“I am not interested,” Goreth spoke as he slowly stood up and adjusted the countless items hanging from his belt. “I wish to provide my services to all Champions. And even though I am thankful, I would prefer to work alone. For now.” He stared them down for a moment before nodding and turning away. “Farewell.”
Frank watched the Minotaur leave, then glanced toward Wilbur.
The Beastfolk was nodding to Esther, eyes downcast and ears still red. She patted him on the head, then looked back at Frank and winked.
Frank felt conflicted. They needed someone on the frontline, and Wilbur’s Suit was perfect for such a role. But he was also a kid. And if these Trials had people enrolled like himself or like Esther… then it couldn’t be that safe.
Frank glanced right. Hel’va–also a kid–was nervously dusting off her clothes.
What kind of Trials are these going to be? Frank hadn’t chosen to take part in the competition, but apparently, the locals did. They really wanted to participate. Hell. Tasos’ whole vendetta seemed to be rooted in fact that they got to be Champions while he didn’t.
Esther turned to Hel’va next. The girl listened for a moment as she wrung her hands, then stood up. “Thank you for helping me escape. I wouldn’t have been able to get away by myself.” She stepped away, then bowed to all of them. “But I want to find some Champions from my country first. Or from my guild. And I would love to provide my services whenever you need them. For a reduced price.” And when they all just stared at her in confusion, she stammered. “I’m an
Frank smiled at Hel’va and wished her well. Both Salem and Wilbur waved while Esther gave her a one-armed hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”
And with that, Hel’va headed toward the crowd in the distance, and soon enough disappeared amid the milling Champions, leaving Frank, Esther, Salem and Wilbur in an awkwardly quiet mood.
Frank turned toward Salem, who met his eyes and raised a brow. “What? Do I need to ask? To be part of the team?”
Esther sighed, then pulled herself until she could sit next to Frank, facing Salem.
Frank watched her for a moment, and when he got what she was doing, he ruefully shook his head. He straightened his back and gave Salem his blandest smile while Esther–who seemed briefly surprised that he went along with her theatrics–leaned forward, looking at a piece of invisible paper only she could see. “Tell us…em–candidate. Why do you want to join our team? And why should we hire you?”
Frank waved a hand as he considered his words. “How would you say… you bring value to a team?”
Salem stared back at them, then his eyes flicked to Wilbur, whose steps clicked in the quiet space as he made his way closer to the discussion. He sat down, then looked up at Salem expectantly.
Frank suppressed his smile.
“For the love of—” Salem palmed his forehead for a second, then spoke. “I guess going through all that together wasn’t enough. Fine.”
He paced for a couple of seconds, then lifted a finger. “First, I can save you all a fortune in refining meals. Second, I can also prepare magical foods. That we can use ourselves. And sell to the poor sods who don’t have a
Frank and Esther simultaneously raised an eyebrow, and Salem peered back at them for a moment before remembering. He dropped his hand. “Right. Seedworlders.”
Salem sighed and dusted off his robes. “Refining meals are…something you’ll have to learn about later. What they do isn’t too complicated to explain, but it ties into things I’m not qualified enough to explain. As for magical foods, that means I can technically prepare meals that are as effective as potions. Stamina, healing, and all that good stuff.”
He crossed his arms and looked down at them, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Do you get why I’m also a Champion now? I’m as valuable as an
Frank wanted to wipe the smirk off the cook’s face, but he had to admit, meals that replaced potions sounded valuable. And that was without considering the value of these refining meals. Of course, Frank already considered him part of the team, and so did Esther. She wouldn’t be messing with him if she didn’t. But with the attitude he was displaying, Frank was tempted to make the man sweat some more.
“What do you mean technically?”
Frank looked sidelong to Ester, then back to Salem, whose smug smile suddenly became the poster-child of polite smiles. “Hmm?” he asked, as if he had misheard.
Esther grinned. “You said you can technically prepare meals ‘as effective as potions’. Why did you mean by technically? Can you prepare such meals? How many of them do you know?”
Now I feel bad for him, thought Frank.
Salem brushed at his clothes and swallowed. When he finally answered, his eyes averted. “I’m–uh…sort of a beginner. I don’t have a lot of…ah, recipes. But that’s of course why I’m here. Why we’re all here. To become the best in our fields.” His eyes landed on Frank and Esther again. “Well. You both didn’t get to choose. But you were probably good at something.”
Frank felt the words slide between his ribs. To his side, he heard Esther sigh and lean backward. She waved the chef down. “We’re just messing with you. Sit down.”
Salem seemed to have caught on that the mood had suddenly changed, and even Wilbur was peering at them curiously.
Frank looked down at his hands. What we’re good at, huh?
The
Esther gave him an amused smile. “You don’t need to keep upselling us, you know.”
Salem shook his head. “No, you two are clueless. You need the context.”
Still cheeky.
“In the Trials, we’re all called Champions, true. But in reality, that refers to you guys. The ones that go outside and fight and risk their lives. Me–same as Hel’va–we’re Crafters. Our job is to provide services that make your life easier. Need anything? Then there’s probably someone around who could fulfill that need. In exchange, we get paid in AP. And that gives us access to a special marketplace. Just for us. Recipes. Private repositories and libraries. Mentorships,” he listed, counting on his hands. Then he looked up at them, and his eyes shone. “In the last Trials, a
He sighed. “But of course, we don’t all move forward with every Trial. We need to do well, or we get cut off and go home. That’s why some Crafters join teams. And if I join yours, I will provide you with my services for free in exchange for a share of everything the team earns. Is that clear so far?”
Esther raised a hand, a wide grin on her face. “Does that mean you’ll be our private chef?”
Even Wilbur’s ears twitched at that. The Beastfolk slowly got up, and all three Humans looked at him. He looked down the Hall, at the small crowd in the distance, and it seemed as if he wanted to say something. The Suinah shared a look with Esther–who nodded to him.
Wilbur cleared his throat into his hand and stood straight. For a second. Then he shuffled in a place before he spoke. “Miss Esther said I can join the team if I want. I can fight. I have a–”
“You’re in,” Frank said. He knew that the kid was participating in these Trials, dangers or not. But at least we could keep an eye on him, he told himself. Then he turned to Esther and whispered. “I thought you already invited him.”
The Beastfolk stared back at them for a few seconds as he processed what he had just heard. After a moment, he shuffled his feet, and his peg-leg slipped a bit against the marble floor, but he seemed used to that. He whispered. “I’m in? Even though I lo–”
“You’re in!” said Esther, leaning over to hug the Suinah, but stopped, wincing in pain. She pointed to him. “You’ll have to let me ride on your shoulders when you have the big armor on, though. And you can ride on my shoulders in return. If you want.”
“Why didn’t he have to answer your dumb questions?” protested Salem.
Frank and Esther turned to the
The appalled expression of the man made him chuckle. “So. What recipes do you know? The magical kind, I mean. Will you be making our meals, or do we need to get rations and whatnot?”
Salem’s eye twitched at the mention of rations. Frank saw him take a deep breath before he spoke between gritted teeth. “Of course you won’t be needing rations.”
Both Salem and Frank paused and turned. Esther had finally stood up, and was slowly lifting an embarrassed Beastfolk in the air. She put him on her shoulders, in a classic shoulder-ride, and beamed at both of them.
Salem took a step back and looked far toward the crowd. He hummed. “Maybe it’s not too late,” he said.
Frank stared at the man, and so did Esther and Wilbur.
Salem stared back at them, then sighed. “I’m joking. And here’s what I can do. We’re going to need it, anyway. Gods… it’s not even noon yet.”
He looked into the air for a few and his brows furrowed. A moment later, a familiar light appeared in front of him. “This is an expensive demonstration,” he said, glaring at them. “You should definitely appreciate it. Gods know how much it costs. But there’s no better way to prove what my food can do.”
A paper-wrapped package popped into his hands, and Frank saw the man wince until he grabbed it by the edge. He gently unwrapped and steam rose out of the content. “Come on, then. You’ll have to share.”
“It smells so good.”
Esther was already peering over the content when Frank was finally close enough to see–and smell–the four blue peppers. Esther gingerly picked one up and passed it along to Wilbur, then grabbed one for herself. They looked somewhat like blue-skinned jalapeño peppers, with a crust of stuffing where the stem would have been. The skin was crisp and soft from the frying.
The first bite made him sigh and close his eyes. The mouthful exploded into peppery and savory flavors of herbs and spices, and the second bite added even more flavor as the breading crunched and contrasted with the softness of everything else.
Frank opened his eyes and found himself staring at Salem’s last pepper as the man prepared to bite into it. Both Wilbur and Esther were staring at it as well, and Frank was sure he wasn’t the only one who considered snatching the last bite out of Salem’s hand.
Then Frank paused.
He felt something. In his stomach. A warmth that seemed to roil over itself, somewhat similarly to what he had experienced with the healing potion. The odd heat then started to spread out of his stomach in waves and wherever that heat traveled, fatigue was vaporized.
Within a few seconds, Frank felt like he just woke up from the most restful sleep he’d ever had.
“Mmm. That hits the spot,” said Salem, as he wiped his fingers on the paper wrap. “That’s what magic food can do. What you just had was stamina restoration, by the way. With a touch of healing boost. Mana restoration is possible. Meals to help you meditate and to ease the channeling of Glyphs. Strength. Speed. Resistances. There are countless recipes. And I’m here to get as many of them as I can.”
Frank looked down at the oil covering his fingers and focused on the feeling he was getting from his body. The effects had been so quick.
The quiet, shocked silence was interrupted finally by Esther. “You’re hired.” She turned to Frank and pointed at the chef as Wilbur nodded. “He’s hired.”
Salem frowned. “I thought I was already part of the team.”
Frank dismissed that. “That was probation.” He glanced at the cook. “How many of those do you have? Is this going to be a daily thing?”
Salem barked out a laugh. “Unless you’re the lost son of some merchant noble, then no. I will mostly be preparing regular meals. Better than rations. It will be warm, fresh, and tasty. And there will be some enhancing dishes, but they aren’t many and they would be for emergencies. These are expensive to make. So when you guys are out there, you’ll have to collect things for me to experiment and cook with. We’ll talk about it more.”
Esther groaned. “All this talk of food is killing me. And the pepper made it worse. Let’s go get something. Come on.”
Without waiting, she started walking toward the crowd, chatting with Wilbur while Frank and Salem followed.
Frank glanced around as they approached the crowd. “Shouldn’t there be some sort of guide or receptionist we could talk to?”
“We’ll probably find an Agent pretty soon,” said Salem. Their steps echoed slightly around them, then the cook spoke again. “You two knew each other? Back in your world?”
“We were best friends,” shouted back Esther.
Frank rolled his eyes. “Sometimes colleagues, and sometimes competition. Depending on the job. But yeah, we knew each other from before.”
Esther slowed down and Wilbur spoke. “Which world was it?”
“We called it Earth.”
Frank expected them to recognize it, same as the mayor had. But he didn’t expect Wilbur’s excitement. The Beastfolk turned fast, his eyes bright. “Is that the one with metal suit stories?”
Esther looked up. “You mean robots?”
Wilbur tapped Esther’s head. “Yes! I mean no. I mean the hero stories with the man that wears the iron Suit.”
Frank frowned as he tried to recall the last few years, while the Suinah gestured to be lowered to the ground. “I think he means comics. And movies. I’ve heard of a bunch of those being made the last few years… but I haven’t paid too much attention,” said Frank, watching as Esther lowered the frantic Wilbur down.
“Oh,” said Esther. She looked down apologetically at Wilbur. “I’ve heard of them. But… I haven’t been around the last few years. Sorry.”
Wilbur looked from one to the other, then sighed. “It’s okay.” Then he turned and began walking. Esther and Frank shared a look before they followed.
Was that how he ended up with his ability? And how was Earth’s entertainment finding its way here?
In any case, if he managed to find copies of such comics, then he’d get some for Wilbur. That should make for a nice gift.
With the lull full of disappointment, Frank tried to change the subject. “What other recipes do you know? Besides the one we just had?”
“I can do stamina. And basic regeneration. Some anti-cold as well, but I don’t think we’ll need that last one anytime soon.”
That didn’t sound like a lot. “Is it hard to get more?”
The chef peered around as they got closer to the crowd. “Not as hard when you have the funds. Before I was selected for the Trials, I either couldn't get the recipes or I couldn’t afford the ingredients. Now though, with access to the Hall’s market… it’s going to be different.”
Frank hummed. “The Internet would be really useful for something like that. It was full of recipes, back on Earth.” Then he glanced at Wilbur who was listening intently. “Is there an internet here?”
“What’s that?”
Frank turned to Esther, expecting to see her pointing at something, which would give context to her question, but she was looking right at him.
It took him a moment to process that before answering. “It’s…a technology that became popular in the 90s. Very good for sharing information. All sorts of information.”
“Oh, that makes sense then,” she shrugged, then turned and kept walking. “Come on. I need food.”
Frank turned to Salem, who just shrugged. “Libraries? Guilds? The Agents can answer questions as well, when whatever you’re looking for is not restricted or private. I don’t know of any ‘internets’ though.”
“I think I’ve heard of it. But I don’t think we have any,” said Wilbur despondently.
Worth a shot. I should find a library soon, though. And a notebook.
So much has happened since he had woken up, and Frank really wanted to sit down and begin processing all of it. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
It was as if he had just stepped in a busy convention hall. The hubbub and din of hundreds of people quickly filled their senses. The space was, well, a hall. A large one, closer to being an extra-wide and covered pedestrian street or a promenade. From this angle, two perfectly square buildings flanked the principal thoroughfare and seemed to stretch all the way down along with. Frank had trouble seeing where the “street” ended, but he could see clear divisions that seemed to separate the different sections.
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He remembered seeing the building from outside, and it was most certainly not this big. And the shaded sky that hung above them, visible through the translucent ceiling, had not been purple either.
It had not been visible near the doorway they came through, but not he couldn't stop from looking up every couple of seconds.
Were they even in Tinecea, still?
They arrived at the first section of the Hall, and he guessed that this was some sort of reception area. People were talking quietly between themselves, while further down, the mood was more festive and convivial.
Here and there, clusters of people of all kinds were listening to the Agents in the bronze and blue uniforms, and somehow, the Agents seemed to be the least interesting.
Of all the surrounding people, barely a third were Humans.
No. Not even a third. As Frank walked closer, he noticed that even those he thought Humans were probably not. At least not the kind of Humans he would see back on Earth.
Some were tall and strapping, with fully white eyes. No pupils. Their skin tones varied, but one thing they all had in common was their eyes and their stature. The shortest seemed to be around 7-feet high, while the tallest were almost as tall as some of the…non-human giants.
The only groups who seemed to rival the white-eyed humanoids in size were the Minotaurs and a species of rough and blue-skinned people, with marginally large noses and even larger tusks jutting out of their mouths.
Frank couldn’t look away from them. Was he going to have to compete with these people?
Their arms looked like freaking tree trunks. Chests as wide as Frank was tall. Their beady, ice-blue eyes sent shivers down his back, and the hostility they were projecting toward the white-eyed humanoids was almost tangible.
Across the hall, the glares and body-language the latter were displaying made it clear that the feeling was mutual.
The Minotaurs seemed unaware of the tension, though. Most were either studiously listening to the guides, or they were massively contributing to the din coming from the tavern-like space just beyond the reception area.
There were so many more humanoids that Frank couldn’t identify. Reptilian humanoid, cat and lion-like Beastfolks. A couple of Human-sized people stood apart from the crowd, and Frank found his skin tingling when fully saw them. They had porcelain smooth gray skin and abyss-like eyes that contrasted with their white hair.
Something twinged inside of him when he looked at them, and he didn’t understand why. They seemed to make even the air around them still. And from the empty circle around, he wasn’t the only one they were affecting.
He looked away and back toward the people around him. Masked folk. Stocky and short fellows–which he assumed to be Dwarves. Here and there, he saw some clustered groups of Wilbur-sized humanoids with sharp ears that had grim expressions as they spoke quietly between each other.
Gnomes?
Frank and the others passed by a group of small fox-like Beastfolks that were animatedly talking and laughing with a couple of similarly short humanoid with human faces, horns, and cloven hooves. Satyrs, Frank assumed. A red and black-furred person tinkered with a small device while the Satyr next to them spoke and pointed at different parts of the contraption.
Then Esther paused. Looking ahead, Frank saw someone stepping in front of them, then slowly turning to face them.
A bronze metallic face. Shining blue lights where the eyes should be, and an odd, neutral expression. They were wearing a bronze and blue uniform, same as the Agents Salem had pointed to him earlier.
“Greetings, Champions. It appears that all four of you are traveling together. Would you like to be addressed as a team?”
Esther shrugged. “Sure.”
A deliberate nod was their response. “Very well. In that case, would you like to begin with the onboarding or do you have questions you require answers to first?”
Frank had many. Why exactly had he been brought here? If they had teleported him–or whatever they did to transport him to that forest–couldn’t they put him in some hotel room somewhere? And why were they allowed to be held hostage by the local mayor? And most importantly, where could he find the whereabouts of everyone he knew from his past life?
The group glanced around at each other, and Frank felt the same reserve. There were too many people around.
“I think we could start with the onboarding?” He glanced around and got nods in response. “We’ll ask our questions after. In private, preferably.”
And after that, he will sit down somewhere and process the whole thing with a drink and a meal. A hearty, well-spiced meal.
No more bland, salt-bereft soups. Or those disgusting jelly cups.
The uniformed person interrupted the growing hunger that was taking over Frank’s thoughts. “Very well. Once we reach the conference room, the presentation will be visible through your interface. After which, I will gladly answer any question you might have.”
Frank nodded and waited for the Agent as they seemed to look away for a moment. He glanced at his notifications and when he opened one of them, he was glad to see a card to help him against future charm effects, as the mayor had called them. But he would check the details later. For now, he reduced the notification and looked back up to their guide.
The Agent was still frozen. Was that normal? He glanced toward Esther, and she met his gaze and shrugged.
A second later, the metallic face turned back toward them. “Apologies for the wait. I was securing a room for the presentation. Please follow me. We have a wide selection of private areas with more comfortable seating. The presentation will last for five minutes, but you can view any of the covered sections in more detail if you wish to do so. You’ll be able to go through it at your leisure.”
The group followed the uniformed guide, and after a short moment Frank noticed that the Agent wasn’t walking. They were just gliding over the marble floor. Maybe they were standing on some sort of wheeled contraption. Or magic? Frank couldn’t tell. The top part of the uniform was similar to a clean and well-tailored military uniform that flared out in royal-blue straight skirts that lined perfectly to the ground. To the millimeter even.
They stepped through the milling Champions, toward the building to the right. And when they stepped out of the crowd, he saw doorways.
Multiple entrances lined the wall and in the center of the section, some sort of reception desk with an Agent behind it. Small teams went in and periodically from the entrances, and further down, in the next section, those entrances became taverns and food stands.
They followed the Agent through one of the entrances and as soon as they stepped into the building, the din of the crowd cut off.
The room had blue, richly padded seats that matched the outfit of the guide, arranged in a semicircle with a small coffee table in front of each seat. Teacups and steaming pots were waiting for each one of them.
“Please, have a seat.”
They all did so. As soon as his behind touched the seat, a prompt popped in front of him.
Presentation will begin in 5
4
3
2
1
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Frank put down the empty teacup on the coffee table, then pinched the bridge of his nose.
I need a notebook.
He leaned back against the chair and considered everything he just saw. The presentation was informative. Informative enough for him to get an idea of what’s to come and what to expect.
And as he had assumed, he couldn’t really resign from the Trials.
Contestants like Wilbur or Salem applied to the Trials, or they were handpicked after satisfying the criteria set by the Great Automaton. Which was an entity with god-like powers that managed this event, and it was the same entity that managed the interface he had been interacting with.
Gods were a thing. He had somehow repeatedly pushed the idea toward the back of his mind, but it kept popping up, and he didn’t know what to do with it.
But back to his selection. And why he couldn’t just leave.
He was part of the participants that didn’t have to apply to be included. It’s just that he happened to have been judged worthy and, unfortunately, that also meant that someone had paid for the whole process of giving his soul a new body. Which, as the presentation had been quick to underline, was very expensive and very much a one-time thing.
It had to do with the nature of Seedworlds–something that the presentation didn’t give much details on–but suffice it to say, a death out here, in this Greater Realm, will be final.
Frank now had a massive debt to the Guild of Souls. Technically, every Seedworlder did. And if he wanted to pay it back, he had to take part in the Trials. Otherwise, he would have to foot the bill by himself. Or work it off. Or get a sponsor.
He ruled out the last option immediately. With how the mayor had just tried to strong arm him into signing himself to his faction, Frank wasn’t in a mood to throw his lot with anyone just yet. And if he didn’t want to take part in the Trials, why would they even want to sponsor him?
That left him with three choices.
He popped his Profile menu, which had a few details here and there about him. It had the handful of gold coins he earned so far, his Achievement Points and under that, a nice little paragraph in bold red.
Balance owed to the Guild of Souls: 50,000 gold.* **
*: Payment schedule to be determined at the end of the Champion’s participation in Celestial Trials.
**: Debt will be waived if the champion qualifies past the third Trial.
Frank sighed. The most tempting option was to just get through the third Trial. And it was bound to result in quite a few levels and cards, as well as whatever reward they would get. On top of having fifty-thousand golds waived away. “How hard could that be?” he mumbled to himself.
“Hmm?”
Esther, sitting cross-legged on her seat, glanced toward him as she refilled her cup. Frank shook his head. "Didn't expect to be immediately in debt."
Esther snorted. “I know, right,” she took a slow sip from her cup. “Seven Trials.”
“Or three.”
Esther raised an eyebrow at him and tilted her head. Then, after a moment she narrowed her eyes. “I actually can’t tell if you’re serious or joking. I can as easily see you going for the challenge as well as taking the easy way out. You’ve changed.”
Frank shrugged, and it was at that time that Salem seemed to finish with his presentation, quickly followed by Wilbur.
His eyes lingered on the sum he now owed. If today was of any indication, and if they were waiving away that sort of money, then he had no doubt that getting to the third trial was no easy matter. Frank didn’t know much about the value of gold in this world aside from the price of a shower-laundry combo–which had been significantly less than a gold coin–but he was pretty sure that fifty thousand was no pocket change.
That left two options. One was to reimburse the money immediately, which was not possible, and the last one.
He could go out right now and tell the Agents of the Voice of the Automaton that he didn’t want to participate in the Trials, and work his debt off. He looked up toward Salem. “What’s Storra like?”
It was the name of a continent where he could pay off his debt. He would be trained up, then expected to serve for five years before his debt would be settled.
Salem shuddered, while Willbur leaned forward, a glimmer of interest entering his eyes. Both spoke at once.
“Horrifying–”
“Exciting–”
Both looked at each other, then Salem leaned back and gestured. “You go first. Give them the happy version. I’ll handle the next part.”
Wilbur shimmied forward. “It’s where the Greater Realm connects to the Pathways. Where there’s the most fighting. The strongest and most powerful figures of the realm are there, and sometimes, the gods themselves and the Automaton show up to help push back against all sorts of dangers. Monsters. Invaders. It’s the most dangerous place in the whole Realm.”
Seeing the excitement on the Suinah, Salem pursed his lips. “It’s a death–” he stopped himself for half a second, and rephrased. “It’s an extremely dangerous zone. Sure, there are opportunities, if you’re advanced enough to survive them. But those that go there unwillingly tend to not live long. Goblins, Fae, the damn insects. Void things. Hosts. And everything I’ve listed doesn’t even begin to cover what’s beyond the Pathways.”
The subject of Greater Realm had been broached in the presentation and it had been interesting. Very challenging to visualize and understand, but interesting.
A Great Realm was a massive dimension that contained many other smaller dimensions–known as Smaller Realms–that differed widely in size and nature. Smaller Realms could be the size of a room. Or a stadium. A floating mountain in space. Or a whole damn city. The Greater Realm of Theos–which was managed and protected by the Automaton–was a world. It wasn’t clear if it was a planet or not, but he knew there were wide stretches of oceans. Numerous islands and archipelagos, and a handful of continents.
One of them was Storra. A continent that connected this Greater Realm to the others, through these Pathways. Other Greater Realms that weren’t as friendly or safe.
It really sounds like a deathtrap, Frank thought. If gods had to intervene, then he had no place there. Which left him with only one viable option.
He was taking part in the Trials.
Buckle down, train hard, and pass the third Trial. Those who did triumph over it were debt free, and Frank would be receiving a modest prize that would allow comfortable living in this Greater Realm on top of keeping everything he’d earn and gain over these three Trials.
Frank leaned back against his seat. He started at the intricate decoration of the ceiling while the other three chatted between themselves about food and alcohol. Frank was positive Esther had initiated that conversation.
What a day. He had been dying. It was still fresh in his mind. He could still vividly remember the feeling of tubes in his throat. The pain and burning in his lungs. Suffocating. Straining for breath, never getting enough of it.
Frank shuddered and felt panic rise in his chest. Then a thought whispered in his mind.
What if he was still on that bed? Was this all some illusion as his brain shut down from lack of oxygen?
A buzz filled his ear. He tried to swallow down the feeling of nausea, but his mouth was dry. Frank looked away from the spiraling pattern on the wall as it was making him even more nauseous, and focused on the simple wooden table. His heart hammered in his chest. He focused on the grains of the wood. Its color. Its glossy surface.
Breath in. Breath out.
A few moments later, the panic started to fade away.
He took another deep breath. He grasped both hands together, to prevent them from trembling, and focused on the sensation, resting his elbows over his knees.
It was going to be awhile until he worked through those… issues. How does one cope with dying?
Frank pushed the subject away for now. He wasn’t ready to handle it. Not yet.
“Frank. We’re going to get some food. Want some?” Esther gave him a knowing look and Frank sighed. He stood up. “Sure. A drink will do me a lot of good right now.”
With that, they headed back out toward the main street of the Hall.
As they walked back out into the oddly comforting hubbub, he tried to put his thoughts in order. What was the next step? What did he want?
He could only come up with one actionable plan.
He wanted to just get a drink right now and not think. Not a great option, considering the new whirlwind of information and new—and still forming—questions that were popping in his mind.
But he needed a break.
The first trial was set to start in five days. The announcement of its content will be made public a day before that. So there will be enough time to get some more information, test the new cards, and get used to moving without pain in his joints.
And he could afford a small break.
Think positively. He forced himself to smile. This was a new challenge. And a new chance at life. No heavens or hells, just a whole new world to see and explore. And second chances.
Frank had never believed in afterlives before this day. But he couldn’t imagine a better one than this.
----------------------------------------
“So why are you calling yourself Frank? No one knows who you are here,” Esther spoke as she stole another one of his fries. Frank glanced sideways at Salem and Wilbur, who had gone to a neighboring spot. It was specialized in some dish both of them knew. Some sort of spicy chickpea stew with bread and boiled eggs. Worth trying tomorrow.
“Because it was my grandfather’s name. And once I got into the retirement program, I couldn’t keep using the same name, could I? I thought you’ve done the same.” He lifted his mug–then paused when he saw her expression freeze up for a moment. He coughed and then slowly drank from his mug. What happened to her?
Deep in his stomach, he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
A lifetime ago, he might have been less empathic. Especially with how their last few interactions had gone. She was Esther. She could be a solid and reliable ally in one assignment, then immediately turn into a backstabbing opportunist in the next. For a long time, keeping her dagger away from his own back was only a matter of guaranteeing she got whatever she wanted.
Now though? Having not seen her in over four decades, he noticed the nervousness. The tension in her movements. But she must have seen some concern in his expression, because she laughed.
Yeah. She’s not doing so well either.
“Oh Frank. Franky. Frankathan. No, that sounds weird,” she picked up another fry. “Go ahead. Ask.”
Frank narrowed his eyes at his stolen fry. “Get your own food.” She ate the piece, and slowly chewed while staring back at him.
“How long has it been for you? Since you’ve last seen me?” Frank asked.
She let go of her mug and lowered her hand under the table as she carelessly studied their surroundings. He’d noticed the small shakes in her hands before she hid them.
“Well, if you really want to know” she picked up another bite and Frank resolved to order another portion. “It’s been around six months since Belgium.”
Frank inhaled sharply, and the look of surprise was obvious. She nodded. “Yup. I didn’t retire, if that’s what you’re wondering. Bad deal ended up with the ol’ gal on the bad side of the border. Tried my best to get out, but… long story short, it was either being a snack for wolves, or freezing to death. So I took the click-y way out,” she said while mimicking a discharging gun with her left hand while mouthing a ‘pow’.
Her hand shook. And when she saw him look at it, she gripped it with her right. “Yeah. I’m not at my best right now. But nothing that food, alcohol, and a good night sleep couldn’t fix.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She nodded, and Frank flagged one of the waiters. A couple of minutes later, the fellow came by with two square-ish shot-glasses filled to the brim with a golden-amber liquor.
She looked down at them, then raised her brows at him. “You’re… different. I thought you'd gotten soft, but then I saw what happened back out there with that guard. I saw the anger. But now you’re getting us drinks and you’re being considerate. You’re making jokes. Smiling. What happened?”
Frank picked up his glass, and she raised hers.
“Forty years or so.”
She opened her mouth wide and put the glass down. “Shut the fuck up. No way. No way.”
Frank shrugged and lowered his glass, but he didn’t let it go. “After I finished dealing with the…ROG,” he said, keeping his voice even as he slowly turned the cup. “I still had too much anger. Too much bile. But I met someone. Made some friends. And I was able to retire.”
He exhaled, but it was shaky. He swallowed. “I thought I left it all behind. I… made peace with everything that happened. Because that’s the only option. My family’s gone. I burned down the ROG. My own grave was getting closer and closer. But now we’re here.”
Frank downed his shot, and Esther did the same. The burn helped him stay focused.
“Now we’re here, and my parents…my siblings. Jane. They could all be out there. And so could the Shaw. Ramirez. Stone,” the name slipped out between his teeth like a poisoned cloud, and he had to let go of the glass before it shattered between his fingers.
Jane’s face flashed in his mind, and he slowly exhaled. He ordered another round through the interface and managed a pained smile.
“So, yeah. This whole new life business changes a lot of things. But one step at a time, I guess.”
Esther sighed and shook her head. She picked the glass from the waiter’s platter and raised it when Frank had his.
“To the wisdom of the elderly.”
Frank mock-glared at her, then he sighed as he raised his cup. “To new chances.”
“To greatness,” she said, and her eyes shone. Then with a maniacal smile, she added. “And conquering a new world.”
Frank tapped his glass against hers without commenting. No need to feed the flame.
The liquor had been on par with the best Frank had ever tasted in his life. He watched her get back to unashamedly scarfing down his food, then she had the gall to try to help herself to his other drink. He swatted her hand away, just as Wilbur and Salem got back.
They settled themselves around the table as Frank told them about the Wild Climbers, then he turned and asked Esther. “What happened to you? When you got here, I mean. They said you had to be carried in when they found you.”
She chewed his food, eyes on a swivel, watching the surrounding gathering. “Woke up in a graveyard. Next thing I know, corpses were getting out of the ground. Literally pissed myself.”
“Huh.” Frank grabbed some fries and a bite from his roasted veggies then added ‘zombies’ to his list of worries.
Salem winced and shook his head. “I’m glad I’m just a cook. Initiation tests are nasty.”
Wilbur nodded. “It’s only for Seedworlders.”
Esther drank deep from her mug before glancing around. “Speaking of our world… I wonder how many others are around?”
Frank glanced around the crowd, singling out the Humans he could see. He had a small lead, about how he could ask about his family. And he knew some enemies might be around as well. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to track either from within the Hall.
The Guild of Souls didn’t have an office within the Hall itself. For some reason. It’s not as if a bunch of barely resuscitated Champions needed to hear from their long-lost loved ones or learn of their whereabouts or anything. So he’d need to find one outside. Where Lumovik and Tasos could come after him. Again.
“Who pissed in his oats?”
Frank glanced up to find Salem staring at him while Esther gave him a knowing look. He quickly relaxed his expression and breathed deep.
His thoughts cleared.. But the ember that was lit did not fade away. And now that he had a team, there was no reason to lie to them. “I realize that some old enemies might be around. And that we,” he said, nodding toward Esther, “should probably find them before they find us.”
Salem raised an eyebrow and Wilbur leaned forward. “What kind?”
Esther looked at Frank and shrugged–which Frank interpreted as she had too many to categorize. “The kind that will try to harm us if they know we’re around. Or maybe they’ll try going after the people we know. Like they did before.”
Frank went to grab a fry from the second bowl he ordered and came up empty. His eyes slowly went up to find Esther frozen mid-bite, with a curly golden fry between her fingers.