“What Level are you, by the way? Did you pick a cool Class?” Aeshma asked. She was leading me back into town, confidently navigating the mazelike system of alleyways that Greg had brought me through not even an hour ago. “You’re not like a Level 3 Rube or something, are you? I was just wondering, seeing how you let yourself get led into an ambush like that, and all.”

  I had been feeling pretty lucky that I had managed to join an adventuring party, but I was starting to get the sense that I’d never live down a mistake with Aeshma around.

  “There’s no way ‘Rube’ is a real Class,” I said.

  “Okay, so you’re not a Rube, then. Seriously though, what are you? A Fighter? Paladin? Arch-Wizard? Come on, Ronald–”

  I scowled up at her. One measly name couldn’t be that hard to remember.

  “...Ral…ind?”

  “I’ll tell you my Class once you get my name right.”

  “Fine, fine. But could I get a hint? Please?” She batted her fluffy eyelashes at me and put on an expression something like a flirtatious pout.

  It was surprisingly effective, despite the fact that she was a good foot and half taller than me and more muscular than anyone I had ever seen before in my life. I supposed she deserved a little hint. “Rol…” I said.

  “Roland! That’s it! Rrr-ooo-land! See, now I’m getting it!” She flashed me a pearly white smile. “Okay, spill. What’s your Class? Give me the deets!”

  “You won’t kick me out of the party if it’s bad news, will you?”

  Aeshma met my question with an amused snort. “If I cared that much about Stats, I wouldn’t be recruiting teammates from the talent pool of people getting mugged in dark alleys.”

  I couldn’t deny her logic, but that only raised more questions. Why did she want me at all? It wasn’t because of my strength or charm or skills, because frankly I didn’t have any of those things.

  And she definitely wasn’t after my starter gold. Greg had seen to that.

  I sighed. There was no way I could keep the truth hidden for long, anyway; Aeshma would find out that I was a total nobody the first time we got into combat.

  “To be totally honest with you, I’m Level Zero,” I said nervously. “So as for my Class… well, I haven’t even chosen one yet.”

  A silence stretched between us as we passed a few slightly newer looking doors and windows. We were starting to find our way back to the main district, close to the road where I first popped in.

  Finally, Aeshma’s voice cut across the tension. “Level Zero, huh? That’s sort of perfect, actually.”

  “Huh? Why’s that perfect?” I asked, flabbergasted. How could my being totally unleveled a good thing? The only thing that I could think of was that Aeshma must have had an unusual party composition in mind, something that required one member to take a very specific, very unlikely build from the start. Maybe she needed a blank slate, someone who she could still twist into a bizarre, multi-Classed abomination.

  If that was the case, she’d have to do a damn good job of convincing me to go along with it. I wasn’t planning on wasting my Levels, my second chance at life, on someone else’s schemes.

  “Oh! When I said ‘perfect’, it was… just a figure of speech. It’s perfect because Level Zero is a great place to start. I guess it’s the only place to start. But… you have the whole world ahead of you! So much potential! Nowhere to go but up!”

  I wasn’t buying it, but I decided to let the deception pass. If whatever she was planning was too rich for my tastes, I could always ditch her later on once I’d collected some Levels – not to mention funds – of my own. For now, I figured the most expedient course of action was to stick with Aeshma, whatever it was that she was hiding.

  As we walked on, the alleys grew broader and the buildings less crowded together, letting in more of the mid-afternoon sun. Then we turned a corner, and suddenly we were back on a well-populated street. Birds were pecking between the cobblestones in search of lunch, only flapping away with an irritated squawk when a passerby came too close. Throngs of children laughed and played unsupervised, weaving between gaps in the crowd.

  Most people were decked out in tunics and leather, the kind of gear that wouldn’t have seemed out of place at a renaissance faire, even down to the funny, floppy leather hats. But there was also a distinct modern influence: the occasional woman wearing cargo pants, a cluster of men sporting trendy, close-cropped hairstyles.

  I didn’t feel out-of-place. It felt… normal. It felt, in a weird way, like I belonged here.

  “Hey Aeshma, how long have people from my world been getting Reborn here?”

  “Eh, I dunno. I’m not much of a history buff. But it’s definitely been happening as long as I’ve been alive. Margaret Thatcher is from your world, right? I still remember when she became Arch-Lich of Zone Three.”

  “Margaret Thatcher? Wait, that’s not important right now. Where’s Zone Three? Is a Zone like a country?”

  Aeshma narrowed her ruby-red eyes. “What? No, no. Do you really not have Zones where you’re from? They’re, like… different… places. They’re on top of each other, but they’re not the same. They’re different Zones. Man, I’ve got no idea how to explain something so basic.” She scratched her chin thoughtfully. “The important bit is that to get between Zones, you need to make it through a Dungeon. Dungeons are like little… tunnels?” She stopped, waiting to see if I understood what a tunnel was.

  When I nodded, she continued, “Okay, great, yeah! Dungeons are like little tunnels between Zones, that you usually have to fight your way through. Some Dungeons are controlled by merchants, and if you’ve got gold you can pay them to cross without a fuss. But most adventurer-types just traverse the Dungeon normally. The right way, you know? How the Queen intended.”

  I was left with more questions than before. But Aeshma was nodding to herself, apparently impressed by the description she had come up with. I didn’t have the courage to ask her any follow-ups.

  It was then, when we had nearly broken free of the crowd, that I noticed something a bit unsettling. As we pushed our way through the throng, people were stopping to stare at Aeshma. Some were even throwing her dirty looks and muttering under their breath. And then it hit me: aside from Aeshma, I hadn’t seen even a single non-Human here.

  “People are staring,” I mumbled.

  “So let ‘em. We’re allowed to be here,” Aeshma said with a laugh. She must have seen the concerned look on my face, because she added, “Seriously don’t worry about it. They’re probably jealous of your jeans, is all.”

  Now that she mentioned it, I did notice a few people making discreet glances down at my pants. But inevitably, their gazes drifted back up to the lilac woman beside me.

  “Why would they be jealous of my pants?” I whispered up to her.

  “Because no one’s worked out how to make denim from scratch. It’s one of the Greater Mysteries.” She leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Some people even say that the merchant guild kills any craftsman who solves it, in order to keep the supply down.”

  We made it to the other side of the street and found ourselves right in front of a wooden structure, almost like a three-sided hut, complete with a rickety, worn-down bench. A few other people were milling about inside, chatting with each other or pacing aimlessly with their hands in their pockets.

  Beyond the wooden structure, two low, stone rails jutted out of the cobblestone street, and ran in parallel as far as I could see.

  Train tracks?

  “Here we are! Right on time, too!” Aeshma said as a bell sounded in the distance. “Now listen carefully, Roland, and don’t be scared. We’re going to be riding on something called a TRAM, or a trans-regional arcane mover. It’s a type of vehicle we use to move large groups of people at a time. It can take you from place-to-place, without you having to walk or use a horse or anything. But it can only take you to a couple different destinations. Here it comes, look!” she said, pointing as the TRAM came into view, turning a corner a ways down the road.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  It looked like every tram I’d ever seen back home.

  “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe,” Aeshma said with a charming smile.

  “I know. We have trams where I’m from, too.”

  “Oh, wow! What was your local Tramwizard’s spell focus? The one in this town is a Morphologist. I know what you’re thinking: it’s a little quirky, a little different. But it works! It’s like the old saying goes: Evoker’ll get ya there the same as a Fomenter.” She grinned at me, apparently thinking I knew what the hell she was talking about.

  Okay, so this place was somewhat different from home. Trains powered by magic. Zones that are interconnected but fundamentally separate. Dungeons between them.

  And a limited supply of denim.

  Aeshma was still looking at me expectantly, waiting for my response.

  “Oh, uh… we don’t have Wizards back home. Our vehicles all run on… fire and air? I guess? Using… engines?” I felt my face going red. In my twenty-three years of life, I’d never even changed the oil on a car. I couldn’t really be expected to describe how an engine worked.

  But Aeshma’s twinkling eyes went wide anyway. “Woah! How d’you get the fire in there without a Wizard? And how does it generate the energy to make the TRAM move?”

  DING DING DING

  Fortunately the tram’s arrival saved me from having to cobble together an explanation. With a final ding, the doors slid open and a smattering of passengers exited, all of them Humans. I followed Aeshma inside as she pushed rudely through the last few stragglers.

  “Do we need tickets?” I asked, stepping over the threshold.

  “Nah. City TRAMs are free, dude!”

  I almost laughed. Public transit was better here than it was back home. Aeshma and I grabbed a pair of empty seats by the door.

  “So where are we headed? Because I could do with some lunch,” I said, painfully aware of my lack of spending money.

  “We’re gonna get you some armor. Go adventuring in street clothes like that, and you’ll get torn to shreds.”

  Greg and his crony hadn’t left me with a single coin to my name, so if Aeshma was planning on taking me shopping, she’d have to be the one picking up the tab. “Oh, do you have some spare armor lying around?” I asked, not quite sure how to address the issue tactfully. “Some armor you’re not using, that you wouldn’t mind giving me?” I added, trying to be more obvious.

  Aeshma was watching the other passengers file in and didn’t seem to pick up on my hints. I had to come out and say it. “Some free armor, Aeshma? Because as you know, Greg took all my money? And I could really use some food, by the way, if I didn’t mention that already, which I think I did. I’m kinda starving.”

  Aeshma clicked her tongue. Her eyes were still glued to the line of passengers coming in, sizing them up one-by-one. “Oh. Yeah, your money. Getting you equipped would definitely be easier if you had held onto your starter money. But… I have my ways.” She shifted in her seat to let a passenger squeeze by. “Besides, we can always sell your pants.”

  “I don’t want to sell my pants!”

  “Listen dude, I don’t want to resort to that either! They–”

  She froze mid-sentence and quickly pushed my head down so all I could see was the dirty tram floor. I started to protest, but Aeshma cut me off with a hissed, “Eyes on the ground. Don’t look at him.”

  A pair of raggedy shoes shuffled by us, accompanied by the stench of sweat and alcohol. I risked a glance out the corner of my eyes as the newcomer passed. He looked like an archetypal bum. His clothes were torn and his hair was wild. He didn’t seem especially dangerous, though; nothing but your average public transit vagrant.

  “What’s wrong? He seems… fine,” I whispered to Aeshma.

  “Dude’s a Level Twenty Vagrant, and for some reason he’s still hanging around Zone One,” she whispered back through clenched teeth. “In other words, he’s nuts. Total potion addict, too, by the look of him.”

  In my peripheral vision, I saw the Vagrant lift the rumpled paper bag he was carrying to his lips and take a swig. He lowered the bag and wiped off his mouth with the back of a filth-caked hand.

  “Is that what he’s drinking now, a potion?” I whispered. “Like a magic potion?”

  “Did you just look at him? I told you not to look at him!” Aeshma hissed. “And what are you even talking about? It’s an alcohol potion, Roland, obviously, have you never seen one before?”

  SCRAAAAAW ~NEXT STOP~ SCEEER ~TOWN SQUARE!~ GREEEEESK

  A screeching announcement wailed through… the tram? It was more like it wailed through my head, so loud and piercing that I instinctively jumped to my feet, my heart pounding. The Vagrant looked at me quizzically and walked further down the tram, glancing over his shoulder a few times to make sure I wasn’t following him.

  Aeshma put a reassuring hand on my arm. “That’s just the PA system. I guess it’s pretty scary if you’ve never heard one before.”

  “The PA system…” I repeated back to her. My adrenaline was wearing off and I was starting to feel pretty embarrassed about my intense reaction. “Yeah, no, we have those back home too.”

  “You have Phantasmal Announcers? Why’re you so jumpy, then?”

  “The ones I’m used to aren’t so… screechy. Or so loud.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s a Morphologist for ya,” Aeshma said, and smiled as though that cleared everything right up. She gave me a few comforting pats on the arm as I sank back down into my seat. Her hands were startlingly soft. Even the thick calluses at the bases of her fingers were soft, like velvet stretched over lumps of stone, not at all scratchy and rough like I would have expected.

  Either she had a better skincare routine than anyone I’d ever known back on Earth… or it had something to do with what she was. Inhuman.

  I looked Aeshma up and down, more closely than I had before, hoping to find some outward clues as to what kind of Monster she was. She was enormous and purple, horned, with scars criss-crossing the skin on her legs, arms, and torso. Given the dirty looks she had received on the street (and which she was currently receiving from some of the passengers on the tram), clearly she was unpopular among Humans. But maybe that just applied to all Monsters.

  There was only one way to know for sure, but I didn’t want to offend Aeshma by outright asking what she was. As new as I was to this world, I had enough sense to know that that kind of question might be taken the wrong way. There were other things I still needed to find out about my new partner, anyway.

  “So, what’s your Class?” I asked, leaning back in my seat.

  A nearby passenger chuckled loudly. When he saw the death glare Aeshma was giving him, he quickly tried to disguise his laugh as a cough.

  Aeshma turned back to face me. “I’m a Barbarian,” she said flatly.

  That seemed reasonable enough. From the brief battle I saw her in, I could tell that she specialized in melee combat. Plus, she was basically unarmored. Barbarian was the perfect fit.

  From somewhere further down the tram car, a passenger piped up, “Someone should tell him.”

  “She should be the one to tell him,” said the man sitting next to us, the one who Aeshma had glared at.

  Aeshma folded her arms and stared sullenly out the window.

  I sighed. “Aeshma, is there anything you need to tell me? Because… it sounds like ‘Barbarian’ maybe was a lie.”

  “WHAT? Why would you… why would you even say that? You think I could do this if I wasn’t really a Barbarian?” she said, and aggressively flexed at me.

  Another comment rang out from the far end of the tram car. “Goodness me! I’ve never seen one built as a martial!”

  Aeshma whipped her head around. “Hey! I’m perfectly viable!” she shouted, before turning back to me. “Look. Roland. I punch stuff ‘til it either falls apart or dies, and I do that very, very well. I think that’s basically the most important thing to know about me, like, Class-wise.”

  I didn’t understand why she was making such a big deal out of it… but really, what did it matter what Aeshma's Class was? As long as it didn’t affect our team composition, I guess she could keep whatever secrets she wanted.

  “Alright, so you’re… a Barbarian. Kind of. So how do I fit into all this?”

  Aeshma was grinning from ear to ear. “We just need to get you some armor! Enough that you can get hit… let’s say two, maybe three times without dying. We get you your gear, make sure you’re nice and comfy. Then we go through the nearest Dungeon! Pop out the other side and that’s Zone One finished, easy peasy!”

  She leaned over and whispered into my ear, “And don’t worry about the money. I’ve got it all figured out!” Her breath felt like a warm spring breeze against my skin. It was almost enough to make me lose sight of what she was saying… but not quite.

  “Hold on,” I whispered back . “We’re going to Zone Two already? I’ve barely done anything in Zone One!”

  “It’ll be fine,” she whispered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  But I pressed her on it. “Won’t I be underleveled? Or… is there, like, a suggested Level for doing the first Dungeon?”

  “Mm, yeah. The recommendation is a party of three Level 5’s. But…”

  She leaned in closer, so close her lips barely brushed the ridge of my ear as she spoke. Clearly she didn’t want the rest of the passengers to hear her response. “I’m Level Eight. Soon to be Nine. Wa-aa-ay over-leveled. You don’t have to worry about a thing, dude.” Her voice was like honey. Was this part of her build, or was it just her? I wanted to lean over and melt into her. She was lovely, she was basically perfect, she was–

  AH-CHOO!

  Sneezing on me. Right in my ear, too.

  NOTABLE CREATURES

  ----------------------------------

  Gremfeld LV20

  Ancestry: Human

  Class: Vagrant

  Notable Perks:

  Beg - Any money gained from begging is multiplied by your current level value.

  Quick Swig - Fully drain any medium-sized container with a single sip.

  Compel Charity - After a minute of conversation, your target must give you something.

  Water to Booze - Once per day, you can turn any water potion into an alcohol potion.