Chapter Two

  First Steps

  ?

  The hum of a dozen conversations returned to the Mind's Mirror, in the back corner Rep raised a mug and winked at Freya. It was hard to tell whether she liked or hated that guy.

  At the bar a man with pointed ears and a fine vest was pouring drinks in exchange for strips of paper. Elves? They had elves here too? Freya became far more interested in all the bar's patrons.

  A man with etched white gloves like Colonel Mustang from Fullmetal Alchemist lit a pipe with a flame on the end of his finger.

  So it wasn't just fantasy novels people recreated here. Freya looked for more recognizable equipment or outfits. After only a moment she spotted the pale glow of the Moonlight Greatsword from Dark Souls resting against a table beside a figure in full plate armor.

  A warm sense of excitement built up within her. She had dreamed of existing in all kinds of fantastical worlds for as long as she could remember. Now here she was, in a sort of amalgamation of all the things she loved. There was so much more than that, as many of the people around her sported outfits she only vaguely recognized. But it felt as if this place was created for her all the same.

  Most interesting to Freya was a woman showing off a sword to a table of her friends, it shined brilliantly in the lamplight. On its hilt was an engraving in what appeared to be Tolkien's elvish script. Freya looked back at the elf working the bar, with his snappy vest and chipper smile. He certainly wasn't an elf of Middle Earth. How did it all work?

  A gruff looking man spilled a cup on his table, froze the liquid with a touch, then scooped the ice back into his cup. Magic was real. What was the source? What could it do? She could sit in here watching these people all day trying to glean some answers. All the more reason to get a move on.

  Freya made her way through the rest of the tavern, passing another barkeeper on the opposite side of the room she emerged from. Another large group of tables split around the central walkway leading to two heavy wooden doors. The exit.

  She swung the door open and walked out into a serene forest overlooking a lake, or at least she figured it was a lake. It was too big for her to see the other side, but salt water had a very distinctive smell. Granted, this world could have fresh water oceans, who knows?

  The wonder was intoxicating. This is why she loved to read so much. The joy at exploring a new world really couldn't be matched.

  The Gardener had said something that she didn't pay much attention to at first. This was the Created Realm of Fantasy. Was there one for each genre? Could they be traveled between? What determined who went where? Was there a video game realm too?

  Freya looked back at the Tavern, a large sign hung from a wooden post outside. It read The Mind's Mirror. Below the words were two quill pens crossed in front of a sword with a curved hilt.

  The road forked three ways in front of the tavern. A ramshackle wooden sign stood at the crossroads with an arrow pointing in each direction. Straight ahead lead down the hill toward the lake, the sign read The Gate. The path to the left read Sarehole, then below that in smaller letters read The Bygone League. The path to the right was marked The Bluffs. Rep seemed adamant about avoiding that place.

  Certainly not right then.

  Unfortunately empty pockets encouraged Freya to head down to the lake, she needed to get equipped and earn some money.

  A small town appeared in the distance as she made her way down the forested hill the Mind's Mirror was situated on. Several large ships were passing through some kind of blockade and down the river. Something about this all seemed terribly familiar. She walked long enough for her feet to start hurting before she figured it out.

  H.A. Sulivar's book, A Break in the Ways. There was a small town on a river draining out of a lake. That small town was called The Gate by passersby because of their toll system.

  Son of a bitch. Sulivar's work was as unoriginal as it was lame.

  #

  ?

  The Gate was much larger than Freya had initially guessed. There weren't many people, but their lodgings were massive. Four and five story buildings were the norm. With some of the largest buildings reaching even higher.

  The whole town consisted of a row of houses, a needlessly large road, another row of houses, and finally another large road that traveled alongside the beach. Where the lake met the river the setup of the town

  changed, the road led to a large square in which people were gathered. Surrounding the square were all manner of shops and other entertainment.

  A man sat inside a booth with a large sign. Mind reader, will work for words. That was more than a little disturbing, things weren't all sunshine and rainbows here evidently.

  Freya strolled into the square casually as she could manage given her excitement, and took a look at a wooden board a few people were crowded around. When she saw its contents, she started absolutely buzzing.

  Several sheets of paper and signs were pinned to the board. It was a quest board, like in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign.

  Band of thieves wanted for the theft of priceless oar. Reward, two silvers. A ridiculously detailed sketch of the oar was pinned below the first posting.

  Brick the Clever stole my chickens, teach him a lesson and a gold piece is yours.

  Ship inspectors wanted. Wage is one silver a week. Valorians need not apply.

  One paragraph for any information leading to the discovery of the Enthusiast's identity in the Source Realm.

  Silvers, gold, paragraphs. Each was some kind of currency, silvers made sense. But words and paragraphs? That was confusing. Back in the Mind's Mirror they were handing each other strips of paper, she had initially assumed that was was just paper currency in the modern sense.

  It would have been nice if the Gardener gave her a little bit more information past 'figure it out'. Freya grabbed the paper on Brick the Clever, it seemed the most straightforward of the bunch.

  Details on Brick's usual spots were included on the reverse. She stuffed the paper in her pocket and searched for the tavern mentioned within. The Gargling Goat. The name didn't give her high hopes.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Tucked away from all the nice houses was a collection of rather rough looking tenement buildings on a marshy part of the lake's coast. Central to the slum was a number of small drinkhouses. These establishments didn't even have signs, instead their names were painted on the front of the buildings in big black letters. A few didn't even have doors.

  This was a remarkably bad idea, she didn't even have a weapon, and she realistically didn't know much about fighting aside from poking people with a bendy sword. But still, she needed some money, and a gold piece seemed like a fair start.

  Freya looked around, just realizing she had wandered into the seediest part of the first town she found. Rep had told her not to act like she was invincible, though this wasn't much different from how she behaved in the

  real world. The memory of being fired earlier in the evening bubbled up, she shoved it back down, delivering pizzas always ate up her weekends anyway, she could find something better.

  Freya did have a habit of diving into messes face first. Why should this be any different?

  Something about this place felt odd, she had walked through rough neighborhoods before while visiting San Francisco. There it was easy to tell that she was getting eyed up.

  But here, most people looked at her with warmth. A few folks tipped their ratty hats or gave a quick nod as they walked by. Was she just judging these people because things were a little dirty and cramped?

  A deep breath calmed her. She unfolded the posting and read over it. The rear listed a few 'acceptable' methods for exacting revenge on this Brick guy.

  Beat the tar out of him. Freya tried to imagine what that might look like, after a couple scenarios ending with her being beaten into a pulp, she discounted that option.

  Steal something of value from him. Petty theft wasn't exactly the first thing she was looking to do after venturing out on her own. The idea of someone advertising their desire to steal from someone else made her raise

  an eyebrow. Was there any kind of law here? Shouldn't the authorities have shut that down?

  Publicly humiliate him. A little mean-spirited, but it was the least offensive of the options presented.

  Freya put away the posting, then walked through the hanging strips of leather that acted as the door to The Gargling Goat. Surprisingly the pleasant smell of quality ale and salted meat hit her as she entered the bar. The bartop was broken in places, patched together with mismatching bits of wood. The stools were rickety and seemed to be in distress under the weight of their occupants.

  There weren't many people in here, three not counting her. The barkeep gave her a polite nod and extended a hand toward the open stool at the center of the bar. She held up a hand as if to say Just a minute. Then

  walked to the near end of the bar where a man matching the image of Brick was sitting.

  He was tall, with wide shoulders and a full head of thick blonde hair. He aggressively sipped on his mug. Freya took a look at the situation, rickety stool, counter full of drinks in front of him. This was going to be easy.

  "Are you Brick?" Freya asked, taking a careful step beside him.

  "Aye."

  No time to waste. Freya kicked out the back leg of the stool. Rather then falling backwards, the stool crumpled straight down beneath his weight, sending him to the floor in a heap of broken wood.

  "THIS IS FOR-" She swiped her arm across the counter sending a half dozen lined up drinks, and a bowl of dipping sauce spilling on top of the man. "THE CHICKENS!" Freya looked back at the barkeep and his other patron who were starting at her, their mouths agape. "Sorry."

  Freya dashed out of the bar and back toward the center of town, her boots slapping against the hard dirt. A few hasty looks over her shoulder confirmed that Brick wasn't coming after her. Once she was back in the pristine portion of The Gate, she pulled the posting from her pocket again. The note on collecting the reward read, I can be found at the fish market most days. Ask for Eldrin.

  The fish market was easy to find, it was on the far side of the town square closest to the ocean. It was a fairly complex wooden stand reminiscent of a food truck. A large sign on the top simply read Fish. Freya took a step up and a portly man with an impressive goatee looked down at her from the window.

  "What'll it be?"

  "Is Eldrin here?" Freya asked. She took a quick look around for any eavesdroppers, then showed him the posting.

  The man chuckled. "That'll be me! Rat bastard that one. Did you do it? You look a little small to take on a man that size."

  "I didn't quite fight him, just knocked him out of his seat and spilled some crap on him."

  Eldrin shrugged. "I'll take it." He fished into a bag beside the window and produced a half-dollar sized gold coin. It was stamped with a crude rendition of a balding man circled in a script she didn't recognize. "That'll be yours."

  As Freya took it, a little boy ran around the side of the shack and in through it's back door. He whispered something to Eldrin who furrowed his brow at her. Freya balled her fists, unsure what he was thinking. Then he burst into a full throated belly laugh. Freya stayed frozen in place, unsure whether to run or hide.

  "You screamed at him about chickens, then dumped Ythelmaran Fire Paste on his head?"

  Freya's cheeks flushed. "I did."

  "By the Poet, here's another, the fool will never live it down." Eldrin proffered another piece of gold, which Freya took without hesitation. "You ought to make yourself sparse, when Brick sobers up in a few hours he will be out here looking for you."

  With the warning Eldrin turned back to filleting a strange orange fish. Laughing as he did. Freya found a small bench to sit on in a quiet corner of the square. She turned over the second gold coin in her hand. This one was a bit smaller, and of an entirely different style. The coin had ridges carved in the edge like a modern coin, and this one depicted a cloaked woman. The detail on this one was quite a bit better too. On the reverse was a farmer's scythe with a few words filling the blank space. To Freya's suprise, they were in English.

  The Wasp, forever a wretch, never the craven.

  That made absolutely zero sense. It seemed to praise this figure in one breath and insult them with the next.

  A shout caught Freya's attention, a still thoroughly drenched Brick barreled toward her with a large chunk of broken stool in hand.

  Oh hell.