The Wandering Inn

Book 3: Chapter : E

I dont dream of seeing. But I do dream of adventures. I think every boy does, and I never forgot that dream even when I grew older.

Yet its one thing to imagine being transported into another dimension or to another world, and quite another thing if it actually happens. Upon reflection, I think I would have rather eaten my quiche instead before I left, but we cant have everything.

Day 1

When I found myself in another world, I picked up on it right away for a number of reasons. First: Im pretty darn sure that a food court doesnt have grass inside of it, or trees. Second, it just felt different.

The air smelled strange to me immediately. You think I would have noticed the sun on my skin, but it was the stark difference in the way the wind smelled to me that stood out first. Its likehonestly, its like the difference between living in a polluted city like New York no, scratch that, somewhere really polluted like Hong Kong or Beijing for a few months and then going somewhere where the air is pure and clean.

There is a quality to the air. In bad places like airports, it smells sterilized and stale, and that goes double for airplanes. In a polluted place, its more pervasive than anything else; after a while you get used to it, but then the fog is in your lungs, making even breathing harder than it should be.

The difference between clean air and polluted air is tangible even to people who dont take that much notice of it. But the difference between the relatively clean food court and the place I was now in?

Unimaginable.

I look around, the bacon quiche still in one hand, my walking stick in the other. I feel like I should be freaking out but honestly, I dont want to start running about. I cant tell whats around me right now except that Im now standing on the grass, and Id hate to run into a tree, if there are any in the area.

If you havent guessed by now, Im blind. Thats not legally blind, of which there are many variations. I mean I see nothing. Not blackness, not a distinction between light and darknothing. Thats fine by me, but most people Ive met make a big deal about it.

Normally, I get on just fine no matter where I go. I have good friends, my parents are overprotective, and I can always ask for directions or help in a pinch.

Which would be now. The only problem is, Im getting the distinct impression Im alone. My best friend Zoe is not sitting at a table a few feet ahead of me, and I can hear birds.

I sweep the ground cautiously around me with my cane, pausing as I feel dirt at the tip and grass. Thats definitely not ceramic tiles. Either someones playing an amazing prank on me or

Hello? Zoe? Is anyone there?

No response. This is like a bad dream, the kind I used to have as a kid where Im lost in a huge building with no cane and no one around me. Only then I kept imagining something was sneaking up on me and it was dark.

Hello?

Thisplace is clearly somewhere in the light. I can feel sunshine on my skin, and Im pretty sure its early morning judging by the dew on the grass. I know that because Ive sat down.

Some people freak out when the unexpected happens. If I were someone else I might run around screaming, or panic. But being blind means that you learn bumping into things at high speeds is a bad idea. Plus, I still have the quiche in my hand.

I rest it on my lap as I sit to think. Well, Im somewhere else. Not in the mall. I might have suspected a prank, but Zoe isnt nearly that cruel, and its not as if Ive blacked out or been distracted. I literally just took a step and found myself

Here.

Is it a forest? Or a meadow? A hiking trail?

I touch gingerly at the grass and ground. Yep. That feels like morning dew. The grass is long and uncutanother sign? Im not on someones lawn here. And then I find a flower.

It feels soft under my fingertips. The petals nearly stick to my skin, and I recoil when I realize the head of the flower is wet. What kind of flower is this? Has a bird or something pooped on it?

No. Nectar.

It smells sweet and odd, and like nothing Ive ever smelled in my world. Already Im at the other world conclusion, but this time Im pretty damn sure.

The flower smells spicy-sweet, but also dark if that makes sense. It smells dark like I imagine the shade appears to peoplenot that Ive ever seen it for myself. But I can imagine the shadea wet, creeping thing as wide as an ocean that sucks up sunlight. Thats closest to the smell of this flower.

Its like nothing Ive ever smelled before, and I have a good memory. Ive visited huge greenhouses and even flower gardens across different countries in the world the Keukenhof Gardens in the Netherlands were my favorite and never come across this unique smell.

Cautiously, I reach down and pick the flower. I feel a bit bad, but I have to touch it, feel it. Im aware it could be poisonous, but I dont care. I smell it again, and this time realize the center of the flower was indeed sticky with that nectar.

Do I dare taste it? No, thats probably too risky. But that adds to my theory. I am somewhere else, and somethingstrange has happened to me.

Magic? Teleportation? Some kind of ultra-vivid hallucination?

It cant be real. But some part of me whispers yes it is. Yes it is.

This is real. Youre in another world.

And that makes me smile. Even if the curtain falls down in the next second or it turns out Im being tricked. For a second I believe.

The air smells different. Cleaner. Sweeter, even. For that matter, even the sunlight feelsodd. I could have sworn it was quite warm in San Franciscowarm enough that Zoe and I went into a mall to cool down. But today feels like a crisp autumn day.

A breeze ruffles my hair. I smell grass and that strange otherworldly smell of flowers Ive never seen before. And I hear a bird warbling off in the distance. That at least sounds normal.

Its such a pleasant day. I could get up and walk into uncertainty, but right here the grass is soft. It could be Im sitting right at the edge of a cliff and Id never know. But here is nice.

How long did I sit there, holding the quiche in my lap, just listening to the wind and birds? An hour, maybe. I sat and listened and grew more and more convinced that I was somewhere else. Somewhere special.

Thats when I heard the voice. It was distant at first, and then grew louder, accompanied to the sound of branches crackling. Something wails and I hear a thud off somewhere behind me and to the left.

I get a bit worried. Okay, stepping into another world is a jarring experience, but I was keeping calm by rationalizing it as a Platform 9 and s experience. But no one wants to meet a monster.

Or a bear. Forest + large thing = bear in my mind. But this bear has a voice. And its upset.

Behind me, I hear the thing stop, and then hear what sounds like sobbing. Thats reassuring for me, but then I practically feel something punch something else. It sounds like a tree from all the branches rustling from the impact.

Is it a person? I listen hard. Contrary to public belief, being blind does not confer supernatural senses to me. I just use what I have more efficiently. I can sort out the soundsyes, someones crying. Theyve got a deep voice which is why it sounded so odd. And theyre hiccuping.

I already feel a bit sympathetic for this person caught in their grief, although the thumping aspect I dont like. If theyre hitting that tree, then Im listening to it splinter from the impacts.

But theres no helping it. I stand up and raise my voice.

Hello? Is anyone there? Are you okay?

Immediately the crying stops. I hear what sounds like the intake of breath. I call out again, turning towards where I heard the person.

I think Im lost. Im sorry, but could I ask you for some help?

Help? Im coming!

It is a person! I never thought that would be the highlight of my day. But not only is it a person, its apparently a female person. At least, thats what she sounds like. But she has a very deep voice; not that I object to that. Her voice sounds soothing.

Immediately after she speaks, the mysterious person runs over to me. I hear her crashing through branches as she makes a beeline in my direction.

Im here! Whats the proboh!

Her footsteps make the ground tremble just a bit as she walks closer. I hold my ground and sense her as best I can.

Heavy. Shes definitely that. And big; thats my general impression. And she smells. Not bad per se; but she smellsnot exactly normal, I guess is the best way I could describe it. Shes certainly perspiring a bit, but thats not unpleasant.

And then she speaks again, and I hear the worry in her tone. Her voice is deep but smooth, and she has good diction; its rare to hear someone enunciate as well as she does.

Im here. Are you lost, stranger? Are your eyes hurt? You have them closed.

What? No. Im

I lift my cane a bit and I can feel her recoil backwards. I hear her take a step back. Did she think I was going to hit her? I lower the cane and raise a hand.

Im sorry. Im blind. This is my walking cane.

You cant see?

The voice sounds shocked. She didnt recognize my cane, either. Its pretty universalam I really in another world?

Not at all. I cant see you, but I can hear you.

An intake of breath. I feel like whoevers standing in front of me is huge; or at least their lungs are.

You cant see my face?

No. Is something wrong?

Silence. And then

No. Nothings wrong.

I smile. Im not sure if Im smiling at her, but it helps. It always does.

Thats good. I heard you and didnt want to interrupt, but I am in a bit of trouble. My name is Laken Godart.

I offer my hand, and I sense hesitation. But then a hand engulfs mine.

A big hand. But it gives my hand such a delicate squeeze that I barely feel a thing.

My name is Durene. How did you end up here, Mister Laken?

Mr. Laken? How odd. Is there any country I know of that uses that kind of title? I smile ruefully.

Im not quite sure how I got here. I was at a mall, and I must have turned the wrong corner? Something happened because I was suddenly walking around here.

Mall? Ive never heard of that town. Im sorry.

My eyebrows shoot up. Either shes a brilliant actor and this is the greatest simulation of all time, or shes serious.

Can you tell me where I am?

I think she nods. Ive been told people do that a lot although I only understood the gesture after someone showed me exactly what they were doing with their head.

Youre near the village of Riverfarm. In the forest, actually.

Riverfarm? At least I was right about the forest bit.

Is that near a city? I was in San Francisco just now and I have no idea how I got here.

Another pause.

Im sorry, but I dont know where that is. Is it a big city?

Very big. Whats the biggest city near here?

That would be Bells. Its over thirty miles away, though.

Is that anywhere in America?

America?

This is probably just a dream. Or a mental breakdown, although the psychiatrist my mom hired gave me a clean bill of health for the last few years. This is any number of things, but what I really want, a tiny bit, is for this to be real.

Sorry Durene, Im going to go out on a limb here, butcould you tell me what the year is? And what nation Im in?

Nation? Year? Idont keep track of the years. I think were around 22 A.F.? And, um, were not in a nation. No one rules Riverfarm but the village head.

Oh my god. I am in another world.

What?

I must be. Durene, do I lookunusual to you?

A pause. I can feel her drawing slowly closer. I cant tell, but I think shes looking me over.

Wellyou dress a bit oddly. You have unusual clothing. Theres a strange symbol of a triangle on your shirt. It lookscolorful.

I smile, a tiny bit. Being blind means my fashion sense is a bit skewed. I know Im wearing shorts and a t-shirt, apparently with a logo of the Illuminati eye on it. Zoe told me it looked good, but I have reason to doubt her fashion sense.

Have you ever seen anything like it before?

Not so vividly. Are you a noble? A merchant who sells fabric?

No. Im just blind. And I thinkyeah, I think Im very far from home.

Oh. Im so sorry.

I shrug.

Its not your fault. I think. If it is, Id love an explanation?

What? No! Id never

Shes so easily distressed. That makes me feel a bit guilty.

Im sorry. It was a joke.

Oh.

What to say? Im usually a decent conversationalist. Or at least, I can always find something to talk about even if its not well received.

I heard you crying. Are you alright?

Me?

Ive heard of a blush as well. Based on peoples descriptions and the one time I touched someone while they were blushing, I imagine heat filling their face. Thats certainly how it feels to me, and I suspect, Durene at the moment.

Itit was nothing. I was just upset, thats all. I didnt think anyone was around.

Her voice is rough with emotion. I pause, but why not follow this? Theres nothing to be gained from holding back. I learned that a long time ago.

Its fine if you dont want to speak about it. But if you want to talk

No.

I nod. But I can feel her hesitating. So I wait.

Someone called me a name. Thats all.

Ah.

So many years, so much feeling can go into a single word. I face in her general direction, and I know shes looking at me. And then I hear something funny.

Rumbling. Gurgling. A massive stomach. And I remember I do have something in one of my hands. I smile even as I sense Durene shifting and presumably, blushing.

Durene, would you like to share this quiche with me?

Are you sure?

Why not? Lets sit and talk. You seem like a nice person.

I sit down on the ground. After a second, I sense someone sitting next to me. I dont have a fork, but its no trouble to lever the quiche out of the tin container and break it apart. I give the bigger section to Durene over her protests and we eat and sit and talk.

That was how I met Durene, and my introduction to another world. As I said, I would have liked to eat my quiche first. It was only lukewarm at that point, but at least the company was nice.

Day 2

When I woke up, I once again confirmed that I was in another world. I didnt freak out.

That mildly surprised Durene, when she found I was up and quietly exploring her house. She lives in a rather large house next to a stream. I cant imagine it as a whole yet, but my exploration and her descriptions of the building give me the sense of a building of wood and rough stone, but carefully patched to avoid the elements or nature getting in. The stone floor is only slightly rough on my bare feet, and the lone window has no glass.

In short, this is a medieval building, and from what Durene told me in our hours-long chat yesterday, this is a medieval world. With magic. And only a limited grasp of technology. She was amazed to see my fiberglass cane; she exclaimed over the material as if it were alien to her world, which it was, in a sense.

Now I sit at a table, feeling like a midget in the chair Durene put me in while she clatters around the kitchen. I can smell something cooking, and it sounds like shes making eggs. The scent of warm bread is already filling my nostrils.

Here you are, Mister Laken. Im sorry its a bit burnt.

It smells delicious. And call me Laken.

I hear and feel the big plate being placed in front of me. After cautious exploration with a fork I find the eggsonly slightly runnyand the toasted bread. Yes, its crunchy, but it is quite good, and I tell her so.

Thank you for letting me sleep here. I think I took your only bed. Im sorry about that.

Oh, no! Its nothing. And I like sleeping outside.

Pretty liar.

Well. I think thats the first time Ive ever startled someone into silence so quickly. I hear her shifting, clearing her throat, and then she bursts out.

Arent you worried?

I raise my eyebrow. I have no idea if it looks good, but friends assured me it did, and I fell in love with the idea after reading a story where the main character did it to great effect.

About what?

Well, you said youre lost. Alone. In anotheranother world? How are you so calm?

That makes me smile. I may act calm, but I spent a good bit of last night while Durene was snoring outside freaking out and trying to affirm I really wasnt hallucinating. I have a sore arm from all the times Ive pinched myself.

Whats the point of freaking out? Im more excited than anything else, actually. Im in another world, one with magic. Theres no magic where I come from.

But you told me you have so many strange things. Like these cars and malls. It sounds amazing.

Im surprised you believe me, to be honest. If I heard someone talking about my world, Id assume they were crazy.

But you make it sound real. And that stick you have which folds up

Another miraculous invention by her standards. I think it was actually that which convinced Durene I was from another world. That, and my iPhone. I think Siri scared Durene more than anything else.

Yes, it turns out I have no wireless, and without battery I turned Siri off to save energy. But having an iPhone, even one with limited power, is amazingly useful in a survival situation, which is what I find myself in.

So is having a friend. I smile at Durene.

I dont think my world is that special. But I am glad you found me, Durene. Ive always found that I can trust most strangers.

Another pause. Another hypothetical blush.

Really? But you cant even seeand you just trusted me to help you. I could be

She pauses.

Someone bad.

But youre not. And I have a good sense for people, or at least, I like to think so. You seem like a very nice person, Durene.

Ithank you. But you cant see

I smile wryly.

I do notice some things. For instance, I know youre taller than me. And stronger. And you have calluses on your hand, your table is cracked hereand you have a big appetite.

Its hard not to notice her chomping down her food, to be honest. Durene shifts in her chair, making the wood creak.

Im sorry.

What? What are you sorry for?

Um

I quite enjoyed the eggs and toast. Did you make it yourself?

This time I think she nods, because theres a bit of silence before she speaks.

Oh! Yes! I eat a lot. So I have a big garden and I um, raise chickens and pigs and other animals. But I cant cook well because I dont have any Skills.

That seems rather harsh. Your food tasted good to me.

Silence. And then

Thank you. But I have to buy a lot of food anyways. The villagers sell me lots of things I cant make by myself.

So you live in a village? How many people live there?

If it seems odd we didnt cover that yesterday, well, theres a lot of explanations and confirming to be done when you think youve ended up in another world. Another part is convincing a scared young woman that you havent trapped a person in your iPhone.

Is she young? Durene sounds like shes a bit younger than I am. Of course, Im terrible at judging ages so she could be anywhere from my age to still in her teens. Girls grow up quicker than guys, after all.

Back to the conversation. Durene apparently lives in a small village of around sixty souls, most of whom live closer to each other. They inhabit a lovely area of farming land fed by a river, hence the name Riverfarm. The people there grow crops and raise animalsthey have a blacksmith, and a dedicated person to go and trade for them at a town, that person having the most skill at buying and selling.

The people in this village live together in large families. The children often go out to learn jobs in other towns as they grow, or manage the family business. Its rare to see a single new face in a month, let alone a group of people aside from adventurers or Runners now and then.

Oh yes, this world has adventurers and the weirdest postal service I can imagine. But what stands out to me in all of Durenes explanations is an oddlack of detail. Namely herself.

Durene doesnt live in the village. From what she says, the only other people who live alone are bachelors or bachelorettes or those who have lost their partners. But Durene is far too young to fit either criteria, and she tells me shes never met an adventurer, despite them being popular with all the kids.

I smell a rat. And Durene. She still smellsoff. If I met other people I might understand whats different about her, but until then I just keep the conversation going and tell her a bit about where I come from.

Thats me Laken Godart, blind son to two fairly affluent parents, one a lawyer, the other a businessman. Ive travelled more places than Durenes heard of, and Im blind. Thats a basic description, but the key to selling yourself is embellishment.

And all too soon, I find that Durenes big breakfast has affected me in another way. I clear my throat politely.

Uh, Durene? Can you help me get to the bathroom again?

Yes, its embarrassing to have to ask someone youve just met to help you out, but Im used to it. Dont want to walk into the ladies room now, do I? But then, theyve always been quite considerate the two times Ive done it by accident.

Anyways, its always easier if I ask for help, especially since any door could be the wrong one. And Durene is happy to help.

No problem. This wayoops! Let me just push this asidethe doors over here.

Shes very considerate. Normally people have a hard time directing me, but shes gotten the hang of it quite quickly. She lets me grab onto her armI can feel her muscles rippling every time she shiftsand she walks forwards at a reasonably fast pace.

Its not as if I have trouble moving around, and I can sense whether shes walking up an incline or stepping around something. Its natural to me, and once I explained that to Durene she got the trick of it quickly.

Her bathroom is an outhouse located outside of her home and a ways away from the stream. She has to wait at a respectful distance afterwards, but I dont take long. Theres only one problem.

Do you have any toilet paper? Uh, anything to wipe with?

Ill get some leaves!

Leaves? Hello? Durene?

It turns out toilet paper is a luxury so rare Durenes never heard of it before. But the leaves she gives me are serviceable, and my butt doesnt complain too much.

The outhouse is definitely an outhouse in the sense that I know theres no water below me as I toss the leaves down. But it smells nice; Durenes put some fragrant herb there to chase away the smells. I say as much as I leave.

Your home seems very nice, Durene. Im envious.

Its nothing special. Its really not. Itscrude.

I dont think so. But uh, do you have anywhere I can wash up? And some soap?

Soap?

It takes me a while to get across the basic idea of hygiene to Durene. Thats my first worry. But she boils some hot water for me and when Im reassured its not scalding, I use that.

You really need to wash your hands, Durene. In my world, countless people died in the past because they didnt keep themselves clean enough.

Really?

Its amazing, flattering, and humbling how Durene takes all my statements at face-value. I tell her about the Black Plague, and within minutes shes swearing up and down to buy some soap the next time someone goes into town.

Before I know it, its lunch-time. I could certainly use something to eat, and Durene takes me around the garden, letting me feel the growing plants and the bunch of potatoes she yanks up.

But then we hit a problem. Durene goes into the kitchen to cook them while I sit outside and listen. But after twenty minutes I know somethings wrong. I can hear her trying to be quiet, but the clattering and the burnt smell cant be so easily hidden.

Is everything okay? Durene?

IIm sorry.

Theres a catch in her voice when she comes out and tells me shes ruined the potatoes. I dont get it, but if there was a fire alarm in her house it would be blaring. She doesnt even let me inspect the ruined food; apparently its so burned she just dumped it outside for the pigs.

I cant cook potatoes. Im sorry. I normally eat them raw.

Well, we cant have that. Let me help you.

Help? But you

I cant see, but I can cook. Come on!

I reach out and touch her arm. Its a big arm, and she recoils instantly. But I soothe her and guide her back to the kitchen.

Its an odd thing, cooking while mainly instructing someone else. Odd, but fun. Only for me at first, but then Durene gets into it.

We make sauted potatoes. Its an easy recipe, but I have to show Durene how to cut properly at first. I hear her cut herself twice before I realize her form is off.

Like this, see? If youre cutting leaves like this rosemarydo it like this.

Durene gasps, but I place the knife at my knuckles and roll it across the cutting board, slowly slicing the herbs into small slices.

Easy as anything. Dont worry; even if you cant see, theres no way to cut yourself like this, see?

I do! Thats incredible!

Its not. Really. Now, lets get to work on the rest of those potatoes, okay?

Okay. The chopped potatoes arehere. We boil them?

Thats right. Is the water boiling? And you added the salt? Put them in. Theyll go there for about four minutes, okay? Now. Wheres the pan?

I put the oil in.

Now the potatoes. Flat side down. There. Doesnt that sound good?

The sizzling oil makes my stomach wake up. I smile as I hear Durene clumsily sliding the sliced potatoes around the pan.

Is it crispy golden brown? Okay, lets reduce the heat. Nowa bit of butter. Just a bitand the rosemarydoesnt that smell delicious?

It does! It does!

Success. We sit down and Durene eats her food as if its the best food shes ever had. Apparently, it is.

Ive never cooked anything like that before. Do you have a Skill? You must!

I wouldnt call it skill. I just learned from a great chef.

Thank you Gordon Ramsay. I might not be able to see them cook, but I do love chefs who tell me exactly what theyre doing.

Are you a [Chef]? Is that your class?

Thats an odd way of putting things. I shrug, a bit embarrassed.

I wanted to be a professional chef, and then a professional food critic when I was younger. I gave up on that when I found out someone else had already become blind Masterchef. And, it has to be said, Im not that good at cooking.

But this

Its not nearly as good as something professional chefs can make, believe me. And you did all the hard work.

You know so much, though.

I want to squirm a bit with embarrassment.

I just studied a lot of different professions, thats all. Chef, food criticat one point I wanted to be a billiards player, but thats not actually possible. I wanted to do anything that wasnt boring, so I tried a lot of things.

Thats so amazing. So much better than I am.

I think shes staring at me. I can feel her proximity towards me. Her voice is also much more intentshe sounds fascinated. I cant help but smile.

Youd be surprised what you can pick up if you work at it. Forget cookingI once disassembled and reassembled an old computer by hand. Thatslike a complicated device.

I wouldnt know. II only have the [Farmer] class.

There it is again. Class? I frown.

Classes? Do you mean jobs? You mean, you get assigned a job?

No. Im just a [Farmer]. Level 6. Do you not have classes in your world?

Oh wow.

Is it obvious? Did I not notice it because I cant see? But Durene assures me she doesnt have her class and level floating above her head like an MMORPG. Even so, my mind is blown because now I realize Im in a video game. Or something like a video game.

You mean, you played games with the fates of people?

No! It was all just pretend. But its exactly like how youre describing your world.

Oh.

We sit together, in her garden, talking. By this point Durene and I are comfortable enough to sit closer than before, and yes, she is tall. Im not short myself; apparently Im around 184 cm, or around 61 for people using the horrible US measuring system, but Durene is at least a head higher than I am. Possibly bigger; she hunches over as we talk.

And she is huge. And conscious of that; she treats me even more like a glass object than people who just know Im blind. I am grateful in her case, though; it does feel a bit like a giant is keeping me company.

Hmm. A giant?

One last detail: Durenes skin is rougher than normal. Her inside palm is fairly smooth, if callused, but the few times I brushed against the outside of her skin, it was surprisingly rough and even felt cracked in places.

Odd. But she is a great listener, and we sit together long into the night. I tell her stories, and she tells me of this world. Magic and adventurers and a gaming system.

Dinner that night is marinated mushrooms, again thanks to me marathon watching Ramsay videos. Its good that I remember so many vegetarian dishes; Durene likes meat, but it is apparently a rare delicacy for her, despite the pigs she introduced me to earlier today.

We dont have any vinegar, but Durenes garden is plentiful, and everything is so high quality that we barely need any seasoning to make it go down. Fresh water from the stream completes the meal, and Durene eats four times what I do. Good thing we made a lot.

Sometimes I wish I could see. I have no idea what it would be like, and usually I dont ever care. But when Im having a bad day or Im frustrated and wish things were easier, I wish I could see.

But now, I just want to see her face. Even though it seems like Durene is self-conscious about it.

I wonder why. I wonder as I tuck myself into her bed and listen to her snoring outside.

At least I know shes not a Troll. The ones from the Hobbit turn into stone in the morning, dont they? Maybe people just grow really big in this world.

Maybe. But shes still a good person, regardless.

Day 3

Apparently, one of Durenes obsessions is fish. Understandably so; she cant catch much game and she sells most of her pigs rather than eat them. Her occasional chicken only comes when one dies, and as Ive observed, she has trouble cooking even the most basic of meals.

But fish? Fish is hard to get wrong, and Durene has a crude fishing rod that she tries to catch fish at the stream with almost every day. Apparently, she has little success and I figure out why quite soon.

You need some bait that wriggles. Worms are better. And youre moving the line too much. Let the fish bite before you pull it out of the water. See? Patience is key.

Its amazing. But no ones ever taught Durene this, and she observes me fishing with rapt attention. I feel

I feel happy to teach her, and supremely annoyed no one ever taught her something as simple as this. Do people in her village not know how to fish?

Or is there another reason why she lives alone?

I get half my answer after I yank the second small fish out of the stream, much to Durenes delight. I hear voices, laughter; the sounds of several children. And then I hear the voices.

Freak! Come out, Freak!

Beside me, on the grass, Durene goes still. I pause, the crude clay mug Durene gave me half full as I scoop water out of the stream.

Where is she? Freak!

I hear merry laughter, running, shouts of joy at odds with the words and tone in the childrens voices. It doesnt take them long to find us.

Freak! Freaky freak! Frwhos that?

I turn my head as the sounds of running feet stop. I countedsix kids? All young; probably around ten. Mostly boys, although theres one girl in there. They pause uncertainly.

This is Laken. Hes a stranger to these parts.

Durene tries to explain. I smile and introduce myself, but the instant the children discover Im blind, respectfulness vanishes.

Hes blind!

A freak! Freaks gotta friend!

Freaks!

Is there something in the water here? Or is it just them? I frown at the kids.

Thats not a word you should be using about Durene.

But shes a freak!

One of the boys protests. Then I hear a yelp and the girl speaks.

I think he dont know. He cant see her!

Thats right!

More exclamations.

You should run, Mister! Durenell eat your heart out!

No I wont!

Aah! Run from the freak! Shes gone mad!

Durene stands up in anguish. And then I hear her yelp. Someones tossed a stone at her! I hear it plop into the stream.

Eat dirt, Freak!

Okay, mudballs. Another one flies. Durenes not doing anything to defend herself, so I stand up. The mug of water is still in my hands. For a second Im tempted to hurl it butthat wouldnt be right. The children go silent. What should I say?

Its nice to meet all of you. Cheers, mates.

I raise the mug of water in their general direction and then drink from it. Honestly, it tastes a bit like clay. I look at the kids, or rather, in their general direction I hope.

Now piss off.

Silence. I keep my face still. Ive never actually stared anyone in the eye mainly because I could miss, and I can barely keep my eyes open for a staring contest in any case. My eyes still get watery even if I cant see.

But I am good at holding still and remaining calm. The children arent. After a few more seconds I hear them retreat.

I sit back down next to Durene. Shes trembling.

You okay?

I keep my tone light as I reach for the fishing pole again. I cant find it, but then Durene silently presses it into my hands.

Do you know what I meant when I said cheers? Its an expression from another culture. It means, well, its something you say before you have a drink, or at a party.

Really?

Her voice is quivery, but it is curious. I nod and smile.

I met an Australian guy once who could make that word sound like a threat. He said it to a bunch of soldiers who were bothering us andwell, its not always polite. Its all about nuance, you see?

More silence. I hear Durene gulp.

IIm sorry. What they said

Is none of my concern. Those little wankers were being obnoxious anyways. Theyre too good to be called brats. Do they harass you often?

Its nice to know more than one culture. It helps when you want to add to your repertoire of insults. Durene laughs shakily, then goes quiet again.

Sometimes. I mean, they come by sometimes but they dont do more than throw things.

Like rocks?

Silence is my answer. I clear my throat.

Theyre miserable little monsters; dont listen to them. Anyways, theyre just kids, arent they? Cant you chase them off?

I couldnt do that! I might hurt someone, and then

She sounds genuinely shocked. And afraid. Is she worried about the mob of stereotypical farmers with pitchforks? But that had to come from somewhere. Maybe shes right to be passive.

Im sorry if I got you in trouble. But I couldnt stand by and let them harass you.

Its okay. I think. Yes, its okay. But Im surprised you werent angrier when they called you a freak. Youre not.

Again, her tone suggestswhat? Depression? Low self-esteem, certainly. But the clues arent all there yet, even if I know most of whats going on. As for meI shrug.

I used to be a lot angrier than this. But Ive gotten calmer now; I dont lose my temper that much. Ive been called names too.

Really?

I smile again, but this time with an edge.

Everyone gets called names. Im just an easier target since I cant see anything coming. Then again, I get it. When youre a kid, anything weird is a target. Anything different or scaryits easier to shout insults than get to know the person. That doesnt mean I think what those brats did was right, of course. Next time one of them calls you names, hit him. Or just call him names as well.

I couldnt hit anyone! And Im not good with insults.

What? Insults are easy. Come on, try one. Call me something.

II dont know. What would I even call them?

Unexploded pimple? Pitiful asshat? Cowardly mushroom? Insults can be anything you want them to be.

The laugh that comes out of Durene is more like a bark of amusement, but its genuine and real.

Tell you what. Lets grill up these fish and I can teach you some of the really pithy insults Ive heard of, okay? You might want to cover your ears though; some of them could make a sailor blush.

She laughs delightedly and I smile again. Its a better day, despite the kids. And the fish isnt even burnt this time.

Day 5

I find myself spending almost all my time with Durene day by day. Shes an open person and easy to talk to; she likes listening more than she likes speaking, but she can break down this strange world into easy-to-understand fragments for me.

Shes in the middle of giving me a history lesson about some version of Alexander the Great when I hear a shout. Im ready for the kids this time, but to my surprise, only one comes running.

Durene! The wagons lost a wheel! Come and lift it, our Da says!

What? The wagon? Im on my way!

Durene jumps to her feet with amazing agility, and then hesitates.

I have to go help, Laken. Will you be okay? I can take you there

Im fine. Go. Ill be okay until you come back.

Again, being blind is not like being porcelain. I let Durene run off with the kid and think of what to do. Twenty minutes later, Durene thunders back to the cottage looking for me.

Im fishing.

Durene. Youre back. Is everything okay?

She smells a bit of hay and some other animal scent. And a bit more of that musky odor thats probably her sweat. I hear her clear the stream in one jump.

Everythings fine. I helped Mister Prost with his wagon; thats all. The axle of the wheel broke, so he had Finnon go get me.

Huh. Do they always call on you for help? It seems like theyd need a team of people to move a busted wagon.

She shifts next to me. Uncomfortably? Its surprisingly easy to tell when someones hiding something even if you cant read their face.

Ohit wasnt that hard. I just had to help lift it up a bit, thats all.

She doesnt even sound winded. But she ran off and came back in less than ten minutes and helped a farmer put a new wheel on a wagon?

Odd. Odd, odd, odd, odd

You do repairs often, then? Thats pretty handy of you.

Well, I dont have a class. But if they need help lifting or, you know, raising a barn

Gotcha. So how bad is the damage?

Theyll have to fix it later, but it looks like it was just the axle that went. I just got the wagon back to their home so they could give old Evera a rest. Shes their plow horse and she gets tired quickly.

Okay, so she pulled a wagon which might or might not have been full of produce an unspecified distance. Hmm.

It could just be her class. Durene said she was a Level 6 [Farmer], but she has one [Enhanced Strength] skill already. Apparently that makes her way stronger than normal; when I asked her to demonstrate, she lifted me up with one hand as if I was a feather.

But the skin? And the things those kids said? What could that

Bah. What am I, a detective? The answer is no, because I can barely solve a Sherlock Holmes mystery, let alone figure out those stupid wire puzzles. And Durene deserves respect from me, if no one else.

Shell tell me when shes ready.

Day 6

I need a class.

That was what I told Durene when she woke up in the morning. I get up before she does; not that either of us are late sleepers. Were both morning people actually, although I tend to function just as well in the dark as in the light for obvious reasons.

But I do like to hear the birds sing and feel the sunlight on my face. I dont mind relaxing for an hour or two by myself in the mornings. As Zoe once told me, Im the chillest blind guy she knows, which is to say Im the only blind guy she knows. She knows a blind girlTeresa, but she and I dont get along.

I hate Teresa.

Durene is silent for a long moment after I tell her this. We made doughy crepes this morning and added some wild berries, but she stops eating them now.

Why?

Isnt it what people do in this world? You told me no one you know didnt have a class.

Thats true. But

I wait, yet no further thought comes. I explain myself while I try to see whats making her upset.

Ive put a lot of thought into it, and I need to have a class to survive in this world. I cant just rely on your goodwill forever.

But a classthat means youd go and get a job, right? Youdleave.

Oh. Oh. I feel like an idiot.

I dont want to be a burden, Durene. Im already making you sleep outside and now you have to feed two mouths.

Thats not a problem!

The table shifts as Durene moves. She apologizes, and then her tone changes, becomes more pleading.

I dont mind the grass! I dont! And you eat a lot less than I do. I wouldnt mind you staying! Ilike having you around.

What do I say? What do I do? Whatever it is, it must be something that wont break her tender heart.

You know I have a home, Durene, and a family. Theyre probably worried sick about me. I want to get back to them.

I can almost feel her drooping at the other side of the table. I clear my throat and go on.

But I do enjoy staying here with you. If youre sure I wont be a burden, Id love to stay here. I just mentioned a class because its fascinating, really.

Youll stay here? Youre sure?

Its not pathetic how eager she sounds, how hopeful. Its heartbreaking. Who left this girl alone? I nod.

I doubt there are many jobs for a blind person in your world anyways. Unless I can learn magic? Id love to learn that.

I dont know. Ive heard of spellbooks, but I dont know if mages learn any other way.

I make a face, mildly outraged as I eat more crepe. Even in this world Im handicapped by a lack of braille books? And I very much doubt theres any kind of audio spellbook.

Well, that ideas out. I guess Ill have to sleep on it.

Then I have another idea. I suggest it to Durene as I help her wash the pottery dishes. She doesnt use soap, but hot water works pretty well. She can tolerate the heat far better than I, though. But her hands are clumsier, so we both work slow.

Why dont you show me around your village?

Durene nearly drops the cup shes holding. I push it back into the bucket of water just in time; the splash gets water all over my clothes.

Whats wrong? I havent introduced myself, and Im sure theyre curious about me.

II wouldnt want to bother you.

Its fine. I like meeting people. Besides, I have to meet them sooner or later, dont I?

I guess.

Day 8

It takes me two more days for me to convince Durene to take me into the village. She resists, stonewallsnot so much out of reluctance to visit on her behalf, but for fear of how the villagers will treat me, I think.

And how do the villagers treat me?

With kindness.

Oh, they knew a stranger had moved into Durenes house, but no one had come by. I think they were more apprehensive than curious, and Durene herself might have told them to steer clear before then. It isnt as if we are always together; she made several trips into the village prior to my arrival, and I can only speculate I was the topic of gossip.

When Durene finally lets me into the village, I hear a few mutters, but Prost, the [Farmer] who Durene had helped out a few days ago, is the first to shake my hand.

Youve got a fine grip, son. Youd be a good farmer.

Ah, but Id keep trying to milk the bull, and that wouldnt end up well for anyone, would it?

A joke, a laugh, and I change from the scary unknown to someone approachable, even likeable. One mother smacks her son for calling me names, and soon Im introducing myself as a traveler from far off, sidetracked by a spell and relying on Durene for help.

That bit of fiction is met by approval from all the villagers, but later on Prost takes me aside as Durene helps lift a few kegs for one of the farmers.

I wouldnt say much about Dureneshes a good helper in times of need, but shes a bit

She seems like a nice, normal young woman to me. Wouldnt you agree?

I shut him down in an instant. I dont want to know. Not from him. Not from someone who isnt Durene whos chosen to tell me. That ends the conversation; its awkward for a few moments until I ask about farming around here. Turns out that these farmers have quite the variety of crops, and theyre fascinated when I talk about greenhouses and crop rotation. Some high-level [Farmers] have Skills that approximate those effects, and soon Im actually giving out vague advice on farming techniques I half-remember. Too bad I cant give them a combine harvester.

Durene hovers around me anxiously at first, but then relaxes as time went by. The other villagers treat herwell, I guess. They have a huge mug of milk for her, and she helps drag a huge tree that had fallen out of the way. But

We leave the village after several hours, with invitations for me to call on various families for a meal and conversation. I can tell stories about the places Ive been to if I omit the parts that they wouldnt understand, and in this small village Im the equivalent of a celebrity, or a novelty.

The villagers like me. I think I can say that with confidence. They think Im kind, charming, and okay, mad as a loon. But Farmer Prosts wife Yesel gives me a basket full of goods to take back to Durenes homeor rather, she gives Durene that, and I met a good deal of people that day. All in all it was a success.

I just wonder why they dislike Durene so. Or maybe not dislike? Shes clearly known them all her life. But theres a wall between her and them, and no matter how kindly the villager are towards her and no matter how hard she tries to be as helpful and meek as possible, they still keep their distance from her. I hear it in their tones and observe it through their actions.

It makes me hate them, just a little.

Day 11

I woke up knowing what class Id have. I was so antsy that over breakfast I nearly put my hand on the frying pan in distraction. I broke the news to Durene as we ate cheese on scrambled eggs; neither of us could do omelettes.

I think Ill become an [Emperor]. Do you know if I have to declare that? Or is it just doing something that gives you the class?

Durene choked on her eggs and I had to listen to her splutter for a while before any coherent words came out.

Thats impossible! Laken! What are you saying?

Im going to be an [Emperor]. It seems like the easiest class for me to take, and perhaps Ill gain some useful skills.

Honestly, it was the first class that came into my mind as a viable option. But Durene told me flat out it was impossible. I told her she was wrong.

You can be an [Emperor], Durene. You can, and I can.

Its not possible! To do thatyoud need a kingdom, and a palace and white horse andand

Her voice trails off, unable to even describe my folly. I can only smile.

But you can, Durene. I know of a man, an ordinary man, who became an Emperor. All by himself, although he was poor and he had no palace or horse.

Really? Who?

Theres skepticism, but curiosity and eagerness in her voice in equal measure. She always loves stories from my world. This one puts a grin on my face even as I speak.

He was known as Emperor Norton the 1^st of America. He was a real man who became an Emperor just by calling himself one. I always loved his story.

Emperor? But you said America has no rulers. Only someone with the [President] class.

My explanations of how my world works might have gotten a bit jumbled. I shake my head.

Thats true. But Norton didnt care what the rules were. One day, he declared himself Emperor. And he lived and died acting as one.

Its an amazing story, and one I have to struggle to do justice to. How can I explain to Durene the tale of Joshua Norton, a failed businessman who one day woke up and sent letters to every newspaper in San Francisco proclaiming himself as the Emperor of the United States?

Well, sort of like that, actually.

He made proclamations and sent orders to the armynone of which were ever obeyedand he even made his own money. I know it sounds ridiculous, Durene, and Ill just bet youre smiling, but heres the crazy thing: it worked! The people let him go around calling himself Emperor, and in time they began treating him like one.

They didnt.

They did. Not all of course, but he eventually made his own money and became known throughout the city. The people of San Francisco accepted his currency, and he dined in the finest restaurants and went to famous plays in the theater where they would hold a seat for him. When he died, over thirty thousand people went to his funeral.

Durene listens in silence, rapt with attention. I can only imagine it myself. His story captured my heart.

Some say he was a madman. And maybe he was; he probably was, honestly. But he also dared to dream. And thats something Ive always admired about him.

He dared to dream. There are worse things to be remembered by. And unlike the rich businessmen and famous stars and politicians of the day, Norton I is still marked in history as the first and only Emperor of the United States. It may seem funny to most people, but I think hes the one laughing in the end.

If one man can declare himself Emperor, I dont see why I cant follow suit. Kings might be born to rule, but the first kings were just men with an army who made themselves crowns. I might not have an army, or a crown, but its worth a shot.

Maybe.

As impressed as she is by the story, I can hear the doubt oozing from Durenes every word. But I just grin.

Im in another world, Durene, and from what youve said, classes rule this place. Why not take one of the best ones if I can? So. You can be my witness.

I stand up dramatically, praying I dont hit anything by accident as I gesture grandly.

Hear my words, that they may be passed down for posterity. On this day, I, Laken Godart, declare myself Emperor of the Unseen, sovereign lord and ruler of all I survey. Not only Emperor; I declare myself Protector of Durenes House as well.

For a second I hold the pose, and then hear Durene giggle. It sounds amazing coming from her deep voice. I smile and sit back down.

You cant do that! What if someone heard you?

Well, then Id demand that they show me the proper respect I deserve. And ask for their taxes. You owe me a tithe, I believe. I demand your finest crepe as your [Emperor].

Giggling like a girl, Durene passes me one. I eat it with an air of triumph, and tell her several more jokes that make her laugh.

And thats good. That alone is worth the crazy attempt. But as I sleep that night, I cant help but think that it would be nice if I could be [Emperor]. Id make the world a better place, or at least, try to.

Id like to hear Durene laugh a lot more, and make it so she never has to cry herself to sleep another night.

In my heart, as I let sleep overtake me, I do believe I could do it. I believe. Thats what I learned to do. I believe I can be something more than people expect of me.

My eyes close. I breathe out. And then I hear a voice in my mind.

[Emperor Class Obtained!]

[Emperor Level 1!]

[Skill Aura of the Emperor obtained!]

Das war ja einfach!

Day 12

Durene is in a state of panic; Im calm.

Sort of calm. Im freaking out, but in a good way. Durenes just freaking out.

I blink as she tromps past me, nearly hitting my leg. Her voice is strained as talks out loud.

It cant be! You dont have any fancy clothes! How can you be anan[Emperor]? It doesnt make sense!

I dont know. But I do know, at the same time. I sit up straight. I cant tell how this new Skill Ive received works, but I feel a bitdifferent. A bit more secure in myself. I was right. I dreamed, and I was right.

Durene. Is an [Emperor] simply defined by his clothes? A king is still a king in rags, after all. It may sound silly, but in this world people become what they believe, I think. You havent become a [Cook] because you dont think you can be one. But I? I think I can do anything I want to. And I think you can too.

She stops mid-step. I can sense her facing me.

II have to go. I have togo.

She practically knocks the door down trying to get away. I sit and think in her house, trying to figure out what it means. Something. What can an [Emperor] do? What could my skills do? Is it even practical? How can I get home?

Someday, I want to go home. Even if Durene is here, I

I need to find my family again.

When the door opens again, Durene comes in silent, but no longer panicking. She avoids the topic of my class and I do too, at least for a bit.

You have a nice home, Durene. But Id love to visit a town someday, or a city.

She hesitates.

II want to, too. But its tricky

I dont ask why. Instead I just nod.

Youve said there are other continents in this world, filled with all kinds of different species.

Yes.

Where are we? What continent are we on?

Izril. Were on Izril.

Huh. Sounds almost familiar.