Hiro awoke to Rina kicking. He groaned, body aching with a dull, persistent pain. Rolling over to stand, he accidentally collided with a pile of books that hadn’t been there the night before. His eyes cracked open, and with an arm that felt like it weighed a ton, he clumsily gathered the books and neatly stacked a column of papers beside them.
“We may look equally awful in the morning, but good grief, you smell way worse,” Rina said, her voice raspy. “The bath is there. Follow me.”
The bookshelf in the corner, behind Rina’s desk, stood slightly ajar, as if it had been moved like a hidden door. With a gentle push, the shelf, mounted on wheels for simple movement, swung open, revealing a narrow door behind it. Rina opened and stepped into a secluded backyard.
The yard was enclosed by high brick walls, with a flagstone floor overrun by persistent weeds. On the far side, away from the small door, stood an outhouse, positioned atop a large magic circle. Next to it, a raised wooden bath rested on a platform. The bath was filled with milky white water, its surface releasing the pleasant scents of soap and perfumes, though it seemed to have been left undisturbed for a long time.
Rina snorted and coughed. “I don’t change the bathwater. I’m too lazy to haul it from the well. I clean it with magic, just like I heat it. The jinx on the toilet keeps the pit’s stench at bay. But don’t even think about bringing a light near it. Last time, Carlo’s cigarette turned into a shower of shit.”
“I prefer the elegant and well spoken Rina who walked the streets with me the other day.” Hiro shook his head. “You could’ve told me before you had a toilet.”
“The nice and polite Rina comes in the afternoon. She’ll apologise to me later. Where have you been peeing?”
“I prefer not to say.”
Rina tossed a towel, but Hiro’s arms, still asleep, failed to catch it. “You heat water, you make the smell go away, amongst many others. I thought a mage can do two or three spells at most.”
“Active! Active and external,” she raised her palms into the air and shrugged. “But well. What can I say? I’m one of the best casters in the world, kiddo. Get over it and shower.”
“No time for showers! You are working today,” yelled Testa from inside the house. As his head popped out, he yelled again. “Hiro is coming to Rufus’ farm with us. To pay back the suppressor you broke!”
Rina’s finger shot up like an arrow. “The kid showers or you’ll have the squits for a week! And…wait, what? You broke a suppressor? How?”
Hiro’s attempt to explain his request to use two inks during the game failed to convince Rina. With a visible display of annoyance, she grabbed Testa by the neck and marched inside, leaving him alone. The cold, used water in the bath turned the experience into more of a punishment than a relief, and he hurried to finish as quickly as he could.
Outside, Mira and Testa waited in the front seat of an open wagon. Ready to pull, a massive, tamed mule flicked its tail to ward off the flies. Mira greeted him with her usual shyness, her face clean and unmarred. As soon as Hiro settled into the empty bed beside them, Testa snapped the reins, and the mule began a slow, steady walk over the cobblestones.
“So, what do you think, Hiro? Any suggestions to improve our game?” Testa said.
Hiro crawled forward to reach their side. “Well, I understand the defenders must defend,” he began, “But I think it would be beneficial for us all to move more around the field. If our defenders push up to at least midfield, we can support each other more effectively. This could give us an advantage against their defenders if their attackers remain forward. There’s no offside, so it leaves us vulnerable, but with a full team attacking, they’d have no choice but to pull their vanguards back as well, right? It’s a transition playing strategy, quite demanding, but it may work.”
“Ah, yes. The old classic transition playing,” testa said with a knowing nod, as if the concept was second nature to him. “We need to transform our people into versatile machines. Like the great Champion, Caster Johnson.”
Muscles ached and his stomach churn from the continuous shaking of the wagon, the relentless jostling over the cobblestones. As they neared the South Gate, Hiro glanced toward the Ball Game stadium, a structure hardly deserving the name. As the wagon approached the city walls, Mira mumbled with eyes narrowed. “Sorry about the ah…t-the gaze.”
“It’s fine.” Hiro said. “Your cat is way more scary.”
The circular arcade of the gate was wide enough to allow two wagons to pass in opposite directions simultaneously. Their own wagon veered left and halted at a checkpoint while another ox-drawn cart, heaped with hay, trundled into the city.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Testa! Captain Sand beat you yesterday, huh? Matino lost a bet because of you, and he won’t let you enter later!”
The guard, Matino, clad in a blue gambeson and gripping a long spear, waved dismissively. “Nah, that was on me. Go ahead. There’ve been ranger reports of human bandits north of the Hills. Stay sharp.”
The cobblestones gave way to a dirt road, offering no respite from the wagon’s jolting. Beyond the city, the landscape unfolded in a patchwork of green fields and golden wheat stretching across gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Farms, windmills, and houses dotted the countryside, each surrounded by farmland and fences to contain cattle, sheep, and, occasionally, horses. Every corner offered something to catch the eye, though the overall atmosphere was one of serene, unhurried life.
The wagon rumbled over a wooden bridge, the creaking timbers straining under the weight. Just beyond, the large wheel of a watermill turned steadily, powered by the flowing creek. After passing the mill, they veered off and entered the fenced boundary of a farm. Rows of tomatoes, corn, and cabbages, along with a variety of other crops, coloured the earth, surrounding a quaint house with stone walls and a wooden roof.
By the side of the house, amidst stacks of crates brimming with vegetables, Rufus waved a friendly greeting, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. Around him, a group of children of various ages dashed about, their gleeful shrieks filling the air with the sounds of carefree play.
“Coach, I can’t make it to training this week, big sorry.” Rufus said. “My Daisy’s feeling ill, and the south vine’s field’s got some bugs.”
Testa sighed while stepping down. Hiro followed, soon finding himself surrounded by an army of children chasing each other, using him as a haven. The children, ranging in age from about ten years old to mere infants, wore cute dresses adorned with the same flowery pattern. Beneath the skirts or just below the bundles of diapers, hairy little legs stamping tiny hooves into the mud. Blonde hair of varying styles crowned each head, all of them sporting two small horns protruding from their scalps. “Which one is Daisy?” Hiro whispered.
“Daisy’s my cow!” To his surprise, Rufus had heard him, perhaps his hearing sharpened by his race or some magical gift, and laughed, a chortle so infectious it spread quickly. “Your name’s Hiro, ain’t it? I’m Rufus. That woman over there’s ma sister, Sussee. She’s here to help with my monsters. Toh’s my eldest, then there’s Mah, the twins Kah and Lah, the toddlers Toss and Sitt, and the babies, Pim and Pam.”
Hiro joined Testa and Mira as they loaded the vegetable baskets onto the wagon. Each basket seemed heavier than the last, soon forcing him to carry them against his chest. Testa climbed onto the wagon bed, rearranging the load as best he could, while Rufus helped Hiro hoist a heavy basket up onto the platform. “Farming builds muscle!” Rufus said, his laughter ringing out more infectious than before.
“Farmin’ build musel! Farmin’ build musel!” repeated one of the toddlers.
Once the wagon was filled, they climbed in, with Hiro taking a seat beside Mira. Their conversation continued, though Hiro comprehended only fragments of it. The world seemed to spin around, and he watched as Mira raised a hand, channelling magic into his Inks. The words once again became clear, yet the heavy burden of exhaustion still weighed upon him. “I still feel exhausted.”
“Magic and endurance are tight.” Testa said. “You can’t cast ink to give you the energy the same ink is taking from you. If that makes sense. Am I correct Miri?”
Mira hummed softly beside him, then talked, but he paid her little mind, seeking only rest. Hiro lay sprawled on the back plank, his eyes shut and indifferent to the surrounding views. When his senses returned from a sudden snooze, the wagon had already rumbled into the city streets. “Thank goodness it’s finished,” he muttered under his breath.
Testa’s laughter filled the air, and Mira chuckled lightly. “Finished? We’ve only picked up the food. We still need to deliver half to Eulalia’s sisters and then head to the Hill’s market to unload the rest!”
Hiro groaned, his face tilting upward to the sky. Memories of his procrastinating days of gaming marched, all equally missed. To his surprise, the wagon slowed and stopped in front of Rina’s house.
“Luckily for you, not today,” Testa said. “Rina requested I bring you back early. Seems you’ve got something important to do. Tomorrow, though, we’ll have a full day.”
Hiro dismounted with unsteady legs. “Can’t we postpone all that until next week? I need to recover.”
Testa snapped the reins, oblivious to Hiro’s seriousness. As the wagon rolled away, they waved farewell; Hiro returned the gesture halfheartedly, dragging his feet toward the house.
Inside, Rina sat at her desk, her appearance dishevelled as ever, though her concentration seemed undisturbed by drink. Hiro dropped to the floor, pulling a blanket over himself, desperate for rest. “Tell me you’ve found a way to send me back to my world.”
“Nope,” she replied, without neglecting her notes.
“I just want to return to my life and do nothing.”
Rina sighed, raising her head and smacking a stack of papers into alignment. “Good grief. You’re a young man; you should be bursting with energy and ambition.” She handed him a few sheets. “Here, I’ve made more translations for you. With these books and my notes, you can start learning our language. I still struggle with the variations in yours. We have only one type of lettering here, much simpler than your logographic characters. They’re driving me mad.”
Reluctantly taking one paper, he sat up. Her writings were of her own language alongside a confusing mix of katakana and hiragana. “Do I really have to do this now?”
“Unless you prefer to sleep outside and go hungry, you have two options: stay here and learn, or join Testa and work.”
Hiro sighed heavily, grabbing one book with a resigned expression.