《Courier Quest: A Cozy Isekai LitRPG (Available on Kindle Unlimited and Audible!)》 Prologue - Can I Have Some Space The odds anyone has of being summoned to another world are so infinitesimally small that the vast majority of scholars don''t believe there''s any chance at all. The general consensus to meeting someone ranting about having come from another world was to smile, nod, and get them into counseling before they armed themselves and decided that violent pest control was the only way back. Despite the exceptionally small odds of being isekai''d, many ecosystems containing rabbits, rats, and lawn ornaments are destroyed every year. Whole villages of garden gnomes have been devastated by these attacks, and many of them have gone the way of the lawn flamingo; this once common plastic bird is now an endangered species, and summoned heroes may be to blame. Whether this is due to summoned heroes or not is hotly debated among communities that believe not only that this phenomenon exists, but that it happens more often than one thinks. Those who research otherworldly summons know that they come in all flavors. A short list would be: assassinated and reincarnated as a baby in fantasy land, finding furniture that leads to other worlds, or, in a surprising number of instances, run over by Truck-kun. A fourth, rarer kind of isekai tomfoolery involves middle-aged men running into knife attacks or being pushed in front of trains and waking up as loli girls with god-like powers. Unlike the other 3 types, this form of isekai is revered by government workers in both worlds as it does wonders in terms of offsetting the average population age. But this isn¡¯t one of those stories. Truck-kun is a fan favorite of many otherworld summon ritualists. In many alternate realities, this is a feasible method. Trucks are a constant of many technologically advanced universes. Even in worlds where they don''t exist, they''re often referred to by otherworld dreamers as large monstrosities with voracious appetites, gargantuan strength, and tireless constitutions. They also may or may not be compensating for things, depending on their size. However, not all Truck-kun are created equal. While they are often nondescript box trucks, this isn''t necessarily the standard everywhere. At times, those who are the targets of otherworldly summons are not in places where a full size truck can reach. Such is the case for one Trevor Anderson, a Human person from the backwards planet of Earth. This 20-something-year-old man spends 8 hours a day making other people rich at his nearly minimum wage job stocking shelves and assisting customers. Trucks visited, but were not usually invited inside. Retail was the name of the game and, despite some customers making it difficult to play, it was one Trevor was good at. It had taught him many useful life skills like time management, adaptable thinking, and de-escalation of hostile customers. It was a thankless job, but one he had grown accustomed to. On the plus side, he was told that he was being considered for a promotion. Whether it was true or said to placate a great employee into staying longer was questionable, but the thought of it made Trevor happy. Even outside of this building, Trevor would head straight home to his studio apartment where rent was slowly getting higher and higher. Despite the AC working only occasionally and the loud footsteps of a family of four from above him, it was in a great location directly behind his place of work. He also had a fantastic view of any dogs in the dog park, but that was neither here nor there. Trevor¡¯s story started on a Wednesday. The sprinklers for the apartment complex were running, causing him to have to take the long way to work. This wasn¡¯t a long detour, but one that did take him to the sidewalk. Trucks passed him on the road, but none of them swerved towards him or acted erratically. Here, he was safe. Walking inside his place of work, Trevor dreaded many things but two of them were more prominent than others. The first was Martha, the elderly greeter who always seemed chipper despite how early she came in to work. Martha was the workplace gossip and was always ready to make some snide comment about one thing or another. There was always something about gossip mongers, and Trevor always made sure to keep as much about his personal life as close to his chest as possible lest he become entangled in a labyrinth of ousted secrets and dry drama. As thrilling as it may have been, he didn¡¯t want to hear about Becky¡¯s baby daddy¡¯s latest incarceration. Again. The second was his boss, Doug. He was young and wanted to be liked as part of his first management job, but he often came off as a little bit absolutely too much. As Trevor walked past the front office, trying to do so quickly, he was caught as his boss came out to greet him. ¡°Hump Day, am I right?¡± Doug asked. He always asked on Wednesdays and it was always with the same level of enthusiasm, as if the joke never got old. Trevor merely mumbled some pleasantries and continued on his way. As little effort as it took, dealing with the gossip monger and his boss were over and he was clocked in before he knew it. From there on, it was business as usual: stocking shelves, helping customers, and reaching for things that were way too high up for Old Man Willis to reach on his own. That was the work for The Ladder, which was a sacred tool that no customer was allowed to touch. As it was Wednesday, a truck full of pallets and goods would be invited later. Already understaffed, that meant Trevor would have to work it with only a few others. While a pain, it did mean he was away from customers for a while. That alone made Trevor a small advocate for trucks in general, even if it meant there was a lot more work for him. Derek Hill, however, was a big advocate for trucks. Big ones, little ones, ones meant for dumping, or ones meant for racing; he loved all kinds of trucks. The only thing stopping him was that, as a 7-year old, he had no money. What he did have, aside from a healthy disrespect for the rules, was an RC truck and a father with a wandering eye and no clue how to discipline a child. All it took was one incident in a grocery store involving a child, a ladder, and a toy monster truck that could be driven with a small controller and Trevor Anderson was sailing through the air after being startled by his foot crushing a child¡¯s plaything. It was RC Truck-kun''s first, and last, job.
[[Welcome. You are being summoned to another world. Please do not panic.]] The young man shook his head, trying to clear the haze clouding his mind, and glanced at the floating text box that seemed insistent on ensuring that he read it. No matter where he looked, it stayed in the center of his vision. When he glanced left, it was there. He shifted his eyes right, and it remained. Behind it was a psychedelic green and purple wall that swished and swirled in ways the young man didn¡¯t think he could fully process. It was beginning to induce a headache. Or maybe he had one all along, he wasn¡¯t sure. The text inside the box disappeared, but was slowly replaced. The young man watched as letters started appearing one at a time, as if someone was typing it out with a single finger. [[You are beginning to hyperventilate. I specifically requested that you do not panic. Please, tell me your name.]] ¡°Yeah, my-my name,¡± he gasped aloud, as if suddenly realizing that he had a voice. That was affirming. He existed; whatever weird fever dream this was, he still existed. It was while floating in a strange hippie dreamscape, but he wasn¡¯t one to be impolite when asked a question. This seemed to give the text pause, as it took a moment to get going. [[¡°Yeah My - my Name,¡± is this your name?]] ¡°No, that¡¯s not right,¡± he said quickly, raising his hands and shaking them back and forth in front of the strange text box. ¡°My name is Trevor Anderson.¡± The box emptied, his name appeared first all at once followed by the rest of the text in that same staccato rhythm. [[¡°Trevor Anderson¡± is your name?]] ¡°Yes, I am Trevor Anderson,¡± Trevor repeated, this time with more confidence. He put his hands back down and looked around for anyone who could be controlling this strange text box. Wherever he looked, however, he saw nothing but words and migraines waiting to happen. He focused on the text; at least that hurt his brain less than looking at the walls. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but who are you supposed to be? Is this a dream or am I in a loony bin somewhere?¡± Trevor watched as the text box blanked out again, and this time it took a few moments to get going. [[You are being summoned to another world. Please do not panic.]] ¡°Right, you did say that, yes, but isn¡¯t being summoned to another world something that¡¯s supposed to be panic inducing?¡± he countered. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not exactly an everyday occurrence, is it?¡± The floating text box disappeared. For a moment, Trevor was worried that he had scared it off. Or, worse, caused it to become cross with him. Not even two minutes into being summoned into another world and he had already pissed off written language! Trevor tried to close his eyes to avoid staring at the wall, but found that he could not. This revelation did not help him follow the text¡¯s order to please not panic. When the text reappeared with a fully formed message, Trevor breathed a sigh of relief. [[What species would you like to be?]] ¡°Well, I¡¯m human, so¡­¡± the young man responded before he could really think it over. ¡°Wait, is there-¡° [[Chosen species is Human. Trevor Anderson will be introduced to another world as a Human.]] Trevor blinked as this text box appeared with an almost complete message and the word "Human" had to be typed in, as if someone was filling out a template. But then the full meaning of the text struck him. ¡°You could ask if my name was actually my name but you can¡¯t ask if I was sure I meant human?¡± Trevor asked incredulously. Normally, when asked a question he gave it more thought than this. He decided that the headache must have been throwing him off his groove, and pledged to do better. ¡°I mean, what were my options? I¡¯m not sure if I would change, but options are nice.¡± The text box disappeared again, though this time Trevor wasn''t as disturbed by it. The wall was still hard to look at, but he was getting used to it. At least, that¡¯s what he told himself. In all honesty, his thoughts were lingering on missing his chance to be something other than human in this new world he was apparently being summoned into. A thought was forming in his mind, but he had no time to act on it as the words returned with another fully formed message. One that didn''t answer his question, he noted. [[Your summoner has used a summoning ritual that provides you with one (1) free Power. What Power would you like to request?]] ¡°What do you mean by Power?¡± he asked. The text box blinked away, and he received a short, delayed answer. [[Like a super power.]] Trevor said nothing this time. So far speaking on impulse had done nothing but removed choices that he should have mulled over instead. Keeping his mouth shut, he thought about the options. His eyes focused on the words again as his mind raced. Rereading the text, Trevor noted that he wasn¡¯t given any options. Frowning, he reached up and stroked his chin. Despite the inability to blink, the fact that he had hands and a chin in which to stroke helped ground him in this wacky situation. Depending on what he said, the options could have been limitless. Probably dictated by the world he would land in, but limitless all the same. Should he ask for something like super strength? Or super speed? Or were those too basic? There were so many cool powers out there. Heat vision, teleportation, and more, probably. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but could you list some options for me?¡± Trevor asked aloud after only a few minutes of contemplation. Decisive action was not always his strong suit, but asking to be good at making decisions likely wasn¡¯t a good use of one free power. Or was it? Trevor couldn¡¯t decide. That thought prowled the outskirts of his mind but still hadn¡¯t formed yet, proving elusive. The text box disappeared, and was replaced with one that said ¡°Flight.¡± Before Trevor could think about it, another box appeared, this one saying ¡°Camouflage.¡± Another one, and then another. More boxes started popping up faster than Trevor could read them. [[Flight]] [[Camouflage]] [[Green Thumb]] [[Aura Sense]] [[Summon Ice Cream]] [[Grow/Shrink]] [[Voice Mimicry]] [[Duplicate Cheese]] [[Become Stone]] [[Dragons Know Your Location At All Times]] [[Dragon Slayer]] [[Empathic Healing]] [[Toe Stubbing Curse Magic]] [[Clairvoyance]] [[Water Manipulation]] The sickening wall was starting to be blocked by the sheer amount of words taking up his vision. At this point, he couldn¡¯t tell what was more overwhelming, the psychedelic green and purple or the cascading text boxes that made him feel like he had just won a game of Solitaire on his grandmother¡¯s decrepit computer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but can you give me some space, please?¡± Trevor asked, reaching out as if to push the text boxes away. It didn¡¯t work, of course, but that didn¡¯t stop him from trying. The boxes blinked away, only to be replaced by a single empty box not dissimilar to the ones that came before. It eventually filled with words. [[Space has been requested. A Power from the Space Power Tree will be selected at random. You have been granted the Power of Inventory.]] Trevor¡¯s eyes went wide as he realized his error. ¡°Wait, for real?¡± he groaned. ¡°Inventory space? Now everyone¡¯s going to ask me to help them move!¡± The box blinked away, ignoring his lamentations. The sinking feeling that there would likely be no take backs for this one hit him all at once in the gut. Or perhaps that was just motion sickness from the ever changing wall on the outskirts of his vision. Either way, he was not feeling good about either himself or his choices. Thinking about it, he realized that his initial lamentations probably missed the mark as well. [[Your summoner has requested that you choose to add at least two (2) stat points to your Strength stat. This will leave you with three (3) stat points to place in your other stats.]] ¡°What are the other stats? Can I see them?¡± Trevor asked, silently terrified that he was going to be placed in another nightmare of cascading text boxes. However, only one appeared. [[Trevor Anderson Human Level 1 Unspent Points: 5 Strength: 1 Dexterity: 1 Stamina: 1 Magic: 1 Mana: 1 Speed: 1 Specialty Stats Capacity: 1 Power: Inventory Skills: Quick Growth (Human), Dimensional Storage (Inventory)]] Trevor stared at the stat sheet in confusion. Had all of his stats already been one? Or was one some kind of average? What was the difference between one and three? And what were the intentions of the summoner asking him to increase his strength score specifically? What did they expect of him? The thought that he was being summoned to another world finally formed in Trevor¡¯s mind. Under normal circumstances, this meant that he had been chosen to become a hero of the people. To stand up in the face of demonic kings or invading armies from another dimension. He almost began hyperventilating again when he remembered the text. Please do not panic, Trevor thought to himself. To his surprise, it worked. Repeating this mantra a few more times, he worked up the nerve to continue speaking. ¡°I agree to spending two points on increasing my Strength stat,¡± Trevor said with a calm voice that certainly did not match his mood. ¡°Can I, I don¡¯t know, save the others for later?¡± The text box returned, followed by the letters. It did seem to be picking up in speed now, as well. [[Two points have been added to Strength, and that stat is maxed out for level one. Three points have been banked for later use when you decide it''s time.]] ¡°Okay, thank you,¡± Trevor said as he read over his stat sheet again. [[You are welcome.]] Flexing his muscles, they didn¡¯t seem any different. He didn¡¯t seem any more powerful nor did he feel any bigger. In fact, Trevor hadn¡¯t changed at all. For the first time, he noticed that he was still wearing his work clothes: a pair of black slacks and a red polo shirt that screamed dear lord, I am not equipped to battle a Demon King. At least he still had his steel-toed boots, but that was a small consolation. Instead of attempting to hyperventilate again, Trevor distracted himself with his stat screen. If 3 was the max for Strength, then it would stand to reason that the other stats would also max out at three until he leveled up. If he had to go out to kill enemies and gain experience, then 3 Strength was probably going to serve him well no matter how lame his Power was. At the bottom of the screen, his Power and Skills mocked him. Inventory and Dimensional Storage. While no doubt useful, they weren¡¯t exactly what he first thought of when it came to heroic abilities. At least Quick Growth sounded promising. If others were summoned with him, as was so common in various media and stories, then he would be a laughing stock and designated as the team pack mule. ¡°Well, at least I¡¯ll be of use,¡± Trevor muttered in a half-hearted attempt to console himself. It didn''t work. ¡°A chance to be a big hero if the stories are to be believed, and I waste my chance on asking for some space.¡± He shook his head, and his stat screen disappeared. Mentally, Trevor tried to reactivate it but to no avail. Instead, one last text box reappeared in his vision, this one already full of words. [[Summoning is now complete. Please prepare to meet your summoner. Enjoy your stay in another world. Remember: Please do not panic.]] ¡°Wait, already?¡± Trevor asked before he was unceremoniously squeezed from the psychedelic green and purple room and landed on the cold brick floor of what was, to him, an entirely new and novel world. Chapter 1 - As Long As It Takes To Tell A Story It was as though a light switch had been flicked. One moment Trevor was floating in that strange psychedelic area, having decided that he had a headache before arriving, and the next he was in a large room made from gray stone bricks. The air around him felt cool, and natural light poured in from an open wall nearby. The railing was about the right height for what he expected, neither too short or too tall, and overlooked a vast green forest. In the distance, he could hear the hustle and bustle of people at work, the clanging of metal on metal, and creatures that sounded remarkably similar to horses. Realizing that he had forgotten to breathe, Trevor took in a great breath. The smell of fresh, unpolluted air entered his lungs. It was remarkably sweet, and the breeze carried the scent of baked bread, cooked meats, and pine trees. Having lived in a city, it was rare for Trevor not to be constantly assailed by the smell of traffic, nearby factories, and overpowering cleaning supplies. ¡°You¡¯re doing very well,¡± the voice of an old man came from nearby. ¡°There aren¡¯t many Summoned who react as calmly as you.¡± Trevor turned, looking around the room for the source of the voice. Despite being open to the air, the place he found himself had several bookshelves lining the other three walls. Tomes both thick and thin lined every section, and some were even laid sideways in front of the others. Not all were bound, either; a good few were just loose collections of thick parchment. And then there was the elf. The man who stood there waved at Trevor, and the human had to do a double take. Sure enough, the elf in front of him was, in fact, an elf. He wore a green, lightweight robe and had long ears. His face was wrinkled, but sharp and angular. Despite that, the smile he wielded was warm and comforting. The ears that grew out of the side of his head tapered to a point, and accentuated his blond, shoulder-length hair. ¡°Ears,¡± Trevor managed to get out. He tore his eyes away from the elf¡¯s ears to look at the man¡¯s dark green eyes. They were full of understanding, and Trevor was horrified that his first word in this world was to point out somebody¡¯s differences. ¡°Ah, still processing, I see,¡± the elf said, nodding apologetically. ¡°You may still scream if you want to. It¡¯s understandable. I¡¯ll wait.¡± A part of him did want to scream, but probably not for the reason the elf seemed to think. ¡°As kind as the offer is,¡± Trevor said slowly, ¡°I think I¡¯ll hold off for now. I prefer to have my freak outs in the break room. I mean, in private. If it¡¯s all the same to you.¡± ¡°If that is your preference, then feel free.¡± The elf¡¯s grandfatherly smile remained and he offered a slight bow. ¡°Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Jackson, and I am the mayor of Tosa, the town you now find yourself in. Many, many years ago I was summoned here, and now I am the one who does the summoning.¡± ¡°It¡¯s nice meeting you, too, Mr. Jackson,¡± Trevor said before awkwardly emulating the elf¡¯s bow. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I know you just said that we''re here in Tosa, but where exactly is here?¡± Jackson began walking towards the open wall, and gestured for Trevor to do the same. The young man obliged, but stopped after a few steps to look down at his leg. Several years ago, a short tussle with Mrs. Goodchild involving an absence of Thanksgiving yams on the shelves had left Trevor with recurring pain in his knee. The elderly lady may have had a cane with tennis balls on the bottom, but that was not the part she used to whack his leg. She had proven surprisingly tenacious, and caused more damage than he would have admitted. Of course, what she caused wasn¡¯t lasting damage; that was Trevor¡¯s own fault. He had iced his knee for a few minutes before getting back to work like nothing had ever happened. The pain he felt afterwards was dull, but constant. It didn¡¯t bother him as often these days, but always got worse when the temperature started to drop. Those few steps made him realize that the pain was no longer ailing him. He still had his practiced limp from years of suffering, but despite the cool air everything felt fine. Trevor was elated to discover that his tooth was no longer hurting, as well, and his knuckles, wrists, and elbows no longer cracked with the voracity of a room full of people rolling dice. At the balcony, Jackson waited patiently. Once Trevor realized this, he quickly hurried while trying to stand up straight and correct his limp. It felt weird, but good at the same time. Once he reached the balcony, he looked over the town. It was quaint, but lively. A river bisected the settlement with three stone bridges crossing it at various points. Several logs were floating down stream, and from such a high vantage point Trevor could see where the logging operations were taking place. At the base of the tower were homes and businesses with shingled roofs and booths with colorful fabric coverings. People came and went in a flurry of activity, exchanging coins and goods. Wagons were pulled through the wider streets by large, scaled creatures that had a similar shape to horses, but obviously weren¡¯t. They seemed friendly enough, however, and Trevor could hear their equine-esque whinnies from here. ¡°This is the town of Tosa,¡± Jackson explained. ¡°In a few years time, we¡¯ll have grown to somewhere around two thousand individuals. It is a peaceful, idyllic place that I have cultivated from the ground up for hundreds of years. Three hundred, to be exact. I wanted to make a home for people where they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about surviving day to day. There are a few troublemakers, but you will not find a more wonderful place. It¡¯s my pride and joy.¡± Trevor found himself nodding as the elf spoke. He could hear Jackson¡¯s sincerity and passion, though not everything made sense. ¡°Wait, if everything is peaceful, then why did I get summoned here?¡± he asked, scratching his hair. Feeling how long it was, he realized he regretted putting off getting it cut. ¡°Was there a problem you needed me for? Like an army of demons, or¡­?¡± ¡°No, dear Trevor,¡± Jackson said with a laugh. ¡°We signed a peace treaty with the demons two hundred years ago. Tensions were tight for the first hundred, hundred fifty years, I¡¯ll admit, but neither demons nor humans are long-lived races and a lot of that has died down.¡± ¡°Oh, well that¡¯s nice. I guess I¡¯m just confused, is all, sorry.¡± ¡°There is no need to apologize, young man. Your confusion is understandable, and like many questions this one has many answers. First, I¡¯d like to tell you what my goals are, if you don¡¯t mind letting me ramble for a bit.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Please, go ahead,¡± Trevor said, waving his hand. ¡°Thank you,¡± Jackson replied with a gracious bow of his head. ¡°My reasoning for creating Tosa comes from both a selfless and a selfish place. It is selfless in that I really do enjoy helping people. Taxes are low, and those in need receive help as soon as I¡¯m made aware they require it. I am quite rich from my days adventuring, and was a notorious hoarder not unlike a dragon, and I¡¯m using that to fund the town. It¡¯s gotten to the point where I¡¯m almost no longer needed, which brings me no small amount of joy. But, tell me Trevor, does your Earth know the concept of karma? There are many, and I want to make sure.¡± Trevor nodded. ¡°If you do good things, good things happen to you. If you do bad things, bad things happen to you.¡± ¡°Exactly, and that¡¯s where I¡¯m being selfish,¡± Jackson said with a self-deprecating smirk, looking back down at the town. ¡°I¡¯m retiring from my position soon. Not sure when, exactly, but soon. Don¡¯t tell anyone, though; it¡¯s a secret.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve got you. Uh, sir.¡± Jackson chuckled and gestured towards the ground. ¡°All of this is my effort to accumulate as much good karma as I can for what comes next. As I said in my introduction, I¡¯m a Summoned just like you. Fourth world, to be exact, but I¡¯m not ready to be done just yet. I¡¯ve found a ritual that requires me to have five other Summoned in order to send me off to my next destination. Perfectly safe for everyone involved, of course. As the subject, I cannot take part in it, and before you arrived there were only four in town.¡± ¡°Oh, so I was summoned to help out,¡± Trevor said before laughing nervously. ¡°There¡¯s a trope in our world - or my Earth, I guess, as you put it - where people get summoned to other worlds in order to slay monsters, or defeat something powerful, and the like. It¡¯s a popular genre, and I was really nervous about that.¡± ¡°Nothing so dangerous, though we do have dangerous beasts around that adventurers are needed to deal with. Three of the four Summoned here participate in that, though two of them are more proactive about it than the last.¡± Jackson looked away from the town to Trevor. ¡°I would like you to know that you can make it back to your world, should you choose to. It¡¯s part of the ritual I performed to bring you here.¡± ¡°Oh, well that¡¯s a relief. All my stuff is there, so I¡¯m kind of attached to it. It¡¯s nice to know I can go back.¡± ¡°Eventually, though I have to say you can¡¯t right away,¡± Jackson said apologetically. ¡°This last ritual was one that reached out to someone who was in dire need of something different. It didn¡¯t have to be you; the multiverse is vast, and people are undergoing accidents all the time. This one, however, seeks out the person who needs it the most.¡± Trevor tilted his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m not sure I get it.¡± ¡°Young man, you were summoned here because, deep down, you need a break. As you were being brought here, I watched some of your life play out.¡± When Trevor opened his mouth, Jackson held up a hand and continued. ¡°Nothing that would embarrass you, I promise. But I saw how you acted, how you were treated. I saw how you carried yourself, and how you spent your time. Before today I had no inkling that you even existed, but I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here.¡± The words were not spoken from a place of malice, but they stung Trevor regardless. Even so, he could not refute them; he knew exactly what Jackson was talking about. After a few moments, he nodded. ¡°This is that thing where it¡¯s both selfless and selfish, then?¡± he asked. ¡°Selfish because you summoned me out of nowhere for your own gain, and selfless in that it was a ritual prepared with good intentions?¡± ¡°Somewhat,¡± Jackson said with a slight bow of his head. ¡°Whether I performed the ritual or not, you still would have stepped off of that ladder, stepped on that boy¡¯s truck, and fallen into the shelving on the other side of the aisle. You were pelted by cans of beans-¡° ¡°Okay, that¡¯s probably enough,¡± Trevor quickly interrupted. ¡°Are you sure? I could go over the incident in full detail if you like.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d like that,¡± he replied with a nervous laugh. A thought occurred to him, and he jolted upright. ¡°Wait, that sounds really dangerous. You said I could go back, so I didn¡¯t die, right?¡± Jackson waved his hand. ¡°You didn¡¯t. You are knocked out, and will be for a while,¡± the elf informed. ¡°A coma, unfortunately, but one that you will come back from. The ritual reassured me of this. In fact, it¡¯s entirely possible that the magic saved your life.¡± Trevor blinked as he processed this information. ¡°Oh, okay,¡± he said smartly after a few moments. The elf just gave him that same grandfatherly smile. ¡°It¡¯s a little terrifying, I know, but the moment the top tattoo on your arm disappears, you will be able to return home if you so choose.¡± ¡°Tattoo?¡± Trevor asked, bemused. He lifted his arm and rolled up his sleeve to see that he had, in fact, received tattoos. Two of them. One was around his wrist and traveled up his arm to the elbow. The other covered his arm around his bicep. Both had patterns that didn¡¯t make sense to him, but that didn¡¯t mean there wasn¡¯t a reason for it. Two thoughts occurred to the young man. The first was that his skin had been marred, and whether or not he would be able to find a new job like this. His big boss, Devlin, was a staunch opponent of tattoos. Trevor didn¡¯t really care, personally, and was ambivalent on the topic. Still, he had his future to consider. The second was, oh man, I¡¯ve never been this buff before. He flexed his arm, and his bicep swelled in a way that years of retail work had never allowed. When Jackson looked away, an amused smile on his face, he touched his abdomen and noticed that the inklings of a six pack were there. Not sculpted and well defined, but it certainly didn¡¯t feel like all he did in his off time was sit on the couch playing games and eating shredded cheese straight from the bag. Not that he had ever done that, of course. It was just an example. ¡°Yes, tattoo,¡± Jackson said, gazing over Tosa. ¡°A week in this world is only an hour there, so you have plenty of time to explore, rest, whatever you¡¯d like to do so long as you don¡¯t disturb the people of the town. It¡¯s a mark of the Summoned, and manifests in different places on everyone. Once the tattoo around your bicep disappears, then you''ll know it will be safe to return to your body.¡± ¡°That seems very handy,¡± Trevor said with a nod. ¡°Do we know how long that¡¯ll be?¡± ¡°At least as long as it takes to tell a story.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing, just making a joke,¡± Jackson said, chuckling. Trevor didn¡¯t understand, but said nothing. ¡°It will depend on the doctors of your Earth. A month or so here, knowing your world¡¯s doctors. A couple of weeks, maybe.¡± ¡°That sounds like a really long time,¡± Trevor stated quietly. ¡°What am I supposed to do for that long?¡± Jackson¡¯s grandfatherly smile turned into a grin as he walked over to a table next to where Trevor had been summoned. On the table was a sack, and he pulled a jar out of it. It was made of clay, and the lid had been sealed with some clear glue. After inspecting it, he returned to the confused young man. ¡°Please, can you get these pickles out for me,¡± Jackson requested, handing it to Trevor. ¡°And we¡¯ll talk all about quests. After all, you may not want to be an adventurer, but there are other ways to fill your time, yes?¡± Still confused, Trevor took the jar. The moment he did, a text box appeared in front of him. [[New Quest! This strange old, old, old man has asked you to release the pickles from this sealed jar! You may be asking yourself why he decided to do this, but let¡¯s face it, elves are strange creatures. Jackson, doubly so. However, you already have it, so you might as well give it a shot. Why not try your Power?]] ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± was all Trevor could ask as he looked at the screen in confusion. Chapter 2 - The Nitty Gritty Jackson put a comforting hand on Trevor¡¯s back as they both stared at the clay jar. To the young man, it didn¡¯t seem like anything out of the ordinary. The contents sloshed as he shook it back and forth, and he could feel it wasn¡¯t only liquid inside. Still, he looked at the old elf, who had the twinkle of well meaning mischief in his eyes. ¡°We call it the Quest Master,¡± Jackson explained. ¡°I know, I know, it¡¯s a little on the nose, but all Summoned in this world have access to it. You can shorten it to QM, if you prefer. It doesn¡¯t seem to mind.¡± ¡°It minds other things?¡± Trevor asked, bemused. ¡°Some. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed that it can be a little sassy at times. Overall, though, it¡¯s helpful. It gives out the quests required to level up, like this one. If you ask it to explain a monster, object, or Power, then it will, and if you ask it to show you your stats, it will oblige. Where it came from is hotly debated amongst scholars, but most people accept it as a matter of fact.¡± ¡°That does seem helpful,¡± Trevor murmured, though he didn¡¯t sound sure of his own words. ¡°Completing quests allow you to level up, giving you access to better stats and increases to your Power,¡± Jackson continued. ¡°There¡¯s no level cap as far as anyone has seen, but it¡¯s rare to see anyone too high a level. You see, you level up by completing quests. No monster killing required unless, of course, that¡¯s what you were requested to do. Let me see here, you have the Quick Growth skill for being a human, right?¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s what it said,¡± Trevor confirmed. ¡°That¡¯s a good one,¡± Jackson said, nodding sagely. ¡°Every race has a pool of racial skills, and the one you received is almost universally agreed to be one of the best. Why don¡¯t you ask the Quest Master what it does?¡± Looking from the jar to the elf, Trevor was urged to speak. ¡°Um, Quest Master? Could you please tell me what Quick Growth does?¡± he asked, feeling embarrassed about asking thin air about his abilities. [[The Quick Growth skill is a Human skill that allows you to grow quickly. But that¡¯s the obvious answer, so let me get to the nitty gritty. Whenever you complete a quest, you level up. However, this is not always the case. As you get more and more powerful, it will take you several quests to level up. For the first few levels, it will take you one quest. Then, it¡¯ll take two. As you can probably guess, this upward trend continues. It¡¯s called Milestone Leveling and, not to toot my own horn, it¡¯s awesome. What Quick Growth does is lower the amount of quests required to level up by 10%, with a constant minimum of 1. So even when it takes two quests to level up, you¡¯ll only need to complete one. This is a rare skill and you¡¯re lucky to have it, so feel free to thank me for being so magnanimous.]] ¡°Oh, uh, thanks for being so magnanimous, Quest Master,¡± Trevor managed to stutter out. ¡°Good answer, I take it?¡± Jackson asked. ¡°You can¡¯t see the response?¡± The old elf shook his head. ¡°I cannot. Asides from certain circumstances, everyone will receive a different message.¡± ¡°Gotcha, sorry. Well, the Quest Master said that it¡¯s based on something called Milestone Leveling,¡± Trevor said as he read through the message again. ¡°And I take fewer quests to level up than everyone else.¡± ¡°That is correct,¡± Jackson affirmed, beaming. ¡°Now, I understand this is a stressful event. Being summoned to another world, ripped from what you know, it can be anxiety inducing. I¡¯ve seen a lot of people break down for a short time before they get their bearings. You¡¯ve done a wonderful job so far, but if you need something to occupy your time, then I recommend focusing on this.¡± The young man simply nodded. He wasn''t sure if a panic attack was off the table just yet, but the forecast was looking clear. ¡°That¡¯s good advice, thank you.¡± ¡°The Quest Master has events every year that people can partake in to become Quest Givers,¡± Jackson continued explaining. ¡°For the most part you¡¯ll see them being captains of the guard, nobles, scholars, or merchants, though anyone can be accepted. They live up to their titles as those who give quests. When they do so, the QM takes the reward from a location they specially designated for that purpose in order to give to the adventurers at the end of the quest.¡± That caused Trevor to perk up. ¡°I get a reward for this?¡± he asked, surprised. ¡°It wasn''t mentioned.¡± ¡°No, it generally doesn¡¯t unless it¡¯s something very important,¡± Jackson answered. ¡°But you can always ignore a request if the Giver doesn¡¯t tell you what the reward is or if you don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth the time. In this case, it¡¯s both money and a map of the town. Our currency is separated between copper, silver, gold, and platinum coins, with silver being the standard.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to assume that means the dollars I have in my wallet are useless, aren¡¯t they?¡± Jackson chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so,¡± he confirmed. ¡°But I¡¯ll make sure that you have everything you need for two weeks. That should give you enough time to get a hang of everything and become self-sufficient.¡± ¡°Thank you, Mr. Jackson,¡± Trevor said. ¡°It¡¯s fine. After all, I¡¯m the one who snagged you from your world, so it¡¯s up to me to do at least this much.¡± Jackson gestured towards the clay jar. ¡°Why don¡¯t you complete the quest?¡± ¡°Oh, sure, yeah. Sorry, I really should have started that sooner.¡± Trevor grasped the lid in his hand and attempted to pull it open. His hand slipped off. Next, he attempted to twist it. The glue held tight. Scraping the glue with his fingernail, the rubbery adhesive proved resistant to peeling it off little by little. It was stuck tight. His next thought was that his Strength stat was three, which seemed really high considering his physique. If the jar was made of clay, then it should be easily broken. That would be incredibly rude, though, and Trevor dismissed it. It may have been the right call, but if it wasn¡¯t then he had just destroyed the elf¡¯s property for nothing. With pursed lips, his mind wandered back to what the Quest Master had written. Why not try your Power? If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Sorry, Mr. Jackson, but how do I activate my Power?¡± Trevor asked, looking up from the jar apologetically. ¡°I told you that you don¡¯t have to apologize, young man,¡± he chastised gently. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just a habit, sorry.¡± ¡°You should feel the Power in the back of your mind,¡± Jackson said, not bothering to correct him this time. ¡°Activating it should come instinctively to you once you reach out for it.¡± Nodding, Trevor closed his eyes and tried searching his mind for his Power. To his astonishment, he realized that the feeling he was reaching for had been waiting for him to do so. Mentally grasping at it, the young man smiled. The Power of Inventory was small, but he could feel how vast it could grow. It seemed ready to accept whatever Trevor sent its way, so long as it was able. It was warm and welcoming, like a small room with a fireplace and a couch to snuggle up on while a blizzard raged outside. As he mentally poked it as if it were an actual construct, he had the distinct impression that it was pleased. This was a far cry from what he imagined. The Power didn¡¯t strike him as an ever hungry void waiting to consume eternity and chew on the ashes of infinity as it gobbled up everything it could hold and still want more. Trevor blinked as his expectations were subverted. Perhaps he was ready for that anxiety attack, alone or not. Shaking it off, he willed the clay jar into his inventory. In a flash of light that didn¡¯t seem to illuminate anything, the item disappeared into thin air. For a moment he panicked before reaching out to that feeling, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found that the jar was sitting there inside that small, vast feeling. Not only was it safe and sound in Trevor¡¯s inventory, but he could make out the various components. The clay jar was one item, but so was the pickle juice and the four pickles that had been inside. He found it odd that everything could be separated like that, but then realized that he hadn¡¯t even known this existed ten minutes ago and decided that oddity just must be the flavor of the day. Prodding around in his own mind, he barely noticed as Jackson watched him. The elf¡¯s expression was one of contentment and satisfaction. Watching people explore their power for the first time was almost always a great joy to witness, and this was no different. While the Power of Inventory wasn¡¯t one the elf could see working, the ever changing expressions on Trevor¡¯s face as he experimented were well worth it. Holding out his hand, Trevor took a breath and looked at Jackson. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how this is going to work,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯ll work as it does,¡± Jackson replied. ¡°As long as you¡¯re trying, that¡¯s what matters.¡± Trevor hesitated, but then nodded. He willed the pickles to emerge from his inventory and onto his hand, coaxing it like a kitten unsure if it wanted to leave its hiding place. A moment later, his hand was covered in a dark olive colored liquid. Most of it fell to the ground and splashed the two men¡¯s feet, masking the sweet air with the scent of pungent brine and vinegar. ¡°No, I meant pickles, not the juice,¡± Trevor lamented, shaking his hand out. ¡°Sorry about the mess, Mr. Jackson.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, it really is,¡± the elf laughed. ¡°Try again. You¡¯re already almost there.¡± Holding up his hand, Trevor made a face at the sticky juice clinging to it. He had always hated being dirty or wet. Something about the feeling of being touched by something that wasn¡¯t supposed to be touching him threw him off. This was no different. As if sensing his thoughts and discomfort, the Power of Inventory activated again, and the pickle juice that remained on his hand disappeared in a flash of light. Trevor could feel it floating around, unseen yet still reachable, in the pocket dimension attached to him. Flexing his fingers, he winced as he tried again. This time, he was successful. His eyes widened as he looked at the four blue, bulbous pickles that had appeared out of thin air. They were dry on the outside as all of the juice had been separated inside the inventory space. ¡°I did it!¡± he exclaimed excitedly as he held out his hand for Jackson to see. [[Quest complete! You have managed to summon pickles! Please remember that your Power isn¡¯t one of Pickles, but Inventory. If you attempt to summon pickles again, and they are not stowed away in your pocket space, then you will fail and be sad because you have no pickles. Rewards! A map of the town of Tosa and a set of coins have been added to your inventory. Level up! You have gained one (1) stat point. It has been added to your bank like the others. You have four (4) stat points banked.]] Without taking a look, Trevor could tell that he had two gold coins, fifteen silver coins, and thirty copper coins in his inventory space. He wasn¡¯t sure what the exchange rate was, or how much things cost around here, but he found himself trusting Jackson when the elf said it would be enough to keep him going for a while. Before he could ask, however, the other man spoke. ¡°Excellent work, my boy,¡± Jackson said jovially. ¡°You only have a limited amount of space now but, as you increase your Capacity stat, it¡¯ll get larger. I won¡¯t tell you how to spend your points, but it would be wise not to neglect it.¡± The elf took three of the four pickles and motioned for Trevor to eat the last one. The young man stared at the strangely colored fermented cucumber. Generally, things that were this shade of blue were not meant for consumption. However, Jackson once again gestured for Trevor to eat, and had already begun biting one of the others, so he complied. To his surprise, it tasted exactly like a normal pickle. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the texture, or the crunch when he bit it, or the juices that flowed into his mouth. This was, to everything except the eyes, just another pickle. ¡°As much as I¡¯d love to celebrate with you, I really must return to my duties as the mayor,¡± Jackson said as he finished his first pickle. ¡°If you check that map, it¡¯ll show you the way to your place of residence. The townsfolk have taken to calling it the Hero House, but it¡¯s a small compound where the other Summoned live. Should be easy enough to find.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re not going to take me there?¡± Trevor asked. Jackson simply shook his head. ¡°I assure you, you¡¯ll find that Tosa is as safe as any town in your world.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s as reassuring as you think it is,¡± Trevor said with a grimace. America was America, after all. ¡°Safer, then,¡± Jackson replied. Turning he gestured towards a stairwell in the back of the room. ¡°Head downstairs and follow the map. Spend some time exploring, if you like. You have around eight hours until night falls, but there¡¯s lamps lining each of the main roads. Try new foods, meet new people, and get used to your new, temporary home.¡± Trevor nodded. ¡°Okay, thanks.¡± ¡°You are truly welcome, my boy.¡± As Jackson raised his hand, Trevor suddenly blurted out. ¡°Oh, wait, before you go. Um, why did you ask me to start with 3 Strength?¡± Jackson¡¯s hand stopped, and he chuckled. ¡°Why, it¡¯s so you look more like you do on the cover.¡± Trevor tilted his head. ¡°What?¡± The elf¡¯s chuckle transformed into a laugh, and he shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the mess, it¡¯ll clean itself up eventually. But, please enjoy your stay, Trevor.¡± Jackson finished raising his hand, and a book much larger than either man emerged from the ground. Trevor jumped back, but it didn¡¯t do anything to him. Curiously, the cover did have a depiction of Trevor, and the young man found himself staring. The Trevor Anderson on the cover was as muscular as he was now. He wore a tank top and khakis with a backpack on his back. In the background was a town or city that he didn¡¯t recognize. Whatever his circumstances, he seemed to be having a good time. ¡°Bye, Mr. Jackson,¡± the young man said absently. The book opened to a random page near the middle, and the elf stepped inside with an amused smile on his lips. He disappeared into the paper, and the book returned to the ground as if it hadn¡¯t just been carefully studied by Trevor. The young man¡¯s eyes widened as he looked around for any sign of his elderly friend. ¡°¡­ What?¡± Chapter 3 - No Stuffy Pleasantries It had taken several minutes for Trevor to both finish the pickle and compose himself after Jackson had left. Despite the old elf¡¯s instruction, he had not quite been ready to strike off on his own. However, he recognized that now was not the proper time for his long awaited freak out. Not only was he in somebody¡¯s study, but who knew how far his voice would carry and he really didn¡¯t want to cause someone to become concerned. Replacing the pickle juice still in his inventory into the sealed clay jar, he removed the whole thing and placed it on the table. At the very least, the knowledge that he could bypass containers was handy to have. He couldn¡¯t think of many instances where it was needed, but that was easily blamed on how long his day had been even though it had only just started. He headed downstairs. The tower was fairly nondescript and circular, and there was a long drop from the top of the spiral staircase to the bottom. There was, however, a railing all the way down, so it was at the very least safe. The sounds of the crowds were much louder as Trevor stood in front of the wooden door that he assumed led outside. With his hand already on the metal handle, he took several deep breaths. ¡°Do not panic,¡± he told himself, quoting the Quest Master. ¡°It¡¯s just like going on vacation overseas to a new culture. Don¡¯t worry about elves, or Powers, or whatever. Just take it easy, Trevor.¡± Taking one last breath, Trevor opened the door and realized that, no matter what he thought, he had not been ready for what lay on the other side. The plaza before him was covered with colorful cloth awnings, protecting the plethora of stalls from the sun above. People of literally all shapes and sizes filled his view. Some were meandering aimlessly, stopping at the various booths and shopping more with their eyes than their wallets. Others were zipping around, or at least walking with purpose, carrying different sizes of bags and boxes with them. While the market was one thing that Trevor could easily wrap his mind around, the people were another. As he took his first steps down the stairs to the plaza, he noted that there were humans around. They were the prominent majority, and were just as diverse as they were on Earth. This one had dark skin and light hair, this one had light skin and dark hair. That one was tall, while this one was short. It was easy to tell the men from the women, and aside from the fact that there didn¡¯t seem to be an obesity epidemic in this country like there was in his own, things wouldn¡¯t have looked any different than a ye olde renaissance faire. Whereas the crowds frequenting such events may have cosplayed as different races, elves in particular, these people didn¡¯t have to put on prosthetic ears to sell the illusion. Trevor was not ignorant when it came to games and various races popularized by them. When he saw an elf, he knew that it was an elf. When he saw a gnome, he knew it was a gnome. When he saw a kobold, he knew it was a kobold. What stopped him was the fact they existed. The town was inhabited by people of all types. He caught himself staring at a small humanoid with twisted blue hair that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place on an old Troll doll bartering with a black-scaled, bipedal lizard wearing fine clothes and several gold bracelets on its tail. In another area, a platinum blond elf was stringing a bow while speaking with a bald dwarf sporting a massive, chestnut-brown beard. Even further in, he could see a red-skinned woman with horns and a tail pass a grinning orc some coins. From this distance he could pick out the glint of gold, and in return she received a sword. While Trevor was processing, something large and furry struck him in the side and knocked him to the ground. The young man twisted so that he was looking up at the person who had run into him, and froze. ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t see you there,¡± the minotaur said in a deep, rumbling voice. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be standing in the middle of everything, you know?¡± Sure enough, the creature standing in front of Trevor was a minotaur, half bull and half man. His brown fur covered almost every inch of his body, and his black eyes were looking down with an unreadable emotion. His snout was unadorned with the gold ring his culture had come to expect from a minotaur, though his body was covered with loosely draped silks of dark blue, green, and purple, and jewelry of gold. What really stuck out aside from the fine clothes and huge size were the horns. Each one had carvings and markings that Trevor couldn¡¯t decipher at first glance, and they were covered in colorful ribbons and golden sleeves. Four coins with shiny, platinum sheen hung from leather straps, two to a side. The minotaur rumbled in amusement as he looked from Trevor to the tower not ten feet away. When he looked back at the fallen man, he squatted down. ¡°You staring at my horns, boy?¡± ¡°Um,¡± Trevor said wisely as his eyes snapped from the minotaur¡¯s horns to his eyes. "Sorry?" This time, the minotaur laughed and threw his hands up. ¡°Look! Look all you want, that¡¯s what they¡¯re for!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t go through so much trouble if I don¡¯t want people looking, you know?¡± ¡°Yeah, I get it,¡± Trevor said, not fully getting it but releasing an unwittingly held breath. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s my first day. First ten minutes, even. I¡¯m still getting used to things.¡± ¡°No need to apologize, friend,¡± the minotaur said jovially. He offered Trevor a hand, and the young man took it. He was lifted to his feet with ease. ¡°I¡¯m glad you are one of the Summoned who knows manners. There are some who would look at me, yell ¡®ahh, beast¡¯ and then try to slay me. Not very kind of them. Very rude. Not like you, though! Staring is fine. Rude, but much less so. Don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°I think, if your first instinct is to try to kill something, then you really need to reevaluate your priorities,¡± Trevor responded cautiously. ¡°Yes!¡± the minotaur clapped Trevor on the shoulder. A jolt went through his body, but it didn¡¯t hurt as much as he thought it would. ¡°Yes, this human gets it. Tell me, are there more of my kind in your world?¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Oh, no, sir. Only humans, and it¡¯s always been that way.¡± The minotaur clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly. ¡°A shame, that. I can see that you are nervous, but you don¡¯t have any reason to be,¡± he claimed, waving a hand towards the market. ¡°This is the safest place in the city, doubly so next to me.¡± ¡°Next to you?¡± Trevor asked. ¡°Ah, I have not introduced myself. My sincerest apologies.¡± The minotaur took a step back and gave Trevor a slight bow. ¡°I am Klarkartar, merchant prince hailing from the Isle of Horns. I am a minotaur, in case you don¡¯t know.¡± Trevor had known that Klarkartar was a minotaur, but deliberately held his tongue. The myth of the minotaur from Earth would likely be frowned upon in other societies, and he didn¡¯t want to be the one to bring it up. Especially when the one he was addressing introduced himself as a prince. Instead, the young man bowed just as he had before to Jackson. ¡°I¡¯m Trevor Anderson,¡± he said. ¡°Human, from Earth. One of the Earths, I think. There might be more than one. I, uh, I didn¡¯t ask. It¡¯s nice to meet you, Mr. Klarkartar. Or, is that Prince Klarkartar?¡± ¡°No stuffy pleasantries here,¡± Klarkartar rumbled. ¡°Please, my friends call me Klar, and I am always on the lookout for new friends as I¡¯m out and about.¡± ¡°Okay, Klar. Feel free to call me Trevor, then.¡± ¡°I shall indeed. Tell me, Trevor, may I ask you a question?¡± Despite the initial culture shock, Trevor found himself becoming more at ease with his new minotaur friend. Klar was loud and half again as tall as he was, but the voice was nonetheless soothing. The young man found himself nodding in response. ¡°Thank you,¡± the minotaur said, inclining his head further. ¡°You have only just been summoned. This is what you said, correct?¡± ¡°Yep, not long ago.¡± ¡°Then this is a matter of fate!¡± the minotaur roared. Some people gave them curious looks, but most went about their business. ¡°I must take you under my horns, as they say.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s really not necessary,¡± Trevor said, holding his hands up. ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t have you spending time on some nobody like me. I¡¯m sure that, as a prince, you¡¯re very busy.¡± ¡°I am a merchant prince, but it is just a title,¡± Klar said dismissively. ¡°I am a merchant operating out of the capital, and haven¡¯t seen my home in many years. By choice, mind you. It is simply something to say to impress people, like these horns.¡± ¡°They really are quite great,¡± Trevor agreed. ¡°Yes, they truly are, but I suppose that¡¯s your first lesson. You mentioned that there are only humans on your Earth?¡± Klar asked, to which Trevor nodded. ¡°Then let me tell you this as an icebreaker for other races: if they dress something up all fancy, that means they are proud of it and praising them is worthwhile. Easy, right?¡± Before Trevor could agree, Klar turned him towards the market and pointed out the kobold he had been staring at earlier. ¡°Look at this woman, for example,¡± Klar said. ¡°In their society, women wear gold and men wear silver, this makes it easy for those who are not kobolds to tell. They understand the limitations of us mammals and dress accordingly. Makes sense?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve got it.¡± ¡°Good, but you see how she has fancied up her tail with bracelets. She is proud, and she is drawing attention. A kobold¡¯s tail is like a minotaur¡¯s horns. Some are proud, others are more modest, and even some others are ashamed. That is a kobold who is proud. If you wanted to start a conversation, or strike a bargain, that would be an easy way to build a connection.¡± ¡°Yes, that makes sense,¡± Trevor said. ¡°Gnomes are always ready to talk about their hair,¡± Klar said, gesturing towards a group of them. ¡°They love elaborate hairstyles and anything new. A gnome will talk your ear off as soon as they learn you¡¯re a Summoned, but they¡¯re a good folk. They don¡¯t understand when they¡¯re being a nuisance, but greatly appreciate straightforwardness. If they ask you too many questions about home, just let them know it¡¯s too much.¡± Trevor nodded, but made a mental note to avoid gnomes until he was settled in and ready for it. ¡°And these dwarves here,¡± Klar continued, waving his hand again. ¡°One''s beard is all braided, while the other''s is cut short but has little golden beads in it. They are both proud, but the braid is one that means something. The beads are meant for show because he is lacking in something.¡± Trevor furrowed his brow. ¡°What¡¯s he lacking?¡± ¡°No clue,¡± Klar admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s short, see? Size and length is also important. Perhaps he had to cut it for some reason, but still wants to be proud.¡± Taking a deep breath, the young man gave Klar an apologetic look and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m getting it.¡± ¡°Perhaps not. I am a poor teacher, I know this, and there is a lot to go over. It is okay,¡± Klar said, giving what Trevor imagined was an apologetic smile. Something in the distance caught the minotaur''s attention, and he waved his massive hand. ¡°And it looks like my time is up. Here is something that is universal, if the person you are talking to has horns, but they have nothing to adorn them, then do not mention them at all. Don¡¯t stare, either. That goes for minotaurs and demons, the two most common of us who have horns.¡± ¡°Okay, that¡¯s easy enough to remember,¡± Trevor said, though he was still feeling dread about having to learn Dwarven Beard Length Etiquette somewhere down the line. Klar waved again, a little more insistently this time, before retrieving a small business card from a pouch around his belt. Trevor took it when offered, and found himself furrowing his brow again. It was written in a language he had never seen before made of scratching letters. ¡°Ask the Quest Master to translate,¡± Klar insisted. ¡°Please translate this?¡± [[Klarkartar¡¯s Magical Emporium Come to the merchant¡¯s district in the capital city of Eskretet for all your magical needs! You can¡¯t miss it, just follow the horns!]] ¡°Come and find me if you¡¯re ever in the capital, new friend Trevor,¡± Klar said before shaking his head. ¡°My journey is almost over, but I am provided providence once more in meeting you today. I wish you well in all that you do, whether it is adventuring or something else entirely, I wish you well.¡± ¡°And you as well,¡± Trevor responded, putting the business card into his pocket. ¡°I hope that every hardship brings you greater success. I think that¡¯s the quote, anyway. I might just be very nervous and making things up.¡± Klar laughed. ¡°I understand your sentiment, friend, thank you. This is a minotaur sign of respect, but you do not have to perform it.¡± He put his hands palm against palm over his head and bowed deeply towards Trevor, keeping his eyes on the ground. ¡°Is it- would it be okay if I did?¡± Trevor asked quietly. ¡°Of course, we minotaurs are a welcoming bunch. It is an honor to meet a Summoned such as yourself.¡± Nodding, Trevor hesitated for only a moment before returning the gesture. They stayed that way for a few seconds, and the young man only raised his head when Klar did. The minotaur beamed before turning to the crowd. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m coming! Don¡¯t interrupt me when I¡¯m making new friends!¡± ¡°Bye, Klar,¡± Trevor said. He watched as the minotaur walked away to the other side of the market to others of his kind. They butted heads before Klar pointed back at Trevor, who waved again, and disappeared into the city streets, leaving the young man to find his way alone. Chapter 4 - Im From An Earth Trevor still felt some trepidation as he navigated through the town, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as much as before. It felt like it was run of the mill stress from not being certain of where you were going than anything else. His talk with Klar had done him good and lessened his worry that people would inherently dislike him for being different. He began feeling more at ease in this new world. Retrieving the map from his inventory space had been easier than the pickle debacle had led him to believe, and from there all that was required was simple navigation. It was a fairly straightforward path from the Summoner¡¯s Tower, as it was marked on the map, to the Hero House. As he walked through the town, not many people approached him though those he locked eyes with usually gave him slight bows. It was the same as nodding at people you sort of recognized at the store or on the street; polite, but nothing indicating that you should come over and speak with them. Trevor had no issues bowing back. Jackson had said that this place was peaceful and idyllic, something to really be proud of, and Trevor found himself agreeing with that notion. No matter where he looked, nobody really struck him as being depressed. Depression was, of course, a complex emotion that affected everyone differently. He didn¡¯t really expect to look at the next elf and say this person is clearly sad, but everyone on the street seemed neutral at worst. In all honesty, it was starting to turn him a little paranoid. Like any second now he was going to turn the corner and see a group of armed guards looking for anyone who might not be as happy as can be. Then he passed some actual guards, and was surprised to see that they were almost universally beloved. Walking past shops, people would come out to offer them food or drink. The group he spied first was a human and a dwarf, and they seemed to get along just fine with everyone. The more he watched the people, the more Trevor found himself smiling, and he began to relax. Since he had the map, he decided to take the scenic route and check out the river. It was only a few streets away, after all, and the sound of water had always soothed him. He passed by several businesses catering to the hungry, and his nose twitched at each one, but he didn¡¯t enter. That was bravery for another day, perhaps even as early as tomorrow, though the smell of fresh bread and unknown food made him waver even now. Regardless, he continued walking. The river cut through the middle of the walled town and was wide enough to warrant bridges built to cross it. He saw none of the logs that drifted lazily through the water, but there were several people at the edge. Stone benches had been set beside it, and they seemed like popular spots to stop and eat. The bridges, also made of stone, were nice to look at, and Trevor found himself admiring the structures as he took a seat at a bench near a dwarven family. They were a quiet bunch who were enjoying the river as they ate something that looked like bread around a ball of meat. It smelled delicious, but he forced himself to look at the bridges instead of staring. Even though he could only see one up close, the bridges each seemed to have been built with a single piece of stone that stretched all the way from one embankment to the other. They were sturdy enough to hold wagons, but the majority of the traffic were people on foot. Without even realizing it, he began counting the amount of humans he saw. He wasn¡¯t sure how long he counted, but ultimately wagered a guess that at least sixty percent of the population had to be decidedly non-human. Trevor wasn¡¯t sure what to do with this information other than store it away, but the process along with the sound of the river had calmed him into a peaceful state. At least, until the peace was shattered. Trevor threw up his arms as an earth-shaking roar caused the ground underneath him to tremble. Everyone paused as the ground quaked, and the young man looked around for places to flee. It stopped just as quickly as it came, and the people carried on their business like nothing had happened. ¡°Can¡¯t believe it¡¯s already five,¡± one of the dwarves said from the bench nearby. He flicked some crumbs off of his curly black beard and resumed his meal. ¡°It¡¯s four, remember?¡± came a distinctly feminine voice from the other. Just like the first dwarf she had a thick black beard, though not nearly as curly, and stroked her fingers through it. ¡°We¡¯re trying that newfangled Daylight Savings thing from the Summoned.¡± ¡°Oi, that,¡± the male dwarf sighed. ¡°It was worth giving a chance, I thinks, but I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll vote to keep it. Glyrphizith roars at five, and that¡¯s the way it¡¯s always been.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind it when it lets me sleep in for another hour,¡± the young dwarf chimed in through a mouthful of food. ¡°But I don¡¯ts like it when I gotta wake up early.¡± The woman reached down and ruffled the child¡¯s hair. ¡°I hear you, loud and clear, Dag.¡± Taking a breath and steeling his nerves, Trevor stood up. ¡°Um, hello,¡± he said, waving when the dwarves looked his way. ¡°Sorry to bother you, but, what was that?¡± ¡°Oi, you must be new in town, aren¡¯cha?¡± the man asked. ¡°Yeah, only about an hour or so,¡± Trevor admitted. ¡°Well, bless your beard, come and have a seat with us,¡± the woman said, moving over so that there was room. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. When Trevor reached up to make sure he was as clean shaven as he remembered, the man let out a belly-deep chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s just a dwarven saying, son,¡± he explained. ¡°Come on, then, join us.¡± Nodding more to himself than them, Trevor took them up on their offer. He sat next to the woman and was immediately passed a spongy ball. It was warm to the touch and smelled of both fresh bread and hot meat. ¡°That¡¯s my great-great-grandpa Polt¡¯s recipe,¡± the woman said. ¡°Go ahead and give it a taste, will you?¡± Lifting the ball to his face, Trevor gave it one last sniff before gently taking a bite out of it. He bit deep enough to get the core, and an eruption of flavor hit his tongue all at once. The taste of freshly baked bread mixed with the well seasoned meat hidden within, and he couldn¡¯t help but release a moan of pleasure. It was like eating a taco out of a bowl made from bread, and he quickly devoured the whole thing as quickly as he could. ¡°Mama said we shouldn¡¯t eat like that,¡± the child chided. ¡°Oh hush, Dag, let the boy eat,¡± she said, tapping him on the shoulder. Trevor looked horrified for a moment until he realized that the woman was pleased by his reaction. ¡°Would you like another?¡± ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble, please,¡± Trevor said quietly. ¡°Of course not, dear,¡± she replied happily, and handed him another one. He began eating this one like a normal person. ¡°Based on that tattoo of yours, Summoned, I¡¯m guessing?¡± the man said, nodding towards Trevor¡¯s arm. He looked and saw that his sleeve had fallen, revealing some of the ink in question. ¡°Oh, yes. I¡¯m Trevor Anderson,¡± he greeted before performing the same bow he had before. ¡°I arrived here¡­ Earlier today. I¡¯m not sure how long it¡¯s been.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Gad, this here¡¯s my wife Froil, and our son Dag,¡± the man introduced, and all three of them bowed back. ¡°Before I answer your question, I hope you¡¯ll answer one of mine. Do you have that Daylight Savings thingie in your world, too?¡± Trevor nodded. ¡°Yeah, but most of us don¡¯t like it either, Mr. Gad.¡± ¡°Then why drag us into it?¡± Gad asked, exasperated. ¡°Sorry, we kind of ruin everything, I think.¡± ¡°Oh, none of that, dear,¡± Froil said, patting him on the arm. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. We tried something new, and that¡¯s what matters. If enough people also think it¡¯s a waste of time, then things¡¯ll change back next cycle.¡± ¡°Oh, yes, sorry if you thought I was complaining about you,¡± Gad said quickly. ¡°I¡¯m just a firm believer that Glyrphizith should be roaring at five, and it¡¯s strange when she don¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Glirfezeth?¡± Trevor asked. ¡°No, Glyrphizith,¡± Dag said. ¡°Glyrphezith.¡± ¡°Glyrphizith,¡± he repeated. Trevor frowned. ¡°Glyr-phi-zith?¡± ¡°Yeah, you¡¯ve got it,¡± Gad said. ¡°It¡¯s a dragon living in the Feywoods since long before the town of Tosa popped up. Doesn¡¯t mean anyone harm. She''s never shown up here except for a handful of times, and that was just to ask some of the tinkerers to fix up her clocks.¡± ¡°Her clocks?¡± Trevor asked, bemused. ¡°She collects them, dear,¡± Froil explained. ¡°Every dragon has a thing, and Glyrphizith¡¯s is clocks. No one must have told her about Daylight Savings, poor dear. Not that it matters, I suppose.¡± ¡°She, uh, must be big to make such a roar,¡± Trevor noted. ¡°Huge, but mostly harmless,¡± Gad said. ¡°One of the first things that Jackson did was make a landing zone for her whenever she wanted to come by. Saw her just a few years ago, so it¡¯ll probably be a while yet before she makes an appearance again.¡± ¡°Oh. Well, I¡¯m glad to hear it didn¡¯t mean anything bad was going to happen,¡± Trevor said with no small amount of relief. ¡°Nope, just that it¡¯s five o''clock on the dot,¡± Gad said before looking at his wife. ¡°Four now, I suppose.¡± ¡°You best suppose, at least until you try to repeal it next cycle,¡± Froil said merrily. Then, she nudged Trevor. ¡°That¡¯s next year, by the by. Jackson has the people vote for what they want to see from the other worlds. I believe this suggestion was Wayne¡¯s.¡± ¡°Wayne?¡± Trevor asked, perking up at a name that clearly sounded like it was from Earth. ¡°Why yes, dear, he¡¯s from Earth, if memories serve me right.¡± ¡°But there¡¯s lotsa Earths,¡± Dag said. ¡°So that don¡¯t mean much.¡± ¡°I¡¯m from an Earth,¡± Trevor stated. ¡°That''s nice, dear, and how are you liking Tosa?¡± Froil asked. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± Pausing, Trevor stopped to think. Coming to a new world had been a shock to him, but now that he was here it wasn¡¯t unpleasant. There were a lot of things to learn, and a lot of cultures to worry about offending, but all in all the people seemed friendly and didn¡¯t mind answering his questions. Whether it was the loud yet jovial Klar or the family of dwarves that shared their food with a stranger, it was a nice experience. ¡°I think I like it,¡± Trevor said after a few moments of thought. Froil patted him on the shoulder before gathering up four more of the taco bread balls and tying them into a parcel with a small quilt. ¡°Here, for the road. We¡¯ve got to get a move on, but we¡¯re here about the same time every day, so don¡¯t be a stranger, Trevor Anderson.¡± Finishing the ball already in his hand, Trevor took the makeshift bag and looked at it. A moment later it was in his inventory. ¡°Now how¡¯d you do that?¡± Gad asked, clearly astonished. ¡°Wordless magic?¡± ¡°No, I have the Power of Inventory, I guess,¡± Trevor said before retrieving the small quilt minus the taco balls inside. He offered it to Froil. ¡°That¡¯s a neat trick.¡± ¡°Very handy,¡± Froil agreed, nodding as she took the quilt. The family stood up and bowed to Trevor, and he did the same. ¡°I hope you enjoy your time in Tosa. Like I said, don¡¯t be a stranger.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be a stranger,¡± Gad repeated. ¡°I¡¯ll try not to be,¡± Trevor said, smiling as he scratched the back of his head. Despite Froil saying that they had to go, the dwarven family spent nearly five more minutes exchanging goodbyes and pleasantries with Trevor before Gad took the initiative and rushed off. His family followed. The smile didn¡¯t leave Trevor¡¯s face as he looked out over the river. It rushed by without a care in the world, a lone log floating downstream beneath the bridges. ¡°Yeah, maybe this isn¡¯t so bad,¡± he told himself, and his voice had a lot more conviction to it than he thought it would. Courier Quest is now available on Amazon & Audible! Thank you so much for reading! Courier Quest was honestly a joy for me to write, and I wholly appreciated every moment of it. As those of you who read my previous announcement thread know, I have decided to self publish the eBook version of the story. There was a lot of learning involved, but it was, overall, a fairly positive experience. Since I had no idea where to start, Royal Guard Publishing took care of the audiobook version. And, let me tell you, I absolutely adore Giancarlo and Hannah''s versions of my character. They nailed dang near everything and it was a real treat to listen to. That''s coming from someone who can''t typically stand having his own stuff read back to him, too. I do have a small favor to ask of everyone who is willing. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Because I''m self publishing, I''m doing a lot of marketing myself. Launch day is going to be incredibly busy for me. I''ve got things set up for Facebook, Reddit, Discord servers, and Twitter. If you see a post out in the wild, please feel free to leave a like, upvote, or comment! That being said, I don''t have the resources of the big and small publishers in the genre. I''m just one dude. My reach is small and I would appreciate any help people are willing to give. If it''s not too much trouble, please leave a rating or review on Amazon and Audible. Even if you don''t have an Amazon account (which is fair), then recommendations and word of mouth are great ways to help get Courier Quest out there. It''s absolutely not mandatory, but I''m still touched every time I see someone enjoying my stories enough to tell other people about it. And, I think that''s it. I think my rambling is over for now. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all, and I hope I was able to make your world a little cozier. Soon... Salutations, readers! First news, first. Courier Quest is on sale for a limited time. Right now, it''s 2.99, but it will bump up to 3.99 in a few days before the sale ends on the 2nd! Second news, second. As you can probably guess, Courier Quest is finally (finally!) making its return! I''ve been sitting on the outline for a while, polishing it all in my head. In a rather whimsical decision a few days ago, I decided to start writing the story, and I relished how easy these characters came back to me after all this time. So, last night, I checked to see when the Writeathon would start and, lo and behold, we are a few days away! That decided it for me. Courier Quest International will return to Royal Road starting April 1st, and that''s not a merry prank. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. That said, this will be a little different. When I first wrote CQ, I had gone straight to the wall with it. Chapters every day, sometimes more based on follows, reviews, and favorites. This time, I''m going to keep it more sane. Chapters will drop Mon-Fri and I''ll be skipping the weekend, so you all will still be receiving 5 a week. The story will continue to follow Trevor, but after a short time skip of roughly seven months so it does happen before the prologue. More of the world is going to be shown off, as well. It is Courier Quest International, after all. More world, actual adventures including some dungeon diving, and, of course, the continuation of a romance. The cozy vibes will just keep coming. If you''re interested, the first chapter is available to my paid Patrons here. I''m already up to chapter 3, and there''ll be more where that came from soon. For those who like to read on Royal Road, I look forward to sharing with you soon!