While they had passed through a few villages along the way, Remdell assured Terry that he should wait until they reached the town of New Lushion to cash out the bandit heads. Apparently, there was some kind of guild there that would pay him more. With no better information to go on, Terry agreed. When they entered the town, though, Terry wasn’t sure if he should feel disappointed or baffled. The place looked like what he imagined medieval European towns looked like. This is more like one of those weird anime movies that jumble up Eastern and Western influences, thought Terry. The next thing I know, there’s going to be some creepy, powerful church organization that’s just full of zealots looking to kill everyone who likes the color green because green is the color of some long-dead pagan god that’s prophesied to rise again and plunge the world into eternal darkness. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Terry stopped walking. He realized what he’d done as soon as he did it, but it was too late. He’d had the idea. It was in the universe now. Did I just invoke the self-fulfilling prophecy? Wait, did I just death flag myself?

Panic started to well up inside of him, threatening to overwhelm reason before he remembered something. I didn’t say it out loud! Oh, thank God. He started breathing again and jogged to catch up with the farmer’s cart. He still couldn’t shake the impression that the whole place didn’t really fit the whole cultivation novel impression he’d started with. I’m going to have to start calling this place something else. Anime hell, maybe? Animanga Hell? No, that’s stupid. Screw it. I’m just going to call it Chinese Period Drama Hell. Then, they rounded a corner, and a huge, sprawling building that just screamed, I’m A Church, was revealed. Almost against his will, Terry looked over at Remdell.

“What’s that place?” he asked.

“That’s the church. Didn’t you have those up north?” asked Remdell, giving him a strange look.

Dammit, that was too much ignorance. Stupid self-fulfilling prophecy. I look suspicious now. Deflect. Deflect!

“We did,” said Terry hurriedly. “They were just more modest. Nothing as big as this.”

“Oh, yes, this is a grand church. Everyone is very proud of it.”

Tovan nodded happily, his eyes bright. Even Mira smiled at the church. Harena, on the other hand, gave the building a look of such blind hatred that Terry almost took a step back. Clearly, all was not well between her and whatever god they worshiped in this world, or maybe it was just the church. He wasn’t about to ask. She saw him looking at her, and he got more of the usual loathing expression. I’m not going to miss those looks, he thought. Not one little bit. Terry took the break in the conversation to fall back a little. He didn’t see any reason to draw more attention to himself and his ignorance. Remdell pulled the cart to a stop near an intersection.

“This is where we part ways for now,” said the farmer, pointing down the cross-street. “If you go into that building at the end of the street, the one with the plaque on the front, you’ll be able to trade in those bandit heads for some coin.”

“I appreciate the directions,” said Terry, feeling confident that this was a great time for them all to never see each other again.

“Happy to help. Least I can do after you saved us twice. Now, we’re headed to the market. It’s straight down this street,” said the farmer, pointing directly ahead. “We stay at an inn called the Farmer’s Rest.”

Terry lifted an eyebrow at that. “The Farmer’s Rest?”

Remdell chuckled.

“I know. The man who bought the place doesn’t have much imagination. But the place is clean. Prices are reasonable. Well, they’re reasonable for in town.”

“Good to know,” said Terry. “Maybe, I’ll see you there later.”

Just as he was about to make good his departure, Mira jumped down from the cart, ran over to him, and wrapped him in a teary-eyed, assets-pressing hug. Tovan watched the whole thing with a vaguely confused look, while Harena glared at him in the least shocking turn of events ever. Remdell just shook his head.

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“Thank you so much for saving us,” the teen gushed. “You’re my hero.”

In what had become an ironclad tradition, Terry gave her back the three requisite pats, then spoke the mandated word.

“Sure.”

Much to Terry’s relief, she only hung on him for about thirty seconds longer than was actually necessary. Then, she trudged over to the cart and climbed back in. Remdall and Tovan waved, while Harena ignored him, and Mira turned her face away. A move that might have been more effective if he hadn’t seen the tears. A reaction that seemed monumentally overblown, given just how little she knew about him. This place is so strange, thought Terry. Oh well, time to get paid. Walking down the street without the farmer’s cart right next to him felt a little odd, but it was also liberating. That annoying, ill-defined sense of responsibility he’d felt toward the family had finally lifted. He could just get whatever money the bandits were worth and go. No hard feelings. All the same, he had a feeling that the farmers had provided him with a certain amount of camouflage.

If the stupidly pretty people were looking for him, which felt almost inevitable to him, they’d likely be looking for lone travelers. One more man trundling along next to a farmer’s cart wasn’t likely to draw that much attention. Well, it probably wouldn’t, except for the swords. Those still made him feel conspicuous, especially because he wasn’t at all confident that he’d suddenly be able to use one again if the need arose. The other-knowledge sort of stirred and rumbled in his head like it was going to do something, so he shoved against it with all his might until it quieted down. The last thing he wanted to do was test his Terry becomes a sociopathic douchebag with a murder-boner theory. He was saving that for a truly desperate hour. Something else that felt like an inevitability. He was going to do his best to avoid things that might end with him in a desperate hour situation, but the Wheel of Destiny seemed determined that he was going to keep getting a poop emoji on every spin.

Shaking off that surreal thought, Terry walked up the steps of the building. He stopped long enough to look at the stone plaque. It was shaped a bit like a shield with a crossed sword and arrow in relief. Across the top of the plaque was one word: Adventurers. There’s been everything else in this grab-bag of misery, thought Terry. Why not throw an adventurer’s guild into the mix? He opened the door and walked inside. He didn’t really have any expectations, so he wasn’t disappointed or excited by what he saw. There were a few tables scattered throughout the large open room, most of them occupied. The people occupying them, though, were a strange mix. He saw a few that he slotted firmly into the stupidly pretty people category. They looked definitively Asian and wore versions of the ornate robes he’d seen on the jackholes who had originally summoned him to this world. They also kept to themselves. The rest of the tables were occupied by people who looked solidly Western or Eurasian. Some of them wore robes, while others wore shirts and pants, and some even had various kinds of armor. Terry didn’t know anything about armor, though, so he had no idea if it was special or garbage.

There was a counter at the back of the room that might have served as a bar in another location. It might be one here, too, for all I know. There was a neatly dressed woman standing behind the bar giving him a questioning look, though. He did his best to affect nonchalance as he made his way over to the counter.

“Yes,” said the woman in a professionally bored voice.

“I killed some bandits on my here. I was told there might be a bounty for them, and that I should come here.”

“We do require proof of the kills.”

Terry held up the sack.

“Will their heads do?”

The woman lifted an eyebrow and a smidgen of respect might have crept into her features. She gestured that he should hand her the sack, which he did, feeling a little reluctant about it. He’d been carrying that thing around for days. It almost felt wrong to give it up. Terry wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the woman calmly dumping the heads onto the counter hadn’t been it. His stomach started to lurch around, but the heads weren’t the decaying horrors that he’d expected. They were definitely human heads, and definitely dead, but the skin had simply gone a grayish color. Maybe that sack really is magical, thought Terry. Or maybe things just work differently here. The woman asked him for a few details about where it had happened, then reached under the counter and pulled out a stack of papers. She rifled through the papers, occasionally comparing an image on one to the heads. When she found a match, she slapped the paper against the head. There was a tiny flash of light, and the paper seemed to affix itself. When it was all said and done, she counted out seven silver coins and two dozen copper coins. She put them into a pouch and offered it to him along with the empty sack. He accepted them both, wondered where he could wash the sack, and turned to go.

“You’re not going to haggle?” she asked.

He looked at her and asked, “Would it get me more coins?”

“No,” she admitted, “but everyone does it.”

Terry frowned thoughtfully before he shrugged.

“Why waste both our time?”

The woman shifted her gaze out to the rest of the room.

“That is how a professional behaves,” she announced.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, bemoaned Terry internally. Lady, you are going to get me jumped in the parking lot.