Ok… so our trip to the pub was… well, informative. Not exactly the info I wanted, but enlightening all the same.

Everyone knows how hard it can be to get a group of adults together, even for a round at the pub. Well, it took some doing, but I managed to get Sean, Jake, and (reluctantly) Sara, Tim, and their newborn. Not ideal for a pub environment, but hey, you take what you can get. Warren was going to meet us there and Lucy and I walked down together.

One of the things I love about New English towns is the walkability and here was no exception.

What I wasn’t counting on was Lucy pointing out all the places that seemed entirely normal, but completely weren’t, if you knew who and what to ask for.

You know those “Historical House” placards you see around? Well, the metal ones with the crimson borders are the non-baseline places. We passed four of them on our way to the pub.

The first was an unassuming two story house that was from 1830-ish. It was apparently one of the local Reformation Clerics, an order that apparently predated the founding of the Catholic Church by something like three centuries. Exactly why Lucy mentioned their founding in this manner was a mystery to me, but I figured it had some connection, even if it wasn’t obvious. Most places with a safehouse had a Reformation Cleric nearby. They were apparently one of the better organizations for doctors in the non-baseline world.

Lucy even suggested that I might stop in for a scan, just so they have me on file for the area and in case they have to use a restorative on me. They apparently could even tell exactly what I am, based on some kind of… signature. Lucy said the word about twice, but it was no word I’d ever heard of and there isn’t an easy equivalent that Lucy could think of. So we just left it at that.

Truthfully, just knowing it was there was good to know, but as much as I wanted to know why I had managed to find a building that didn’t exist with people that are myth, legend, and otherwise impossible as far as baseline humans are concerned, I also didn’t necessarily want to be found out. At least not yet.

Next was an old timey printing place. It was a standard tourist stop on an unassuming corner. They had their sign out and they had the old style printing equipment lined up near the windows. Pretty standard stuff. Well, as it turns out, it’s also one of the local libraries for non-baselines. They have access to almost every book and while they are a tiny shop, they can get almost anything they don’t have immediately available. Lucy still grumbled about how there had been a three week wait for the last HP book though. Admittedly, I laughed. Even the non-baselines were fervent followers of baseline literature, even if only for a solid chuckle.

Third was another house. This was a three story that sat up a bit and had a bit of an overgrown yard. Except… except now that I came to really look at it… the yard looked less and less overgrown. The more I stood there and looked, the more I seemed to notice. The house was narrow, but clearly well cared for. And the yard… it reminded me more and more of a wild garden. I mentioned this to Lucy.

“Well, it kind of is. This is where one of the local witches lives and she makes a lot of her living making herbal treatments for baselines and us alike,” Lucy responded.

“A witch? Like a hexing kind?” I asked.

“Nah, more like the disappointed school matron kind. Definitely always be on your best manners around her,” Lucy warned.

“Or what? She’ll turn me into a newt?” I joked, thinking back on my Monty Python.

“No, dear. I’ll just be very disappointed in you,” came a commanding female tone that sounded like it was whispered in my ear, but was so clear that it might have been a boot camp sergeant very clearly enunciating at full volume from across the compound. All the other sounds seemed to get muted in that moment of words.

To my credit, I froze like a statue. One doesn’t not hear that kind of voice and not immediately question ‘what did I do’ or ‘what did she find out about’ or even ‘what didn’t I do’.

I turned my head slowly to look towards the voice, but there was no one there. I nearly jumped when Lucy tapped me on the shoulder and pointed towards the house. Sitting on the side porch to the house in a rocking chair was someone who could certainly have been mistaken for being a recently retired school matron from about 100 years ago.

She looked about 50, although my judge of female age has never been good. Even sitting down, I could tell that she was tall and judging from what I could see of the tightly laced boots she wore, those likely made her even taller. Lucy’s mention of school matron was on the money though because I almost instantly wanted to avoid her gaze.

Unlike the fantasy witches, she wasn’t unpleasant to look at, but she wasn’t a model either. Her features were bone sharp and her eyes were the sort that could spot bad penmanship at 100 paces. She wore no hat and appeared to be sticking with a basic grey dress that seemed to highlight her figure, making her appear more like a dull polished knife rather than a woman. Her hair was greying at the temples, but was a dark blonde.

“Run along now. I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later,” came the whispered voice in my ear again.

Suffice it to say that Lucy and I both turned as one and continued our way to the pub. Lucy confided later that she wasn’t sure how the witch did that voice trick, but that it was more than effective.

The last place was a spices and tea shop near the tourist district. I was a bit skeptical when Lucy pointed it out, but she promised it was the real deal. Apparently, it’s what passes for the local alchemist and apothecary for non-baselines, although they do keep the normal baseline goods on the counters. They apparently also handle the various deliveries and orders for the area.

We were almost at the pub when I finally had to ask.

“How has nobody spotted out any of these?” I asked Lucy.

“What do you mean?” she looked puzzled.

“They aren’t exactly hidden. What’s to stop baselines from spot them and, well, people like, uh, us?” I managed, trying not to give anything away.

“Oh… well, I think mostly it’s that people see what they want to see. A kind of built-in denial. Like, if you put a sign over an impressive looking stone building that says ‘Bank’, then that’s what most people expect it to be. And if you give people something specific to look at, they tend to ignore the little details,” she tried explaining.

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“Ok, well, I mean, that works for shops, but what about accidents? I can’t believe it’s all concealed magic and nobody’s never seen a lycanthrope, and similar,” I pressed.

Her explanation for the shops did make sense. When you make a sign, people tend to believe it. You fill a cheap beer bottle with another kind of cheap beer, most people would figure it’s what’s on the label, not what it actually is and even if they did notice a difference, they’re more likely to figure that there’s just something wrong with it, not that it’s a different beer entirely.

It almost made me laugh a bit thinking about that while Lucy was thinking about her response. We baselines sure could ignore stuff like nobody’s business. I’ve walked past that print shop at least a dozen times. Same for the witch and her garden and I sure couldn’t have told you there was anything odd about either one of them.

But at the same time, I had to wonder how much else I’d missed in seeing, just going about my ordinary life.

“Well, we all try to be careful and I guess when the odd things do happen, we deal with it. I mean things do happen, but they usually aren’t taken seriously. Most baselines think of magic and everything as some kind of fake fantasy that only exists in entertainment. Do you remember that news article about 10 years ago now, where some unknown critter that didn’t match anything ‘normal’ washed up on the beach? Or when those shoes with feet still in them were showing up in Canada?” Lucy tried explaining, using finger-quotes on the ‘normal’ to clearly indicate that her normal and the baseline normal were very patently different.

As it happened, I had seen and read several articles on both. There was general confusion in both of the reported new items. The feet were more of a criminal concern, but they had more or less disappeared from the news reports after about a week. The strange critter, which I had figured was some deep sea critter that by matter of tides, bad luck, and perhaps being half dragged and eaten, had ended up on the beach of Long Island.

We reached the pub then, so I honestly had to start putting those thoughts aside, but I did have to admit, people of the modern age did tend to see the unbelievable or have strange experiences and more often than not, it was ignored, cast aside as a fantasy, and generally ignored within about a week as though it hadn’t happened.

Sara, Tim, and their newborn were waiting when we arrived. Sara took a long look up and down Lucy and clearly wanted to ask questions, but refrained from doing so. I already knew one of them would have been asking if Lucy and I were dating. She loved to meddle like that. I still had no idea what she saw in Tim, but given that he’s the child’s father, there must be something there that I’m missing.

Tim for his part gave the usual soft handshake that puts you in mind of someone who has never had a callus in his life and never lifts anything heavier than a toothbrush (let alone a baby). Lucy appeared to look the pair over with a kind of amused look on her face. She explained later that she was rather surprised herself that those two would be pairbonded, given what she perceived to be Sara feeling intimidated in our combined presence and Tim’s… well, just kind of sense of being present, but forgettable the instant he left your sight.

Lucy and I ordered our drinks and cooed over the baby appropriately. Lucy didn’t seem too enamored with the child and I certainly wasn’t, but social obligations and conventions were there to some degree. In any case, it was at least a mutual social item between baselines and non-baselines it seemed.

We made some small talk - I talked a bit about the general updates in my office (I never talked specific business because NDAs are a pain), Tim spoke a bit about his work (some kind of support agent role for a pharmaceuticals company), Sara talked a bit about the baby (she being on maternity leave still), and Lucy talked about her job at a nearby glassblowing shop. Sean showed up after a bit as did Jake. Both had been held up at their workplaces, as per the usual adult complaint.

We managed to talk a bit more before Sara’s baby started to cry and Sara and Tim opted to say their goodbyes for one day and go home, rather than subjecting the pub to the extra crying.

Warren turned up shortly after they departed and sat down with a blank face, it took several moments for Sean and Jake to actually register that there was a new person at the table that they didn’t know. I made the introductions of course, Warren retaining his stoney blank face and Sean and Jake suddenly looking uneasy or perhaps more uneasy.

That was the one item that confused me from the whole evening. Sara, Sean, and Jake all appeared ill-at-ease with Lucy or the combo of Lucy and Warren. I didn’t find out why until later.

Warren, for his part, ordered a round for the table and an extra tall Long Island for himself. Usually, bartenders refuse to deliver such things (or at least in my experience they have). In this case, there wasn’t even a pause, before they started pouring. This meant that while the rest of us were in the process of finishing off our pints (Lucy was on her third can of whatever sparkling alcoholic flavored seltzer), Warren received a liter glass of Long Island Iced Tea. If we hadn’t watched it being made, we might not have believed it to be alcoholic, but there was no doubt about it.

Warren, for his part, seemed to appreciate the quantity of alcohol in the glass before him and appropriately sipped at it, even though after half the glass, he should have been almost visibly drunk.

The rest of the evening that Sean and Jake were present for seemed somewhat stilted, which was unusual for the pair. Especially since Sean was known to hit on any woman who wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and even that wasn’t usually enough to stop him. Initially, I chalked it up to Lucy and Warren being newcomers, but as the conversation went on, it just felt odd.

At the end, before Jake and Sean headed out, Jake pulled me to the side and asked if it was such a good idea for me to be involved with them (meaning Lucy and Warren). As far as I could tell, Lucy and Warren had been perfectly companionable all evening, and not half as much trouble as Sean could be when he had only two pints into him. Jake didn’t really explain except to try to suggest that Lucy and Warren seemed like some kind of trouble. He didn’t bother elaborating, so I was left more than a bit confused by this.

I ended up with 4 pints in me (which I sadly would definitely feel in the morning as well as right then), Lucy had polished off 5 of those canned seltzers, and Warren finished off his extra tall Long Island, without so much as a hint that the alcohol was affecting him in the slightest.

We began our walk home and as we were passing the print shop, Warren mentioned wanting to stop for a book. Given that it was 10 pm, I thought surely it was too late, but Warren rang the bell in an interesting pattern that I guessed was related to indicating non-baselines at the door.

A younger man, probably about 23, came to the door after a few moments, looking thoroughly frustrated and annoyed.

“What do you want, Warren? I’m in the middle of something,” the younger man said curtly.

“I’m here about one of my holds. What’s the trouble? Anything we can help with?” Warren prompted.

“I doubt it. Neither of you does traditional magic,” the younger man said, before his eyes landed on me. “You… what are you?”

“I’m Sam. I live next door to Lucy and Warren,” I proffered my hand out. He simply looked at it until I lowered it.

“That’s not what I asked. I asked what are you,” the younger man half-way glowered.

“He’s a kind of wild mage,” Lucy piped up.

“So he’s even less helpful than either of you two. Come on in then and get your bloody books,” the younger man said, turning away and leading us into the basement, which was lined with all manner of books and what I could only describe as grimoires and scrolls. It was like walking into a fantasy painting of a library.

“I don’t know, but I can certainly give it my best shot,” I ventured, the alcohol making me a bit more forward than I might normally have been.

“I highly doubt it, unless you know anything about R-grade scroll spells,” the younger man said, wandering over to what was apparently his desk, with a rather complex looking drawing on a scroll-like parchment.

“I don’t, but I know someone who can certainly do the job,” I said, looking around the area for a moment before seeing what I wanted. Grabbing it and setting it on the desk next to the younger man, I looked at him and waited a moment.

“Is this some kind of joke?” the younger man asked, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“Certainly not. Walk your… goose totem through the spell. Don’t skip over anything,” I explained.

The younger man looked over at Lucy and Warren, who both shrugged simultaneously, and so he appeared to begin talking to said goose totem. Warren, having picked up his book, led us back up stairs and we were in the process of closing the door when we heard the younger man exclaim.

“Of course I forgot that rune, why in the red thunders would I have forgotten it?!”