Fel looked around as he was led further inside the farmhouse. The parlor area was a small, dim room lit by a series of open-shuttered windows along the outside wall. Its interior was sparsely decorated. Charles -the farmer leading him- passed by a set of four chairs, ducking quickly to peek under the coffee table that sat between them.

The man turned around and motioned for Fel to sit, his feet continuing to walk him towards an archway on the room's far side. There were three doorways to the room: one from the outside, another to a dark hallway, and the third into what appeared to be a kitchen- where Charles was heading.

"You want some water? Hot out there."

Fel drew his eyes together, his face twisting in vague confusion. He rubbed at his mouth as he sat down in one of the chairs.

"Yes. Yes, I would... ah- thank you."

He was thirsty, but not to the extent that a person would expect after having gone without water for... well, at least a full day. He was sure that he'd considered it briefly while walking in the fields, but sitting here and having it offered to him, the thought stuck. Why wasn't he thirsty?

Was it a result of his waking up here?

Fel hunched over in his seat, chin resting on his hand as he rolled the matter over in his mind.

He was hungry, and he felt like he needed a drink now, but neither was to the degree he would've expected. Both feelings were far more akin to having skipped a morning breakfast than they were to not having eaten or drank for the last day or so.

Were his thirst and appetite replenished, or perhaps merely suppressed when he'd been transported? Was either one even a better option? How would any explanation for such a phenomenon even function?

He straightened, one arm crossed over his stomach, the other's forefinger and thumb massaging the bridge between his closed eyes.

Thud

Fel's hand snapped down to his chest, his body slamming back into the chair.

Charles just raised an eyebrow, his hand still on the mug that he'd set down in front of Fel.

"Jumpy."

He moved to a seat across the table, placing his own mug between them.

With a muffled plop, the man fell backward into the cushioned chair. He shuffled against it for a moment before settling, then drew his half-lidded gaze towards Fel.

"So, you said you were lost?"

Fel nodded, his heart pounding. He took a calming sip from his mug.

"Yes, I am."

...

Fel looked up.

They stared at each other.

"Oh! You mean-" Fel's brain stumbled into gear. "I woke up here, in your field. No idea how I arrived." He waved his arms around in the direction he'd walked from, pushing himself up in his chair.

The seating's a little on the short side...

Charles gave him a curious look. "So you just need directions back to town?" He scratched his chin. "It's not a far walk. Travel south until you reach the messenger's road, then east towards the mountains. If you left at sunrise, you could hit Kelton within the day." The man shrugged and downed his water.

Fel shook his head and coughed. The answer was useful to some degree, but ultimately not what he meant. "No- rather, could you tell me where am I in the more general sense?" He paused. "Am I still within, or perhaps nearby Leudran?"

It was Charles' turn to shake his head. "Eh, I don't know that village." He tilted his mug and peered into it speculatively. "Isabelle might. Feel free to ask her when she finishes up out there." The man lifted a thumb towards the back of the house.

Fel winced.

That's a bad sign.

He tried again, a more direct approach, as Charles' arm snaked beneath the coffee table.

"What kingdom is this?"

Thump

Charles drew back, wincing and shaking his wrist. He shot Fel a bemused frown.

"What do you mean, 'what kingdom is this?' " The man flexed his hand and pointed downwards. "We're an island continent with a single ruling crown- don't have a lot of options to choose from."

He snorted, digging his arm back under the table.

Fel didn't know what to think about that. He knew of an island continent, but that was... far. Across an ocean far, assuming he was thinking of the right one. Did that mean...? But no, rituals -even portal rituals- simply didn't have that amount of distance to them; the power requirement was unfeasible. A different island continent then?

They fell into an awkward silence, Fel attempting to parse through what the man had said, and Charles seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation. Glass and metal clinked as Fel thought, the chair across from him expressing strain through a series of creaks and groans. The table's surface shivered lightly in front of his knees.

Fel looked upwards at the sound of liquid splattering against the inside of a cup. Slowly, his questioning gaze drifted from the filling mug across the table, to Charles' eyes. The man appeared to take his expression as one of continued geopolitical confusion because he gave a heavy sigh and put down the metal flask he was holding.

"Calcroft. You're in Calcroft."

Fel stuffed his head into his hands and groaned.

"Damn."

That was the one. He was, from the sound of things, currently standing within a nation half the world away from his home. Screwed, with no explanation.

For a messenger, an adventurer, or even maybe a portal-mage, the distance might be acceptable- or at least achievable in separated parts. For a man such as Fel however? The ocean to travel, cursed lands to bypass, monsters to fight or flee from, and the sheer distance required to move through, all stacked up into an insurmountable hurdle. He doubted he'd survive his first free-forming mana storm.

Fel gestured towards the metal flask. "Is that... any good?"

Charles perked up from his mug, dimly lit eyes brightening in appreciation. He gave Fel a wide, craggy smile. "Terrible. Complete shit."

Fel nodded.

"I see."

The farmer poured him a drink.

Fel snorted some of the pungent liquid back into his cup. He pointed at Charles.

"No, she did not say that to the head of the house!"

The two chatted as they drank, waiting for Charles' pseudo-mysterious 'boss' to make her reappearance. Fel wasn't sure how long it generally took to clean off such a large variety of gore, but it certainly didn't seem to be quick.

He shuddered and quickly took another gulp from his mug.

Charles had livened up a bit somewhere between his second and third drink, his conversation becoming a bit more involved as time went on. They'd talked long enough to trade belated introductions; answer a few of Fel's questions about the immediate area; and re-confirm that, yes, this really was the island continent Calcroft.

Also no, Calcroft hadn't managed to move half an ocean away and become subsumed by his home kingdom of Leudran.

It'd been worth a shot.

"She absolutely did! Banned now of course; don't let their vendors serve us. Won't buy my sorghum anymore either!"

Charles gave a hoarse laugh, smacking at the top of his knee.

"Not that we need them, mind you! Got plenty of other buyers for the crop, and Isabelle doesn't do work with cheats, noble or not.

He took another swig from the flask.

Fel gave a grin and scratched at the back of his neck, using the interruption to ask a question that'd been on his mind since the start of the man's story. "You keep mentioning your boss's job, but I don't think I quite understand what she does. What's a farm owner doing, making negotiations with one of your kingdom's noble houses?"

Charles shook his head and placed down the flask. "No, no- wasn't for the farm. They wanted to hire her for a job, see, one of their-"

The man stopped. His eyes squinting, he rotated in his chair, turning to face down an open hallway. "Ah! I think that might be her now."

He waited.

"Or maybe not?"

Shrugging, he turned back to Fel. "Hard to tell sometimes."

They were silent for a moment. Charles' eyes glazed as he attempted to think back to what he'd been saying. "So, I think I was-"

A mop of dark brown hair popped over Fel's left shoulder, a finger poking at his arm.

"Are you a mage?"

Fel stiffened, freezing in his chair at a young woman's sudden appearance beside him. He turned woodenly, a false smile plastered across his face.

"Hello, miss...?"

The woman blinked.

"Isabelle."

Her eyes expanded. "Oh! I'm- You- " She flushed red for the second time that day, and jumped to stand at the chair's side. Schooling her expression together, she gave him a wide and energetic smile, extending a hand for him to shake.

"My name is Isabelle, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

Slowly, Fel reciprocated the gesture, though without quite as much... enthusiasm.

"Fel. My name's Fel."

They shook.

"You're Charles' boss?"

Isabelle's head whipped around towards Charles at Fel's words. "No! And don't let that blockhead tell you otherwise! He's as much in charge of this farm as I am- equal shares!" She glared at the older man and huffed.

Not giving either of them a chance to interrupt, she flopped into one of the chairs beside them and looked pointedly at Fel. "But back to my first question- are you? A mage?" She vibrated in her seat, feet tapping, braided hair swinging from one shoulder to the other to the other.

Fel tipped his head to the side. "A mage of sorts, though speaking of-"

She jumped to her feet. "Yeeessssss!" A hand raised into the air, the young woman charged out of the room and into a deeper corner of the house. An unlit candle wobbled next to the doorway that she passed through.

Charles blinked at him. "You're a mage?"

Fel shot him a bewildered look to match the one he'd given Isabelle's fleeing form.

"It's hardly that unusual!"

The farmer waved him off, bursting into a half-coughing laugh. "ah- don't worry. Just a surprise is all." He gave a shaky nod to where Isabelle had disappeared. "Would've given you a heads up."

A series of 'thud's moving closer down the hall, and Isabelle burst back into the room, a black-stained leather glove grasped in her hand. She shoved it into Fel's chest, bouncing excitedly.

"Can you recharge this?"

Fel fumbled with the glove. "I- well- yes, ah, probably?" He gave her a confused smile.

Recharging magic items was a cornerstone skill of any trained magic-user. Though why she would be asking him -a random mage backed only by self-proclamation- to recharge what was undoubtedly a valuable tool, he had no idea. Magic items weren't rare exactly, but neither were they so common that a person would be willing to risk their breakage, with most people only able to afford one or two.

He looked back up at her. "Miss Isabelle, I'm not sure it's such a wise decision to-"

"I just want to know if you can! We can talk about payment if you're able, but just check first!" She interrupted him, waving away his voiced concerns with flailing hands.

Fel gave a slow nod and looked down at the glove. Conscious of Isabelle's wide-eyed stare, his finger traced down the etchings that wrapped around the item's exterior.

He peeked a look at the hovering young woman again. She was leaning forwards, uncomfortably close.

Fel dragged his attention back down to the glove. Finding nothing on the backside, he turned it over, searching for its mana input.

Surely she could've gotten this charged back in town? Why in the gods' names would you ask a veritable stranger to- oh... Oh!

He looked up, a frown darkening his face.

"Miss Isabelle. I will not be made a party to whatever plans you have made with this... thing."

She looked surprised for a moment, then shook her head, flipping him a cheeky smile.

"Ah well, was worth a shot."

The woman snatched the glove from his hand and raced back down the hallway. "Be right back!" Diving into a side room, Fel could hear the loud scraping of wood against wood.

Fel crossed his arms, upset and not a little disturbed. Mana disruptors. Disgusting objects. He was glad she'd had such a... calm... reaction to his flat denial, but her request had been a practical slap to the face. He looked to Charles, but the man just stared at him, sleepy-eyed. It was difficult to tell, but the farmer seemed equally surprised by Isabelle's request.

A minute later, Isabelle ran back into the parlor, a new glove stretched out in front of her.

"Okay! This one! I've got a request for next time Charles and I go to town, and there's no way I'm stopping in a shop long enough for someone to pass on a pickup warning!" She wrinkled her nose, clearly displeased with the thought.

Fel didn't take the glove. Instead, he pushed down his glasses, choosing to review the engraving from a distance.

It was not a mana disruptor, but instead a dispelling-glove. Far more reasonable, yet still unnerving that she would have one.

Still seated in his chair, he looked up at her and pulled the spectacles back to the top of his head. Fel rubbed at his eyes. The humor from his conversation with Charles was no longer present.

"Miss Isabelle, while you have my full and sincere thanks for allowing me into your home, my goodwill does not hold sway over my morals. I'm not comfortable with the thought of enabling the efforts of someone in your... line of work. "

His frown deepened, transforming into a scowl.

"More so when you seem to be of the mind to target mages specifically."

He expected an outburst, a dropping of the obvious facade, and maybe a demand that he remove himself from the two's home. What he did not expect was for her to crumple. A moment's pause as his response registered, and Isabelle drooped like wet paper, the excitement draining from her body.

Isabelle looked at him and -making her way to a chair- sat. She folded her arms in front of her, a hurt frown crossing over her face.

"What do you mean, 'my line of work'? And why would I go around targeting people?"

She appeared genuinely upset by his proclamation, a sharp change in attitude that left Fel reeling.

He blurted out his immediate thoughts, doubling down on the previous statement.

"I, well- you've displayed your movement Skills twice now, and just showed me two different mage hunting tools. How would I not have picked up on this? Mysterious jobs, warnings, and classical tools of the trade- your occupation is obvious."

Isabelle threw up her hands, glaring at him. "They're protective items! Self-defense! And rogue style Skills are completely normal; they don't mean I go around attacking people!

Fel paused.

"Well, no, of course not. But Charles here has already informed me of your work for the noble houses." A small lie, but one he assumed to be true, given the man's story of her insulting one of the smaller ones. "And I don't believe for a second that a simple farmer would have reason to make deals with such people."

Isabelle scoffed at him, an indignant huff.

"Of course not, I'm not a farmer- that's Charles' job. But I'm not some hired rogue either! I'm a messenger; people contract me to deliver the stuff they aren't willing to risk transporting themselves." She pointed a finger at his nose, brow furrowing as she leaned out of her seat. "And that requires that I take precautions -like getting my magic-items charged- before each trip! It's a respectable job."

"Alright..." Fel gave a slow, hesitant nod, waving a hand in front of himself. It was a reasonable excuse, but something still felt off. "Let's, uh, assume I believe you. You do deliveries to your clients. So then, what, you're part of the messenger's guild?

Isabelle nodded silently.

Head shaking, he continued. "Then if all you're doing is delivering packages for the guild, surely you shouldn't need a dispelling glove, much less something as dangerous as a... mana-disruptor?" Fel grimaced distastefully.

The look he received in reply informed him, in no uncertain terms, that he was an idiot.

"I deliver high-value packages. Minor artifacts, political information, most noble deliveries, and anything else of high enough worth. To be frank, I carry exactly the kind of things people would like to keep from arriving or steal, messenger guild's protection or not."

She stared at him, an annoyed expression creeping more prominently onto her face. "While I am perfectly capable of avoiding a group of bandits or opportunistic thieves, rogue mages and mercenaries can require a bit more... force."

"Yes- but I fail to see why you would-"

She rolled her eyes, hands tapping forcefully in front of her. "Stop. Shut up."

"Look- I keep information contacts, a focused set of Skills, spell scrolls, and a variety of both defensive and offensive magic items. I promise you, Mister Fel, you need them all if you're going to deliver what I do. When people send the professionals after you, you use whatever advantages you can get."

Fel wavered. That was true, but there was still...

He raised a finger.

He put it down.

Fel sighed, the spark that fueled his argument flickering out.

Those were all... very good points. And honestly? They made a lot more sense than the 'she's a secret assassin who invites random people into her home' route of thinking. He had not, he was realizing, particularly thought that through.

And besides even that- he'd been hashing this argument in her home, as a guest. Yet still, she remained relatively reserved, despite his rather offensive claims.

At the least, I can afford her some common courtesy. Some benefit of the doubt.

Fel pushed his hair back, head bouncing lightly on the back of his chair. He grimaced to himself. Some benefit of the doubt would've been useful before he'd begun spitting allegations in his host's face.

Fel took a breath, and -fidgeting with his hands- looked Isabelle in the eyes.

"Ah- Miss Isabelle... I would, first off, like to apologize for my assumptions about your work. They were made in poor judgment and I've clearly offended you."

He paused to let his words sink in, shifting uncomfortably.

"However, I do have a proposal- no, a request- for you, if you'd still be willing to hear it."

Another pause as he waited for her response.

Isabelle gave him a tight, narrow-eyed nod, and he continued.

"Charles here," he pointed towards the man's still silent form, "mentioned that it's about a day's travel to the nearest town. You said that you were going in to pick up a delivery request soon? I'd like to reside here -in your home- until then, at which point I'd travel with you into town."

He held up a hand in an effort to forestall any protest from occurring before he could finish.

"In return, I'd like to offer my services and assistance for the duration of my stay. Though I would require a mana potion, should you need magic work more considerable than that dispelling-glove's recharging."

He tapped his fingers against the armrests of his chair. The next part was where he expected the most pushback.

"I must warn you, however, that I'm not willing to work on your mana-disruptor. Personal defense or not, I don't approve of its use. Far too easy to cripple a mage who doesn't deserve it." He shot the young woman a displeased glare, then shook himself.

It was asking a fair amount, and he knew he hadn't been as diplomatic about the situation as he really ought to have been, but he was certain that given a few calculated concessions-

"Deal!"

Fel reared back. She just agreed- to all of it? There hadn't been a negotiation of the services he'd be providing, though. She hadn't even asked what he could do!

Fel looked at her, his face blank.

Isabelle's excitement, the full-blown chaotic energy first displayed, was snapped back into place. She grinned toothily at Fel, fist-pumping in the air, and tossed the glove towards his head.

"That all sounds great! Hold on just a moment, I'll grab you a lodging contract!"

She spun around the back of her chair and ran from the room for the third time, her footsteps thundering down the dark corridor.

Fel turned towards the man who'd been watching the scene, without comment, for the entirety of its enactment. He rubbed at his temples, left hand dragging the leather dispelling-glove from his forehead.

Charles stared back at him, the man's mug raised halfway to his lips, his eyes opened wide for the first time.

Exhaling slowly, Fel closed his own.

What the hell just happened?