Somewhere in the vast expanse of space an Entity sprawled through nothingness. Form intangible, It contained power unimaginable, but not wielded for eons past. A Consciousness deep and vast that could grasp universes whole lay blank, numb to thought or feeling. It was comfortable and warm; content and satiated. But Its state was a beautiful lie.

In ages past, worlds were created. Beautiful and magnificent ideas were realized. Life was made. Laws were set. Change occured. Experiences were had. Love, fear, pain, happiness, and more were all learnt. Eventually it came to an end, and the cycle began anew, repeating over and over.

The Being watched at first, captivated by its creations, each new spark a wonder. Soon, It sought variations, poked at the strings of fate, cut out the likely and pasted new possibilities.

Miracles happened, some good, some bad, all novel and interesting. Worlds warped and melded together. For some, it was pandemonium, for others, true bliss. The Being sought all and it obtained all. It smiled, It cried, It raged, It trembled. It learnt of life and death, perpetually discovering the self propagated secrets It set in motion in ages past. Possibilities of possibilities of possibilities were read like an open book.

All of creation was realized and the Entity was fulfilled and so it stopped and just existed. But It was bored. For all the power It contained, It felt like It could do nothing. And so It floated, thoughtless and formless. Ideas, feelings, events flighted by but were discarded as old, mundane, uninteresting. The Entity withered, power accessible but useless, and thus imperfect. It was broken, empty. It sought and desired but nothing came, because nothing could come.

And so the Creator uncreated itself.

_______

As I opened my eyes and sat up, I was assaulted by a profound and pervasive feeling of wrongness. It was the kind of feeling you get when you wake up in a new and unfamiliar place, multiplied by a thousand, with a cockroach sharing your pillow and a lawnmower going off right outside the window. A nagging, annoying wrongness so absolute that the only reasonable course of action was to exclaim, “What the flip!”.

Looking around, I had no clue where I was. I was sitting on a dirty cobblestone walkway of an alley, squeezed between two stone buildings, surrounded by crates, broken wood, and garbage bins. Am I dreaming? I pinched myself and winced. Was I kidnapped? Two nearby ruckus men were facing each other aggressively and caught my eye.

One guy was shockingly tall and muscled with latissimus and trapezius noticeable through the failed attempt at discretion he wore in the form of a dark cloak. If The Rock and Arnold Schwarzenegger had a lovechild who got into too many knife fights and had his face repeatedly smashed in, this would be the resulting monster. Am I on a movie filming stage or something?

The other guy was not a small man by any means but was dwarfed by The Rockzeneggerzilla. He was thicker and had a paunch and reminded me of gym bros that work in construction, a weathered sun-beaten look to him. He was scowling up a storm as he yelled out in gruff tone, “That rat tried to steal my hard earned coin! Who in the Sundered World do you think you are to get in the way of my sending him back to his maker?

The responding voice wasn’t the deep masculin bass I half expected from the mysterious giant and came from somewhere lower than his face. A smaller, more normal sized man paced out from the giant’s shadow and spoke in a smooth self-assured tone, “So the kid tried to steal from you. So he got caught. Such is the way of the world, isn’t it, friend? The Workers work, the Fighters fight, the Vagrants steal. Isn’t that how the saying goes?” The diplomatic smooth-talker twiddled with a coin in one hand, having it dance over his fingers before sending it in the reverse direction and repeating the cycle. He continued, “He tried, he failed, and he’s got a nasty bump on the noggin’ to show for it. Let’s leave it there and call it a lesson learned for the betterment of All and the One. “Experience won is experienced for the One”, am I right?”. He quoted a saying I’ve never heard before, or at least I thought I had never heard before. I’m not really sure of anything at this point. Last I remember I was lying on my couch passing out after another grueling day of working at the hospital, taking care of the whiniest, most self-absorbed, impatient patients. The back of my head hurts and I’m starting to feel nauseous. I lie back down, heart pounding, a cold sweat pouring off me, trying to nope out of this situation.

The paunchy man spluttered indignantly, an impressive red hue filling his visage, “Don’t you- That’s not what- How dare you use Our One’s True Words to defend this rat! I’ll call the guards and have you all face proper judgement!” The smooth-talker’s pitch apparently had a hint of condescension that triggered the holy indignation of a fanatic. The paunchy man began making for the alley exit but even I, in my disorientation and nausea, could tell that was not going to fly.

“Guards? Guards! GU-“ the indignant man’s shout was staunched by a huge hand enclosing his throat with practiced ease.

“If you don’t want a face full of fist you’re going to walk away quietly and forget this ever happened” Batman? Is that you? Rockzeneggerzilla pressed the paunchy man against the alley’s wall eliciting a louder than expected thump. “Do you understand?” The poor paunch’s eyes popped out of his face like one of those squeezy key chains as he tried to nod his acquiescence and gasp for breath.

“Good. Leave,” and the paunch scampered away.

Smooth talker heaved a dramatic sigh, “Civility hasn’t been working out well for us lately, has it, Brute?”

Brutezilla rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t want that to happen, Dagger. You were poking the plaguebeast and you know it”. He turned towards me and seemed even bigger than I had first thought, his calf seemed to be literally as wide as my torso. “You alright kid? Didn’t get pushed too bad? Can you stand?” Without waiting for me to respond he lifted me onto my feet from my underarms. Kid?! I’m a 28 year old man! Dignity aside, that’s not how you approach a medical emergency situation! Both my inner healthcare professional and my manliness were cringing but I had other, more pressing concerns;

“I don’t think s-,” A wave of nausea overwhelmed me and I hurled an empty stomach all over the mysterious giant’s cloak. I performed an impressive bourgeois lady’s syncope onto the ground as Brute deadpanned me. Dagger cackled.

“Halt, guardsmen here. Put your hands where I can see them”

“Time to make our dashing escape after our heroic rescue. Isn’t that right, Brute?”

“Shuddup and run, Dagger” Brute paused to consider me as I lay still mildly hyperventilating and half-conscious on the ground. “Come on kid. We’re not leaving you behind,” Brute said as he walked towards me and effortlessly hauled me up over his shoulder as we exited stage right.

Oh flip no.

The world spun as I was tousled around on my brutish rescuer’s shoulder. I was vaguely aware of the throngs of people walking by, going about their day, and the stone and wooden buildings we passed by. I got the impression of an old European town, but the people threw me for a loop. I couldn’t see any denim or flashy colours, most dressed in simple drab linens. Brow furrowed, I brought a hand in front of my face for examination and felt my stomach drop in horror.

These are not my hands.

They’re the hands of a child, filthy and thin with broken fingernails and bloody cuts that looked mildly infected. These aren’t my hands!!! The feeling of wrongness makes sense now, as my mind caught up with my subconscious. These hands weren’t the same shade, the same shape as mine. There was no hair on the knuckles or scar near the wrist from who knows what. These… are NOT MY HANDS!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Heeeeiinnnn,” I let out a painful moaning sound halfway between weep and whale, drawing Brute’s attention.

“You okay there, kid? Sorry for the bumpy ride. We’re heading to a safehouse. We’ll be there in a moment”. Quiet sobs were his only reply as tears streamed down my face and my whole body trembled.

“Kid must’ve gotten knocked a bit harder than it looked. I’m pretty sure that guy was a Strongman or working towards it. I saw how much you worked to move him against the wall. Sure you haven’t been neglecting the training Brute?”

“The only neglecting I’ve been doing is not kicking your ass enough. The guy had Increased Mass. Good skill. Might actually hurt if he knew how to fight. We’re almost there. We’ll get him checked out soon”.

I took some deep breaths to try and get more settled. The scenery changed from solid stone houses to more rundown shacks and tents. I didn’t need the pungent smell of urine to know we were making our way through a slum. A few more minutes brought us into a small shack the size of a garden shed where I was rather gently deposited onto a cot. Wiry strong fingers felt up the back of my head and I felt a stab of pain.

“Just a tiny cut, nothing doing. Rest up and you’ll be fine.” Dagger explained but I had had enough.

“That is not how you perform a neurological examination!” I exclaim in frustration in a squeaky prepubescent alto that only made my frustration and fear grow worse.

“Neura-what? Listen kid, we’re not the Clerics of that One True asshole. We bailed you out of your screw up of a pickpocketing because of Brute’s hero fetish but don’t expect the royal treatment. Healing arts are expensive”

Well flip. I’ve gone and pissed off the only people I can count on for support in this strange situation. I would feel remorse and apologize but the spinning room and fulminant nausea were more pressing concerns. I groan out, “Uuuurgh. I think I have a concussion”.

Brute shoved Dagger out of the way. “Don’t mind Dagger, kid, he just hates everything because they’re not how they should be,” he said as he placed a bucket of water and a rag next to the cot. “What’s your name kid? And what’s this about a con cushion and new logical exam?”.

Being horizontal and breathing deep and slow was doing wonders for my vertigo so I felt more comfortable spewing words, “Concussion; trauma to the head or brain causing bruising and swelling. Neuro exams check for that. Can you call an ambulance? ... is healthcare publicly funded here? Where is here anyways?

Brute’s eyes went a bit wide and he met Dagger’s whose mirrored his expression. My anxiety spurred me to continue on, “I’m Henry by the way. From Toronto. I’m a nurse. I work at Toronto General in long-term-care”.

“Kid, look at me,” Brute said and I did. I noticed he was a lot older than I originally placed him. He had tired eyes - not the kind that a good twelve hour beauty sleep would cure, but the kind where they’re just tired of seeing things. He had a severely lined faced and heavy brow with a few haphazard scars on his cheeks and forehead. His short cropped hair was completely grey. He asked me, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight, why?”

Brute got up and went over to huddle with Dagger. In hushed tones that I could still hear, he began, “This kid needs healing. He’s talking like he’s got the plague. He just got a little bump on the head so the cost shouldn’t be too much”

Dagger’s voice was laced with venom and spite as he replied, “Cut it down, Brute. You can’t keep doing this. Some random Vagrant doesn’t deserve your money, your time, or your consideration. He’ll probably go spend it on whores or grass. We owe him nothing.” Whores or grass? Please, I’ll have you know I’m willingly celibate due to the fact that I can’t intelligibly talk to attractive women. And why would I spend money on grass? I’m not a cow. 

Brute went stiff and silent. I felt like I wanted to say something to justify my worth but words didn’t come. I noticed that Dagger was twiddling a knife instead of his usual coin, and that Brute had a leather bandolier underneath his cloak fully laced with knives. I was not comfortable with these people!

Silence pressed on for a while before Dagger continued, “You know the clergy will charge you an arm and a leg. This kid isn’t related to you at all. He has a different story, he’s broken in a different way. A way you can’t fix”. Hey, I’m not that broken, and I’m right here listening! Their bedside manners suck. He has a point though, I am kinda broken, in more ways than one. But still, where’s the humanity?

Something in Brute snapped. “Shut up, Dagger,” he said as he clenched his fists, “I know that. I know all that. I still give no fucks. I’ll take him over to Mercier. He should be fair. And sort of tolerable. '' He turned to me and asked me if I could walk. I wanted to say no but was not willing to be carried again so I shakily got to my feet, swaying slightly. The nausea and vertigo were mostly settled but I was beginning to feel very lightheaded, as though I had risen from the couch too fast and my blood pressure dropped. Or that time I discontinued one of my antidepressants because it wasn’t working and I got withdrawals for a few days. I felt like thoughts came difficultly and I was living through a dream drunk. It wasn’t a horrible sensation.

“Do you have any pharmacies around here? I want to make sure I can get my medication while living in another world”

“Sure kid. We’ll take you there after our visit to the healer. You said your name was Henry, right? Do you live close by? Do you have… anyone who looks out for you?”

I took some time to consider these questions. They seemed confusing to me. I felt like I was back at university trying to guess a fill-in-the-blank question on a test. “I am Henry. I live pretty far from here, I think. North York in Toronto. Canada. Walking distance from work. Is that far from here? Where is here?”

“You’re in Keratan, capital of the human kingdom Keranan. We’re in the south-eastern edge of the residential district, called Edgewood - named that because most of the buildings are made of wood and we’re on the edge of the city”. Words flowed into one of my ears and out the other as I followed the differing duo through this slum until we reached a surprisingly well-built wooden chapel about ten minutes from the safehouse.

“This. This is a nice house. I want to live in a house like this,” I said. I noticed that instead of the customary cross on the roof there was a pyramidal metal fixture. It was a branching diagram or pedigree, but had the same general structure repeated four times rotated on their axis slightly so they didn’t overlap. This symbol worried me for some reason.

“Listen guys. I really need some medical attention. Praying the hurt away won’t work in this case. Is there no hospital or clinic around?” I was largely ignored but Brute mentioned that the healer was inside as I followed him in.

Inside the spacious chapel hall were the standard wooden rows of benches and a couple of people sitting in silence. At the front alter was a preaching podium set up in front of a larger metal pedigree symbol.

Brute went down a side hall to fetch this Mercier while I sat with Dagger on one of the benches to wait.

“So I get you’re Dagger ‘cause of that Dagger you twiddle. Why not coin though? You twiddle a coin too. And why is Brute Brute? He’s so nice. He should be called Huggable or mister Rogers or something. Do you two have real names? Or is it a ‘I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you’ kind of thing. I don’t think I’d want to know then, but I am very curious. Can I get a nickname too? Besides just ‘kid’. You can call me ‘Blue Thunder’ and my secret attack will be making a face like this” I squint my eyes and open my mouth just slightly, imagining a passing breeze flowing through my hair.

Dagger’s coin magically turned into a dagger again as he looked at me, eye twitching and said, “I swear if you don’t shut up the only nickname you’ll have is ‘dead’. They’ll put ‘died of stupidity’ on your eulogy. People are staring and we don’t want attention”. I noticed a few other visitors were throwing weird looks our way and I indentured to silence.

After a few moments Dagger whispered, “I’m Dagger because daggers are useful. Preparing food, tailoring clothes, carving material… or just cutting things. Daggers are essential, they get things done. And I can’t solve problems with a coin”.

“Not with that attitude,” I whispered back, “have you never heard of throwing money at a problem and it goes away? Besides, do you really have just the one coin? That would be kinda sad. You sure you’re not a ‘vagrant’ too?”.

I saw a vein begin to pulse in Dagger’s hand as he clenched it around his coin. “You may be right, kid. Maybe I can solve problems with coins. Maybe I’ll start with you, for practice”. I resubmitted my indentiture to silence with a slight bitterness in my heart: he started it!

Time passed and I was beginning to feel tired. We must have been waiting for half an hour by now.

Eventually we were led by a shaven-headed robed young man into a side room of the chapel, down some stone stairs, into a cozy basement room well-lit by candles. I saw Brute waiting inside beside another middle-aged shaven-headed robed man as I was directed to sit on a comfortable bed. My eyes drooped with fatigue as the older clergyman placed a hand on my forehead and I felt warmth spread from his touch. After a few seconds he said, “Six seconds of Healing Touch at 5 lauryls per second. Your total will be three-hundred and fifty royal marks”

I saw Brute wince, “Not able to give a discount for us Mercier? I’d owe you one”.

The man I now placed as the healer Mercier frowned, “You still owe me for the last time, Brute. I can’t keep skimping on fees; the kingdom’s Clerks audit me to the Abyss for every lauryl I use and the discrepancy comes out of the chapel’s upkeep budget. The most I can do is remove the caregiving fee which brings the price to three-hundred marks”. I noticed Mercier was holding a shiny purple rock.

Brute sighed and passed over a handful of coins. With a hasty thanks to the priest we were dismissed with a “May the One be with You and You be with the One”. I was led out of the chapel but before we got far Brute took a knee, bringing him to my eye level once more and asked, “How are you feeling now, kid?”

It was a good question. I felt kind of numb with all that has transpired within the last few hours. Truth be told, all I wanted to do was to take a good nap and deal with whatever the heck was going on tomorrow. My head felt a bit clearer though, and I somehow knew these two strangers went out of their way to ensure I was alright. I felt deeply touched and appreciative, more than I could say.

“I’m okay. But I need to thank you, really. I didn’t know what to do at all in that situation. I still don’t really. But thank you so much for helping me when you really didn’t ha- “

“Kid,” Dagger interrupted my thankful gush with an evil smile as he caressed his trusty dagger, “You owe us now. And the Expedient Gents are widely known in the darker crowds to always ensure their dues are paid in full”

Brute grunted, “Glad you’re feeling better kid. What Dagger means to say is… welcome to one of the most infamous group of thugs in Keranan” They both grin as I have a clenching feeling in my gut. What have I gotten myself in to? I start sweating again when suddenly a clear thought arose from the depths of my mind:

Class changed: Vagrant → Peon

What the flip!