The sun had already set by the time Artyom left Aspa’s shop. With the tailor’s prices and clientele she usually served, the boutique was located unsurprisingly close to the Count’s manor and the walk there was short.

A tall metal fence that circumnavigated a perfect circle some distance away from the mansion itself marked the boundary of the Count’s personal demesne. Some distance past it, at the front of the mansion’s entrance, stood a crowd of well-dressed men and women enjoying drinks and each other’s company. The party was already in full swing it seemed, which also explained the lack of anyone else lining up to get through the checkpoint through the gate.

However there was one other person present: a lone security guard. His clothes were modeled after a generic soldier’s uniform but with emphasis on the coattails, cuffs, and collar, and enough so that they would only be a hindrance in a fight. His carefree demeanor and mild amount of pudge hinted at the requirements for his job.

Artyom scoffed at the lax security for such a high-class gathering, but then swallowed his unsaid words when he looked at the gate itself.

Of course, it was enchanted. Not with any sort of deadly defense mechanism or physical strengthening, but instead an alarm system; one of the most intricate alarm systems Artyom had seen. From a quick magical probe, Artyom could tell it would catch anyone trying to jump over, dig under, or break through it.

The sensors curved at a steady angle, likely making its working area a sphere that completely engulfed the manor and made taking advantage of any sort of “maximum height” a moot point. What’s more, the magic flowed through the gate in a sort of current, and disturbing its flow would be perceptible to anyone monitoring the system.

Could Artyom disarm or reprogram the fence? Maybe, but enchantments weren’t his magical specialty, and the setup was complicated enough that it might take him hours to do.

Hours he didn’t have.

So instead, he opted for his original plan.

“Hello sir, may I please see your invitation?” asked the guard. On closer inspection, Artyom could see he had big round eyes and flowing brown hair in a bowl cut. His bushy mustache and potato-shaped nose worked in tandem to hide the movement of his mouth, such that only billowing fuzz could be seen whenever the guard spoke.

Artyom filled his fair share of espionage-based roles, and many of them required some level of acting, usually in the realm of pretending like you belonged or that you were too good to be questioned. He’d played the lead villain in his school’s rendition of the Wizard of Oz over a decade ago, but that experience had stuck with him. And once more, he was about to get wicked.

“Invitation? My assistant would normally take care of such trivialities, but I had to fire him last week for incompetence, so who knows where it is?” said Artyom, reprising his role as a rich, arrogant jackass. “Either way, I expect to be welcomed by Cabbafor with open arms, so where is my retinue?”

“Sir, you need an invitation to enter. And his proper title is Count Cabbafor,” said the guard, not bothering to hide his frustration towards Artyom’s misuse of title.

“When you’re in the same social strata as we are, you tend to refer to your peers as such, not that you would understand.”

“Whether that be the case, sir, I can’t let you through unless you have an invitation. I’m sure the Count would have provided you with one if what you say about your strata is true.”

“Not going to bend over at the first sign of resistance? He’s definitely used to this kind of thing, poor guy,” thought Artyom to himself. “But I wonder if he’s used to handling aura?”

The guard flinched as the man from Earth channeled magic through the lens of his emotions; arrogance, annoyance, and superiority pressed down on the mustached man who barely held his ground.

“Listen, Mike,” Artyom began.

“I-it’s Cress.”

“Listen Guess, I’ve been on the road for days and my staff has been through hell to get me here. How do you think they’ll react when I head back and tell them that everything they’ve been through was for nothing and their promised vacation is canceled because I got turned away?”

“Well sir, I’m sure if you simply send another message from your residence…”

“They’ll talk to their friends, who work for other Lords and Ladies, and tell them exactly what happened. It’s not going to be about me, no. I’ve taken great care of them and I intend on telling them the truth. That the illustrious Count Cabbafor thinks he’s too good to meet with a dignitary who has traveled for weeks just to attend his party!”

“Well sir, I mean, you could always take the teleportation crystal back…”

“Oh, teleportation crystal?!” Wait, teleportation crystals? That’s a thing? “Have you ever stopped to consider that not everyone is able to use them? That a foreign dignitary would deign to hire people of such disabilities? Why would I come by carriage if not for their sake!”

“Disabilities? Only animals not claimed as a familiar are unable to use the portal,” replied Cress, suspicion mounting in his voice.

“Yes, disabilities,” replied Artyom, his eyes burning with ire and indignation and the resulting aura pushing the guard a step back. “Poor old Suzie is half blind in both of her eyes and was born without taste buds, and needs a guide dog to find her way around. She doesn’t have the luxury of making this animal her ‘familiar’.”

“I can sympathize with your Suzie, my aunt has trouble seeing herself, but taste? What does that have to do with…”

“The dog tastes her food for her! I thought you of all people would understand because of your aunt, but I stand corrected.”

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“Well, uh, I deeply apologize, sir. B-but an invitation is still needed…”

“Well in that case, I’ll have to head back home and tell everyone what happened. That good old ableist Cabbafor sees people with disabilities beneath him, and sent poor old Suzie on a round trip because he forgot about his invitation. What will all of the other Lords and Ladies back home think of him then? The innumerable trade deals ready to be made tonight will all be canceled after witnessing his true character. The town will dry up as imports stop coming in and everybody stops buying his tainted goods. The masses will rebel, call for Cabbafor’s head on a pike!”

“By the Goddess, I-I don’t mean for anything like that to happen!”

“Well that’s not all, Pablo. Cabbafor isn’t stupid. He’ll investigate and look for where these stories of him started, how the truth leaked out. He’ll trace the chain of words all the way back up to the source and do you know what he’ll find?” And dramatic pause… “This little conversation. With. You.” He poked Cress in the chest on the last three words for emphasis.

“So what will it be, Brittney? Are you going to tell Mr. Cabbafor that he has a guest, or are you going to bring ruin and damnation to your town?”

Cress stared at Artyom for a good few seconds, completely slack-jawed. “Y-you’re… I’ve heard of you.”

“You have now, have you?” He’d better not say something cliched like that I’m a wanted man or something, I haven’t been in this world long enough to make any kind of a name for myself. But I’d better still play along. “Well it’s good to finally be recognized!”

“T-that’s right, sir! You must be the T-Teccan dignitary! There’s word from Trellisia that you passed through and ate enough to fill twenty men!”

I ran directly from there, and there wasn’t anyone else I passed on the road. How did all of that already reach here?

“Please, no need to use your super laser piss to take your ire out on me, I’ll open the gate immediately!” Cress exclaimed before running back to the guard booth.

“Super laser what?!”

After several more seconds, the gates began to open.

“Please enjoy yourself at Count Cabbafor’s soiree,” said Cress from the safety of the booth.

“Uh yeah, of course,” said Artyom with an unsure expression as he quickly made his way through the gate.

The walk to the manor proper was thankfully quick. As he forgot those strange last words of the gate guard, Artyom turned his attention back to why he was actually here. The chosen hero, the kid from Earth who was in over his head in this misleadingly innocent world, was somewhere within these walls. Artyom would finally get the chance to meet him face to face, and bring him somewhere safe.

His heart began to race as that sole thought filled his mind, making the smell that hit him as he entered the courtyard shock him back to his senses. He knew what it was, but hadn’t encountered it even once while in this world, at least until now: alcohol.

Around him, well-dressed socialites held crystal vessels that sparkled like this world’s morning sky, yet didn’t hold the bubbly liquid within. Beer, wine, and other liquors filled the glasses the partygoers delicately sipped from as they shared practiced laughs and demure conversation.

“Well now, it seems we have a latecomer in our midst!” exclaimed one of the men with a light chuckle. He wore a suit very similar to the first one Aspa showed Artyom, along with a neck ruffle that was presently colored purple. “I do hope you’ve had the chance to sample some of these wines, the grapes are quite local too, being from Trellisia.”

Artyom turned towards the man while still walking and gave a quick reply, “I prefer cherry.”

“Stopped by Freeacres then, have you? Top tier sparkle, but not a single brewer of a high enough level to make wine, what a waste! But what could be expected from such a rural group.”

Something about the statement rubbed Artyom the wrong way. He felt a single muscle in his face twitch, and opened his mouth to say something. Before he could speak however, he was interrupted by another guest.

“Quite a brash statement to make about them, given the rumors of some sort of tragedy,” said a woman wearing an elegant sky-blue gown. “Though it’s a relief the hero is around to put a stop to that sort of thing.”

Artyom closed his mouth and tuned into the conversation.

“Of course, how insensitive of me, perhaps such an ill-considered statement was simply my own mourning of their now lost potential? But the hero is present at this very party, is he not?” said the same man. “Perhaps I could see if he would be interested in guarding my estates.”

“I would certainly hope you intend to share. Many of my serfs have expressed worry about these rumors even before what we’ve heard about Freeacres, and I would like to put them at ease.”

“Worry not, many of us lords and ladies planned to ask the hero together. He appears quite aloof when presented with business, so such an approach might prove more successful, as well as equally beneficial for all of us.”

“Aloof is preferable to the cold air the rest of his party puts up, save for their rogue. Perhaps we could talk to her? But I haven’t seen any of them in quite some time…”

Artyom figured he’d heard enough and made his way into the mansion proper. Bright magical lights on the ceiling lit up the hallways and corridors just as well as incandescent bulbs from Earth, making every detail of the dark wooden flooring and maroon carpet stand out. The walls were made of white plaster, but little of it could be seen behind the many paintings and art pieces on display. Oil, water color, and even several marble busts sitting on pedestals filled most of Artyom’s vision to the point he wondered how none of the drunk guests had accidentally knocked one over yet.

The man from Earth started his search in the main hall just past the foyer. While he didn’t know what the hero actually looked like, he figured it wouldn’t be hard to spot a normal kid from back home in a room full of stuffy nobles.

The hall held a massive crowd, but it only took five minutes for Artyom to walk past everyone there and rule them out as the hero. A few tried to make conversation about who he was or his apparent show of faith, but Artyom changed the subject to the hero. However, none of them knew where the hero actually was.

Similar results followed for the rest of the first floor as Artyom entered and cleared each one methodically. Frustration and fear were mounting in equal parts. Why was it taking so long, and what if the hero had already left?

Artyom eventually sat down on a cushioned bench in one of the hallways to gather his thoughts. Worst case scenario, he’d just have to start his search over tomorrow, but it should be easier than in the beginning since he was already so close.

While pondering whether to ask any of the other partygoers, Artyom’s eyes wandered over to one of the stairs that led to the second storey. A red velvet rope was hung across it, politely barring entry to anyone else. But what was most notable was the pair coming down from the second floor and stepping over the rope, giggling all the while trying to act sneaky.

Artyom quickly got up and made his way to the stairwell. The pair didn’t look flushed, so that crossed out any sort of hanky panky. He had a good idea what it actually was.

Once he was on the second floor, it didn’t take long for the man from Earth to follow a very boisterous voice to a sizable room. Inside was a young man about ten years younger than him wearing a suit he was obviously uncomfortable in. Despite that, he spoke with excitement as he regaled the small gathering of nobles with a story of some kind of battle.

“The thing was freaking huge! It had these bulging red eyes and really sharp teeth, and his breath was awful! But it was still no match for me, and I turned that thing into chop suey!”

“Chop… sewy?” asked one of the nobles.

“Uh, it’s a kind of food, I don’t remember what’s in it though.”

Artyom felt the last vestiges of rage and anxiety in him melt away. The last two days had been a lot, but his goal was literally in sight. Time to put his fears to rest and get to his next mission.