The stranger couldn’t imagine a scenario in which they would feel more like a toddler undergoing some kind of mental evaluation.

They’d been escorted through the building, past the two front counters and sitting spaces, under the grand insignia – an ax and sword on a starry shield – then through a little storage room, past the stairs, and finally into a moderate sized kitchen with a table and chairs on one end.

The nice lady held their hand the entire time, guiding them to sit in a chair while she puttered around. The stranger didn’t know what to think of this.

The two men were arguing. The stranger couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whisper-yelling was pretty evident in their facial movements and hushed tone, even from a distance. They stood close to each other with the dark-featured man on the left side of the mage, furtively glancing at the stranger.

They watched as the lady moved about the kitchen, gathering things from baskets and drawers, tending to a kettle. Eventually, she provided him with a plate of food – dried berries and fruit slices, bread, cheese – and a cup of warm tea.

The stranger tried to be polite, avoiding gulping down the entire spread in one bite. If it was nighttime now, then… two days had passed since they last ate. And they weren’t even sure the meal in their original body counted.

The tastes were familiar but not identifiable. No flavors that could be easily named as blackberries or apples. It was tasty, however, so the stranger wasn’t complaining.

Not that anyone would understand their complaints.

They observed their surroundings while they chewed. The woman served herself tea and set out more for the two men who were still in a vicious battle of whispers. She avoided getting too close to their discussion, as if they were of higher rank or importance.

Her clothes hardly seemed like that of kitchen staff. They were more akin to an office worker, a receptionist even. Given the two large desks dotted with paperwork in the front hall, the stranger guessed she was a receptionist here.

She talked to the stranger very kindly in an even voice, asking them questions and pausing to see if there was any response. The stranger watched, trying to be as nice as possible, but they had no idea what she was saying.

She was really pretty.

She wasn’t the waifish, paper-white, dainty creature that elves conjured up in the stranger’s mind. Nor was she obviously the flamboyant drama of that one elf in the Lord of the Rings movies.

In the stranger’s world – the name eluded them still, like something barely forgotten – the lady could have been described as black or mixed with light skin. She had green eyes, though the stranger had noticed that eye color was widely variable in this world, so maybe that wasn’t an unusual feature. And freckles. A chipped tooth. Pretty lips…

The stranger brought themselves back to a much more comfortable and less dreamy reality, taking a sip of their tea awkwardly. It tasted of citrus and a duller kind of mint. They smiled at her as she pointed at the teacup, presumably asking if they liked it.

Of course, she had her pointed ears too, poking out to the side.

It was interesting. The stranger maybe passed by or talked in the direction of more than a hundred people today, and none of them had those same ears. Were elves here like high fantasy elves? Was there an elven kingdom somewhere?

The lady moved suddenly, realization sweeping over her face. She threw a hand in front of her mouth and stood, grabbing the stranger’s arm and pulling them out into the hallway.

There were lights dotting the walls. Not like electricity, but glowing pieces of glass or crystal. Were they magical? They had to be, right?

The stranger was placed in front of a closed door. The lady went wah wah wah, then pointed back to the kitchen, where she proceeded to go.

Huh, weird.

The room was small. The glass light lit up when the stranger patted it, though they had patted every inch of the wall trying to find a switch first.

Oh, thank the fates and everything above. It was a fucking bathroom.

After a blissful few minutes of the joys of running water and toiletry, they opened the door to leave, but… the stranger found themselves face to face with a mirror.

Even without context of their new normal, the stranger understood that they looked like absolute shit.

Red hair had already been established. It was dirty, tangled, and unkempt. They picked out thorns from the tangles and tried to tame it a little. If brushed back, it would look fine.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

The hair led to sideburns that grew well past their ear to the angle of their jaw. The sideburns were shaggy, which the stranger was kind of into. They’d always wondered why guys stopped having sideburns anymore. Maybe not the mutton chop kind, but a little extra hair never killed anyone.

The stubble was there. It was a lighter red than their hair, so it was harder to see, especially in this lighting.

Brown eyes, downturned at the edges with pronounced tear troughs. It made them look permanently tired. The lack of good rest and shelter hardly helped.

Eyebrows? Red-brown and thick. No surprises there. Well, one surprise. They had always been told that red hair was thin and fair. This was coarse and wavy.

No freckles. That was fine.

A large nose. What was it called? Roman. Hooked. Something like that. The guildmaster had a large nose too and by comparison, the stranger’s was smaller.

But the guildmaster seemed at least 20 years older, so it tracked. Noses and ears were the things that never stopped growing.

There was a scar on their chin from the edge of their mouth downward. Ah, that sword. Right. So magic could heal things but not prevent scars. Interesting.

It felt weird to assess their own lips on an unfamiliar face, but they were nice, the stranger supposed. Not thin. Maybe even girlish, if put to a choice. This felt odd.

The quiet was broken by a question.

The stranger nearly jumped out of their skin, turning rapidly to see the mage watching them intently from the doorway.

“What the fuck,” they sighed out. They had stopped talking earlier out of weariness and simple lack of effort. It didn’t seem worth trying to communicate with language. The mage startled words out of them.

The mage stared at them, and the stranger stared back. They realized quickly that the mage had two eyes, yes, but one was real and blue and the other was glassy and silvered under the surface.

With a mumbled apology for staring, the stranger went back to the kitchen to sit with the lady. The two men moved into another room, the sounds of steps on the stairs echoing down the hall.

The food was consumed in its glorious entirety before the stranger began to wonder what would happen next.

Their injuries were gone thanks to… it had to be the mage, right? The looming, dark man didn’t seem to be a healing type at all. More of the stabby type, if the stranger had to guess.

The lady helped them to their feet and explained something in detail, gesturing in a direction behind her. They listened patiently, hoping something would make sense. It didn’t.

Earlier, Anton gave orders to the guildmaster to help the foreigner as best as he could without spoiling him. That choice of words ruined the court mage’s attempts at concealing the truth, as Viktor immediately latched onto the meaning.

The fifth hero.

The whispered argument was about the practicality of ‘hiding’ a hero who couldn’t communicate and how horrible everything would go the moment the king-consort discovered the deception.

If the king-consort learned of this deception – or learned that Viktor the ex-spy had, in any way, been in contact with a missing hero – he would easily use that information to frame both the guildmaster and the court mage for treason. That was why they couldn’t simply turn the hero in.

But, when the queen returned from her diplomatic trip to Staareaux, they could approach the Crown with this revelation. She would be much more understanding. Or, at minimum, much less likely to jump to the treason and execution conclusion.

It was decided that Viktor would guide the unknowing hero to develop skills and understanding, under the pretense that the hero was just a random stranger. Anton planned to check in frequently without raising suspicion.

Besides, Viktor wanted a challenge, right? He wanted a chance to keep the king-consort from corrupting the minds of all the heroes, correct?

Anton plucked at the guildmaster’s ego until he relented, swearing to secrecy.

In turn, while the stranger was in the bathroom, the guildmaster gave orders to Stella. If she wanted to have a pet foreigner for some reason, it was her duty to take care of him.

The guildmaster permitted using a small amount of money to purchase a second pair of clothes and undergarments, but he specifically instructed Stella to take the foreigner to the leatherworker first thing in the morning. The boy could learn how to tan and clean hides in exchange for boots.

The same order pertained to any other item the foreigner needed. Find an artisan and barter work for equipment. If that wasn’t possible, show the foreigner where to harvest plants for fetch quests, then use the money for goods.

Before he retired to his quarters upstairs with the court mage, the guildmaster left a special card on the front desk for Stella to find in the morning, specifically for the foreigner.

Ordinarily, a systems mage – Stella’s speciality – would take the metal card and use magic to automatically transcribe basic information about a new guild member. Name, age, class, subclass, point of origin. Stats were on the back, which was a quick reference to help guild staff assign quests and link up parties.

The foreigner couldn’t read; therefore, he could not access the system, which was a visual-internal process. That meant he could not have a guild card made.

The special card permitted the foreigner the regular benefits of being a guild member – the ability to sell beast parts and other materials at any vendor, namely – with a little addition. It was absent of information, but Viktor wrapped a blood-red ribbon around the center of it with a message and the guildmaster’s insignia pressed in wax.

(This man is cursed. He does not understand language. Give him a fair price & pay. – V)

The guildmaster’s reputation would keep the foreigner from being cheated and taken advantage of by local vendors, at minimum.

Aside from the first day, Stella wasn’t permitted to escort the foreigner anywhere. Once the boy was given boots, a bag, a knife, and a map, he was on his own.

The elf didn’t argue with the guildmaster. He usually would accept disagreement and even debate, if logical, but Stella could tell from his tone that he meant business.

To the surprise of the men, she offered up her accommodations for the foreigner. Their eyebrows were less raised once Stella explained that her home – merely a hundred paces from this spot – had two bedrooms and she only needed one. The other was bare, with the occasional travelling guild member staying a night if inns were full.

Once everything was settled, Stella showed the foreigner to his room and brought him a second blanket.

There was hardly any time for the stranger to feel awkward and weird about the arrangement, as the bed was very comfortable, and they were very tired.

Their anxieties would need to wait until the morning.