The next day, there's already daylight streaming in the window of my room when I drag myself out of bed. They always made it sound like hangovers are absolute shit, so maybe I didn't get drunk, because I'm just groggy with a touch of a headache.
I really, really need some water though. When I stagger back down into the bar, business has let up, only a few people at the tables and some servers going around cleaning everything up.
When I slouch into a bar chair and ask for some water, and then some food when I realize I'm still starving, I see that it's still Limmera working at the bar. Did he go home before I woke up? How fucking long was I out?
When I ask, he gives his usual hearty laugh and tells me twelve hours.
Right. Well, I went through hell yesterday with the whole starting a new life in a magical fantasy world surrounded by racist anima- altras – I remind myself.
Who can blame me for oversleeping?
After breakfast with two big mugs of water, costing some seemingly random quantity of the coins I earned yesterday, I head back to the guild.
Malic's at the reception desk, so I go over to him.
“Back already?” he asks for some reason. “I thought you were coming back tomorrow.”
“Uhh?” But it is tomorrow? It was already nighttime when I arrived, then I did a ridiculously long work shift and overslept. “How long are the days here?”
“Seventy two hours. Oh, I suppose you might not know that.” What.
“But, but it was nighttime before, and now it's daytime.”
“I'm familiar with those words from your language, but they are not useful on Verilz. You see, what you call a day, we call 'nen' and a better translation would actually be 'cycle' because we measure time based on the celestial cycles in the sky, which take a bout seventy two hours to repeat.”
At first, I sum up his drawn out explanation as them basing their days on when the sun comes up like back on Earth, but then I remember, they have multiple suns here, that would totally complicate things.
But he isn't done. “The cycles bring about a few light and dark periods, but we do not call them day and night since there are more than one of each every day.”
So, what he's saying is I came when it was dark and now it's light, but it's just another period of light during the same day. 'Nen.' 'Cycle.' Whatever.
Damn it that's confusing.
“Alright, so it's actually still the same day, got it.” I'll just put that whole thing aside to think about later. “Can I ask some questions anyway?”
“Sure.”
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Time starts to fly. I spend my days working myself ragged, collapsing into bed, and going to the guild to fire off an endless series of questions about everything under the sun. Oh, uh, suns.
I actually start to pick up more of the language. I'd heard that when people move to another country where they don't know the language, they're forced to learn fast, and I guess there's some truth to that.
Downside: now I can tell some of what the racist bar patrons are saying and it's... not pretty.
It's mostly the casual rape jokes that make me really fucking uncomfortable.
I'm glad I still can't understand most of the words, sparing me most of the gory details...
Upside: the remainder of the patrons are starting to recognize me, their kindness and familiarity making up for the bad ones. It's mostly adventurers from the guild since we're just a couple blocks away from there.
As for the guild, I quickly start picking up information so I'll be able to live here. Just like last time, first comes my location: Karshis on the Plane of Tirneth. When that word makes no sense to me, the receptionist that day explains it's named after a monster unique to this plane. Good enough, I guess.
Of course, my next questions are about the primary thing that's already been hinted at being essential to life in this world: crests.
In a way, it's simple. But also incredibly confusing.
To put it simply, they're magical tattoos that make people stronger so they can survive better in this apparently very dangerous world.
For the complicated part... The way they describe it, the crests create a connection to racially attuned celestial beings which afford a portion of their magical power to the people of this world based on a number of factors like achievements and type of crest.
Even though the receptionist gives the explanation in English, it feels like we're speaking different languages.
I guess I'll understand better once I get a crest of my own. Which... I actually forgo for the moment.
Two reasons. Ok, one is just an excuse, but still.
First there are a few different types of crests, and it costs money to get them. Basic crests are so cheap I could have afforded one with the money I made my first day here. The peasants in this world all get basic crests. However, they don't do much to make you stronger.
It's the adventurer crest that I'd want to get in the long term if I really do intend to go out and explore this world more. They're a lot more expensive, but like I said, it's still an excuse to say I can't afford one. As it turns out, the gold coins I made in Emriset are actually worth a decent amount of money. Either they have a lot more money there, or they were overpaying me back then because I was an otherworlder. Or I'm getting underpaid now, but Limera seems like an alright guy, so I doubt it.
I guess it makes sense. Working at the tavern, I'm basically living like a peasant, so that's the kind of money I'd make.
Anyway, the second, and the real reason I'm not getting an adventurer crest: It's dangerous.
It would basically be marking me as an inhabitant of this world.
Yeah, I am already, but it would bring me one step closer to the people living here. A human living here.
My clothes can only protect me so much, and you can only wear the same clothes for so long. I barely made it through a day or two (the length of six!) before I got so sweaty and gross from all the work that I felt sticky and awful and smelled absolutely foul.
That led to a whole trek to a bathhouse and general store for stuff to wash my clothes.
Have to say, not a fan of washing my clothes my hand.
That, and despite the dirty looks in the bathhouse, holy shit, catgirls are as hot as anime made them out to be. And busty. I feel a bit lacking in comparison...
Needless to say, that ended with a trip to a clothing shop so I'd have more than a single set of clothing to my name. Excluding my graduation gown that I have absolutely no fucking clue what I did with that first day, and totally lost it. Whatever, it wasn't that useful here and just brought back bad memories.
So, new clothes are pretty necessary when you have to take your other clothes to wash them at the local well. I'm not about to flash a bunch of altra who hate me just to wash my clothes. Probably get arrested for it anyway.
So, now I've been living here for a month, which as it turns out, is both longer and shorter than on Earth. With days the length of three, but only twenty days per month, it maths out to one month here equaling two on Earth. In that time, I've mostly learned to speak some basic, broken Panir, and I've saved up more than enough money to buy an adventurer's crest, without touching any of my original gold coins.
Reading will have to come too at some point, because suddenly being illiterate after eighteeen years on Earth fucking sucks.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
But overall, it feels like things are going well. I'm a filthy mess all the time, and there are some really unpleasant things I've been trying to ignore... But at least I'm alive. Well, there's also the ever-present racism... Whatever. I'm starting to settle in here.
With just a little more time, I might start getting comfortable enough to start branching out. Maybe deal with some of the... less sanitary things in my current life, that the altraskan town doesn't provide for.
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One day, I'm bussing tables at the tavern as usual when someone new comes in. It's a blue fox-altra who looks like a pretty high class adventurer- shit.
I wince when the human slave enters behind him. Because this world has fucking slavery. I mean, ok, I shouldn't be that surprised, knowing that some races hate each other. Just look at a history book and there are plenty of examples of groups hating, killing, and enslaving each other.
But still, fuck.
I don't look directly at the human man, marked as a slave by the collar around his neck. Apparently, you can also tell by the slave crest on their chests, but the collars are common because, you know, nudity.
“Hello sir, what would you like?” I ask in English, in futile hopes he doesn't direct any of his racism at me.
To my surprise, he doesn't hurl a single insult at me, and just places his order like normal. That's a first. He even orders food for his slave, which is unexpected. From what I've heard, lots of places won't even seat slaves inside. Thank god we don't do that here.
Still, huh... I guess not all slave owners are complete piece of shit raging fucking racists after all?
After they finish their meal, the fox man heads up to the bar counter and exchanges some words with the barkeep. I'm still somewhat suspicious, so I float over that way while waiting for more customers.
I can't understand most of what they say, which isn't new, but then I catch the words for 'human,' 'master,' 'slave,' and 'otherworlder' in their conversation. My heart starts to sink.
Oh no. No no no...
Limmera breaks away briefly to speak to another employee, before returning his attention to the slave owner to continue their conversation.
The employee makes a beeline for me across the bar. As soon as he comes near, his words freeze the blood in my veins.
“Run to guild, get crest, leave town. Go, now.”
I nod stiffly, then turn on my heel-
I'm faced with the human slave, directly between me and the door. Shit! This is bad! Really fucking bad!
I'd heard that there are some altraska who go around enslaving humans on a whim, but that shouldn't go for fucking otherworlders!
I stagger back a step and the slave stalks forward. There's no way they'd just snatch me from my damn job, is there?!
That's sure as shit what it looks like.
I grab out, catching the shoulder of a nearby friendly customer. She's some sort of panther-altra who comes in once or twice a day, she's even helped settle down a few of the worst patrons if they got too aggressive before.
“Help. Please,” I choke out. Her eyes narrow on the slave encroaching way too far into my personal space. Then she rises, a big clawed hand closing on his shoulder.
“Forget your place, flicker?” She starts off with a slur for humans, but I can't tell much more of what she snarls out after that.
“Thanks,” I squeak and use the opportunity to duck past.
Throwing a frantic bow back at the room full of customers, I rush out the door.
Blood pounding in my ears, I tear down the street, straight into the adventurer guild while ignoring the angry words from anyone I bump into or cut past.
Barely dropping from a run, I go straight to the counter, silently thanking god that Malic is working right now.
“Adventurer crest please,” I pant out, slapping down two gold coins. Most of my money is back in my room, so I barely have enough to afford the crest.
Malic takes one look at me and says, “This way.” He must know. He leads me off into another section of the building, walking at a quick clip.
“Why didn't you tell me there were slavers who would try to take me?” I ask, somewhere between breathless panting shock and angered outrage.
“I'm sorry,” he apologizes. “It isn't completely unheard of, but it is incredibly rare, since kidnapping an otherworlder is extremely illegal. Even if they brought you here for a slave crest, we would refuse and arrest them. Unfortunately, altraskan adventurers carry the necessary materials to set a slave crest on any humans they capture, so the slaver would most likely apply the crest themselves. If it's a noble with enough clout, they may think themselves above such laws.”
I'm at a loss for words as we turn through a number of back rooms. “Don't worry, you are safe as long as you are here. No one would dare attempt to kidnap an otherworlder from the adventurer's guild.”
“O-ok,” I stammer, slowly starting to feel a little less panicked. It's hard to even wrap my head around the fact that I nearly just got kidnapped and fucking enslaved.
Soon, we arrive in a room with a few tables, cabinets, and a chair in the middle. It reminds me of a dentist's office, but... why are their wrist and ankle cuffs built into the chair? After what almost just happened, just seeing that makes me twitchy. Malic isn't tricking me, is he?
No, of course not. He's always been super nice and he's spent days teaching me about this world.
“Just take a seat, and please remove your shirt.”
“My... shirt?”
“Yes.” I think my brain is shorting out on adrenaline. Did the seven foot tall arctic wolf man just ask me to sit in the torture chair and take off my shirt?
I'm not sure if I'm even breathing. Then his huge hand lands on my shoulder and my entire body jolts violently. “Here, use this to cover yourself.” He places a towel in my hands, then turns around.
“O-oh, ok,” I answer stupidly. I shuffle over toward the chair while pulling off my worn out tank top, a few hand-sewn stitches keeping it together after a month of wear and tear and washing by hand. Then I wrap the towel around my chest and sit down as instructed, though I'm still extremely wary of the straps on the chair. “Alright,” I say, and he turns around to face me.
“Good, I'll apply the crest now,” he says easily, and pulls a glowing blue crystal from one of the cabinets. I just sit and watch, shock and trepidation and flight instincts battling with my trust for Malic and natural inclination to go along with things. I end up accomplishing little apart from twitching and shaking unsteadily in my seat as he comes over with the crystal. “This is going to sting, would you like something to bite down on?”
Sting? Like a needle? Or something worse, like a burn? I... I have no idea what to expect. But the thought of possibly being gagged, in this situation... I shake my head.
“Alright, please brace yourself. Just try to relax, it should be over quickly.” I gulp, then nod. Relax? Now?
Malic presses the glowing crystal to my chest a little above my heart and says a few words in Panir. There are no huge magic circles like what Ethinmond did with magic. Just a little one that forms near my skin for a moment, before the crystal shatters with a sound like breaking glass, disintegrating into tiny sparkles of blue powder.
Rather than float away, the sparkling dust is drawn through the little magic circle, where it grows into bright lines of glowing light and then begin to sink into my skin.
“Guh!” I start to gasp before clenching my teeth together tightly. As the light sinks into my skin, the magical lines forming, they send hot lances of searing pain out in every direction. Is it supposed to hurt so much?! I grip the arm rests of the chair, knuckles going white, and my feet start to thrash before Malic ducks down to grab them and hold them in place.
My head rolls back, mind starting to shut down before Malic calls, “Calm down, don't fight it. It'll be over soon.”
Don't fight it?! Fight what?! I don't understand!
“Shh, shh, it's fine,” his voice comes again. “Just let the magic do its work, it'll be fine.”
Let it do its work? Is that what this feeling is? This burning heat spreading through me is magic? That celestial magic they taught me about?
I... might understand. Trying to unclench my jaw, I imagine the heat like it's just the water from an overly hot bath, washing over my body. As soon as I do, it rushes out from my chest, choking the breath in my throat for a moment as it fills me completely.
As soon as that is done, it begins to cool. The pain changes, no longer hurting. No, it's... something more now. Is this magic?
I flop over, sinking in the seat and all my muscles going limp as cold sweat drenches every inch of my skin. The next thing I know, Malic is patting me down with a towel. “Yumi, are you alright?” he's asking.
I groggily answer, “Feel like shit.”
Eventually, my energy returns enough to open my eyes again. “There you are,” Malic says, relief in his voice and face.
“Fuck man, that hurt,” I complain.
“I'm sorry,” he apologizes, “I've never applied a crest to an otherworlder before. I heard that they could be more resistant to the magic the first time, but I didn't expect it to be quite so dramatic. I doubt the situation helped, you're still very agitated after what happened earlier. Here,” and he offers me a hand up. When I wobble a little, he steadies me.
“So, what now?” I ask, focus starting to come back.
“Now, you need to go through any initial setup for interacting with your celestial's magic. Sorry, but I'm not terribly familiar with Pannatir's magic,” he references the celestial that apparently aligns with humans, even otherworlder humans. “The most I know is from, well, human slaves...” he mutters, glancing away.
Oh...
“A-anyway,” he quickly recovers. “From what I do know, one of the biggest aspects is that Pannatir allows humans to choose how its magic empowers them as they grow stronger, a lot of celestials don't do that. But before that, it requires humans to choose a number of things for how their magic will function and grow over time. I do not know how much of it can be changed later. Some celestials allow a lot of flexibility, but I can't say for sure whether Pannatir is one of them.
“Ok,” I reply slowly, trying to get my brain back up to speed so I can follow. This sounds really important, so I don't want to screw it up because I can't think straight. “Just, how about somewhere else?” I ask, glancing back at the creepy chair.
“Sure, but you should change first.” Damn it, I'm still wearing a towel.