Ela looks away, blushing, as I study her thoughtfully across the table we sit at in Bret’s kitchen. She fidgets as I continue to gaze into her eyes with my head propped in one hand, an elbow on the tabletop. The smell of roasted meat and something that resembles pumpkin fills the kitchen.

Biting her lip, Ela gazes down at the table and asks, “Are you… are you okay?”

I smile faintly, thinking. As I stare at Ela, I watch her growing nervouser by the moment. Bret approaches the table, holding a wooden tray to set it firmly onto the table.

“Didn’t anyone teach you that it’s rude to rest your elbows on a dinner table during a meal?” Bret says as he sets a bowl of food in front of Ela. She looks at the bowl and delicately sniffs at it and lifting a wooden fork, her lips compress.

“What?” Sitting up, I drop my arms to my sides, looking at Bret in astonishment.

“You didn’t?” Bret laughs. “Being as I’ve never broken bread with pilgrims, I didn’t know that they’ve their own set of dinner customs.”

Thinking carefully about Bret’s criticism of my habits, I shake my head. Since Halima’s brain isn’t offering me anything helpful, I can’t be sure that Bret’s not just messing with me.

“I’m sorry.” I bow from a seated position. “I didn’t know about your customs here. I’ll do my best to remember.”

“It’s alright.” Bret laughs. “But staring at Ela like that is probably ruder than putting your elbows on someone’s tabletop any day.”

Ela flushes and fidgets, picking at the food in her bowl and says, “It’s okay. I’m just not used to…” She trails off.

Taking the opportunity to look in the bowl that Bret puts in front of me, I smile broadly. Slices of a simply seasoned meat are piled in the bowl with their juices mingling with yellow vegetables with a greenish rind clinging to some of them, cut to the size of a thumb making a small hill next to a pile of meat.

Looking around the kitchen, I hope that this world at least has some soy sauce for seasoning. Not seeing anything, not even seasoning shakers, I sigh dismally.

“Um…” Ela gulps. “Hana, could you please eat my share of this meat?”

Blinking at her question, I shake my head. “A balanced meal is composed of protein, vegetables, fruits, grains and dairy. You should eat the meat to keep your strength up.”

“I don’t need to eat meat for that.” Ela frowns. “My… my kind don’t eat anything but vegetables and fruit… bread is alright. What is dairy?” Ela asks me with a wondering look in her eyes.

“Sounds like a rich man’s diet.” Bret laughs. “A poor man’s hearty meal of a helping of boiled tupkas and stag meat’s more than enough.” Spearing a slice of roasted meat from his bowl, Bret stuffs it into his mouth with a broad smile. “You mentioned that you know some very complicated recipes that you didn’t think you could make using my kitchen, didn’t you?” Bret looks at me, speaking with his mouth still half-full of food. 

And he talks about good manners.

“Ah, yes… but… what I…” I laugh, looking away for a moment, thinking. “What I can cook requires very specific kinds of foods that I don’t think you have on hand. Rice, soy sauce, miso, eggs, seaweed and other, umm—exotic vegetables, breadcrumbs, cooking wine, and an array of spices that aren’t likely to exist around here.”

Bret looks at me with a thoughtful expression as he forks a chunk of the yellow vegetable into his mouth. “None of those sounds familiar to me, but it all sounds like a royal banquet to me.”

My face falls and my heart sinks as Ela munches at the vegetables in her bowl. She smiles as she chews delicately and gives a small shrug.

 “Except for one of them,” Bret says thoughtfully. “My mother told me about a food that used to come via the old trade route through the Feylands. It was a kind of exotic grain, white and oblong. It came in large burlap bags.”

My eyes widen in realization. “Rice?” I ask.

“Raizsu.” Bret chuckles with a nod. “Sounds suspiciously similar. Maybe your people up in Pinesdale had a cache of such goods from the far east from over thirty years past. I suppose that would explain why you might know about Raizsu and strange ingredients. Too bad it’s all likely been destroyed when your village burned down. If it hadn't, you might have been able to show me your style of cooking. But come to think about it, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Why isn’t there more raizsu around?” I ask as I try the yellow vegetable. When I bite down, my mouth is filled with that pumpkin-like flavor starchy mush whose scent fills the kitchen. It tastes like a potato if it was somehow cross-bred with pumpkins!

Stuffing another slice of meat into his mouth, Bret has nearly finished chewing it when he says, “These parts haven’t seen any since Mulga went and summoned the Demon Baron and ‘cause of that, trade routes with the east started falling apart. Fact is, we’re isolated from the rest of the world over here. I expect that the Demon Baron will turn his gaze down south just about as soon as he gets tired of throwing his armies of monsters against Lapvia. Makes sense that he sent the majority of his forces to the east, since they’re the biggest dogs. Without their templars, our world’ll most likely fall.”

Ela stands abruptly and lifts her bowl to walk around and puts it down near me, still full of meat and the tupka soaked with the juices. “Since you can digest meat, it’s best you have my share.”

“If you’re still hungry, Ela,” Bret says, sounding apologetic. “I’m sorry. I was so caught up in what I was doing that I forgot about what you said about not being a meat eater. I didn’t really believe you, since I’ve never met anyone who turns down good meat at the table. There’s still plenty of the boiled tupka in that pot.” He points with his fork.

Shaking her head so much her body shakes and her hair swings, Ela smiles and says, “Thank you. I’ll be fine. I just need to get a breath of fresh air.”

Bret nods, looking thoughtful as Ela leaves the house, shutting the door behind. I wonder why Ela seems so depressed all of a sudden when she’s been relatively positive so far.

“The King commissioned a fleet of ships, I hear.” Bret says idly after a while once we’ve finished eating.

“Why? To reopen trade by sea?” I ask, wondering what Bret’s getting at.

“Some of ‘em are docked at Alversbridge and the rest are docked down at Wordscrest.” Bret frowns.

“Why?” I press.

Bret shakes and sighs. “I’m not sure why, but I don’t think the King’s aim’s to reopen trade. The fleet hasn't made a move yet. Maybe to evacuate some lucky nobles or some such.”

My lips purse thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to look for allies in the east, getting help with standing against this Demon Baron?”

“It might make some sense, Hana,” Bret shakes his head in disgust. “If four of the nations of Euphonia weren’t cowards, that would work. I’ll explain, since you don’t seem to get how things are. Lapvia was most recently at war against Mulga before the Demon Baron came into existence and that war ended with his birth. Soon afterwards, the event transformed that country into the Damned Lands of Monsters, Mulgath we know today.”

Mulling over what he’s saying, I frown and ask incredulously, “...these Lapvians are ultimately responsible for the Demon Baron’s coming?” After saying that, I stuff in another piece of juicy stag meat and chew it along with the problem he’s given me.

“Naw.” Bret laughs ruefully and slaps a hand down onto his table. “And— yeah. It’s funny how yesterdays’ villains can just like that become today’s protectors, isn’t it? You’re a mite too clueless even for a pilgrim.” Bret rises, taking his bowl over to the kitchen’s sink. It clutters as he chucks it into the washing basin and starts pouring in cold water to scrub them.

“Villains? Just because they were at war doesn’t mean—” I ask with a raised eyebrow and rush to finish the rest of Ela’s share of meat.

“Right.” Bret chuckles lamely over his shoulder. “So my old father told me, we was all scared shitless of them, and it was looking like the Lapvians had all but conquered Mulga and once they consolidated their grip on those lands, they’d move south against us.”

So they’re hungry to carve themselves an Empire. “There have always been countries that weren’t satisfied with what they have and committed atrocities in the name of expansion and national pride. But what makes them villains when that’s status quo?”

Stopping washing, Bret turns towards me with a blink. “Do you pilgrims keep records from the darkest ages before Eschala was founded?”

“I don’t know…” I blush, looking away. Shit… that’s my world. Maybe it doesn’t apply to his… but it only makes sense that empires have always existed and always will form in some sense. “So how did the Mulgans stop the invasion? Did they—?”

Bret frowns but shakes his head and goes on, “The Mulgans summoned him as I said. I don’t know exactly how and when they did it, that act changed this world. All I know is that they were lookin’ for salvation. They were all alone. No one would step in and risk the war spreading into their own lands. Alver, included.”

I stand, putting my hands on the table, leaning on it and looking down at the surface of the table. “Why didn’t Alver at least help? I get the impression that it's the closest.”

Bret shrugs and turns back to his washing, saying in a mild tone, “We were once close, the two nations of the west. We betrayed each other and relations had been cold until the time when the Lapvians started attacking its neighboring lands.”

“I see…” I say, not sure what to say. They backstabbed each other… but it had to start with a single act that ruined their relationship. “What do you know of the reason why Mulga and Alver stopped being allies?”

Bret shifts from foot to foot, making extra noise with his washing as though he’s scrubbing furiously. “We don’t know much these days, but we know that Alver looks down on beastkin and Mulga stood for their rights.”

“... Sounds like Mulga had the right idea.” Bret makes Alver sound like a nation of human supremacists. 

Bret scoffs and laughs. “Don’t try to make Mulga sound like they were nothing but saints and Alver’s people sinners. Things aren’t that simple. What matters today is that they damned us all with their summoning and now the Lapvians and their Orthodox Church are all that’s standing between us and oblivion.”

Standing, I nod, taking my bowl over to the kitchen and wait for Bret to finish washing. “I’ll take care of the rest, Bret.” That’s only fair.

“Using what you said about the Lapvians, the villains turned into this world’s heroes?”

“Again, yeah and nah.” Bret finishes scrubbing a pot and rinses it with a pitcher to set it aside. “They’re still greedy to form their empire, subjugating and converting everyone to their church’s faith, but can’t do that with the Demon Baron menacing their northwestern borders. You weren’t entirely wrong. There were many wars before the Mulgan-Lapvian.”

I nod knowingly. There’s no way this was some kind of an eden before the coming of the Demon Baron. 

Bret resumes, “Let me tell you about one of the wars before then for example.” He raises a slightly swollen finger from washing dishes. “A long time ago Eschala stood against their invasions time after time, losing more and more territory as time passed, falling back into their great fortress capital as a series of wars progressed, leaving them only their southern lands untouched. That war ended with Dauthstone standing against the best the Lapvians sent against them. But that didn’t end the wars. The Lapvians turn next to Yijan further to the east. Expecting an attack, they met Lapvian incursions with surprising force. Their repeated invasions were met spear for sword, making them the only country that  the Lapvians haven’t conquered. They would have gobbled Alver for their dessert after the Mulgan war if Mulga hadn’t summoned the Demon Baron. The Lapvians might have tried it sooner if it weren’t for the Feylands that isolate us today.”

This world seems like it was in all kinds of trouble even before the Demon Baron came to be. Just how hard has this place had it throughout its history?

“Why did Mulga summon a demon? Out of desperation? Did they reach out to any force that had the power to drive out the Lapvians?” I ask, as Bret stands aside and turns to the remaining pots to clean up.

“Leave those to me.” I bark as he lifts a pot.

“My house, my rules. Save your energy for fencing. Being more tired will help me take it easy on you.” He grunts as he sets the pot down by the sink and starts scrubbing out some tough-looking crusted crud left over from where he probably roasted the stag meat.

“Fair enough.” I sigh, putting my hands up in defeat. “Do you know why the Demon Baron even exists?” I press Bret as a sheen of sweat beads on his brow while he rubs a mesh of metal across the interior. The resulting screeching noises make me wince.

“I guess it was as you think, out of desperation, but from what the few refugees that got this far told us, it was an attempt to summon a hero of some such, not a demon. Not that I believe in those old hero legends.” Bret grumbles as he continues to scrub.

“Heroes  have been summoned here in the past?”

Bret barks a laugh as he straightens, knuckling his back. “I don’t believe in heroes. All we’ve got is our adventurers. Legends of extremely powerful heroes summoned from another world, heh. When I was a kid, I liked those kinds of tales. Stories of Elves and summoned heroes that supposedly saved our world numerous times long in the past. Fantasies like that don’t put food on your table and don’t protect people. Give em’ a bit of hope maybe, but Sir Mordet knocked such foolish dreams from my head years ago. Man’s a total realist, only believes what he can see and touch.”

“Do you believe in Elves?” I ask, wondering. “If this world had some, do they still exist somewhere?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Bret scoffs. “Elves exist only in old books and people don’t live that long, hero or not. Came purely out of imagination.”

“What about these Feylands that you mentioned?” I muse, interested in the name of the place. “The word ‘fey’ suggests the existence of fairies. What are these lands?”

“Just an extension of the Damned Lands.” Bret scowls. “It’s been like that long before the Demon Baron came around. Nothing there but Pucks, Imps, assorted other nasty critters populate that narrow strip of land what separates us from Lapvia, Escshala and the Far East. Merchant trains were protected by senior adventurers whenever they crossed those lands. Most of them made it through.”

I frown skeptically, running fingers through my hair. If the Feylands are so dangerous, I can see why people don’t try to casually pass through.

“You ready to learn how to handle a sword?” Bret asks.

With a blink and a bright grin, I rush to get my sword from where it rests in a corner of the room that Ela and I are borrowing from Bret. “Nah… stop, HANA!”

I freeze and skid to a stop before entering the room and look over my shoulder with shock, “You really want to use real swords to train? I don’t recommend that.” He laughs as he walks over to a closet in the kitchen and pulls out two lengths of wood from the inside.

“Ohhhh…” I blush. With real swords, someone would eventually get hurt, plus this thing could give someone tetanus. I think about the rusted length of my new blade.

“Minne’s a good woman,” Bret says with a smirk. “A mite too sarcastic and she doesn’t know a sword tip from a hilt. Suggesting that you practice with it implies that you’d have live creatures to butcher for the sake of learning the sword. All she knows about them is that they’ll cut a body up.” Bret laughs. “Save yours for any quests you might take after gaining your license.”

Closing the distance between us, Bret hands me one of the lengths of wood. They faintly resemble boken. “Used these for my training with Sir Mordet and still use ‘em for sparring when I can line someone up for it. Truthfully, I’m glad that you came along. He’s taken me about as far as he can, and to make further progress says Sir Mordet, I need a student of my own to spar with. He’s always said that a good teacher learns things while he teaches.”

I smile as Bret leads the way out to an open space in his garden. He holds his practice blade up at an angle and holds his free hand slightly behind him.

Watching him stretch his legs, I do the same and take a similar pose. “Good!” he grins. “We’ll go slowly to start with. The biggest thing to do is protect your limbs. You need to learn how to protect yourself before anything else. Lose a leg or your free arm and you’ve likely already lost the fight. Don’t let me score a hit on any of your limbs. I’ll go for those. Let’s see how you block my attacks.”

Bret dances forward and slashes at my free arm, just slow enough for me to sidestep. “Mhm…” Bret smiles when I do.

“Good. I expected you to try to shift enough to meet my slice with your sword, but if dodging is enough, that’s exactly right. But… you overcompensated and moved a mite too far from your position. To save stamina long term, you need to try to minimize your motions. The bigger your leaps or side steps, the less energy you’ll have left to deflect others…”

He lowers himself somewhat slowly, and yet quickly enough to take me somewhat by surprise when he pivots and swipes to hit both of my legs. Jumping and raising my blade, I bring it down towards Bret’s head. With a startled expression, he rolls and narrowly evades my blade that swipes through the space where he was crouched to hit the grass and rebound. Spinning upwards he scores a firm strike against the side of my head.

My brain rattles in my skull as he laughs and my fingers twitch as I drop my practice sword. “Idiot. I didn’t say you can attack me yet. If you attack me, I’ll respond automatically. If we were using real swords, you know how this would have ended.”

I rub the sore spot on the side of my head and grumble, nodding. “I’m sorry. I got ahead of myself. When I saw an opening, I couldn’t resist trying.”

Bret’s laughter deepens as he shrugs. “If you don’t mind taking more hits like that, feel free to try to take advantage of any openings you see. I’d be surprised if you manage to hit me this early in your training. Be prepared to ache tonight if you do.” He grins. “And don’t forget that you still have to look for some work tomorrow to start making some gelts. Your days will be filled with work and hauling water if you’re set on taking a bath each day. More than enough to do to not have to worry about learning how to fell a tree for firewood on top of everything else.”

Bending, I pick up my practice blade and extend it. Thinking about how Vayne fought the goblins, I wonder if I can replicate some of what he did. His motions were flowing, unlike Bret’s, although Bret is pretty talented too.

“You ready?” Bret asks me with a serious expression, holding his sword out in the same way as before.

WIth a nod, I hold up my sword and wait for Bret to attack. He leaps forward, somewhat faster than before to bring his sword down onto my shoulder joint in an overhand strike. My head sharply aches and I raise my sword to meet his and the blades klack as they meet by my ear. Bret nods approvingly. I pivot and shift my weight on my heel sliding my practice sword along his and as my blade nears his fingers, Bret flicks his blade and knocks my blade clear and off with narrowed eyes. He turns to strike my side, and as he moves, I turn and hold my sword vertically, stabbing it into the ground and his practice blade smacks hard into mine, making the whole length shiver.

“Not bad.” Bret grins. My eyes widen and I suddenly see the smirking face of the debtor that came to the door of my parent’s house to seize it. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. Her face interposes over Bret’s and my face turns red. He turns and easily smacks his blade against my left thigh.

“You just lost that leg.” Bret chuckles. “I didn’t think you were the type to lose your head over compliments. I’ll keep that in mind about you. At least goblins aren’t likely to ever compliment you unless they tell you that you look delicious.” Bret holds his sword up with a grin. “Let’s see what you do with a…” Quickly, Bret puts his other hand onto his practice blade’s hilt and drives his blade at me to stab me in my stomach.

Grunting and coughing, I glare at Bret, grateful that he doesn’t understand my reaction.

Not waiting, Bret thrusts again at me. Still seeing her face overlaid across Bret’s, I think about Vayne and sidestep his thrust and using the torque of my motion, I put my other hand on my hilt like Bret did, slicing with built up momentum. With a surprised expression, Bret falls to the grass and spins to kick my feet from under me as he evades my slice. He scores a solid hit on my legs and I fall down into a heap.

Bret laughs. “You’re not bad. Probably better than me when I was when I started. Almost like you have some kind of the foundations of a sword style.” Climbing up onto his knees, Bret sets his sword in front of him. “You have a good basis for a sword form, but you don’t have the strength for it as you are right now, something that you most likely suspect. We’ll…”

“Your girl here ain’t too bad, Bret,” A male voice calls over the nearby white fence that surrounds Bret’s home. I look and find an oldish man leaning against the fence, holding a basket. “You teaching your bride how to fight?” He rubs his beard thoughtfully.

Bret rolls his eyes and walks over to the fence to clap hands with the man. “We’re not like that, Jak.”

I rise and dust off my pants.

“You could’ve fooled me, bringing two lovely gals to your home.” Jak laughs raucously. “You’re the talk of the town already for that. Speaking of, the other un’ ran off that way.” He points down the narrow street. I hate to say so, but she looked mighty distressed. You hit her?”

Bret shakes his head negatively and I blink. Ela ran off? Was she that bothered? I thought she’d be waiting out here in the garden, not thinking to look for her.