《Isekai Override》 Chapter One: Of Merits and Morning Stars They say dead men tell the best tales. And that¡¯s all I got. I¡¯ve been staring at an open word processor for an hour and that¡¯s literally all I¡¯ve written. I swiveled in my chair and attempted to stare daggers into the empty chair formerly occupied by Jason Travis, international journalist extraordinaire. I continued my standoff with the chair, but I realized it¡¯s futile to win a non-verbal argument with an inanimate object, so I sighed and turned back to the unwritten word. Don¡¯t get bogged down in sentimental remembrance, Karl. Stick to the facts. That¡¯s what my editor Colin wanted, after all. You want the facts? Here it goes. Jason Travis passed away unexpectedly this weekend. His work for the Nightly Watch has earned him three Pulitizers, particularly for his coverage in Afghanistan, Syria and Ukraine. He was found Saturday with a morning star - the medieval weapon, not the vegan food - lodged into his temple. His body was found on the steps to this very building. I finished typing and then reached for a Mountain Dew and slurped down the contents of the aluminum can. I then took a particularly aggressive bite of the brownies Gina had made after hearing of Jason¡¯s death. I finished my grief-eating and then turned back to what I had written. There was no way Colin wouldn¡¯t hand it back to me for more edits, so why not make Colin earn his keep correcting all his editorializing? It¡¯d be cathartic, or at least, that¡¯s what I told myself. Jason Travis is preceded by his mother June and father Davis in death. He leaves behind ex-fiance Teagan Mills, who ripped out his heart long before he was found on the steps of the Nightly Watch, though the nails of the morning star buried in his forehead probably didn¡¯t help either. I turned to scan the newsroom for signs of Teagan¡¯s old desk, temporarily forgetting it had been years since Teagan had a desk here. She used to work the fact-checking desk. I still catch my eyes drifting over to the opposite side of the office, hoping to catch sight of her auburn hair and wide smile. But it had been years since she left to work for the enemy. Jason, Teagan and myself had all started at the Evening Watch ten years ago to this day. Now I¡¯m the only one left. I stood up from my desk. I needed to stretch my legs. I caught my reflection in the Watch¡¯s third-story window. Ooof. My thinning hair was a mess, to say nothing of how snug my button-up shirt fit around my torso. I needed to get back into the gym. But balancing deadlines with cardio was easier said than done. No wonder I¡¯m still single at forty. I made my way towards the break room, only to be intercepted by Pete Lawson, the assistant editor. ¡°Hey Karl,¡± he said. ¡°How you holding up?¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting real sick of that question,¡± I said. ¡°Well, we know you were tight, you and Jason and-¡± Peter cut himself off before he finished, but I caught it nonetheless. And Teagan. ¡°Anyway, you know what Jason was wearing when we, you know, found him?¡± I thought back to all the reporting I¡¯d seen done on the murder. The police had searched our office with a fine-tooth comb but¡­in this industry, you¡¯re not doing your job right if you don¡¯t hear things. I remembered the crime scene photos. Jason wore a brown frilly cloak, puffy pants and what could only be described as a pirate shirt open at the chest. It would have been described as comical were it not for the large piece of chained metal extending from his head. They say dead men tell the best tales. ¡°He was wearing some crazy Medieval Times get-up,¡± I said. ¡°Like from a Renaissance Fair?¡± ¡°Yeah, only it wasn¡¯t Renaissance Fair quality,¡± Peter said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t?¡± I asked, my curiosity piqued. ¡°Apparently it¡¯s all custom-made. None of it is cheap crap from China or bought online,¡± Peter said. ¡°The crime lab is still trying to figure out what all the buttons on his cloak are made of. They¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡± I gave him a puzzled expression. ¡°What does it all mean?¡± ¡°Karl, I have to ask¡­have you been digging into Simon Merit?¡± Here it comes. By now, I knew Peter¡¯s tactics all too well. He¡¯d hook you with some intriguing piece of information, and pretty soon, you¡¯re all the down the iceberg doing an expose on apple fritters. It made an effective assistant editor. But here, it made him another pain in my ass. ¡°Peter, I write movie reviews. And occasionally interviews,¡± I said with a weary sigh. ¡°You want to know what to stream this weekend? I got you covered. You want to know who killed Jason? You¡¯ll have to talk to the police.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I couldn¡¯t blame Peter for prying. Simon Merit weighed heavily on everyone¡¯s minds these days, and it wasn¡¯t like Jason wasn¡¯t a little obsessed with him after Teagan left him to work at Merit. The guy owned the biggest IP in all the world. Shield at Dawn wasn¡¯t just a bestselling series of fantasy books - it was also an immersive VR MMORPG, a streaming show, and soon, a big-budget summer tentpole release. Ownership of the intellectual property had propelled Simon Merit from opinionated social media user to one of the richest men in the world - and one of the most influential. The guy saw fit to chime in on everything from politics to beauty standards, usually with the most sexist and borderline racist rants. This was the chump Teagan had left left Jason for. I hoped she was happy. I might have respected Simon Merit if he¡¯d written a single word of Shield at Dawn, but he didn¡¯t. He just scooped up the rights and turned the fantasy series into his personal bully pulpit - emphasis on the bully part. Roy Fritz was the creator, described as ¡°If Hayao Miyazaki wrote Conan the Barbarian.¡± He was forced to sell his creation to pay for medical bills. Not that it did him much good. He died several months later of kidney failure. Peter could see the gears turning in my head, so he stuck while the fire was hot. ¡°Karl, do you know Jason¡¯s password?¡± I shrugged. ¡°Jason and I were close, but we weren¡¯t that close.¡± Peter looked a bit crest-fallen all his build-up had led to nothing. He turned to go. ¡°Well, if you think of anything, let me know.¡± I nodded. ¡°Of course.¡± I kept moving towards the break room. I ran my hands over my bulging belly. I really didn¡¯t need more snacks but I had hit a break wall story-wise. There was a time Jason and I were that close, when we started. I think Jason needed a break from the heavy headlines, and liked to talk movies. Teagan had her masters in library sciences. She loved books. We all had that much in common, and we were all close. So close that, once upon a time, I thought Teagan and I¡­ Well, we know how that turned out. I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn¡¯t know Jason¡¯s password¡­right? I turned and raced back to my computer. I opened up my email, signed out and then entered Jason¡¯s e-mail. For password, I entered ¡°teagan¡±. No dice. I got the Red Text of Doom. I don¡¯t know why I thought it was that simple. Then I remembered some of the passwords Jason had shared with me. He liked to substitute ¡°a¡± for the ¡°@¡± sign. It couldn¡¯t be that simple, could it? I typed in ¡°te@g@n¡± and hit enter. The screen went blank, and then all the information of Jason¡¯s last cast popped in front of my eyes. *** I¡¯m an entertainment reporter, I tell myself. I told Peter that myself. I could have passed the information I found in Jason¡¯s email onto Collin. He¡¯d assign a reporter actually worth more than streaming hot takes and celebrity interviews to figure out who killed Jason. They might even get a Pulitzer for it. I was too close to this. Anyone could see that. Even I could see that. Unfortunately, good decisions were never my strong suit. Maybe that¡¯s why they stuck me on the entertainment desk. Regardless, that¡¯s why I was freezing my ass off in the middle of the night looking over a damn well. Getting onto the property was quite a bit easier than I¡¯d anticipated. A press badge can get you pretty far when you strategically place your hands over the part of the badge which reads ¡°Movie Critic¡± when displaying it. They let me onto Simon Merit''s property with little question. It helped that this wasn¡¯t Turner¡¯s primary property. I had made my way onto Roy Fritz¡¯s old house, which now existed as a tourist attraction more than anything else. Simon Merit owned it now, like he owned everything Roy Fritz had ever built. I¡¯d read about the well at the end of the property years ago, when researching Roy Fritz. He bought this Vermont farmhouse after making his first sale. It wasn¡¯t much to look at - just a plain brown A-frame sitting atop an acre or two. It was all Roy Fritz could afford after the paltry royalties from his first book. But it was enough. The wishing well showed the most signs of care and update. A mound of sparkly rocks surrounded the well, with a picturesque wooden peak topping the well like a miniature version of the old farmhouse which dwarfed the wishing well. Roy Fritz came here often. He called it the cure to his wishing wells. By his first wife¡¯s account, he¡¯d sit by the wishing well and write out his stories, notebook in hand. Apparently Merritt was already buzzing about ways to monetize this part of the Fritz legacy. His current scheme was to sell bottled water from the well marketed as ¡°Muse¡±, claiming it was the best way to get inspired. But I hadn¡¯t come here for inspiration. I hadn¡¯t come here for the crisp Vermont air or marvel at Fritz''s legacy or Merritt¡¯s mercenary canniness. I had come here to find clues to Jason¡¯s death. If everything went according to plan, I would leave here knowing what happened to my friend and colleague. There was also a non-zero chance I¡¯d leave here out of a job . . . . . . Possibly with a morning star stuck in my head . . . . . . or all of the above. It was worth it for the truth. That was my calling as a journalist. According to the files in Jason¡¯s e-mail, this was the last place he was seen alive. I scoured the earth around the well, looking for anything - a sign of a struggle, a fallen press badge - anything. My hands brushed aside nothing save moist dirt. I sighed, and started to wonder if Teagan had come here before Jason. Was there something here that led her to go down the path she did, forsaking all her loyalty to Jason and her friends? Perhaps I was seeking answers to two mysteries instead of one. Harsh whispers and raised voices broke through my tranquil investigation. I knew my cover story had been blown. After all, it would only take a call to Simon Merit - or barring that - a call to my editor for the whole thing to fall apart. I thought about trying to concoct another excuse, but as the marching footsteps grew louder, panic overwhelmed any hint of guile. I climbed into the wishing well. After all, who looks in a wishing well. The moment I disappeared from sight, I immediately regretted my decision. Who hides in wishing wells? An idiot. Because there is nothing to grab onto. All of the rocks were so tightly clustered together there was no room for any purchase. I decided to climb back to the top of the well, even if it meant capture, when my left hand slipped and my right hand followed. As I tumbled down towards the bottom of the well, I remember the first line of the obituary I¡¯d written for Jason Travis. They say dead men tell the best tales. The darkness swallowed me whole before I could appreciate the irony. Chapter Two: Of Boob Armor and Bad Decisions There¡¯s a notorious film theory that, in the movie Grease, Olivia Newton-John¡¯s Sandy is dying, with the movie itself little more than flickering misfires of her brain synapses as she sings and dances her way into oblivion, hence why she ends up in a flying car with John Travolta. I figured this must be happening to me. I must have hit my head on one of the well¡¯s rocks. Perhaps I had crashed into the water below, and my mind was comforting me with dreams to take my mind off the painful business of drowning. Either way, my mind was doing a terrible job at comforting me as I awoke in a damp cave. My hands fell onto walls of solid mud caked into a slippery and cold surface. The only source of light shined from the torches of four large men in Viking armor charging towards me. They weren¡¯t Vikings per se - they didn¡¯t have the horned helmets seen in most depictions. Then again, most of what modern audiences knew of Vikings were the product of operas and bad TV. I struggled to think of something useful to say or do aside from mentally grumbling about pop culture¡¯s many inaccuracies. The best I came up with was ¡°Hi¡­¡± My faint greeting did little to calm the moon. The barbarians lunged at me, swinging their torches like maces through the shadows, with embers trailing off their torches like fireflies. ¡°Outsider! Outsider!¡± Before I could respond - or then about how to respond - another voice pierced through the shadows. One I had not heard in a very long time. ¡°He is mine!¡± a female voice called through the shadows. A form darted to somewhere in the darkness, beyond my field of vision. I saw a feminine figure glad in armor with a long mane of shimmering red hair falling to her shoulders. ¡°Back off, Teagra!¡± cried one of the barbarians. ¡°You got the last one.¡± I saw a flicker of steel in the ember light. A moment later, I heard one of the barbarians cry out in pain, clutching his now bloodied hand. The woman had moved so fast my eyes only just then focused on the now-bloodstained sword in her hand. ¡°Curse you, Teagra!¡± the barbarian nearest her howled. ¡°You took my bloody finger.¡± ¡°Then praise the Prime Lords for giving you nine more ways to test my patience,¡± the woman said. ¡°But fair warning, once I run out of fingers I will move to taking your head!¡± The barbarians seemed to acknowledge this fact. I saw no sign of the others moving to attack the woman. If anything, they seemed to be actively backing away, growing more one with the shadows behind them. Their leader spit at the woman¡¯s feet before turning his back and proudly striding into the darkness, with his buddies following suit, leaving me alone with the woman. She turned to me, and I was suddenly face to face with Teagan Mills. How had I not recognized her voice beforehand? There was something strange about her inflection, her voice raising with venomous intent. It didn¡¯t soften when she turned to me. This wasn¡¯t the Teagan Mills I¡¯d seen in the newsroom all those years ago. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders in a vibrant crimson red. She wore a sculpted medieval which clung to her generous curves and slim physique. Strangely enough, the armor left her equally trim legs completely unprotected. She held a pair of iron shackles in her hands, which were covered with ornate bracers on either wrist. ¡°Alright, outsider,¡± she commanded me in a cold voice. ¡°On your knees.¡± The more crude part of my lizard brain reminded me there was a time I would have loved Teagan Mills commanding me with handcuffs, especially when she was dressed like that. But more and more, I saw this wasn¡¯t the Teagan I knew. Far from it. Beyond the strange faux-medieval armor, this Teagan bore only a passing resemblance to the woman I knew. The Teagan I knew came with average height and weight. This was always a frustration when she started dating Jason, a man who could pass for Bear Gryllls on the street and maintained an equally laborious health and workout routine. Meanwhile, Teagan would vent to me about the twenty pounds she gained over the office Christmas party. This Teagan, however, appeared far more lean. And oddly enough, taller. How is that even possible? Is she wearing high heels or something? As Teagan moved towards me, I noted she was only a few inches shorter than me. The other, incredibly weird thing was that this Teagan hadn¡¯t aged a day since I had seen her yet. If anything, she looked several years younger, and barely into her mid-twenties - a far cry from forty. My mind raced to process all this information. I couldn¡¯t fathom any explanation. I knew Teagan had undergone something drastic. But the stranger before me defied any explanation - at least rationally. As she approached me with a cold and menacing expression, I said the only thing my mind could process at that moment - the very thing I¡¯d been struggling to process that very morning. ¡°Jason is dead,¡± I said. Teagan stopped dead in her tracks. She blinked a few times, as if trying to comprehend my words. She looked towards me again, and her voice softened, though the intense coldness in her eyes remained. ¡°That is unfortunate,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say, Teagan?¡± I raised my voice. ¡°After all this time!¡± She gave me a strange look. ¡°Who is this Teagan of which you speak?¡± she said.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Teagan. Mills,¡± I said, jabbing my finger at her. ¡°You.¡± I probably shouldn¡¯t have been pointing my finger so imprudently, given what happened to last guy. But I was confused, angry, and most of all, hungry. I tend to make poor decisions when I¡¯m hangry. ¡°You are mistaken, Outsider,¡± Teagan said. ¡°I am Teagra of Meritown.¡± Merritt. I rolled my eyes at the last part. Of course, Simon Merritt has his own town. Honestly, I was surprised he didn¡¯t have his own kingdom, given his ego. ¡°Of course you¡¯re still with Merritt. That explains all this crazy,¡± I said, gesturing to her strange choice in battle armor. At this, Teagan¡¯s eyes flashed an angry warning as she grabbed my hand and began to twist. I cried out in pain as I sank to my knees. ¡°Watch your tone, Outsider!¡± Teagan growled. ¡°Mayor Merritt has given me a home, a sword and a glorious purpose. And you do know what that is?¡± The smart-ass in me couldn¡¯t resist. ¡°Chaffing?¡± I said. That boob armor didn¡¯t look particularly comfortable. Teagan began to twist harder. I cried out again. She loomed over me. ¡°I am tasked with protecting Merritown from all who threaten it,¡± she said. ¡°Which is why you should address me and the mayor with respect.¡± ¡°Now,¡± Teagan continued. ¡°Who are you and what happened to the Son of Jay?¡± It took me a couple seconds to realize who the Son of Jay was. Jason. Teagan really was buying into this whole fantasy world nonsense. To make matters worse, she didn¡¯t know who I was. ¡°My name is Karl,¡± I said. ¡°Karl Connan.¡± I searched Teagan¡­Teagra¡¯s features for any signs of recognition. Her green eyes continued to regard, but if there were any remembrances of who I was, I didn¡¯t see it. ¡°What became of the Son of Jay?¡± she asked once more. ¡°He died,¡± I said. ¡°How?¡± I felt Teagan¡¯s grip on my arms tighten. ¡°Violently. Other than that, I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°We found him on the steps of the paper.¡± ¡°What kind of paper has steps?¡± Teagan¡¯s eyes flashed once more. I looked at her, terrified and confused. ¡°W-what?¡± I asked. ¡°Answer the question!¡± she said. ¡°I meant¡­the place we work¡­the Evening Watch,¡± I said quickly. ¡°Then you should have said that first,¡± Teagan said. ¡°Be wary. I suffer lies less than I suffer fools.¡± I remembered how she had dealt with the barbarians who had approached us. I nodded. Teagan removed her grip. ¡°If I find you had any part in the Son of Jay¡¯s death, I will cut you down where you stand,¡± Teagan said. I nodded. Many questions swirled through my mind, but I picked the one that seemed most pressing, and was least likely to get my arm broken. ¡°H-how did Jason find you?¡± I asked. ¡°In Meritown. He approached me,¡± Teagan said, taking a step back. ¡°He was, like you, rambling about this Teagan person. It must be a trait common among you Outsider folk. I had no patience for such behavior.¡± ¡°What did you do?¡± I said. ¡°I belted him in the jaw. He crumbled soon after,¡± Teagan said dismissively. Teagan Mills brought down Jason Travis. That was something I wanted to see. Jason worked out regularly and practiced boxing. To get taken down by mostly slender Teagan would have been a sight to see. I felt a deep burning within my stomach when I fell back to reality. The Teagan Jason found was a far cry from one that his heart in Chicago. This new Teagan - Teagra - was far fiercer, and the Teagan I knew was no pushover to begin with. Teagra, however, was more prone to violence, and this time, had the taunt muscular body to back up such threats. How horrifying it must have been for Jason to meet this terrifying new version of Teagan, who felt nothing for him - not sadness or regret, not even anger - nothing but apathy to a man who was all but a stranger to him? In that instance, I began to wonder if a morning star to the head wound up being more a mercy to Jason Travis than anything else. Teagan, what did Simon do to you? Still, I couldn¡¯t deny that Teagra seemed far less cavalier after I mentioned Jason¡¯s fate. Her eyes looked to the ground, as if weighed down by a heavy weight. Her movements, once ferocious and animated, were far more subdued. ¡°What happened next?¡± I asked. My question seemed to break Teagra from her musings. ¡°He was very kind to me. And insistent. Even after I knocked him out. I thought I might have to hit him again but¡­¡± Kind and insistent. That described Jason Travis in a nutshell. For all his dogged investigative journalism, the guy was an office sweetheart. His death cast a dour shadow over the Evening Watch. ¡°But he won you over,¡± I said. Teagra nodded. ¡°I thought he could end the war between our people,¡± she said. I felt my brow furling at this statement. ¡°Do not speak falsely, Karl. Your Outsiders have inflated our villages before, creating malice and divisions with your words,¡± Teagra¡¯s eyes flashed at me once more. I decided not to argue, even though I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. However, since I liked having my arm in my socket, I decided not to risk angering Teagra more. ¡°He was searching for something,¡± Teagra said. ¡°I helped him find it but¡­bandits attacked and we were separated.¡± ¡°Bandits,¡± I repeated. Teagra didn¡¯t say anything. Instead, she solemnly nodded. That explains the morning star. ¡°What was he searching for?¡± I asked. ¡°The Grave of Prince Fritzroy,¡± she answered. I was silent for a moment. Frtizroy? Roy Fritz. The creator of Shield at Dawn. How was he tied into all of this? ¡°Can you tell me where the grave is?¡± I asked. Teagra began to stir. ¡°I can do better,¡± she said. ¡°I can show you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not necessary,¡± I said politely. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t trust Teagra. Actually, I didn¡¯t trust Teagan¡­or this new Teagra¡­.who I feared might murder me in my sleep. ¡°Oh it is,¡± Teagra said with a fierce smile. ¡°Because if I find you are lying to me, I won¡¯t hesitate to remove your head from your shoulders, Outsider. I¡¯m not letting you out of my sight.¡± Teagra sheathed her sword and started to walk ahead of me. I started to move towards the end of the cavern, towards the edge of light in the distance. I sighed and reluctantly began to follow. Well, at least it¡¯s mutual. Chapter Three: On Centaurs and Impractical Dungeon Design I followed Teagra for a couple of minutes. By now, the cave I had been trapped in had given way to an opening leading to some rolling plains. I¡¯m not in Vermont anymore. I didn¡¯t know where I was, but it wasn¡¯t Vermont. The land was dotted with vibrant flowers along the countryside. For the most part, I had firmly convinced myself I probably wasn¡¯t secretly dying, and this probably wasn¡¯t one last fever dream before the brain gave out. But if I am dying, it¡¯s a hell of a fever dream. Mostly, I just marveled at the woman Teagan had become. Teagra moved through the rolling hills without any sign of pause or hesitation. Her toned arms clung to the sword, and I found myself gawking at her long legs once or twice. I wanted to hate her for walking out on the Watch¡­and walking out on my best friend¡­but mostly I just felt sorry for her. Simon Merit must have done a number on her. This was NXiVM levels of cultish nonsense. Sure, I couldn¡¯t explain how she looked younger or taller than the last time I¡¯d previously seen her, but at least I knew what the hell was going on. At least I wasn¡¯t dressed like some sort of model out of a sword & sorcery magazine. My confidence lasted all of five minutes, until I saw my first dragon. It had a long neck, big colorful eyes and a bulbous body leading into large leathery wings. It didn¡¯t look like it should be able to fly with its awkward shape, but it flew right over our heads nonetheless. Teagra didn¡¯t even flinch. I watched as the dragon continued to glide overhead, coming to perch on a large wall shaped like several massive shields carved out of granite. My mouth continued to hang agape as I continued to approach the sitting dragon. It took no notice of us. As we came closer, it pushed into the sky and out of sight. Okay, so we¡¯re back to the dying fever dream theory then. I realized I recognized the massive shields. It took me a while to remember it was on the cover of a novel. It was all coming together. Shields at Dawn. I was standing in the middle of the world of Shields at Dawn. How the hell had I fallen into a well at Roy Fritz¡¯s house into his fictional world¡­which didn¡¯t look so fictional all of the sudden. I saw Teagra stop and suddenly give me a troubled expression. ¡°What?¡± I said. I had seen that look on Teagan¡¯s face in the newsroom. I knew her tells, and fantasy world or not, she still had them. ¡°It will raise questions if I am seen walking about town with an Outsider,¡± Teagra said. I noticed the cuffs at her hip. ¡°What about those?¡± I pointed to the iron chains. ¡°You could cuff me on the way in, say I was your prisoner. Like in Star Wars.¡± ¡°There are wars among the stars, Outsider,¡± Teagra said dryly. ¡°And more to the point, would you trust me to release you from the irons when the time was right?¡± She did have a point, because the answer was implicitly no. I had seen enough to know that Outsiders weren¡¯t welcome here, and I had no way of knowing if she¡¯d just march me towards the authorities the moment we got to this town. ¡°No,¡± I said in a plain tone. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you.¡± Teagra nodded. ¡°Then we must find an alternative solution. Stay here.¡± And with that, Teagra raced out of sight, disappearing behind the Wall, leaving me to my devices. Devices? I immediately reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. It was still operational, but I noticed there was no signal. Figures. Beyond that, I had my rental keys and wallet, but I doubted they took American Express in these parts. I quickly pocketed the items. Who knows when I might need them next? No sooner had I done so were several pieces of fabric draped over my head. I turned to see Teagra glaring at me, her expression unchanging and ever-serious. ¡°Seriously?¡± I said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Put them on,¡± she said as she started to turn her back. I sighed and did as I was told, crouching behind the large stone shieldwall. ¡°What even are these?¡± I said as I slid into the fabric, which consisted of far too loose pantaloons alongside a robe several sizes too big. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°They are the biggest I could find,¡± Teagra said. I checked to see her thankfully, still looking forward. ¡°From where?¡± I said. ¡°The tavern in town has an assortment of drunks and dimwits,¡± I heard Teagra¡¯s voice from behind the wall. ¡°And this will be far from the first time any of them wake up unclothed and inebriated.¡± I suddenly felt a wet spot as I slid the robe over my torso. I really hoped it was from liquor. ¡°You couldn¡¯t find anything a little more dignified?¡± I asked as I emerged from behind the shieldwall. Teagra gave me an up-and-down glance, showing neither surprise or disgust. She simply turned around. ¡°Beggars cannot afford to be choosers,¡± she said. ¡°And for that matter, neither can Outsiders. Now come!¡± For the umpteenth time, I decided to do what the lady with the sword said. I followed her. I could see two rickety guard-posts, suspended by tall wooden ladders twenty or so feet into the air. ¡°Act normal,¡± Teagra said in a harsh whisper. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°What does that entail?¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t act like an Outsider¡± Teagra replied, her voice low. Not very helpful. I saw several armed sentries, wearing cloaks, carrying longbows in their hands. I shrugged. ¡°Greetings! Friend! Sir!¡± I said, trying to remember the etiquette of the last Renaissance Fair I had attended. Unfortunately, it had been a while. ¡°Sir Friend!¡± my voice boomed, my arm raised. Teagra probably grabbed in and gave a brief courtesy to the sentries, who nodded. ¡°What are you doing?¡± she growled. ¡°Being normal?¡± I said. ¡°Not like that!¡± Teagra said, her eyes flashing. ¡°Just¡­don¡¯t say anything. At all. And whatever you do¡­don¡¯t stand out!¡± ¡°Or they¡¯ll make me walk the plank?¡± I said, my patience clearly wearing thin. ¡°Or they¡¯ll kill us,¡± Teagra said. ¡°Both.¡± Her words held no trace of sarcasm or humor. Given how intently the sentries were looking at me, I decided to simply walk forward as naturally as I could. I took several more steps. I felt their eyes on me, but after a few more stressful minutes, I turned to see the sentries had turned their back, turning their attention to a caravan up the road. Okay. Act normal. Don¡¯t stand out. Shouldn¡¯t be too hard. I turned around and was proven immediately wrong for at least the second time today. I was getting really tired of that last part. Large men strode down the street, with muscles that would put the Rock to shame. Many were dressed in tight-fitting leather jerkins, which showed off their ridiculously large frames. That wasn¡¯t the worst of it. What shocked me was that many of them had green scales gleaming in the sunlight like rich scabbards. The large creatures seemed to have a variety of faces and features. Some looked downright human, with others possessing more lizard-like bodies. And that still wasn¡¯t the strangest part. After all, I was in Shields at Dawn. Barbarian ogres were par for the course in Roy Fritz¡¯s fantasy. The weirdest part was that these orcish barbarians carried a broadsword in one hand¡­and a briefcase in the other. I struggled to remember Shields at Dawn. It had been several years since I had read the book. The fantasy was significant for its lack of human characters, with the world solely populated by fantasy races such as orcs, ogres, centaurs and fairies, all separated into different kingdoms. The group before me was considerably more mixed, with creatures both human and decidedly not walking through the town center. Most of the population, however, seemed to fall somewhere between. A small girl ran by me with green skin, trailed by her parents, one a scaly green barbarian with a suitcase, and the other a small human female in a robe not unlike mine. I hadn¡¯t felt this way since Comic-Con. I had to keep telling myself it was all real¡­and no one here was in a costume. What made that all the more harder to process was how¡­quaint¡­the town looked. The streets ran narrow, barely big enough for a carriage, yet they were paved with wooden sidewalks which lead to modern-looking storefronts. We passed barbershops, general stores and even someone who sold dragon insurance. Even more weird, everything had been written in English. Or something resembling English. Much of the font was written in an exaggerated manner, making it hard to completely discern, but I could still make it the general language. In Shields at Dawn, every race had their own language and culture. Part of the challenge of the heroes in stopping war from breaking out across the land was overcoming the language barriers in addition to the various cultural misunderstandings. Written in the early seventies, the book was considered ahead of its time. I tried to listen to various conversations in the middle of town, but all I heard was basic English¡­an ogre growling about his work schedule, a fairy girl reciting her grocery list. Everything seemed so . . . normal. Then I got to the stockade. I saw three figures - a centaur, an ogre and a fairy - caged for all to see. The centaur was rather comically bound by just his human half, leaving his horse body simply standing in the middle of the town with his tail swishing from side to side. I struggled not to laugh at the rather large pile of poop placed just beneath the imprisoned centaur. The ogre was also placed in a similar circumstance, with the fairy trapped in an iron cage. I turned to Teagra. ¡°What are they in for?¡± Teagra gave me a serious look. ¡°The most serious of all offenses.¡± ¡°Murder?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Loitering,¡± Teagra said in a harsh whisper. ¡°Wait, what?¡± I shot back. ¡°Mayor Merrick has taught us to value hard work above all else. Those who stray away from the path of productivity bring only hardship and misery to the rest of us,¡± Teagra said in a solemn tone. ¡°Mayor¡­?¡± I started. I nearly careened headlong into Mayor Merrick seconds later when I barely stopped myself from crashing into a sandstone pillar. Atop of the pillar I saw the man Teagan left Jason for, his chiseled likeness perfectly etched into the granite statue. He wore a metallic breastplate with segmented ridges, looking like a character right out of a fantasy novel. Mayor Simon Merrick. My wonder quickly turned into horror, as I quickly realized why this world didn¡¯t line up with my memories of Shields at Dawn at all. This world wasn¡¯t based on Roy Fritz¡¯s creation. Somehow Simon Merrit had molded Roy Fritz¡¯s world into his own. And somehow, I was trapped in it. Chapter Four: Of Camping Clueless We walked for the next hour or so through an increasingly dense forest. Occasionally, I went hiking with Jason and some friends, but I could make it up the trails marked Beginner - and that was when I was in a lot better shape than I was now. Fortunately, the trail, such as it was, was well-traveled. I looked down on the dirt path, marveling at the footprints left indented in the brown earth at my feet. I spotted mostly human footprints, but some were large enough to give Sasquatch a run for his money. Others were hove-print I judged to belong to centaurs, or, well, regular horses. There were even large triangular three-toed imprints which might have belonged to dragons, or something else entirely... A few minutes later, we reached a clearing. Teagra, who had been silent up until this moment, glanced over her bare shoulder at me. ¡°We rest,¡± she said. ¡°Oh Thank God,¡± I said, leaning against a tree. My knee felt stiff. I wasn¡¯t accustomed to walking such a long distance. I briefly took out my phone, anxious to see how many steps I had, but I decided against it. It was best to conserve power for the device. Besides, I had a feeling I was well out of range for Bluetooth. ¡°How far away is this place?¡± I asked. ¡°A day¡¯s journey north,¡± Teagra said with an ever-solemn expression. ¡°Waitaminute a whole day?¡± my voice raised. I scrambled to run through the logistics of traveling that far. Of course, I couldn''t exactly call up an Uber in these settings. Still, my feet already throbbed in the hard sandals Teagra had found for me - apparently the first thing that would give me away as an Outsider would be my footwear. But beyond that, where we sleep? What would we eat? And where would I go the bathroom? My stomach growled loudly in accordance with those last two points. ¡°Yes,¡± Teagra said as she knelt down to examine several berries along the path. ¡°It will be night soon. We will travel for an hour or two and then make camp.¡± ¡°Make¡­camp?¡± I said. mouthing the words as if they were completely foreign to me. ¡°We had best search for provisions,¡± she said, plucking several berries from a nearby vine. My mind was still left reeling from her earlier words. When she said this place was a short distance away, I figured it was just that¡­a short distance. I didn¡¯t realize it was a whole freaking day away. I had no idea how to make camp. I hadn¡¯t made camp since I was eight years old and thought camping in the backyard was cool. And even that lasted only three hours, once I¡¯d devoured all the smores. I¡¯d been a Cub Scout for all of five minutes, and any survival skills outside of knitting badges to my uniform was practically nil. Still, I tried to make a good show that I knew what I was doing. I spotted some green berries. I made my way towards them. I started to pick them when Teagra spotted me. ¡°Those are poisonous!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°Eat those and you will enter a daze you may never escape!¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. I absent-mindedly stuffed the berries into my pocket, not really knowing what to do with them after I¡¯d picked them. ¡°We should get moving,¡± Teagra thankfully said a moment later. ¡°We don¡¯t want to be in the woods when night falls.¡± I nodded. I thought about questioning why we don¡¯t want to be in the forest at night, but I decided not to question her wisdom. After all, I¡¯d already seen dragons, ogres and centaurs. My imagination could fill in the gaps on what prowled the forest at night . . . and I really didn¡¯t like what I was thinking. So I kept moving without question. I wanted to talk to Teagra, but I had no idea what to say. What did she remember? Clearly not me, by the looks of it. Maybe Jason. She seemed to have some fondness for the man she just met a few days again, and she seemed to take news of his death somewhat hard. So maybe she was still in there somewhere. But all of that begged the question, what had Merit done to her? What about all the centaurs and ogres and fairies? Had Simon Merit made those as well. No, that¡¯s crazy talk. Roy Fritz made this world not Simon Merit. Because walking around in a fantasy world made by a fantasy writer not a venture capitalist was a much more rational statement. Maybe I was the one who was losing it. ¡°Have you lived here long?¡± I asked as we walked through the forest. The thick treeline cut the sunlight into a spectacle of shapes. ¡°I do not live in the woods,¡± Teagra said with a hint of annoyance. ¡°I live in Meritown.¡± ¡°Where in Meritown?¡± I asked, not that I was all that familiar with settlement all that well. After all, I¡¯d only known the town by the one street I¡¯d walked down. ¡°Know that when our business is concluded outside,¡± Teagra said. ¡°You will not see my bed.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. I turned beet red when I realized the implication of her words. ¡°That¡¯s not¡­not what I meant,¡± I stammered. ¡°Then what were your intentions?¡± her green eyes pierced me like a sharp piece of jade. ¡°Just making conversation,¡± I shrugged. ¡°You Outsiders and your petty need to fill the air with words,¡± Teagra said. ¡°I will never understand.¡± Teagra quickened her pace, and I quickly concluded the conversation was effectively over. For those keeping score, Teagra One, My All-Consuming Social Anxiety Zero. I watched as she walked two or so yards ahead of me. Her red hair slowly began to merge against the crimson sky as the sun began to set. Little by little, the forest began to melt away, revealing a familiar clearing of rolling fields once more. It all came not a minute too soon, as I was in no hurry to find out what dwelt in the forest. When we arrived at a flat piece of land, I watched as Teagra hunched over and began feeling the land. She turned to me, her solemn expression replacing the icy fury I had experienced in the forest. ¡°We will camp here for the night,¡± Teagra said. ¡°I will gather wood and food. You will see to the fire,¡± she instructed. I looked down to see Teagra had left several stones before me in a circle on the flat ground. I had no idea what to do. ¡°Ummm, about that-¡± I started, only to realize I was talking to myself. Teagra had vanished, apparently in search of timber and food beyond the meager berries she had collected. I scanned the area for her only to discover night was quickly falling. I briefly thought about looking for her but decided against it. Like it or not, she¡¯s your best hope for survival. Besides how hard can it be to start a fire? I started to bang two of the rocks together, eager to make a spark. Nothing happened. Maybe I had to scrape the two stones together¡­that¡¯s what they always did in the movies at least. I held one rock still, running the large rock over it. The only thing I succeeded in doing was jamming the large stone over my fingers. I cursed loudly. My thoughts turned to an actual story called To Build a Fire that I read in high school. Jack London wrote it. I tried to remember any helpful bits of information, but the only thing I could recall was the main character freezing to death at the end¡­which really didn¡¯t help me much. Even if it did feel ominously relevant. I continued to crash the rocks together, but I only succeeded in producing bits of stone which fell between my fingers. I heard a stirring behind me. I twisted around, the two stones clutched in hand. I figured I could throw them at whatever lurked behind me, though my knees weren¡¯t what they once were and getting up was going to be hell on my joints. Instead, I saw Teagra beside me, a narrow expression lining her face. ¡°I told you to start a fire,¡± she said. ¡°I¡­attempted,¡± I said, tossing the rocks to my feet. ¡°Attempts do not matter. Results do,¡± she said. She pulled out two sharp flints from her bag. With one smooth movement, she cast a veil of sparks onto the dry glass, which produced fire from the ground in a few moments. ¡°I found food,¡± she said, laying the battered corpse of a particularly rodent at my feet. ¡°Great,¡± I said, before looking up to her. She rolled her eyes. ¡°Do I have to do everything?¡± she said. Over the course of the next five minutes, I watched in half-horror, half-amazement as Teagra, formerly known as Teagan Mills, stripped the rodent of fur and flesh before impaling it on a stick and warming it by the fire. After several more minutes of cooking, she began digging into the roasted flesh of the creature, hungrily gnawing at the meat. ¡°You need to eat to maintain your strength. If you fall in battle, I will not carry,¡± Teagra said, giving me a wry once over. ¡°Not that I could.¡± I sheepishly grabbed a chunk of meat off the fire, plopped it in my mouth and began to chew. It tasted a bit like venison, if far more a bit gritty and chewier than I had anticipated. I could feel Teagra¡¯s eyes on me with every bite I took as I picked at the meat as if it was a piece of chicken. ¡°Your friend, the one known as the son of Jay, had impressed me with his valor,¡± Teagra said. ¡°He at least knew how to survive.¡± Her eyes proceeded to cut into me like a sharp knife. ¡°You, on the other hand, appear to have all the instincts of a well-fed house cat, and the general appearance as well.¡± ¡°Ouch. That¡¯s harsh,¡± I replied, though I had little grounds to argue. ¡°The truth is often harsh. Mayor Merit teaches us to accept nothing else,¡± she said. The mention of Merit drew hot coals down my back, but I knew I needed to let it go if I wanted to make any leeway here. ¡°So¡­where exactly are we going?¡± I said, trying to change the subject. Teagra¡¯s impassive expression did not change. ¡°Apparently, you are as soft-headed as you are soft-bodied,¡± Teagra said. Okay, that one did hurt. ¡°We¡¯re going to the place of your friend¡¯s last stand,¡± Teagra said. ¡°It should only be a short walk from here.¡± I hesitated to ask Teagra what constituted a short walk, but I figured I was in enough hot water with her. ¡°You will take these answers to your people, and you will tell them to end their foolish war with our people,¡± Teagra said in a matter-of-fact tone. ¡°Okay, when you say ¡®war¡¯, what exactly do you mean?¡± I said. ¡°You Outsiders have been infiltrating Meritown for yours, trying to poison our minds against our leaders, trying to divide us,¡± Teagra said passionately. ¡°Is that what Jason did?¡± I asked. Teagra¡¯s face softened for a moment as I saw a hint of sadness. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Your friend was very brave¡­and honest. It¡¯s only because of your association with him that I haven¡¯t delivered you to Mayor Merit.¡± Okay, okay, this could work. I could go to this place and find answers. Maybe there would be something there to connect what happened to Jason back to Simon Merit. If that was the case, it was only a matter of getting back to my world to make sure the charges stick and bringing down Merit ¡­ and this whole cult thing he had going on. Granted, there were still a lot of holes in this plan, the biggest being finding a way of home. And I sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to tell Teagra this whole thing revolved around plotting against Merit. She made clear where her loyalties lied. I spent the rest of the night thinking and planning. Teagra roused me in the morning. I don¡¯t think I got more than an hour of sleep. Thankfully, Teagra was right - it was a short walk. Our destination came into sight at the top of a hill. Jagged ruins cut into the sky like the bottom of a jawline. Teagra gestured to them with an outstretched hand. ¡°The Dungeon of Moran lies ahead!¡± Chapter Five: On Dungeons and DMT As we made our way towards the ruins, I reached for Teagra¡¯s arm. She jerked free of my grasp and spun around. ¡°Whoa! Whoa!¡± I said. ¡°You never said anything about a dungeon!¡± ¡°You wanted to go where I last saw the Son of Jay,¡± Teagra said, gesturing to the ruins around us. ¡°This is it.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t there prisoners in the dungeon?¡± I said, confused. At this, Teagra scoffed. ¡°Look around, Karl of Connan. This place has sat abandoned since the days of the Cursed King,¡± she said. She was right. The light from her torch revealed broken stone spires and rubble all around us. I followed her to a series of stairs leading to darkness deep beneath the earth. ¡°There are worse things than criminals and pirates below,¡± Teagra said. ¡°Like what?¡± I asked. ¡°I have heard tales of ghosts in this place,¡± Teagra said. ¡°And strange beasts.¡± ¡°And we¡¯re going down there¡­into the dark¡­¡± I said. ¡°Just stay behind me,¡± Teagra said. ¡°You will be fine.¡± I concentrated on Teagra¡¯s torch as she entered into the shadows, drawing her sword from the scabbard which hung at her hip. Together, we descended into the shadows. The dungeon resembled a Spirit of Halloween pop-up on acid. Rusted iron bars shrouded in cobwebs and dust cascaded down on all sides of the steps. The stifling hot air combined with the dust well hell on my allergies, but I managed not to sneeze. Another heavier smell launched into my nostrils, and I struggled not to vomit. Decay. I saw the source a minute later. Several skeletons lined the inside of the cages. Some hung from the walls, chained by rusted iron and layers of cobwebs. Others reached with outstretched hands towards the freedom on the other side of their cage which eluded them, even in death. I stepped over one reaching hand and told myself it was just a Halloween decoration. The smell of death which hung over the skeleton told me it wasn¡¯t, especially with the rotted bits of broken flesh still clinging to the skeletal hand¡¯s tendons. We reached the bottom of the steps, turning a corner to reveal several more rooms of cages. Beyond that, I saw several rows of bottles as well as a rack filled with rusted weapons. Clearly the guards had left much more than the prisoners behind. I started to reach for one of the bottles, only for Teagra to bat away my hand. ¡°Don¡¯t touch anything,¡± she said in a harsh whisper. Having seen Raiders of the Lost Ark one too many times, I nodded and kept moving. We continued down through the corridor of the dungeons. In the cell to my right, I spot a centaur¡¯s skeleton. I found myself admiring the strange hybrid nature of the bones before me. The centaur had been standing when he expired, with half of his bones curved and strong and the upper half brittle and small. In the distance, I heard a sharp scuffling sound, like something had been dragged across the hard stone floor. The sound which succeeded the first noise was a strange growl which echoed through the halls of the dungeon. Teagra flashed her emerald eyes towards me. ¡°That,¡± I said. ¡°Was not my stomach.¡± ¡°We are not alone,¡± Teagra said as she assumed a crouch, waiting for whatever lay before us. I suddenly felt naked and exposed without a weapon. I cursed myself not grabbing any of the weapons I had seen hanging in the rack, despite Teagra¡¯s warnings. Then again, every sword I had seen had been completely rusted and covered in dust. I doubted any would do much good in a fight, not that I really knew how to wield one at all. I heard voices in the distance. Familiar ones - raspy and angry. Recognition surged through Teagra¡¯s eyes. ¡°The raiders!¡± she said. ¡°The Son of Jay believed they may be using this place as shelter.¡± I turned to her, dumbfounded. ¡°And you were going to mention this¡­when?¡± Teagra gave a shrug I found very reminiscent of Teagan¡­if she caught her in the act, slacking on deadlines, she had a devil-make-care attitude I found simultaneously infuriating and hot as hell at the same time. Now it was probably going to get me killed. ¡°This is why you don¡¯t get chopping people¡¯s fingers off!¡± I said. ¡°I was saving your life,¡± she remarked. ¡°Something I have come to regret as of late!¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! While I searched for a comeback, I kept an ear out for sounds of the raiders¡¯ voices getting closer to us. Strangely enough, I didn¡¯t hear them. In fact, I didn¡¯t hear anything. ¡°Quiet!¡± I snapped. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to be quiet! You have been nothing but-¡± Teagra said. Instinctively, I put my hand over her mouth. She began to wrestle my hand away without much effort - apparently she was a lot more stronger than I thought - but my point became clear. ¡°Listen¡­¡± I said. ¡°i don¡¯t hear anything,¡± Teagra turned to me. ¡°Exactly,¡± I said. The raiders had been eagerly chatting around the corner just a few moments ago. Now I heard nothing. I considered what I had heard. The raiders were talking so quickly I hadn¡¯t picked it up before. There was something in their rapid speech. Fear. Panic. Teagra nodded at me. Together we inched around the corner, creeping through the shadows. When we turned the corner, we caught sight of the raiders, or at least, what was left of them. The raider who I had last seen losing a finger to Teagra¡¯s blade was now missing an eye and half of his nose. His throat had been carved off, now covered in a pool of blood. My eyes followed the trail of blood to the source of the raiders¡¯ demise. My head struggled to make sense of the beast before. With the dragon I had seen earlier, I at least knew what sort of creature I was looking at it. It had roughly the body of a pitbull, compact and lean, even if it stood as large as a full-grown bull. The creature¡¯s head was where my mind struggled to piece together its alien features. Its scaly head resembled that of an alligator, with rows of sharp teeth packed into a shorter snout. It swung its gaze towards the two of us, beholding us with a pair of blood-red eyes. I soon realized it didn¡¯t move like an alligator, galloping towards us at frightening speed. Teagra bolted in front of me, her sword in hand. She lunged towards the creature, piercing the mantle of its chest with her sword. Blue blood dripped onto her sword as she pulled out her blade. The creature bellowed in pain, only for Teagra to issue an equally ferocious cry as she raced towards the creature, swinging her sword towards its neck. She dodged one swipe from the creature before connecting her sword with its neck. I stood, momentarily frozen as she hacked away until the creature¡¯s head separated from its body a gruesome mess of bloody strips of flesh. I had seen Teagra fight off the same ill-fated bandits who now littered the floor. But I hadn¡¯t really seen her in action until now and she was amazing. Her triumph was short-lived, however, as another creature bolted from the shadows. I barely managed to cry out before a second creature rounded the corner behind Teagra. By the time my mind realized what was happened, the creature had taken hold of Teagra¡¯s ankle with its mouth, pulling her back. With one sweeping jerk of its head, the creature sent Teagra spiraling across the floor like a ragdoll. Dazed and injured, she looked up at me and yelled, ¡°Run!¡± For my part, I stood in my spot, rotted to the ground, unsure what to do. My mind was still locked in paralysis as the creature moved towards Teagra, its rows of teeth salivating their next meal. Whatever my feelings, I¡¯m not going to let Teagan Mills get eaten by a walking wallet on steroids. My paralysis shattered by newfound clarity, I picked up a chunk of rubble and tossed it at the creature. It landed, bouncing off the creature¡¯s head. The good news was I got its attention. The bad news was I got its attention. It turned to me, its face somewhere between a crocodile and a jackal, but possessing the malicious smile of both now dialed up to eleven. The paralyzing fear returned as the creature raced towards me instead. I fell back just as it stood over me. I could smell its hot breath on my neck, and see the bits of flesh still crusted between its teeth. I tried to hold the creature back with my arm, but I knew I was in a losing battle. My eyes scanned the dungeons for signs of weapons, but found none. I saw Teagra looking at me fearfully, trying to recover from own attack. I didn¡¯t need to do too much mental calculus to realize it¡¯s been jackal-gator food by the time she reached me. My hands reached into my pocket, trying to grab anything that could be used as a weapon. In desperation, I thought about grabbing my phone but I doubted it could do much to save me anyway. At best it could distract the creature for a few more seconds before it finally chowed down on me. My hands brushed against something else residing in my pocket next to my phone. Berries. The one Teagra told me not to eat. I put them in my pocket absentmindedly. I grabbed the berries, clinching them in my fist. With one cry I rammed my fist into the creature¡¯s mouth, shoving the berries down the creature¡¯s hideous throat. The creature backed away, coughing for a moment. When it turned back, its eyes had this glassy quality as it shuffled sideways. It walked by Teagra and me, moving fast and then slow at intermittent levels. It finally staggered onto its back, its four feet pointing upwards, pawing at the sky as if it was on an invisible and upside-down treadmill. What had Teagra told me about those berries? Hallucinations. ¡°I hope it¡¯s a good trip, buddy,¡± I said. When I turned, I saw Teagra walking towards me. She had a slight limp from the creature¡¯s attack. Her eyes were wide with surprise and something else I couldn¡¯t put my finger on. ¡°You saved my life,¡± she said. ¡°I¨C¡± I didn¡¯t know how to respond. ¡°We have to keep moving. We need to find what the Son of Jay left behind,¡± Teagra said, quickly changing topics. ¡°Okay-¡± I started. ¡°These dungeons are filled with traps. I¡¯m going to clear them,¡± she said. She gave me a warning gaze, far closer to the Teagra I was more familiar with. ¡°Don¡¯t touch anything.¡± She limped off into the shadows, leaving me baffled by the conversation. Baffled and a little bit bored. She told me not to touch anything. Needless to say, I didn¡¯t listen. Chapter 6: On (Ghost)Writing What can I say? I got bored. I started scrambling around the dungeons. I felt more than a little awkward surrounded by the dead bodies of the raiders. I¡¯d never been in a room with so many corpses before, yet alone multiple dead bodies, and add to that, a lot of bodies in a lot of different pieces. I felt sick to my stomach just looking at them. I glanced around the corner. I saw the light of a nearby torch reveal a room just off to the side. The only problem? The alligator-jackal thing was still stoned in the corner, rolling around on its pack while it pawed at invisible prey. I thought about grabbing a sword and offing the creature, but it just didn¡¯t feel right. Besides, I didn¡¯t want to take the chance of accidentally awakening the creature from its acid trip. I got lucky once with the berries. I didn¡¯t want to test that luck. Instead, I just squeezed by the clearly tripping-balls monsters. It made no effort to lunge at me this time, its glassy eyes fixated on invisible creatures dotting the ceiling. I found a nearby opening and quickly entered. It took a couple of moments for my eyes to adjust to the roundness of the room, with the shadows slinging to see spots in the corner. Once I was confident no surprises lurked within the darkness, I moved to explore the large room. I moved my hand cautiously against the walls. I half-expected to activate some hidden trap which would launch poison darts right into my deck. Then Teagra would find my oversized body a couple of minutes later, knowing I¡¯d totally failed to heed her instructions. Fortunately, that didn¡¯t happen. A gleam of metal shone through the darkness. I immediately reached for it. A small dusty piece of paper immediately fell out. I quickly pocketed it in the folds of my robe, but my attention remained fixed on the metallic shape I had brushed with my fingers. I pulled the small item into the light. My eyes widened as I recognized the item. It was a compass, and a thoroughly modern one. Jason¡¯s compass. It was one of those rugged, high-end compasses you could chuck out of a 747 in midair and still find it pointing in the right direction. It also doubled as a bottle-opener along with half a dozen other features. Teagan gave it to Jason as a Christmas present. I was always surprised he never tossed it given how things ended with them, but maybe Jason was secretly more sentimental than I gave him credit for. In any case, it served as definite proof Jason was here. There was something else lodged in the wall. It looked egg-shaped. I went to remove it, pulling out an oval-shaped gemstone. ¡°Paydirt,¡± I said to no one in particular. I would have been more excited about finding a rare stone if I had any hope of getting back to civilization. ¡°Pretty, ain¡¯t it?¡± a voice behind me said. I spun around to see an old man in a white button-up shirt held up with suspenders. He wore black shoes which matched his smooth black pants. His face was a wild collection of wrinkles that matched his graying hair, jutting out in all directions. I nearly leapt back but the man gave me a cautious smile. ¡°Sorry, I have that effect on people,¡± he said. That¡¯s when I noticed a faint cerulean glow around the man. But that wasn¡¯t the strangest part. I could see the hallway through the man¡¯s image, as if he were some sort of hologram or¡­ A ghost. I gazed into the man¡¯s features. It took a second to recognize him, but I did put the pieces together. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re Roy Fritz.¡± I was looking at, or rather, looking through the creator of Shields at Dawn. I didn¡¯t know what to say. ¡°Guilty as charged,¡± the man said with a fake bow. ¡°I¡¯d give you an autograph but¡­my pen hand isn¡¯t working so well.¡± His translucent passed through a nearby wall like a cloud of air. ¡°How¡­how long have you been down here?¡± I asked, my mind frantically reeling from the implications. ¡°Since I died, probably,¡± Roy said with a wry smile. ¡°That¡¯s usually how these things work.¡± ¡°Riiiight,¡± I said. ¡°Any idea how long that¡¯s been?¡± ¡°No clue,¡± Roy said. ¡°Time flows much differently in this place. You have a tendency to lose it¡­and yourself¡­if you¡¯re not careful.¡± I found myself thinking of Teagan as he said that last part. ¡°But you didn¡¯t die here,¡± I said. ¡°You died over there¡­in the real world.¡± Roy regarded me with a mirthless smile. ¡°Does this place seem any less real to you?¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I can¡¯t say dragons and alligator-jackals were all that common in Vermont.¡± Roy chuckled. ¡°Our world is more closely linked than you might think. Anyway, when I died, my ghost ended up here.¡± ¡°I just¡­didn¡¯t expect to see you here,¡± I said. ¡°I get that a lot,¡± Roy said with an equally noncommittal shrug. ¡°Really? Get many visitors down here?¡± I said. ¡°No, not really. I was being sarcastic,¡± Roy said as his face dropped. ¡°Or making conversation. One of the two. In either case, I¡¯m out of practice.¡± He turned to me. ¡°I didn¡¯t get your name.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Karl Connan. Of the Evening Watch,¡± I said. I started to outstretch my hand, but then I realized I was talking to a ghost. I¡¯m talking to a ghost. I must be losing my mind. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, retracting to my hand to let it rest on the back of my head. ¡°Force of habit.¡± ¡°Evening Watch? You guys are still in business?¡± Roy said with a slight twitch of his transparent mouth. ¡°I thought you guys would have been swallowed up by all the dot coms. Or bought out by Merrit.¡± I could feel my face darkening at the mention of Simon Merit. ¡°What do you know about Merit?¡± I asked. ¡°I know he¡¯s set himself up as mayor of this place,¡± Roy said. ¡°Though I don¡¯t think he¡¯s big on elections. Not that that stopped him in the past topside.¡± ¡°Where did all the people come from?¡± I asked from. Roy gave me an odd look. ¡°Please tell me you haven¡¯t forgotten how babies are made,¡± Roy said. ¡°Because that is not a conversation I would fancy having with a near-stranger.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± I raised my voice. ¡°In Shields at Dawn, there were no human characters, but I saw plenty of people in that town of his.¡± ¡°Oh great. A fan,¡± Roy said as he looked me up and down. ¡°I¡¯d give you an autograph, but I got a bad case of carpal tunnel¡­as well as a minor case of being dead.¡± I didn¡¯t say anything. I fixed my gaze at him and stood my ground. ¡°I didn¡¯t create this place,¡± Roy said. ¡°But you wrote Shields at Dawn,¡± I shot back. ¡°I wrote my experiences here, in this place. With some minor embellishments,¡± he said, looking around the dark room. ¡°And you left out an entire race of human beings from your writing?¡± I asked. Roy shifted uncomfortably, even as he hovered inches above the ground. ¡°Not quite,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a reporter,¡± I said. ¡°But I know when someone is evading the truth.¡± Roy sighed. ¡°Merit brought the people here.¡± Now it was my turn to laugh. ¡°What, did he sell tickets on his website? How much they going for?¡± ¡°Not like that,¡± he said. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I said, still laughing. ¡°I mean they weren¡¯t brought here willingly,¡± he said. My smile vanished. I looked at Roy Fritz¡¯s ghost. ¡°So¡­all of those people up there are¡­hostages?¡± I asked. ¡°Not quite,¡± Roy said, pointing to his temple. ¡°This place can do funny things to your mind. It worms your way into your mind, until your old life becomes a dream you can barely remember.¡± Oh God, I thought. Teagan. That¡¯s what happened to her. All this time I thought she drank the Kool-Aid becoming part of Simon Merit¡¯s cult, but what if that¡¯s not what happened at all? What if she literally forgot who she was? Then again, that still didn¡¯t explain how she treated us, how she broke off Jason¡¯s engagement, how she turned her back on everything she knew. She must have been her for some of it. ¡°So those people in that town¡­have lost their memories?¡± I asked. ¡°Not just their memories. They become new beings up here. The air. The food. The magic,¡± Roy said. ¡°It gets in you, and it doesn¡¯t let go.¡± He was looking away when he said it. ¡°Not that you want it to, either,¡± he said in a much smaller voice. ¡°Can someone regain their self, their memories?¡± I asked. ¡°Dunno,¡± Roy shrugged. ¡°I never tried it.¡± ¡°Is that going to happen to me?¡± I asked. ¡°Eventually,¡± Roy said. I need to get out of here. ¡°But,¡± Roy said. ¡°I can teach you how to keep yourself, bit by bit. It¡¯s not impossible¡­if you take certain precautions.¡± Well, that¡¯s a relief. My thoughts then turned to Jason. Roy Fritz died of kidney failure, yet he was. Did that mean Jason¡­? ¡°Have you seen any other people¡­like me?¡± I asked. Roy Fritz gave a knowing shake of his head. ¡°Oh, you mean Outsiders.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not a big fan of that term.¡± ¡°Neither was I when I got here,¡± Roy said. ¡°Though it does have a certain rustic charm to it.¡± ¡°Anyone else?¡± I said, trying to keep Roy Fritz on topic. ¡°Yeah, there was another fella came in not too long ago,¡± he said. ¡°He got chased off by some scary-looking barbarians. He a friend of yours?¡±¡± ¡°He was,¡± I said, emphasizing the past tense. ¡°He died getting me the information.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Roy said. ¡°Seemed like a nice guy.¡± ¡°I was hoping he might be around here¡­since you died topside too,¡± I said. Roy gave a definitive shake of his head. ¡°Sorry, Karl. I don¡¯t really know how my soul got trapped here. I spent a lot of time in this place. In any case, he¡¯s not here.¡± I gave a soft nod. The brief hope of seeing my friend again, so quickly dashed, hurt more than the initial shock. I heard rapid footsteps coming down the hall. I briefly tensed, only to see Teagra emerge from the shadows. She immediately locked eyes with me¡­and Roy Fritz. ¡°Teagra, this is¨C¡± ¡°The Cursed King!¡± she exclaims, before turning to me. ¡°I knew you couldn¡¯t be trusted,¡± she said. ¡°You vile necromancer!¡± The only thing flashing brighter than her eyes was the sword she held in her head, as she plunged it towards my midsection. Chapter Seven: Of Revelations and Reality Checks I narrowly dodged the sword, leaping out of the way just seconds before I would have been a pin-cushion for Teagra¡¯s blade. ¡°Traitor!¡± she cried. ¡°I should have known you serve the Cursed King.¡± ¡°Teagra! This isn¡¯t what you think!¡± I cried. ¡°Lies!¡± she said with another whirl of her blade. ¡°All lies.¡± I had to admit, Teagra was really good with a sword. Far better than I would be under the circumstances, at least. That was part of the problem though. If Teagra kept at it, I was likely to lose my head. Roy Fritz cut in front of me, his transparent form extending far beyond the reach of Teagra¡¯s sword. ¡°Beware my wrath!¡± he cried in an eerily booming voice. It sounded far more impressive than what I would normally have heard in a haunted house around Halloween. I had to give him points for trying. Unfortunately, I could see Roy¡¯s theatrics were just that - theatrics. Teagra¡¯s sword passed harmlessly through the specter, but his hands also glided through her with little effect. Sooner or later, Teagra would figure it out, and then¡­I¡¯d be goner. I thought about making it run for it. Yeah, good idea, run where? I would survive two seconds out there. The world wasn¡¯t very forgiving to Outsiders to begin with. I¡¯d be rounded up and carried off - if I was lucky. The more likely scenario was I¡¯d die of starvation, or be killed by a monster. And that all assumed Teagra didn¡¯t track me down and kill me herself. I needed to get her back on my side, but clearly Roy Fritz was a sore subject. I fished through my pockets, looking for something to help. My phone. I could use that to¡­do something. What? I didn¡¯t quite know yet. My hand fell upon the paper in the folds of my robe. I pulled it out. My eyes widened as I read the note. Jason¡­.I think that¡¯s your name¡­ Whatever you do, don¡¯t come back here. You¡¯ll find many amazing things. But you¡¯ll also find Simon Merritt. And here, he holds all the cards. Please don¡¯t come here. I¡¯m sorry how I ended things. I thought I was protecting you. Now I can barely remember you. It¡¯s this place. It gets in your bones. I can¡¯t even remember much else. Where I worked. Who I was before all this. Hate me all you like. But don¡¯t come here. Please Teagaaan Mells My heart arched as I wrote it. It confirmed everything Roy Fritz had said. Teagan had come here, and she¡¯d lost herself to this place. Jason had disobeyed her wishes, tracking her down. What he found was only a stranger with Teagan¡¯s face and none of her memories. But was that really the case? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But what choice did I have? I took a hesitant step forward. Roy Fritz continued to toy with Teagra, whose hacks and slashes had little effect on the phantom. She turned her eyes to me. ¡°I should have killed you when I had the chance!¡± she said. ¡°You might get another one,¡± I said, holding the note in my hand. She stormed forward, so I awkwardly shoved the piece of paper in her face. ¡°What manner of devilry is this?¡± Teagra scoffed. ¡°You think ink and parchment will stay my sword!¡± ¡°I do,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t you recognize your own writing¡­or are you too far gone¡­?¡± Teagra gripped the paper. Roy Fritz, for his part, hung back - though he did give me a questioning look. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°What trickery-¡± she started. ¡°No trickery,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Your name is Teagan Mills. Or it was.¡± ¡°My name is Teagra,¡± she jolted her head towards me. ¡°It always has been.¡± ¡°Who were your parents? Where were they born?¡± I asked. ¡°They¡­died,¡± she said, not answering my questions further. I knew I had punched a nerve, but it might be the only opening I had. ¡°Ja¡­the son of Jason,¡± I said. ¡°He was your betrothed.¡± Teagra¡¯s eyes darted away from the paper and she turned to me with an expression of anger and shock. ¡°Surely you-¡± she started. ¡°What did he trust him¡­and for that matter¡­why did you trust him?¡± I said, gesturing with my hands. ¡°You didn¡¯t know him from Adam, after all.¡± ¡°I know no Adam!¡± Teagra protested. ¡°Sorry,¡± I back-tracked. ¡°It¡¯s an expression.¡± Silence fell like a wall between us. I took some comfort Teagra had skewered me on sight. Yet. ¡°The question remains¡­why did you trust each other?¡± I asked. Teagra, thankfully, put down her sword. She began to hug herself, as if she was warming herself from the cold. ¡°He had such¡­kind eyes¡­and a good nature about him,¡± Teagra said. ¡°I think that¡¯s bullshit,¡± I said. Teagra gave me a questioning gaze. ¡°I think that¡¯s not true,¡± I said. ¡°I think on some level, you knew you two were connected.¡± Teagra didn¡¯t say anything for a moment. Then she turned away. ¡°It matters not,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s dead now. Whatever we had died along with him.¡± I looked to Roy Frtiz, who hovered above the ground, shimmering translucently. ¡°And Simon Meritt..¡± I started. Teagra¡¯s head jerked towards me. ¡°Mayor Merritt gave me all I have,¡± she raised her voice. ¡°He gave me this life.¡± I narrowed my eyes at Teagra. ¡°Yes, by taking the life you had with Jason. That¡¯s how he¡¯s gaining powers. By trapping people here and taking their memories.¡± I turned to Roy Fritz. ¡°That¡¯s what he¡¯s been doing this whole time, right.¡± The ghost shrugged. ¡°In a nutshell.¡± ¡°Simon Merritt rules this land,¡± Teagra said. ¡°He¡¯s the closest thing we have to a king.¡± Roy Fritz looked away for a moment. I fixed my gaze on his transparent form. ¡°That¡¯s not entirely true,¡± Roy said. ¡°I mean, he¡¯s close to a king. He has most of the magic artifacts I wrote about in Shields at Dawn.¡± ¡°Most?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°He may have missed a few,¡± Roy Fritz said sheepishly. ¡°And¡­?¡± I said. ¡°And it might be enough to shift the balance of power,¡± Roy said. ¡°If you could find them.¡± At this, Teagra scoffed. ¡°The Cursed Kings promises long-hidden treasures. I¡¯ve heard enough.¡± For my part, I wasn¡¯t satisfied. ¡°And you know where these treasures lie?¡± I asked. Roy looked away for a moment. ¡°Roughly.¡± I didn¡¯t like this. But then again, I was growing steadily used to that sensation. Maybe I was losing myself to this place. I involuntarily shuddered. As if Roy Fritz had read my mind, he spoke up.¡± ¡°Look I don¡¯t like this anymore than you do,¡± Roy said. ¡°But with those treasures, you could overthrow Merit. Maybe even get home.¡± ¡°You¡¯re wrong, Cursed King Fritzroy,¡± Teagra growled. ¡°I don¡¯t like you at all.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± I said, searching Teagra¡¯s face. Beneath her ferocity, I saw her features creasing with uncertainty. ¡°But if Lord Merit has stolen my past, he must answer for it,¡± she said. ¡°And if these treasures might hold the key to making him pay.¡± She turned to me. ¡°What say you?¡± ¡°Me?¡± I said, slightly dumbfounded. ¡°So you care what I think now?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care for the Cursed King,¡± she said. ¡°But you have proven to be a loyal and true friend of the Son of Jay.¡± She laid her hand on my wrist. ¡°And though I have no recollection of it, I have no doubt that loyalty extended to me¡­once.¡± ¡°So I ask again,¡± I said. ¡°What say you?¡± I felt a stirring within myself that I hadn¡¯t felt in a while. I hadn¡¯t seen Teagan in years, but now, even as the stranger she had become over those years, there was something about her forthrightness that seemed¡­familiar. ¡°I don¡¯t normally associate with ghosts but¡­if there¡¯s a chance we can put this right and get me home,¡± I shrugged. ¡°I say we take it. Just know I haven¡¯t proven myself exactly useful this whole time.¡± ¡°You have saved my life and brought a truth long since forgotten,¡± Teagra said. ¡°What better use is there?¡± She leaned in closer. ¡°The Son of Jay would be well-pleased.¡± ¡°Right, Jason,¡± I said in a small voice. I needed to get home. He needed justice. But that was the furthest thing on my mind until Teagra had reminded me. I looked back to Roy Fritz, the so-called Roy Fritz. ¡°What of you?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m bound to this place. I¡¯m thinking Simon Merit might be my unfinished business,¡± Roy said. ¡°But if you return to me with the treasure in tow, I might able to change said.¡± ¡°And just where is this treasure?¡± I asked. ¡°Beneath the Skull of Steel,¡± Roy Fritz answered ¡°Sounds inviting,¡± I said. ¡°I know where it is,¡± Teagra said. ¡°That was easy,¡± I replied. ¡°It won¡¯t be,¡± Teagra said. She cast a wary eye to Roy Fritz. ¡°We will return his treasure within three days,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t make promises you can¡¯t keep, dear,¡± Roy said. Teagra narrowed her eyes at the spectre. ¡°I do not make promises lightly,¡± she said. She turned to me. ¡°Are you prepared for another adventure, Karl Son of Connan?¡± she said. I sighed. ¡°As I¡¯ll ever be,¡± There was a time I dreamed of going on an adventure with Teagan Mills. Over a decade later, I stood side-by-side with the warrior woman she had become as we both embarked on an epic quest. I didn¡¯t see that coming. It was the first of many.