“"” With pinpoint accuracy, I snapped a thin twig in half. By this point all my non-necromancy spells were pushed to their utmost. I could perfectly target 16m away with which was its current maximum range, the result of many mornings of training.

The task wasn’t all too difficult when considering there weren’t actually a great deal of spells for me to practice with; after reducing the power they used, only a fraction of those involved more skill, like targeting. While it may sound like I am glorifying the fact I had reached the peak of that stage, it made me shiver in my boots.

Spellcasters in Underworld of Armok are naturally dependent on their spells. The larger their repertoire, the more dangerous they become. Spells were so numerous and diverse, it was considered that there would always be a ‘perfect spell’ for any given situation. Given that spell, even a severely outclassed magic user could turn the tides with ease.

There were two challenges with the class: being quick to decide on the best spell, without being paralyzed by choice; and actually getting the spells. As someone who studied the lore of the game, I had a heuristic for quickly recalling magics I wanted, and that wouldn’t be a problem in the new world.

It was the diversity of my grimoire that was sorely lacking.

With a little over a dozen spells to start, as I necromancer I ‘researched’ a spell every five levels, that is acquired a free spell. The rest needed to be located in tomes and scrolls guarded throughout the world, or convince another caster to share with you. While this natural progression gave a total of 200 spells over an average character’s life, that number was actually quite small compared to what was optimal, not including the thematic and elemental variations within each general spell and possible higher level versions of a spell.

I was Level 1, unsure if I could level up and without knowledge of where to find magic tomes, or if they would even be compatible with my own magic.

Just one more thing to add to my to-do list.

As you expect, I never finish the main plotline in sandbox style games.

Dawn was barely breaking, and I waited next to the ford in the creek with Corsair(pronounced Corsair, as you are reading it; his name is not translated from Derriad to mean corsair). Though we’d seen each other on occasion before, Corsair served as the infrequently needed tanner and furrier when not helping take care of the fields.

He was a bit younger than me, but older than the body of my avatar, probably in his late teens, if not early twenties. The grimy look about him, may have added a few apparent years, and my ability to gauge age was poor anyhow.

The reason he was being sent along, other than the fact he wasn’t particularly helpful during this season, was to purchase some nails and other such things from town. The village didn’t have a blacksmith, and with the timber Ross and Troy were working on, it would be necessary to acquire a few more building supplies.

Corsair was also to show me around Glaucen, ostensibly. Though I feel Pan’s actual motive for sending him was to keep me from being swindled. I was also asked to be cautious about upsetting the Church. Magic users tended to be press-ganged into the government, which made me skeptical of how it remained stable, but that’s just what I was told.

As we waited on the bank of the creek, Corsair stayed silent, looking to the horizon. I had a feeling from the way he deliberately ignored my presence that I would be on my own. Well, actually I had a feeling that he was brooding in a manner perfect for an anti-hero, and that the presence of a mysterious wizard(me) might be the catalyst for his true adventure, but the former is like a subset of the latter. Also the latter didn’t actually come to pass, which was why I led with the former.

Though the sun shone into my eyes, I caught sight of something walking in front of the star on the horizon. A chestnut colored horse, pulling a cart. Our ride had arrived.

As the merchant got closer, he looked a bit familiar. Didn’t I see him on the road before? Well, I hadn’t spoken to him, so I didn’t have to worry about having forgotten something we once talked about, so all would be well. He too seemed to have a slight flash of recognition as his horse slowly splashed through the creek.

“Good morning to you two fellows! Can I help you?” He seemed a bit round, not quite pudgy, but he certainly did not lack food. His personality matched his appearance, soft edges, but not so much so that he would be blubbery. Since Pan had told me about him, I confirmed that this was to be our ride.

“Are you Castor? We’re heading to Glaucen, Pan said that you would give us a lift.”

“It would be no trouble at all! I’d just like you to try and keep the jugs back there from clattering around too much, if you can.”

Huh. That was surprisingly simple. I thought I would have to hand over some coins to get us on board. Castor really was good-natured. I happily climbed aboard the cart over the side, after evaluating where I could set my feet down amongst the breakables.

“Thanks for the ride. My name is Alric, and that’s Corsair.” Merchants knew lots of things, so I decided to try and start a conversation as we headed out.

“I know Corsair, I’ve been passing through his hometown for years.” Corsair did not acknowledge that we were discussing him, and instead sat with his feet hanging off the back of the cart. “Anyway, I think I saw you on the road from Glaucen. Are you a Brannish traveller by any chance?”

“A traveller, but not Brannish,” Braan was a country to the south and past a large mountain range. According to Ralph, Braan focused a good deal on magic and had numerous academies for mages. A reasonable place to claim as my origin, but I’d rather not try to challenge a merchant’s knowledge of geography. I didn’t need that stereotypical scene where I got caught making up blatant lies. “I’m from the south, but ended up a bit lost on my way. Until I get my bearings I’m helping out around the village.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a companion would you?”

Looking for a companion? Why would he ask that? He suspected I was a Brannish traveller, so maybe he ran into one. I’d said nothing of the sort to Pan or the other villagers, so I couldn’t claim that I was without being found out a liar.

“I’m not looking for anyone, I just happen to be waiting in the area.” If Castor read between the lines ‘incorrectly’ then it wouldn’t be my fault at all. Nope, no lies told here. The merchant gave me a bit of an odd look, before elaborating.

“It was a few days after I saw you near Glaucen. I ran into a man, who couldn’t speak Derriad, I thought he was Brannish, but if you are not, then I suppose he might not be as well.”

Was it someone else who spoke english, someone from my world? Although I suppose it might be that english was spoken somewhere in this huge world, there wouldn’t be harm in asking. At least, not too much. Nothing I couldn’t deal with. So I hoped.

“Did his language sound like *something along these lines*?”

“Ah! That’s it! So you do know him?” Apparently making him read in between the lines wasn’t enough to get the point across. Castor had a complete lack of guile and went on chatting “He was dressed in fine, black clothes, with a black sword. What was his name again? Oh yes, Dracule Chistopher Michaels.”

Dracule Christopher Michaels, what a mouthful. By the description, it sounded like Castor had encountered the one who ended the life of the goblin on the road. However the situation was a bit up in the air, if he had been transported, killing goblins shouldn’t have been so reflexive, as it was in the game, although it may have been a ‘guided’ action like my magic was. Or we could have entered the new world at different times, but then how did he end up in Derriad? It was possible he was just poor at learning new languages, or sent to this area by magic.

So many reasons both for and against. Either way, I didn’t actually have the time to hunt him down, but I would rather know than be ignorant. And since I already started the conversation with half-truths…

“I can’t say where I may have heard the name before, but if I were to know where to look for him, seeing him may help me remember.”

“I drew him a map to Peres. There are quite a few Brannish merchants there, so I thought he could find someone that spoke his language.”

“Then he should be able to make his journey alone then. You were quite kind to help him.” I nodded sagaciously as though I had understood everything and all was going according to plan. The honest merchant seemed to buy the act, although I didn’t really have a reason for selling.

The journey took about eight days, and unfortunately passed without any outstanding events. Instead I spent the time talking with Castor, or perhaps saying I listened to him would be a better descriptor of what went on. He talked so much, it seemed like he may have gone mad during his travels, he frequently gave asides to his horse Ruffles.

I almost felt it wasn’t crazy though, because Ruffles really did seem to nod his head and whinny at appropriate moments. Really after travelling to another world, the idea that a horse could be intelligent didn’t really call for skepticism.

The merchant and his horse were locked into their route, and had worked it for 22 years. That made it a little hard to see him as anything other than an NPC. I couldn’t tell if it was good that he found a fulfilling job in an integral part of society, or depressing that it was all he did. Reliable NPCs were important, and I wished for them to exist, but as an intrinsically greedy person, I wanted them to desire more.

Other than waxing philosophical over the nature of people who have reliable jobs, I also ended up learning a little about Glaucen and the city Medean. Things such as the presence of guilds, which would control almost all of the craftsmen in a city, each of which would span the region.

I got a slightly better sense for how Derriad was set up from Castor. The Chapters and the Grand Cathedral were just the highest levels of the multilayered theocracy. Due to the fact that monsters were prevalent, only valuable regions were truly settled. This led to regions led by priests of the rank formally known as ‘Vestments of the Rose’, each one more or less autonomous and separated from the others by wild lands.

Trade between each region needed to cross these more dangerous lands. As such, trade between them was more or less monopolized by large trading companies. Most guilds also covered the region they were found within. The result of this being prices within a region were set by the guilds, which would sometimes ‘wage war’ against guilds in other regions using the merchant caravans as vectors for attack. The home turf advantage almost negated the benefits of having a more resourceful guild, and breakaway factions would also diversify the number of guilds.

If I met with a wolf goddess, I would probably consider putting magic aside for a few years.

What that all meant in the present though, was that prices were expensive, until a rival guild tried encroaching. I was lucky enough not to have been going down the path of a sculptor or blacksmith in this world, because guilds did not accept apprentices lightly. My tiny allowance would not be going far.

We stalled lunch on the last day to eat inside Glaucen, Castor knew we would reach it in a timely enough manner. As we got closer, the merchant gave me a few pieces of advice before we reached the city gates.

“You’re foreign, so I’ll remind you that most folk take Tian Meng and the church much more seriously here. Keep your distance and act cautiously around any clerics or priests you come across. You don’t have to be as careful around the Holy Servers, but they do still have power.”

So I’m supposed to give people in a large organization some face? I liked where things were going, although my cultivation base was a little low. Actually that just made things perfect.

“Also, it might not be too bad since you’re just visiting, but people have a memory for those who attend their masses, even if not by name. If you stay too long without displaying some sort of piety people may turn a bit hostile. The people here also don’t think too positively of elves. Oh, and if you see anyone with a blue bellyband, that’s a magic user unaffiliated with the church. They’re an eccentric bunch.”

“Is...that all?” We were fast approaching the point where we’d go our separate ways. Apparently he just now thought of telling me about what I needed to look out for. Better late than never, but his words awoke the possibility in my mind that magic users were required to identify themselves, possibly needing to be registered somewhere.

It might be overlooked as things that don’t usually rest on the mind of a merchant. Having followed a routine probably meant he needed to be aware of very little outside of it. Perhaps only upon seeing the town guards stationed at the gate did he recall troubles that might await us.

At least he had a possible excuse. Who sat stoically along the back edge of the cart saying none of these things? Oh yeah, Corsair. There’s no way the one appointed as my guide knew nothing about city life. Less than a merchant perhaps, but I’d heard not one word addressed to me.

As Ruffles trotted towards the city, I prepared myself to make through the visit on my own if necessary.