“I’m afraid there is no help for it,” Mohrdrand admitted late in the afternoon, having poured over several volumes from his library. “You either have one, or you don’t. It’s a thing for the gods, not for humble workers in magic such as I.”

“I see,” Jack frowned.

“Do you, I wonder?” the old man raised an eyebrow. “Jackson Grenell,” he leaned forward, his voice growing serious. “You wield a mythic grade weapon and have vanquished monsters of some substantial rank. I think it safe to say at this juncture that you are most assuredly gifted, and will do perfectly fine without a crystal.”

“But—”

“She is wrong every twenty or so years,” the old man laughed. “Although you’ll have a devil of a time getting her to admit it.

“Sitting here with you,” he went on. “I can just see your status bars, as we are on friendly terms and wearing these rings. They are faint, granted, and health and mana only. I see no status effects, no alignment, no guild affiliation, nor your name, class, nor species. But I suppose that should be enough. Button?”

She still wasn’t happy at being so addressed, but she’d apparently decided to put up with it, at least for the time being. “I see the same,” she announced. “Although his health and mana bars are clear and bright for me. And during the fight, I was able to see status and affect modifiers.”

“As they should be for you,” the old man nodded. “Given your connection.”

“And you, Jack?” he asked, ignoring the look she shot him.

“Nothing,” Jack told him after a short span of staring at him through narrowed eyes. “Nothing over either of you.”

“Hmm. Is this normal on your world?”

“Mine or the one I’m supposed to be going to?” Jack wondered.

“Yours first, I believe,” the old man said.

“Same as I’m seeing now,” Jack admitted. “Nothing.”

“Wait,” the wizard straightened in his seat. “Are you telling me that, on your world, no one has status bars or identifiers?”

“Pretty much. We also don’t have ‘gifted’ people as you understand them. At least as far as I’ve ever heard.”

“Then how do you determine friend from foe? Monster from farm animal?”

“I’m told,” Jack grinned. “That more people are killed by cows every year than by sharks.” when that response garnered only confused stares, he clarified. “We pretty much have to guess.”

“Guess?” Mohrdrand gaped.

“Well,” he clarified. “Guess based on observation and experience. It does lead to trouble. We’re forced to judge people by their actions. Or by cues in body language. Sometimes by affiliation. It gets kind of muddy, and frequently there are issues caused by misidentification, or by basing decisions on the wrong cues or just bad information.”

“I should imagine,” the old man shook his head. “How do you manage? I mean, how do you know who to be cautious of and who cannot fight?”

That drew a burst of laughter. “Friend Mohrdrand,” he said. “On Earth, you have to be cautious of everything, and everything fights. Even a mouse will take a chunk out of you if it’s cornered.”

“Well, of course,” the old man agreed. “But a mouse does not rank up and become more dangerous. The ungifted will fight if cornered, but they’re awful at it and cannot use weapons or armor stronger than rank zero. This renders them mostly harmless to the gifted. Even low ranking gifted.

“And the world you are journeying to?” he ventured then.

“A bit more like here,” Jack said. “But not exactly. First off, any sort of identification requires a learned skill. Often, several skills. And you have to be actively using them to get any sort of information. Otherwise, there’s no difference at all between active characters and NPC— er, ungifted.

“Even then, from a distance,” he went on uncomfortably. “It’s like home. Nothing, even with skills. As you get closer, though, and depending on the situation and which skills you’ve learned, some designators begin to appear. General at first, but more specific the nearer you get. A monster, for instance. At range, the first thing you’ll see is the species. A troll, say. Of course, by then, if you know what a troll looks like, you’ll already know, so it’s kind of useless.

“Closer in, you’ll get the level. That’s like your ranks. That is, if your own level and skill modifier is high enough. If it’s too low, all you’ll see is a skull. That generally means it's one of two flavors of get the hell away, it’s too powerful for you.

“Once you’re really close, and with the proper skillset, you might see weaknesses, strengths, and specials. But that takes a lot more training —like your appraisal skill— and isn’t available until you’ve leveled up a ways.”

“Indeed,” the wizard was stroking his beard now, leaning in.

“You won’t see enemy life bars or health indicators until you enter combat,” Jack finished. "There’s a point, though, when you just stop messing with it. After you’ve gotten familiar enough with who and what you’re going to be up against, you just know. So you use the concentration you’d ordinarily spend on the identification skills and apply it to fighting."

“I see,” the wizard said after a bit. “And friends?”

Jack gave it some thought. “Party members, you’ll see names, life and mana bars. But that’s it. Any other information you have access to will be in men— er... visible by other means.”

Mohrdrand narrowed his eyes, a hint of suspicion edging his face. “But nothing like the life crystals?”

Jack gave it some thought. “Monsters drop cores,” he said tentatively. “I think that’s the closest it gets.”

“Monsters, but not people?”

“Right.”

“Indeed.”

At some point during their discussions, an old woman let herself in the front door, quietly passing them and vanishing into the depths of the building where Tiarraluna had previously ventured. Shortly thereafter, the aromas of cooking began to fill the structure, setting mouths to watering. It grew more difficult for the old wizard’s guests to concentrate on the topics at hand.

Eventually, Mohrdrand called a halt to the discussion and they adjourned to the dining room, a brightly lighted venue with brightly glowing lamps set in ornate sconces arranged along the walls. Dinner was served by the still silent old woman, who vanished into what was undoubtedly the kitchen while they ate, and emerged only to clean the table.

They were back in the previous room, a fire now lit in the hearth, when she passed them on her way out. She’d uttered not a single sound the entire time she’d been there. The wizard offered no explanation, and Jack didn’t inquire.

The topic for the remainder of the evening fluctuated between Jack’s descriptions of his true destination insofar as he could extrapolate from the game, and questions regarding how he might cope in the world in which he currently found himself. The old wizard tried various trinkets in an effort to allow Jack to see status indicators and life crystals. None worked. He tried various spells. None of them worked either.

Eventually, the effort was curtailed in favor of a night’s sleep. Jack was shown to a small, sparsely decorated cubby. Tiarraluna apparently had her own room, arguing that she was a more regular guest, or had been so at some point in the past.

Jack lay awake for a long time, gazing at the ceiling, his head resting on one forearm as he stared up into the darkness. He was beginning to chafe at the delay of his journey. In his opinion, the past several hours had been a complete waste of time. Mohrdrand didn’t really need to know about Tarr, and he didn’t, he thought, need to be able to see crystals or stats. His plans involved avoiding fights on this side if possible. Failing that, knowing how high the levels of any opponents were was pointless, as he’d have to fight them anyway. That was the way unavoidable fights were. Unavoidable.

The big question, though, hadn’t been addressed at all. What was going on around here that had everybody afraid, and the guard missing? True, it wasn’t really any of his business. These weren’t the people he was supposed to protect. Of course, that hadn’t ever stopped him in the past, had it? And he knew in the back of his mind that it wouldn’t stop him now, if he decided that something had to be done.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Somewhere during these contemplations, sleep took him.

Breakfast was already on the table when he rejoined the others early the next morning. There was no sign of the old woman. Perhaps Tiarraluna had prepared it. The meal certainly lacked some of the complexity and flair of the previous evening’s endeavor. Simple cereal cakes and oatmeal. Substantial looking, but rather bland. However, and this made up for all the rest, the old man had coffee! and sugar.

“Where do I go from here?” Jack asked the old wizard as he was savoring his second cup. He wouldn’t ask about the local situation. The subject had been conspicuously avoided by his hosts up until now, and he figured his asking would only cause friction. He’d find out somehow once he left the wizard’s home.

“The capitol,” the wizard said around a thick chunk of cereal cake liberally smeared with butter. “I have it on good authority that the king has access to an exit portal. The one that he, himself, was supposed to use to return to his home before he decided to remain and rule Tandera.

"I’m no expert on portal dynamics, so I’m not sure it will help. It may be possible to select a destination, or it may simply return you to your world. It’s a chance, at least, and the best I can think of.”

That made sense. “Fine. How far is it?”

A shrug. “As the calta flies, around three thousand lenn.”

Jack narrowed an eye as a stab of pain shot through his forehead. He looked down to the ring. It seemed to be having trouble converting the term to a concept he could understand. “Lenn?”

“Ah,” the old wizard nodded. “Ah, a lenn is a measure of distance. Let’s see... Ah, this house is slightly more than two-thirds of one lenn from the city gate by the way you traveled.”

Jack nodded. If he had his distances right, they were about a mile in. Which put a lenn at around a mile and a half. So, forty-five hundred miles. Whoof! “And what sort of terrain am I looking at between here and there?”

“At least two mountain ranges,” the old wizard ticked off on his fingers. “The Sessik plain, which is more a desert, assuming you don’t go around and add another four hundred miles to your—”

"Hold it,” Jack interrupted. “Did you just say miles?”

"Did I say what?” the old man asked. “No, I said miles.”

Jack frowned and gave the ring another scowl. So, once he learned a word, it would add it to his dictionary. Good to know.

“In any case,” the wizard went on, “there are marshlands to the south that you’ll want to avoid if you can.”

“So,” Jack mused. “It’s gonna take me awhile.”

“In all probability,” the old man agreed.

“Hey,” Jack snapped his fingers. “You’re a high ranking wizard, right? Can’t you guys teleport or something? Wizards can always teleport to wherever they want, or so I’ve always heard.”

Mohrdrand frowned, quirking a lip. “Wherever do you learn these supposed facts?” he wondered.

“So you can’t?”

A shrug. “Not exactly,” the old man admitted. “No such spell or magic exists here. There is a spell which allows us to... travel around time... but the mana requirements are massive, and while the distance traveled is certainly less, the journey only seems instantaneous from the outside.”

“So, you can’t just take my hand and sling us to the capital,” it wasn’t really a question.

Mohrdrand let go a bark of laughter. “I would do well to sling myself to the capital in less than a couple of weeks,” he said. “It would require many castings, much travail, and even using the most powerful potions I possess more rapidly than is remotely safe, enough mana that I would be a year fully recovering.” he paused for the magnitude of the task to take hold. “And that would be proceeding on my own. I wouldn’t dare to contemplate dragging another along with me.”

“So,” Jack frowned. “I’m walking or riding. Any estimates?”

“Depending on mode of travel and route,” the old wizard contemplated. “Close enough to a year as doesn’t matter. If you proceed directly there, which you will not be able to do.”

“Oh?” Jack straightened in his seat. “And why not?”

The old man rocked back and raised his eyebrows. He looked to Tiarraluna, and back to Jack. “How would you go about it?” he asked, his voice serious. “Is it common for your people to just take off walking on long journeys without even a proper shirt to wear, let alone provisions of any sort?”

Oh, yeah. Jack thought, his face reddening.

“I may have an old tunic that will go over your shoulders,” the old man postulated. “Although it would be quite snug. Nor is it armored in any way.”

“There is also the inconvenience of your not speaking Tandrian,” Tiarraluna pointed out. “You will be unable to communicate with the citizenry. Not to ask directions, nor to purchase food or lodging.”

“Which you would not be able to pay for in any case,” Mohrdrand took up the warning.

Right. Money. “I don’t suppose this will help,” he fished around in his satchel and withdrew the gold coins the teufeljaegers had dropped.

The old man leaned forward and took a few of the coins, examining them closely before handing them back. “I’m afraid not,” he shook his head. “They appear to be of a much higher gold content than the local currency, but I doubt you’ll find anyone willing to take them as payment.”

“So what you’re not quite telling me,” Jack frowned, shoving the coins back into the satchel. “Is that I’m gonna need to find a job.”

“Not precisely,” the wizard stroked at his beard. “Mokkelton isn’t exactly the sort of place someone of your... attributes is likely to find gainful employment. At least of the normal sort.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You’re leading up to something. We arriving there any time soon?”

Mohrdrand didn’t answer him right away. Instead, an uncomfortable silence grew between them. Finally, “Bounties, Jackson,” the old wizard heaved a great breath. “Somehow, you’re going to have to convince the local adventurer’s guild to accept you so that you may go out searching for bounties.”

Jack blinked.

Mohrdrand held up a hand before he could say anything. “Face the facts, Jackson,” he urged. “You will not earn sufficient gold at any sort of mundane job you’re likely to find to finance even a journey to the next city, let alone the capitol. You’ll be ten years reaching the king. Your only hope is to garner some bounty money, and perhaps a bit of plunder.”

“In a city where, as it’s recently been pointed out, I don’t speak the language,” Jack grumbled. “In a land where my lack of a life crystal marks me as a peasant, not a fighter.”

“I will act as your interpreter,” Tiarraluna offered.

“You most certainly will not,” Jack turned on her. “Your task was done when you brought me here.”

“And so I shall begin a new task,” she seemed undeterred.

“I won’t expose you to—”

“If you say danger, Jack san,” she warned, “I shall smack you with my staff. I am a rank ten advanced novice mage, and have been, I would wager, on more adventures than you.”

He doubted that, but he was saved from the folly of saying so.

“I may have a solution to your other problem,” Mohrdrand interrupted, a small smile quirking his lip.

Jack turned back to him, his mind still working on what to do with the girl.

“I will write you a letter of recommendation,” the old wizard informed him. “Explaining your situation. I’m sure Guild Master Jonkins will accept.”

“And then what?” Jack wondered.

“Why, you look at the bounty board and pick a mission,” the old man said. “Something you’re strong enough to accomplish, but not so ruinously dangerous your journey ends here.”

“That’s it?”

“What else would you need?”

Jack scratched at the back of his head, wincing. The list would be voluminous. He looked over at FoeSmite, leaning against the wall. Melee. The sword, too. Melee. If he was expected to go monster hunting, he needed something with range. He’d had quite enough of wading into contact distance to start trouble.

“Unless I’m gonna finance the trip by killing gophers,” he said, irritation tinging his voice, I’ll need more equipment than I currently have.”

The old wizard nodded. “I suppose you will,” he commiserated, though he didn’t offer solution.

Tiarraluna drew breath to speak, but Jack turned to her again, “No,” he said, voice flat.

Her face drew into a volcanic frown.

Back to Mohrdrand. “This recommendation,” he asked. “Can you make it clear enough that I don’t need a translator?”

The old man shook his head. “I’m a mage, Jackson,” he chuckled. “Not a seer. I cannot predict all that you would need. Nor could I possibly predict the totality of the bounties that may be present on the board. And before you ask,” he gestured with the hand again. “No, I cannot accompany you. I’ve business of my own to attend to that I’ve already put off for longer than I ought.”

Jack scrubbed at his face, irritation growing. This was why the world spells on language existed. “Another ring, maybe?” he asked forlornly. “Something I can hand over to whoever I need to speak to?”

Mohrdrand frowned. “Just exactly how much is it you anticipate I owe you, Jackson Grenell?” he asked quietly.

“Huh?”

“What I have done,” the old man announced. “And what I am doing, I do as a favor to Rosaluna, who is an old friend. I owe no allegiances to these people you travel to save. My loyalties lie with Mokkelton and Tandera.

Jack gave it some thought. “And the rings are expensive?” he asked after a short while.

“Very expensive,” the old man nodded. “I don’t mind feeding you for a day or two, or giving you an old tunic. But I must draw the line at equipping you with high order magical items, or performing magical tasks beyond the minor. The recommendation, I will provide because it costs me nothing more than these discussions we’ve been having. Beyond that, I’m afraid I will have to begin charging you for services.”

So. Back to square one. Or was it two? He cast a sidelong glance at Tiarraluna. Button. Her face remained angry, but still focused on him.

“I don’t imagine you’d consider a small loan?” he wondered of the old wizard. “Just enough to buy a decent bow and maybe some sort of cheap armor.”

The old man rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers, his face stern. He drew breath to speak, but hesitated, his eyes shifting slightly to his right.

Jack followed the shift and caught Tiarraluna glaring silently at the old man.

“I’m afraid not,” Mohrdrand sighed still regarding the girl. “I have no idea when or if I might ever see you again, Jackson. It would be a poor investment.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to glare. “Tiarraluna....”

Her glare was gone, her face benign. Smiling, even. “Jack san?” she beamed. “You will listen to me now?”

He scrubbed at his face once more. He wasn’t in control here. Not even close, and it bothered him. Reminded him too much of other places where he’d been forced into situations against his better judgement.

But the push to move had him. Ever since his realization that he wasn’t where he was meant to be, and particularly once he’d encountered the jaegers. There was a place —people— who needed him, and sitting here wasn’t getting him there.

“Alright, Tiarraluna,” he sighed without removing his hand from his face. “Let’s have it.”

Her grin widened. “I will accompany and translate for you,” she started. “And I will loan you the money to ready yourself for your first adventure. I do not have much, but it should be enough.”

“And in exchange?”

“You will pay me back,” she said simply.

He peeked through two fingers at her, smiling smugly over there. His eye shifted to the old wizard, who seemed strangely relaxed. “And what would that look like?” he wondered.

The question seemed to confuse her. “Jack san?” she wondered, eyes narrowing, “Just how is it you imagine I make my living?”

His eyes widened and his hand moved from his face.

“Yes, Jack san,” she grinned. “I am an adventurer. How is it, I wonder, that you have not already come to this conclusion? How did you suppose one became an advanced novice mage?”

He really hadn’t given it any thought. His mind had been otherwise engaged the whole of the time they’d known each other. “You want to come along, then.”

“Do I?” she giggled. “Jack san,” she informed him then, a patently false sonorous note to her voice. “I am afraid you do not understand your situation here. I am rank ten. You are... something other. It is you who will be coming along with me.”

The old wizard seemed to be getting a kick out of this. Jack less so. So he was the sidekick, huh? He didn’t like the sound of that. Oh, it made sense now that she’d laid it out in the open, but that only made it worse.

“So, the letter?” he asked the old wizard, his voice resigned.