Entilla

As the ship entered the World Portal, it found itself in the company of a dozen vessels like itself. One a classic space-ship, long and thin, with matte black metal and thrusters. Another a giant dragonfly-like creature, with great red wings, and a rider on top. And even a great mechanical thing—an artsy tetrahedradon of glass, constantly collapsing, and singing in the low hum of a variety of beetles.

Altogether, they descended from a great blue sky, and took their positions in respective lanes. There was no asphalt runway, but there were roads of dirt and mud, segmented by painted lines.

So—the SS Friendship landed, and as it did, it settled on top of a great beast.

“Woah,” Jenn said, looking over the deck. “What is that?”

Underneath was a big, mean-faced turtle, with a reflective sheen like glass, and a width a few dozen metres long.

“An Avenin. They use these adorable creatures to transport stuff. Oh and to crush their enemies, of course. Very convenient. They live off the sun and stars, so the maintenance costs are practically zero!”

The Avenin retracted its head, and fell slow to the ground. As it did, a dozen soldiers approached, hoisting one great ladder, and pressing it against the beast.

The crew of the SS Friendship descended, and as they did, Jenn looked to her friend. Igen had done plenty. For the journey ahead, he'd be best with his group, and absolved of whatever carnage she might next unleash.

As they passed through the border control, and went on the busy crowded streets, the half-bear half-weasel turned to face Jenn. There was understanding in his face. The subtle widening of his big, beady eyes, and the furrow of his furry, red brows.

“Goodbye, friend,” said Igen in his low, perverted voice.

“Be seeing you soon. Don't get too fat without me, okay?”

They shared a brief, serious nod, and as the culmination of their history together, exchanged a high five.

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Igen, waddling away. “Given what just happened, you’re pretty much a generic isekai character, aren’t you?”

Realisation hit Jenn like a freight train.

She had come here from a familiar, modern world. She had been transported by magical means. And she had landed in the familiar rendition of fantasy and isekai together.

“Igen!” Jenn called in mock anger. “What the hell man?! Life was so much better when I didn’t know that!”

Out in the open-air of Indaria, a tall woman could be seen shaking a half-bear, half-weasel creature, laughing and wrestling all the while. And in the closed-space of a tower nearby, a strange individual, unseen to the naked eye, was watching, eyes peeled for his King’s salvation at last.

The ‘high fantasy airport’, as Jenn would discover, had been constructed on the outskirts of the capital of Indaria. So as to preserve the peace of the residential district, and avoid disturbing the locals' way of life.

For Jenn, this meant a long walk to the capital, and for Jenn, a long walk meant great contemplation and sight seeing.

The Capital—Entilla, was built on the joints of two great rivers, and flanked by a sea to its right. Entilla was a large, busy thing, with cobbled stone roads and plazas between its packed, three-storey buildings.

There were locals dressed in big, bright colours, typically blue, but sometimes red and yellow. Tight fit gowns for the women, and dress shirts for the men. All fitted with the badge of the blue hydrangea—all very rich.

The road gave way to another plaza, and in its center clamoured a crowd of many styles. Jenn walked through it, and stared at the object of attention.

It was a piece of paper stapled to a board. On it read ‘How to join his majesty’s tournament!’, and listed directions in five different tongues.

Jenn bit her lip, and did not seem all too displeased. Walking away at once, she left for the narrow streets, and searched for the so-called ‘DMV’ (Department of Major Violence).

It took some guesswork, some thirty minutes of aimless wandering, and ten minutes of bench warming, but Jenn had found it.

The DMV—a grand stone building, with an impossibly large queue outside. One that stretched from one street, to the next, the next next, and the final next, which Jenn watched from in abject despair.

“Oh my lord,” said Jenn, mouth agape, already dying from the heat.

She heard a cry from the tank in front. “You think that's bad, try waiting in here without air conditioning!”

“Oi!” cried another, a superhero in a skintight suit. “Try wearing latex in this heat!”

One more voice joined the fray, a loud static of a boom. “And here I am, wearing latex in a tin can. But I ain't bitching like the rest of you!” That came from the mech in front, a tall, dozen metre high ramshackle.

A seawind breezed by, offering temporary reprieve. Jenn swallowed hard, thought deeply, and furrowed her brows.

“You guys could just get out of your damn things.”

There was a silence, murmurs, then silence again. Conversation next came in three hours, as Jenn was indoors, and heard the exchange of people nearby.

Approaching the DMV employee at long last, Jenn placed her hands on the desk, and heaved a tired sigh.

“Madam.” His accent was thick. “Please do not put your hands on the desk.”

Jenn complied.

“Do you have the documents?”

“The documents?”

“Madam, if you are unable to comply, please fill out the documents and go to the back of the line.”

“Wait—hold on just a second!”

They, as it turned out, did not hold on. Coming forward, two guards picked Jenn under her arms and threw her outside.

Jenn fell on her butt. She was reeling in anger, and shot a glance upwards. From her position, she could see the long nigh infinite line, and with a great deal of despair, returned to the back.

“First time?” said the mech, who had been ahead.

“The last, hopefully.”

This time, as the queue closed into the building, Jenn darted her head frantically, saw a document stand, and swiped both paper and pen.

She slammed the filled documents. “Here!”

“Madam, don’t get angry with me.”

“I’m not,” she said, angry.

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Madam, we have a no-tolerance policy here for violence. If you can’t contain yourself, please exit the building.”

“W-what?” Jenn clenched her fist and vented her frustration with a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright, madam. Do you have the documents?”

Jenn’s eyes trailed down to the documents she had put on the table. The ones that were right in front of the employee. The ones that were obviously, no where else.

“Yes,” she said.

“Alright,” he said.

“Alright?” Jenn asked, suppressing a sigh of relief.

“I’ll see to it right after my lunch break.”

It was a wonder that she did not kill the man right then and there.

Waiting out the next hour and a half in line (for she did not wish to start all over), Jenn watched as the man finally returned.

Taking the paper in hand, the employee read it slowly, flipping through each paper. “Sorry, madam. But the tournament slots have been filled since a week ago. You'll have to find another way in.”

Jenn gave a quick yelp, a mix of a despaired laugh and anger. “What?!” It was pure anguish. “What the hell are the guys behind me waiting for, then?!”

“The same whispered answer. Headstrong protagonists who don't read the rules are everywhere—you included. Next.”

Two guards came to grab her. Jenn was tossed once again, body soaring through the air. But a hand dived forward, and before she could land, caught her in its rustic grip.

Surprised, Jenn shot a look up. The mech loomed over her. A crooked, mismatched thing, which flaked in many places and looked all the cooler for it.

“That's thrice now.”

“Yeah well, well…” She searched for words. “Yeah nevermind I guess I'm just stupid.”

A laugh. “Good,” he said. “It's good you say that.”

“Why?”

“Means you've accepted that you're three standard deviations into unintelligence, and another three into self-awareness.”

The mech’s hand lowered with a grinding creak, shrieking in a chorus of tortured gears.

“Word to the unwise: Sit down, and read the stupid paper.”

Jenn made no protest. With paper in hand, and the exhaustion of waiting all day, she took the opportunity to sit down. A nice little bench by the lake, overseeing a series of bridges.