“My name?” I replied blankly. Arilyn’s bouncy, friendly nature and dimpled smile rendered me speechless. As well as her latching on to me the way she had. In that moment, I was neither smooth nor sophisticated. Not a “James Bond” in any respect, and not just because I hadn’t dated anyone for a while. Honestly, I was putty in her soft hands. “Sorry, I’m Finn. I…”

  “Finn? What an interesting name! Where are you from, with a name like that?” she cooed.

  I had felt a strange and overwhelming desire to tell her everything that she wanted to know. She was so interested in me. The way her green eyes shone as she smiled at me made me want to impress her. And, well, I was really attracted to her. She was the kind of girl I usually liked. On the shorter side, with curly hair and a button nose. And she was rather curvy. Blood rushed to my face as my mind focused on how desperately I wanted her. How I wanted to tell her everything.

  “Minneapolis. Well, I was born in Denver, but my parents moved us to Minneapolis for their work when I was ten,” I replied quickly.

  “Minnie polis? I don’t think I’ve… Oh, you’re from that other world! How exciting!” she exclaimed and leaned forward with interest.

  “Well, yes, it could have been if I had any choice in the matter,” I replied honestly. I took a sip of my wine, my mouth suddenly dry.

  “Tell me all about it! I’ve never talked to anyone from there. And you're so handsome!” she asserted. She practically bubbled with excitement, placing her hand upon my arm and fluttering her eyelashes.

  If I had been a little more sophisticated by any world’s standards, I would have been aware of how she was plying me for information, taking advantage of her beauty and my reactions to gather knowledge and stories. She played me like a harp. Plucking my strings in the right way, getting me to give her whatever she wanted. But there was something beyond just her beauty and charisma too. Something I couldn’t put a finger on.

  Of course, I told her everything I could about home. All about college, the campus and the thousands of other students, the student union building where I would sometimes study or unwind before I went home. I told her about my brother and mother. I explained movies to her and described the traffic in the city. She kept touching me and keeping my wine cup full, urging me on with gasps of wonder and continued questions. I could have talked to her all night, just to gaze into her eyes. To lose myself in their depths.

  Arilyn was such a good listener, hanging on my every word. My train of thought was derailed whenever she licked her lips or laughed at a stupid joke. I drank more, my judgement getting further impaired. My thoughts turned to making a life with her, starting that night, and I was about to ask her out when she put her finger to my lips. And it devastated me when she stood up.

  “Oh, don’t worry, love! I will return before you turn around twice. Just going to get us more wine,” she said, laughter in her voice as she walked off with a sway in her hips. I watched her until she disappeared among the wagons. Once she was out of sight, there was a sudden washing away of… something.

  I noted the oddity and instead of focusing on it, I concentrated on leveling up from the fight with the quillotes while waiting. It took me a few tries to get my head in the right space, despite the strange clarity. From what I could tell, there was almost enough experience energy to go up two levels. I hit level 8, putting both my points into endurance to raise my health points to 162. My mana went up 10 points with the new level. The big thing was I needed more health so that I wouldn’t come so close to dying the next time I was in a fight like that. And armor. I needed armor. I remembered after allocating my points that I was supposed to put them in dexterity and intelligence, as Juan had told me, but I was drunk and didn’t care at the moment.

  After I finished my leveling, I looked around for Arilyn. I didn’t see her anywhere, but noticed the leader of the entertainers, a matronly woman with kind eyes, watching me intently. She sat apart from the shenanigans of her troop, lounging on a large, thick rug covered in pillows. The troupe leader surprised me by motioning me over. I hesitated for a moment, but left my spot near the fire to see what she wanted. I hoped it wouldn't take too long as I wanted to spend more time with Arilyn.

  The older woman gestured for me to sit down on the pillow-covered rug. “You’re a curious young man, wearing clothes like that. Yet you carry a blade longer than a knife. Are you a Fighter of some sort? A Rogue, maybe?” she asked, pouring herself more wine before narrowing her eyes. “Or are you a Mage, young man? Are you one of those poor souls?”

  Her line of questions and tone did not sound like curiosity to me—they were more pointed. I should have been more careful, but I was rather impaired at that point. “I’m a Mage, ma’am. But I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just picked Mage because of my brother.”

  “Your brother, hmm? Is he also a Mage?” she asked, cocking her head slightly to the side.

  “Er, um, no. He’s a nerd. I mean, he really likes fantasy things and—I’m not making any sense, am I?” I finished, abashed and guilty.

  She let out a sudden laugh at my fumbling and discomfort. It removed any worry I had, as if she had been able to just wash it away with her mirth. Again, I should have suspected something. She spoke to me in a pleased tone, like a parent whose child had done something well. “Oh, I understand. So you knew nothing of classes or anything here and you just… chose because your brother liked Mages?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “I—yes, that’s exactly why! My brother knows a lot more about this stuff than I do. I just want to survive; get back to him and my normal life.” I really felt I could tell her everything and she would have understood.

  “Have they told you about Mages in this world, Finn? Do you know what they are like, the people who became Mages?” she asked meaningfully.

  Wait, what? There were implications there that made me nervous. I frowned. “Not really. Juan told me about a Mage who saved his life. But she, the Mage, died a while ago,” I replied helpfully.

  “Very interesting; that would be a tale I would like to hear. Would you like me to tell you a story, Finn? That’s what I do. I tell stories, important ones. And for a favor, I could tell you one of those stories that could make many things clear to you. What do you think, Finn? A Tale to go with this wine?”

  I brightened up. Since she was a professional storyteller, and had just refilled my cup, who was I to say no? If that was how she wanted to be paid, well, I could do that. “A favor for a story sounds like a fair price,” I replied eagerly.

  She smiled. “Then a Deal is struck between us,” the troupe leader replied. She sipped her wine before clearing her throat. When she began, her voice was full of gravitas: “A long time ago, long before your grandparents were born, there was another young man who came to this world. He was kind, yet ambitious. He had big plans back home to become a leader in his country. With those plans ruined, he embraced being here as an opportunity more than a curse. He studied the classes offered, asking several questions. When the Voice told him the Mage class could make him more powerful than any of the other choices provided, he jumped at the chance,” exclaimed the storyteller, with a sharp gesture.

  I sipped my wine, listening intently. I opened my mouth to ask a question, but she silenced me with a raised eyebrow. It spoke volumes, that eyebrow. With the weight of eminent authority, it made me never want to interrupt her or any storyteller.

  She leaned back a little, smiling. “At first, he was very helpful to the people and communities he came across, tackling problems they could not. The more his power grew, however, the more he craved,” she said gravely. She then touched the side of her nose. “Some magic is like that, you know. The way it feels for certain types of magic users is almost euphoric. At that point, the people he would once have helped stopped looking like people to him and more like resources. It was not long before he decided he should just take what he wanted.”

  She frowned, sipping some wine. “This Mage, with his changed worldview, went to the King and gave him a choice. Either step down and hand the kingdom over, or die horribly through torture. The King had never been talked to in this way and was inclined to tell his guards to throw the Mage out.”

  I sat forward, more interested in the story than in my wine.

  The storyteller threw up her hands and shook her head. “But he had heard the stories. He could sense the power of the Mage. In fear for his life, the King gave his crown to the Mage, who killed him slowly anyway. Just because he could,” she said darkly.

  This was not going the way I had expected, and before I had formed a question in my mind, she silenced me with an absent-minded gesture before continuing.

  “The Mage used the resources of the kingdom to gain knowledge and wealth at the expense of his new subjects. He forced the people to give him anything he wanted. He took the wives and daughters that caught his eye and killed all who displeased him.”

  The pillows I sat on and the surrounding air suddenly felt cold, unyielding. I set my cup down and drew my knees to my chest, like I was a lost child.

  Her countenance grew dark and foreboding. “The Mage grew fat in his greed. His desire for power led him to invade other countries and begin his bloody rule over an empire. It was not long before the unconquered kingdoms, trying to save themselves from the Mage's wrath, brought gifts and offered their princesses for his enjoyment. He styled himself the emperor and was well on his way to creating a world of darkness, fulfilling his every whim and dark desire.”

  She paused and looked down her nose at me, and I felt the horror and fear of what she'd told me. “His greedy nature eventually led to his downfall. To this day, no one knows who, but someone poisoned several cases of wine given to him in tribute. The Mage-emperor delighted in the vintages and consumed many with his women and favored sycophants during a night of feasting and debauchery. All died horribly. After his death, assassins hunted down and killed every child he fathered over the next year. It was a horrible end to a terrible time. The people had learned yet again to fear Mages,” she uttered, regret in her voice.

  “This was not the first or the last time a Mage became hungry for power,” she continued. "The reason that Mages always go mad is a mystery. Whether it is the type of person who chooses to be a Mage or something with the magic itself, I do not know. Perhaps there is a serpent or a demon that comes to corrupt each Mage. Perhaps not,” the storyteller ended, looking at me with sympathy.

  She was silent for a long time. When she spoke again, it was no longer in such a dramatic voice. “There you go, young Finn the Mage. A cautionary tale that may make more sense later, but you should know that you walk a dangerous path. It’s been more than a generation since the last Mage threatened the world. You are the first to choose it without knowing what it was. At least, the first that I know of,” she reflected.

  She smiled warmly at me then, leaning forward and cupping my cheek. “Well, Finn. A favor you owe me, but not tonight. Go back to the fire, to the young woman whose fancy you’ve caught. Soon the minstrels will pull out their instruments, and you don’t want to miss that!” she said with a final pat on my cheek.

  I stood up and looked again at the reclining storyteller. “Thank you…. Uh, ma’am? I never caught your name.”

  She chuckled and tossed her hair. “Usually when young men ask me my name, they have to pay for it with yet another favor. But I like you,” she replied with a sparkle in her eyes. “I am called Missana the Storyteller. You may call me Missana. Now go before I require more of you!” she exclaimed, waving me away playfully.

  Her name made me pause for a moment before I moved away. I had heard the name before, but I couldn't place where or in what context. It was like the memory was there, but something was preventing me from accessing it. I raised my cup to my lips, and it hit me: I was drunk. I shook my head. Maybe I'll remember later or in the morning, I thought as I continued back through the camp to where I had been sitting.

  To my delight, on my way back I spotted Arilyn waiting for me. I grinned and hurried back to girl with bright eyes and sunlit curls.

  Not everything is that bad, though. This Arilyn seems pretty neat, and somewhat taken with our fledgling Mage.