The Brunch Before...

It had been a wild three months since I was summoned from World Eighty-Two—Earth—to Esseria. Having met and made a deal with the eccentric lich Phyllis, I trained to become an adventurer, befriended a triop of misfits and realized they were secretly overpowered. Together, we threw a wrench into the broken magical school system, raided a recently uncovered dungeon and even slew a dragon.

Some real heroic crap!

And, even with my background as author of this world, the brief time I’d spent on continental Moal’aw had taught me something. Despite everything written about this world, there was still so much I didn’t understand.

Twenty years of my old life—Tahvin’s life—had been dedicated to writing the history of Esseria spanning 30,000 years. Even with that endless pool of knowledge about this world I now found myself in, there was no way I could have predicted that the bedsheets of the fanciest inn in Squalls Crossing were lavender scented.

It was the little details that made this awful world beautiful.

Leaping from the comfortable and wonderfully smelling bed, I landed in front of a mirror and looked myself over. I was of slightly above average size, just below six feet tall, and had a head of thick white hair at the top of that height. Currently dishevelled, I tied it back with a crimson cord and cleared the sleep from the edges of my eyes.

My ruby eyes looked over the golden-honey complexion of my sun-blasted skin as I touched a few recently acquired scars that marked my average face and youthful physique, which was now more muscular than when I first awoke to it.

I mean, sure, did I almost die several times during this last adventure?

Yes.

Did I get pantsed by a succubus, revealing myself to the triop I travel with?

I don’t want to talk about it.

But did we all get rich while doing this?

Absolutely.

And, sure, we may have left the dungeon with more companions than we started, but wasn’t that a success in the grand scheme of things?

These were all the lines I’d been feeding myself for the last few days post-adventure. Though I still sometimes wondered about my place in this world and how my all-knowing presence was impacting it.

This was even more present since I had chatted with Basil—the rebellious leader—and gotten the stern message from Petal—the ancient general. I still needed to process all of it, but I could only evade Rionriv’s questions for so long.

Gah!—no rest for the wicked and all that. I thought as I crossed over to the dresser where my locally sourced clothing rested.

With my last set of threads being a little more ‘acid-washed’ than I preferred, I had decided to purchase some clothing from Squalls Crossing. Nothing more than flowy wide-leg shorts and a ye olde’ fashion henley, the mobility and airiness were perfect for my dexterous fighting style.

Rolling the sleeves up to my elbows and freeing a button or two from the top, I enjoyed my new cultist-chic look. I found this particularly funny since I knew this town had a cult problem that really needed to be dealt with by the heroes of this world.

But that’s their problem to solve. I’ve got other business.

Finishing up, I slipped on a pair of recently purchased Phyllis Brand Sneakers that both resembled retro Ekin trainers and muffled my steps. Perfect for those sneaky missions and fitting my punch-drunk style.

With a swipe, I took up my new quarterstaff and moved downstairs for breakfast.

The dining area of our inn was quaint and quiet, making it easy to spot the triop. With each one of them a uniquely identifiable type of beauty, the table where all three sat was quite the sight to behold.

The first and most striking figure of the group was Rionriv Singlemoon, our resident super-sorceress. Her rich mocha skin tone and piercing sapphire blue eyes were only a few of her most beautiful features. The part of this elegant human that drew the most attention, aside from her perkier assets, was her red-orange hair, which now had a permanent shock of neon blue at the ends—a gift of her elemental attunement.

Sitting beside her this morning was the tallest member of the group, the lovable Aesandoral Thantossa. With short brown hair, big emerald eyes, chestnut-toned body, and an overly compassionate personality, it was hard not to fall in love with this elven archer. But looks could deceive, and her beauty had its thorns as she was at another level when it came to combat.

Finally, our secretive Sharzin Thistlewillow was our wonderful shadow chef. Currently, the groundling's hood was down, exposing her pitch-black hair and alabaster skin to the world. Suspicious silvery eyes that glimmered like diamonds in the light caught a glimpse of me as I approached, pulling her gaze. She was our skulker and could pinpoint a target’s weakest point with ease.

“Iz, finally.” Sharzin announced, beckoning me over

I waved, casually strolling over to the table.

This left me, Ishara. Age, somewhere past sixteen at this point. In actuality, Tahvin, the author of this world and from another one entirely—but I was keeping that under wraps for the time being. I was the group tank and part-time healer.

This was a nice way of saying I was the party meat shield.

“Come, sit,” Rionriv ordered, patting the vacant seat beside her. “We’re chatting.”

Bah-dump! Bah-dump! Bah-dump!

My heart immediately began to pick up pace. Rionriv was being friendly with me today. That meant only one thing.

Eeep— I thought, presenting a smile to hide my nerves.

I still haven’t answered her question from a few days ago. Looks like my time is up.

“Thanks,” I replied, sliding into the tight booth where I picked up the stein with a sniff. “What’s this? Smells sweet.”

“A meadmosa,” Aesandoral said breathlessly as she brought down her drink, content from finishing a hearty swig. “It’s so good! Apparently, they’re local only to here!”

Mmmm—meadmosa. I could go for a drink. I am of legal age after all!

“Yeah,” I said with a smile and a sip. “Squalls Crossing is the agricultural hub of Moal’aw. Land can’t get more fertile than this.”

Which wasn’t saying much—

Of the three conjoined continents, Moal’aw was in the middle of the road regarding habitability. What farmland there was could be challenging to manage, with roughly half the continent uninhabitable.

But, in comparison to the continent of Sact’fal to the north, this landscape was paradise. Habitable places were rare and fiercely protected by the people who had staked their claims long ago.

The real gem of this world was Ir’fornu to the east with its boundless agricultural land, thick forests, and rich ore veins. Of course, there was always a catch, and this time it happened to be a big one. Almost every creature there was super-sized, making travel quite dangerous and forcing most citizens, even magical ones, to remain within the confines of their cities, towns and villages.

“And how do you know that?” Rionriv, the little thorn in my side that she was, inquired as she gave me a gentle poke on the shoulder.

Damn. At least let me have more alcohol before the interrogation.

I sipped my drink and gave a nod of approval.

That’s good! Now, what to say? I guess let’s cut to the chase.