Much could be said of the black dragon. Capable, persistent, proactive in achieving his goals; traits that serve a lead very well. For Benjamin, however, these aspects were coming back to bite him in the ass. Those facets of personality were intended for a character that would be completely stripped of power, not this.

Kinsoriel was always written as being wary of his own safety, which would then encompass those he found himself with. He wasn’t there yet and he wouldn’t be for a while. This wouldn’t be a problem if he was made to be a human. But no, we couldn’t have that. Even if Benjamin had value to the dragon, his sheer resilience would taint his view of dangers. Smacking into a tree would be a mild headache to him, while it would spell certain doom for Benjamin.

Three near misses and a terrible chill from that flight had him shivering as he went. He’d only just gotten this life, and he had already come so close to death. Even with his assurances, being around the dragon would be hazardous to his health. He needed more between him and an early grave, sooner than later.

After an hour of trudging along, the ex-Author finally saw it. Sprawling acres of farmland dotted with quaint little cottages here and there. The walls, tall as two houses stacked on one another and about half as thick. The beautiful temple, made of polished stone and accented with precious metals. The humongous forge, billowing with the clouds of production. And the guildhall, fortified so heavily it looked more like a gigantic castle. This was Ferroes, one of the larger cities on this continent.

Seeing all these grand structures as someone living in this world was so… boring. Maybe it shouldn’t have come across as such a letdown, but he couldn’t help it. Cities were one of the few things he continued to know all about. It was hard to get excited about something he knew every little detail about, even from his more grounded perspective.

He wasn’t here to be awed by his own creation though. No, he was here for a map. A map, and some supplies. The only thing he had was his cloak, which now had a grease stain thanks to yesterday's meal. That alone wouldn’t cut it, and with how volatile his protagonist is, it could be some time before he can come to another town. Better make the best of it while he has the chance.

He walked towards the south gate, stationed by a couple of guards. One seemed to be giving directions to a group of adventurers, facing him as he closed the distance.

“-and that’ll be where you can find it. Yeah, no problem, just be careful.” The unoccupied guard raised an open palm forcefully as Ben approached. “Halt! Please wait until we can assist you.” With a slightly peeved look, Benjamin nodded, crossing his arms. After the colorful group passed him, the guard that gave them directions gestured that he should come closer.

“What business do you have in Ferroes, sir?” The guard’s stance was rigid and unmoving as he waited for a response.

“I’m here to get supplies for my journey.”

With a quick glance over at his partner, the guard loosened up a bit and moved aside. “Alright. Enjoy your time in Ferroes, and have a safe trek when you are done.”

Thanking him, Benjamin then went through the gateway. The inside of the city was clean and filled with decorations of many kinds. Little engravings in some of the walls, well-trimmed trees, tasteful stuff. Admiring his own handiwork wasn’t important at the moment, so he continued.

Eventually, he made his way into the market square. It was your typical fare. People of all shapes and sizes milled about, enough to give a constant feeling of activity, but not enough to feel crowded.

He knew straight away where general shops would be, along with the various equipment vendors. The thought of having some armor was a tantalizing one, but the necessities would come first. With a ring, Benjamin opened the door to the shop, greeting the owner with a wave.

“Welcome, welcome!” said the stocky man as he approached, “Tell me, how may I help you?!”

“Do you sell maps of the Herotiun area?” Benjamin had just barely said those words before the owner bolted back to a corner of the shop. He returned shortly after, unfurling the map with a wiggle. Speedy service indeed.

“Premium quality parchment, inked from the press of master cartographers.” The owner waved his hand in front of the map for extra style. “A wonderful map for a wonderful customer, yes?” He looked to the ex-Author with a miserly smile.

Not one to fall for mercantile pizazz, Benjamin inspected the map for himself. The illustrations did their jobs well enough, but something seemed off about it.

“May I see it a bit closer?” He asked of the owner.

“But of course!” The thick hands of the owner gave the map to Benjamin. “Please, take your time!”

Looking over it personally, the material was indeed of a high quality. But as his eyes looked over it, he realized that it wouldn’t matter. This map was written in gibberish! Odd-looking lines and scribbles in place of what would normally be the names of cities and such.

“Excuse me,” Benjamin said while still looking at the map, “but do you have one in English?”

“English?” Asked the owner confusedly as he went back to the corner he kept his maps in. Ben looked up briefly, seeing the blur of a man go through each and every copy he had. He eventually gave up, coming back empty-handed.

“My dearest apologies, but I don’t have any maps in ‘English’.” He clasped his hands together and looked at Ben with hopeful eyes. “You seem fluent enough in Dumarin, so perhaps that one will suffice?”

Dumarin? That sounded like it had roots in the god Dumarn. He was this world’s god of self-improvement, change, langu- No… he didn’t, did he? He pulled out the scrap of paper he scrawled on and compared it to the map. Sure enough, he had made up another language! From the apparent lack of issues with talking, he didn’t even go all the way, and he just made the written form look strange for the sake of it. While thankful for that instance of laziness, he chose to remember the bloody mythos over his own languages! He could pull his hair out if he wasn’t preoccupied with the owner, who seemed to notice his expressions.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Is everything alright?” asked the owner, who had begun tapping his fingers against each other. Since the truth would just get him laughed at, Benjamin came up with something on the spot. “Yeah, sorry. I was just born with… dyslexia.”

The shopkeep raised a brow. “Diss-lex-ea?” he sounded out, having likely never heard of such a thing.

Before he could regret using a term foreign to this setting, he continued. “It means I have a harder time reading unless it’s in English.” He rolled the map back up and smiled nervously. “I’ll take it.”

While he still had a suspicious look on his wide face, the owner seemed more than happy to make a sale than ask any more questions. “Wonderful!” He directed him to approach the counter as he went behind it. “Apologies if I pried a bit much, I simply like to know the needs of my customers. That map will be ten coppers.”

Benjamin reflexively tried to bring the currency into existence, his eyes going wide as his hand was left empty. There weren’t any pockets or pouches he could reach into either. Just as he had thought without realizing it earlier, the only thing he had was his cloak. He was flat broke.

With an even more awkward smile than before, Benjamin fessed up. “So, I uh, don’t have any money…”

The owner’s face fell from greedy glee to an unamused frown fast enough to jiggle his jowls. “If you’re looking for charity, go bug the temple.” He pointed a sausage-like finger at the door. “Get out of my store.”

Ben didn’t even try to say anything in his defense, knowing full well there was nothing he could say. As he exited with his head hung low, he could hear the owner mumbling under his breath about ‘damn bums’.

Intentional or not, the owner did end up giving Benjamin some good advice. The temple would be his best bet to find a handout. After shaking the shameful interaction out of his mind, he started walking towards the gleaming building.

Activity on the street calmed more the closer he got. Hustle and bustle had turned to quiet reverence by the time he reached the steps. Approaching the ornate doors, Benjamin felt oddly apprehensive. It was silly of him to feel such a thing of course; the gods in this setting were more like proxies than actual characters. Just one of many ways for him to interact semi-directly as he built the groundwork for everything else. They couldn’t do anything to him, they were all essentially lifeless without his input. Even still, the image of a god setting their sights on him for any reason was one he would rather not imagine.

Finally touching the handle, he pushed open the door. His eyes were assaulted by the lavish interior instantly. Gemstones dotted any surface they could. The decor was polished to near blemishless sheens. Everything from the floors to the ceiling exuded a feeling of overindulgence. Even knowing all about this place, the sheer excess still almost hurt to look at.

In stark contrast, the statues made to depict the gods were tame and tasteful. They were each made up of limestone and marble, sculpted with skill and care.

There were seven of them, corresponding to each of the gods. Macab, patron of death and what comes after. Herotia, goddess of heroism and fortune. Valorian, your typical warrior guy with huge muscles. Dumarn, the always-shifting god of change and self-improvement. Isdri, life giver and nature’s protector. Wex, Kinsoriel’s favored god who presided over knowledge and night. And finally the mysterious head deity, Fayten, lord of time and fate.

Unlike the others, Fayten’s physical appearance was a complete mystery, leading to the statue looking like a faceless cloaked figure. Benjamin knew what he looked like, but not because he had his meta-knowledge on this subject; Fayten was Benjamin. To be more precise, Fayten was Benjamin’s in-world persona, allowing him to get more personal than the proxy nature of the other gods.

Before he could continue to think on his pantheon, a voice broke his focus. “Ah, welcome my son!” Looking over where the elderly voice had come from, he saw a priest clothed in garish robes. The priest smiled warmly as he looked the ex-Author once over, faltering a bit once he noticed the grease stain on his cloak. “What brings you to our glorious place of worship today, young one?”

Benjamin gave a little bow of the head before speaking. “Greetings. I hope it’s not too much to ask, but I am in need of supplies for my journey.” Benjamin noticed a mild look of disgust creep up the priest’s face at his request.

“I’m sorry my son, but we do not have the resources to help just anyone that comes to our door.” Even as the priest said this, the king’s ransom that was this temple was still in view. So it was one of those churches. Getting anything at all would be like pulling teeth if he continued like this, he needed to change his approach. Upon realizing that he wasn’t talking with Kinsoriel, he knew what to do.

“I understand that kindly priest, but I am especially needy.” He clasped his eyes together and made the most innocent face he could muster. “I’m on a holy pilgrimage to every temple of note in this land. Yours is first of course.” Oh yeah, lies were on the table here.

The priest squinted as heard those words. “A pilgrimage?” He asked as he rubbed at the greying whiskers on his chin. “Ah! Well, why didn’t you say so earlier my son?” With a more genuine-looking smile, he raised a finger. “Give me just a moment. I will go get one of the packs we prepare for such occasions.”

Benjamin nodded and waited as the elderly man shuffled off to the back. Left by himself, his thoughts drifted once again to the gods. It was worth noting that the statues in this church were of human interpretation. Or if you were a dragon, they were heretical and vain portrayals of their gods. Each of the statues depicted their respective god in the human image. In truth, nobody who knew what they had truly looked like was still alive. This point was one of many that was crucial for creating the conflict surrounding his story.

Too bad knowing any of this did little to help him now. Each second he spent here made the difference between practical information and context-building fluff more apparent.

The priest soon returned, carrying a leather sack with him. Taking up half the space on the back was an emblem representing the Ferroes temple. “Here we are my son, enough hardtack to see your journey through.” Benjamin grimaced as the priest opened it, revealing the bounty of teeth-shattering food.

“There is also a pamphlet that shows locations endorsed by our clergy.” He dug it out of the sack, showing the mini three-fold pamphlet. Describing it as non-informing would be mincing words. It looked more like something they would give to children, using bright colors and only showing locations as big stars. You couldn’t see any routes or actual geography with the thing, and Benjamin still couldn’t read one bit of it. At least it had the decency to point out what must have been a ‘YOU ARE HERE’ with a big red arrow and an X.

“Thanks, Pastor,” Benjamin said as he took the disappointing provisions, “I appreciate these gifts.”

The priest bowed respectfully. “Of course! We love to give back to devout souls like yourself.” As he reciprocated the gesture and started to leave, the priest called one final thing to him. “You may want to look into putting out an escort request, only Fayten knows what’s out there!” At that moment in time, Fayten most certainly did not.

With the pitiful supplies he had managed to scrounge up, Benjamin made his way out of the city. He hoped that the grumpy dragon wouldn’t have too big of a fit when he saw what he had gotten. Something was better than nothing, but this was really stretching it.

Nibbling on the edible rock that was hard tack, he retraced his steps. After an hour, he wasn’t far. As he neared his destination, he smelled something very disconcerting. Burning hair and flesh.