Isa sat in a booth at Lund’s with Mery at her side. The notebook was open in front of her. On the first page, which had been blank when she first began the day, sat the words CLASS and LEVEL. Beside them were the words Fighter and 1. Below them were the now familiar stats: Strength -11, Dexterity - 14, Constitution - 11, Intelligence - 13, Wisdom - 13, and Charisma - 12.

“I had you pegged!” Mery thumped the notebook. “A dexy fighter, you are. Though a staff and a dagger’s an odd combination. That how they fight where you’re from?”

“No one fights where I’m from. What’s this second wind thing?”

“It’s your notebook, ask it.”

“Huh?” She hadn’t finished her pint of beer, but she thought her ears must be playing tricks.

“If you don’t know something, it’s worth asking.” Mery leaned into Isa as she pulled out her own notebook. She flipped a few pages into her own notebook and set it down for Isa to see. “Let’s say I didn’t know the word investigatory. I just brush the ink with my thumb and dah! There it is - an explanation.”

As Isa watched, script filled a few inches of the notebook, but Mery flipped it closed before Isa could read much. She caught the words insight into the mind of before Mery slipped the black book back into her bag.

“So try it yourself.” Mery urged.

Gently, as if the ink might smudge on the page, Isa swiped at the words “second wind”. After a moment new words appeared as if written by an invisible hand. “Fighters have a hidden well of stamina to draw on in a fight. Once a day, you can regain hit points equal to 5 plus your level. Recharged after a long or short rest.”

She closed the book and held it to her chest. “What else is in here? I didn’t choose to be a fighter. Can I change my mind? What if I’m no good?”

“You’ll be fine. I’ve seen a lot of folks, and you’ll be fine. As to the book, you’ve got your log, too. Want to know what you need to do for folks, promises you’ve made, jobs you’ve accepted, it’s all there in the log.”

Isa flipped the notebook open again and saw a page with bold letters at the top: Quest Log. Below it was written “Deliver book to Fedru. Giver: Joth Windbane. Reward: 38 copper and a bag.” Below that Isa saw the words “Vernal Fedru lives outside of the village in a secluded cottage. Deliver the book and wait for a reply. Fedru is a strange figure in the neighborhood, known to only a few people. It is said that he dabbles in the dark side of magic. Like many wizards he is impatient with questions, sharp-witted, and distrustful of strangers.”

Below that Isa saw the name “Morgan”. She pointed at it. “Taking the hide to that Morgan guy is here, too.”

“It’s a quest, innit?” Mery gave her a bright smile. “After awhile it can be hard to keep it all straight, and some quests, well, they take a long time to finish so you need a refresher sometimes on who’s who and what’s what.”

“Do I get to decide what I do and don’t do? What if I don’t want a quest? Can I say No?”

Before Mery could answer, Joth Windbane slid into the booth. “You’re back! And you’re not alone.” He began to scooch out of the booth.

“Don’t bunch up your robes, wizard.” Mery finished her pint and motioned for Isa to let her out. “I’ve got a few debts to settle. People to see. I do hope, Isa Chamberlin, that our paths cross again sometime.” She smiled. “You should think about trading that blade for something longer, though. A rapier, now that’s a dexy weapon for a cool drink like yourself.” She winked at Isa, and with a salute to Lund behind the bar, Mery Braydon walked out of the tavern and into the evening.

As the door swung shut Isa noticed that it had begun to rain.

“You delivered the book?” Joth picked up Mery’s empty glass and put it at the end of the table.

Isa leaned back and stretched out her legs. “Yes. I did.”

“Did Fedru--”

“So this is really like a game? Really is a game?”

“Yes and no,” said Joth. “It’s real life. And it’s a game.”

Isa shook her head and thumped her head against the wooden back of the booth. “That’s two different things.”

“Not really. Life - what you and I used to call real life - it’s not that different than a game. There are rules and classes, skills and tools, ways to keep score, right? What’s money, what’s a new car but a way to keep score?”

“Speaking of money, where’s the rest of my payment?”

The wizard gave his head a slight shake. “The rest? I don’t--”

“You would take advantage of a newbie? Shame on you. Everyone says you’re cheap; everyone says you underpay.” She was suddenly tired of his company.

“Everyone? Who did you talk--”

She grabbed her glass and stepped out of the booth. “In the future, if you want my help, it will cost you. I need to earn a living.” Isa hoped her voice was steadier than her legs. “Speaking of that, Fedru told me to see a man named Morgan. Know where he is?”

Just then thunder crashed overheard. Isa glanced out the front windows and saw sheets of rain coming down. Hopefully this Morgan fellow had a shop close by. Although with this rain, she’d get soaked even if it was next door.

“Wait a minute! I’m helping you. I didn’t have to do that.” Joth moved to the edge of the booth. “There are things you don’t understand, OK?”

Joth’s eyes seemed to expand, his pupils drinking in all the light. The noise of the tavern fell away, and as if in slow motion Isa watched Joth’s knuckles whitened as he gripped Mery’s empty glass. He turned it over. “Time is running out.” A tickle of ale raced down the side of the glass and hung at the rim for ages before finally dripping on to the table. “Literally.” With that, he set the glass down right side up.

Isa blinked as sound crashed all around her. The clink of glasses, the scrape of cutlery on ceramic, rain drumming the window, Lund yelling at someone. Joth’s eyes hadn’t left her face. Maybe he’d skimped on payment to her, but she accepted the work. He’d given her advice, given her the daggers. The daggers. She’d have to explain about losing the one.

He seems like a good guy. A little excitable, maybe, but really you don’t have a lot of options, do ya? Not a lot of allies in this world, not yet anyway.

“Why don’t you buy me some dinner and explain what you’re talking about?” She smiled. “I’ll buy next time. Promise.”

“Fine. Lund! Sit down. Lund!” Joth raised himself up in the booth and pointed at the table.

Isa slid into the booth and tucked her small bag beside the large one that held the deer hide. All she had in the world lay inside. All she had in this world, she reminded herself.

As if to reinforce her thoughts of home, a man’s voice said, “Another outlander? Are you conjuring them, Jothy? Getting lonely?” A short man with jet black hair leaned his elbows on the table and grinned at her. He took a whiff of air through his nose. “She even smells outlandish! Who’d have thought it?”

Joth said, “Prestin. Do you need something?” He lifted his chin to Isa and said, “Watch your bags. Prestin has a habit of stealing other people’s things.”

“That’s low, even for you, wizard.” He stood straight, pulled up his pants, and then suddenly leaned forward. “I’ll leave you to your,” he waved his hands over the table as if to mess up papers, “stratagems.”

Lund sidled up beside the little man. He motioned him away with one elbow. “Let the woman eat. Had her first kill today.” Lund gave Isa a huge smile. “Mery told me all about it.” With that, he put down two plates piled with food.

Prestin was still standing there, and once his hands were free, Lund grabbed him by the shoulder. “Come to settle your tab? I’m glad of it, Pres.”

Isa leaned over her plate. “Who was that?”

“That is Prestin. If he has a last name I’ve never heard it.” Joth brought a fork full of potato to his mouth. “He likes to think he’s important.”

“Is he?” Isa looked at the plate in front of her. A slab of some rare meat, wilted greens, roasted potatoes, and a massive slice of bread laid across the top. She peeked under the bread. “I made a vow that I was going to go vegan as soon as I’d used up the parmesan cheese in the fridge.”

“Is that like being a vegetarian?” Joth asked without looking up.

“Yeah it’s like being-- How long have you been here?”

“It’s been a few years.” Joth waved a hand dismissively. “Time moves differently here.”

“You know about iPhones, right?”

“Yes, I know about iPhones. I’m not-- What I mean is, a lot of healers forego meat. If you don’t like it, or you don’t want to eat it, just tell people that you eat like a healer.” He paused. “You’re not, right?”

Isa had been studying the meat and wondering if it was the deer she’d killed earlier. She turned her plate so that the meat sat on the far side of the plate.

Joth repeated himself. “You’re not, right? I mean, they come in handy, but the baggage. Literal baggage. Actually, they have figurative baggage, too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your class - do ya know what you are yet? Did your quest to Fedru help?”

The whole story was about to spill out of Isa, the spiders, her conversation with Fedru, Mery and the deer, but she stopped herself. She saw that Joth was hanging on her words, anxious to know these details about her new life, but what did she know about him?

“Let’s talk about you for a sec. How’d you know you were a wizard? What was your first quest? What is it that you’re trying to do here?”

“Fair questions. Very fair.” Joth took a bite of food and chewed. “I was an architect. Not the cool kind with a hard hat and a bundle of blueprints. I sat in front of a computer pretty much all the time. I got here, realized immediately what had happened, and--”

Isa let out a grunt of disbelief.

“Well maybe not immediately but pretty quickly. You have to understand - I sat in front of a computer at work, and then I’d come home and play Diablo, or Magic, and on the weekends, I’d play D&D.”

“So you came here with like a bunch of spells memorized?”

Joth looked down at his plate and laughed. “Hardly. I had this character I’d been playing for a few years. Level 15 rogue.” He shook his head. “Holfo Redwort. What a badass he was. A halfling with a longsword and an attitude.”

“That’s like an elf and human mix?”

“Oh good lord.” Joth put his head in his hand. “A halfling is like a hobbit. Short? Like Prestin. He’s a halfling, or didn’t you notice?”

“Like Lord of the Rings hobbits? Frodo? They’re real?”

“Yes,” Joth said softly. “They are all real. Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, Gnomes. Try not to draw attention to yourself this way. Just assume that what you see is real. Except that you can’t do that either.”

“I know!” Isa said around a bite of bread. “Your friend Fedru, he like made his house disappear.”

“He didn’t really, but people can certainly try to make you see what they want you to see and say what they want you to say.” He wiped his hand on the sleeve of his robe. “Can I see your notebook?”

Isa had a sudden memory of her 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Webber saying, “It’s may I see your notebook, Isa. Please try to get it right.” She decided not to correct Joth. She placed her hand on her bag and stopped. “Are you trying to make me do this? Like mind control?”

“Most times you can tell when someone’s trying to magick you. They need to say something, wave their hands, use a bit of material, like egg shell or a feather or something. There are sneaky bastards who can cast spells silently. But if you pay attention, you can kinda feel like someone’s trying to put one over on you.”

“Great,” said Isa, “so what do I do about it? Can I buy an amulet or something?”

“Do you have a bag of gold I don’t know about? Four or five bags, probably? Things like that exist in this world, sure, but they are rare. Like Hope diamond rare. Right? No, in the game, you have something called ‘saving throws’ and that’s kinda what happens.”

Isa mimed a goalie diving for a ball. “I throw myself out of the way?”

“Wow. OK, no. Let’s say I’m.... Here, I’m going to….” Joth reached inside one of his sleeves, fingered something and pulled out a large gold coin. “.... show you this coin I found. Just like in the real world, sometimes, if you’re smart enough you can see through magic tricks. This world is just like that. Anything that you want to do, if you have some skill and some luck, you can do it. Sometimes you need a lot of skill and a lot of luck, so sometimes, you fail.”

“I know it’s not real, but it looks real.” Isa reached out to touch the coin, and of course her fingers went right through it. “Marissa and her friends, they used dice. I don’t have dice.”

Joth shrugged. “Maybe there’s some god somewhere rolling D20s for us. All I know is that this world,” he tapped his finger on the table, “seems to function like a game of Dungeons and Dragons, right down to the saving throws. Sometimes you roll a 20; sometimes you roll a 1.”

“And you want to roll a 20, right?”

Joth closed his eyes briefly. “It’s not like golf. You want high numbers, yes. Now let me see your notebook, for god’s sake.”

Isa handed it over. “Mery said that I leveled.”

“Scare you when the notebook got hot? I should have mentioned that.” He shook his head. “There’s too much to try to explain.”

“Like the spiders? You might could have been more specific about what ‘big’ meant.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said.

“Next time, worry me. Please.”

Joth didn’t answer as he studied her notebook. As his silence grew Isa began to feel uncomfortable, like he’d found her teenage diary, the one with the song lyrics.

“So,” he said finally, “you’re a fighter. Very nice. Quarterstaff? That’s unusual with a-- Now I see what the thief meant - I agree; we should get you a rapier. I know someone who can advance you the coin.”

Isa didn’t know what to address first. Mery was a thief? She certainly seemed mercenary but not well, evil. And Joth wanted to set her up with a loan shark? Isa had enough real debt without adding to it here. Her dagger -- well, Joth’s dagger -- would do until she could save up enough to buy a rapier. Joth’s dagger…. She needed to tell him that she’d lost one. “About those spiders - I met some and--”

The front door slammed open, and all heads turned to see who was making such an entrance, but the doorway stood empty. “The wind, eh?” Lund said as he hurried around the bar to the door. “Bad this time of year.”

Isa turned back to Joth, who hadn’t seemed to notice the commotion. “Are you done with my notebook?” She held out her hand. “Do you have any advice that doesn’t involve me going into debt?”

He handed the notebook to Isa and nodded. “Yes, actually. You’ll be level 3 before you know it, so be thinking about your fighting style. You need to specialize.”

“Fighting style? How do you know this?” Isa fanned the pages of the notebook. “I didn’t see anything about--” But there it was. In faint letters, almost like gray ink, if there was such a thing, she read, At level 3, fighters choose an archetypal fighting style. This will inform your combat moves and fighting techniques. The archetype you choose gains features at levels 3, 7, 10, 15, and 18.

Before she could say anything to Joth, he began to scoot toward the edge of booth. “I need to go. I have paid your room here for 5 nights. I will be back tomorrow, by noon at the latest, and I can explain more then.”

“But you said--”

Joth put a hand to his ear. “Yes.” He nodded. “Quiet!” he hissed at Isa. “Don’t make a scene -- hold on. Just have a pint, relax, read up on fighters, think about how you approach a problem, and….” He waved his hand “So forth.” He put his hand to his ear again. “Yes,” he said and pulled his hood up. “Yes.”

A moment later he was out the door. Isa looked around. “I’m the one making a scene?”