Contingency Journal One - In the beginning
My name is Jordan Fredericks, and this is my first oficial journal entry (the preamble doesn't count, okay?). Now, I’m not the type to make a diary, so I’m keeping this as short and to the point as I can.
If you haven’t read my preamble and you have no idea what’s going on, switch back to it and catch up.
This entry will cover my first three days.
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Alright, in the beginning I woke up with what I thought was the worst hangover in history.
Thing was, I was sure I hadn’t been drinking the night before. It was a damn worknight after all! But as I lay there half dreaming about muffins and libraries, I quickly realized I wasn’t even in my bed. I panicked at first, thinking of some strange things. Things were fuzzy.
And all the while something was prowling in the back of my mind. It felt like an animal stalking my sanity, and the only thing that was protecting me were… emotions. I didn’t know what they were at the time, and I didn’t figure it out until much later.
Looking for answers, I saw a gleam next to the bed. I’d thought it was a phone flashing a notification, and came to the conclusion that I’d, er, gotten lucky so to speak. Don’t blame me, there was a giant shape next to me, so I thought I wasn’t alone!
But my body wasn’t working right. It was slow and ponderous, and the whole thing felt like a phantom sensation I was sinking into. When I tried to reach out, I fell short and couldn’t reach. It didn’t make any sense! Frustrated, I was scratching at my face thinking, when I realized something important.
My beard was gone. It… meant a lot to me, okay? My last conversation with my father before he took his life was about beards. It’s stupid to care so much about hair, I know.
But I started crying. The thing is, I don’t cry. I don’t!
I… walked out of my father’s funeral to keep from crying. I thought that men shouldn’t cry, you know?
Anyway, I got mad and hit the shape next to me but it turned out it was a pile of pillows and I’d been alone in a stranger's bed the whole time.
That was when a monster entered the room.
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Black eyes with red pupils, spiraling horns on the sides of her head, and an obvious French maid costume. At the sight of her, I pretty much went comatose. In my defense, I learned later on that was a sign I’d strained my Stability too much and taken a Trauma. That’s all, er, mechanics though and it’ll be awhile before that gets explained.
Regardless, as I laid there waiting to die, the creature approached, and I caught a whiff of her. She, ah, smelled like Mountain Dew.
Obviously, I thought she was a cosplayer who’d spilt soda on herself. I desperately tried to justify to myself that I was being pranked, especially when the maid started talking in a foreign language. It almost sounded like I could understand, but all the while that damn Animal prowled in my mind while my emotions fought to keep me alive. And I never even noticed.
Once I chased off the maid with a pillow strike, I was looking around when something smacked me in my face.
A braid of hair.
So… in short, I found I was in the body of a small Brat. That went about as well as you can imagine.
At the sound of my screaming, two people entered the room. The first was a woman, covered in jewels with black hair and a gothic-Victorianesque dress. Her hair color was the same as the Brats I’d become, and she treated me with a familiar and intimate air. Her eyes were the inverse of the maid before though, red with black pupils.
The man with her had four arms, already coming across as some fantasy bullcrap, but he looked like a mad scientist version of the Dude Lebowski! Large lab-coat covering shorts and a stained T-Shirt. He was balding on top of his head but the rest of his hair stuck out like white spikes. He was super-old looking, with really dark skin. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, however, as he never took off a pair of sunglasses he wore.
The two of them fussed over me for a while, getting into an argument in a language that was slowly coming into focus in my mind, until eventually the women hugged me. That doesn’t sound like it should have done much, but the Animal in my brain went ballistic.
Then everything went crazy fuzzy fast. I don’t remember what happened, for the most part, but I do know that the old man drew out some weird invisible sword and stabbed me with it.
Yeah, it hurt… but the Aberration devouring my brain died. So… net positive?
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I woke up the next day with a jump. Scared the hell out of the women who’d been waiting at my side the whole time. I quickly sussed out she was the Brat’s mother, and that whatever had been going on messing with my brain was done and over with. With it gone, I could actually understand the women too.
Talking, however? That took a few tries.
When I finally got it working we managed to have a conversation, and, ah, the first thing I asked about was… how hot I was. Listen, I had a lot going on and was working through a priority list, okay?
Turns out the Brat I’d become was what was called a Demonkin, and apparently ‘our’ family run at a high temperature (not all Demonkin do). I’m still not solid on the exact amount (everyone here uses the damn metric system) but I’m pretty sure it's somewhere around 115 degrees or so. Nothing huge, but there was something I need to emphasize here.
Even though I’d woken up in this new body it didn’t feel like my own. I could feel the difference in heat, and it was incredibly distracting as I felt constantly feverish! It wouldn’t be the only dissonance between me and the Brat that caused problems, then and now.
Talking with the women, I found out that Demonkin are split between the various Sin types (as far as I found out, they don’t refer to it with Christian mythology), with ‘our’ kind being a variant on the Proudborn. I tried to suss out more information, but she quickly verified that I… didn’t ‘remember’ what had happened. She talked about why that might have been before she suddenly went silent and went away?
It’s a fuzzy moment. One of the ones that makes me worried that I’m missing something. A memory that was… lost? I still don’t know for sure.
Next thing I knew she was talking to the maid who’d returned. They rudely talked about me like I wasn’t even there (the Brat’s mother referred to me as ignorant, which was rude) before discussing how I was ‘triggered’ and what to do if it happened again.
After that, she finally told me what the hell happened. The Brat had performed some sort of forbidden summoning ritual, and wouldn’t you know it, now I’m here. This is the best smoking gun I’ve seen, and so far it’s my running theory on how I got here.
I did find out though, why the Brat did it. She had a heart condition similar… to my own sisters, in fact. She got scared that she couldn’t cure it (Holy magic and Demonkin don’t mix) and tried to bring a solution to her. It failed, I got brought in, her heart gave out, and somehow she got a new one. The Brat’s mother didn’t want to talk about the details just yet, so I had to wait until later to figure out the answer there.
The big take away however… was that now that I was the Brat I was apparently going to be held responsible for the whole forbidden ritual thing. Talk about bullcrap!
Desperate, I broke the cardinal rule I, er, remembered from similar stories. I tried to tell her that I was Jordan and not the Brat. Unfortunately… I couldn’t.
I can’t say my name out loud. I’ve tried, many times. It never works.
So she accused me of having a damn split personality and then went silent again. Fuzzy moment? I don’t know.
The maid returned with some tea, which ended with me learning two important details. First, the Brat’s mother was a Duchess (I’m just grateful not to be a princess, okay?), and as the new Brat I inherited more than just her damn debt to society.
I have her Skills and Abilities. That includes the wonderful ability to sit straight and drink tea like a proper lady.
…
I have prayed many times for Cheat Powers. Spoiler, they never arrived, but I can give a [Perfect Smile].
Oh joy.
Still, a final note on the trial I was to be held accountable in:
As I was talking with Duchess Freyhell Mercia, I learned that that should I harbor the desire to cast the ritual again (that I believed brought me here and hoped could send me home), then any chance I had at getting off with this world’s equivalent of a warning would be made forfeit.
Instead, I would be executed to protect the people.
So in other words, I was screwed.
I wanted to go home damnit!
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Later that day, I got to eat my first food in this world. The maid (whom I had learned by now was a Succubus by the name of the Harlot’s Horde) brought it by. It was… an adorable set of hot buns shaped to look like fat little cats.
I… had trouble not squealing, and I’m not proud of that.
I… had trouble holding them because they were really hot. Even if I’m apparently resistant to heat it doesn’t mean things don’t feel hot!
I… also kind of drugged out eating it all.
I’m still not sure why it was such a weird experience, but I did later learn that I have a Condition known as Essence Sensitivity. Everyone in this world eats Essence-rich food but the Heart Condition the Brat had meant she’d eaten ‘desaturated’ stuff all her life (her Heart couldn’t process Essence without pain). So food has been… interesting ever since.
I… may have also cried. Again. It happens a lot, actually.
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I passed out after the food and woke up the next day. It was the big day, the trial was set almost immediately after my recovery (this marked the third day that I remember being in this new world, but I may have been here longer while unconscious).
I’ll cut to the chase on this one.
I came to while being washed by the maid, screamed at her, tried to stand up, and Yeeted myself across the room. That whole dissonance between me and the Brat’s body thing, alright. I tumbled successfully, which mostly confused me, and then got dragged away to get dressed.
The Brat, of course, had a massive closet. She might not be a Princess, but I bet her wardrobe could cloth a dozen of them.
Inside the ‘closet’ (it was seriously the size of a department store) there was another demon that got summoned. Usiu, though I tend to refer to her as the She-Devil or Tailor Demon. I’m still not sure what kind of Demon she is, but she is… well, she’s very pretty. Tall, confident, and sparkly, with massive sweeping wings, horns that jutted around her head like a crown, and honestly she looked like a Greek Goddess meets Jazz club singer.
Sounded like one too.
Well, past this I’d rather not relive the trauma. Take a guess though as to whether they dressed me as a boy or a girl.
…
Hint, Corsets in this world are weird. Magical, even, as they fortify your constitution. Also, the number of damn layers a Brat has to wear is utterly ridiculous, and do you know how much I miss pockets? Gah!
Unfortunately, the struggle to get dressed revealed an… issue.
I needed to go to the bathroom.
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It should go as no surprise that I am not a fan of discussing unmentionables (that I’m forced to wear) or performing the unspeakable (in the privacy of bathrooms).
It had to happen eventually, and it was traumatizing.
Up until this point I had deluded myself into thinking that maybe I could get home and rethink my life. Take from this experience what I could and be a better person. More tolerable and, er, less misogynistic. I’m sorry I’m not perfect, okay!
But for the first time since I came here, I couldn’t hide behind the dissonance of my mind and body. I… felt the whole experience.
After this point, I stopped thinking of the Brat and I as entirely separate things. I… I’m in the Brat’s body and for better or worse it’s mine while I’m here. I try to be respectful as her body’s flaws are now mine as well.
Like being ticklish. Turns out this world likes Bidets.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
…
FUCK BIDETS.
...
Anyway, after that unspeakable incident it was time to go. As I was heading out, I was introduced to the Brat’s little sister; Catella.
She’s a real bottle of sunshine, that girlnade. In truth, she’s a sweetheart, but she’s also really damn strong. She, ah, kind of tackled me to the ground by accident.
It might sound extreme, but she’s the one that found the Brat after the accident with the summoning ritual. There was… a lot of blood and I’ll leave it at that.
Then we all got in a carriage and headed towards the city nearby (I got a sustenance potion rather than breakfast, yay). The Freyhells Estate was massive, so it took a while, and during that time I got a chance to finally learn more about the mechanics of the world.
Mostly I just regret it. There’s too damn much! I kept thinking it was like a game, but I was also convinced it had to be some sort of fantasy world. Waking up in another world was strange enough, but how would being in a game world make any sense?
I could list out the details of what I learned here, but to be honest, it wasn’t very much, and it was more confusing than helpful. I have my next two Contingency Journal entries planned, though. The next one won’t have anything on that stuff, but the third one will. If you need to refresh on mechanics, skip to that part.
My ability to pay attention past that point ended when I kind of got called out for cursing by the Brat’s mother, and she told me to watch my tongue.
Turns out Demonkin all have kind of long tongues (the Devil’s Tongue Quality, I learned much later) so I literally did that just to mess with her; I stuck out my tongue and stared at it!
It was a funny joke, but kind of stupid as it meant I didn’t even get to the see the city as we came in.
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Alright, it gets fucking dicey now.
We arrived in the courthouse, and everyone and their mom is staring at me running along in stupid little heels (The, ah, whole damn town knew about what the Brat had done). I also get to finally meet the Brat’s father.
Duke Freyhell Constantine is a regal man, also with black silvery hair that was short-cropped (same eye coloration as the Duchess). He had some really well-trimmed facial hair, though his suit looked kind of like an orchestra conductor to me. Honestly though, I find that I actually really like the guy.
Confession however, it may just be that the man reminds me a lot of my own father. The Duke is surprisingly personable and goofy. We also shared a moment when a Fire started burning within me. It’s called the [Tyrant’s Flame] and the Brat inherited it from him. Sounds cool right? Don’t get attached.
My new old man teaches me how to control my Ki to stop the power from activating, and then it’s time to go inside and meet the Justiciar. High Justiciar Sphrantzes is a Flameborn, a real Ganondorf looking guy with fire for hair (which made for an awesome beard btw).
We talk for only a few moments before the Brat’s mother breaches etiquette (she used some sort of skill to try and subtly warn me not to lie but the Justiciar noticed) and as a result the rest of the family gets kicked out. This was, in any case, just a preliminary meeting with the Justiciar, not the actual trial.
He told me we were meeting beforehand because he wanted a chance to gauge my own well being for himself and to make sure I understood what was about to happen (he’d heard from Duke Freyhell Constantine about me not knowing stuff).
What I find out isn’t encouraging.
I’m not being given a fair trial, and in a lot of ways, it’s just a big setup for a political maneuver against the Freyhell family. What I’m getting is a Review, used in rare instances in which the focus on the hearing is on what makes you, you. Before the Justiciars you must answer for everything that makes you who you are and justify your own damn existence.
Fun stuff. I also learned that the political motives boiled down to reducing taxes for other nobility. My life was on trial for taxes of all damn things!
A couple hours later, and the Review starts. The room it’s in is dark except for a white spot light, and I’m forced to endure it alone. I have to speak for my own defense.
It’s bullcrap and we all know it.
To give you an idea of what it was like, the first thing that happened is I was asked how I was going to address the Court. IE, whether I would be standing or kneeling in the light. They needled me based on my decision, making me second guess everything, and all the while scribbled in notebooks from the shadows where their voices came from.
Three Justiciars, one of which I’m pretty sure was Sphrantzes (sitting just in front of me) but I never found out who the others were. The one that was on my left, I like a lot actually. She tried to be nice, even defended me at some points, but the one on the right was a right ol’ prick.
I had to introduce myself next, which failed because I don’t know how to say the Brat’s name. I got accused of trying to dissociate myself from the Freyhells, and when I finally smoothed it over by admitting I couldn’t introduce myself, they read a list of my crimes.
Guilty of destruction of Artifacts (three counts). Guilty of performing forbidden magic. And some other accusation that I never really got. Things got fuzzy, really badly.
Another one of those moments that makes me worried something is going on with me.
But from that moment of panic, I realized that trying to pretend to be the Brat was possibly coming across as a lie to these guys. So, since I’d already broken the rule once, I decided to do so again. I tried to explain (even if I couldn’t use my name) that I came from another world and deny the accusations.
They first questioned what I was if I weren’t the Brat (I suspect they were implying I was an aberration) but when I tried to defend myself I found that there was a key word I couldn’t say. You see, some words like ‘computer’ or ‘Fahrenheit’ I can’t say in this world, it’s not just limited to my name. The translation power I got from the Brat doesn’t work on them (I’ve assumed it's because there is no word to translate too).
And when I needed to most, I found that I couldn’t say the word Human.
Turns out, humans don’t exist in this fantasy world. And boy was it fun trying to explain that to these Justiciars when all the words I wanted to use, didn’t exist for them.
It got worse when they asked for my name specifically. Everything fell apart into the fuzziness.
Rahm (the dark skinned four-armed man who looks like Dr. Lebowski who is somehow the Brat’s Grandfather) had to give me a potion to calm me down. It… did help, even if I don’t like to admit it.
After that I denied everything, and just tried to be honest. I wasn’t sure if it went well, but they called for a recess to call an expert in to aid in the trial and let me rest.
…I tried to come up with a plan in a waiting room, and failed. I took a nap instead.
Back in the trial, a new person joined me in the light. Some white-robed girl with a mask and gloves that I never learned more about. She used tarot cards, of all things, to read something about me. I’d say it was hogwash, but… well, the cards did float around and sparkle. I kind of just have to assume there was magic there.
The Justiciars learned something from the reading, but every time I tried to ask about it, they refused to tell me. No one ever tells me what’s fuzzy. Er, wrong. The weird girl did leave me the card that all the Justiciars found most interesting, though despite what everyone says the damn thing is blank.
…
Okay, if you’re following along now, then you need to understand that what follows next is possibly the most important moment of my life in this new world.
The Justiciars decided to offer me a choice.
I could either walk free as Jordan or accept the Brat’s crimes and punishments.
Sounds like the easiest choice in the world, right? Well, they presented it through the form of images that hung in the air.
To my left I saw the Brat walking through an unassuming village, having a great time (I’m sure). Point was, it was freedom. Anything I could want (though I’d still be the Brat).
To my right, was a path of thorns, war, and blood. The Brat was burdened by responsibilities, plagued by enemies on all sides, and generally looked like they were living the worst life possible.
I’m sure you already know which one I picked, so let me just… explain why.
Behind me each of these pictures cast a shadow of their fallout. The path of Freedom came at the cost of the Freyhell family, specifically… to Catella. The rest of the family would die, the city would burn, the people would die, and she would be draped in chains and suffer for the rest of her life.
On the other side, opposite the path of Thorns… the city was unchanged. People were happy, life is great, and all that jazz.
I was… confused, and angry as you can probably imagine. But I saw a line form between Thorns and its Shadow, and…
I saw where the Freyhells were with that choice.
They fought as a family, sheltering themselves and the Brat. Them against the world.
I… the truth is I abandoned my family on Earth. I severed ties after my father’s funeral when my youngest sister refused to talk to me again, and couldn’t even face my own mother. Only my sister Anna still tried to reach out to me. She never gave up, you know?
But I felt guilty about it. When I looked at Catella’s future image, she… she looked at me with all the hatred that my sister Kate had. I broke my heart all over again.
…
Naturally, I did what anyone would probably do in that position. I, er, complained. I railed, and screamed, and… then a third choice appeared. But no one was setting it for me this time, so I tried to paint my own picture. Paint myself going home.
After it was done, it simply merged with the path of Freedom and changed how it looked; There was a nondescript Earth in the background and the Brat was gone. I assumed this meant I got to go home and everything was fine, but behind me…
The Shadow hadn’t changed.
I questioned why, and then a connection between Freedom and its Shadow formed. In it, I saw what happens to the Brat if I’m not around.
They put her down. I… I don’t know why. I-It’s fuzzy.
I got in an argument with someone, though I’ve never found out who. I tried again and again to make a third choice that worked, but it always came at the same price.
The Freyhells died if I went free. Everyone died if I walked away.
It wasn’t fair.
The images… did offer me one more choice though. A peaceful woods where no one would bother me again. A little noose that hung from a tree that would take it all away.
No one else would have to die if I chose that path. I didn’t know why, but I was certain of it.
But looking at it, all I could see was the Colt that my older brother, and then later father, used to end their lives. I don’t want… to follow them there.
It took a lot of willpower, but I turned it down. I decided that if I had to be in this awful new world, and live this awful new life, that… I didn’t want to spend the whole thing hating myself. I’ve lived that life. I know where it goes.
Even if it wasn’t my fault, I chose to take responsibility. I chose the path of Thorns and I accepted who I am now.
Because in the end, that image on the right? The Brat turned around to look at me and smiled.
All I could see was my sister’s smile. Anna had never given up on me, and she had always been my greatest hero. Even if I’d only ever be a shadow of her, I was going to try harder this time.
For her and myself.
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As punishment for the crimes, I was to be branded with three titles until such a time as I could make up for what society lost with the Brat’s actions. Three great workings equal to the most precious magical items this world had to offer.
They determined that my desire to perform forbidden magic was born of misconceptions and let me off with a warning (and technically something like parole) to ensure no signs of repeat offenses happened (I think me not remembering how to use said rituals here helped a lot).
The first title they inflicted on me, was that of the Fool. So everyone would know that I don’t make wise choices, and that I need people to guide me.
The second title they bestowed on me, was that of the Repentant. They’d seen it in my actions, and by willingly choosing the path of Thorns I’d shown a desire to be a better person. While I would always be reminded of my shortcomings, no one could say that I wasn’t trying to be better.
The last title they didn’t give me. They didn’t give anything. Instead, they took from me. They made me kneel down and kowtow.
A Proudborn, apparently, isn’t supposed to do that.
They had to use magic to force me down, it’s effect chaining me to the floor as I tried to scream but instead was forced to renounce my pride in every way. Admit, over and over, in front of everyone that was nothing to be proud of.
When it was done, it did three things to me.
First, I gained a title. The Forsaken.
Second, I lost the [Tyrant’s Flame] before I ever got to understand it.
And third, I learned that in this world Demonkin, on death, go to a Realm called Asurias where they become true Demons. The wardens of hell.
But I wouldn’t get that now. If I die, I simply get sent to hell as another tormented soul.
And for one brief moment, I got to feel exactly what that would be like.
…
The trial finished after that point, and we returned home. I wasn’t exactly feeling great at this point, but surprisingly, I wasn’t the most upset.
My… new family was. They shed tears over what had happened, screamed in rage over it, and plotted.
I was touched, and inspired by them, up until I learned… the price of the heart in my chest.
Remember earlier when I mentioned the Brat’s mother had blown that off? Well, turns out the heart was a transplant. A miraculous, once in a lifetime thing that had saved the Brat’s life.
It came from another Demonkin family. The Westhells.
And they had demanded only one thing (that I cared about).
Marriage.
I got into an argument. I’m not proud of it, but please don’t blame me for being resistant to the idea of being betrothed as a girl. I fail to see how that would be okay for anyone, let alone someone in my own shoes.
Thankfully, new father Constantine had a plan. Go to a magical academy sponsored by the High King and I could force a postponement on the marriage (otherwise set in six and a half months just after the winter solstice). Distinguish myself in service, and I might be able to ask for a boon to annul the marriage from the highest authority in the land.
Obviously, I accepted the challenge. I got into another fight with the Brat’s mother because she refused to let me though.
She told me that unless I sign a magic-backed contract guaranteeing my compliance towards the marriage in the case that I fail, that she will personally prevent me from even trying to enter the academy.
Wouldn’t you know it, we got into a fight over it! Yay!
In the end, Constantine brokered a peace between us, and I sign with the understanding that I’ll have to… partake in social events in between adventuring and dungeoneering. It’s not exactly what I want, but I figure I can work with it.
That is, until out of curiosity, I ask the name of the academy. And they tell me.
His Majesty’s Immortal Academy.
…remember back when I said the world sounded like a game, but I didn’t want to admit it?
HMIA is the most popular game on Earth, and I have no idea how the hell I could possibly be in it. There is no technology for any VR stuff! Worse yet…
I, ah, I never played the game. My sister, Anna… she bought the game for me as a birthday present when she found out I couldn’t afford it almost a decade ago.
And out of stubborn pride… I refused to play it. I’m an idiot to the end, really.
But memories of Anna caused me to ramble. Because something had begun to bother me.
…why me? Why am I in this world?
The Brat sounds like she had a heart issue exactly the same as my sister, Anna.
So why the hell wasn’t she here?
I… get told something that I don’t want to believe, but have grown to accept.
Rituals, like the summoning one used by the Brat, can often be made with contingencies. What this means is that if your primary target turns out to be missing, the magic can then cycle through sympathetic connections (similar targets) to continue.
Targets… like me. A close family member with knowledge on the condition and how it was rectified.
And now I realize the worst part of all.
The last time I spoke with my sister was almost a year ago. She’d called because our mother was sick (the kind you don’t recover from), but I didn’t want to deal with it. It… wasn’t a good time, I’d said.
Normally, Anna would call me once a month. Sometimes twice just to be a brat.
But after that call?
One year. One year I hadn’t talked to her and I’d felt… grateful, of all things. I thought she’d finally gotten it through her skull that I’m an awful person and she should cut me out of her life.
I’d also been disappointed she finally gave up when she swore she wouldn’t.
But the thing is… if she died, there isn’t anyone else in the world that would be there to tell me. No one would reach out.
Why would they? How would they not assume I’d just walk out of the next funeral too?
And if she was alive, she’d have been the primary target for the Ritual. So if I’m here, that can only mean one thing.
…
I am now trapped in a new world that should have been hers. She was a nerd, loved HMIA too much, and was the only one who never gave up on me. She was a hero who never failed to smile.
And I’m her crappy older brother who took her place in paradise.
I now have six and a half months to formulate a Class, reach Level One, complete a series of trials, and enter into His Majesty’s Immortal Academy.
Or I’ll spend the rest of her paradise as little more than a political pawn in marriage.
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