That was one heck of a choice. To remain a “guest” here in the camp, or to brave the wilderness in pursuit of answers. But how would that even work? “How can this Oracle help me?”

“Among the Oracle’s abilities is the [Truthsense] skill,” said Chief Borath. “It is a unique skill that can determine the truth of any situation, even if none of those involved are aware of it themselves. With it, she can both confirm your intentions and, perhaps, how you arrived in our world.”

“And where can I find this Oracle?” I asked, worried this would be an impossible task.

“She departed yesterday morning for the mountain at the center of the island,” the chief explained. “Follow her trail, if you are able, and ascend to the mountain’s summit. If you are determined enough, you will find her.”

“She left alone?” I’d never traveled to the countryside before, but if a single woman could safely traverse the island, surely I could as well. “So the island is safe, then?”

“For her, yes,” said the chief. “The Oracle’s powers are great. The beasts and monsters inhabiting the archipelago are no challenge in comparison. But they may be for you, depending on your combat experience.”

Oh no, this was not good. This was not good at all. I felt my stomach drop at the realization that this would be a lot more than just a hike to the mountain. “I’d never been in a fight before yesterday, and I would’ve died to the glowbites if Kiria hadn’t rescued me in time.”

“A glowbite swarm is difficult even for experienced fighters,” The chief said. “They attack in groups and are well coordinated for animals, not to mention the terrain advantage they enjoy. And from what I heard, you fared rather well against the megalodon, a true monster.”

“I only managed to scare it away though,” I said, hoping he wasn’t overestimating my abilities.

“Frightening away predators often is the easiest way to deal with them,” Chief Borath said. “Additionally this side of the island is relatively clear of aggressors. Our foragers travel into the outskirts of the jungle on a daily basis, and hunters work to keep the surrounding areas clear. Caution would be required, but it would not be impossible for you to reach the summit.”

“What about a weapon or something?” I asked. “Could I get a sword or a spear?”

“And do you have the skills with which to use them?” the chief responded.

“No,” I said. “My only combat skill is [Throw].”

“Then a sword or spear would be of no use to you,” the chief said. “It would be impossible for you to learn either weapon with any degree of proficiency in the course of a day, or even a week or a month. Your efforts would be better served improving your class skills instead of trying to acquire new ones.”

That was unfortunate, though understandable. For a moment I had imagined myself with an epic sword heroically fighting off monsters with ease. But that would require time for training. Time I didn’t have if I wanted to find this Oracle.

“You do not have to leave,” the chief reminded me. “If you are uncertain, you may remain under supervision here until the Oracle returns.”

“Do you know when that would be?” I asked.

“Not for a week or two at least,” the chief replied. “Maybe longer. She left to investigate a mana anomaly that emerged during the manastorm. Depending on the results of her findings, she could continue her investigation at a different location.”

“Then she won’t be at the mountain for very long, then?” I asked.

The chief shook his head. “No. A few days, at least, as she has another task there. But no longer.”

I considered my choice again. The easiest option was to remain a prisoner here. But even though that was the safe, and probably even smart thing to do, something within my balked at that. Was it the lack of freedom that bothered me? Did some part of me yearn to go on some adventure and explore this new world? Or was I just impatient and wanted answers as soon as possible?

“I choose to seek the Oracle,” I spoke, my words surprising me.

“Are you certain?” Chief Borath’s eyes held my attention. They were watchful and observant; fierce and strong. And yet, they were also soft, reflecting a kindness that reassured me.

“I am.”

The chief studied me for a moment, then stood and said, “Very well. We do not have much, but I shall grant you some basic equipment and provisions. Come."

I nodded and followed him out of the yurt. The settlement was mostly empty. I wondered if the reason was that they were hiding or if they were all busy elsewhere. A male beastkin carrying a basket of fruits walked past us toward the entrance, casting a hesitant glance my way. A group of children playing across the camp center were ushered inside one of the larger yurts by a tall woman with pointed ears. They seemed afraid of me. But why?

The chief ushered me forward, leaving me no time to ponder this line of thought. We approached a smaller yurt set next a rectangular field cordoned off by a rope fence. “Mister Gerik!” the chief called out. “Are you in? I have need of your services.”

“Come in, come in!” a friendly voice welcomed us. The chief opened the door, and we stepped through into a dark room. Unlike the chief’s yurt, whose fabric was thin enough to allow plenty of light in to see by, this yurt was constructed with darker, thicker cloth. A thin ray of sunlight shone from a small gap in the top of the tent, faintly illuminating the room. The atmosphere inside felt akin to that of a movie theater, though instead of chairs there were stacks of materials. There were bundles of fabrics, partially woven baskets, and spools of rope and string. In one segment, I spotted a collection of long grasses and vines set next to a pile of what seemed like cotton or wool.

“Oho, what a curious guest we have,” greeted the man. His ashen, light-grey skin practically glowed in the darkness. His ears were pointed as well, though differently than the fair-skinned woman I’d noticed outside. “Welcome, welcome. My name is Gerik, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The sheer hospitality exuded by this man took me aback. He was not particularly tall, nor was he particularly short. But the presence he had exuded an unquestionable charisma. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mister Gerik.”

“Ah-ah,” Mister Gerik held up his index finger. “Just plain, simple Gerik.”

“It’s nice to meet you… Gerik,” I corrected myself. “My name is Micah.”

“Splendid,” Gerik smiled and clapped his hands together. “Now, what can I do for you, my unusual guest? I must say, it is rare that I receive a new customer. Never, actually, since coming here.”

The chief stepped forward. “Micah needs a new set of clothes, a satchel, and a waterskin. How quickly can you have them ready?”

“Certainly,” Gerik said with a smile. “I do have a small selection of ready-made articles, but I would need a few days to sew a custom-fit set. It would seem you have lost your footwear as well. I assume you would like a new pair of sandals as well?”

“Do you have any shoes?” I blurted without thinking. Surely shoes existed here, right?

“Sadly, I am rather lacking in quality material these days,” Gerik lamented. “Good leather is hard to come by, so I’ve got somewhat of a lengthy backlog of orders for leather products. My sandals, while admittedly less durable, will still match any leather shoes in terms of comfort, though! The tall grass that grows abundantly in this area — I’m sure you’ve seen it — makes for an excellent base. It is soft and flexible while remaining firm and solid. And best of all, getting wet won’t ruin them! Not to mention they’re easy to make.”

I sighed in relief. They may not be the shoes I’m used to, but these sandals didn’t sound that bad. And if the others were using them, surely they couldn’t be too bad. And it was better than climbing a mountain barefoot. “Those sound great, thank you.”

“Excellent,” Gerik nodded in satisfaction. “All that remains is deciding what you have to trade.”

“Trade?” I repeated, stalling for time while I struggled to think if I had anything of value.

“But of course,” Gerik said. “I’m a [Tailor], not a Philanthropist. To give away my work would be to diminish it and thereby devalue myself. Enterprise would revoke her blessing if I did such a thing.”

Enterprise? Blessing? Before I could ask what he meant, Chief Borath said, “I shall compensate you for your services, Mister Gerik.”

“Just Gerik,” he corrected with a smile. “And I’m afraid I shall have to decline your most generous offer, Chief. After all, Micah here is in possession of something I most dearly desire.”

“I-I am?” Gerik’s stare was oddly intense, though the welcoming smile on his face never wavered.

“But of course!” Gerik replied. “In my years of hemming pants, never have I come across ones like yours. As soon as you walked through my door saw they were made using very different materials and techniques.”

I blinked. “You can tell all that just from looking?”

“A true craftsman such as myself possesses a keen eye for all things related to their trade,” Gerik said. “The design and quality differ from works contracted by the nobility, at least so far as the Kingdom and Republic go. As such, I simply cannot pass up the opportunity to study such a rare product.”

“I see,” I replied, getting an idea. I may not be a businessman like him, but I had plenty of experience in haggling prices down at the local market. Time to play. “I am somewhat hesitant to part with these trousers of mine. Despite their obvious state of disrepair, they are quite comfortable and, as you have stated, quite rare. Not to mention that, for the moment, they are my only possession.”

Gerik’s smile widened. “I will offer you a fair deal in exchange, of course! In exchange for the pants, you will receive a full set of replacement clothing plus the satchel and waterskin. You’ll be perfectly ready for your new life on the island.”

I felt a bit excited at the familiar demeanor. This was just like when I’d gone shopping at the market. I decided to have a bit of fun as a brief diversion. Maintaining my smile, I replied, “I’m afraid that won’t do. As you mentioned, these pants are technologically unique to those I have seen here. I’m not knowledgeable enough about threading to speak to the fabric, but I do believe this zipper is a unique feature, wouldn’t you say?” I showed the use of the metal zipper, suppressing my embarrassment of undoing the fly of my pants in the presence of two men.

Despite my misgivings, the demonstration seemed to have worked. Both Chief Borath and Gerik looked stunned, though the grey man’s expression quickly turned to unabashed excitement. “Extraordinary! I have never seen anything like it, even beyond the realm of clothing! You would fetch a fortune with this on the mainland!”

I smiled, inwardly exhaling in relief. I had guessed correctly; zippers hadn’t been invented yet here. “Instead of a fortune, I would be content with five sets of clothing, two pairs of sandals, two waterskins, and a large bag to carry it all in.”

“Very shrewd of you, friend, but that would immediately deplete the surplus you see around us,” Gerik said. “As much as I would love to compensate you, present circumstances rather limit my capabilities. I can give you two sets of clothing, the sandals, waterskin, and a medium sized bag.”

“Hm…” I considered the counterproposal. I couldn’t push too hard, lest I walk away with nothing, but this was the only advantage I had. I needed everything I could get my hands on if I was going to brave this unknown, hazardous island. I looked around to see if there was anything else I could possibly ask for in the yurt.

Among the strands of rope, there were some shorter pieces hanging in notches cut into the wood frame. Unlike the lengthier segments clearly intended to be used for fencing or netting, these pieces were only a few feet long and featured a small bowl in the middle. The bowl was made from the same fibrous material as the thin rope and just large enough to fit a golf ball.

“What are those?” I asked, pointing to the odd creations.

Gerik looked over and smiled. “Ah, I see my new creations have interested you.” He walked over to pick up the largest one and held either end, allowing the bowl segment to drop. “This is a sling, an ancient weapon used before the invention of bows. You place a rounded stone in this pouch, hold both ends, and give it a good spin. When you want to fling the stone, you release one end and the stone goes flying.”

“Is it strong?” I asked.

“The sling’s strength depends largely on the size and density of the stone and the speed at which you can release it,” Gerik answered. “It lacks the piercing power of an arrow, but even a boar can be felled in a single shot by a skilled hand.”

“The problem is aiming the thing,” Chief Borath interjected. “It’s relatively easy to train people to aim a bow and arrow — they usually just lack arm strength. The sling can be used even by children, but the timing is notoriously difficult to achieve any degree of accuracy.”

“Would the [Throw] skill help with this, by chance?” I wondered. I wouldn’t exactly be throwing the sling, but I would be controlling the sling that threw the stone. Throw by proxy? Did that count?

The chief pondered this for a moment. “It may, if leveled up enough. Though even at level 1, a skill is a summary of all related accumulated knowledge and experience. That would give you an intuitive feel on how to aim properly, though you would still need to practice.”

I nodded, hope swelling within me. I was hopeless in a fight and didn’t have a combat class, but maybe with this one skill and weapon, I could survive the wilderness. “Two full sets of clothing — shirt, pants, and underclothes — a pair of sandals, a waterskin, one full-sized satchel, the sling, and a small pouch to carry stones in.”

“Deal,” Gerik said and shook my hand with a smile. “An absolute pleasure doing business with you, Micah. Here are your clothes, and I’ll prepare the rest while you change into them.”

Chief Borath, thankfully, stepped forward to discuss something quietly with Gerik, giving me the chance to change in private. I quickly swapped my pants for the brighter ones provided and removed Kiria’s coat to don one of the shirts. The clothes different than I was used to, less synthetic and a bit heavier, but they weren’t bad.

When I was complete, I folded my old pants up, mindful not to tear the few strands holding them together. Gerik then returned with a satchel containing the second change of clothes, followed by the sandals and waterskin. I moved the strap of the satchel over my head and onto my shoulder, letting it hang on my right side. The sandals fit as comfortably as promised and seemed strong enough to last awhile, though I knew I’d need new ones eventually.

Gerik also provided a twine belt for me to hang the waterskin off of that also helped keep the pants — which were slightly too large for me — from falling down. Normally, he would modify them to fit the bearer, but since I had to leave as soon as possible, this was a suitable stopgap. The smaller pouch could also be clipped onto this belt from the front, and he included several strands of string for me to make replacement loops as needed.

Finally, Gerik handed me the sling, which I hung to my left with the stone pouch. I was now ready for my journey, involuntary though it may be. “Thank you, Gerik.”

“You are most welcome,” Gerik bowed his head. “Before you leave, would you like a lesson on how to wield your sling properly? As the chief said, it can be a tricky weapon to use.”

“I would appreciate it, yes,” I said, glancing at the chief. “If that’s alright?”

The chief nodded. “That will be fine, Mister Gerik.”

“Just Gerik,” he corrected while fetching another sling from the back. “Let us step outside to the training field. I have some targets set up there already.”

Gerik led us outside to the rectangular field I had noticed earlier, where I now spotted three vertical posts standing taller than the rope fence. They were chipped and scratched, but otherwise intact as they protruded from the ground. “The others have their own means of practicing, but the kids and I use these small targets here to train our meager skills. Observe.”

With a flourish, Gerik swung the pouch of the sling in a circle and released one end, flinging the stone I hadn’t noticed him mount straight toward the middle target. It impacted the center, shattering the wooden post and sending splinters flying in every direction. “You can build speed with a single turn like I just did, or spin the stone in a circle for longer. The choice of how you accelerate the stone is up to you, but the important part is releasing the other end of the sling at the precise moment.”

He held out another stone from somewhere and I accepted, nesting it into the pouch of my sling. Recalling Gerik’s smooth motion, I attempted the replicate the move but ended up sending the stone straight down to the ground a quarter of the way to the target.

“Hold up your swinging arm in line with your sight to the target,” Gerik advised. “That will help you feel when to release the stone. If it is in front of you, it will fly down. If you release too early, it will fly up. But when the stone is at the height of its swing, its momentum will carry it forward when you free it from the sling.”

Ah, I think I remember something like this from physics. Newtonian motion. When an object is moving, its momentum will want to keep it to continue its motion in the same direction. We can change that directly by applying a force at a different angle. In this case, the sling was providing a tensile force on the stone inward toward my hand to keep it moving in the circle. But when I released one end of the sling, that force was removed and the stone could follow its momentum without restriction.

Keeping this in mind, I accelerated another stone in a forward loop, spinning it in place until I had a good impression of the stone’s position. I maintained a constant angular velocity to make it easier to predict and tried to imagine the path the stone would take. When I was ready, I waited for the stone to reach the apex of its swing and released. The stone flew forward toward the left target, just missing it low and away.

“Good improvement,” Gerik complimented. “You were only a few sems away, perhaps a seppe or two.”

Great, more units of measurement I didn’t know. But considering the distance, maybe they were close to inches and feet? I would need to figure out a way to check someday. “It’s hard to make fine adjustments in aim.”

“Indeed, that’s one of the reasons why these are not popular weapons,” Gerik admitted. “Still, I think you have potential with this. That was only your second try and you almost hit it. Here, why don’t you give it another shot?”

I took the third stone, noticing this time how it was smooth to the touch, as were the others. “Wouldn’t it be better to use a sharp rock for hunting?”

“On the contrary, rocks with sharp edges make for horrible projectiles with the sling,” Gerik said. “Only smooth stones of moderate density like these can be consistently propelled. Normal rocks are too varied and you will never be able to make precise shots with them. Stones that a too light won’t be able to swing properly. And stones that are too heavy will just drop to the ground or break the sling. If you cannot retrieve any of the stones you use, or if they become chipped, you will need to replace them with similarly sized stones equally smooth of like weight.”

“Good to know,” I nodded, mounting the stone in the sling’s cradle and preparing for my third attempt. I flung it in the same manner as before, this time managing the hit the bottom of the post just above the ground.

“Nice shot!” Gerik exclaimed. “On only your third try as well. That speed won’t hurt anything larger than a rabbit but that aim is remarkable. From your question earlier, may I take it you possess the [Throw] skill?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed. “Level 2.”

Gerik nodded. “A recent acquisition, then. Still, it will help you become more familiar with any weapons that are thrown. Not that I can think of any others than this one.”

So my [Throw] skill was even more helpful than I’d thought. Not half bad for a random general skill. “Why did I hit low? I was fairly certain I’m aimed it right at the center, like you.”

“Did you remember to account for gravity?” Gerik asked.

Oh, whoops. “No, I forgot.”

“A common mistake for novice slingers and archers,” Chief Borath commented. “If you threw the stone as fast as Mister Gerik, it would travel in a straight line unaffected by gravity. Otherwise, you need to aim a bit higher so that gravity pulls the projectile back down where you want it to.”

“I think I understand,” I said, accepting another stone from Gerik. I began swinging the stone and timing when it would reach the peak. Then, right as it climbed up the fourth time, I released it a moment before the apex. The stone glided up slightly, immediately descending as it flew forward. Less than a second after I shot the stone, it impacted the center of the post, knocking a few chips of wood off the surface before dropping onto the field. “Yes!”

“Good job,” Gerik smiled. That very moment, I felt another tinge in the back of my mind. I focused on it and saw another blue box notification.

Skill Advanced: Throw Lv. 2 → Lv. 3

Throw Level 3 — Propel an object by hand with increased accuracy and power proportional to 3 times the user’s Dexterity and Strength attributes, respectively.

“Thank you for the lesson, Gerik.” I bowed to my teacher. “I couldn’t have learned this without you. Now I’m confident that I can defend myself in the wilderness.”

“I’m always happy to provide a little extra service to my favorite customers,” Gerik said. “And should you, in the course of your travels, down any large creatures with your new sling, I would gladly craft some leather goods for you from the hide in exchange for the leftovers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a wry smile. If I encountered any large creatures I was running away. But, if somehow the opportunity presented itself, I would be sure to help him out. Gerik had already proved to be a skilled and helpful man and I owed him that much, at least.

“Thank you for your time, Mister Gerik,” said Chief Borath.

“Just Gerik, please, Chief,” Gerik smiled. “After all, I’m just a plain, simple tailor.”

With that, the chief escorted me to another entrance at the opposite side of the settlement than the first. The camp encompassed a small area, so it didn’t take long at all to get there. There was a stark absence of others outside this time, perhaps wary of the stranger in their midst. This entrance, another pair of posts marking a break in the rope border, was similarly unguarded.

Unlike the first, which led back to the beach, this one led further into the island, and above the line of trees, I could just make out the peak of the mountain. It didn’t seem that far away until I considered the fact that I actually had to walk there. It had to be tens of miles away, and would take me several days unless I got lucky and caught up with this Oracle on the way. And if she was as proficient as I wasn’t, that wouldn’t be happening.

“Stay safe, Micah,” Chief Borath said. “The Crescent Moon Archipelago is not the most hospitable location, and powerful animals and monster alike roam the land and sea. Our fighters have secured the area around the camp and a large portion of the jungle this side of mountain, but the further in you go, the more hostile the conditions become. If you feel overwhelmed, feel free to return to the camp and await the Oracle here with us.”

“Thank you, Chief.”

“Fear not,” the chief said. “If your intentions are pure, then the gods will guide your fate.”

“The gods, huh?” I wasn’t really used to religion. Not against it, but not understanding it either back home. Here, though, it seemed like this world’s gods still played an active role in the lives of their people. I did have two blessings, after all. Maybe Nature and Voyager were the names of two gods here? And Gerik was blessed by Enterprise — maybe a god of business? “I appreciate your helping in getting this new equipment. Would you see to it that Kiria’s coat gets back to her?”

“I will,” Chief Borath nodded. “Good luck, Micah.”

“I’ll see you later,” I bade farewell, and walked past the perimeter of the settlement. The only way to begin was by beginning.

And thus, my adventure began.

“What a peculiar boy,” Gerik said aloud to no one in particular. Seldom was he surprised by anything, for he had long since been numbed to the capricious whims of fate. But this. This was unexpected.

This human boy had met a drow for likely the first time in his life and not flinched. Even some of the other refugees balked at the sight of him. Gerik had been granted “special” permission to live in a private yurt instead of having to share with five or six others like everyone else. The official reason was that, as the one who created all the fabric used in the yurts’ creation, this luxury was bestowed upon him as a reward.

It was a lie. The others were still afraid of him, or of their preconceptions of what a drow was. Most were false, of course, stories spread by friends and foes alike that all contributed to the grand reputation of darkness and evil. But living in the dark did not make one inherently evil. Dwarves and halflings could live in mountains and the ground without without being accused of nasty deeds and wrongdoing. It was just that the drow had sensitive skin. They didn’t lurk in the dark to plot and scheme, but to seek shelter from the scorching sun.

Being half-human did help with enduring the light, but Gerik was still most comfortable at night. He would often volunteer for the night watch and sleep during the day. He would have been asleep this day as well had it not been for the excitement of the manastorm and the subsequent missing daughter. Borath had made quite the fuss. It was amusing to watch.

Less amusing was the chief’s task for him. It wasn’t that he disagreed — Micah’s origin was suspicious at best. Gerik had never heard of this so-called Earth, and this was a dangerous time for the settlement. The slightest misstep could bring the military might of three nations crashing down upon them.

But the boy, Micah Cedano, had seemed nothing but genuine. And in Gerik’s line of work, he unfortunately had ample opportunity to interact with a plethora of selfish, conniving sycophants with delusions of grandeur. He prided himself on his sense of which customers to serve and which to cross. Micah was undoubtedly one of the “good guys.”

Yet, his senses had been wrong before. Terribly, tragically wrong. He could not afford to make the same mistake twice. Not when the ones who stood to lose had nothing left but their lives. Lives that were not his to gamble away. And thus, Gerik began for a journey of his own, in the footsteps of another.

It was an unpleasant stereotype that all drow, even half-drow, were schemers in the dark. After all, Gerik was just a simple tailor.