Technically, we’re between jobs (Actually, we’re homeless)

It may have been a time of peace, but paranoia still reigned as a prevailing emotion.

Something that had emerged from the North poured over the land, leaving evil in its wake, and it took the effort and sacrifice of millions to force it into retreat.

Since then, those darkened and forbidding forests would always be “contested” territory, a place of unease and fear, and the Kingdom of Forness, which was the unfortunate nearest neighbour, had been busy for the past five years trying to wall it off.

Rulio II, He Who Rebuilds, spared no expense in defending his northern border with the Extended Royal Fortress, a grand bulwark of interconnected watchtowers and forts that were threaded through by thick walls still in the process of being built outwards and further reinforced by all sorts of working crews.

These builders were accompanied by soldiers, who were recruited, commissioned, and dispatched to fulfill their duties. This mass migration of men and women would inevitably need a central location to gather and receive their orders. That place would need beds to rest in, and tables to eat at, and roofs over their heads to keep the snow away. These people would be paid, and they would want places to spend the fruits of their labour. Thus, more people would come to build more roofs, open more businesses, and attract more people in turn.

Within the blink of an eye, the Fortress Town turned from a collection of tents and sheds into a full-blown point on the map.

More men and women would always be needed, and would always come, tempted by the promise of riches, or at least work – something the war-scarred and the displaced would need to get their feet under them.

New faces were, therefore, no surprise, and with them came the presumption that they all came from the south. In a citizen’s mind, anything from the North had to be a monster that the troops would chase off with arrows and spears.

Nonetheless, the walls, though they were growing, were not finished, and on certain dark nights, even three figures, wandering in from the woods, could sidle through the gaps and eventually arrive at the alternate reality boom town.

“Oh god, it’s one of those fantasy worlds.”

“Paul, don’t be a jerk.”

The three stood in a busy street, the ground wet with slush, taking in all they could see. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to hide their features. Paul wanted nothing to do with his armor, which was now lying somewhere in the wilds to rust away. Underneath, his dark tunic, pants, and boots were indistinguishable by comparison, only further amplified by his new gaunt features that made him easier to ignore.

Trudy’s eyes were distinctive, but a shawl fashioned from scraps of cloth they had found turned her whole profile into a shrinking, simpering figure who ducked her head, and thus, was not worth looking at.

The only real standout figure was Bao, who, as Trudy kept insisting, looked like his diet consisted of whole animals and his lifestyle was dedicated to bulking out. But even then, the newly incarnated redhead and his walking (talking) stick were no odder a sight than what Paul had been groaning about.

The fantasy populace fit the image the trio had in their mind’s eye of a medieval world: men and women dressed well enough, distinctive yet pragmatic, while a patrol of soldiers marched by in formation, wearing helmets and hardened leather, steel at the ready. It could have been out of a history textbook, save that a large proportion of the people were visibly sporting extra animal features, prominently pointed canine or feline ears poking out of their heads. Trudy could see a few with shining eyes, and a few shirts that had tails poking out from under the hem.

The three walked on through the streets, unsure of where their feet would take them. Eventually, though, with no clear goal in mind, the only thing left they could do was stand under the awning of a store and people-watch. In the absence of information, merely observing was teaching them something new every minute.

“No elves or dwarves in sight,” Paul snorted, a little amused at the thought he was going through a mental checklist. “No pointy hats either. You think this place has magic?”

“We have potatoes and bread, at least,” Bao added, spying a busy shop where people were trading coins for flat breads that had been sizzling against the side of a greased pan. “Think the food here will be normal enough.”

It was Trudy, though, who was now concerned about something else. “Well, we’re finally in civilization, but now what?”

“According to the voice in our heads, we’re supposed to find power and kill all these people for some reason,” Bao flatly remarked, eyes rolling.

Paul hummed, a hand placed to his chin. “Yeah, we have to figure out what that’s all about. Still…” He shook his head, as if to dispel some sudden onset of “When you have a big project, you sometimes have to break things down to immediate issues. What’s ours? Like, off the top of your head, right now?”

“Beer.”

“Huh?”

Paul and Bao turned to direct a bewildered look at Trudy, whose fine features were starting to tighten up into an excellent and most piercing grimace.

“It’s been a lot of days. I woke up in the middle of nowhere; I got attacked by a cat-goat thing the size of a car; then we escaped and walked for god-knows-how-long through the snow, and now we’re in the middle of a city with no further idea of what to do. I’ve been dealing with this sober for too long.”

Trudy took a step forward towards them, hands raised and full of meaning and yearning equal measure. The other two stepped back.

“Between all the lessons and homework grading I had to do, the only way I could switch off was with a cold one! I’m getting one now and then sleeping for a month!” Fire seemed to dance in her eyes, and her companions beheld the mania of a woman entranced. “Paul, Bao! We’re getting beer! Or mead! Or whatever! We’re getting boozed up in medieval town! Now!”

“...Trudy, are you sure you’re not drunk right now?” Paul hesitantly asked.

“You wish I was!”

Bao considered whether it was time to break out the stick.

Just then, a new voice cut in, chipper yet worn with age. “Sounds like the three of you are at your wits’ end.”

Paul and Bao turned back to look at the interloper: an older man, whose pate was clearing out, save for the trimmed white hair around the sides of his shiny head. His beard, however, was doing well to keep the head-hair ratio balanced. He was thickly dressed and well-suited for the weather, clad from neck to toe in a worn yet trusty robe, a ruddy green in coloration with a history woven in a tapestry of stitches and frayed fabric, capped off by rugged gloves and boots.

He fixed the group with a look equal parts warm and quizzical. “Got nowhere to go?”

Paul considered their new acquaintance, face carefully masked with indifference. Slowly, he offered the best non-answer he could in the moment, along with a supposedly casual shrug. “Home’s not really an option for us anymore.”

The elder nodded in understanding. “Common enough story. Kingdom’s barely holding together as is while it’s picking up the pieces after the war,” turning, he pointed into the distance, at a collection of steeples that poked over the top of Fortress Town’s skyline. “If you want, I can take you to the local temple. The clergy’s been providing shelter for hapless folk for a while. There’ll be food and shelter, enough to let you figure out where to find work around here.”

“Hm,” was Paul’s equally non-commital answer. Looking the man up and down, he wasn’t sure whether to believe in Good Samaritans appearing here and now. Regardless of whether or not any charity existed in this new world, it was an entirely different thing to be led there by the kindness of random strangers.

He opened his mouth, about to ask what was in it for the still nameless man-

“Do they have beer!?” Trudy suddenly belted. Paul jerked, caught off guard, before he glared at his companion for cutting him off, simultaneously amazed at how she was managing to act like this while sober.

The old man blinked. “Well, no-”

“No!?”

“What the hell, dude,” Bao interjected, all quiet and restrained concern, “I think she’s starting to foam at the mouth.”

Raising his hands placatingly, the man tried to reason with this exceedingly lively individual. “Well, there are a lot of people who stay there, and it’s not like the temple prohibits things…”

He stilled as he saw Trudy stare at him straight in the eyes with the iciest and most determined stare she could manage. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth if there’s booze there.”

“I… okay, then? Shall I lead the way?”

Paul and Bao traded glances before the former sighed and gestured to their new host.

“After you, Santa Claus.”