Marcthain

Without a word, the man pressed a steaming, wonderfully fragrant meat skewer into each of their hands.

“You two look hungry. Come on, let me treat you to something,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

While Melissa immediately set upon hers with sparkling eyes, Lucius blinked at his own skewer and then up at the stranger.

The man wore battered clothes in earthy tones, a leather tunic, a cloak, sturdy boots, everything looking as though it had weathered countless days and nights of wind and rain.

“And what do we owe this generous gift to?” Lucius asked warily, still not touching his skewer, while Melissa was already gnawing off the last scraps.

The stranger offered a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry. I mean you no harm. But perhaps we could find somewhere more private to talk?”

He gestured down the street.

Lucius glanced questioningly at Melissa, but she only shrugged, as if to say, why not?

At last, Lucius nodded and took a cautious bite. The meat was so juicy, smoky, and savory that his worries momentarily melted away.

They followed him toward the inn.

“By the way… you can call me Marcthain,” he added casually as they walked.

When they reached the tavern, it was already bustling with life, all sorts of figures crowding the room. Some sat alone, brooding over their mugs of beer, others gathered in boisterous groups, arguing loudly.

Behind the counter, the rotund innkeeper struggled to keep up with the flood of orders his servers shouted at him.

One of them had reddish hair that curled gently at the ends. Her ears were unmistakably catlike, perched alert atop her head, and a long tail swayed behind her with quiet grace. She wore short trousers that ended mid-thigh, a simple white linen shirt, and a wide apron tied around her waist.

With feline agility perfectly suited to her appearance, she darted between tables, delivering food and drinks.

“Hey, Liviana!” Marcthain called as soon as she came into view.

Her furry, pointed ears twitched, and in a flash she zipped over to the bearded man who towered above her.

“Mar!” she exclaimed brightly. “So you finally changed your mind? You’ve just made me the happiest little kitten in the city!”

He interrupted her, looking slightly awkward.

“That’s… not why I’m here today.”

Her tail drooped in disappointment for a moment but perked right back up when she noticed Lucius and Melissa standing behind him.

“A man and a Selvarin halfblood? Friends of yours?” she asked curiously.

“Something like that,” he said, clearing his throat. “Is the room upstairs still vacant?”

She nodded wordlessly, emerald eyes lingering on the two newcomers, her head tilted inquisitively.

“Make sure we’re not disturbed,” Marcthain added, tossing her a coin, which she caught effortlessly. Then he motioned for Lucius and Melissa to follow him.

When they entered the guest room, he closed the door at once and simply stared at them for a moment.

Lucius swallowed nervously, while Melissa plopped down on the freshly made bed and began bouncing on it playfully.

“So…” Marcthain began slowly. “What world are you from?”

Melissa stopped bouncing at once. She and Lucius exchanged a serious glance before turning back to him.

“How do you know we’re from another world?” Lucius asked.

“I saw it,” Marcthain replied, folding his arms across his chest. “I was returning from the foothills when I saw a brilliant flash of light near the forest’s edge. When I went to investigate, I witnessed two worn-out figures leap out of a shimmering portal. You.” His gaze moved steadily between them. “Now I want to know who you are, and where you come from.”

Lucius let out a long, heavy sigh.

“You can call me Lucius, and this is Melissa. We’re actually from two different worlds.”

Their eyes met once more, and in both pairs flickered a spark of painful memory.

“I’m listening,” Marcthain said patiently.

Lucius drew in a deep breath.

“Basically… we angered a god. And if there’s one piece of advice I can give you, in any world, it’s this: Never. Anger. A god.”

And so he told him about their escape.

᯽᯽᯽

Minutes later, Lucius released a trembling breath as he finished.

“…and that’s how we escaped through the portal,” he concluded in a rough, exhausted voice.

Marcthain regarded him with one eyebrow raised, arms folded across his chest.

Melissa sat sideways on the bed, picking at a loose thread in the blanket, her ears twitching nervously.

Marcthain leaned back in his chair, thoughtful, before exhaling slowly.

“Well,” he said at last. “That’s quite the story. And I’d love to hear exactly what you did to anger your god so badly, but we don’t really have time for that.”

He crossed the room to the window and carefully parted the curtain to peer outside.

Melissa jumped off the bed and tapped her hooves impatiently against the floor.

“All right, enough beating around the bush! What do you want from us? I’m guessing it’s not dance lessons. Though I’d be pretty good at that…”

Marcthain gave a crooked smile.

“I’m guessing you two have no idea where you are, am I right?”

Lucius and Melissa both shook their heads.

“Then let me explain.”

He cleared his throat.

“You’re currently at the southernmost border of a small nation called Tiberun. Tiberun survives mainly on trade and seafaring. We’re in the village of Rivora, essentially the first stopover and trading hub for merchants bringing goods from the south to the nearest port city, Valdrath, about a day’s journey from here.”

He paused, studying Melissa.

“You’re not a Selvarin, are you? You look like a halfblood.”

“Not that I know of,” she replied with a shrug. “Though I don’t even know what that means.”

“Forgive me. That’s what we call the beastfolk in our world. You’ve already seen a few here in the village. Liviana, the waitress downstairs, for example.”

Melissa pouted.

“I’m not beastfolk, or a halfblood either! I’m a mae...”

Lucius quickly cut her off.

“Why are you asking? What are you getting at?”

“Here in the Republic of Tiberun, all races are treated as equals. If you have skill in trade or business, you’re welcome. Slavery is forbidden.”

Marcthain sighed.

“But that’s not the case everywhere. The mountain range behind us marks Tiberun’s southern border. Beyond it lies the land of Yashar, an endless plain crisscrossed by shallow rivers and scattered hills. In Yashar, Selvarin and other non-human races are viewed as inferior and sold into slavery.”

“And what does any of that have to do with us?” Lucius asked, his voice rougher than usual.

The thought of being caught between worlds again sent a shiver down his spine.

Marcthain remained by the window, a deep frown creasing his brow.

Outside, the first drops of gentle rain began to patter against the cobblestones.

“More than you’d like,” he murmured at last, casting a furtive glance at Melissa.

She planted her hands on her hips.

“Could you just say what you want?”

Marcthain turned to face them.

His voice was calm, but his eyes were hard as stone.

“I want you to help me save this country.”