As far as I could tell in the dimly lit holding cell, I was the only female present, which was inherently disconcerting. Nobody moved or spoke; either the floor was incredibly interesting, or conversation was forbidden. Having to find and speak to someone was a tall order, especially considering my antisocial tendencies.

Nothing for it but to suck it up and ask, I guess. “Um,” I stuttered, and immediately wished I didn’t. All eyes focused on me at once, with uncanny swiftness. “Eep!” A silly noise left me before I could catch it. What was WITH these devs and making people suddenly stare into your soul?! If this kind of thing keeps happening, I’ll have a heart attack. I swear I’ll sue if that happens.

At least I won’t have to ask these scary people one by one, now that I’m the center of attention. “Anyone know a Calvin?” I squeaked. A couple guys raised one shackled hand and pointed silently to the back corner of the holding cell. “Thanks,” one last squeak, and a couple of them actually chuckled at me before resuming their inspection of the floor. Laughter was better than hate, but it still made me feel awkward. I scurried over to the indicated corner, trying to keep my head low.

One man was leaning against the wall, appearing to not notice or mind his own iron chains. He had plenty of bright scars on his bare chest, and was only moderately muscular. Ooh-la-la,I wolf-whistled mentally, but then halted that train in its tracks. Down, girl! You’re a prisoner about to be Exiled, no ogling! I sharply reprimanded myself and went to greet this Calvin person.

“Oh, a new face? Welcome, girly,” he said before I could start. “Make yourself at home,” he scoffs.

“Um, what’s going to happen now?” I half-whispered shyly. I meant it, too. There was no warning of any kind that the freaking tutorial would be this intense, and I was legitimately worried even though it wasn’t my real body at risk. And there wasn’t even any risk yet!

Calvin eyed me with something akin to sympathy. “Girly, what’s going to happen now is we’re all being Exiled. The Kingdom deemed us ‘unfit for societal reform’” here he made air quotes, making his chains rattle, “so they’re dumping us in Wraeclast.”

I must have made a pretty pitiful face, because Calvin suddenly put a large hand on my shoulder - it took all my willpower not to “Eep!” out loud again - and said, “Now, you have to be strong to survive. It is possible to survive in Wraeclast, but only if you’re of iron will and steel nerves. Take this, you need it more than I,” and he passed me a small loaf of hard bread from his pocket. “Don’t let the soldiers see you with that, they’ll steal it and feed it to the rats.”

Surprised, I accepted the bread automatically, and was about to start gnawing on it when another tutorial panel popped up.

All players have a minimum Inventory pre-equipped. Open your bag to open the Inventory screen.

We do? I examined myself, and noticed a tiny leather satchel strapped to my thigh just under the ragged hem of my tattered dress. Was that there before? Somehow I doubted it. I shrugged, and pulled open the flap of the satchel. Sure enough, a panel expanded from the mouth of the bag with “Inventory” written at the top and twelve empty boxes in a grid. I touched the loaf to a box, and it sank into the panel and became a picture of a loaf that took up one box. Yet another text box opened once I did.

Some items take up more slots than others. Be sure to manage your Inventory wisely.

I barely had time to read the short message before I heard the clanking of guards approaching. Calvin’s face settled into a stoic grimace, but some of the other prisoners visibly paled. With a creak, the cell door opened and the leading soldier barked, “All right, you lot. Follow and be silent, and we won’t have trouble.” One by one, all the inmates rose from their seats and shuffled out of the cell and down the corridor.

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Follow the Imperial Guards.

As if I was going to ignore them, I scoffed mentally, dismissing the prompt. I stood and trailed after the others, but apparently I wasn’t properly submissive enough because as I passed the guard by the door, he scowled at me and smacked me in the back of the head with his elbow. I stumbled and nearly tripped, but regained my balance at the last second. I heard him “tsk” when I didn’t fall, but didn’t feel like looking back to glare at him. I got the feeling it would only bring more trouble, and although I was protected from losing health during the tutorial, getting smacked still hurt!

The pain was very much dulled from reality, since nobody would dare go on any kind of adventure if even weak monsters could chew you to bits and it would hurt like the real thing. I think the maximum pain threshold was 30% or something. It’s still an impressive percentage; getting roasted alive might not feel like actual fire, but it sure as hell wouldn’t just be warm.

I had just been mindlessly following the crowd of prisoners and not paying much attention to my surroundings. It was only when thin sunlight hit my face that I blinked and noticed that we were on some sort of dock, surrounded by huge Navy ships. The one our group was headed toward was painted entirely black, and had no name on the hull. I don’t know a lot about ships, but this certainly didn’t seem promising.

The line of prisoners was led up a steep gangplank onto the deck, then immediately down a long ladder into the dark belly of the ship. Whoever built this ship was either a sadist or a criminal, since the interior of the hold looked like a wooden version of the dungeon we just left, cells and all. We were all hustled into cells and locked in. The soldiers brusquely finished their tasks and returned to the deck, leaving all of us silent and morose in the dark.

Well, most of us. From the cell across from me, I hear a quiet chuckle. “You don’t seem too fazed, girly.” Calvin! As the only other person I’d spoken to so far, it was reassuring that he was at least within earshot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m freaking out…” I told him honestly. I was surprised once again by my new voice. “Do you know what will happen to us in Wraeclast?”

There was a long pause. Calvin seemed to be debating something, from the little I could see of his face in the dim light. “I do,” he eventually said, “but I’m not sure you’d want to hear it.”

“Tell me. It’s not like I can go anywhere else anyway.” I tried to be firm.

“Hahahahaha! You really are a tough one, aren’t ya?” he laughed, loudly enough to make some other inmates flinch. I guess I convinced him. “Alright, girly, here’s what’s about to happen. This ship is going to sail for three weeks, and the guards won’t give two shits if we survive the trip or not. Wraeclast is surrounded by rough waters, and constantly storming, so it’s a toss-up if we’ll even make it to shore. If we don’t, we drown, if we haven’t died onboard already; if we do, then Gods help us. No one has ever returned from Wraeclast,” Calvin suddenly grew immensely serious. His words sent chills down my spine. Were games always this viscerally intense?

I wasn’t given any more time to ponder all this new information, because the whole ship suddenly shuddered and began to move. We were on our way now, one way or another, and I could only fervently hope that Calvin’s claims were exaggerated.