Re-Becoming a Nerd (3)

“This is amazing,” she’d say over and over again.

The next day’s trip to Silvercross was uneventful. All Annabelle did was pop out random cards from her Codex and ask me versions of the same question over and over. What colour’s this one? How about this one? Ooh, I see, so the higher the tier, the brighter…

Frankly, I was sick of it. Big deal if I could see things others’ couldn’t—it didn’t matter if I wasn’t able to execute on those visions. It was like being born with the insane gift of being able to churn out isekai at the rate of 1,500 words per half day with excellent storytelling and high fantasy motifs, except you are a white American with zero ability to speak or read Japanese in an era with no AI translation tools and also Shosetsuka ni Naro is locked behind a firewall in this timeline instead of the entirety of China. I wondered if there would one day be a trailblazing Japanese company that would bridge the gap between poor white people and their Asian dream, perhaps through a talent-seeking global contest. Speaking of colour, Annabelle had earlier let me attempt to cast some colourless spells from her Codex, but none of them worked. The only saving grace I could think of was that they were all considered Intermediate rather than the Basic spells I’d been attempting earlier, so perhaps I wasn’t completely dysfunctional, just really fucking bad.

Annabelle had clearly reached a different conclusion from myself regarding this, however.

Just outside the gates of Silvercross, guarded by a small contingent of knights bearing the standard of Calice, Annabelle suddenly stopped me before we made contact with the guards.

“Primot… no, Rowan. Listen.”

“...Huh?”

I could tell right away that the topic was serious. But come on, stop behaving like that. Why are you swaying your shoulders back and forth? I can’t focus. And stop twirling your hair, please.

Just kidding. There was no such thing.

“...I thought about it, and I think that we need to set a few ground rules before we head into the city.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. No touching, we’re not dating, separate rooms at the inn, et cetera…”

“Wh-what? No, that doesn’t really matter to me,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. Huh? Huh?? “I was more so referring to your identity.”

“I’m straight,” I declared.

“...First of all, I did think about buying you a disguise first and then coming back to get you, but I thought that would be too suspicious. It’s not normal for an apprentice to be allowed outside their sect without being accompanied by someone more highly ranked, and I don’t have the money, anyway…”

“I’m into women.”

“...I also thought about just telling the truth about your identity, but if we ran into any other Templars before getting to my sect, it might be tricky to convince them to let me handle this matter all by myself. There’s also no telling in what way they might choose to intervene. So, I’ve decided that for now, you need to take Rowan’s identity.”

“I like…” Partway through, my ironic desires to derail the conversation collapsed once I realised this topic was actually important. Annabelle had been weirdly open about the circumstances of my appearance, but that didn’t necessarily mean everyone would be. On top of that, passing by various settlements as we made our way towards made it evidently clear that I did not look remotely similar to anyone else in this region—maybe even the world of the Higher Continent. It was better if I laid low and put real thought into hiding my presence.

“...Yeah, sure. I guess you’re right after all.”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “So, let’s make sure you keep your hood up at all times.”

“Makes sense. But about that dating thing, I just want to make it clear that—”

“Secondly, if anyone asks, you’re Rowan the Elder. Say you’re busy and to direct questions to me, your apprentice. It goes without saying, but wear his uniform as well. Most importantly, cover up your body, and make sure not to expose your torso or your hands. I’ll help you rehearse what to say afterwards, okay? Don’t worry too much—we won’t spend more than a half day in total travelling to Highcrest sect once we board a stagecoach.”

Rattling off her spiel of instructions without giving me a chance to interject, Annabelle conjured Rowan’s gear and handed it over to me, including his shortsword…

Safekeep
2 Quanta
Spell — Enchantment
Burst Speed

Exile target artifact until this enchantment leaves the battlefield. Persistent. Dispellable.

…Or maybe I should say my shortsword, since I was Rowan now?

***

Annabelle’s smile was well practised. “Greetings, sir. Two tickets to Highcrest, please. We would like to leave as soon as possible.”

Silvercross proved to be a beautiful trade city bustling with people—and more interestingly, possessed a dedicated magic district that captured the bulk of the trade in the city. I desperately wanted to check the place out and pick up some colourless 1-Quanta spells for Annabelle to try casting myself, but she’d made it clear that we weren’t allowed to spend any of Rowan’s currency and I’d promised her I wouldn’t dawdle around anyway. Instead, we made a beeline for the caravan post, passing by countless feats of medieval architecture that in the modern day would no doubt be considered heritage site worthy, and eventually found ourselves bartering with the bald, mustached burgher that ran it.

The man harrumphed in response to Annabelle’s request. “Surely, Templars such as yourself would be in the market for good horses instead? We have a couple of steeds that have just come of age recently—strong and sturdy, fit for long travel and personal use. Or if you’re more interested in warhorses—”

“No, sir. A stagecoach will do.”

“Hmph.”

What the fuck is your problem, I immediately wanted to say, but Annabelle glanced at me for a moment. It’s fine, her eyes seemed to tell me. Calm down. For some strange reason, that was enough to make me change my mind.

“Only one stagecoach left that’s stopping by Highcrest for today… you lot came rather late.”

Annabelle seemed confused by his statement. “I was referring more to hiring a private vehicle.”

“Didn’t I already tell you this? Don’t be silly. Holy or not, I won’t allow my fleet to be used for military purposes, even if you send a different negotiator.”

“Ahaha…”

The longer the conversation went, the more it felt like the two were operating on different wavelengths, but I didn’t want to intervene on Annabelle’s behalf. In the end, she just stayed silent, and the merchant took that as a cue to name his price.

“As usual, it’s sixty coppers per person. One silver and twenty coppers for the both of you, and of course, I’ll waive the baggage fee seeing as you’re not bringing anything extra.”

“That sounds acceptable,” Annabelle said. “But do you know if there will be others on the stagecoach as well?”

“Huh? Well, obviously,” spat the merchant. “Do they teach you jack shit in that place? It’s called common sense.” At this point the merchant had lost all patience with Annabelle for no good reason, and myself with him for a very apparent one. I was ready to fly across the desk and strangle him, all Homer Simpson-like, but before I could Annabelle quickly defused the situation.

“Umm… Let me consult with my Elder.”

“Tch. Of course, waste my time some more, wouldn’t you?”

“Listen here you balding piece of—”

I suddenly found Annabelle’s grubby hands around my mouth, and before I knew it I was being pulled out to the front of the counting house.

“What did you do that for?!”

“Pri… Elder Rowan, focus. We can’t afford to make a scene here…”

“Why is he being so rude to you?”

“I’m not sure,” Annabelle admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ll never see him again. What I want to know is, do you think it’ll be okay if there are others in the cabin?”

I tried to put my annoyance aside for a moment. Annabelle was unusually locked in, and maybe his wife left him for a Templar. I suppose I could empathise if that were the case. “They probably won’t talk to me, right?”

“Hopefully not, but you can never be sure. Our teachings call for us to be kind to the common folk, so we definitely can’t just ignore them... In any case, if they do, just be courteous and keep the conversation light.”

“I could just talk to you the whole trip. They wouldn’t be able to butt in in that case.”

“...Um, sure, if the situation permits,” she said, quickly averting her gaze from me. “Anyway, if you’re fine with it, I’ll go buy the tickets. Stay outside.”

Annabelle went back into the counting house of the caravan post suspiciously quickly. Meanwhile, I looked around at the stables that were adjacent to the office. There was a particularly magnificent black horse standing apart from the others in its own individual section, and a piece of parchment pinned to a wooden pillar that I could somehow read. This is very obviously not Japanese or English, I thought to myself, but miraculously the words came flowing into my head like I was a flyer from the real world.

Here is Blackmare.

Breed — Purebred Calicean Royal Charger.
Age — 10 months.
Price — 5 gold crowns, or your best offer.

Speak to Edmund.

As I stared at the page, however, the parchment suddenly morphed… into a grey rectangle.

Blackmare (Common Calicean Horse)
1 Quanta
Creature — Horse
1/2

Fleetfoot. Transport.

“Fleetfoot” was simply a term in Quanta TCG that represented a creature that didn’t tap itself after its attack step. It usually represented creatures like swift archers, mounted horsemen or ninjas—mobile characters, basically. 1/2 just meant that the creature had one attack and two life points. “Transport” meant the card could be merged with another creature under certain conditions, portraying mostly rideable things like horses or vehicles.

That information wasn’t all too relevant, honestly—my thoughts were mainly preoccupied by something else. Why would you buy ONE horse for 10000 rides worth of tickets? This must have been an insanely jacked horse. Then again, this was like arguing that buying a car wasn’t worth it because ride-sharing apps existed, so maybe the transport system in the world just sucked, or some people just wanted horse Ferraris.

As if reading my mind, Annabelle’s pink hair abruptly popped into view. “...You can read?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She glanced at the parchment herself, then asked a question. “How much is the horse?”

“5 gold crowns. Do I look like a dumbass to you?”

“That’s…” Annabelle’s expression was genuinely flabbergasted. “…actually correct. That’s odd. I thought it was just spells…”

Before I could get mad, she quickly changed the subject. “Nevermind that. I got the tickets, anyhow.”

She grinned while showing off two pieces of parchment paper. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t about to let the topic of horses die out yet. “Say, Annabelle—are a Calicean Royal Charger and Common Calicean Horse the same thing?”

“...Um, no. One’s a warhorse bred for competition, and generally very expensive because of their brave temperament and natural resistance to magic. It’s a very specific, luxurious breed of horse. The other’s basically just a catch-all name for any type of horse you’ll find here.” Then she tacked on, “N-not that I would know! I w-wasn’t raised on a farm or anything.”

“...”