As luck would have it, Gurden the Sister Respecter was the bottom bunk to my top bunk.

And as luck would further have it, he snored like a chainsaw massacre. I swear I found blood on his sheets one morning.

Typical bottom.

The have-not dorm consisted of long corridors of rooms, each containing two or more bunk beds. The mattresses were basic, but comfortable enough. I didn’t see my other two roommates around too much, they mostly kept to themselves. I might have even been able to get a decent night’s sleep in this place if it weren’t for-

BWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

For the umpteenth time that night, I bolted awake, frantically checking around for demonic roosters.

Nope, just this asshole. Fuck-a-doodle-you.

Fortunately, the guy who designed this building believed that all poor people deserve a window, so I could see that it was already mid-morning. I kickflipped out of bed and went on down to the kitchen.

The cafeteria lady was already there, serving up a storm. The food at this dorm was actually pretty good. You could usually get eggs for breakfast, sometimes fruit, and there was always more porridge to round things out. Dinner was some kind of stew with meat and vegetables. I’d be satisfied with this for sure.

As long as I never find out what Burt is eating over at the Ritz-Carlton

John must be making a killing on dead bees, because Burt, Clayton, Owen, and Allison were all put up in the sUpErIoR dorm, ready to comingle with the children of nobility, forming connections that will last a-

On second thought, just don’t think about it.

As I got up to leave, I caught sight of Stella as she made her grand entrance. Heads turned, and people started whispering to each other. I smirked, unable to contain myself, and listened in on a couple of guys who were standing in line.

“...see that girl?”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful, wonder if she…”

I frowned and turned away. Girls can be adorable or cute. Pretty, if you’re feeling generous. Anything stronger than that, and you’ve bought yourself a ticket to the friend zone. I have a whole diagram about it.

I gave Stella a curt nod as I passed her by, not really interested in making conversation.

Time to make like a McNugget… and bounce.

----------------------------------------

I groaned involuntarily as I lowered myself into the steaming pool. I hadn’t had a proper bath since coming to Alterra, so when one of the kitchen staff mentioned that there was a bathhouse with hot water right by the castle, I’d powerwalked my way right on over.

I’ll never understand people who take cold showers - imagine taking the most pleasant, relaxing part of your day… and viewing it as an opportunity to torture yourself. They’re probably the same fuckheads who buy all those carolina reapers at safeway. And put them in their shampoo, just to “trigger the sympathetic nervous system”, or whatever those “trust the science” numales are spewing these days.

As I lay there in that glorious basin, my pores opened like the gates of hell, shedding a murky stream of grime containing every particle of dirt that I’d slept on until now - and probably every shit that I’d taken in the chastity belt. Alright, it wasn’t that bad. But I definitely felt a few pounds lighter when I stood back up. And good riddance - after my close encounter of the fat bitch kind yesterday, I had temporarily lost my appetite to become the most morbidly muscular machosaurus in all the land.

Of all the assholes, haters, and super-sized lard monsters I’ve met… only you made me forget my dream.

For a few minutes anyway. Then I was back on the road, on my merry way to the Church of Iron, to meet with Pastor Dunkan. As I passed through the market square, I noticed something odd: the pink-haired qt3.14 wasn’t at her usual tent - in fact, her entire tent had been removed. The lot stood vacant, which was odd, because it was in a prime location for business, next to the main street heading north from the square and towards the school.

I walked along that street until I reached the church, and then hesitantly walked in, unsure what to expect. The church was quiet back in Apis, but maybe in Castella they behead 72 infidels to appease Saia, the legendary wind spirit. Fortunately, the walls did not appear to be splattered with blood, so I walked through the dark rows of pews to the altar. Just like in Apis, resting upon the altar was a metal bar with weights at the ends. Unlike in Apis, the altar was also attended by a magnificently endowed gentleman.

He was wearing a long, brown monk robe, with a hoodie that sat, unused, across his broad upper-back. The sleeves of the robe were torn off, most likely to make room for the pair of semi-automatic meat cannons attached to his death-star delts.

What the fuck are THOSE - and where can I buy them?

His back was turned to me, and as I watched, his arms raised from their sides until they were level with his shoulders, as if in praise of some unseen deity. In each of his hands, he held what looked like… A horseshoe crudely welded to a lump of metal. Also known as kettlebells. This man wasn’t praying - he was doing lateral raises! He lowered his arms back to his sides, and repeated the motion nine more times. There could be no doubt - the man was a gymbro.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Also, to clarify, I could not see his junk. The aforementioned “endowment” was strictly in reference to his upper-body. He probably had a huge dick, though, since you asked. Weirdo.

After repeating the motion ten times (and really grinding out that last rep) the man set the crude implements on the ground and turned around. He must not have heard me walk in, because he seemed startled by my appearance.

“So Euric wasn’t lying…” he finally said. “I didn’t think you were real.”

He rubbed his chin pensively, studying me carefully.

“Are you pastor Dunkan?” I asked after a healthy pause.

“I am, yes. And you must be… Bradley?” he asked.

“That’s me. Did Euric fill you in on my situation?”

“He did.” Dunkan replied, then in a lower tone, “Or rather, he gave me a letter from John. Have you brought the…” he trailed off, gesticulating with his hands.

“Yeah, I have them right here.” I said, opening my knapsack.

“Not here!” Dunkan said quickly, stepping forward. “Follow me.”

He led me through a small doorway in the back of the church, then down a flight of steps. If I didn’t place so much intrinsic trust in people who lift heavy objects, I’d be a bit reluctant to follow him. We arrived in a roomy chamber, scarcely lit by a couple of small barred windows near the ceiling. A couple of benches sat in the middle of the space, surrounded on all sides by cluttered shelves. I saw metal blocks of all shapes and sizes, broken pieces of anvils, an assortment of scrapped metal bars… just a whole bunch of garbage. If I was tetanus, this is where I would pick to settle down and start a family.

Duncan gestured, and we each picked a bench and took a seat. It wasn’t a bad sit either, the benches were covered with rough leather and possibly even stuffed with hay.

“So, if I’m not mistaken… you have a knife and a key, is that correct?” he asked. We were all alone down here, but he still spoke with a hushed tone. Duncan’s face was rough, yet friendly, with a well-trimmed white beard. My gut said I could trust him. I nodded and produced the items from my knapsack.

First he studied the knife carefully. He held out a hand, and a small slushee-bomb worked its way into being, at first hovering, then resting in his hand as it grew. When it was the size of a grapefruit, Duncan nodded, satisfied. He took a crunchy bite out of it, then threw the rest out of one of the windows.

“Can’t let it get too damp down here, the mold is unbelievable…” he muttered, distracted. After pondering for another long moment, he nodded.

“It’s the real deal, alright.” he said finally. “Been a long time since I held it, but there’s no doubt. And it’s just as John wrote - you’re too young to have stolen it. You say you found this in a cave?”

“Same cave that I woke up in, after coming from my home planet.” I nodded.

“Planet.” Dunkan emphasized. “Yes, you’re a Calderan alright. That’s not a word the average Alterran understands. First time I heard that the world was round, I thought the guy was pulling my leg. It pissed me off, actually - did he think I was an idiot or something? But then more and more visitors kept singing the same song, and one day I looked up at the moon, and I thought yeah, I guess that could be round.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m rambling. The key?”

The moment I produced the key, he gasped, studying it in his trembling hands.

“How many people know that you have this?” he asked.

I frowned, thinking. “There’s me, Maggie, John… and I guess Stella, but I don’t think she knows that it’s valuable.”

“Stella?”

“She’s a Crateran who arrived here about when I did.”

“Hmmmm…” Dunkan thought for a moment. “Let us pray she doesn’t notice anything when she sees the King.”

I nodded.

“John said you had a place to hide this stuff.”

“Indeed I do.” Dunkan rose from his seat, and strode to a back corner of the room. He knelt down and, delicately, lifted a loose stone from the floor. I put the items back in my knapsack, and placed it into the small cubbyhole that had been revealed.

“John was a good friend of mine back when we were both mercenaries.” Dunkan said, straightening back up and dusting himself off. “We shared many battlefields. He even saved my life once. In fact, that’s the exact favor he called in when he asked me to assist you - part of me wants to confiscate that key immediately and report you to the king, you know.”

“Oh.” I answered stupidly. I had no idea John was sticking his neck out so much. “Well, thank you very much.”

“You can visit this room any time you’d like, I leave the door unlocked.”

“Thanks.” I responded.

Now that he mentions it, this place is the perfect spot to train with the dagger…

I looked around again, picturing all the loads I was about to blow with that thing. They’d better not shine a black light on this place when I’m done with it. As my gaze went back and forth among the odd assortment of materials in the room, out of nowhere… it hit me!

“Do you train in here?” I asked Dunkan. His eyes lit up in response.

“Aye, lad! Burliness is next to godliness in the Church of Iron. Yet all too often, it is neglected by members of my flock. The mercenaries in this town lift the weight on the altar once, while they possess the vigor of youth, then spend the rest of their lives wasting away driving carts. Shameful!”

Something Dunkan had said struck a chord with me. I glanced hungrily over the pieces of equipment, picturing how I could use them to turn my toothpicks into girthpicks.

It’s not much… but I can work with it!

As the hamster wheels in my head turned, I thought out loud, “Why aren’t there more people here? This has got to be the only spot in the city to exercise…”

“Exactly!” Dunkan exclaimed. “These misguided youth spend all day swinging sticks around in the Coliseum, but in order to exorcise the weakness from their bodies, they need to train with resistance. Manual Labor! Yet they despise hard work - do you know what they call this place?”

I shook my head as he continued.

“The Torture Chamber! As if I’m trying to pull their fingernails out or stretch them on a rack! It’s… ahhh, it’s none of your concern.” Duncan finished, finally running out of steam.

“The Torture Chamber… I like that.” I grinned, turning to leave. “If they don’t like it down here, that’s fine. More gainz for me. I’ll be seeing you around Dunkan. Soon, and often.”

Because this little piggy is a glutton for punishment