“Amateur children… never traveled beyond their own… all over my shoes…”

Orrin ignored Chaminda’s grumbling. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve as his mind reeled. The rain was a light drizzle in Mistlight, nothing compared to the torrential downpour they’d just left.

I should have recognized the light. That was Madi. I bet Daniel was right behind her but I couldn’t see them in the storm. Orrin berated himself, playing over a hundred what-ifs.

Slowly, a smile crept across his face. They figured out I was not dead. They found me.

He hadn’t doubted… not really. Daniel was indomitable and Madi was clever. They also had the backing of Dey. At least Orrin assumed Silas would give in to the demands of his only daughter and the [Hero]. Dey was relying on them to save everyone from the upcoming Horde.

“Stop smiling like a dimwit and come along,” Chaminda demanded, grabbing Orrin’s bicep and pulling him to the entrance of the alley they had landed in.

Orrin’s last meal could barely be found among the detritus and substances in what Orrin assumed was a street-wide garbage can. “Why would you [Teleport] us into this filth?”

Chaminda tapped his finger to Orrin’s head. “Use your noggin. Most buildings have teleportation wards set up. Sometimes, I need to move about without people seeing me. Nobody notices the waste. If you need a quick escape or a place to hide, trash alleys are the safest bet. Now, step to.”

Orrin’s mind continued to second-guess his decisions. Anabella had been giving him so many commands over the past few days that he’d jumped when she told him to without a second thought. He watched Chaminda check the street before gesturing for him to follow.

Mistlight hadn’t changed in the past week. Less people clogged the streets with the rain and Orrin noticed a few people even had umbrellas. They approached a crosswalk when Chaminda turned on his heel and threw an arm around Orrin’s shoulder.

“I’m your drunk friend, support me,” Chaminda whispered and began to stumble about. Orrin gripped his arm to keep the both of them from falling over.

“What are you ta—”

“You there, come help clean this mess up.” A city guard, dressed in the colors of Lord Sanerris’s house rounded the corner. “Oh, is he drunk?”

“… yes?” Orrin took a moment to answer. Luckily, Chaminda had more than one trick up his sleeve. The [Locationist] threw his body against the nearby building and bent double, dry heaving as he fell to his knees.

“Get him home,” the guard sneered and turned. Waving his hand, he flagged down a set of adventurers and pointed around the corner. With fallen shoulders, the two men followed him.

Orrin took a peek. Two carts had collided just around the bend, spilling buckets of fish on the ground. The streets of Mistlight were nice-looking but the sewage system wasn’t exactly modern. A few inches of water had built up and the fish were splashing around with a renewed sense of life.

The second cart had been carrying grain. Not as much had fallen off but where the few bags had split open, the foodstuff had begun to absorb the water. Orrin watched one of the adventurers grab at a fish, only to have its tail hit him in the face. He fell back into the grainy water that stuck like oatmeal to his clothes.

“Quickly now, before they press us into service,” Chaminda said as he tapped Orrin’s shoulder. “We don’t want to be late and this will take a few hours to clean.”

“Picking up fish won’t take hours,” Orrin argued back but followed Chaminda back up the street they’d come from.

“The fish also have to be delivered to the docks on time, along with whatever was in the second cart. Both axles were snapped on one of the carts. We’d have been hauling for the rest of the night.”

Orrin reassessed his opinion of Chaminda. The man had appeared to eat out of Anabella’s hand but he’d seen a problem appear in front of him, analyzed it, and found a solution before Orrin knew what was going on. He might be smarter than he acts.

After backtracking, Chaminda led Orrin down a different street. Orrin could just make out the two carts in the distance. Multiple people were hoisting packages on their shoulders and walking in the opposite direction.

“The Singing Fish is just ahead,” his guide muttered more to himself than to Orrin. “I can be home with a good cup of tea and a warm blanket in ten minutes. The things I do for…” his voice petered out as he glanced back at Orrin. “Don’t dawdle.”

The tavern was easy to spot. A sign hanging above the door had the name scrawled across the standing fish cut out. He was holding a flute with his fins. How is that a singing fish?

“Delivered. Good luck at school, young one. Put in a good word for me if you wouldn’t mind. Jobs like this pay well. If you ever need a quick jaunt around, find me in the artist’s quarter. Everyone knows me there,” Chaminda held open the door and nodded his head inside.

Orrin considered running for a moment. He’d thought about it a dozen times as they walked the streets of Mistlight but the rub of metal on his neck kept him from following through. He had to meet Professor Graem and hope the guy made a mistake. If he could gain his trust, he might even be able to get the collar off.

With one last look into the rain, Orrin decided. Daniel had found him once. He’d do it again. This time he would stay put and wait. If he could get a message out, that would be best but for now, observe and assess.

“Thank you, Chaminda. I’ll let our mutual friend know how effortless the trip was,” Orrin finally answered, holding out his hand.

“Glad to hear it,” the man said, pumping Orrin’s arm. “Graem will be the one with the walking stick. Never seen him without it. Now get inside before you get sick. That rain is traveling our way. See you around.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Orrin waited for him to leave but Chaminda forced a fake smile and pointed inside again. “I have to see you go inside.”

With a sigh, Orrin entered the tavern, leaving his guide behind. He paused for a moment once inside, looking around the room.

A long bar was positioned along the left side of the room, with tables haphazardly situated everywhere else. Two barmaids carried food through a swinging door in the back, serving the customers waiting inside. It looked more like a regular restaurant than most Orrin had been to in this world.

Orrin noticed a man in his early thirties slumped on the bar, barely keeping his seat on the stool he was on. He held himself upright using a staff. Orrin counted five empty glasses, with one extra being held gingerly between long fingers.

He made his way closer and sat down next to the man. “Excuse me, sir. Are you Professor Graem?”

“Na prosser her,” the man slurred his words, sucking air as he tried to drink from his last glass. It remained a few inches away from his mouth. With an angry flare of his eyebrows, he heaved his face closer and bounced the corner of the cup against his teeth. “Ow. Thas hurt.”

Orrin craned his neck, double-checking the rest of the room for anyone else with a walking stick or staff. He saw plenty of wands on hips, being openly carried, and even one man who had six strapped down his chest but nobody else matched the description he’d been given.

“Sir, I think you’re the man I was sent to find,” Orrin tried again, leaning closer to the stink of stale alcohol. “Someone you know from work sent me?”

Orrin didn’t know what he was supposed to say when he found the professor and cursed Anabella for not telling him more. He liked the way that felt, so he cursed her a few more times using words in his mind that he’d never have the courage to say aloud.

“If yous don’t mind, I’mma enjoining… enjoying my days off,” maybe Graem mumbled into his glass. A drop of blood dripped from his busted lip and stained the clear liquid. “Shit.”

“But you are Graem?” Orrin pressed, watching the man try to catch the dispersing red from his drink with his fingers.

“Of course, I’m Prosser… Profser… I’m Graem and teach school. This little red bit shouldn’t be in here. It’s really there, right?” Professor Graem turned to Orrin and blinked in confusion. “That’s not really there.”

Orrin almost fell back off his own stool as Graem reached for his face. Luckily the man was drunk enough that his hand-eye coordination was thrown off. He fell forward with a loud thump.

The sounds of the tavern quieted as everyone turned to see what had caused the noise. Eyes landed on Orrin and traveled down to the moaning body under his feet.

In the eternal silence of that awkwardness, Graem’s staff slipped off the counter as well. Orrin tried to grab it but only succeeded in altering its course. The top gnarled knot beaned Graem in the head.

Well, shit.

The tavern doubled as a small inn with only three rooms. Luckily, two of the rooms were currently unoccupied and Orrin was able to convince the bartender to help him move the unconscious teacher to one of the rooms. It had cost him a gold piece but Orrin didn’t want the rest of the patrons below seeing what he was about to do.

Graem’s frame was hidden under his robes and the bartender had to have a cook from the backroom come out to help carry him up the stairs. Orrin tried to help and felt the hard muscles under the robes. The bartender swatted him away.

One alone, a quick [Identify] relieved Orrin’s final doubts that this was the right person. He took the snoring man’s hand and placed it on his collar, hoping he would be able to deactivate it. No dice. He must need to inject some of his mana into the collar to be able to affect it.

Orrin ran over his options one more time before committing to his plan. First, he checked the profile that Anabella had given him. His name was Casimir Hale. The rest of the file was a list of names and dates that quickly lost meaning to Orrin. He was not going to be able to memorize this in a day, let alone however much time it took for his contact to wake up.

He almost decided to say fuck it and try to improv his backstory. Only a flash of inspiration stopped him from sending the paper up in flames. Taking a notebook from his [Dimension Hole], Orrin began to transcribe the important parts using [Through the Ages].

[Through the Ages]— A unique skill created to pass knowledge through the ages. Only those with the skill or those deemed as the chosen target can read and write information using this skill.

Orrin finished getting the names written down after only ten minutes. Anabella had created an entire family tree for him. Overkill.

Orrin used two fingers to open Graem’s eyelid to see if he was awake but the deep blue orb simply rolled up and away. The scruff on Graem’s face hadn’t been shaved in days and he still smelt of stale beer. With a sigh, he began enacting his plan.

[Remetabolize] needed only one cast before the [Drunk] condition disappeared off Graem Balint. Orrin noted his level was fifty-six, making him one of the highest he’d seen. His class was more interesting.

[Librarian]

A librarian runs the school?

Orrin considered waiting for Graem to wake up naturally but he was on a timer. Anabella had made vague threats about what would happen if Graem didn’t attune to his slave collar in time and he had no intention of finding out if she was joking. He cast [Cure Small Wounds].

Graem continued to snore.

Orrin slapped him across the face.

“What? Where am I?”

Orrin waited for the man to sit back in the bed and take in his surroundings.

“Oh shit,” Graem rubbed his hair back from his eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Did I get drunk again? Leo isn’t going to let me back in. What time is it? Is it morning?”

Orrin tossed the man’s staff back to him. He understood why Chaminda had called it a walking stick. It was less staff in the man’s beefy hand and more twig. “It’s only been a few minutes. I need you to listen. Anabella Sanerris sent me. You have to take this collar off me or we’re both going to die.”

Graem raised an eyebrow and reached toward Orrin. For a moment, he felt relief. He’d successfully bluffed the teacher and was going to be back in Dey within the hour.

Graem’s hand lightly slapped Orrin’s cheek. “Don’t lie to your teachers. It’s not good manners.”

Orrin’s head hung in defeat.

“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow night. I think. What day is it?” Graem stretched and leaned back in the bed. Orrin did not stare at the way the robes fell down his arms to show the biceps bigger than his own legs. Definitely not. “If you’re early, I can’t take care of you. Classes start in two days. Come back tomorrow.”

“I thought classes were supposed to start tomorrow,” Orrin replied. “I’m not lying about dying. Anabella said my collar will kill me if you don’t do something with it.”

Graem narrowed his eyes and squinted in Orrin’s direction. “She did a good job with the [Glamour]. I can barely make you out underneath it. The collar is good work. It’s tough to alter the flow of magic to hide something that also alters the flow of magic. It’s actually interesting. You know the first person to figure out how to move magic that way ended up de—”

“As much fun as a history lesson would be,” Orrin interrupted, “maybe after you make my collar not go boom?”

The man sighed and swung his feet to the side. “Come here.”

Orrin approached cautiously. The hands that reached out slowly encircled him and touched the back of his neck. A tingle across his skin was all the hint he got that it was done.

“Done. Now you are mine. Want to tell me why you’re still alive? I thought Lord Sanerris wanted you dead?”

“How much did Anabella tell you?”

“She said to be ready to help a new student with some interesting magic with whatever you need but to keep you on a literal leash,” Graem said, waiving his hand at the collar he’d just claimed. “She didn’t mention that you’re the [Hero]’s party member who was executed a week or so ago.”

“It’s a long story.”

Graem reached behind him and grabbed ahold of his staff. He pointed it at a chair near the door, which jumped into the air and floated to Orrin. It landed with a soft thump.

“Start from the beginning.”