Clouds littered the sky, masking the sun. Groups of people were scattered across a vast landscape of grass. Concrete arenas with no walls covered the half of it, several dozen all together. Fighters fought using a mix of martial weapons and melee combat. What seemed to be going on here was a mix of school and dojo.
I looked behind me and a door was evident, standing in place with no apparent wall to support it. Several other doors marked different sides of the area, all respecting some kind of invisible wall. I put my hand next to the door, and felt this to be true. My hand stopped against something firm.
“Makes the lights seem insignificant now, doesn’t it?” Mr. Murdock asked. He chuckled and put a pat on my back.
“Just a bit.” I whispered.
“Very powerful wizards created this when Laria was first born by the Pantheon of gods. It has been around just as long as the planet itself.”
I wanted to ask more questions about Laria, the pantheon of gods, and a bunch of other random information, but held it in and took a breath. Let’s let the academy do its thing and see if I can tease out some answers over the long run. It's a marathon, not a sprint.
As Mr. Murdock gave me a quick tour and explanation. The prick performed on me not only was used for record keeping, but was part of the class initiation process. He described how Ara, the goddess of Initiation, looks over all new transports as they begin their life on Laria. He described this process as us being reborn into a better society, a second chance on life, because we had failed in some way in our first.
So, it seems everyone knows they aren’t from here originally, but are grateful for this “second chance.” Sounds like propaganda bullshit to me.
Everything we did over the next several days would be “seen” by Ara, and she would determine the class best suited for us. I asked if there were ways to change someone’s class. He said in the history books it has been done, but always granted by a god or goddess for a deed well done–or a deed that deserved punishment.
Once your class has been selected, a group of advisors make their way to the academy from all over the kingdom. These advisors teach basic skills of your new class. Mr. Murdock explained that some classes were quite diverse, and advisors for every specialty could not always be found in time. In these cases, they would just divide people up into generally similar classes. The example he gave me was a group dedicated to construction, but that one group may contain masons, woodworkers, architects, and so on.
After one week of training, scores were issued to everyone. They would show up in the magical book as well as similar tomes at different Adoption registrars throughout the region at their training centers. The scores were 1-100, and you would have two. The first was a general overall rating on how you did during the week long training. The second was a score given by your advisor regarding how successful he thought you would be in your given class.
This opened many opportunities, or limited them, depending on your score. The better the class, the more well-off families would want you to join their clan. When I seemed concerned about this, Mr. Murdock told me to not worry. Everyone was offered a place according to their experience. There were too many wars, and not enough bodies. The transport process seemed to replenish the numbers, but only just.
Due to showing up late, I missed the first day of sparring class—(fine by me—but was able to join a general history of Laria. I sat down with about a dozen others, some bleeding and bruised from their fighting earlier in the day. Everyone was wearing a standard issue uniform. Black pants, black boots, and a black long sleeve shirt with a white symbol on the breast.
The symbol depicted a woman with flowing robes slipping off her shoulders, and a slit up the middle making the appearance almost seductive. Her hands were outstretched to either side, palms facing outward. A circle surrounded this image, with tiny circles superimposed over the line of the circle, creating a total of twelve dots. Clearly this had some significance, so I would have to ask about this later if this history class didn’t reveal the answer.
I was the lone person without a uniform, which earned me some curious glances. I just smiled in return. Mr. Murdock had told me someone would seek me out and lead me to my room where a uniform would be waiting.
We listened like eager kindergartners on our first day of school, sitting cross legged in the grass. All of my “classmates” were human, as was everyone I could see. The female teacher was tall and slender with flowing blonde hair just past her shoulders. Freckles lined her pale nose and cheek bones. She wore a variation of the standard uniform, but with white pant legs instead of black, and no shoes.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Good sparring today students, and welcome to our late straggler.” She smirked, glancing at me with deep green eyes. The shade was certainly unusual by earthly standards.
I can paint my own target on my back well enough, thank you.
“My name is Leona Glim. I’ll be continuing our topic from this morning. First, who remembers who created Laria?” she asked.
Everyone, but me, raised their hand.
“Mr. Better-late-than-never, would you care to answer?”
“I was not here this morning, so I do not know the answer Ms. Glim.” I played my response straight. Of course, my first teacher would be someone who had an issue with tardiness.
“Yes, but how about an educated guess then?”
She proved unrelenting in her effort to paint that target. It dawned on me that, indeed, I had known the answer to the question. Mr. Murdock had inadvertently given me a brief history lesson when describing this very space.
“The pantheon of gods, I assume.” I offered a polite smile, although inwardly wanted to replace “I assume” with “suck it.”
Her eyebrows lifted in a moment of surprise before being replaced with her natural RBF look. “Yes, correct Vince.” She could barely hide her disappointment.
I laughed inwardly. 1-0, good guys.
She went on to explain that the Pantheon had 12 gods and goddesses. Each oversaw one race. For example, Ara, the goddess of the transport initiation, was also the goddess that watched over Humans. Thus, in most towns and cities, you would find her visage displayed in the local churches.
The other gods and goddesses were all worshiped to some degree for their various responsibilities maintaining the good of Laria.
I found out the name of the cat-lion-creature’s race was Kathari. They were known primarily as a warrior race, and were often hired as mercenaries by the other races. Just like in fantasy literature from Earth, the races were largely recognizable to me from previous games and movies. Elves, Dwarves, and several others that you could find in most fantasy tomes. Sometimes the names were different, like the Kathari for example, but the descriptions still fit.
Humans were currently at war with the Kathari and the Fhalines, which were described to me as a humanoid lizard. The Fhalines had been warring with Humans for fifteen years. The Fhalines got the worse end over the first dozen years, as mankind had taken over many small villages and several major cities. Then a rather lucrative mercenary deal brought the Kathari in, and the tides turned.
I absorbed this information like a sponge. For the first time since being here, the painful memories about my wife and old home were lost in the ultimate nerd fantasy playing out before me as real history. I could tell my fellow Transports were learning, but only because that was what they had to do. They were, essentially, babies trying to grasp everything they heard. It was their new reality. They had nothing with which to compare it, no sense of amazement or wonder held for longer than a few seconds before they processed it as the new norm.
Turns out, all of this was not implemented with their new memories. I began to wonder why that was. Why go through this process to begin with? Just pick our class, shove the appropriate memories in there, and be done with it.
Once the lesson concluded, a new staff member took my group through the door I had entered through previously. Instead of going back downstairs to the lobby, we went up one more flight of stairs. More amazing reality-bending magic stood before me , a hallway bigger than any freshman dormitory I had ever seen. The walls were smooth stone, and the floors a deep, rich brown of well-maintained wood. Every door was painted white, which also seemed comprised of quality wood.
Everyone went to their respective rooms, labeled with numbers. The numerals were written in a standard, Earth-like fashion. I was taken to room 185. Just like with the previous floors, magic clearly had a hand here. It was still small, maybe 400 square feet, but was too big to have been the standard dimensions given the outside appearance.
The room had a view of a rolling green hills like the town of Favor. A desk in the corner held parchment, Several dozen books lined a bookcase, and on the bed was a uniform. A silver bracelet sat upon it like the one I had seen on Mahar, just much simpler. The following screen appeared when I held the item in my hand and thought Analyze.
Bracelet of Storage
Rarity - Common
Quality – Average
Max items held – 10, similar items may stack in 10s within one slot.
Max money held – 25 gold
The staff member let us know food would be delivered in a few moments. I looked at the titles on the bookshelf, which were in English, and found some to be useful. “History of Laria, Pt. 1,” and “The Magic of Laria,” both caught my attention. I placed them on my desk for future reading.
I sat at the edge of the bed and took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts for the day. It was clear that my class would be extremely important. Not only would it decide my vocation for however long I was on this planet, but also be key factor determining my income, who I could meet, and the connections I will make. It was clear to me that if I had any desire to return home, it would require magic, and maybe even be approved by a god or goddess. I had a feeling they wouldn't just approve that sort of thing for the hell of it, either. They were the ones who teleported me here in the first place.
The beginnings of my plan required a few things. Money, power, connections, and more money. If I got stuck with a farmer class, my chances of finding out how to get off this planet would be, essentially, nonexistent.
I would have to focus, learn as much as I could, and fight like my life depended on it. I needed to try everything I could to get back home. Becoming a figure worth respecting would be a step in the right direction, and I don’t think a steward gets the attention of the gods too often. However, option two, if I were to be stuck here, I refused be a medieval farmer for the rest of my life. With that motivation, I opened “The Magic of Laria” and began my studies.