Questions. Ted had many, but so did the wood elves. As is so often the case, the people with weapons got to ask the questions.

“There are really no levels where you come from?” Jeremy asked for the fifth time. He looked down at Ted, his expression a combination of incredulous and gruff.

The elf was significantly taller than Cara but shorter than Ted—at least, he would have been, if Ted hadn’t been tied to a chair.

Ted shook his head. “No! No levels, no magic, no Great Trees.” His wrists chaffed against the ropes with every futile attempt at emphatic gestures. How many times would he have to tell them before they’d believe it?

Jeremy turned to the other elf and asked her something in Wood Elvish. Even after thirty minutes of questioning, Ted still didn’t know her name. She’d watched silently, saying nothing besides the occasional barked command, always in Wood Elvish.

The intensity with which she studied him raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Tension already hung thick in the air, and it was getting worse. Ted wasn’t sure what Jeremy had asked, but it felt like his life hung in her hands.

Smooth bark covered the walls of the circular room. At least if he was going to die, it would be in an intriguing place. Alien, yet utterly natural at the same time. Just as Cara had said, this wasn’t built into the tree, but part of it.

Cara. She was seated behind him, out of sight but still in the room. Both times she’d spoken, the unnamed woman had silenced her. She wouldn’t be able to save him this time.

Both of his interrogators wore leather armor like Cara’s, and, just like her, their feet were bare. Was it some kind of uniform? Soldiers, or border guards? There probably wasn’t a distinction.

Jeremy seemed reasonable enough, although understandably incredulous at Ted’s claims. The woman? Less so. Her jaw clenched every time she looked at him. More accurately, when she stared, her lips pressed tight together, lacking even the slightest hint of sympathy.

And now everything hung on her. Assuming she was in charge, what would her orders be?

The rock in his stomach grew heavier. That dead look in her eyes did not bode well.

She scoffed, theatrically brushed herself off, and strode out of the room.

Ted swallowed. What did that mean? Had she washed her hands of him? Was he too dirty to be around? Or—

No. He had to hope it wasn’t that. They wouldn’t.

Would they?

Shit. Reasonable or not, Jeremy had the aloof air of a soldier who’d do what had to be done. Blood pounded in Ted’s temples and his mind scrambled for a way out that couldn’t be found.

Maybe he would respawn. Maybe this wasn’t the end.

Jeremy sighed and plastered on a smile. “I guess you’re our responsibility now.”

“Your responsibility?” Ted’s frantic breaths stilled. Was this a reprieve?

“Yes. You do something wrong, Cara and I will pay the price, alongside you.” Jeremy leaned forward and untied Ted. “I hope Cara’s faith in you is not misplaced.”

“What about your faith in me?”

The elf chuckled, his smile a little less forced. “I have faith in Cara.”

Ted lifted his hands and rubbed his wrists. “Thank you.” Finally free, he stood up, turned toward Cara, and smiled, only to earn a scowl in return. What was that about? “Both of you.”

Jeremy glanced between the two of them, his stony expression giving away nothing. “I’ll leave you to it. We should talk more later. I have other duties to attend to.” He swept out of the room, leaving Ted alone with the still-scowling Cara.

“So,” she said, leaning back into her chair and crossing her arms. “There are some rules.”

“Rules?” Where was this going?

“I’m responsible for your care. Where I go, you go.” She let out an animalistic growl. “You’re not allowed weapons while in the village, and you’re to do as you’re told. Understood so far?”

Ted nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”

“Good. Finally, if you want to stay here, you need to make yourself useful. What are your profession skills?”

He stared back at her, unsure how to break it to her. There wasn’t really a good way to spin it. At least for now, he was damned near useless here.

Her eyes widened. She blinked twice and slumped into a sigh. “Let me guess, you don’t have any? Of course not. You mentioned being a scholar, didn’t you?”

“Of sorts.” He doubted that Computer Science would help much in a forest.

“If you wanted to do that sort of thing, you’d need a big city, anyway. No need for a human scholar here.”

He had no intention of being a scholar, but his feathers ruffled at the idea he couldn’t just because he was a human. “So what if I’m human?”

“How long will you live? Seventy, eighty years? Maybe a hundred, with a good healer?”

Understanding crept in, unwelcome as it was. “Hopefully.”

“What’s ancient history for humans is lived experience for elves. It’s hard for humans to compete with hundreds of years of study and contemplation.”

“Alright, so scholar’s out then.” Not that it would have done him any good without a computer. “What else is there? What are you?”

“Me?” She raised her eyebrows and paused. “I’m a Bowyer and a Leatherworker. I like to make my own equipment, no matter what anyone else thinks about that.”

“Why would anyone think badly of that?”

“It’s—” She turned away and growled. “We have grandmaster Bowyers and Leatherworkers in the Forest. We don’t need more. They’d love it if you picked something useful, like Herbalist or Forester, but it’s up to you.”

Ted nodded along. That was enough prodding for now. “If I’m going to stay, I need to make myself useful somehow, right?”

“Everyone in the Great Forest gives how they’re able. It’s how we survive. Right now, if you’re willing to hunt alongside me, that’d be more than enough.”

“Why do you say, ‘right now?’ Because of the dungeon spawn?”

She closed her eyes, and her expression hardened. It didn’t soften again when they opened. “It’s more dangerous out there than ever. We’ve lost a few hunters already.”

Ted turned away. Once again, he’d stuck his foot in it. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t know.”

She shook her head and stood. “It’s okay. No one particularly close to me, thank the Forest, but closer than I’d like.” Cara took a deep breath and headed for the door. “Come. I’ve got something to show you.”

She led him through a series of walkways between platforms, all formed out of the trees and seamlessly merged together. Or was it tree, singular?

Some of the walkways were covered, with window-like gaps for the sun, while others were open to the elements. The few wood elves they encountered openly stared at their passing.

Ted smiled at them as best he could. Being an outsider was nothing new. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere that reminds me how good I have it, no matter how bad it feels at the time.”

She didn’t elaborate beyond that, and he was done pushing for now. He’d find out soon enough.

Before long, they came to a platform with no other walkways coming off it. An intricate wooden totem stood at the center, painted gray and inscribed with writing. The script was unrecognizable—Wood Elvish, perhaps?

Cara kneeled before the totem and gestured for Ted to do the same. “This is a shrine to the victims of the Age of Heroes.”

“Heroes?” His stomach quivered.

She bowed her head and became unnaturally still. “No matter how bad it gets, be grateful you don’t live in a world with Heroes anymore.”

His jaw clamped shut and an icy chill spread through him. He checked and rechecked his status, but it steadfastly remained the same.

Status: Hero

Cara turned on him, her face alit with fury. “Do you know what the word ‘grinding’ means?”

Ted shook his head. Suspicions were forming in his mind, but if he was right, sharing them would only make things worse.

“They’d slaughter entire villages, just for the meager XP they’d provide. Then, once a week, some evil, cruel god would spawn more people so they could do it all over again. Every week, new, innocent folk, created out of thin air, ripe for the slaughter.”

Ted’s heart hammered in his chest and his throat tightened shut. He could imagine it all too well, but this world was clearly way more advanced than any Earth game. Cara, Jeremy, hell, even the wolf felt real. Felt sentient. But if they were, then—

A dark chill swept over him, leaving him sick to the core. No sapient being deserved that, and Cara at least seemed to qualify. And if she did, presumably the others did too.

Cara carried on, her voice swelling with rage. “The worst part must have been how helpless they felt. Even if they banded together and somehow killed a few Heroes, they’d simply come back, worse than ever.” She slammed her fists against the smooth bark floor. “Murderers, all of them. Thank the Forest they’re gone.”

Was he supposed to comfort her? Ted stopped his hand halfway. No. If she knew… Whatever her reaction would be, she damned well wouldn’t want him comforting her, least of all now.

Her breathing slowed, and her fists gradually unclenched. “Sorry. It makes me so damned angry, but…” She pursed her lips and turned away. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Whatever problems I have, they had it so much worse.” When she looked up, determination burned in her eyes. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

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They walked in silence, her swift pace forcing him to jog to keep up. Should he tell her? If he waited, he could build trust first. Trust that might be shattered by the truth. Assuming she ever found out—getting out of the forest might not be a bad medium-term plan. However long ago it had been, shorter-lived races were less likely to hold a grudge, right?

Positives: He might be immortal here. Negatives: Everyone would hate him if they knew the truth. Typical. Thank heavens he hadn’t mentioned it yet.

Not that he’d been hiding it, it simply hadn’t seemed like the right time. “Hey guys, I know you’re interrogating me because you think I’m a shapeshifting wizard looking to murder you all, but did you know my character sheet says I’m a Hero?”

Somehow, he hadn’t thought that would go down well. He scrubbed what it meant to be a Hero from the table of questions he planned to ask and started a new mental list. “Questions to never ask, ever, no matter how important.” They already had enough reasons to distrust him. There was no need to go giving them more.

Cara led him into the biggest room yet, at least forty feet wide, formed in the middle of a gigantic tree. The room was full of wood elves, all plainly dressed with bare feet. Most worked away at some form of craft, or were watching those who did. There was a wide array of crafts on display—whittling wood, bow making, leatherworking, and more.

The hustle and bustle came with a sweet, soothing melody of Wood Elvish voices, all talking and laughing. Less soothing was the sharp, pungent smell that dominated the air. Ted’s nose wrinkled. The creature he’d carried back for Cara was mid-way through being skinned by an older male elf, while two younger elves watched and pretended to listen.

He caught the older elf’s gaze, who stopped mid-cut and stared, his sentence shuddering to a halt. Like a cascade of dominoes, the entire room fell silent, all eyes turning on Ted.

Just like being back home. Ted pasted on a smile. He wouldn’t give them any more reasons to dislike him, not if he could help it.

Silence hung in the air. He looked to Cara. They knew her, and she knew him—it was up to her now.

Her eyes widened and she turned away, fiddling with her hands as she tried to hide right in front of everyone.

Ted’s new inner sense informed him she was literally attempting to disappear. He raised an eyebrow and whispered, “You’re trying to Stealth?”

She froze up. A long, tense silence passed before she replied, quiet as a mouse. “… Maybe.”

Even still learning how the world worked, that seemed implausible. “Does Stealth work in the open?”

More silence.

Awkward, but good to know people were people, no matter where they were. As usual, it was up to him. He stepped forward and waved. “Hi, I’m Ted.”

The elves stared back. They said nothing, but their expressions softened, at least.

The older elf who’d gaze he’d caught laid down his skinning knife and stepped forward. He presented his hands, wide and open, palms outstretched. “Welcome, Ted. I am Reltan.”

Awkwardness filled the void between them, but Ted would take that any day over Jeremy or the unnamed elf deciding whether to kill him. “So… you’re a skinner, then?”

Reltan nodded. “No grandmaster, but skilled enough to teach the children.” He gestured to the two young yet adult-looking elves beside him.

“Children?” The word slipped out of Ted’s lips without thinking.

The elf shook his head, a motion so small it was almost imperceptible. “All of the learners here today have yet to see a hundred springs. Some—” paused to glance at his two inattentive students “—have not yet found the right craft for them.”

Reltan focused his gaze back on Ted with a piercing intensity, and a tingle rippled down Ted’s back. Not unpleasant, but unfamiliar enough to be unsettling. Was this what it was like to be Identified? He hadn’t felt that before, when Cara had identified him. There had to be a way to hide it. That would certainly be useful.

A stifled gasp escaped from Reltan, and his eyes widened. “You have no profession skills at all?”

Ted shook his head. “No, and no useful experience, either.”

The elf regained his composure and bowed his head. “Apologies.” A warm smile spread across his lips and he gave Cara a nod. “You have brought him to the right place, thank you. I can take custody of him for now, if you wish.” He held his arms out, looking from side to side at the crowd of elves still silently watching. “I think that between all of us we can handle him for a few hours.”

Her eyes lit up so fast it was hard not to be offended. She darted forward, pocketed a small chunk of wood from the carving desk, and dashed for the door.

Reltan shook his head slightly and gestured for Ted to follow him. “Come. We can try you on skinning first.”

Sweet, melodic Wood Elvish filled the hall once more and the elves returned to their own tasks.

Ted gave Reltan a smile and followed. This was a chance to create a good first impression. Best not to spoil it by worrying about Cara.

***

The carving knife thudded against the table harder than Ted had intended, drawing concerned glances from several of the elves at the next table over.

Ted sighed. He couldn’t even put a knife down right. “It’s pointless. I’m officially useless at everything.” Here, anyway. Give me a computer or some equations any day.

Reltan pulled up a chair next to him. “Patience, young one. Everyone has their calling. From the look of your stats, I would posit that yours are more cerebral than artisan. I have no doubt that in a human city you would make a fine scholar.”

“Fat lot of good that does me.” Ted sighed and buried his head in his hands. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“Understandable. There are many crafts beyond those within this tree.”

Ted bit back another sarcastic outburst. While the other elves had treated him with a mixture of distant curiosity, apathy, and suspicion, Reltan had been nothing but patient, taking him from craftsman to craftsman and introducing him to each in turn. “What would you suggest?”

The elf leaned back and examined Ted, sending that now all too familiar ripple through him. “Craft choices are very personal. Most can only ever level two at a time, and, while the choice isn’t permanent, every level in a third skill costs one of the old.”

“As you said. And each level gets harder to increase.”

Reltan nodded with a glowing smile. “Very good, yes. I never recommend particular craft skills to any of my learners. If you’re going to spend your life studying a craft, I feel it should be one that calls to you.”

“I’m not an elf, though, am I? No point in me learning a skill like bow crafting when I’ll be dead before I’m half as good as your intermediates, let alone your masters.”

“That is one way to look at it.”

“So, what do you have a gap in? What don’t enough wood elves study?”

Reltan’s frown made his disapproval clear, but Ted couldn’t just drop it. If—when—he got home, his skills here wouldn’t matter, and as long as he was stuck in this world, he was damned well going to make himself useful.

The elf sighed. “I would recommend that you find crafts that you personally are happy with. However, I will not deny you the information you seek. First, there are skills that serve little purpose here. Farming, for instance—we have no farmland. Second, there are gathering skills, many of which are always in demand, especially those that require leaving the village. Having more herbs, for instance, is never a bad thing.”

Reltan paused, leaving a silence that dragged into awkwardness.

Tension coiled in Ted’s chest. What didn’t Reltan want to say?

Ted’s heart sank. It made sense they wouldn’t trust him. He was, after all, asking in a roundabout way what their weaknesses were.

Time crept by, each second longer than the last. When Reltan finally resumed, he spoke slowly, quieter than before. “Third, there are the profession skills that are simply too dangerous for many wood elves to take them. Mining, Spellcrafting, and Archeology are the first that come to mind.”

That didn’t sound like mistrust. It almost sounded like Reltan, a stranger and an elf, didn’t want him to risk his life for them. Had he misjudged the man? Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad here, at least as long as they didn’t know he was a Hero.

If he stayed, a useful profession would help. Spellcrafting in particular would complement learning magic, although its inclusion in the “too dangerous for elves” set was more than a little concerning. “What’s so dangerous about those?”

“Mining and Archeology, in and of themselves, are not dangerous professions. The danger comes from where one would have to travel for them. The only usable mines around here are in the Deep-Forest, the underground dungeons beneath us. I believe you have already met one of their lesser denizens.”

Lesser? Ted swallowed and nodded for Reltan to continue. It was almost sad how much his eyes lit up to have an attentive audience.

“Spellcrafting, on the other hand, is inherently dangerous. One mistake, and the spell created might easily backfire. The more magic used, and the bigger the mistake, the greater the resulting… incident. Most elves would prefer not to risk their lives in that way. Instead, we pass down what little magical knowledge we have left, and that is sufficient.”

“I can’t say I blame them. How long do elves live, anyway?”

“It varies. With adept healers and a life well-lived, a wood elf would be lucky to reach a thousand springs.”

A thousand years was more than lucky. Ted bit back a snide comment. Better to move on before he started an argument. “You mentioned Archeology—what use would that be?”

It was only fleeting, but the elf’s expression left no doubt he’d asked a stupid question. Given the number of questions Ted had asked, many of them incredibly basic, it was a testament to Reltan’s patience that it had taken so long for the first crack to appear.

The expression of disbelief was swiftly replaced by a bitter smile. “Much knowledge has been lost over the millennia, or guarded with such jealousy that it may as well have been. Much of it was never held by the wood elves to begin with, or was stolen from us—more’s the pity, for we would have preserved it better. Nowhere is this truer than in the art of Spellcrafting. Both the Heroes of old and the Divine Empire discovered many things about the craft that were never shared beyond a select few. Some might be discoverable, but I fear much was lost.”

Ted leaned forward. What knowledge might he be able to find? Powerful magic? Maybe even a way out of this place? “How did they make so much progress if it’s so dangerous?”

“Death was no impediment to Heroes. There are tales that some would even embrace death upon a severe injury such as losing a limb, returning whole once more. The Divine Empire…” He trailed off, his fists balling up in the first sign that the elf had anything but kind patience in his heart. “The Divine Empire had no qualms about forcing slaves to develop their spells.”

Slaves were out, but he was a Hero…

It sounded too good to be true. He wanted a lot more confirmation than a ten-thousand year old rumor before banking on being immortal, but maybe being a Hero had upsides after all.

Given his stats, becoming a mage was a solid plan. Spellcrafting would pair well with that, at least if he had the edge of coming back from the dead. And if there was lost magic out there to find, Archeology could pair very well with Spellcrafting.

“Thank you, Reltan. You’ve been more helpful than I could have imagined.” He’d certainly never imagined he’d have learned to skin a torric today. “I’m not ready to choose just yet, but, while I have you, I’d love to hear more of the history of this world.”

The elf sat up straight, his chest thrust out and a gleam in his eye. He kept it as brief as he could, in his own rambling way—which is to say, not brief at all—yet Ted listened carefully all the same. The more knowledge he could arm himself with, the better.

The gist was that the Age of Heroes had been a time of great upheaval, with many wars, principally centered around the throne of the Divine Empire. It was a time of great deeds and events, with many unbelievable occurrences and upheavals.

Ted nodded along, his hypothesis about “Heroes” becoming more and more solid. If the Divine Empire was tied to them, then he might find more information there. And if he could figure out what happened, and where the Heroes went, that might lead to a way home.

Save your father, save the world. Had his father thought the same thing? Ted’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip. Wild speculation about a man he hadn’t seen in over a decade wouldn’t help. Paying attention to Reltan’s rambling history lesson might.

The Heroes had declined in numbers, disappearing to a fate unknown, until, one day, all the remaining Heroes had simply vanished. Since then, there had been scattered rumors of other Heroes, singular or in small groups, but never in the numbers there once were.

The Divine Empire had endured, its last emperor ruling with an iron grip. Since his death, no more Emperors had been crowned and, besides minor border skirmishes, the last ten thousand years had been relatively peaceful.

Power abhors a vacuum. Ten thousand years and no new empires? No major wars? No major anything? It made no sense. “Who’s in charge now?”

“The Divine Emperor rules all.”

Ted paused. Had he missed something? “Didn’t you say that the throne of the Divine Emperor has been vacant since the last emperor, ten thousand years ago?”

Reltan winced for the briefest of moments. “That’s what I said.”

“Isn’t that a contradiction?”

The elf’s face twisted into an expression of agony that fled so fast it was hard to be sure it had really happened. Reltan seemed perfectly fine, with no trace of the flash of pain. “I don’t understand.”

Ted leaned back and bit his lip. The man appeared completely genuine, yet what he was saying wasn’t possible. “How long has the Divine Emperor been on the throne?”

Reltan shrugged. “As long as anyone can remember.”

“Was the Divine Emperor on the throne a hundred years ago?”

“He was,” Reltan said, with absolute confidence.

Ted took a deep breath. It made no sense. The current emperor had to be the same as the most recent emperor. Unless the handles pointed to different objects. Could it be? This was either going to be the dumbest question he’d ever asked, or one of the smartest. “A hundred years ago, was there a Divine Emperor?”

Pain flickered across Reltan’s face, gone almost as fast as it arrived. Completely normal again as if nothing had happened, he answered with that same confidence. “No. None have been crowned since the disappearance of the Heroes.”

A dark foreboding hooked into Ted’s gut. He prayed his hunch was wrong, but the quest had been clear on one point. “Save your father, save the world.” Whatever his father had gotten himself mixed up in, it was big.

Fourteen years of not knowing. Two-thirds of his life wondering what had happened and trying not to give a shit. I’m sorry Reltan, but I have to know. “Fourteen years ago today, was there a Divine Emperor?”

Reltan shook his head, a quizzical expression on his face. “No?”

Heat rose in Ted’s gut. It wasn’t fair, life never had been. Knowing there was a connection wouldn’t help, only leave even more questions than answers. He swallowed. He had to know. “Thirteen years ago, was there a Divine Emperor?”

Another flicker of pain crossed the poor elf’s face and Ted’s chest tightened. At least Reltan didn’t seem to remember it.

“Yes, there was. The Divine Emperor has been on the throne as long as anyone can remember.”