Fletcher held the arrow perfectly still as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a slim silver whistle. His eyes didn’t leave Brian’s as he blew it in a series of interspaced tweets.
All of the tiredness and calm from the captain’s face from earlier had been replaced by a colder resolve.
“Officer, I can–” Brian tried to explain the new boxes but the captain cut him off.
“Brian Turner, ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ you said earlier you had one skill. Were you referring to a stealth or mind-influencing skill?”
“No, I just had–”
“Brian Turner!” The man was shouting now. “How many skills do you have?”
“Two! Onejustunlocked!” Brian rushed to get the words out before he could be interrupted again.
The captain’s jaw tightened as he weighed Brian’s words. He released the arrow with his hand and yet it stayed precisely in place. “I’ve added conditions to the arrow: if you try to move from this spot, attack me, or lie to me, it will loose. Mind your words and actions carefully.” He picked up the book and quickly leafed through it to get to a certain section. Brian watched his eyes scanning the pages without emotion, carefully moving no more than necessary.
Having a floating arrow threateningly pointed at you recontextualized many of his recent decisions. Maybe living in a smaller, boring town wasn’t so bad. Maybe having roommates could have built some meaningful connections. Maybe running away from everything that could have been managed by a single day’s worth of committed effort was a bad idea.
After a few moments of silence, as the captain was skimming the book, Brian tried to explain.
“I apologize for doing whatever it is that I did. According to the boxes, I just unlocked my crown node and the concept of [Ordinary]. I don’t know what any of that means, but it gave me a skill that makes me and Daisy appear less noticeable and less threatening.”
He wasn’t sure if the captain was still listening but the man gave a brief nod and he stopped to read a specific passage in the book more thoroughly.
Brian kept as still as possible while he waited, not sure if saying anything more would help or hurt his situation.
Eventually, the man looked back up from the book, annoyed. The arrow returned to somewhere near his hip that Brian couldn’t see under the table.
“You are exhausting, Brian Turner.” His words hung in the area, sick of the change of pace from his normal routine. He closed the book with a thump. “You are very likely to be an otherworlder. Your kind is rare. This guide,” he tapped the book, “is one that all guard captains are required to have, but not read, because it is very unlikely to ever be needed.”
The man sighed as he finished, lifting the dripping beer and finishing it with a long swallow.
“You are likely to have questions. Stay them. This recommends that I tell you a few things before anything else. And that’s what I was intended to do—until you unlocked and used a skill traditionally used by spies, thieves, and assassins.”
Brian felt a lump growing in his throat, Fletcher’s tone was too similar to an exhausted teacher just barely holding back from a lecture that went harder than it needed to. He was sure that the captain was more than a little frustrated.
“The first thing you need to understand is that you’re unlikely to possess any knowledge worth exploiting. If you believe you do, do not tell me or anyone else.”
He let that sink in before continuing, “The second is this: otherworlders benefit from accelerated concept development after arrival. While I spent years training to unlock my concepts, yours may activate as your emotions elevate. Be mindful of where you direct your time and efforts until this stabilizes or you unlock all of your nodes. There are no bad concepts, but there are combinations that don’t work together naturally—you will have to bear that burden if you do not put care and thought into this opportunity.”
Brian nodded along, trying to practice good active listening as he wrapped his head around things.
“The third point.” Fletcher’s tone and eyes softened a tiny amount. “You may want to return home. It’s a very common response. Technically, it is possible. But it would require power on par with a god’s. Functionally impossible. Otherworlders who focus on building a good life here have faced much kinder fates.”
“You have gone through significant changes, Brian Turner, and you will be faced with many more. I recommend that you act cautiously.” His tone was measured as he gestured through a window at a nearby building with a signboard painted with a woman’s head with three rats nesting in her hair. “That’s the Rat’s Nest, our local tavern and inn. Mona is the proprietress and will likely assist you for a time if you explain your situation. She often takes in strays. Do not abuse her kindness. It is not my role nor place to steward you, and this guide also recommends that you carve your own path to grow in a way that is as free from the influence of others as possible.”
The captain rose from the small table and moved towards the door. Before stepping outside, he looked back at Brian, his gaze steady but not unkind. “Work hard to avoid further disruptions within these walls, and be mindful of your words. I am not of the nobility, it was ignorant of you to refer to me as ‘sir.’ Avoid vague language, as it’s often taken as an attempt to evade skills that focus on truth. If you wish to be ‘ordinary,’ you will need to learn the appropriate customs. Otherwise, it will be noted if you persist in habits that suggest an unfamiliar… origin.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
He paused, looking around Daisy’s interior and its alienness to his expectations. “Your carriage will attract attention—skill or not. I would strongly suggest working towards a concept to protect it.”
Brian hesitated, then managed a quiet but firm correction, “Her, not it.”
“Good day, Brian Turner.” Fletcher exited Daisy and closed the door quietly, rejoining his men and leading them back to their posts.
…
Brian stayed seated long after the captain had left. He’d had a long day. Even with the moment for introspection and reflection available, Brian was focused on the captain’s arrow. Magic was real. He had accepted it in theory after Daisy’s dentistry reveal, but he hadn’t internalized it the same way as the trauma of staring down the shaft of an ensorcelled arrow.
Eventually, a lower-ranked guardsman politely and warily directed him to a spot next to the wall that would park Daisy out of the way. Other than the one interaction, no one had bothered him. He wasn’t sure if that was part of his skill or not.
Reaching into the boxspace, he willed the most recent message forward.
You have gained the ability: [Don’t Mind Me] - Decreases the likelihood for Daisy and her inhabitants to be noticed or seen as a threat.
The lack of quantitative information was maddening. Decreases it by how much? How is it doing so? Does it work on him if he’s outside of Daisy? Where are these names coming from?
He grabbed the dry-erase board shopping list from his fridge, erased it, and started writing down terms in one column:
Anchor
Concept
Foundation
Skill
And another set of priorities to the right:
Mona
Defense
Money
Food
Supplies
Home?
Brian was going to take the book’s advice for the moment and not obsess about getting home. It had only been a day—he could afford to take things slow and figure everything out. His bigger concern was the ticking clock he had. If the captain and book were right, he would develop five more ‘concepts’ and skills in short order if he got too emotional about things.
[Home] popped when he was sincerely thinking about Daisy being his refuge in the last world and this one.
[Ordinary] popped when he just wanted things to be normal and hide.
The triggers could be positive or negative. That was troubling. He imagined getting cornered in an alley as someone tried to take Daisy’s keys from him, feeling helpless and weak, and suddenly unlocking [Victim] or [Fear]. The captain said there were no bad concepts, but he wanted to choose as best he could.
He’d played Dungeons and Dragons a handful of times and had an occasional obsession with mobile games, but he was by no means a gamer. Seven skills total, and so far he had healing and a pseudo-stealth skill used by assassins—or, Daisy did. A sneaky healer? That wasn’t the path he wanted, and he got anxious about the idea of letting strangers into Daisy to patch them up. Other people had skills too, and judging by the number of guards this outpost had, there was a reason for that.
Captain Fletcher was right—he needed a way to protect himself and Daisy, and he needed it sooner rather than later.
But Brian didn’t even know what the threats were. He knew, in theory, how to defend against muggers, carjackers, or an opportunistic thief, but not if the criminals were magic criminals.
He needed more information. He needed to talk to Mona.
…
Before setting off to visit The Rat’s Nest, Brian grabbed a chocolate bar from one of his cabinets. He cautiously exited Daisy and double-checked she was locked up tight with the alarm on. Trying to ensure everything was safe while not getting too worried that everything was safe.
Instead of heading straight to find Mona, he approached one of the younger guards stationed at the gate nearby.
“Excuse me! I’m Brian Turner—the traveler who was talking to Day Captain Fletcher earlier. Could I trouble you for some help with something?”
The young guard blinked in response, not quite confident in dealing with new situations, he straightened up before responding.
“Uh… yes, Traveler Turner,” he replied, curiosity and nervousness in his voice. “What do you need assistance with?”
His eyes moved between Brian and Daisy. “Not everyday someone comes in with… well, that.”
“Her.” Brian again corrected. “Speaking of Daisy, would you be willing to keep an eye on her to make sure she stays safe? She’s locked up and an alarm will go off if anyone tries to get inside her.” He held out the chocolate bar to the man. “This is a sweet from my hometown—if you’re willing to assist.”
Brian felt much more comfortable speaking to people when it wasn’t an interrogation. Politeness and appreciation were his much more comfortable tools when he wasn’t being interrogated.
The guard gave a curt nod, clearly curious with eyes on the chocolate bar as he accepted it. “I’ll do my best, Traveler Turner.”
“Thank you, Guard…?” Brian trailed off, hoping the social cue remained the same.
“Tomas, Traveller.”
“Thank you, Guard Tomas.” Brian nodded and smiled as he enjoyed the much more pleasant social interaction and began walking towards The Rat’s Nest.