Lestra walked off first, while Donald looked into his sack to see how many coins they had been given. “Wow, I was told the guild paid handsomely,” Donald said. “But this is quite a lot, especially before we’ve even done anything.”
George smiled. He assumed that an exact conversion from whatever coin the guild gave out to US dollars would be a bit too much to ask for, but ‘quite a lot’ gave him a good enough idea of its worth. “Hey, can I tag along, while you get what you need?” George asked. “I’m not quite sure where any of the stores are.”
“Sure thing. What do you think you’ll need?”
George thought for a moment. Lestra had said it would take no more than a few days. That of course meant that it would probably take more than a day, so he needed a few changes of clothes, food wouldn’t be a bad idea, and maybe a sword. Thomas had mentioned that there were lurking dangers, and a sword seemed to be the go-to fantasy weapon from every piece of media he had ever consumed. “I need clothes, a sword, and food.”
“Alright, we should head out now. Don’t want the stores closing up on us. Let’s grab that food first.”
What exactly did everyone eat underground? Farming crops probably wasn’t too viable without the sun- at least not the crops George was accustomed to. A bit of wonderment filled his mind as he imagined what exotic fruits could come out of plants which grew in the dark caverns. But when he stepped passed the curtain which veiled the market, a familiar scent wafted to him. Bread. Plain bread, the exact smell he recognized from every bakery he had ever stepped in.
With that powerful smell, all the hunger George had stored up since lunch that day- back in school, before he had even stepped foot in his new world- all of it returned. It seemed on one hand to be such a long time. On the other, it was so very short. Trying to make a life for himself, had he been too quick to abandon hope of returning to his own world? No. He never abandoned it. He just hadn’t yet had a chance to think about it. There had to be a way back, and he would find it, but he couldn’t know how long it would take, and before then, he had to live.
“Come on,” Donald said. “Stand still any longer and we’ll be forced to eat elven cuisine the entire trip.”
At Donald’s lead, the two stocked some bread, a shocking amount of jerky, and all kinds of non-perishables. George quickly figured out that one of the coins in his sack corresponded to one drel and he helped chip in 15 of them for the food.
“That should be enough,” Donald said as he tossed the last item in his backpack.
“Can you leave me a piece of bread?” George asked. Good to have something to hold him over until the next day.
Donald shrugged and handed him a small loaf, which George stuck in his small sack of coins.
“One of these places ought to have something for you to wear,” Donald said as variety shops began to poke through the food stalls. It wasn’t long before George noticed someone familiar- Thomas. Thomas seemed to have noticed him as well. As soon as they were about to pass him, the old merchant popped up from his task of unloading his new wares, and stood at the counter, his face lit like the bulb of an anglerfish.
George wasn’t about to betray the man who so kindly escorted him to the city and the guild, so he stopped at Thomas’ shop, or as it was crudely labeled: Old Man Tom’s
“Hi there,” Thomas said. “George, right? Good to see you again so soon.”
“I need some clothes,” George said.
“Well, thanks for coming here. Tell you what, since we already have a bit of a connection, I’ll give you a special discount. I’ll only charge five drel for a shirt, and another five for some pants.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“It’s a scam,” Donald whispered. “Five drel is the regular price.”
Really? After they knew each other’s names, he would still so unapologetically try to rip him off. Despite the minor affront, George stayed loyal and bought three shirts, and three pairs of pants. As Thomas handed them over, George glanced to the loaded bag strapped to Donald’s back. ”Can I get a bag as well?”
“Four drell.”
Begrudgingly, George paid up.
“I need to make a quick stop here,” Donald said as they came to a building that looked more like a temple than a shop. “I want to pick up a spell with all this new coin.”
“Spell? Like magic? Is that where all this light comes from?” George had noticed quite a bit of lights studding the streets and rooftops, but he didn’t know what made them. They didn’t seem to be fire-sourced, and electricity didn’t seem like something a fantasy land would have access to.
“Other way around bozo. Magic comes from the light, or more specifically the light crystals. Of course, the ones you see normally are all heavily refined and sealed, so not much can be done with them. But… Come in with me, and you can maybe see some cool things.”
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They entered a room with shelfs like a library- shelfs that reached as high as the ceiling and were filled with what looked to be individual papers. Donald flipped through the sheets on a bottom rung, reading each one’s title. The paper he finally pulled out had an intricate pattern, with a light brown glitter sprinkled over it.
“Alright,” Donald said. “I think this one will do. Can you take that out that piece of bread I gave you?”
George obliged and brought out the loaf of bread from his sack of coins.
“Lay your hand flat, would you?”
As George unlatched his fingers, the loaf wobbled. Donald stuck out his hand. The bread lifted an inch off of George’s palm and gently drifted toward Donald’s. With a smirk, Donald caught the air bound bread then tossed it back to a mesmerized George.
“Amazing. You can float stuff now?”
“Well- bread. I can float bread now. Baker’s delivery is the title of this spell.”
“T-that’s all?” George didn’t want to say it directly, but what a lame power. When he found out Donald was a mage, he expected him to be able to shoot fire balls, not bread.
“Hey, if you were to get trapped in a crevice, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a flying piece of bread coming toward you. And besides, these sheets are for areas where there’s very little or no energy from natural light crystals.”
“So if you were in a place with a bunch of natural light crystals, you could do something more interesting?”
“N-no. Not yet. It’s still too difficult for me to navigate through the mess of raw energies to get anything done. Only strong mages, like the morning keepers can. But one day I will.”
After purchasing the spell, Donald stuck it in a grimoire that was mostly cover. Like two buns with nothing but lettuce between them, there were only five or so pages. Unable to stand the hunger any longer, George took a few bites from his piece of bread.
“Alright, now what did you need again? A sword?”
“Yes.”
“Fortunately, I know a blacksmith not too far from here.”
Like diving into a kitchen drawer, every sort of sharp and shiny object was on display at the smithy. But along with the sharp things, stood full suit of armor in the back. George’s attention fell immediately on the splendorous plates, and all of a sudden, the extra changes of clothes felt superfluous. Armor- he forgot about armor, that thing that helps prevent a blade from piercing the internal organs. What good was an extra shirt if he wouldn’t last long enough to dirty the first? But the sword took priority. He couldn’t even worry about getting in a fight without a weapon.
“I would like to buy a sword,” George said.
The blacksmith squinted. “Which sword?”
“Uh… That one.” George pointed to one at random, that was of as medium length.
“20 drel.”
20 drel? That would leave him hardly anything left. No way he could afford the armor. Maybe if it was cheap enough, he could convince Donald to chip in. “A-and the armor?”
“300.”
It was difficult to keep a smirk after hearing that price. “Just the sword please.”
The blacksmith slipped the sword into a leather sleeve and presented it. George’s arms sunk as the sheaved sword fell into his hands. He quickly secured it in a tight grasp, and clipped it to his belt, but from then on, the weight of the sword felt like it would pull the belt down and his pants with it. To try to disguise his struggle carrying his new weapon, he gave a smile back at Donald.
When they had finished shopping, George had five coins left. Probably too little to pay for even a single night anywhere. Still, he had to try. But before he could even find an inn, much less one that was cheap enough, he managed to stumble across the hexagonal building of the guild once more. He decided to spend the night there, so that he wouldn’t struggle the next day to find his way back on time.
The attendant was still at their desk when he entered. What was he thinking? They would never let someone off the streets stay the night.
“Need someplace to sleep?” The attendant asked.
The casual manner which she spoke in shocked George. “Y-you’re okay with it?”
“You aren’t the first person with nowhere to stay who turns to guild work. Just don’t make a mess of things around here.”
He positioned four chairs so that they were in a line and stuck his bag on one end as a pillow. Before lying down, he stared up at the eye-searing light. If it came from magic crystals instead of electricity, how did they turn it off? George knew the answer as soon as the attendant left: they didn’t.
It was a miserable rest. He couldn’t turn his body without falling right off and had to constantly shift his head to keep the bag properly pinned beneath it. Thoughts of home again haunted his mind. Not just about how or if he would get back, but of the people he knew as well. Would he ever see his friends, or family again? He winced at the thought of his parents worried sick about their lost son. At dinner, when he didn’t answer, they would come to his room. They would give the door a few knocks at first, but eventually they would barge in, and he wouldn’t be there, only his old clothes, and the device. Maybe they would inspect it, and even press the button and then be taken to the same fields. But at night. What kind of monsters would greet them? Those prowlers. He didn’t have a description to go off of, only a name, but he imagined nonetheless all kinds of horrors that could stalk the fields at night.
“Good morning.” The words came as an instant mercy as the attendant pushed through the doors.
As the new day went on, George shrouded his head in his arms to keep from being stared at by the guild members which entered and exited like clockwork. It took hours, but finally Lestra returned to the guild with her own stuffed bag of supplies, which made his sagging sack look impoverished in comparison. She held a bow in one hand, and a quiver was tied a bit above her hip. “I see that you’re early.”
Not what he wanted to hear. It meant more waiting, and worse yet, he might even need to make idle conversation. Fortunately, though, it seemed Lestra was just as distant as him. Though as time passed, and they both stayed quiet, to some extent he wished that she wasn’t. He may not have wanted to talk in the moment but getting to know her a bit would surely make the mission less awkward in the long run. This was someone he would have to spend the next few days with, and he knew nothing about her. What kind of customs did an elf have? The very idea that he would be sitting across from an elf would be alien just a day and a half ago.
The doors opened again, and finally the other oddity arrived: the magic man who could command a loaf of bread to do his bidding. “I see you two are ready,” Donald said. “Let’s get going then.”