Val found me a cheap place to stay in the same district as the Engineer’s Guild. I figured it would help to be close to my target.

We were staying at an inn, and the entire building, including rooms, was made entirely of wood. The only objects I noticed that weren’t made from wood were the glassware at the bar downstairs and my bedding. The room was cheap, and I was only staying there one night. After I completed my quest and sold that timekeeper, I’d be upgrading to a nicer room. One night in meager lodgings wasn’t a problem, especially after sleeping on the ground for days.

The sun had only just fallen, and I wasn’t quite ready to sleep after finally reaching my long-awaited destination. I wanted to get a sense of civilization. I wanted to exist. So, I went to the bar.

To be clear, the inn I was staying at had a bar downstairs, open to any who had coins to spare. The second and third floors were the guest rooms, so I didn’t have to travel far to get my drink.

I ordered their strongest ale and found a seat at a small table in the corner. I sipped the beer and cringed. It was disgusting. I returned to my implanted memories and recalled enjoying the occasional mug of ale, but now that I had my real memories back, ale, particularly this ale, was among the worst alcoholic beverages I’d ever tasted.

Also, there were little chunks of goop in it. I pushed it away with a sigh.

Instead of drinking, I decided to watch and listen. The bar was growing busier as night fell, and for the most part, the patrons were jovial, full of laughter and bright eyes. Part of me wished they all saw the world as it truly was like I did, but they all looked so happy. If they knew what I knew, happiness would be hard to reach, even on the best of days.

In this moment, in this bar, these people knew where they stood in the world. They had lives, families, and friends. Despite the war on their doorstep and a significantly lower standard of living than in the real world, they were content with their lives.

At least, it seemed that way. I felt like the truth would rob them of their blissful ignorance, just as it had been stolen from me. There were moments when I wished to once again live in ignorance. The truth was a heavy burden to bear sometimes.

I watched people order drinks and talk. One older man tried to get a song going, but he was shouted down. Poor man didn’t have the voice for singing anyway.

“….must have been ten Dalari, swear my soul on it.”

The words came from a man sitting at a table to my left, along with two other men. The conversation was intended to be whispered, but the man was either really bad at it, or the swill they served here had done a number on him.

“Dalari don’t come out this way,” one of his table companions said. “They’re off toward the Western Sea.”

“I know where they hold foot,” the man hissed. “But I’m telling you, I saw a group of the Blues sneaking into a cave high up the mountains.”

“Maybe a scouting party?” a second man asked.

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“Ain’t nothin’ worth scouting up in those cursed mountains. I’ve hunted that damn section for two years and never saw another man there. To see multiple Dalari was a whole bucketful of strange. And get this: none of them were in uniform. They looked more like some fancy bandits to me, each with a different weapon. Two of them had none, and I swear one of them was carrying nothing but a long stick. Weirdest thing I ever saw.”

He may not know what he saw, but I did. It must have been some of the Dalari who chose the adventurer's path rather than participate in the war. If I was in their shoes, I’d have done the same.

‘Did you hear that conversation about the Dalari?’ I thought to Val.

Her avatar popped into the seat across from me. “I can hear every conversation in this room.”

‘What do you think of it? Adventurers or something worse?’

“They are adventurers. I can tell that from his description of their gear. Furthermore, the Dalari are still fighting a war that is two hundred miles to the west. It is unlikely they would send a contingent this far before they have successfully taken control of Western Vedra.”

‘What happens if they beat the Kurskins? Where will the Dalari go next?’

“They could head south to your capitol and the Kurkin stronghold, or they could head east and levy the men of Denver into their army. That is if the Kurskins don’t do it first.”

‘There are Kurskins here now. Why haven’t they taken over already?’

“The Kurskin military presence here is minimal. The one who accosted you over your leather armor in that small village was a low-ranking bureaucrat. Technically, he isn’t even with the army, although he is working alongside them. A small number of Kurskins are in every major city yet untouched by the Dalari. It’s their way of ‘claiming’ it for themselves. They attempt to ingratiate themselves with the human populace and leadership in preparation for a possible draft. It doesn’t always work.”

‘Is it working here?’

“How should I know?”

‘Val, I don’t think I’ll ever know what you do or do not know, so just learn to deal with the questions.’

“I think it’s time for your nap,” Val said like I was a child.

'Shut up, V…'

My thought was interrupted by the smashing of a bottle. I turned to see a commotion near the entrance, where a man was stomping toward the bar.

He was burly with a thick beard. He wore brown breeches and a tight cotton shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his considerably large biceps.

As he passed another table, he picked up a random bottle and slammed it to the ground. Then, when he passed the next table, he did it again.

He pointed at the barkeep. “Where’s your boss?”

The barkeep held his hands and stammered, “I, I, uh…, I haven’t seen him today.”

The burly man barked a laugh. “The coward must have run for the hills then.” He smiled widely, and I knew trouble was coming.

“If he ain’t gonna’ pay me back, I’ll have to teach him a lesson.” He ground his beefy fists together and glared at the barkeep. “You’ll be the subject for my first lesson.”

He stalked forward, a snarl on his dirty face.

“Are you just going to let this happen, Player?” Val said, head tilted at me.

‘What am I supposed to do?’

“You are supposed to gain experience. Stopping this man from beating someone up will constitute an experience gain.”

I groaned, not wanting to involve myself but knowing it was the right thing to do, not just because I needed to gain experience.

The room was quiet as the man walked toward the bar. I stood, pushing my chair back, causing it to scrape loudly along the wood floor. I cleared my throat.

The big man froze in place and slowly turned his hairy face to me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did you say something?”

“No, I was just clearing my throat, but now that I have your attention, I have something to say.” I paused, waiting to see how he would react.

He turned his wide body to face me and crossed his arms, defiantly casual.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I just think it’s rude of you to enter a fine establishment like this in your current state.” I sniffed the air. “You should consider showering first. It’s proper manners.”

The most hateful smile I had ever seen stretched across his face. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“No one is killing anyone.” The words were low and raspy and decidedly nonhuman.

It was a Kurskin.