As you may very well know, readers have a tendency to forget about the world around them whenever a book captures them: time slows down, or accelerates, sounds grow dimmer, reduced to a background ‘chatter’ that makes the atmosphere all the more relaxing. The world dims, the only light that matters the one over your head, and everything else becomes secondary.
That’s how Isse and Siidi felt every time they read the stories and phantasies of people from this world. She had expected them to be somewhat similar to the stories from her world but, instead, had ended up being pleasantly surprised. Why? Because what was fantasy on Earth was everyday life here, which meant that this world’s version of fantasy was, if possible, even more fantastic. From the ‘Mind [Detective]’ and his ability to walk in a victim’s memories to find out who was the criminal to the ‘Wars of Worms’ and scarily effective attempt at creating an invisible, lethal, parasitic enemy that could overthrow continents in a matter of days, everything was… new. Refreshingly so.
She’d spent the last three days either being trained by Albert in lockpicking or reading. It was… good. Everything was simply good. Nothing to worry about, nothing and no one to disturb her when she didn’t want to. It was all quiet. Exactly what she needed. Even Albert had seemingly decided that right now wasn’t the best of times to train her into becoming a better [Spy].
That morning, though, her new routine would be broken by the [Spymaster] making an announcement:
“Isse, Creanza, you know, the proprietress of the Boneless Dancer, just sent me a message via [Runner]. Apparently she’s calling in the debt you have with her.”
At the moment Isse had been sprawled in her hammock, reading, like she nearly always did these past days. She was also somewhat surprised at how Siidi had yet to get bored. She knew the girl had a passion for books, but she’d never thought it would be this great.
Using her [Bookmark] Skill, she placed a thin, spectral, string at the page she’d been reading, closing the book and turning towards Albert.
“What do you mean?” she asked, furrowing her brow, her spidery legs beginning to twitch with all her pent up energy from sitting around all day. Should she start jogging? How would that even work with arachne? Would she need to skitter faster?
“Well, in the letter she sent me she said that she’s calling in the ‘I Owe You’ you gave her in exchange for my location the other day.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded, before realization struck her.
Oh fuck, they both thought in a chorus.
“Really? Do I seriously have to do this? I thought she was joking.”
Albert had the decency of looking contrite as he answered: “That’s the thing about Creanza many get wrong: she doesn’t make jokes. She likes to laugh and banter and if she wanted to she could probably make a salt scarred [Sailor] blush with her language, but she’s no liar or joker. If she says something will be done or something will happen, it will happen. So, yes, she’s serious, and yes, you should do as she asks.”
Isse groaned, burying her face into her spidersilk pillow (Fluffy!).
Then, through the material, she asked: “Why should I do it? It’s unfair that I should work just for the information she gave me.”
Albert glared at her, although she couldn’t see it. But she felt the disapproval in his tone as he answered: “Young miss, debts must be repaid, always. That is the way this world should work, and I’ll throw myself into the Nothingness if I don’t manage to teach you this simple principle. Also, since you asked, the debt isn’t for the information per se as much as for the carriage ride Creanza paid for you. That cost around five gold coins.”
Oh shit he called us ‘Young Miss’, he’s going full dad mode! said Siidi, cackling in the background.
Isse couldn’t contain herself and snorted, which caused Albert to get even more incensed: “You think this is funny? What do you think the world would look like if people forgot to repay their debts? It’s this exchange of favors that keeps everything running, never let anyone else say otherwise.”
Isse had to resist the urge to start outright laughing, which wasn’t helped by Siidi doing her best Albert-voice and repeating everything he was saying with a funny accent (that had probably been forgotten by the world). Instead, she tried to change the subject: “What did you mean by ‘throw yourself into the Nothingness’? Why not just say that you’ll go to Airm?”
He shrugged, his eyes still slightly narrowed as he looked at her for any more signs of not taking this seriously. When he was satisfied that there weren’t, he answered: “I’m probably already bound for Airm girl, only destiny worse than that is being thrown out into Nothingness.”
At her raised eyebrow, he sighed and sat down on the only other piece of furniture left in the room that wasn’t completely webbed up: “Sinners go to Airm to atone for everything bad they’ve done in their lives. But that, I’m sure, you already knew. What most people tend to forget is that, once someone’s done enough of that, their souls get to go back to reincarnate like the ones from Larnos.
“But some sins are so unforgivable, so heinous, so… there’s probably another word out there to describe it, I can’t think of one right now, so let’s just with this: some things are so bad, that the gods just outright take the soul and throw it into the primordial Nothingness to become absolutely nothing. I imagine they’ve done this for the drakes and the arachne.”
Drakes? She’d never heard of those.
You never heard of them because they haven’t been around since… basically forever. They were all gone well before even the arachne were created.
Ah.
Still, she decided to correct Albert on one thing: “Arachne don’t go to Airm,” she told him.
Albert frowned: “Where do they go then, because I’m pretty sure the gods wouldn’t send them to Larnos.”
Isse shrugged: “We don’t go anywhere. Death just comes and takes us into her warm embrace. That… that’s what Grandmother told me, once.”
That’s what she’d seen, for a moment, that night, before the little golden spider had come for her. The moment she’d forgotten, brought back by that [Teamaker].
Very slowly, Albert nodded: “Alright. Now!” he clapped his hands, “Let’s talk about something less saddening: you’re going to repay your debt. You’re going to work for her five days.”
“Five? She’d said it would’ve been one day!”
“That was before the [Driver] told her how much it would cost her.”
“Ugh!” she groaned as she face planted again into her pillow.
Don’t worry. I’m sure serving a few tables won’t be that hard.
Spoiler: it was.
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If you’ve never worked a job serving tables at a restaurant or bar or anything like that and think for even a moment that it is easy, then you are severely wrong and need a reality check. It may not be the hardest job in the world, not by far, but it is, in my modest opinion, one of the most laborious ones, and one you do exclusively if you really like it. The amount of rest one can take is close to nothing, and never feels enough considering just how much one needs to move around. It also requires a considerable amount of upper body strength, incredible patience and a great memory.
Isse… didn’t know any of that. Like Siidi.
So she received a very harsh reality check indeed during the first two hours of her shift the next morning.
Her job had been really simple: take orders from the clients, bring the ones for drinks to Creanza at the counter, anything else to the kitchen, and bring it back to the client. You’d think things were slow, what with the [Chef] needing to prepare the food. Turns out, it wasn’t, because the man had a few Skills that allowed everything to cook faster. A lot faster.
“Isse, get the plate for table seven,” calmly said Lavia as she passed by her side.
She was, currently, sitting with her spider half on the floor behind the counter, her human half bent ninety degrees back and lying on it, her Shifting Silk clothes making it look like she was lying on the floor.
Slowly, groaning, she got to her feet. Hadn’t it been for the arachne’s natural stamina she would’ve long since fallen to the ground. She reached the opening in the wall that viewed the inside of the kitchen, her hands touching the next plate she had to carry, and was stopped by a masculine voice she’d come to know very well during this whole day: Premié. The [Kitchen Boss] was a generally silent individual, but whenever he spoke he tended to be loud. Especially with Creanza. Actually, exclusively with her. He seemed to like insulting her. Otherwise, he was a total sweetheart.
“Don’t take that. Let the little devil bring it to the table. And get back here, you need to rest or you’ll fall in the middle of the room and impede incoming people.”
Well, for a rather broad definition of sweetheart. He was a gruff fellow, even when he tried to be kind.
“But Lavia -”
“Lavia can go fuck herself, and Creanza can keep her company for all I care. You’ve worked hard enough for this evening kiddo,” he interrupted her.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
For a moment she just stared at him, dumbfounded, then she nodded and skittered for the door to the kitchen, entering and finding a little corner where she wouldn’t bother the man, sitting down there.
“Aren’t you uncomfortable? Want a stool?” he motioned towards another corner of the very well stocked kitchen, where a simple padded stool sat, looking extremely dusty. Clearly it hadn’t seen any use in a long time.
“No, thank you, I’m plenty comfortable like this.”
“Whatever suits you,” and he went back to chopping some vegetables with a very sharp looking knife, the rhythmic thunk thunk thunk of the metal hitting the wooden board lulling her into a trance reminiscent of sleep. Her eyes fixed a spot outside a window in the expansive room and just kept looking.
Until someone called her name.
“Isse!” said Creanza from the opening in the wall.
She batted her eyes, getting out of her sleepy trance-like state, and noticed only then that the light had disappeared outside.
“Ah, there you are. Taking some time off? Well, you deserved that,” she continued.
Meanwhile Lavia looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes, which got her a gentle slap on the shoulder: “Don’t act like that Lavia. She’s new, and she’ll be staying here only for a few days. So cut her some slack. She did better than I expected.”
Beside her Premié grunted affirmatively and finished polishing one last knife, the metal nearly shining in the lamplight.
“Still, Isse, I’d like you to serve one last client. She’s a regular resident, and a shy one. Compared to the lot of us, she’d probably be more comfortable with you.”
Groaning, Isse got up and nodded. There was one last plate near the [Chef], warm and inviting, smelling heavenly. She recognized the meat on it, krimou, obtained from that strange hybrid between a cow, a slime and a reveler ant. It had been ground and mixed together with many herbs and some vegetables to enhance the taste, then turned into a burger, which had now been seared to perfection and turned into a hamburger with various dressings and a side of tomatoes.
“Please tell me you’ll cook us dinner,” she said, looking up at Premié with big cat eyes.
The [Chef] snorted and nodded: “All meals for the staff are cooked by me girl. You seriously thought I’d cook us lunch and breakfast and let you go hungry for dinner?”
Now that she thought about it she realized it had been a stupid concern.
“Yeah, Premié here is a goody two shoes. Although, I lost count of how many times he made me go hungry because apparently I was being ‘a nuisance’. Can you believe it? Me? A nuisance? Bah,” confirmed Creanza while she jokingly slapped the man’s shoulder.
“And you’re on a good path for missing another meal tonight woman. You’re lucky the little one here makes it all better.”
Sighing, Isse took the plate in her hands and began walking out, grumbling under her breath: “Why does everyone keep calling me little one? I’m nearly eighteen!”
“Because you’re new and inexperienced and because we like using nicknames,” answered Creanza to her back.
Acria, the half-devil woman, sighed in exasperation but smiled fondly: “Don’t worry, it’s normal. I’ve been working here for two years now and they still call me Little Red. I don’t even like red.”
“Yeah, but traditionally demons and devils have red skin, and you being -” started Creanza.
“That’s speciesist, stop it,” she interrupted her employer.
And they started bantering.
Sighing, Isse skittered her way towards her last table for the evening. The Boneless Dancer was empty at this time of night (because it was definitely night now). A clock on the wall read that it was around midnight and, for a moment, she remembered Grandmother’s lessons about times of power. Sadly she wasn’t a [Witch] (not that she had ever wanted to be one), so her abilities as a [Soul Shaper] weren’t enhanced in any way at this hour, but she’d been told that two times every year, at the Solstices, she could be empowered. In which ways? Grandmother had never told her. She hadn’t had the chance.
Anyways: there was only one person left except for the serving staff. She looked like a young woman wearing dark clothes and… a mask, apparently. It was a simple thing, white as ivory, and featureless except for the eyeholes and two small nose holes, her dark hair covering anything that the mask didn’t already hide. Currently she was reading a big leatherbound book that looked like it weighed several pounds and was probably extremely boring.
She reached her and smiled tiredly: “Good evening, this is yours, right?”
The woman, no, the girl, for she looked too small to be an adult (or she had some kind of disease that made her small. Or she was of a different race, maybe a half breed between a dwarf and a human. Ok, there were a lot of possibilities) looked up from her book and, upon seeing her plate, nodded, pushing the heavy tome to the side and taking the proffered food. Then she reached her hand up to the mask and, with a swift motion and a clack, unlocked something and detached the lower half, revealing her mouth and pale skin underneath. She looked up for a moment, nodding in thank you, placed a silver coin and a few coppers on the table, and turned to her burger, biting in it with gusto, a small smile appearing on her face.
Isse took the coins and silently walked back to the bantering group in the kitchen.
When she came back she saw a plate identical to the one she’d just brought to the girl waiting for her on the kitchen counter, only this one had some fried potatoes instead of tomatoes as dressing.
Raising an eyebrow she wanted to ask about this, but Premié beat her to it: “Lavia has a Skill, [Guest: Perceive Desire]. She knew you’d rather have something less healthy than slices of tomatoes.”
The harpy beside him, who was eating a steak with gusto, nodded.
Well, all the better for me, she thought, taking the burger in her hands and -
“How about you eat at a table,” suggested Creanza, who was sitting on the counter near her, plate in one hand and fork in the other, legs crossed under her butt.
“Can’t I eat here with you all?”
The woman made a so-so gesture with her silvery utensil: “Yeah, you could, but there’s not much free space in here.”
Isse raised an eyebrow and pointed at the counter behind her that was clean and free of people: “There’s lots of space.”
Premié grunted: “No, there isn’t. I cleaned up there already and have no desire to do it again.”
“You should eat at a table,” repeated Creanza, humming as she tasted another bite of food, and making Isse understand why Premié liked to shout at her. Right now, hungry and tired, she had no desire to be a part of her shenanigans.
“But do make sure not to dirty another one,” added Lavia.
Grumbling again, Isse took her plate and left the room: “If you didn’t want to have me around you should’ve just said so.”
“It’s not that dearie, it’s just a matter of convenience for you,” reassured Creanza with a smile, putting her fork on her plate and gently ruffling her hair.
“You did well today. Better than I expected. Oh, here, take this before I forget,” she put her plate down, rummaged around in the bag of holding on her hip, and after a moment threw something that glinted yellow in the lamplight. Out of instinct Isse went to catch it with one hand, nearly losing her grip on the plate and managing only to save her dinner by quickly putting her hand underneath it after she caught the thing.
When she looked down she saw two gold coins, a bearded man’s face looking up at her with judgemental eyes on one, an image of Irevia on the other.
“Payment for today,” finished Creanza.
Isse batted her eyes incredulously at the coin, then looked up: “I thought I was here to repay my debt. Why are you paying me?”
Creanza snorted and shooed her off jokingly: “You seriously thought I’d make you work here and not pay you? What do you take me for, a monster?” she smiled kindly, not her usual boisterous smile, this was just that: just a smile of happiness and satisfaction.
“I know how hard the work here is. Being one of the most famous establishments in the city means a lot of work for us and I know it isn’t easy. So let’s put it this way: having you work here is more a matter of principle than money. Not like we’ll be going bankrupt just for five gold coins. Airm, I think Premié spends that much every day in supplies alone.
“So yes, Isse, I will be paying you for your time spent here. Consider this more a… formative experience, than just you repaying your debt. Now go eat. I can see that if I’ll keep you here any longer you’ll eat me.”
“Kinky,” said Acria, causing everyone to laugh.
Now smiling, Isse walked out of kitchen and, after a moment, noticed the lonely girl at the table from before.
Well, they did tell you not to dirty another table, encouraged her Siidi. She had been uncharacteristically silent these past few hours, her comments on the situations she’d ended up in being reduced to a minimum.
Welcome back to the land… of… the thinking!
Girl, that was horrible.
It sounded better before I said it, alright?
She heard a chuckle and reached the table. The girl was still eating, slowly, tasting every bite as if this was going to be the last food she’d get for a while.
After a moment of hesitation, Isse spoke: “I’m sorry, can I sit at this table? Those meanies,” she tried to joke, pointing at the kitchen, where everyone acted as if they weren’t looking at her, “shooed me off.”
The girl looked away from her food and up at her, a little bit of sauce on the corner of her lip, which she swiftly licked off. Then she nodded: “Alright,” and went back to her meal.
Isse sat down and began eating in silence. It was strangely… relaxing. Just sitting there in the company of another person she didn’t know and eating, the only sounds around them their munching and the hushed talking coming from the kitchen.
That was how they spent the next few minutes, until the girl finished her plate, which looked clean, pushed it to the side while she pulled back towards her the heavy tome she’d been reading, and went back to doing just that.
After she was done eating too, Isse pushed her plate to the side and just… sat there. She laid her head in the crook of her left arm, the other one hugging it, and simply sat there, enjoying the well earned moment of calm. Time seemed to fly by afterwards: she thought she heard someone passing by and taking their plates, and she thought she heard someone locking up the place.
Then someone touched her shoulder.
Looking up, it was Creanza: “Your room is ready Isse.”
She frowned, trying to talk.
“I won’t send you back to Albert’s workshop in this state at this hour.”
Finally, she managed to speak: “I can defend myself.”
She smiled, shaking her head: “I have no doubt of that, dear, but why risk needing to defend yourself when you can just sleep here. I’ve got enough spare rooms for it. Come on.”
Finally, after a moment of hesitation, she nodded, and got up. Then Creanza went to the other girl and shook her shoulder too: “Time to go to bed dear. You’ll keep studying tomorrow.”
After a moment of silence, the girl nodded, closing the book and getting up.
In a moment of inspiration, Isse spoke: “What’s your name?”
The girl froze in place for a second, her shoulders locked, spine straight. As if by asking her name she’d just broken some secret rule.
Then she answered: “I’m Morra.”
“Isse, but you already knew. Pleasure to meet you,” she bowed her head slightly.
The girl stood there, motionless, staring at her through the holes in her mask, looking for all the world like a soulless doll, until she said: “Me too. A pleasure, that is.”
Before turning around and walking up the stairs.
In the days to come, the two of them would become close friends.