My red light was blinking, and I didn't even need to check to know what I would see.
Level up
3 to all Traits
Wizard Battle Master level 15
With a sigh, I closed the window. Had I succeeded in raising the class tier again to a "free class," I would have gained a new ability. But alas…
With those morose thoughts, I went looking for answers. I combed through my library, searching for books about the elents—the ones I hadn't read yet. I did find a few, but even a quick skim showed they only dealt with the four major elents or the many secondary ones. There were a lot of secondary elents, more than I had suspected. But no matter how much I searched, there was nothing about First Tier command. tal was a subsection of Earth, not the other way around, and so were the other secondary elents.
A long search in the Archive didn't yield any answers either. Again, I had to wade through a lot of new crap. The Archive was getting weirder by the day.
Tr. BVO:
In Sizitux, do not accept tea from anyone who says, "It is polite to finish the cup." The cup refills itself.
Tr. UN:
So? What's the problem?
Tr. BVO:
They consider it a mortal insult if you pee in their toilet. You must do it only in yours.
Tr. UN:
Assholes.
Tr. ZC:
Pee in their living room.
Tr. BBN:
What he said.
Tr. BVO:
I tried explaining it was an ergency. They explained that ergencies build mana reserves.
Tr. So:
Still not seeing the issue. Just hold it.
Tr. FV:
That's weaponized hospitality.
Tr. ZC:
Establish dominance. Pee while maintaining eye contact.
Tr. BVO:
Their "living room" is a sacred space with chanting priests.
Tr. So:
Even better. Audience.
Tr. BVO:
Also, the tea is diuretic.
Tr. UN:
Of course it is.
Tr. BP:
What's a diuretic?
Tr. BVO:
Makes you want to pee even more.
Tr. So:
See? Cultural enrichnt.
Tr. BVO:
I broke and used their toilet and was banned from the city, and sothing called "future incarnations into the holy line."
Tr. ZC:
Sneak in invisible, and pee in their living room on the priests.
Tr. JA:
ZC is a pervert.
Tr. BBN:
What he said.
Tr. ZC:
BBN, you were on my side for the living room idea.
For a mont, I considered writing to ask Lis. He was my sensei, after all, but I ultimately decided against it. After so many years as a Traveler and a Wizard, it was ti to stand on my own taphorical feet. Besides, every ti I figured out sothing on my own, I gained levels and a satisfying sense of accomplishnt.
The unsuccessful hunt for answers lasted four days, and I'd had enough of the dark underground city. It was ti to et people again. Looking at the Map, I considered returning to the sa town I'd visited before, but decided against it. They were too strange and had an annoying habit of manhandling . No thank you.
On the other side of the mountain range was another town, farther away than the first, but the distance wasn't significant. With my flight ability, it ant nothing.
This ti, I didn't layer myself with warm clothes. Of course, I still wore my amazing cloak, but only the cloak. I had to push more mana through the Fire channels and into the one leading to my nose to keep it from freezing, but that was the only hardship. It took about forty minutes to reach the other town, and it looked almost identical to the first one. Sa long log houses with smoke and steam chimneys, sa huge round comrcial center built from logs, and the sa tall people with dreadlocks dressed in furs. The only real differences were that this town was smaller, about thirty houses instead of forty, and they seed to be preparing for so kind of celebration.
Evergreen wreaths with acorns and blue ribbons decorated the comrcial center and the houses, their deep green color standing out against the white snow. Long wooden tables had been set outside, already covered with cloths that fluttered in the wind. Won hurried between them, their arms full of plates and jugs, arranging food and drinks while calling out instructions to one another. The air slled of roasted at and spiced ale, and made my stomach gurgle. Near the center, five n manned an enormous grill, turning slabs of at over the fire while an even bigger stack waited beside them. Laughter and chatter filled the air, blending with the crackle of flas and the rhythmic thud of boots on packed snow as more people joined in the preparations.
For a mont, I thought about leaving. It wasn't my celebration, after all. But then I changed my mind and decided to see how they'd react to my arrival. Besides, even if they couldn't fully appreciate my progress, I needed to show off to soone—whether they understood the significance or not.
I landed just outside the town on the main road, took off my cloak, and slipped my hands into my pockets for extra flair. I made sure no one could see that stretch of road, turned visible, and started walking toward the celebration. On both sides of , the snow shot away in high, graceful arcs, parting like a massive highway snowplow clearing the way. Each step left a smooth trail behind, and the twin streams of flying snow sparkled in the light like scattered diamonds. I couldn't help but grin. It looked dramatic as hell, and for once, I truly felt like a badass.
The people in town looked at almost the sa way the last group had. With that mix of shock and disbelief, like they were watching a bear perform ballet in a tutu. But this ti, when their eyes shifted to the snow arcs trailing beside , their expressions changed. The awe gave way to sothing quieter, more cautious. Not fear exactly, but a wordless acknowledgnt that I was stronger than them. I didn't just see it in their faces; I could feel the emotions rolling off them like ripples in the air. Good. Maybe this ti, they wouldn't grab or call cursed.
A tall, smiling girl with blond dreadlocks approached. "Did you co for the wedding?" she asked, her tone light and welcoming.
"Who's getting married?" I asked, curious despite myself.
"Whispering Wind and Sharp Blade." Her smile widened.
I shifted my weight, feeling a bit awkward about the whole thing. "No. I didn't know you were having a wedding. I'm just passing through."
She glanced over her shoulder at an even taller woman standing a short distance away, the kind who looked like she could lift a car without breaking a sweat. The two exchanged a brief look, and the taller woman gave a small nod.
The girl turned back to , her expression brightening again. "It would be our honor if you stayed for the wedding and shared songs with us."
I blinked at her, confused. "Wait, what?"
Her brow furrowed, mirroring my look. "Songs," she repeated slowly, as if the word itself should have explained everything.
I almost facepald and opened my profile to check. Just as I suspected, my visible class was still set to Bard, the one I had switched to back in Quassior.
Well, it was as good an excuse as any to see a wedding in another world. "I'll share so songs," I said.
Her face lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight before dashing off through the snow. "Wind! I found a Bard for you!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "I'm the best sister! You owe that mirror!"
This was shaping up to be more interesting than I expected.
I found a spot near the edge of the square, half hidden behind a stack of firewood and a few barrels. From there, I had a good view of everything without being in anyone's way. The air was thick with laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic clatter of dishes being set out. Children ran past with ribbons in their hair, chasing each other between tables while the sll of grilled at hung heavy in the cold air. Soone was tuning a string instrunt nearby, its sharp notes cutting through the noise before blending back into it.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
A few villagers noticed and ca over. They still looked a bit bewildered when looking at , but they also smiled in welco, which was nice.
"A winter's welco to you, Bard," one said, a broad-shouldered man with frost on his beard. "It's good luck to have music at a wedding."
Another woman pressed a wooden mug into my hands. Steam curled from it, carrying that familiar scent. I took a sip and winced at the sour-bitter taste I rembered all too well from the other town. She laughed softly. "Strong, yes? It warms the chest."
I nodded, forcing a smile as the cider burned its way down. Around , the village buzzed with life—voices rising and falling, laughter echoing, and the sll of smoke and roasting at mingling with the crisp winter air. It was chaotic, loud, and strangely comforting. I just sat back and let the world move around .
While sitting there, I tried to think of what to sing. Their language was too rough and guttural for lody, full of hard consonants and sharp endings, with barely enough vowels to carry a tune. Every word felt like it wanted to be shouted from a mountaintop instead of sung. I humd softly, testing a few notes, but even that sounded wrong, like trying to turn a hamr strike into a lullaby.
So I stopped forcing it and let my mind wander. Maybe singing was not the way to go. These people didn't seem like the gentle, harp-listening type. They were broad-shouldered, loud, and proud, their laughter rolling through the square like thunder. The n's beards were tied with bits of tal and bone, and most of the won had arms strong enough to wrestle a bear. They looked like Vikings. Sort of. The closest sea was thousands of kiloters away, and there was not a ship in sight, but if soone had told these were Norse warriors on vacation, I would have believed it.
A story, then. Sothing grand, sothing with honor and battle and a hall full of feasting warriors. Music could help set the tone, a steady rhythm like marching feet, and illusions to paint the tale in the air. Valhalla ca to mind, the warriors' paradise from Earth's myths. I combed through my mory for everything I knew: bits from history classes, fragnts from old legends I had read back when I was still searching for answers about the Gate, and, admittedly, most of it from the Avengers movies I had watched with Rue. That should do. If nothing else, it would be entertaining.
The wedding started soon after sunset. The bonfires were lit, their light flickering across the snow and the faces gathered around the great circle of tables. Drums began to beat in a steady rhythm, matching the stamping of boots and the clapping of hands. The bride and groom stood in the center, both tall and broad, wrapped in fur and wearing crowns of evergreen and blue ribbons. She had a scar on her cheek that did nothing to hide her beauty, and he had shoulders like a boulder.
When the vows ended, the crowd erupted in cheers. People surged forward to congratulate the pair, offering gifts of food, carved trinkets, and furs. The newlyweds laughed, hugged, and shouted to everyone around them.
Then, through the noise, I spotted the sa blond girl from before, standing on a table and waving her arms for attention. "See? I told you I found a Bard!" she yelled proudly, pointing at . "Best wedding gift ever!" Her grin could have lit up the entire square.
When she pulled the couple toward , I took out a barrel of whiskey. "A gift," I said, setting it down with a solid thud. "Strong stuff. Drink carefully."
The groom's eyes widened, and a murmur went through the crowd. Then ca the back slaps, one after another, each harder than the last. I barely stayed on my feet, swaying under the enthusiastic gratitude of n who clearly thought affection and blunt force were the sa thing.
"Good man! You honor the wedding!" one roared.
"Bard with strong gifts and strong shoulders!" another laughed.
When they finally let breathe again, soone handed a cup of that sour cider, and I decided it was as good a mont as any to earn my keep. I sat on a barrel, tuned my guitar, and strumd a few warm-up chords. The sound drew a hush over the square, the crackle of fire and the pop of embers filling the quiet that followed.
I began softly, letting the lody set the tone. Then, with a faint shimr of light, the air above the flas shifted. An image took form: warriors sitting around a long wooden table, golden cups in hand, laughing.
"Where warriors feast after their final battle," I said, letting my voice carry with the music. The crowd leaned in, wide-eyed.
I played faster, and the illusion changed. Warriors clashed with monsters in frozen fields, their shields shining in the cold light. The flas flickered higher as the hall reappeared, now filled with roaring cheer and endless ad.
When I reached the part about the gates of Valhalla opening, a bright shimr flared above the firepit. The crowd gasped, and soone shouted, "The hall of endless cups!" The bride laughed and threw her arms around her husband, and the groom raised his cup toward the illusion as if to toast it.
The music swelled, then slowed, the last notes fading into the night. The flas returned to normal, the images gone. For a long mont, there was only silence, broken by the sound of wind through the trees. Then the cheering began. They stomped their feet, clapped, and shouted my na, calling for more stories. I smiled, bowed a little, and took another sip of that awful cider.
Under the crowd's pressure, I gave in and told another story. This ti, an abbreviated version of the movie Thor. Since I was in another world, Marvel couldn't exactly sue for theft.
I started with lightning striking above the bonfires, the illusion lights shifting into storm clouds. A hamr spun through the air, glowing with streaks of lightning, and a tall figure appeared, golden-haired and smug enough to make even the groom snort in derision.
"This is Thor," I said, keeping the tone light. "He likes hitting things. A lot."
Laughter rippled through the square. When the illusion showed Thor getting knocked down by his father's magic and banished to Earth, the villagers booed, shouting protests at the scene.
"That's not fair!" a broad-shouldered man near the barbecue yelled.
"He's your son!" an older woman shouted, waving her spoon like a weapon.
"Your fault he's a moron!" soone else called out, to general laughter.
"Send the old man instead!" a drunk voice suggested, slurring the words.
"This is why gods should not raise children," a woman near said dryly, shaking her head in disappointnt.
I almost lost my rhythm laughing.
Then I shifted the tune, a slower lody for his lessons among mortals. When I showed Thor trying to lift his hamr and failing, the entire crowd groaned as one. The bride shouted, "Fool! Too proud!"
Finally, the hamr flew back into Thor's hand amid flashes of lightning, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When the last spark faded, and the music died down, soone yelled, "Tell another one, Bard!"
"Maybe later," I said. "Even storytellers need to breathe."
That earned another round of laughter, a few friendly shoves, and yet another cup of that wretched cider.
During the evening, I sohow earned myself two groupies who stuck to like glue and glared daggers at every girl who tried to get close. Both looked about twenty to twenty-five, dressed in fur-trimd tunics that slled faintly of smoke and pine. The one with light brown dreadlocks and freckles was the culprit behind the awful cider, but I didn't hold it against her. She ant well, and her grin was infectious. The other, taller and quieter, had sharp gray eyes and hair the color of wet sand. She watched everything around her like a hawk, especially .
When the wedding finally wound down, the drums softened, and laughter rolled through the square like a warm tide. Then, with a sudden cheer, the crowd surged forward. Dozens of hands lifted the bride and groom into the air, carrying them shoulder-high amid lewd jokes and laughter. The newlyweds shouted back, just as lewd, as the crowd swept them away toward one of the longhouses.
My two shadows lingered behind, watching until the last of the group disappeared through the doorway. They exchanged a quick, knowing glance, then looked around to make sure no one else remained in sight. Satisfied, they grinned like conspirators caught in the act.
"Co. You stay with us," the freckled one said as both of them grabbed one of my hands and half-dragged through the snow.
They led to one of the long log houses near the edge of the settlent. The door creaked open to a wave of warm, smoky air that slled of pine resin and lingering firewood. Inside, the hall stretched ahead, dimly lit by oil lamps set along the walls, with doors on both sides. The sound of the celebration outside faded behind us, replaced by the soft crackle of a hearth sowhere deeper in the house.
The girls half-dragged, half-carried inside. I tried to stand and walk on my own, but they didn't seem to notice, still holding firmly by the arms as if afraid I might escape. We passed rows of drying furs until we reached a smaller chamber tucked near the end.
The room was simple but cozy, with a low fire burning in the fireplace, and thick pelts covering a raised wooden platform that passed for a bed. A few carved stools stood against the wall, and a pair of clay mugs rested on a shelf near a small window sealed with oiled parchnt.
The freckled girl pushed back on the bed with a grin, her laughter mingling with the faint crackle of the fire. She jumped on , and her friend followed, moving with surprising gentleness for soone her size. I tried to rember their nas but ca up blank. They hadn't bothered sharing them, and I didn't ask. I shrugged ntally and went with the flow.
Well, the flow was a lot of fun. Heat and laughter mixed with the scent of pine and smoke, the firelight painting shifting shadows on the walls. It was a novel experience for in more ways than one. The first ti with two girls, the first ti with won so much bigger than physically—both taller than by two heads with breasts bigger than my head—and definitely the first ti I needed two of Al's "endurance" potions just to keep up.
In the morning, a thunderous pounding on the door jolted awake. The wall shook, and for a second I thought the roof might co down. The freckled girl sat up instantly, eyes wide, her hair a wild halo in the firelight. Her friend froze for half a heartbeat, then hissed sothing sharp that didn't sound friendly.
"Father," the taller one whispered, pale now. "And brothers."
Before I could even sit up properly, they were both moving. The freckled girl shoved my clothes into my hands and yanked by the arm while the other grabbed my shoulder with surprising strength.
"Out. Now," the gray-eyed one said under her breath, already pulling toward the small window at the back of the room.
"Wait, what—" I started, but they didn't wait.
The freckled girl lifted the oiled parchnt, unlatched the shutter, and pushed it open. A gust of icy air rushed in. The next thing I knew, they were both hauling toward it.
"Go!" she whispered urgently, her voice tight with panic. "They kill you if they catch you!"
And then, with far less care than I would've liked, they shoved through the opening.
I hit a snowdrift head-first, and the cold introduced itself to every square centiter of my body as the window slamd shut above . For a mont, I just lay there, snow lting against my back, staring up at the pale morning sky while muffled shouting echoed from inside.
Well, traveling was all about new experiences. Apparently, that included being thrown out of a window naked. At least that's what I told myself while I hurried to pull my clothes on in the freezing cold before flying back toward the underground city.
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