My alarm wakes me up and I confirm two hours have passed when I bring up the System. It takes a moment before I process where I am and that everything up to my nap was not a dream. I take a few deep breaths but they quicken into hyperventilation. I hoped so much it was a dream, somehow.
I force myself to sit up and go back to my breathing exercises. In. Out. In. Out. After what must be minutes I manage to get get my breathing back under control. A small voice in my head suddenly insists that I can’t be like this, in what is ultimately a hostile environment.
I bring up the Shop and look at the Sub-Systems first, trying to find something that might help with the anxiety. I find nothing as 30 minutes tick by. I move on to Traits and begin browsing there. This time I spend far less time finding Mental Fortitude. It seems like I can’t purchase it at anything but D rank, for 5 tokens.
I close the Shop and the System and sit there, thinking. I can’t continue being this afraid, but won’t I cross my own line doing this? Won’t I be betraying myself? I open the page for Mental Fortitude again and consider. I would definitely be going against my own intent. Would this betrayal be worse than trying to work through the anxiety? It takes me entire minutes of going around in circles in my mind before I have an answer.
I close the Shop and the System once more. I won’t be taking this shortcut. I managed to work through initial training with the quarterstaff, I can do it again. I’m scared, but I can do it. I take one last deep breath and call out, wanting to confirm one last thing. “Rep?”
“Yes, Sebastian?”
Rep’s reply flows in with their presence. “Can I reverse a trait purchase?”
“To the best of our knowledge, you cannot. Once you take something, it’s part of you.”
I bite my lip and look aside, feeling hesitation well up. “Can traits fundamentally change me?”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Gaining a trait is some fundamental change in you, so a purchase probably will. We’re sorry.”
I take a deep breath, holding it in before sighing slowly. “Thank you, Rep. That’s all for now.” No shortcuts. At least for now. I get up from the bed and stretch a bit before heading out of the hovel.
Outside it’s mid-afternoon. Still some time before evening and the sun going down, but closer to that than the other end. I reach into my pocket, give my phone a squeeze for reassurance, and make my way to the kitchen. Kiril asked I come by, and that’s the best I have to do right now.
I pass by various Staufolk on my way, all of them sparking my discomfort with their bows and mumblings of ‘Traveler’. By the time I’m close to the kitchen, my anxiety is part way back. I stop outside the building, not wanting Kiril to approach me while I feel this way, and go back to the breathing exercises. I don’t remember when was the last time I had to do them this many times in a day.
I calm down again and make my inside and towards the kitchen. When he spots me he waves to me and it feels as though he brightens up. As I get closer, I bring up my hand in a meek wave. “You asked I come when I’m rested.”
Kiril’s demeanor is relaxed and his ears move to a position I now associate with smiling. “That I did. I would like for you to teach me about some food from where you come from. The last Traveler taught me about French fries and they were a hit.”
French fries meant whoever came over was from a relatively modern time… I mentally went over what I know how to make reliably and it strikes me that the list is very limited. Nothing that comes to mind is something I would truly like to share, being the food of someone struggling. I think on it and then arrive at an idea. “Could I see what you have available? I don’t want to teach you about something you can’t make.”
“Of course, of course!” Kiril nods with his entire body, seeming excited. He leads me to a side room with a heavy door. From outside I can feel the cold it’s radiating. We go into what I find to essentially be a fridge.
They appear to have a lot of flour and an overabundance of vegetables. Carrots… potatoes… zucchinis… tomatoes… onions… wait. I look around again and spot some cheese and some meat. I have an idea I’m certain they would like. “Say, Kiril, do you have any experience with stretchy dough? How about sauce made from tomatoes?”
Kiril scratches his chin and looks thoughtful. “We make all kinds of breads, so we have experience with dough. Tomatoes are normally a bit too sour for most meals, so I only ever put them as a small part of something, like a stew. Why?”
I crack a smile. I’ve never made any, but I can make some guesses on how to do it. “I have an idea and you’re going to love it.”