As usual, Orvale had totally nonsensical geometry to Topher; despite covering several square miles of land, the vast majority of it seemed to be largely empty, with over-wide streets, over-large buildings, and a tiny population relative to the size of the city. The place was almost totally unguarded -- he saw maybe five of the typical guards he was used to by now, with big stupid helmets and impractically large halberds -- and nobody even asked their identity or business. Two guards near the main gate watched impassively as a trickle of foot and conveyance traffic flowed in and out, but made no move to address, inspect, or otherwise interact with anyone or anything. Topher had to resist the urge to wave his hand in front of them as they passed. "Great security here."

"The guard force is not here to ensure security, Bailey-san," Hana commented gently. "They're here to minimize disruption. As long as we keep our heads down, they don't really care what we do -- which is why Orvale is a hotspot for smuggling and illicit trade."

"Figures," grunted Topher. "But I guess that would make it a good place to do business for the people we're looking for."

Hana nodded. "I have no proof of it, but I suspect the Gatekeepers have a great deal of political influence in the city, and encourage regulations and norms to that effect."

"Really?" Topher blinked, then glowered dubiously. "Exactly how powerful are these guys?"

"How powerful do you imagine a secret society that controls awareness of and access to magical artifacts would be in this world?" Hana murmured in response. Zanasha strode behind them, alert for threats, but seemed reluctant to comment on the topic; Topher wondered if she was just staying out of a potential argument.

They secured lodging in an inn near the city's center and stowed their belongings in their rooms (one for the girls, one for Topher). He had a long moment of uncomfortable familiarity as he inspected his room -- smells of cooked rice, boiled peppers, and burning meat kept wafting through his memory for some reason. He debated dropping off some of his equipment, but decided against it after a long pause -- the risk of losing all his hard-earned magical gear was too great to be worth the benefit of slightly less conspicuousness. He did take the time to wash his clothes and have a bath, though, which he discovered had been desperately needed -- the basins he used to contain the water he washed with were opaque and gray with dirt and grime. Bet that made a great first impression on my crush, he thought with a black scowl.

When the three of them reconvened that afternoon, Hana directed them to a tavern on the northern side of town, then instructed them to hold down a table and wait for her. "I'm going shopping," she announced loudly as they ordered drinks, then continued in a low murmur. "Lorachian's shop is nearby; I don't know how long this will take, but it could be several hours. If I get in trouble, I'll break a bottle of Vakian Essence." Before Topher could ask what the fuck Vakian Essence was, she was gone, leaving behind a floral scent and a barely-touched mug of spiced cider.

Topher groaned. "Sure hope that means something to you. I don't now if that implies I should be on the look out for fire, explosions, or the color yellow."

"Vakian Essence," Zanasha murmured, sipping her stout, "is the distilled saps and oils of the Vakia flower. Exposed to air, it creates a loud hissing noise, then attracts a sizable flock of birds; Hana-chan has used it as a signal on many occasions." She signaled the barmaid and ordered a platter of sausages and cutlets, then pushed it over to Topher. "Do you enjoy meat, Friend Topher? If so, please eat your fill; you have looked undernourished of late."

Topher paused, confused, then barked a laugh. "I think you mean I look less fat. I gained a lot of weight eating conjured pastries over the last few months; this is just me trying to rediscover what my toes look like." Then again, I should probably eat as much meat as I can now, if I really want to be serious about building muscle. Lifting a sausage to his mouth, he took a performatively large bite and chewed appreciatively. He didn't have to fake it -- the sausage, unlike most of the foods he'd gotten since his Summoning, contained actual salt and pepper, and was damn near the tastiest thing he'd eaten in months.

Zanasha seemed to relax slightly. "If you deem it so. What brought on such a desire for change?"

Topher choked down his sausage, taking a swig from his beer to avoid showing his embarrassment. "Let's just say nearly killing myself trying to catch... a teammate... made it very clear to me that I needed to work on my squat max." Despite the coolness of the tavern, he was abruptly basting in sweat. Gotta tread careful here. Nothing makes a work environment turn hostile like an unwelcome attraction -- the more she thinks of me as Friendly Non-Threatening Uncle Topher, the safer we all are. "Most of the time I can rely on spells to lift heavy things, but not always -- if I'm running out of MP, I'd better be able to at least avoid injuring myself doing basic stuff."

Zanasha folded her hands and looked into his eyes, an openly curious expression on her face; Topher immediately had to restrain his urge to gaze adoringly back and instead stared neutrally at her forehead while covering his mouth with his hand. Yet again, he found himself unusually at ease in her presence; being this close to a woman normally made him flinch and start counting exits. "What exactly can a Mage do, Friend Topher? Are your Skills similar to those of other Classes, where you simply will an effect to occur?"

"Sometimes," Topher admitted. "But for the most part, my Skills are 'spell' Skills -- I have to cast them, which usually involves saying runes and doing other stuff. If I say the runes correctly, along with any other requirements, the spell goes off -- otherwise, nothing happens at best, or I get a mishap effect at worst." Not that he'd seen too many of those, but his spellbooks had been very clear about the potential for horrific outcomes -- severed limbs, bodily mutilation, and dimensional spaghettification -- that could occur, and he would rather they remained hypothetical as far as he was concerned. "Other than spells, most of my other Skills are automatic -- Improved Status and stuff like that. The only ones that I can just will to happen are summoning my Ledger and Stylus."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Careful, the distant part of his mind observed. Remember what happens to people who tell others too much about their Status. Topher winced, but tried to ignore the intrusive thought; he wanted to trust the half-orc. It was a stupid, self-destructive desire, but that didn't matter -- he was so desperate for any iota of motivation and meaning in his pathetic existence that he was more than willing to make a few dumb decisions if that was what it took. No point avoiding being killed if I'm not gonna do any actual living, goddammit.

Zanasha cocked her head. "Ledger? Stylus? What are those?"

Aflush with awkward pride, Topher summoned them and proffered them, almost dropping his Ledger on the platter of meat; cursing, he handed over the Stylus first and tried to wrangle the slim volume back into his own grasp, but only succeeded in dropping it into a puddle of beer on the floor instead. "Dammit. Butterfingers Topher over here."

Zanasha half-leapt to her feet. "Is it damaged? Do we need a cleaning solution?"

Topher chuckled and banished the Ledger, then resummoned it; as always, it reappeared whole and pristine. "Not for this, at least. But if I slip and fall in that, it'll be a different story; the robe's had worse than beer stains, but I still have to clean it the normal way."

Nodding, the half-orc sat back down -- Topher was chagrined to see that a subtle pink tinge was blooming at the tips of her ever-so-slightly pointed ears. Mortified at my etiquette. Fantastic. Maybe next I can cut a loud fart right as all the conversation in the restaurant happens to pause. "Fortuitous. I am relieved it was not damaged." She marveled at his Stylus, turning it this way and that to catch the light; the Magic Gem at its upper end sparkled kaleidoscopically as sunlight from the nearby window refracted through its shimmering depths. "It is very exquisitely crafted. What does it do?"

"It's a writing tool," Topher said, a little dismissively. "The gem on the top lets me use it as a wand, though. Kind of a multipurpose thing." Retrieving it, banished it with a flourish -- feels dangerous having it out in town, he thought with a shudder. His memory of causing an accidental cave-in with it in the dungeon was pretty fuzzy -- likely thanks to coincident head trauma -- but he definitely had anxiety about the potential for any further accidents. "I mostly use it to write in this," he continued, handing over his Ledger.

As Zanasha opened the tome, her eyes grew wide, and her mouth formed a small o that was neatly bounded by her lower tusks. "Ak'zul. This is... quite complex."

"Yeah, uh, a lotta math." Topher abruptly remembered that he'd copied down her exercises in his ledger, and prayed fervently to a God he didn't believe in that she wouldn't see his stupid-ass stick figures. "In my world, I basically never did math, so I wasn't very thrilled when I found out being a mage was, like, ninety percent math. But it was that or die, so..." he shrugged. "Still not convinced I chose wisely."

The half-orc closed the tome and pushed it away with both hands, back towards Topher, and he banished it without even bothering to pick it up first; she blinked, then returned her gaze to Topher's. "I... do not know much about mathematics," she admitted, looking embarrassed. "What studies my parents instructed me in were primarily martial and linguistic."

"You definitely do speak beautifully," sighed Topher, then sat bolt upright as he realized what had come out of his mouth. "Uh, I mean, you're really, um, articulate. Big vocabulary and stuff." Idiot, he cursed, mentally kicking himself. It hasn't even been fifteen minutes and you're fucking this up.

Luckily, Zanasha seemed not to have taken offense. "My parents had many books," she demurred. "They both spoke the Human tongue at home, and the Orc speech when interacting with others of the village. I was encouraged to read from an early age; I was not... adept... at socializing with other orcs." She ducked her head, looking thoughtful, and took another gulp of her stout.

"Why's that?" Topher asked, trying manfully not to fall into the trap of stereotyping orcs. "You seem pretty personable."

"To a human, perhaps," the half-orc allowed. "To orcs, I am... confusing. Difficult to read. My father's people are fairly straightforward -- they say what they mean, often without consideration or restraint. It is often an efficient way of speaking, but..." she shrugged. "Coupled with the typical topics central to orc culture -- food, combat, discipline -- there is little in the way of complexity or subtlety."

Topher was pretty sure he understood. "I'm guessing they didn't really approve of your Class, then."

"They did not," Zanasha acknowledged. "To them, the cunning and strategy of a Fighter seemed like cowardice. I left my village soon after I came of age." She opened her mouth as if to say more, but seemed to think better of it and forbore.

"I'm sorry." Topher scratched his beard and took another bite of meat; he was getting full, but still wanted to meet that protein quota. "Was that before or after you met Hana?"

"Before." Zanasha drained the last of her stout, then leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I was hunting monsters for the Adventurer's Guild when I came across a young girl fleeing from a pack of Jelly Slimes. I slew a portion of their number, then found her a stout branch and gave her... encouragement and instruction... to aid her in defeating the few that remained."

Topher smirked. "Tough love, huh? I remember my first encounter with Jelly Slimes -- they can mess you up if you're not ready for how fast their lunges are."

Zanasha chuckled, then sobered. "I was still young myself -- barely past my twenty-fifth winter -- but to a girl of fifteen I must have seemed reliable indeed. And I..." -- the half-orc paused, then blew out a breath -- "I was very lonely, and greatly in need of a friend. Hana-chan may have been young and unready for battle, but she was someone I could talk to -- someone with stories of a different world far beyond anything I had read in my parents' books. In a way, it was she who saved me."

"I don't doubt it," murmured Topher, having a lot of complicated feelings at once in many directions. "When I was Summoned here, I was the only adult in a big sea of little Asian kids. I probably wasn't the best friend to them, but..." he trailed off, trying to figure out the tangled knot of his sentiments. "I guess they saved me just like that, in a way."

"I see." Zanasha lowered her eyes, then raised them again; she was just about to speak when a fist split the air between them, hurtling down towards the table to land with a thunk next to the platter of meat and sausage. Alarmed, Topher looked up to see Hana's flushed and grinning face.

"So," she panted, turning her hand palm-up and opening it to reveal a large silver badge in the shape of a nine-pointed star, "guess who's the newest member of the Gatekeepers?"