“Before signing a contract for a new life, be sure to read the fine print.” -Entry from "Simon's Journal"
It hadn't even been five seconds into his second life before Simon had to avoid death once again. Oh shit! He scrambled out of the way of the oncoming cart, desperate to not be sent right back to Azrael’s office. The green-scaled reptile hauling the cart nearly crushed his legs as it thundered past him. Its irate driver yelled at him as it passed, "By Quetzal's scales, get out of the road!"
Doing his best to avoid becoming roadkill, Simon dodged and weaved through the bustling road, where cart-hauling reptiles adorned in vibrant green and red scales hurried about their business. Still disoriented from his abrupt transfer from Azrael's office to this chaotic scene, he desperately sought safety on the nearby tan sidewalk. However, two carts threatened to cut him off, leaving him with no other option but to leap. "Please, make it!" he thought, as he landed in a messy heap just moments before the carts would have crushed him. Sprawled on the ground, he found himself before a crowd of passersby on the sidewalk, who continued on their way without giving him a second glance. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked up, ready to apologize, but found himself gaping at the astonishing sight around him.
When Simon gazed back at the wide road, he noticed that it sloped downward, revealing a floating city in the middle of a lake. Sun-baked brick homes lined the multi-leveled streets, adorned with touches of greenery on the terraces. Blue canals crisscrossed the city, bustling with cargo-laden canoes and people. "Venice doesn't hold a candle to this. I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore," he thought, his amazement palpable. Just beyond the city, he spotted raised patches of land in the lake, where teams of men worked diligently on crops. Tall mountains and hills stood like sentinels over the horizon. Casting his gaze up the street, he marveled at the grand temple that towered over everything else in the city.
Lowering his gaze, Simon observed the people passing by, each absorbed in their daily lives. They wore light, multi-colored garments made of a cloth-like material suitable for the warm climate. Most of the passersby had tanned skin, ranging from lighter to darker shades, along with dark hair and brown eyes. He took notice of others in the crowd, they weren’t quite human but something… other? They looked like they came straight from storybooks or myths, so at odds with where he had come from it took him a second to process it. Humanoid reptiles, their scales displaying a multitude of colors, strolled by engaging in conversations. His attention was caught by a slender, fair-haired woman rowing a canoe, her long, pointy ears adding to her otherworldly allure. Laughter reached his ears as a trio of short, stocky men with long beards walked past him, their jovial banter filling the air.
Simon absorbed every fantastical sight around him, fully realizing that he was no longer on Earth. The name Azrael had mentioned—Eritia, a world so perilous that even Heaven refused to intervene—echoed in his thoughts. Somewhere in this world, his best friend was alive. He was determined to find him, no matter the cost— until the grumbling of his stomach interrupted his train of thought.
Hunger pangs gnawed at him, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach in distress. Simon cursed himself for not having eaten since the previous night before leaving for the club. Worried that his stomach would consume him before he had a chance to find Tommy, he sought respite from the scorching sun, moving towards the shade and leaning against a tan wall.
It occurred to Simon that the strange looks he had been receiving might be due to his attire—he was still wearing blue jeans, worn boots, a Led Zeppelin shirt, and his tan jacket from before he died. Not to mention, I looked like a homeless weirdo clutching my stomach, he thought belatedly. In the hope of finding some food, he rummaged through his pockets, pulling out an assortment of items: his smartphone, wallet, a journal with a pen, a battered copy of The Hobbit, a half-eaten candy bar, his grandfather's watch, and a pair of earbuds. Score! Taking a bite of the candy bar, he savored the stale sweetness.
As he munched on his candy bar, Simon caught snippets of conversation from the passersby. A couple discussed their upcoming marriage, a lizardman haggled for fruit, and a canoer shouted at someone to move. The words they spoke held meaning that he could understand. It was more than that, he could perfectly comprehend the language spoken in this world.
Trying not to appear too nosy, he continued to listen for a few more minutes, growing increasingly confident in his understanding. Could this be part of the contract? He hadn't had the opportunity to thoroughly read Eritia's contract given the circumstances. It almost felt like cheating to be able to bypass the struggle of learning a new language. At least he wouldn't find himself stumbling through interactions, trying to communicate.
Armed with this newfound ability to understand the language, Simon pushed himself off the wall. He decided to venture deeper into the city, away from the lake. The persistent hunger made him feel hollow, but the prospect of finding food fueled him. Being able to understand the languages gave him an idea. First, he needed to find food and a place to sleep. Once he got settled in, he could start searching for clues about his friend's whereabouts. But to do that, he would need something he rarely possessed.
Money.
A smile crept across Simon's face as he walked, scanning the surroundings for leads. Despite being hungry, homeless, and penniless, he felt a surge of excitement. This was the very reason he had embarked on so many travels—to experience the thrill of a new environment, relying solely on his wits and determination. He simply needed to find a job. How hard could it be?
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Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam!
Within the span of an hour, five doors had been slammed in the face of the green-eyed, blonde youth. It seemed that Eritia had its own unique notions of politeness. Did I really have to be chased by a cat the last time? It didn't matter if he had died and arrived in a new world; the job market was always going to be tough.
Sitting with his back against a brick wall, Simon watched as canoes passed by in the canal. Absentmindedly rubbing the scratch he had received from the tavern's cat, he felt his stomach grumble again uncomfortably. At the very least he’d discovered that he could be understood when he spoke, although it didn't seem to make a significant difference.
So, this was his life now—being chased out of taverns by cats while starving on the streets. Eritia truly lived up to its dangers... of imminent starvation.
Simon knew that moping wouldn't get him anywhere, so he got up and decided to try his luck in another area, hoping for better results. Just as he was about to leave the canal-side street, a shout caught his attention. He turned and saw a large man and his fully loaded canoe sinking into the canal. The burly man had tanned skin, a bushy beard, and muscular forearms. He fought to save his sacks of food while loudly cursing for everyone on the street to hear. Simon's ears reddened when he heard a particularly colorful swear involving a sailor and a siren. One of the sacks drew his attention as the sunlight glinted off the red apples inside.
Food! His mouth watered at the sight of the fruit. Someone has to eat those apples… he meant, to save those apples! If I help, maybe I can get an apple or even just a chance to take one. Driven more by hunger than reason, Simon kicked off his shoes and jacket. Bracing himself for the cold water, he dived in. Pleasantly surprised he found the water to be cool under the afternoon sun as he swam towards the sinking canoe, intent on lending a hand.
"Godsdammit, Kelnar, is this how you patch a boat?" the bearded man bellowed, still precariously balancing on the sinking canoe, with an oar and a sack in his hands.
Reaching the sack, Simon grabbed it and tried to hold it up for the man to take. "Here you go sir—Ow! Hey, I'm trying to help! Stop it, blub!" he shouted in protest as the oar whacked down on his head. He struggled to stay afloat and avoid swallowing any more water, shouting in between gasps for air and blows from the oar, he shouted. "I'm just trying to help!" Finally, his words seemed to get through to the large man, who lowered his oar and appeared somewhat embarrassed. He tossed his oar into the water as if trying to act like he hadn't just been whacking Simon.
"My bad, boy... thought you were a thief. Help me get these out, would you?" the burly man said, seemingly brushing off the incident. Grumbling, Simon assisted him in retrieving another sack as they made their way toward the side. After the burly man pulled him up, they both watched as the canoe finally sank to the bottom of the canal. The two men stared for a few seconds just letting the water drip off of them in the middle of the sidestreet. Simon rubbed the bump forming on his head as he looked up at the man he had helped.
"Nima's going to give me an earful when I get back. Fucking Kelnar," the canoer muttered, spitting to the side. Meeting Simon's gaze, his eyes took in Simon's drenched modern attire, and he apologized, "Sorry for whacking you. I appreciate your help. May Quetzal bless you."
"It's no problem. Anyone else would've done the same. I'm just glad the apples are safe," Simon replied, eyeing the sack next to him hungrily.
"In the western district? You must be new to the city because I'd expect to find a thief more often than a helping hand. I would've been lucky to salvage three sacks," the man said, chuckling heartily, extending his hand toward Simon. "The name's Hasen Bastir, and yours?"
"Simon Everland," Simon replied, shaking his hand. "Right, totally wasn't trying to steal an apple. That'd be ridiculous," he added jokingly.
"Where are you from, boy? Your accent is a strange one... I've sailed most of the known world and never encountered one like yours." Hasen inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.
"How do I explain that I'm from another world?" Simon thought to himself. Saying he was American would only complicate things. Then, a thought of stupid brilliance came to him, remembering an awkward classmate he had back in high school.
"I, uh, am from the north. My folks raised me in a small town... I mean a village! You probably haven't heard of it before," Simon lied, sticking to the classic line akin to "My girlfriend goes to another school."
Hasen rubbed his beard, letting flecks of water fall to the ground as he considered Simon's response. "Hmm, you must be Calranian then. I've never seen garb like that before, but you've got the look of them. What brings you to Tenalan?"
"I'm traveling in search of a friend," Simon replied, adding bits of truth to make his story more believable. "I'm in need of a job, but I'm having a hard time finding any. I've had more doors slammed in my face than I can count."
"Work, eh? I can do something about that," Hasen said, taking my hands and inspecting the calluses on them, nodding in approval. "My inn needs an extra hand. Nima will have the final say, but I'll sweet-talk her. Grab one of those sacks and follow me."
Hasen reached down and effortlessly lifted three of the sacks onto his shoulders. Simon could tell the man looked strong but they were moved like they were light as feathers. Strangely, Simon thought he noticed Hasen's veins faintly glowing with a blue light as he shouldered the load. Rubbing his eyes, the veins appeared normal under the bright sun. Realizing Hasen had offered him a job and was already walking away, he ran to catch up.
"Wait, but I haven't agreed yet..." Simon began, but his stomach grumbled, interrupting him loudly. Ahh, that’s embarrassing, he thought. Hasen chuckled a little as he rummaged in one of the sacks. Hasen tossed something at him that glinted red under the afternoon sun. Simon caught the bright red apple in his hands as he looked up at Hasen in question.
"Consider that your first payment. Get a move on," Hasen said, turning to continue walking.
Hefting the last sack left behind, Simon chased after his new employer. Taking a bite of the apple, he felt the juice drip down his face as he walked. "This has to be the best apple I've ever had," he thought. As they ventured deeper into the floating city, he couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of optimism for the opportunity that had come his way. Maybe this world wouldn't be so bad after all.