It was a dark and stormy night, perfect. The thunder and rain drowned out my footsteps as I approached the keg. At this time of night everybody in the Silver Bell would be asleep. My bare feet barely made a noise against the cold stone flooring. As much as I'd liked to wear my boots, I didn't want to take any chances. Grabbing a clean mug the size of a pint from the counter I poured the ale as gently as I could into it. God the foam, the aroma, and most of all the buzz, it'd all be better after a couple drinks. Who cared about some damn idea that kids couldn't have drinks, I wasn't even a kid! That damn barkeep never let me drink anything besides plain old water, hell he wasn't even as old as me.
This body, this damn body's been nothin’ but trouble. No booze, no pipe smoking, not even knives, cigarettes didn't even exist here. Ever since coming to Ennath it's been restriction after goddamn restriction, all thanks to her. That little girl I saw in the mirror, the girl that couldn't cut her hair ‘cause she's not allowed to hold a damn knife, the girl that's not even real. Elongated teeth, fangs that pierce into my lips if I'm not careful. Scales on my joints, taunting me, letting me know that I'm not even human anymore. Those eyes that could see in the dark like a cat's, slits instead of the orbs that should've been there. Worst of all was the tail, a smooth dark green scaled thing that ran down to my heels with five spikes coming out of the end. Sometimes I could feel it brush my skin with its strange texture causing me to shiver, and I couldn't do anything to stop it, I barely had any control over it. I needed a break from all the madness, and this drink was my ticket out of here, if only for a short while.
At first it was a sip, I let the taste linger in my mouth, bitter sweetness at last, then I began to guzzle it down my throat. Before I realized it I was already halfway done the tankard, yet somehow I didn't even feel a light buzz. Downing the entire left me without any satisfaction, is their excuse for beer in Ennath? The ale must've been watered down, I just needed to drink more, the amount I rightfully deserved.
I sat there behind the counter, drinking to my heart's content. One tankard, then two and three, I held the fourth with shaky hands, I was full from the other three drinks and I felt nothing, absolutely nothing. As if the only thing I'd drank tonight was a glass of water. Dropping the mug I finally realized something.
“It's not real ale is it?” Muttering the words I knew I was right. There was no other explanation, of course it wasn't real, if it was I'd be blacked out by now an-
“It's real kid.” Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by a voice beyond the counter, gruff, firm, and definitely annoyed.
Getting up and peeking over the counter I saw a man covered neck down in dark leather armor with an accompanying black shawl, he had black hair with dark brown eyes, Kael. The getup would've looked ridiculous back on Silt but here on Ennath every dozenth person I saw outside the tavern looked the exact same. He was just sitting there at a table in the middle of the room with his own tankard and flagon, although he currently had his arms crossed on his chest.
“Oh uh, hey Kael, what are you doing this late?” I tried to deflect from the obvious, changing the topic the best I could. As much as I wanted to trust him I barely knew the man.
“Oh just watching little girls do things they shouldn't be doing.” There couldn't be more sarcasm on Ennath to put into his words.
“You know damn well I'm an adult. Besides the ales not even real, it's just watered down piss.” Kael scowled at me the moment I uttered that final word.
“That watered down piss cost me a couple dozen silver for your folk. You owe me.” Now that got on my nerves. Owe him? What made him think I owed him anything?
“My folk? I haven't met a single person from Silt. They're all from Terra or Gaia, or some other world named after dirt! And that food? It's been nothing but lukewarm porridge for a week straight! I don't owe you a damn thing.”
The moment that final sentence left my mouth I regretted it. In a blink Kael was right in front of me. An involuntary whimper came out as I craned my neck up to catch his face. He towered over me being nearly twice my new height.
“You would be dead without me, without this tavern, and without that porridge. I say your tab is very much due. In fact I think it's time you paid up.” His words were harsh and firm, like he was scolding a child. All I could do was stand there, memories resurfaced of all to similar events.
“You are going on a job tomorrow.” He jabbed his finger at me, causing me to flinch my head away, thankfully he didn't actually make contact with me. “And all the coin you make goes back to me. Understood?”
“Y-yes Ma- Sir.” My words were jumbled up from decades old muscle memory, my mother's teachings. Usually I'd yell back, but in this body, this frail useless thing all I could do was cower.
“What was that?” I knew he heard me but couldn't bring myself to correct him, the consequences were still engraved in my mind even if they weren't on my body anymore.
“Yes sir!” This time I made sure to enunciate my words clearly, it'd been years since I'd spoken with my mother.
“Good, now get some rest, you'll need it.” He gave me a small grin and a pat on the back, the tension in the air all but evaporated.
Trudging back to my room on the second floor I realized the implications of Kael’s demands. What the hell had I signed up for?
—
Knock… Knock…
My eyes fluttered awake as I heard the rapping of two distinct knocks on my door. The sun's rays always had the perfect angle to blind my eyes in the morning despite the fact that there was a building six feet away from my room. Birds were yelling their hearts out and the waterfall distantly rang into my ears.
“Miss Mikayla? Sir Kael told me you'll be my partner today.” The voice behind the door was male and definitely young, maybe late teens or even early twenties if I stretched it. Besides I wasn't a girl, I couldn't be a girl.
“Wrong room buddy! My name's Michael, Kael can get another volunteer!” Maybe if I convinced the kid at the door to leave I could get out of whatever Lael wanted me to do.
“Well Sir Kael said that only you could help me today.” God he wasn't going to go away was he?
Getting out of my bed that I could only describe as a slab of wood with a thin sheet over it, I made my way to the door. Passing by my dresser I glanced over at the figurine that was eerily similar to me or rather I was similar to it, it was the only thing I was able to bring from Silt. Shoving the figurine into the dresser I prepared myself and opened the door.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Beyond the threshold I found a man with brown hair and brown eyes, he was somewhere in the five foot eleven to six foot something range. The first thing that came to mind was that he was a guard, but he was far too well equipped to be one. All the guards I'd seen had cheap leather armor and bucket helmets, this guy had half plate armor with leather on his joints and a shiny silver sword in a sheath.
Whoever he was, he was important or rich enough to afford armor which I could only assume cost more than the entire inn and tavern combined. I felt underdressed in my stained grey tunic and oversized pants built for somebody at least twice my size. At least the inn had underwear in whatever size this body was.
“So Kael sent you huh. What’re you some guard?” He seemed to be too happy to actually be a guard, they were always grumbling about us so called Wayfarers hogging up their resources. There were barely over a hundred of us and by my estimates Rosurnan had over a million citizens.
“No miss, I'm Damian of house Karizin. My father sent me here to aid you wayfarers in funding the inn through whatever means necessary, barring using house funds of course.” He seemed to be genuine, but in all likelihood he was some rat trying to get into our good graces.
“Alright Damian, let's meet up with Kael, he's probably in the tavern by now. And by the way do not call me Mikayla ever again, I'm a man and I ain't a fairy.” Damian only looked at me in confusion, in all honesty he probably hadn't even heard the term before but I didn't care.
Stepping outside my room I was greeted by the sunlit courtyard that all the rooms surrounded. Two stories of rooms that most definitely couldn't hold a hundred people. I was lucky enough to get my own room, something I had my new body to thank for. As I walked through to the tavern I gazed at the unfortunate people trapped on Ennath. Most of them were luckily able to stay human, although me and a few others weren't as fortunate.
Some people had horns sticking out of their head, others had strange slitted eyes like I did, although not with any of my other features. There were some elflike people taller than the tallest normal person I'd seen here, tall, gangly, slender people with sharp ears that went past their heads and skin tones paler than a newborn baby. Others I could only call dwarves were here too, only going up to my chest even at my compact height. And then there were the animals. Covered head to toe in fur they seemed even more uncomfortable in their new bodies than I did, manes, claws, fangs, all sorts of animal features were forced on them. Although there wasn't a single tail in sight, in fact I was the only person I'd seen with a tail the entire damn week.
Eventually we made our way to the front of the courtyard where an entrance to the tavern let us in. Waiting for us inside was Kael who was sitting at the same table as last night, although his drink of choice today was water instead of last night's ale.
“Took you long enough, you've got work to do missy.” His tone was condescending, although not as rude as I expected him to be.
“What exactly is the job Sir Kael?”
“You two are going to go down to the sewers and kill some rats.” He said that as if it didn't sound disgusting.
“What?” “What!” Me and Damian both blurted out the word at the same time.
“Sir, the guild hasn't sent anybody to cull the rats in years. There's no reason to send us.” Guild? Rat culling? What the hell was he talking about?
“Exactly, the populations grown too large, and we need to cut it down again. I've already done you the favor of acquiring the request so you two can go straight to the sewers.” I watched in confusion as the two argued about rat killing.
“Why exactly do we need to kill rats in the first place? Aren't there millions of them in the city?” As much as I tried to understand I just couldn't figure out why we needed to kill rats.
“Some of the rats down there are nearly a decade old. Old enough to have fought and lived for years on end.” Kael said that as if it answered any of my questions. And aren't rats lifespans around five years?
“The hell does that mean?” I questioned.
“It means the rats are getting stronger than they should be.” Damian's response only made me more confused, but at this point I figured that asking more questions would lead to even more questions.
“You know what? Fine. Let's go kill some rats, it's not like either of you will explain why.” Damian once again gave me a confused stare but I ignored him.
“If that's settled then here, take these, as annoying as you are I like you living more than dead.” Kael rummaged through a bag I hadn't spotted near his feet and pulled out a black shawl with a hood, a dagger, a key, a belt with two sheathes… and a revolver?
As excited as I was about getting an actual knife, I was pretty sure that guns didn't exist in medieval times. The revolver itself was pretty strange too, looking like it came straight out of the wild west, wooden grip, slanted trigger, the whole shabang. Although instead of a hammer it had a strange five pronged circle on the back. On the right side was a small red crystal embedded into it just before the cylinder. It wasn't in the greatest shape either, the cylinder was a little loose for my liking and it was a little rusted on the barrel. Inside the cylinder I saw that the bullets were actually made of some kind of smooth stone, from what I could tell the cartridge didn't exist.
“That is what we call a gu-” I cut off Damian before he could rant to me about something I already knew about.
“I know what a gun is, Damian. What I'm wondering is how you have one Kael.” I eyed him with suspicion. Did he take this off of some poor wayfarer's corpse? Although nothing I had on me made it to Ennath it still made me question him.
“Guns are ancient weapons forged by gunsmiths, I bought that one over a decade ago. I heard wayfarers tend to come from worlds with them, so you can have that one. But I do expect you to return it, if you can use it that is.” I inspected the gun in my hands, even something as overused as this has to cost a pretty penny in a medieval world like Ennath.
“How do you even use this? There's no hammer.” I held the revolver firmly, my hands recognizing the familiar shape, although the added weight was a slight detriment.
“Why would a gun have a-” Once again Damian was interrupted, this time by Kael
“You see that gem on the side?” I nodded, “Concentrate on that and your finger, then tap it.” Tapping the gem a string of red light emerged from the crystal connecting to my finger. Magic, it was actual magic. Instantly my concentration broke and the wire was cut, the thread vanished into thin air.
“Congratulations, I didn't expect you to actually have a spark.” Kael sounded genuinely pleased at the idea of me being able to use magic.
“What's a spark?” In my astonished state at using real magic I accidentally muttered the words.
“It's what allows some of us the ability to weave,” Damian paused, as if expecting to get cut off, “Only about one in fifty people have one.” There was a slight pause before anyone spoke again.
“If you're done then. Mikayla I want you to-” Kael spoke up with more instructions for me, along with a jab at my new body waking me up from my dazed state.
“Don't call me that.” He ignored my remark and continued talking without even hesitating.
“Make a star with those five prongs using that red string.” I begrudgingly followed his instructions.
I felt heat emanating from the thread that I didn't notice before. A warm and comforting temperature that threatened to burn me if it got any hotter flowed through the thread and into my fingertip. Wrapping the string around the prongs was difficult, the metal was slippery and I had to knit it tightly. Finally after an embarrassing amount of attempts I was able to firmly make a five pronged star on the back of the revolver.
“How am I supposed to take the string off?” After making the star I realized I couldn't detach my finger from the thread.
“You don't.” Kael’s response was curt and in an annoying tone as if I was supposed to already know that.
“So what, I'm supposed to kill rats while concentrating on this the entire time?” Kael just chuckled at that. I stared at his smug face with a frown that only seemed to increase his smugness.
“Not the entire time, only when you have to. The string fizzles out when you stop concentrating on it.” Looking back at the thread I realized it was gone, and along with it my finger felt a dozen times colder.
“You know what? I'm done talking, c'mon Damian let's go kill some rats.” I was getting tired of Kael messing with me, the sooner I did the job, the sooner I got to go back to sleep.
“Thank you Sir Kael for the job, I promise we'll get the job done.” Missing the point of my words entirely Damian decided to suck up to Kael one last time before we left the tavern.
“Good luck!” With a hearty chuckle Kael waved us off to this stupid task.
With a sigh I left the tavern hoping that this excursion wouldn't take too long.
