy about this. But maybe… maybe there was more to it? Or he was just desperately grasping.

“Can it… I don’t know, can it teach me things? Like, could I read a manual about something and then experience it overnight and learn it better? Or can I dream about a book I have but haven’t read?”

“Um, well… no. It only lets you experience a written work through the lens of a dream. I believe you once described it as living in a play, but during the dream you forget you’re anyone except the actress. As for dreaming about books you haven’t read? No, you’ve complained multiple times about how books you haven’t finished will always end at the same point you did, or cut out in parts you’ve begun to forget. You can’t dream about what you don’t know.”

Oh my god this is so fucking useless! Why did I think, for even one shitty little moment, that I would get something good!? Jordan groaned as his face fell into his hands.

“Really? That’s all? Do I have any useful skills? Can I shoot fireballs or use weapons? What about my small ball time? Er, projectile time? Ah… Printing advertisement… time?” Oh for fuck’s sakes, Bullet isn’t a word for them either?

“I, ah, I don’t know what you’re trying to say, darling. All Skills have a use. Fighting is not the only path one can walk. While your Skills do lend themselves towards casting and magic, to my knowledge you haven’t learned any destructive Skills due to your previous sensitivity towards Essence.”

“Then what do I have!?”

“Well,” she looked uncomfortable. Maybe it’s taboo to know so much about another person’s Skills? “To the best of my knowledge you mostly have Skills in relation to your Specialization in Ritualism since they only need to have Essence running through them at the end. Since many of the supporting Skills can be used without internal energies, it was a good choice for you. Past that… you sculpted miniatures and picked up a couple Lore Skills, hoping to catch up later once you were healed.”

“M-miniatures!?” Jordan shrieked in protest. He didn’t care to be shrieking, but seriously!? Miniatures!?

“Yeah! You’re really good at it Big Sis!” Catella was bouncing next to him again. Jordan turned to look at her, but unfortunately that invited her to continue.

“You made tons of them! And we would have parties or pretend to do battle with them! You had a couple games that they use in the Academy that we played too! We can still play, right Aury?”

Her eyes were the size of dinner plates and tugged at his damn heart string. That… that wasn’t fair! How can any man look into eyes like that and say no?

“Catella, please stop bothering your sister about—”

“It’s fine. We can play, but you’ll probably have to teach me.”

Mercia didn’t look pleased at being interrupted—which pleased Jordan immensely—and Catella cheered before playfully sticking her tongue out at her mother. She erupted into giggling when, surprisingly, Mercia stuck her tongue out in response.

Two things caught Jordan’s attention from that. First, proof that the Brat’s mother could be anything more than a hard-lined bitch was filled away for future contemplation. Second, their tongues.

“Ahh! W-what? Why are your tongues so long!?”

They both looked at Jordan like he was crazy. Which, to be fair, was probably accurate.

“Huh? What do you mean?” asked the long-tongued demon child.

“Your tongues are like, 15 centimeters long!” Wait, that wasn’t what I tried to say! I wanted to say half a foot! Oh, fucking HELL.

The tiny brat giggled, “It’s the Devil’s Tongue Aury! All our kind has it. See? Nmmmmm” She stuck her tongue out before laughing more. “Yours is the same, ya know!”

Jordan stared at the tiny brat before looking back towards Mercia. She shrugged unhelpfully.

Jordan shook his head in disbelief before… well, fuck it, right? When in fantasy Rome and all that. He slowly stuck out his new body’s tongue and stared in shock as the damn thing kept going. Like a tape measure going out of a control it just stretched out filling his vision.

It really was half a foot long. While it looked perfectly normal, the moment it hit its limit it stretched just a tiny bit further, tapering at the end in a very… well, devilish way Jordan supposed. The name—it appeared—was accurate.

Experimentally, he moved his tongue about, and while it wasn’t prehensile or anything— thankfully—it was more flexible than his own tongue had been. In an unexpected twist, he found himself bringing his tongue back and up to touch the tip of his nose. His youngest sister had tried to get him to do that when he was younger. She’d be laughing her ass off if she saw me doing this, that’s for sure!

“Haha! What are you doing Aury?”

Jordan turned back towards the giggling kid. Oh, you like that, do ya? Well… watch this!

He folded his tongue into a taco, curled it up like laffy taffy—hell he even made it do the worm. All the while, the tiny little brat was losing her shit laughing, and was soon joined by the booming tones of Rahm chuckling. At least before he started coughing again. Even Mercia was smiling a bit, despite herself.

Jordan slurped his tongue back in and said, “Whew. That’s some gross shit though, isn’t it?” He laughed as the child froze up. He really did have a bad habit of cursing.

Oh fucking shit I forgot again! He winced, awaiting the inevitable scolding.

“Watch your tongue, Young Lady!” Mercia snapped at him, before the whole carriage went silent, and Jordan… couldn’t stop himself.

He nodded, stuck out his tongue, and watched it obediently. Rahm nearly died laughing.

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