Stirring in my bed, my hands fumble toward my bedside table for my phone, only to swat at empty air. Confused, I crack open an eye to see a familiar room. But not the one my sleep-addled mind was expecting. Right. This is Nealan's bedroom. My bedroom.

Then, pain. Specifically from my bitten shoulder and aching joints, which take umbrage at being tasked with moving. Clenching my teeth and moving through the discomfort I get out of bed and massage my wrists. If this is the result of using Reckless Strike then I really am just going to have to save it for emergencies. Feels like I've wrenched my hands out of place. Regret. Soooo much regret, fucking ow.

Come on man. Suck it in. Deep breaths.

Half-stumbling, I move over to my old wardrobe and pick out a fresh shirt and socks. The trousers I wore yesterday are still perfectly fine, though the shirt I was wearing is in need of a needle and thread to patch up the holes that dirolft left in it.

There's something decidedly surreal about waking up in someone else's room. I remember staying in my cousin's room over spring break when I was a teenager and it just felt and smelled alien. If you told teenage me that in about a decade's time he'd be waking up in a room that is and isn't his in a body that belongs to a fictional character he created that is inside of a virtual reality he'd be sceptical at best.

I'm just not going to think too hard about it. I am Nealan, this is my room, there's no reason for any of it to feel strange.

Repeating that over and over again like a mantra, I pull on and fasten my boots. Straps tightened, I pick up and throw the bag I packed with fresh clothes last night before bed over my shoulder, ready to start my day.

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

Entering the living room, my parents are both already present, even though it is just after sunrise. Da is refining his walking stick by the fire while Mam sits in her rocking chair, staring at me as I enter the room. I smile at her, rubbing a nugget of rheum from my eye.

"Mornin' Mam. Mornin' Da."

Mam smiles back at me, "Good morning Nelly. How'd you sleep?"

My cheek twitches out of irritation, "Slept alright, I guess. Makes a difference from the floor, but I'll be damned if it doesn't feel no different. My arms feel like an ungreased door hinge."

"And let that be a lesson to you, young man. Idiocy has a price, and the gods're all too eager t' collect," Mam nags, "You'll just have to live with it for a day or two. I already gave you the strongest pain reducer I had, and any more will kill ya."

I sigh, "I know Mam, you and Da taught me all about it..."

Da puts his knife down and turns to me, "When did you plan on leaving?"

"As soon as I can. I want to be at the next village before sunset."

Da nods, "The journey to Mhin takes about 4 days by foot. If I were you I'd go ask the Alderman for five days worth of provisions, just to be sure. It's the least he can do after putting ya up to this."

I nod in agreement. Though I can probably try and gather food along the journey, I'd rather guarantee I have enough food to last the trip. Hunting and foraging don't guarantee food, and most of the region is hills and grassy plains. Finding anything to eat is going to be difficult unless you're trained. Which I'm most definitely not. Forests are one thing, but plains aren't my area.

Heh. Puns.

A smirk flashes across my face, but I suppress it, "No argument there. I need to ask him about some directions, anyway. While I'm at it I'll see if I can convince him to outfit me for some equipment. I'd be a lot more comfortable travelling with something better than my knife and that rust-riddled mail. If Lonn is anything to go by I ain't gonna hold my breath, though."

Privately I feel a little regret that I can't take Da's hatchet with me. But it's too late to complain about that now, and I know it's not really an option. Still, looking into getting a decent set of equipment is going to be pretty high on my list of things to do, if I'm going to be going into the Adventurer life.

I'm feeling extremely excited about that, now that I mention it. It's not the same as when I heard about the Dirolft pack yesterday, though. If I had to describe it, it's more of a...patient anticipation?

"That's all well an' good, but are you completely sure of this, Nelly?" Mam asks, still staring at me. Please stop, you're making me uncomfortable.

Exasperated, I roll my eyes, "Yes, Mam, I'm sure. Like I ain't told you already."

Mam's mouth forms a thin line of displeasure, "Watch your tone, young man!"

"Vette, it's fine," Da says, moving closer to me, sighing as he rubs his worn features, "We've already said most of what needs saying already, no need to repeat it..."

Mam harrumphs, "I know, and don't call me Vette!"

Da smiles, "Come on, get up and give our son a hug."

Wait, what? No. I say no to hugging.

Too late, however, as the stronger old man pulls me in for a tight one-armed hug before I can retreat, beckoning Mam with his walking stick. With her joining in, the pressure on my torso increases. Ow my back, ow my back, ow my back and shoulder...

"We love you, son. So don't go and get yerself killed like an idiot out there, ok?"

"Make sure you come back in one piece, Nelly."

Honestly, the emotional pain I would be feeling right now at this highly poignant moment is taking a backseat to actual, physical pain. I can't actually speak because they're holding me so tightly.

After what must be an eternity of hugging my parents slowly release me. I take an exaggerated breath in, "FREEDOM!"

Momentarily stunned by my somewhat uncharacteristic outburst, they break out in jovial laughter. Da clasps me on the shoulder, pulls up my left hand and places something warm and disc-like in my palm, closing my fingers around it.

Inspecting the object, my eyes widen and my jaw slackens. Sputtering, I stare aghast at Da, "A-an Iron Nonne?!"

Da smiles, "You won't get far without money, son. You've managed to scrape together enough to getcherself in the Adventurer life, but it won't do you no good if ya don't have food in yer belly and a roof over your head. Least with this much you'll be able to afford an inn with clean beds for a few nights if you're frugal."

I gulp, "C-can you even afford this?"

"Honestly," Mam speaks up, "No. Least, not for long. But we aren't giving it you just out the goodness of our hearts, you hear? We expect you to come back with at least two more of them by year's end!"

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She chuckles, pinching my cheek, "And if you come back with a wife in tow, all the better. We ain't getting any younger and I want to see my grandkids 'fore I go!"

I cough, embarrassed. Gods above, I haven't felt like this since I left home for college. Admittedly, it wasn't as...I don't know...? What's the phrase?

Involved.

I think by that point I'd already started to drift away from my real world parents. Though thinking about it now, I can't really say that's news, nor can I pinpoint exactly what started it. Maybe it's the influence of Nealan, but the connection and love is truly something to behold. It's honestly difficult to describe it, so I just won't bother.

But it's nice. I may be a Cuckoo, but it's just...pleasant.

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After a quick breakfast consisting of some heavily salted smoked meat and a slightly stale bread roll with enough unmilled seeds left in to make a health nut scream in joy, I leave the lodge with a final wave goodbye to Mam and Da, headed in the direction of the village.

Within short order, I arrive at the gate, which is currently guarded by a different militiaman from Lonn, and one I don't immediately recognise. This one looks a little older than I am, if rather short, with a bushy black beard and a bit of a belly.

He brandishes his shoddy spear at me, all self-importance, "Halt! Travellers aren't-"

Only for me to cut him off mid-sentence, "Tula give me patience...I'm a bloody local!"

Irked, the fat man squints at me, "Don't look like anybody I know. Don't be trying to pull the wool over my eyes, now, I weren't born yesterday!"

I groan, "Nealan? Nealan Forrester? Walther and Yvette's son? Ringin' any bells in that big head? Come on, I had to explain it to Lonn yesterday as well. Am I really that forgettable?"

He doesn't seem to be particularly impressed, "Since when did the Woodsman have a son?"

"Since like, 18 years ago!"

"A likely story!"

I'm rapidly losing patience with this idiot. Obviously, he's a new arrival in the village, one that moved out here after I left. I suppose I could just give him my seax, but it's the principle of the thing. This is my hometown, damn it!

Grinding my teeth, I prepare to punch this moron's smug grin inwards, but a voice calling out interrupts the conversation, "What's going on h- Oh, hey Nealan!"

Lonn arrives with a flushed face, lacking the crappy helmet. Great, maybe he can talk some sense into fatty lumpkins here.

Fatty Lumpkins scowls at the beanpole, "You know this ban...guy?"

"You were just about to call me a bandit weren't you?" I growl. Urge to punch, rising.

Ignoring me, he waits for Lonn's nervous response, "I m-mean..yeah? He's local and all..."

Lonn's eyes dart between his colleague and me, an anxious open half-smile twitching, "Is there a problem..?"

After a pregnant pause, he grunts, "No. He can pass if you're vouching for him. But if he causes trouble it's on you, ya got that?"

Lonn tilts his head, "...S-sure?"

Ignoring the dimwitted buffoon, I address Lonn, "Great, that's that waste of my time and patience over with. Lonn, wheres the Alderman?"

"Um...I just passed him a couple minutes ago. He'll be in The Woodsman, as usual, I think."

I nod in approval, "Thank you. See this? This is how you treat a local. I reckon you should learn from yer friend here."

Fatty Lumpkins spits on the ground, "Sod off."

"Gladly. Goodbye Lonn, I'm heading off to Mhin after I pick up some supplies, so you won't be seeing me around for a while. Try not to freak out when I come back home again in a couple months, yeah? Because Tula give me patience, I ain't a fuckin' bandit, and I'd appreciate it if you mentioned that little fact to the other new militiamen so I don't almost get stabbed by a twitchy sod a third fuckin' time!"

Not waiting for an answer, I push past Fatty and head off in search of a bear in human skin.

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

Once again, The Woodsman is fairly bereft of patrons, however, it is still more than when I came in looking for the Alderman yesterday. The man in question is sat at a table, knife and two-pronged fork in hand, eating a slice of pink meat in a thick yellowish gravy, and chatting with the village Carpenter whose name escapes me. Like the Alderman, I just know him by his nickname 'Woody'. He's a balding old codger with a pegleg and a scowl that could strip the bark off a log.

He's a pretty alright guy if you manage to run into him when he's not in one of his foul moods. At the very least, he always treated Nealan right when he was a kid, probably owing to his friendship and partnership with Da and Mam.

Behind the bar, is Lizzle's mother, Adri, the woman from whom all alcohol in the village that won't blind you flows. She gives me a complicated look as I shut the door behind me. I don't know her all that well if I'm honest, but she never struck me as very mature. At times she's more patron than proprietress.

I'm not here to continue the events of last night, however, so I resolve to ignore her and call out to the Alderman, "Hey, you got a minute to talk?"

"Neal..." The Alderman eyes me, swallowing a mouthful of food, "Take a seat."

Nodding, I pull out a chair at his table and sit down, arms folded.

After a few more bites of his breakfast, the Alderman places his utensils down, wipes his mouth and stares straight at me.

"...You really need to learn how to talk to girls, lad."

Oh boy. We're doing this anyway. You're not even related to her. Probably. I don't want to go making any accusations here. She does have her father's nose, after all.

I sigh, "I'm really not here to talk about that..."

Woody squints at us, "What's this about, eh?"

"I rejected a clumsy offer for a 'nightcap' that Lizzle made me," I explain bluntly.

Confused, Woody trains his squint on me alone, "Why'd you go an' do that?"

Both men stare at me expectantly, and I get a sense that Adri is also listening for my response. Yep, we're really doing this. Alright.

"Because I wasn't interested in the least."

Woody frowns, but nods in understanding. The Alderman, on the other hand, is less inclined to silence, "Maybe so, but you weren't delicate about it at all. What were you thinking, announcing it to the whole crowd like that?"

I roll my eyes, "I wasn't any louder than she was herself, y'know? Maybe I coulda whispered, real quiet like, but what'd be the point?"

The Alderman makes to refute me, but is interrupted by the hand of Adri on his shoulder, "It's fine, Daurn, jes' drop it. No point in messin' with their private business after it's already done with."

I didn't even notice her approach. Spooky, to be sure, but not as much as the flash of animosity when I look into her eyes. Look, I get it, I made your baby girl cry. Actually, where's her father? Let's make this a Greek chorus!

I shake my head, "Can I just get what I came here for done?"

This whole line of conversation is a waste of time. Lizzle will get over it, and find someone else to bat her eyelashes at.

The Alderman shuts his eyes and shakes his head, "What're you here for, then?"

"I need supplies and a weapon for the trip. Plus directions to where I need to go and who I need to speak to since you didn't tell me yesterday. Also, I reckon you should stay out of Mam's reach for a while, 'cos she's....vexed by the whole thing."

The Alderman scratches his beard, thoughtfully, while the other two look at us in askance. He bows his head and sighs, "I s'pose it's only fair. How many days worth are you wanting?"

"Five or six in case I run into rough weather or something equally troublesome."

He nods, "Aight. Adri, if ya'd be so kind as to fix him up with that? Put it on my tab. I'll bring the money 'round later."

The Brewmistress frowns, obviously wanting an explanation. Nonetheless, she turns around and heads toward the kitchen to comply with his order.

As she does, Woody takes the opportunity to speak up, "What's this about?"

"He's going to Mhin with a message for an old...friend...o' mine," The Alderman explains carefully, "You'll be wanting to speak to Jennett Pavm. She'll be working at the Adventure Company on Hermias Street in the New District. That's on the northeast side o' town. Y'can't miss it."

He pauses to shove the last of his meal in his mouth, then adds, "As for a weapon...Sorry, can't really help you there lad. Decent weapon-grade metal's expensive to get ahold of this far from Redault."

Woody nods, arms crossed and teeth clenched, "Aye. Right pain in the arse it is. I'm on my third chisel this year alone, lookin' at gettin' a fourth."

I drum my fingers on the table. That's a bit of a problem if I'm honest. But I suppose it can't be helped. Klennock is heavily reliant on the woods and a couple of acres of poor quality farmland. We're as far removed from the concept of mining ore as you can get. The village blacksmith is just a glorified handyman, really. Mending pots and shoeing the odd animal. He can make a tool if he tries, but his work won't exactly inspire wonder in a Dwarf if you get my meaning.

In fact, the helmets those two from the militiamen were wearing looked an awful lot like repurposed saucepans, come to think of it. No wonder they looked so daft.

"Best hope I don't stumble 'cross a band of Smearlings or something then," I say, disappointed.

"Shouldn't be an issue, if what I heard from the merchant crew that stopped by last month is anythin' to go by," The Alderman grunts, "And I reckon you know to stay out of their way."

Scowling, he snorts, "Scratch that. I'm tellin' ya to stay away from any of that muck. You can go getchersel' killed after you've talked t'Jennett if it takes yer fancy."

I nod in assent, ignoring the jab when a thought occurs, "You got anything that'll prove you sent me?"

He shakes his head, "Nothin' small enough t'carry anyway. I'm outta ink 'till the winter caravan shows up too, or I'd give ya a letter."

A scarcity of ink strikes me as a little odd, but back in reality you can get a dozen biros for less than a dollar, so my standards are a little skewed. I'd suggest making a substitute, but I wouldn't know where to even begin with that.

"Well, somethin' is better than nought. There's gotta be something."

The Alderman's face flushes red, "W-well...there might be...somethin'..."